TAKEN!

Pinned inside her wrecked car, Rachel Simon is powerless to stop her son’s abduction. Unless she can come up with one million dollars, Joey won’t survive until Christmas. With her son’s life hanging in the balance, Rachel turns to the one lawman who can help her. His own painful past still shadowing him, Detective Nick Butler is determined not to fail. Racing against a ticking clock, Nick will have to put all his investigative skills to the test if mother and son are to be reunited—and then perhaps he might have a chance at the redeeming power of love.

Her greatest weakness was her son’s safety. If the kidnappers threatened to hurt him, she knew she’d go along with whatever they asked of her.

Rachel turned to walk away, but suddenly Nick grabbed her hand to stop her. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him staring at her intently. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Just—be careful, okay?” he said gruffly. Then, before she could respond, he pulled her close and gave her a quick kiss.

The kiss was over before she had a chance to register what had happened. But she longed to throw herself into his arms, absorbing some of his strength. This wasn’t the time or the place, though, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Remember your promise,” she blurted. “No matter what happens, save my son.”

LAURA SCOTT

grew up reading faith-based romance books by Grace Livingston Hill, but as much as she loved the stories, she longed for a bit more mystery and suspense. She is honored to write for the Love Inspired Suspense line, where a reader can find a heartwarming journey of faith amid the thrilling danger.

Laura lives with her husband of twenty-five years and has two children, a daughter and a son, who are both in college. She works as a critical-care nurse during the day at a large level-one trauma center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and spends her spare time writing romance.

Please visit Laura at www.laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

Her Mistletoe Protector

Laura Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

—Philippians 4:4

This book is dedicated to my sister Michele Glynn. I know Madison is only an hour away, but I still miss you so much. I love you!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

ONE

“Ms. Simon, wait! I have a letter for you.”

Rachel Simon, CEO of Simon Inc., froze, despite the fact that she was running late for her nine-o’clock meeting. The sick feeling in her stomach swelled with dread as she forced herself to turn and face the receptionist.

“Here you go,” Carrie Freeman said with a wide smile.

Rachel stared at the thin envelope with her name typed neatly on the front, the dread congealing into a mass of fear. The letter looked exactly like the one she’d received in her mailbox at home last night, and she instinctively knew there was another threat inside. She swallowed hard and took the envelope from the receptionist, being careful to hold it along the edges. Then she cleared her throat. “Who dropped this off for me, Carrie?”

“I don’t know... It was sitting on my desk chair when I came back from the restroom. There was a sticky note, telling me to deliver it to you first thing.”

Rachel tried hard to keep her fear from showing as she cast a worried gaze around the lobby. Was the person who had left the note watching her right now? “Do you still have the sticky note?” she asked.

Carrie’s expression turned perplexed. “I tossed it in the trash bin.” Rachel glanced over the receptionist’s shoulder at the large stainless-steel trash container standing near the lobby door. “Do you want me to go through the garbage to find it?” Carrie’s tone indicated she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of pawing in the trash although Rachel knew she would if asked.

As much as she wanted to see the note, she shook her head. Asking Carrie to search through the bin would only bring unwanted attention to herself. She wasn’t ready to go public with the weird phone calls and the threatening letter she’d received. The last thing she needed was some sort of leak to the media, as if her company hadn’t been through the wringer already.

“No thanks, just curious to see if I recognized the handwriting, that’s all. Thanks again, Carrie.”

Rachel turned back toward the elevators, her mind focused on the contents of the letter rather than on her upcoming meeting with the two top research scientists in her pharmaceutical company.

The ride to the tenth floor, where her office suite was located, seemed to take forever. She smiled and chatted with various employees as if the envelope in her hand didn’t matter.

“Good morning, Rachel,” her senior administrative assistant, Edith Goodman, said as she entered through the glass doors. “Dr. Gardener and Dr. Errol are waiting for you in the conference room.”

“I’m sorry, but please tell Josie and Karl that I’ll need to reschedule our meeting.”

Surprise flashed in Edith’s eyes, but she quickly nodded and crossed over to the conference room next to Rachel’s office. As her assistant delivered the news to the two researchers, Rachel ducked inside her office and closed the door, dropping the envelope on her desk as if it might burn her fingers.

She didn’t have any gloves, so she put another piece of paper over the envelope and used her letter opener to slice beneath the flap. Inside was a single piece of paper with a computer-printed message, exactly like the one she’d received at home. Her stomach knotted with anxiety as she carefully opened the paper and read the short message.

