Authors: Erin Quinn
Below her was a shrub and, beyond that, grass that looked black in the night. She squirmed back in and dropped to her feet.
“Jessica, this is our plan. You and I are going through that window.”
Jessica nodded.
“Now, I can help you get up there, but you’re going to have to jump out on your own. Can you do that?
“I’m a good jumper.”
“I’m glad to hear that, sugar, because you’re going to need to be.”
“Are we going to get away?”
“Yes—”
“Really? I mean, he’s not going to just get us again?”
“Come here, Jessica.” Jessica shuffled over. Squatting to her eye level, Christie asked, “Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
“I’m scared too. But I’ll tell you what. I’m more scared of being here, than of being out there. You just have to remember, on that side of the window we can get help.”
“Okay, Christie. I’m ready.”
“That’s my girl. Let’s get out of here before he comes back.”
Christie climbed back in the tub and squatted, so Jessica could crawl onto her shoulders. Standing, she willed her unsteady legs to support them. Her heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. Her legs trembled and her arm screamed pain.
She felt the press of responsibility for the child on her shoulders. It colored her emotions a swirling gray of unknown. She’d never been responsible for another living soul before. It scared her.
Somehow through the years she’d convinced herself that she couldn’t be accountable for anyone but herself. That because her mother had been incapable of giving unselfishly, Christie, too, would be unable. But here she was, escaping and saving a child in the process. It charged her with a new and unexplored feeling.
Maybe she could have made Sam happy if she hadn’t been so certain that he would leave her. Thinking back, she had forced him to the door. She prayed she would see him again so she could tell him she loved him. She prayed he was still alive.
Balancing Jessica on her shoulders, Christie murmured a silent pledge to get them both out of this and away from DC Porter. She
would
protect them. She would not give up.
And after this was all over, if Sam still wanted her, she would go back to him. This time, when he wanted to talk about children, she wasn’t going to freeze up inside. She would explain her fears and face them. No more hiding. No more running.
If Sam was even alive.
She shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
As soon as Jessica grabbed the window ledge, Christie took hold of her legs and pushed her up. On the ledge, Jessica looked back, her eyes questioning and reassuring at once. Christie sent the same message back.
I know it’s scary, but you can do it.
Jessica jumped.
Immediately, Christie followed. Clearing the bush, she hit the grass. The impact jarred her arm and head, but she hardly noticed. Rolling with her fall, she looked for Jessica.
“Okay?” Christie whispered.
“Okay,” Jessica answered.
They ran.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The headlights of Mike’s car picked out the sprawling white hacienda as he pulled into the circular drive and parked. In the backseat, Rookie whined, pressing his nose to the window. Mike didn’t question the impulse that had motivated him to bring his dog. Rookie was the best backup he’d ever had.
Through the darkness his gaze met Kathy’s. The ordeal she’d suffered lined her face, adding years to her appearance, but nothing could take away from the quiet beauty that molded her features. He reached over and squeezed her hand as she moved to get out.
Mike rang the doorbell, listening to it echo through the house. They waited in the glow of the porch light as the last notes faded. He rang again, peering through the narrow stained glass window. Inside, he spotted a teenage boy ambling down the hallway toward them, in no hurry to answer the door.
Mike bit back his frustration. How was the kid to know the importance of this visit? How was the kid to know that time was running out?
At last, the door opened and the boy stared at them with belligerent eyes. “Yeah?”
Mike identified himself as a police officer and asked to speak with Beth McClain.
“What do you want her for?”
“Is she here?”
“Nah. She’s gone,” he said, pushing the door closed.
Mike stopped it with his foot. Too tired to deal with the kid’s attitude, he forced his questions through clenched teeth. “When will she be back?”
“You got a warrant?”
His patience snapped. “You got a problem? I’m looking for Beth McClain. Right now I don’t plan to arrest her, but if you aggravate me any more, I’ll find any reason I can to haul her in. Now when’s she going to be back?”
Blinking his surprise, the boy shrugged. “I dunno. She just left a few minutes ago.”
