US Marshall 01 - Cold Ridge (19 page)

Val talked Hank into going out for coffee. They took her car, but she asked him to drive, because she was too damn nervous and barely knew her way around Washington, D.C., on a good day. For all she knew, her caller was around the corner with night-vision goggles, watching her every move. Maybe he was a law enforcement officer. The CIA. Military intelligence. Maybe she was out of her mind.

Plus, she had an unloaded Glock in her glove compartment, and she couldn't reach it if she was the one driving. And she'd seen in the movies-when you kidnap someone, you make them drive.

Except she wasn't kidnapping Hank. Really, she thought, sitting next to him. She was just going to ask him to drive her to Cold Ridge. Or not? Should she pretend she'd never gotten that bizarre call?

He had on a sweater and a lightweight suede coat.

It'd be colder in New Hampshire, but he'd be fine. She'd resisted the impulse to drag out her winter coat and instead pulled on a denim jacket. Jeans, turtleneck, sneakers, denim jacket-she looked perfectly normal, even if she felt as if she should be locked up somewhere.

"Where to?" Hank asked, mercifully oblivious to her wild thoughts.

She chewed on her lower lip. Should she tell him about the call? Or just make up some story about why she wanted him to drive her to Cold Ridge?

"Val? What's wrong?"

He was frowning at her, absolutely one of the best-looking men she'd ever met. And kind. So kind. It was dark on her street, not busy. A beautiful Saturday night in Washington. She and Manny should be at the movies. Eric-even if her life was normal, Eric would be in Cold Ridge.
But that's what he wanted.

Hank pulled out into the street and headed to the main intersection and onto a four-lane highway of strip malls and chain restaurants. He seemed to sense something was up. He was so quiet, just glancing at her occasionally out of the corner of his eye. Val almost started crying. She couldn't believe what she was about to do. "Hank, I can't stand it," she said. "I-I need to see Eric. He didn't sound that great the last time I talked to him. If I leave now, I can be there by morning. But I can't- I'm too out of it to drive."

"Do you want to take the shuttle? I can drive you to the airport."

"No." She shook her head, not knowing what the hell she was doing. Why not just tell Hank everything and let him help her figure it out? He was a retired air force major. He'd performed combat missions. He was a damn
senator.
A Massachusetts Callahan. He knew everyone. He had connections. "Never mind. There's a place where we can have coffee down the street."

"Val, I know this has been hard on you-"

Her cell phone rang, and she jumped, gasping in an exaggerated startled reaction. She answered it, her hands shaking violently. She could feel Hank's narrowed eyes on her.

"You have him?"

Again it was that toneless voice. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Do you have him?" the caller repeated calmly.

Hank slowed to a crawl on the busy Arlington street. "Val, who are you talking to?"

"I hear him." But there was no note of satisfaction in the caller's tone. "Good work. Bring him to Cold Ridge. It's your only chance, Val. Do you understand me? Your only chance.
Manny's
only chance. Do what you have to do. Just get Senator Callahan to Cold Ridge."

Her hands were like ice, her fingers gripping the phone as if it might suddenly fly itself out the window. She moaned in despair and frustration. "Don't you get it? I can't drive all the way to New England with a senator!"

Hank slammed on the brake and snatched the phone out of her hand. "Who the hell is this?" He listened a moment, then handed the phone back to her. "Get rid of him. Understood?"

She nodded, although she was past understanding anything.

"Cute trick," the caller said. "I told him I'd only talk to you. Val, be strong. I'm trying to help. The only way I can help is if you bring Hank Callahan to Cold Ridge tonight."

"But-"

"I know it sounds scary and strange." This time, she thought she sensed an undercurrent of friendliness, caring, in the otherwise unchanged voice. "But once I can reveal what I know, once you have the whole picture- both you and the senator will thank me. In the meantime, you
must
follow my instructions to the letter."

"If I don't?"

"Then you'll bear the responsibility for whatever happens. Good or bad. I'm being honest with you. I have the means to help your husband, but only if you're willing to do your part." A pause, calculated, she thought, to further unnerve her. "Mrs. Carrera, please don't mistake me. Some very bad people are after your husband."

"It's something like ten hours to Cold Ridge." She avoided looking at Hank next to her, felt her stomach muscles twist, aching, acid rising up in her throat. "We can take the shuttle and be there in a couple of hours."