“You will scream in agony, suffering for your past mistakes.”

She shivered, the words searing into her mind. She opened her purse and drew out the letter she’d received last night, when she and her son, Joey, had come home from basketball practice. The wording was similar, yet different.

“You will repay your debt of betrayal.”

The two letters, spread out side by side on her desk, seemed to mock her. She couldn’t ignore the threat any longer, not when she knew, with grim certainty, the source of the veiled threat.

The only person she’d ever betrayed was her ex-husband, former State Senator Anthony Caruso. A few months after they were married, the joy of discovering she was pregnant was marred by learning Anthony had ties to organized crime. At first she couldn’t believe he was involved in anything illegal. She was embarrassed that the man she’d fallen in love with was nothing more than an illusion. His fake charm covered a black soul.

All too soon, Anthony was openly talking about his Mafia association as if nothing she did could touch him.

But he’d been wrong. She’d lived in fear for months, but one night, he’d lost control and hit her hard enough to give her a black eye and a minor concussion. The evidence of physical abuse, along with her father’s money—and the fact that her father’s best friend was a judge—helped her buy her freedom.

And Joey’s, too. She received sole custody of their son and a no-contact order. Joey was nine years old now, and she was eternally grateful Anthony hadn’t seen his son since Joey’s first birthday.

But since Anthony’s untimely death last year during a crime bust, it was obvious he couldn’t have sent these letters. So who had? She could only assume they’d come from someone inside the Chicago Mafia. Most likely from Anthony’s uncle, Frankie Caruso.

She buried her face in her hands and fought the rising wave of helplessness. How long would she continue to pay for her naive mistake of marrying Anthony? This past year, since her ex-husband’s death, she’d thought she was finally safe. But now it seemed the Mafia wasn’t going to leave her alone.

Ever.

Taking several deep breaths, she did her best to control her fear. When she raised her head, she knew she had to take action. With trembling fingers, she went through her files to find the business card of a Chicago police detective who’d questioned her about Anthony last year. She needed to talk to someone who knew the truth about Anthony. Someone who understood how deeply infiltrated the Mafia was in this city.

Someone who would believe her—like Detective Nick Butler. They’d only met a few times, but she remembered him well. He was tall, broad shouldered with light brown hair and amazing blue eyes. In so many ways, Nick was the complete opposite of her ex-husband.

To be honest, Detective Butler hadn’t been very happy with her last year during his investigation of Anthony, but that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop her from picking up her phone and making the call.

If there was one thing she knew about Detective Butler, it was that he sincerely cared about justice. He’d worked against the Mafia before. She could only hope that he wouldn’t turn his back on her now.

* * *

Nick stared at the various reports spread over his desk as he tried to figure out a way to breathe new life into his dead-end cases. With his partner out on medical leave and the upcoming holidays, he hadn’t been assigned anything new. But working their old cases felt pretty much like beating his head against a brick wall.

When his phone rang, he answered it absently. “Detective Butler.”

“Good morning, Detective. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Rachel Simon.”

Nick straightened in his chair, his instincts on full alert. “Of course, I remember you, Ms. Simon. How are you and your son, Joey, doing?”

“Fine. Well, sort of fine. I, uh, have a problem I’d like to discuss with you. I think it’s linked to your past investigation....”

The subtle reference to the Mafia wasn’t lost on him. He was surprised to hear from Rachel after all this time, yet he couldn’t ignore the underlying hint of fear in her tone. He rose to his feet and glanced at his watch. “I can meet you now, if that works.”

“That would be great. Do you remember where my office is located?”

“Yes. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you.”

After ending the call, Nick slid his cell phone into his pocket and strode to the door. He remembered Rachel Simon very well, as he’d questioned her last year related to a missing-person’s case. Her ex-husband had been the prime suspect in the twenty-two-year-old model’s disappearance.

Rachel hadn’t been much help to his investigation, because she claimed she hadn’t seen or spoken to her husband in seven years. Which, based on the divorce settlement and the no-contact order he’d uncovered, was likely true. But at the time he’d felt certain she was holding back on him, that she knew far more about her ex-husband’s connection to the Mafia than she’d let on. And even then, her fear of her ex had been palpable.

Ironic how she’d contacted him now that she needed his assistance. And he couldn’t deny being curious as to what was going on.

