Her Mistletoe Protector (7 page)

Back up in the kitchen, he searched for notes or anything at all that might indicate where Dr. Errol had gone. The garbage can was empty and there wasn’t a single stray note to be found. He even went back to the master bedroom, but still didn’t find anything.

Dr. Errol was either innocent or smarter than he’d given the guy credit for. And he was leaning toward the latter.

He left the house the same way he’d come in, returning the key to its hiding place in the fake rock. He hurried back around to the front, where Rachel was waiting in the car.

“What took you so long?” she asked, when he slid in behind the wheel. “I was getting ready to come out and look for you.”

“Sorry, I was poking around and lost track of time. Did you get in touch with Edith?”

“Yes, she said that Karl called in saying he was staying home today.” She stared at the house through the windshield. “Maybe we should try knocking at the door again?”

Time to come clean. “Actually, I found the house key hidden in a rock near the back door. I went in and checked out the house. Believe me, no one is home. And from what I saw, I don’t think he’s been home in a couple of days, either.”

“He hasn’t been home?” She stared at him incredulously. “But that’s crazy. I know for a fact that Karl was at work the day we met in my office. I had a meeting scheduled with both him and Josie that I canceled.”

“That was on Wednesday,” he said thoughtfully, going back through the timeline. It was Thursday and he found it hard to believe that only twenty-four hours had passed since he’d sat in Rachel’s office looking at the threatening notes she’d received. “That means he must have been planning this for a while.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I saw the guy who kidnapped Joey, remember? He was young, in his late twenties or early thirties. I can guarantee he wasn’t Karl Errol. Karl is a short, rather nerdy type of guy with glasses and a half-bald head, although I don’t think he’s hit the age of forty yet.”

She was clearly exasperated with him, but he couldn’t just let this go “Rachel, it’s best if we keep all possibilities open, okay? Errol could have easily hired Morales to kidnap Joey.”

“Believe what you want,” she said with a disgusted sigh. “I know that Karl isn’t capable of doing anything like this.”

There was no point in continuing the argument, so he concentrated on backing out of the driveway and heading back toward the city. They still had a good hour and fifteen minutes before they were due at the bank.

However, Rachel wouldn’t drop the subject, even though he hadn’t said a word. “Obviously you’ve forgotten how we were shot at outside Margie Caruso’s house, which implicates the Mafia, not one of my employees.”

He hadn’t forgotten, but that incident had been more of a warning rather than an attempt to kill them. “Maybe we should head back over there, then?” he asked. “We have time.”

“Great idea,” she agreed enthusiastically.

He stifled a sigh and headed toward the freeway. They’d driven about twenty minutes when Rachel’s cell phone beeped. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel because so far the only person who’d texted Rachel since this nightmare began was the kidnapper.

“He wants to know if I have the money yet,” Rachel said, glancing up nervously. “What should I tell him?”

“Tell him that we’ll have the money by one o’clock this afternoon. That gives us a little bit of a buffer since we’re hoping to have this settled by noon.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she protested. “I don’t want to make him angry.”

Nick understood her concern, but he wanted some time to react to the kidnapper’s exchange plan. Since Logan was out of the country, he’d had no choice but to call his friend and fellow cop, Jonah Stewart, for assistance. Jonah lived with his wife, Mallory, in Milwaukee, but once he’d heard the story, Jonah had readily agreed to drive up to Chicago. “If this guy understands anything about banks, he’ll understand the time frame is more than reasonable.”

Rachel swallowed hard and sent the message explaining they’d have the money by one o’clock in the afternoon.

There was a tense silence as she waited for the kidnapper’s response. When her phone beeped again, she picked it up with shaking fingers.

“Well?” he asked. “What was his response?”

Rachel lifted her tormented gaze to his, her lower lip quivering with fear. “He said to text him the minute we get the money and not a second later. He also said he’d hurt Joey and keep on hurting him for every minute we’re late.”

SEVEN

R
achel shivered, despite the bright sunlight streaming in through the windshield keeping the interior of the car toasty warm. She couldn’t bear the thought of the kidnapper hurting her son. She didn’t even want to think about what Joey may have already suffered.