But the caller didn't even hesitate. "You know that won't work. Too many air marshals. Drive all night. It'll be okay. Just do as I say. I'll call back when you're farther north and tell you where to bring the senator."

"What if I call the police the second I hang up? What if Hank does?"

"If either of you contacts the police-if you tell anyone-all bets are off, and you'll have to live with the consequences."

He hung up, and Val gulped for air, not thinking as she yanked open the glove compartment and fumbled for her Glock. She pulled it out and pointed it at Hank, who just stared at her, his jaw set, his teeth clenched. He wouldn't know it was unloaded."Val, for Christ's sake."

"Please."
She didn't know what the hell she was doing. "We can't call the police. Something bad'll happen, and I couldn't live with myself-just drive to Cold Ridge. It's a long way. I'll-I'll figure out something in the meantime."

Hank was steely-eyed, outwardly calm. "Your hand's shaking. Mind not pointing that thing at me?"

She didn't lower the gun. She'd meant to check out Washington D.C. gun laws but hadn't gotten around to it. She was fairly certain that handguns, concealed or otherwise, were illegal in the nation's capital. But, kidnapping a U.S. senator was illegal everywhere.

"Hank-please, just do as I ask and let me
think.
I need you to drive us to New Hampshire tonight.You and me."

"I can't do that, Val. I have a wife. I have a job to do."

She pretended not to hear him. "Take I-95. It's an awful road, but it'll be the fastest."

"Why should I do as you say? What was that call all about? Val-"

"Goddamn it, Hank, my head's spinning. Give me a minute, okay? And get back on the road. Don't fuck with me right now. You know I can shoot."

"You won't shoot me."

"Not dead, but I can make you bleed."

He glanced at her. "And I can feed you that damn gun."

"You won't." She managed a faltering smile, even as she fought back tears. "You know I'm desperate. I'm- I'm trying to buy us some time. I don't know if this guy's on the level. If he is, great, at least he's on our side. If he's not-well, then we're screwed, anyway."

"Val, trust me. Talk to me." His voice was earnest, serious, and she remembered Manny telling her Hank Callahan was one of the coolest pilots under fire he'd ever seen. "Tell me what's going on. I can help."

"Just drive."

"Let me call the police."

"No. I can't risk it." Her head was throbbing, as if she had cobwebs growing in her skull, multiplying, squeezing her brain, so that she couldn't think. "Manny's incommunicado. Tyler's already in Cold Ridge. Eric-I talked to him a little while ago. He's in his dorm, asleep. I'm out of the loop. If I do something wrong-I couldn't live with myself."

"You're doing something wrong now."

"He-at least I think it's a he. Maybe not. Anyway, I'll get another call with more instructions when we're closer to Cold Ridge. Jesus, that's a long time."

"You're goddamn right it is."

"But you'll do it, won't you?"

Hank nodded tightly, turning onto the interstate. Traffic was heavy, endless rows of headlights and brake lights, the whoosh of passing cars and trucks, all of it adding to her confusion and anxiety. He had a thousand options, but Val suspected he wanted to buy himself some time to think, too. And he'd want to find out what was going on in Cold Ridge as much as she did.

He sighed at her with his first hint of real irritation. "Just put the fucking Glock away, will you?"

"The f-word, Hank?" She smiled faintly, not letting go of her gun. "If your constituents could hear you now."

Ty reached for the phone when it rang and answered it before he thought about where he was-in Carine's loft bed. But it was Antonia, as collected as ever despite the obvious note of concern in her voice. "Did I wake you?" she asked. "I called your place first. I thought you and Carine were staying there-never mind. Hank got your message and went over to Val's over two hours ago."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost midnight. He's not back, and I haven't heard from him."

Carine stirred, and Ty sat up. He had the inside of the bed, next to the slanted ceiling. "Did you call over there?"

"No answer. I'm trying not to overreact. Hank's cell isn't on, and I don't have Val's number." She sighed, her calm faltering. "Tyler, what the hell's going on? I know Val must be scared to death about Manny's situation. Have you talked to her?"

"Not tonight. Earlier today. The police were at her door-"

"We heard about that. They had a search warrant. Well, that's enough to frighten anyone. I've got the media here-they showed up not long after Hank left for Val's. They've made the connection between him and Manny. I think they're gone now."