The ride to the office building of Simon Inc. took less than his allotted fifteen minutes. He walked into the lobby and smiled at the perky redhead sitting behind the receptionist desk. “Good morning, I’m here to see Ms. Simon.”

“Yes, she mentioned you were coming.” The redhead wore a name tag that identified her as Carrie Freeman and she was young enough to make him feel ancient at thirty-seven. “Just take these elevators here to the tenth floor.”

“Thanks.” He pushed the elevator button, already knowing Rachel’s office was on the tenth floor. Once he arrived up there, he was greeted warmly by Rachel’s assistant, Edith Goodman. A far cry from the last time he’d been here, when the sixty-something-year-old had protected her boss like a mama bear hovering over her cub.

“Rachel’s waiting for you in her office,” Edith said. “Is there something I can get for you, Detective? Coffee? Soft drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“Black, no sugar, correct?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised she remembered, considering Edith Goodman ruled Rachel’s office with an iron fist. “That’s right.”

Rachel’s office door was open, and she met him halfway, offering her hand as he strolled toward her. “Detective, thanks for coming on such short notice.”

Her slender fingers were firm as they gripped his. She was as beautiful as he remembered, with her sleek blond hair framing her face and distinctive green eyes. But despite her smile, dark shadows hovered in her eyes. “I have to admit, I was intrigued by your call.”

Her smile faded, and she waited until Edith had handed him a mug of coffee, before inviting him inside her office. “Please, have a seat.”

He sat in the chair facing hers, and his gaze immediately landed on the two pieces of paper lying on her desk. They’d been turned toward him. He took a sip from the steaming mug before setting his coffee aside. He leaned forward and read the messages.

“You will repay your debt of betrayal.”

“You will scream in agony, suffering for your past mistakes.”

The threats were all too real and his protective instincts jumped to the forefront. He was angry at the idea of Rachel being stalked by some lunatic. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Who sent these to you?” he demanded roughly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rachel scowled and crossed her arms protectively across her chest.

“Not to me,” he said, striving for patience. “An ex-boyfriend? A disgruntled employee? You must have some idea.”

Her scowl deepened. “I don’t have a boyfriend, ex or otherwise, and a disgruntled employee would more likely try to sue me rather than send threats. I’ve received a few phone calls, too. The caller never speaks, but I can hear heavy breathing on the other end of the phone. Don’t you see?” She spread her hands over the letters. “These have to be from someone within the Mafia.”

He stared at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. Their last interaction hadn’t been entirely cordial, since she’d avoided discussing anything related to her husband’s ties to the Mafia. He sat back and reached for his coffee mug. “So you’re admitting that Anthony Caruso was involved with the Mafia?”

Her cheeks turned pink and she avoided his gaze as if embarrassed. “I told you that much a year ago,” she said defensively.

“But you claimed you didn’t know any details,” he reminded her.

“Look, Detective, my goal last year was to do whatever was necessary to protect my son. And I never lied to you about that missing woman. At the time we spoke I hadn’t seen Anthony in seven years, so I had no idea who he was seeing or who he was associating with.”

“But you knew what he was capable of,” Nick said, capturing her gaze with his.

She stared at him for a long moment before breaking the connection. And when she spoke, her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. “Yes. I knew exactly what he was capable of. I believe he murdered that woman. But my belief is a far cry from actual hard-core evidence. There was nothing that I knew that would have helped your case.”

The simple admission helped squelch his lingering anger. He was a bit ashamed that he’d spent time rehashing the past instead of moving forward. He caught sight of the photo of her son, Joey, that was displayed proudly on her desk. The kid had blond hair, green eyes and a smile that matched his mother’s. Nick could understand her need to keep silent if it meant protecting her child.

For a moment, he thought about how much he missed his wife and daughter. He would have done anything to protect them, too. But unfortunately, they both died in a terrible car accident two years ago. And while he knew they were in a much better place in heaven, he still missed them every day.

He pushed the painful memories aside. “Okay, maybe someone within the Mafia sent them, but at this point, we don’t have any proof. We can’t go after anyone in the syndicate without evidence. I’ll take these notes and have them dusted for prints. Maybe that’ll give us a place to start.”

She grimaced. “Well, to be perfectly honest, the first one probably won’t help much. I treated it normally since I had no idea that it was a threat. The second letter I was very careful with, although the envelope was handled by my receptionist.” She went on to describe in detail how she’d received the letters.

