Promise Kept (16 page)

“He’s got a gun. He tried to kill us.” He looked at her. “Will he do it now?”

It was certainly possible. Slowing her breath, she counted until she could talk. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep it from happening.”

“Will Donovan save us?”

If only he could. She wondered where he was, what he was doing. He’d have Dugan working to find her and Mark. She had to believe that, but would Donovan think to look outside of Texas? If only she had told him her story sooner they might not be in this position.

But what could he have done? What could he do now? She hadn’t even told him where she lived.

“Donovan is at the ranch. He has no idea where we are.”

“If he knew, he’d take the gun from that guy, and we could go back home.”

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We’ll be in California before you know it.”

“I don’t want to go there, Mom. I want to go home.”

She certainly understood. “So do I, Mark.”

She cuddled him close against her, smoothed his hair back until his eyes closed and he slept. Would this be the last time they spent together? Would she end up dead like her ex? Would Mark? She held him tighter. She simply wouldn’t allow it to happen. Someway, somehow, she’d keep Mark safe.

Phyl couldn’t shut her eyes. Her mind whirled, as she tried to think of a way out of this mess. Though his gun sat casually by the guy’s right hand, she couldn’t risk their lives trying to take it from him.

When the plane landed, he urged them off with a warning. “I’ll kill the kid if you try anything.”

Phyl was careful to obey.

When they stepped out, it was dark. “What time is it?” she asked.

The man snickered. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” she said with resignation.

But her mind hadn’t slowed down. Though none of her ideas seemed feasible, she had to try. There was no way she was going to let him hurt Mark.

Unless in one of those whispered phone conversations he’d asked for help. She shuddered at the thought. She might be able to overcome one man, two if she was lucky. At least long enough for Mark to get away. Her own safety didn’t matter as long as Mark survived. Her son was smart. He’d do as he was told.

The drive to her house in San Diego didn’t take nearly long enough. As they drove up the coast, sea air filtered into the car. Usually, it brought a sense of peace; now she barely noticed.

When they pulled into the driveway, everything looked exactly as she’d left it. Even the grass had been mowed. She wondered which neighbor she had to thank.

“I don’t want to get out,” Mark said, clinging to her.

She hugged him close. “I love you, Mark. Don’t ever forget that. Right now we have to do as the man says.”

“Get the kid out. Now.”

The demand left no room for argument. She stepped out of the car, reached in and took Mark in her arms. He buried his head in her shoulder, wrapped his legs around her waist. She couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. It wasn’t easy walking up the steps, knowing that when she couldn’t produce what the killer wanted he would use his gun.

Putting her mouth to Mark’s ear, she whispered. “Remember, okay?” She prayed he could still fit in his hiding spot in the kitchen pantry.

His head nodded against her shoulder.

“I love you, Mark. So much.” She held him tight, prayed this puny idea would work. Prayed this wasn’t her last few minutes she’d ever be with him.

“Key?”

“Like I had time to get it,” she snapped. Her heart thundered in her chest as she thought of what was about to happen. Knees weak, she willed her body to stand straight, to not fail her, and please God, she breathed deep, don’t let me have a panic attack now.

“Spare, then.”

She wouldn’t agitate him further by refusing to cooperate. “Under the mat.”

“Step back.”

She did as she was told. He threw the mat to the side, slid the key in, and unlocked the door. “You first,” he mocked. “As soon as you get inside, put the kid down, and get what I came after.”

She said another quick prayer as she stepped past the man and into the room.

“Now,” she whispered as her hand went for the light switch.

Before she could flip the switch, a pair of strong arms pulled her and Mark to the side, walked her back until they were at the wall.

She tried to scream, but a hand was over her mouth. Whoever it was held her so tight she could barely breathe. Mark’s head burrowed deeper, but he didn’t utter a sound.

Who was here? Were they good or bad? Were they going to be rescued or killed?

Phyl’s heart raced. Her head swirled. Not Mark. Not her baby. She tried to squirm out of the hold on her, but the man was big and strong. She couldn’t move.