She forced her frozen fingers to text back.
I promise I’ll call as soon as I have the cash. Please don’t harm my son.

“Rachel, try not to panic. I’m sure he’s bluffing,” Nick murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

“I’m not willing to take that chance,” she snapped.

Nick didn’t seem a bit fazed by her anger. “Remember, we’ve just purchased a new phone. There’s no way for him to track us from now on. And it could be that he isn’t even aware of that fact, yet.”

Suddenly, the idea of getting a new phone didn’t seem like such a good one. Her heart lodged in her throat and she gripped his hand tightly. “What if he gets mad about the switch and hurts Joey?”

“Don’t worry, Rachel,” Nick said in a soothing tone. “The kidnapper has come too far to turn back now. He wants your money, remember?”

Nick’s theory wasn’t at all reassuring. Yes, the kidnapper wanted her money, but it could be that he also had a sadistic streak and took some kind of perverse pleasure from hurting young children, too. She was tempted to beg Nick to return to the truck stop, so she could grab her old phone out of the garbage.

But he was already heading down the highway toward Margie Caruso’s house, so she bit her tongue and tried to relax. At least for now, the kidnapper couldn’t track their movements, which was a good thing. She hoped and prayed that they’d find Joey there.

This time, Nick didn’t pull up in front of the house, but drove around the block, parking on the opposite side of the house. It was broad daylight, so it wasn’t exactly easy to hide from curious eyes.

“Remember, I’m the one who’s going to do the talking here,” she reminded Nick as they slid out of the car.

He grimaced and nodded, keeping a sharp eye out as they walked down the street. Margie Caruso’s house was the third one in from the corner, so it didn’t take long to get there.

She could hear the faint hint of Christmas music coming from one of the houses, and she couldn’t help quickening her pace, eager to see if Margie was home. Nick hung back as she walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell.

The seconds passed with agonizing slowness, but soon the door opened, revealing a well-dressed and nicely groomed woman who didn’t look anything close to her fifty-some years. But the moment Margie saw Rachel standing there, she frowned. “No soliciting,” she said abruptly.

“Wait! My name is Rachel Caruso. I’m not selling anything, I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

Margie paused in the act of closing the door, her gaze raking over Rachel from head to toe. “You’re Anthony’s wife?” she asked.

Hiding a wince, she nodded. She tried to think of a way to forge a bond with the woman. “We divorced a long time ago, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind talking to me for a few minutes.”

The former Mrs. Frankie Caruso pursed her lips for a moment. “Who’s he?” she asked, gesturing toward Nick.

“This is Nick, a good friend of mine.” She twisted her hands together, hoping Margie wouldn’t guess that he was a cop and refuse to see them. Rachel didn’t exactly want to have this conversation outside. Not that she was even sure what she was going to say. The main reason they’d come to Margie’s house was to make sure Joey wasn’t being held here.

“I guess you’d better come in, then,” Margie said, opening the screen door for them.

Nick held the door as she entered the house first. She glanced around curiously and was a little disheartened to find nothing unusual. There were some holiday decorations, including a small fake tabletop-size tree. Would Margie invite her in if she was hiding her son here? Somehow she doubted it. Yet she firmly believed Margie Caruso would be a link to her son. “You have a very nice home,” she murmured as she stepped into the living room.

Margie let out a bark of laughter. “Yep. Bought and paid for by Frankie,” she bragged. “Do you want something to drink? I have coffee and soft drinks.”

“No thanks. I really hope you don’t mind us just dropping in like this,” she said, before Nick could respond. “It’s just I need to find Frankie and I was hoping you’d know where he was.”

“Have a seat,” Margie said, waving at them as she dropped into a recliner. “What do you want with Frankie?”

Rachel’s mouth went dry and she wished she’d agreed to take something to drink. “It’s nothing major, I just need to ask him a few questions.”

“Ms. Caruso, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Nick asked, interrupting them.

“No problem, it’s down the hall to your right,” Margie said, waving in the general direction.