He made notes in his notebook. “Do you remember when the phone calls came in?” he asked. “Was there a common number?”

“The calls came from a blocked number, and they started three days ago.”

Three phone calls and two written threats in the past three days. Hard to tell if the danger was escalating. He’d known some stalkers who called their victims twenty or thirty times a day. These messages seemed to be aimed at keeping Rachel off balance and afraid. “You haven’t noticed anyone following you? Or watching you?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Her gaze rested on her son’s photograph. “Right now, the threats are centered on me, but I called you because I need to be sure Joey is safe.”

“I understand. I’ll see what we can get from these letters, but at this point, our hands are tied.” As much as he wanted to order protection for her, they needed more than just her suspicion that the Mafia was behind the threats. He took out his business card and slid it across the desk. “I want you to be extra vigilant. If you see anything suspicious, please call me on my personal phone regardless of the time of day or night.”

She took the card and nodded. “Thank you.”

He rose to his feet, wishing there was more that could be done. After donning a pair of gloves, he placed both notes and the envelopes in a plastic evidence bag, even though he knew the odds of getting a decent set of prints were slim. And they’d have to get Rachel’s fingerprints as well as the receptionist’s on file to cross match them.

Having a new case to work on would help keep him busy. But first he needed to see what the forensic team came up with. Otherwise, he’d have nothing to go on, which wouldn’t help keep Rachel and her son safe.

And he wasn’t about to lose another mother and child on his watch.

* * *

Rachel managed to get some work done before heading out to take Joey to his last basketball game before the Christmas holiday. The drive to the school, located on the outskirts of town, was uneventful. The game turned out to be a lot of fun and her son scored four points, edging their team to a ten to eight victory. Joey and his teammates were loud and rambunctious as they celebrated, and Rachel felt more at ease as the night unfolded. But as she and Joey headed home, she noticed a big black truck keeping pace behind her. No matter what speed she chose to go, the truck remained right behind her.

Detective Butler had warned her to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. At the moment, the truck certainly seemed suspicious, but maybe she was letting her imagination get the better of her. She didn’t recall seeing a truck behind her on the way to the basketball game or parked anywhere along the long country road outside the school.

So how would the driver of the black truck know where to find her? How would anyone have access to Joey’s basketball schedule? Maybe this was nothing more than a coincidence.

She did her best to keep her expression neutral as Joey relived every moment of winning the basketball game.

“Did you see my last basket? The coach said it was amazing and that without my score we might not have won the game. Isn’t that awesome, Mom?” he asked for the third time. “I can’t wait until our next tournament. Coach said I can be in the starting lineup!”

“The game was awesome,” she agreed, looking once again in her rearview mirror. Was the truck gaining on them? Darkness came early in December so it was hard to gauge the distance. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and pressed down on the accelerator. For the first time she bemoaned the fact she’d traded in her high-powered sports car for a four-cylinder eco-friendly hybrid last year. The hybrid’s engine chugged as she fought to increase her speed.

The truck edged closer, and she glanced helplessly around at the winding country road she’d taken to avoid the traffic on the interstate. Was the driver of the truck behind her the same person who’d sent her the threatening letters? Was he working for someone linked to the Mafia?

Swallowing hard, she drew her cell phone out of the front pocket of her sweatshirt and pushed the preprogrammed number for Nick Butler. He’d told her to call day or night and, thankfully, seven-thirty in the evening wasn’t too late. She held her breath until he answered.

“Butler.”

“It’s Rachel. We’re being followed by a black truck license plate number TYG-555. We’re on Handover Road, just past Highway 12.”

“Mom? What’s going on?” Joey swiveled in his seat, finally realizing that something was wrong.

“Hang tight, I’m not far away. I’ll be right there,” Nick said in a calm, reassuring tone.

“Hurry,” she urged, before sliding the phone back into her pocket and returning both hands to the wheel. She increased her speed more, wondering why Nick would be so close, when suddenly, the truck rammed into her from behind, causing the steering wheel to jerk in her hands as the car swerved dangerously. She and Joey were wearing their seat belts, but she wasn’t sure the restraint would be enough to prevent them from being harmed. “Hang on, Joey!” she shouted as she fought to stay in control.