“Okay, that’s a start. Where did she go?”
“I dunno. She didn’t tell me.”
“What’s your name?”
“James.”
“You’re her son, right?”
James nodded, shifting his weight from one sneakered foot to the other. His hands were jammed deep into his pockets and his shoulders slouched forward. His expression grew less aggressive, more unsure, the longer Mike stared down at him.
“All right, James,” Mike said, pulling out the picture of DC. “How about this guy? Have you seen him around?”
“Yeah,” James mumbled. “I’ve seen him here talking to my mom. She was pretty pissed when he left.”
“What were they talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
Mike stared at the kid for a moment. James was scared. Mike sensed his fear under the smartass facade.
“Can we come in?”
James opened the door wider, “I guess. My dad should be home later, but he probably doesn’t know anything either. They never talk, unless they fight. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“We’re looking for the guy your mother was talking to. He’s wanted for kidnapping and murder. Do you know how she knows him?”
James paled, blinking his eyes rapidly as Mike’s words sank in. “No. I only saw him that one time.”
“When was that?”
“A few days ago. I was upstairs listening to my stereo. When I came down he was in the kitchen with Mom. He left after he saw me. Mom said he was a client, but he didn’t look like one. He looked like he’d been in a fight or something.”
“Did you hear any of their conversation?”
“No, I told you.”
“And he hasn’t been back since?”
James shook his head. “But I think he just called.”
“When?”
“I was on the phone when you rang the bell.”
“What did he say?” Kathy spoke for the first time, leaning forward with anxiety.
Mike placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, explaining Kathy’s presence to James. “We believe he’s kidnapped Kathy’s daughter. She may not have much time left.”
With his confusion clearly written on his face, he told them, “He asked for my mom. I said she was gone. He called me a liar. Said he’d just talked to her. Then he called me a bastard and hung up. What does he want with my mom?”
“Good question. He used to work for her. Ever hear her talk about her employees?”
James shook his head again. “I don’t know anything. I swear.”
Mike exhaled, looking at the kid’s anguished expression. “Okay, James. Thanks for trying. Where’s your phone?”
While Mike called the station, he watched Kathy sitting in numb silence, staring sightlessly at James. They both seemed absorbed with their own questions, their own misery. His call connected to Jackson and he turned his back to the room, listening to what he had to say. When he hung up, Mike was ready to move again. He met Kathy’s gaze, motioning for her to come with him as he headed for the door.
“McCoy hasn’t checked in,” he said, “but Jackson says some kid from Scorletti’s Pizza called. DC was just in, using the phone.”
James looked up. “Scorletti’s in El Cajon?”
“Yeah, that’s the place. Why?”
“We’ve got a rental house out there.”
* * *
Sam checked his watch again, his curses echoing in the closed cab of the Jeep. He was still a good ten minutes away. He’d wasted precious time trying to get through to Jackson at the station. First, an endless busy signal. Then, terminal hold. He couldn’t delay any more. He had to get to Christie.
He dodged between lanes of traffic, flashing his brights into the rearviews of those who wouldn’t get out of his way. For once, he wished the cops would see him. God knew he could use the backup. But flying across the blackened freeway, only Sam’s fear for Christie chased him.
He had to find Christie.
* * *
Christie and Jessica ran down the dark street as fast as they could, cutting across yards as they went door to door, pounding on each. None opened to let them in.
Christie choked back her frustration. It was late, the neighborhood seedy, the city crazed with crime. Who could blame the occupants for remaining safely barricaded behind their closed doors?
Legs pumping the ground, hearts pounding in their chests, they kept moving. Sweat burned Christie’s eyes and her spit tasted hot in her mouth. She pushed harder, half dragging Jessica along with her.
The neighborhood was quiet with only a few dogs peeking from behind fences to witness their escape. She didn’t know in which direction she ran, didn’t know where she was going. She just moved.
Turning a corner, they tried another house without luck, then darted onto the connecting street. From behind her, Christie heard a car. Terrified that it was DC, she dived behind a bush that scalloped the sidewalk, pulling Jessica down with her. Moon shadows played with her imagination. Darting images of horror danced across the lawns and bent through the trees.