Carine touched Ty's arm, and he gave her a reassuring nod, although he felt a twinge of uneasiness. Val Carrera was volatile on a good day-funny as hell when she wasn't depressed, but impulsive. And no one who knew her wanted to piss her off. "Antonia, is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I don't give a damn about the media, but-Hank-" She gulped in a breath, revealing some of the stress she was accustomed to keeping so carefully hidden. "He's sympathetic to Val's situation."

"We're all sympathetic, but it's late."

"I could go down to her apartment."

"Not alone."

Carine, impatient, motioned for the phone, and North handed it to her. "Antonia? What's up?" She listened a moment, then shook her head. "No, you listen to me for a change. Give Hank thirty minutes. If he doesn't get in touch with you, you don't go down to Val's. You sound the damn alarm."

Antonia called back twenty minutes later. Carine was in the kitchen making tea, debating whether or not to call Gus and get him up. Ty talked her out of it. He simply had to suggest she put on more water for tea-it put the same image in her head that he had, Gus and Stump in her cabin at one o'clock in the morning.

He could hear the relief in Antonia's voice. "Hank called. He and Val are on their way to Cold Ridge."

"They're driving up here tonight?"

"Val wants to see Eric. Hank says she's very stressed out and hanging by threads, and you know how he is. He's loyal, and he's a good guy. He also said Val's worried about Eric-you know that's all it'd take. Hank's got a soft spot where children are concerned."

Ty knew. Ten years ago, Hank had lost his first wife and three-year-old daughter in a car accident while he was serving overseas. He'd dedicated himself to his work and public service, but it had taken Antonia Winter to get him to let himself take the risk of falling in love again.

"How'd he sound?" Ty asked.

"I don't know-he's very good at concealing what he's really feeling. It's such a stressful situation." She sighed, breaking off. "I'm coming up there. I'll take the first plane I can out of here in the morning."

The kettle whistled, and Carine, frowning at him, grabbed a pot holder and filled her chipped teapot with the hot water. But she didn't snatch the phone out of his hand, and he said, "Nate's coming tomorrow, too. Maybe you two can meet up at the airport."

"That'd be good. I don't want to be a worrywart, but it's just-" Antonia faltered, a rarity for her. "Never mind. You have enough on your plate without fretting about me. Carine? You're keeping your promise?"

He smiled. "I don't know about that."

"Liar. You know damned well what you've been up to. So do I. I
am
a doctor-and I know you two."

"Goodbye, Antonia. Safe flight tomorrow."

He hung up. Carine unwrapped tea bags and dropped them in the hot water, their tags hanging over the sides of the teapot. Normal tea bags. But Ty could see the tension in the way she held herself. They'd pulled on their clothes, but there was no pretending what happened in the loft hadn't happened. She knew it had, and she wasn't sure she approved.

Well, who would?

But he pushed the thought out of his mind and dialed Manny's cell phone, and when he got his friend's voice mail-again-he left a pointed message. "You have Val's cell phone number? Call her. She's up to something."

With as much adrenaline as she had pumping through her, Val didn't get sleepy on the long drive north. Hank wasn't dropping off, either. He sat rigidly as he drove, as if he were on some secret military mission. She'd let him call Antonia and reassure her, although it didn't sound like she was thrilled when he told her he was on his way to Cold Ridge.

After he'd hung up with his new wife, he glared at her. "Get this straight, Val. I'm not driving you to Cold Ridge because you've got your goddamn gun. I'm driving you because I know you're frightened and feel you're out of options. So, let's just get there."

The hours ticked by. It was a dark, cloudy night, but there was no rain. Traffic eased, and when they crossed the border into New Hampshire and the sun came up, she wondered if she'd imagined the calls. Wouldn't that be nice? She'd rather be delusional than have to face the caller again.

The yellow and orange leaves had vanished, in their place, bare limbs and patches of oaks with brown-and burgundy leaves. The air was colder. She could feel it even with the heat on in the car. The sun and the blue sky were deceptive. She looked up at the looming mountains, stark against the clear sky, and saw that some of the highest peaks had snow.

They were off the interstate now, almost to Cold Ridge.

She sighed at Hank, trying to distract herself. "Do you ever wish you'd stayed in for thirty instead of retiring?"

He glanced over at her. "Right now I do."