“Mom!” Joey screamed as the truck rammed into them again, and this time, she couldn’t prevent the car from slamming into the guardrail with a sickening lurch. She tried to ride against the rail, but the car spun out of control, doing a complete three-sixty before hitting the side rail again, thankfully on the driver’s side.

The impact caused the airbags to explode in their faces. Pain radiated through her face and chest. “Joey!” she shrieked, frantic to know her son was all right.

The car came to an abrupt halt, but the driver’s side door was bent inward to the point of pinning her left foot. She batted away the air bags as she frantically reached over for her son. “Joey? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, between hiccuping sobs. “I think so.”

Coughing as air bag dust filled her lungs, she tried again to get her foot out from the twisted hunk of metal. When that didn’t work, she reached over to help Joey get out of his seat belt. “I need you to get out of the car, Joey. Run away and get help. Find Detective Butler. Do you understand me? You need to get away from here and find Detective Nick Butler.”

“Not without you,” he cried.

“I’ll be right behind you,” she said, even though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to wrench herself free. “Now go. Hurry!”

Somehow, Joey managed to crawl out of the passenger-side window, which was completely busted open. She pulled, gritting her teeth against the pain as she tried to yank out her pinned foot.

Through the open window she saw Joey stagger a bit before he managed to pick up his pace enough to run. She heard the distant wailing of a police siren and hoped that was Nick, as she shifted in her seat again, determined to find a way to get free.

But then she saw a large man dressed completely in dark clothing, recognizing him as the driver of the big black truck that had caused her to crash. Through the glow of her headlights, she saw him take off running after her son. “No! Joey!” she screamed, ripping her foot out of her shoe, finally gaining freedom. “No!”

Too late. The tall stranger easily scooped up her son and dropped a black hood over Joey’s head before taking off with him thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Joey struggled against him, but the guy never hesitated, ignoring her son’s kicks and punches.

“No!” she wailed, scrambling to get out of the crushed car. She threw herself across to the passenger seat and wiggled her way through the broken window. “Stop! Joey!”

But the moment she fell from the window onto the paved road, the big black truck engine rumbled to life and pulled away, tires screeching, with her son trapped inside.

TWO

Nick slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator, racing to Rachel’s location, his heart pounding in his chest. Earlier that day, he hadn’t been entirely convinced her stalker was really someone from the Mafia. But the threats had been enough that he couldn’t bear to leave her totally on her own, so he’d followed Rachel to her son’s basketball game without telling her he was nearby.

Now he realized his instincts had been right on. The panic in her tone gripped him by the throat and he couldn’t help feeling that this was his fault for not doing more to keep her safe. He saw Rachel and Joey leaving the school after the game, but at that moment he’d taken a call from his boss, questioning why he’d taken on Rachel’s stalker case. He’d explained about the possible mob connection, which had eased his captain’s concern. But in the time it had taken him to placate his boss, Rachel and Joey had disappeared from sight.

His fault for not telling her he was there. And if something bad happened to Rachel and Joey, he’d never forgive himself. As he drove, he silently prayed for their well-being.

Please, Lord, keep Rachel and Joey safe in Your care. Amen.

The closer he got to the location she’d given him, the more his gut tightened with fear and worry. And when he saw her mangled car wedged against the guardrail, his stomach dropped. He was surprised to see there weren’t any police cars or ambulances at the scene. As he pulled over, Rachel was there, limping and crying, making her way down the road. He bolted from his car and ran toward her. “Rachel, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“He took Joey!” She grabbed his arm in a tight grip. “You have to do something! Right now!”

“Which way did they go?”

“N-north.”

“All right, let’s go.” He took her arm since she was shaking so badly he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stay upright. She managed to hang on long enough to climb into his car. He slid quickly into the driver’s seat.

As he drove he reached for the radio. “I have to call my boss, tell him to send a chopper. The truck will be easier to find from the air at night.”

“Wait! I have a text message.”

He froze, watching as she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her pink hoodie sweatshirt.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

“What is it?”

“Don’t call the police or I’ll kill him.” She lifted her tortured gaze to his. “I knew it! I knew the mob was after me. And now they’ve kidnapped Joey!”

Every instinct he possessed told him to radio for backup, but Rachel had grabbed his arm again, squeezing so tight he winced as her nails dug painfully into his skin. “We have to find him. We have to get to Joey!” she sobbed.

“Rachel, I know you’re scared, but let’s calm down and think this through. We need to get the helicopters to go after that black truck.”