But nothing was more horrifying than what she’d left behind. She bit her lip as the car cruised by. An unfamiliar face glowed like a small moon behind the wheel. The car turned the corner.
Christie and Jessica bounded from their hiding place and kept running. She would get to a phone. That was her plan. Her only plan. Get to a phone.
Sam . . . are you still alive?
With a renewed burst of strength, Christie pushed on.
As the scenery whipped past them in a jerking blur, Christie searched for a phone. When she finally saw one glowing from the parking lot of a deserted gas station, she couldn’t believe her eyes. They raced to the lighted booth.
Christie grabbed the receiver and punched out the three numbers that would connect her with help. She waited, but the call didn’t connect. Jarring the hook-switch up and down, she listened to the flat silence that should have been a dial tone.
Frustrated rage bubbled up inside her. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning for a different phone, feeling far too exposed in the small booth. Another set of headlights gleamed from the street, becoming bright as they moved closer.
Christie squeezed Jessica’s hand, tensing to run as she tracked the car’s progress. It was moving fast and it passed them quickly before the rear lights flashed as brakes screamed.
Christie dropped the phone, yelling, “Jessica, run!”
The two turned, heading for the back of the station as the reversing engine thundered in the dark. It stopped…doors opened. Christie’s heart felt as if it would explode, her scant reserves of adrenaline hitting her bloodstream with little effect. As hard as she tried, she could not push her feet to pump faster.
Ahead, Jessica faltered, looking back at Christie.
“Go—” Christie commanded.
“Jessica!” a woman’s voice screamed from behind them. “
JESSICA
!”
The girl halted, stopping so abruptly she stumbled over her momentum. “Mommy?”
As the whispered word left Jessica’s lips, Christie heard her name, too. Who was calling her? She dared a look over her shoulder, shock widening her eyes as she recognized Mike Simens behind her. Confused, Christie’s gaze swiveled to the woman-sized version of Jessica Jordan racing at his side.
Too pumped by terror to conceive the idea of rescue, Christie slowed gradually as Jessica ran to the outstretched arms of her mother. The two Jordans collided in an embrace that went beyond physical. Kathy’s moan carried on the dark breeze, sounding inhuman in its depth.
Christie sank to the ground.
“Christie? Are you okay?” Mike asked as he knelt in front of her.
She stared at him, trying to put meaning to his words. What was okay? She shook her head and asked, “Sam?”
“Sam’s alive. He’s okay. He’s looking for you.”
The wake of relief left her teeth chattering and her body shaking. It was no use trying to pull herself together when she’d been blasted so far apart. Her gaze moved to Jessica, wrapped in the haven of her mother’s arms and the longing for the warmth of her own mother overwhelmed Christie.
Then she realized that she did feel her mother, within her, holding her tight, putting the scattered pieces of her daughter back in place. She felt her arms, her hands stroking Christie’s hair, brushing away her tears. Caressing away the hurt.
“Come on,” Mike said, rising. “Let’s get out of here before Porter finds us.”
Kathy nodded, sniffling through her tears. Wrapped in a cocoon, insulated with shocked relief, Christie rose to her feet. Her gaze met Jessica’s across the space that separated them and she knew instinctively what the girl was about to say.
“Aren’t you going to go get him?” Jessica asked. “If you don’t get him, he’ll come back. He’ll come back for us.”
“Jessica’s right,” Christie said reluctantly. “He’s going to run when he finds out we’re gone. Disappear, so you’ll never catch him. But he’ll come back for us. I know it.”
“I know it, too,” Mike said. “And as soon as I drop you off at the station—”
“NO!” all three of them cried at once.
Mike continued as if they hadn’t spoken. “I’m going after him. But we’ve got to get moving. Every second counts.”
Kathy shook her head, reaching out an imploring hand. “Mike, if you take us to the station, we’ll be answering questions for hours. Jessica’s not up to that. I’m not up to it, either.”