Rachel figured Nick was trying to give them some time alone, most likely thinking that Margie might open up more if he wasn’t sitting there. She stared down at her hands for a minute trying to figure out a way to get Margie to speak openly about Frankie. “Last I heard, Frankie was in Phoenix,” she said in a low voice. “I should tell you that I’ve received some threatening letters and phone calls.” She glanced up, trying to assess Margie’s reaction. “I guess I couldn’t help wondering if your ex might be involved.”

Margie let out a sigh. “I highly doubt Frankie’s entangled in something like that,” she said without hesitation. “It’s not really his style.”

“What is his style?” Rachel pressed. “I divorced Anthony a long time ago, so how do I know Frankie’s not holding some sort of grudge against me?”

Margie tapped one long, lacquered nail against the end table. “Frankie has been splitting his time between Phoenix and Chicago, but I can’t imagine he’s holding the divorce against you. Why would he? Our divorce wasn’t that big of a deal.”

The news that Frankie Caruso could be right now in Chicago made her pulse race with a mixture of dread and excitement. Frankie had to be the one behind Joey’s kidnapping...it was the only thing that made sense. “I have to tell you, I admired how you and Frankie seemed to get along, even after your divorce,” Rachel said.

“Yes, well, we had some business ventures together, which helped,” Margie replied evasively. Rachel tried not to show her distaste—certainly, those business ventures were likely Mafia related.

“Like I said, it’s just amazing that you both managed to stay friends,” Rachel added. “Obviously, that wasn’t exactly the case with me and Anthony.”

“I know. Anthony wasn’t shy about telling us how upset he was at how you managed to keep him from your son.” Margie’s gaze was challenging, as if daring Rachel to disagree.

The mention of Joey kicked her pulse into high gear. So Frankie and Margie knew about Joey. Knew that she’d kept Anthony away from his son. Was this the motive behind the kidnapping? A way to show her the power of the Caruso name?

“Me and Frankie didn’t have kids,” Margie continued, clearly oblivious to Rachel’s spinning thoughts. “I guess it was a good thing, considering how we didn’t stay together.”

Rachel couldn’t decide if Margie was putting on an act for her benefit or not. She didn’t dare glance at her watch, even though Nick had been gone for what seemed like a really long time. She didn’t want Margie to wonder where he was, either. “I guess maybe you’re right,” she murmured. “Divorce is much easier without fighting over kids.” Before the other woman could ask anything more, Rachel quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to see Frankie anytime soon?”

Margie’s eyebrows lifted. “Maybe. Why?”

Flustered, Rachel strove to keep her tone light and casual. “I thought maybe you could just mention to him that I’d like to talk to him. If he has some time. Nothing urgent...”

Margie stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to gauge what Rachel really wanted. “Yeah, sure. I might see him. Maybe you should give me your phone number so that he has it if he wants to get in touch with you.”

“Of course. Do you have a pen and paper handy?”

Margie rose to her feet at the same moment Nick walked back into the room. “Wait here for a minute.”

After their hostess left the room, she looked at Nick. “Well?” she asked in a low voice.

“Nothing,” he murmured with a slight shake of his head.

Nothing, as in he didn’t get to search very much? Or nothing, as in he truly hadn’t found anything?

Before she could ask anything more, Margie returned. Rachel hastily scribbled her number on the slip of paper the older woman handed her. “Thanks so much, Margie. I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

“No problem.” Margie walked them to the front door. “Take care.”

“You, too,” Rachel said, before slipping outside. Nick followed her, grabbing her hand as they strolled down the sidewalk to the street. “We probably shouldn’t have parked far away,” she murmured under her breath. “Margie will think it’s odd that we didn’t pull up right in front of her house.”

“You might be right,” Nick said. “But you did a good job of convincing her that your reason for being there was related to Frankie. Maybe she’ll think we’re just paranoid.”

Once they turned the corner, Rachel relaxed. “I
was
there because of Frankie. He’s been here in Chicago, Nick. I think he must be involved in Joey’s kidnapping.”