“Hands up!” someone shouted.

“What the…?”

“Put your hands up and drop the gun,” the hard-voiced man ordered.

She pushed Mark’s head deeper into her shoulder. The man holding her pulled her tighter against his body.

Though she couldn’t see a thing, she heard others in the room, felt the killer still for a moment. Then heard a gun click.

Her heart almost stopped. Was he going to shoot? In the dark?

She hugged Mark tighter as the arms around her pulled her closer still.

A shot rang out.

Her heart stopped. They were going to die!

“You bastard!” the killer raged.

“Hands up. Now. My aim gets better every second.”

The voice held so much authority that Phyl would have dropped Mark if those arms weren’t like a vise holding her still and tight.

The gun clattered to the floor.

Lights came on at the same moment her captor’s arms turned her loose.

She gasped until her breath was close to normal.

What had just happened? Who was here?

Blinking in the sudden brightness, she started to ask just that. When her brain could function, she saw a sea of black-clad guys with their night vision goggles pulled up off their faces and FBI stamped on their jackets. A couple had U.S. Marshal on theirs.

She turned to the man who had pulled her to safety; saw that he looked like the others only he was bigger. No wonder she couldn’t move. He grinned. “Maxwell Thomas sent us.”

“You know Max?” she gasped, her heart hammering a million miles a minute, still unable to grasp what had just happened.

Two of the black-clad agents had the killer in handcuffs, and were leading him out of the house.

“Not personally. But someone does. We were ordered to get you and your son out of here.”

“Thank you. Oh my God, thank you. Thank Max. Thank everyone.”

Mark raised his head. “Mom?” he said, his voice shaky. “Are we okay now?”

“Yes, Mark. These nice men just saved our lives.”

“Can we go home?”

Chapter Fourteen

Everyone left except the two Marshals and a couple of FBI agents. Phyl was so stunned at the outcome, and at how swiftly everything had changed, she could barely think. Thank God for Max. He’d saved them. But how did he know they’d be here? Did Donovan call him? She would bet anything he had.

She realized now how naïve she was to think she could outsmart a killer.

She put Mark down, but he clung to her legs. “I want to go home, Mom. I don’t like it here.”

The Marshals came over. “I’m Harry Falken and this is Ted Young,” the dark-haired Marshal said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it was the only way we could get the guy who kidnapped you. We decided against the airport. There are usually too many people around, and too much ground to cover.”

“How can I thank you? I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. He was looking for something. I don’t know what. Once he realized I was bluffing, I’m sure he would have shot us.”

“Your friend, Donovan Callahan, found a flash drive in your son’s toy car. That’s why your ex-husband was killed, and what they were so frantic to get their hands on.”

Victor! She’d kill him herself if he weren’t already dead. “How did you know we’d come here?”

“Ms. Callahan overheard you tell the guy that what he was looking for was in California. She thought you were bluffing, said she heard it in your voice, saw it on your face.” He pulled out his cell, dialed then handed her the phone.

She had no idea who was on the other end of the line. But when she said hello, Max answered. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice anxious. “The family is crazy with worry, especially Nellie and Donovan.”

“Thanks to you, we’re fine. It’s a miracle, Max, an absolute miracle. That man would have shot us when I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

“Thank Donovan. He put it together for us. I’ll call Nellie and let her know. Just do whatever the authorities tell you to.” Then Max told her that the flash drive held information that would bring down a drug cartel.

“Good Lord.” So that’s why Victor had been in such a good mood, why he’d told her he would soon be able to take care of them. How stupid of him. Her anger at her ex and what he’d put them through wasn’t lessened by the fact that he was dead. He should have known you can’t blackmail criminals and get away unscathed. His son could have died.

Kneeling down, she took Mark in her arms. “You were right, Mark. Donovan
did
save us.”

“I knew he would.”

She stood, looked at the FBI agents. “Was there someone by the name of Al on the flash drive? I think he’s the boss of the man you just arrested, who, by the way, killed my ex.”

“We’ll check it out, ma’am.”

“Can we go home, Mom?”