She ignored his tight undertone. "Manny had no business getting out. Don't you think he'd make a great PJ instructor? He's like this old warhorse. He's done all these different kinds of missions. He's seen it all. I don't want him back in combat, but he could be an instructor."

"Val," Hank interrupted softly, "let me help you."

She stared down at the Glock in her lap. "I don't know what to do."

"Talk to me."

Her fatigue was eating away at her reserves. They'd had no food, no water since hitting the road. They'd had to stop for gas, but Val had done the pumping, her unloaded Glock tucked in the waistband of her jeans. They'd managed a bathroom run, and that was really when she'd realized Hank wasn't going to try to escape-he was playing along with her, because he was her friend, he knew her, he knew she was scared and desperate and stupid.

He was so damned caring. Nobody could ever fault Hank Callahan for not caring.

She sank her forehead into her hands and started to sob.

"Val…what would Manny want you to do?" Hank's voice was gentle, breaking through her fog of desperation, her sobs. "He loves you. I've never seen a man love a woman as much as he does you. Twenty years from now, if Antonia and I have what you two have-"

"Don't-Hank, please don't."

"He'd want you to trust me."

She lifted her head, sniffling. "He'd want me to jump out of this car so you could run me over."

She could feel Hank's smile. "Well, that, too."

"Oh, shit." She threw back her head and swore at the top of her lungs, then looked over at him. "I could have been an astronaut, you know."

"Val…"

She told him everything. What was in Manny's computer files, about the police search warrant-and about her caller. Hank listened without interruption. That was another of his virtues. He listened to people. Not Manny, she thought. Mostly, Manny liked to be listened to.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

Hank stayed focused on the narrow, winding road. "We're in Cold Ridge now. It's where we both need to be, don't you think?"

She nodded. "When you say it, it sounds sensible."

He reached over and wiped a tear off the end of her nose. "Wait'll Manny sees you. What a mess."

"He didn't kill that guy."

"I know."

Her phone rang, and she managed to answer it without dropping the gun. "Yes?"

"Where are you?" the toneless voice asked.

"I'm not saying until you tell me who you are."

The caller paused, then gave a sad, long-suffering sigh. "You've told Senator Callahan, haven't you? He's calling the shots. I thought it might come to this. Well, allow me to persuade you in another way."

"Look, if you really are a friend-"

"You called your son last night."

"What?" She couldn't grasp what he was saying, couldn't make the leap. "What about my son? How did you know I called him?"

"I was with him. You called him on his cell phone. You assumed he was in his dorm room-"

"No!"

"I made him take the phone with him, Mrs. Carrera. I have your son."

Hank didn't say a word or try to take the phone from her; he just pulled over to the side of the road and waited.

A numbness crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "What-what do you want me to do?"

"Mom?" It was Eric, coughing, scared. "Mom, he made me pretend I was asleep-"

"Where are you?"

But the caller had grabbed the phone away. "Feisty little kid, for an asthmatic." There was no friendliness in the toneless voice now. "He has his rescue inhaler and his EpiPen, but it's November in the mountains. Open the window. Feel the air. He won't last long."

"Don't hurt my son.
Please.
"

"If you cooperate, he'll have a chance. If anything happens to me, I promise you, Mrs. Carrera-Val-no one will find your son in time."

She gulped in a breath. "We're on the main road into the village. What do you want me to do?"

"Turn onto the notch road. Hank knows it. There are two scenic pullovers. The first one is at a lake. Don't take that one. The second one-the one you want-is at a picnic area. A couple of picnic tables, a lot of rocks. Pull in and wait for me. I'll find you."

"Eric-"

"Any cops, any curveball at all, your kid is dead. It's cold,he'ssick.ButIdon'twanthim.Doyouunderstand?"

"No, I-"

"I want the senator in exchange for your son."

That was all. He was gone. The phone was dead in her hand.

She kept gulping in air, not exhaling.

"Val." It was Hank, his voice gentle, trying to penetrate her shock. "Val, breathe out, sweetheart."

"He's got Eric." She clawed at Hank's arm. "Oh, my God!"

"What does he want?"

She didn't want to tell him. Kids were Hank's weakness. Everyone knew it. If he could exchange himself for Eric, even die in his place, Hank Callahan, senator-elect from Massachusetts, would do it without hesitation.

"Val?"

She clenched his arm, and she could see it in his eyes. He knew.