Miracle at Colts Run Cross. Joanna Wayne

hoped Becky had kept this from the police, but he knew she wouldn’t keep it from her family. Nor would he have wanted that. The Collingsworth brothers, the fearsome four as he’d called them when he’d first started dating Becky, were a powerful squad, and he’d be glad to have them on his side.

      He put out his hand to shake Matt’s as he stepped on the wide front porch, and then his gaze settled on Becky. She was standing just inside the door, her silhouette backlit by the huge, rustic chandelier that dominated the foyer. She looked far more fragile than the last time he’d seen her, the day she’d told him she was through with being his wife.

      He ached to take her in his arms, needed that closeness now more than he’d ever needed it before. Her words of blame shot through his mind, and he held back. Rejection from her might annihilate the tenuous hold he had on his own emotions.

      “Glad you made it so quickly,” Matt said, his voice level and his handshake firm, though the drawn look to his face and the jut of his jaw were clear indicators of his apprehension.

      Bart clapped Nick’s shoulder. “Have you heard any more from the abductor?”

      “Not a word.”

      “The family’s waiting inside,” Matt said. “We should join them.”

      Nick nodded. Becky had left the door by the time they entered. He followed Bart and Matt into the huge den. The family Collingsworth had gathered en masse—except for Langston’s daughter, Gina, and the ill Jeremiah—filling the comfortable sofas and chairs.

      Becky was standing near the hearth, and the heat from the blaze in the fireplace flushed her face. Her arms were pulled tight across her chest as if she were holding herself together. She looked at him questioningly, and his stomach rolled with a million unfamiliar emotions.

      “He hasn’t called back,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

      She started to shake, and he went to her, steadying her in the crook of his arm until she regrouped and pulled away.

      Zach stood. It was the first time Nick had seen him in his khaki deputy’s uniform, and he was struck with the added maturity the attire provided.

      Zach propped a booted foot on the hearth. “We need an action plan.”

      “I made a fresh pot of coffee,” Bart’s wife, Jaclyn, said. “I’ll get it.”

      Langston’s wife, Trish, handed their six-month-old son, Randy, off to his dad. “I’ll help.”

      “This is what I’ve pieced together so far,” Zach said. “Eddie Mason said that he saw the boys get into a car right after school let out, apparently when they were walking to the church.”

      “Has anyone talked to Eddie?” Langston asked.

      “Not yet. At this point I’m following Nick’s instructions to hold off, but I think it’s imperative that we get a description of the car.”

      “I agree,” Matt’s wife, Shelly, said. “That information could be critical. So is speed in getting the search under way. That’s one thing I definitely learned while with the CIA.”

      Nick’s cell phone rang. The room grew deathly quiet. He checked the caller ID. Unavailable. His hands were clammy as he punched the button to take the call.

      “Just listen. No questions.”

      His gut hardened to a painful knot. There was no mistaking the abductor’s voice.

       Chapter Three

      “Here’s the deal. Five million in small denominations, unmarked, and a flight into Mexico on the Collings-worth’s private jet.”

      All doable, though it surprised Nick for the man to mention the private jet. It made him wonder if the man could live in Colts Run Cross. “Before I agree to anything, I want to talk to my sons.”

      “No can do.”

      Nick’s body flexed involuntarily. “Why not?”

      “They’re not with me at the moment.”

      Dread kicked inside him, but it had fury for company. “Either I talk to the boys and know they’re safe, or there will be no deal of any kind.”

      “You’re not calling the plays, Ridgely.”

      “Put the boys on the phone, or I call in the FBI right now.” It was a bluff at this point, but he certainly hadn’t ruled out that option. His threat was met with silence, a match for the still, breathless tension that surrounded him.

      “Screw yourself.” The man’s voice reverberated with anger.

      Nick waited. Angry or not, if the boys were alive and safe, the guy wouldn’t blow this deal by refusing to let him talk to them—not if he was sane. And heaven help them if he wasn’t. There would be no way of predicting the behavior of a crazy man.

      Becky had moved to his side, standing so close she could probably hear the hammering of his heart. She didn’t touch him, but somehow it made him stronger just to have her near.

      “I’ll call you back in a half hour.” He broke the connection before Nick could respond.

      Nick hadn’t realized until that moment how tightly he’d been holding on to the phone, as if it were a tenuous tether to his sons. He walked to the window and stared out at the wintry view of bare branches mixed with the green needles of the towering pines, keenly aware that everyone in the room was watching and judging his actions.

      Before his marriage had hit the rocks, he’d considered himself as an integral part of the close-knit Collingsworth clan. On the last few visits, the tensions between him and Becky had left him feeling as if he were hovering on the outer rim.

      Today all he felt was relief that he was among people who loved his sons and whom he knew would put their lives on the line in a second to save them. Still, he was the father. The final responsibility rested with him.

      Trish and Jaclyn returned with the coffee. He waited until they’d served it before he delivered the abductor’s message—word for word—or as close as he could remember them. No one interrupted, not even Becky, though she seemed to grow more distraught at every syllable he uttered.

      She dropped to the sofa next to her mother. Lenora reached over and took her daughter’s hands, cradling them in hers.

      “I’m really uneasy with a no-cops policy,” Langston said. “There’s a lot of knowledge about situations like this that we’re not tapping into. I could call Aidan Jefferies. This is out of his jurisdiction, but he’s a hell of a homicide detective, and I know he’s had experience with abductions as well.”

      “I think we should let the sheriff’s department handle this,” Zach said. “We can put out an AMBER Alert, question anyone who may have seen the boys get into the abductor’s car and start investigating any child molesters presently living in the area.”

      Nick’s insides coated in acid at the mention of child molesters, though he’d already thought the same. But his gut feeling led him in another direction. “It seems likely that the abduction was a spur-of-the-moment decision spawned by the media attention yesterday, maybe someone desperate for cash.”

      “That makes sense,” Bart agreed. “The man probably saw the boys’ picture on TV.”

      “No sane person would let a picture of Nick and the twins lead them to kidnapping,” Matt said.

      Nick shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s my concern and the reason I hate to blow off his demand that we not bring in the authorities. The guy could be a mental case tottering on the edge.”

      “How will the abductor know if you talk to the cops?” Jaime asked. “I mean as long as they don’t come roaring out here in squad cars or show up at the door in uniform.”

      “If