Nick didn’t say anything more until they were in the car. “Frankie might be involved, but as far as I could tell, Margie isn’t. I looked around and didn’t find anything. I even managed to sneak down the basement stairs. There weren’t any hiding places down there that I could see, so I didn’t spend a lot of time searching. I was afraid she’d hear me.”

Rachel couldn’t believe he’d managed to get all the way into the basement. “What would you have done if she had heard you?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “I would have claimed that I took a wrong turn.”

She put a hand over her knotted stomach, glad she hadn’t known what Nick was doing while she chatted with Margie. Her nerves were already at the breaking point. Time was running out; they were due to be at the bank in the next twenty minutes.

Soon, they’d be one step closer to getting Joey back, safe and sound.

* * *

Nick glanced at Rachel as he navigated the traffic, taking the fastest route to the bank. He couldn’t say he was surprised that they hadn’t found anything at Margie Caruso’s house. He still believed that Dr. Karl Errol might be the missing link. But no matter what he thought, there wasn’t enough time to keep searching for Joey. He knew that once they’d finished their transaction at the bank, Rachel would contact the kidnapper.

There was no way she’d risk anything happening to her son. Not that he could blame her. Easy for him to say the kidnapper was bluffing. If Rachel found a single mark on Joey, she’d never forgive him.

His phone rang and he picked it up, recognizing Jonah Stewart’s number. “Hey, are you in town?”

“Yep, sitting in the parking lot of the hotel down the road from the bank.”

Nick could feel Rachel’s curious gaze on him. “Good. We’ll be at the bank within the next ten minutes or so. I’ll be in touch as soon as we’re finished.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks, buddy.” He disconnected from the call.

“Was that the cop buddy you told me about?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, Jonah Stewart is a Milwaukee detective who helped build a case against your ex-husband. Anthony tried to kill him. Thankfully, Jonah and Mallory escaped, and Anthony was the one who’d died that night.”

“So he was the one responsible for bringing down Anthony,” Rachel mused. “I always wondered exactly what happened.”

The last thing he wanted was for Rachel to hear the gory details. “None of that matters now. Just know that we really can trust Jonah.”

Rachel nodded and looked away, staring out the window as if lost in thought.

He mentally kicked himself for reminding her of Anthony Caruso, especially at a time like this, when her son was still missing. Didn’t she already have enough to worry about? Right now, she needed to stay focused on the task of getting the money together. That was the first step. The second was to exchange the money for her son.

With the kidnapper calling the shots, they’d be lucky to get Joey back without incident, even with Jonah’s help. “Nick?”

He dragged his gaze to meet Rachel’s. “Yes?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

Uh-oh. He braced himself, certain he wasn’t going to like this. “Promise you what?”

She locked eyes with him. “Promise me that you’ll get Joey out of there safely. I don’t want you to worry about me—I want you to focus on keeping my son safe.”

Every instinct in his body protested, but he knew very well that if the situation was reversed, he’d ask the exact same thing. Children were a cherished gift from God and they deserved a chance to be protected. As much as he didn’t want to lose Rachel, he knew he had to give her this much.

“I promise,” he vowed, silently asking God to spare both Rachel and Joey so he wouldn’t be forced to make an impossible choice.

* * *

Rachel rubbed her sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans before picking up the pen to sign over her shares of the company stock to Gerry Ashton. She couldn’t help glancing at her watch, wondering if right now, the kidnapper was somewhere close watching them.

“Are you sure about this, Rachel?” Edward Callahan asked. The poor bank manager had been beside himself since they’d arrived. She wanted to believe he cared about her, but she suspected the large withdrawal of cash was the main source of his concern.

“Absolutely.” She wasn’t nervous about selling off her company; she was worried about Joey. Because the moment Edward handed over the cash, she’d have to call the kidnappers.

Please, Lord, please don’t let them hurt my son.

The transaction was completed with ridiculous simplicity—she was sure she’d completed far more paperwork when she’d bought her house eight years ago.

A house that she’d have to sell, once she had her son back. She shoved the thoughts away, refusing to dwell on her decision. She’d give up everything she owned to get Joey back.