“If that guy sees the police he’ll kill Joey. You don’t know how ruthless the Mafia can be. Please don’t do anything that will hurt my son. Please!” Her green eyes implored him to listen.

He pressed harder on the accelerator, going well above the speed limit. He wished a cop would try to pull him over, because then they’d have their badly needed backup.

“This is all my fault. They have Joey and it’s all my fault,” Rachel moaned.

He glanced over at her, wishing there was something he could say to make her feel better. But he knew only too well what it was like to lose a child.

“There!” Rachel’s excited shout drew him out of his depressing thoughts. “That’s the black truck that hit me.”

He couldn’t believe they’d found the black truck here, on the side of the road. But as they came closer, it was clear that the vehicle had been abandoned. Was it possibly a different truck? No, the damage to the front bumper convinced him they had the right vehicle. The passenger-side door was left hanging wide open, as if someone had grabbed Joey and taken off running without bothering to shut the door behind him.

He scanned the area, but there wasn’t much he could see in the darkness outside the glow from his headlights. He could tell that beyond the open cornfield was a subdivision full of houses, many of them twinkling with various holiday lights. The kidnapper could be anywhere. Either on foot or—if he wasn’t working alone—in another vehicle.

“Where are they? Where’s Joey?” Rachel barely waited for him to stop the car before she was out and racing over to see for herself.

He followed hot on her heels, ready to prevent her from disturbing any evidence. But he needn’t have worried.

She simply stood there, staring inside the empty truck, her eyes welling with tears. “They’re gone,” she whispered.

He curled his fingers into helpless fists, knowing there wasn’t any way to put a positive spin on this latest turn of events.

Joey was gone and Nick didn’t have a clue as to where he might be.

* * *

Rachel shivered, ice creeping slowly through her bloodstream like a glacier. She’d been so certain they’d find the black truck. Find Joey.

But her son was still missing.

“Come on, Rachel. I have to call my boss,” Nick urged, putting a hand beneath her elbow to nudge her away from the truck.

She didn’t move, couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the empty truck. Joey had been in there, with a hood over his face. She couldn’t bear to think of how frightened her son must be. “Hang in there, Joey,” she whispered, as if he could hear her. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Rachel, there’s nothing more we can do here. Not until we get a forensic team to go through the truck to pick up trace evidence.”

“No cops,” she said weakly, even though she knew it was too late. Nick was a cop and she’d called him right before the crash. And obviously they needed all the help they could get to find Joey. Her frozen brain cells finally put a few pieces of the puzzle together. “How did you get to me so quickly?” she asked with a frown.

He shrugged and ducked his head before he abruptly turned away, heading back to his vehicle. She forced her legs to follow him, wincing as she stepped on a stone with her foot that didn’t have a shoe.

“Wait,” she said, stopping him once again as he reached for the radio. “Can you call this incident in as a hit-and-run? Without mentioning Joey?”

“Rachel, you know that’s not smart,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I get that they have you running scared, but the more people searching for your son, the better.”

Logically, she could agree, but there was nothing logical about her feelings regarding the mob. And she was convinced that her husband’s uncle, Frankie Caruso, was the mastermind behind Joey’s kidnapping. “You don’t understand,” she said brokenly, wishing she could convince him. “If they get any sense that the police are involved there’s nothing to stop them from killing him.”

“Why would they kidnap your son in the first place?” he asked. “You have to admit, kidnapping is a huge leap from stalking.”

She drew her arms across her jacket, trying to maintain some warmth in the cold December night. Her left ankle throbbed, but she shoved the pain aside. No matter how much she hurt, she wouldn’t allow anything to stop her from finding her son. “Maybe the Mafia is looking for money from my company? Money that will help them rebuild their organization?”

“It’s possible, since the Mafia has taken several big hits lately,” Nick mused. “And you think they targeted you because of your marriage to Anthony?”

“Yes. Don’t you see? It all fits! My father’s money helped me escape Anthony all those years ago, so now they want me to pay them back. That’s basically what those threatening notes said, right?”

Grimacing, Nick nodded slowly. “I guess in a twisted way, that makes sense.”

She was dizzy with relief, knowing she’d finally managed to convince him of the Mafia link. “The mob fights dirty and plays for keeps,” she murmured. “If you call in reinforcements, the dirty cops might find out and let Joey’s captors know. I just can’t take that chance.”