Agent Falken walked away to answer a call on his cell.

“I thought this was home.” Agent Young frowned.

“No. We’ll never live here again,” Phyl said. She looked around at the mess her house was in. What little furniture they had was overturned and broken. Drawers were open, their contents scattered on the floor. “Did your people do this?”

“No ma’am. It was like this when we got here. We did go through everything after your ex was killed, but I assure you we left it in good shape. I’m sure someone was looking for the flash drive. When they didn’t find it they came after you.”

“How did they know where to find me?”

Agent Young shrugged. “That may remain a mystery.”

Phyl gave Mark another hug. She would bless Donovan, Max, and his friends every day for the rest of her life.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around to look at the rooms that had been home for six years. She’d tried so hard to make it a good home for Mark. She’d thought she’d succeeded. During that time, she’d painted walls, hung curtains, and made a nest for the two of them. Mark was happy; she was content. Victor had ruined it all.

“I’m going to sell the house. But it’s such a mess.” She’d kept it so neat. She wandered from room to room, saw papers, books, toys, and clothes scattered everywhere. Just thinking of staying here long enough to make it ready to put on the market made her ill.

“We have a company we can call that can take care of it. They’ll charge you, but we can make the arrangements. The same with selling the house. We can call the realtor, have them put it on the market. Papers will have to be signed, but that won’t take but an hour or so,” Agent Young said.

Her brow wrinkled. “Why would you do that?”

Agent Falken walked up. “You can’t go back to the ranch right now. You won’t be safe until we have the people behind this in custody. It may take some time. Especially when word gets out about what happened here.”

“I’ll be glad to go with you and get this settled. But after that I want to go back to the ranch.”

Falken gave her a look of sympathy, but ignored her outburst. “We’ll have your stuff shipped wherever you like. Just tell us where.”

“I don’t want anything. No furniture, nothing.”

“You’ll need your clothes.”

There was something she wanted. “Just a minute.” She went to her closet. The floor was covered with clothes. The box she wanted wasn’t on the shelf. She got down on her hands and knees, shoved clothes around until she found it.

Empty. Where was her dad’s watch? Her mother had given it to him on their wedding day, and he’d treasured it all his life. Where were the few pictures she had of a mother she never knew? Her birth certificate? Papers on her house? Her diary?

Diary!

She sat back on her haunches. That’s how they knew where to look for her. Back in Wyoming on those harsh winter days, she’d dreaded going out into the cold to help her dad. At night, she’d open her diary; write that when she grew up, she’d live on a ranch in the warm Texas Hill Country. She never wanted to see another winter of snow and ice. Until now, she hadn’t remembered.

Burying her head in her hands, she choked back sobs.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Everything’s a mess. Help me find grandpa’s watch.”

After a few minutes they found everything except the diary. She put the items back in the box. After grabbing a shopping bag she threw in a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts and her best dress. There hadn’t been time to socialize much and she certainly hadn’t dated. So there was no need to have a closet full of fancy clothes. Besides, she was more comfortable in jeans than anything.

Next, they went to Mark’s room. “Is there anything you want? Toys? Anything?”

He shook his head. He’d outgrown his clothes. There was nothing else.

A sudden realization hit her. That’s how they knew her size and why Mark’s clothes and sneakers were too small. They’d gone by the sizes they found in their closet. Just the thought of criminals in her house made her hurry. She grabbed the albums she’d made since Mark’s birth with pictures from his infancy to the day they left, along with his birth certificate, and added them to the box.

“This is it,” she told the agents. “Give the rest to charity.”

“It’s time to leave, then.”

She wanted to go back to the ranch as badly as Mark did. She wanted Donovan—wanted the warmth and security of his arms. She wanted to see where their relationship was going—if it was going anywhere.

After all that had happened, what did he feel? She didn’t know, but she had to find out. The reality was she didn’t know if the Callahans would want them back in their lives after this. They’d sent the cavalry to save her, but that’s who they were. They’d do that for anyone. Most families would never tolerate this kind of danger from an outsider.