“Not all cops are dirty, Rachel,” Nick said, a hard edge to his tone.

She sensed she was losing the battle. “During my brief marriage to Anthony, I knew of several Chicago cops who were on his payroll. None of them would lift a finger to help me. Can you honestly say that there isn’t the possibility of dirty cops still on the force?”

He scowled as he twisted the key in the ignition. “No, I can’t tell you that as much as I wish I could. I hate knowing that some of the very men and women who are supposed to put criminals away actually join forces with them, instead. Kidnapping is a federal offense, so we could call in the FBI.”

Fear tightened her chest to the point she felt she couldn’t breathe. “Are you sure there isn’t any possibility of someone linked to the Mafia working inside the FBI, too?”

Nick let the car idle as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “No, I can’t tell you that, either. Because there was a dirty FBI agent involved in a case I worked on last summer. We arrested him, but I always wondered if there weren’t others, too. Others that we missed.”

The thought of losing her son was making bile rise to her throat. “Please, Nick. All I’m asking for is a little time. Please keep Joey’s involvement out of this for now.”

He turned his head and stared at her for a long moment. “I’m going to at least let my boss know what’s going on. I know he’s not dirty and we need someone to trust.” She wanted to protest but knew that he had a job to do. Nodding stiffly, she dropped her hand from his arm so that he could call in a crime team to investigate the crash scene and the abandoned truck.

She didn’t relax a single muscle until he disconnected the call, without once mentioning Joey. Unfortunately, her relief was short-lived when Nick punched in another number.

“Hey, I think we have another link to the Mafia angle,” he said into the phone.

She strained to hear the other side of the conversation, which she assumed was with Nick’s boss. “Yeah? Like what?”

Her heart squeezed when Nick briefly explained what had transpired. “I’d like to keep this quiet for now, while we wait for some more evidence. If the Mafia is behind this, there isn’t much to stop them from doing something drastic if they sense we’re onto them.”

“I’m not sure I like that plan, Butler.” She could hear Nick’s boss’s weary tone. “The feds won’t be happy if we don’t follow protocol.”

“Yeah, but you and I both know that there have been far too many dirty cops, both locally and at the federal level. Just give me a little time to see what we can shake out, okay?”

“All right. But keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Nick hung up the phone and then put the car in gear.

“Thank you, Nick,” she murmured softly.

“Don’t thank me,” he said in a harsh tone. “We don’t have Joey back yet. And you need to know this may not turn out the way you want it to.”

“We’ll get him back.” She wasn’t even going to consider the possibility of failure.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I hope so, but you have to understand that we don’t have a lot of time. If we don’t hear from the kidnappers soon, I won’t give you a choice. We will call in the FBI.”

She wanted to argue, feeling deep down that calling in the FBI would be the worst thing they could do. After all, she knew from personal experience how the Mafia worked. The members of the mob were cruel and ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to kill her son just to prove their point.

The threatening notes she’d received were right. She had screamed in agony when they’d kidnapped her son. And if they demanded a ransom, she would repay her debts in order to get him back.

Panic bubbled in her throat and she had to swallow the urge to start screaming all over again. She needed to stay calm, to think this through logically, if she was going to have any chance in finding Joey.

After several long deep breaths, she felt somewhat calm. “You never did mention how you reached me so quickly,” she said, glancing over at Nick.

There was a long silence before he admitted, “I followed you and Joey. I guess I was hoping to catch the guy in the act of leaving another note for you.”

He’d been sitting in the parking lot of the elementary school? She tried to grapple with that revelation. “I didn’t see you,” she said. “And believe me, I was on alert, searching for signs of Frankie or one of his thugs.”

Nick shifted in his seat. “I stayed in my car, a little ways down the road, just close enough to watch your vehicle.”

She wasn’t sure that news was reassuring. If she hadn’t seen Nick, maybe she’d missed the driver of the black truck, too? She couldn’t bear the thought that she may have led the kidnapper straight to her son’s location.

More deep breaths helped rein in her fear. She tried to find comfort in the fact that Nick had cared enough to try to protect her, but the image of her son being kidnapped by the driver of the truck was seared in her mind.

Helplessly, she gazed down at her phone, looking at the text message again. Don’t call the police or I’ll kill him.

Why hadn’t they already demanded money? That had to be the reason they’d kidnapped Joey. Nothing else made sense.

“We should probably stay in a hotel tonight,” Nick said, breaking into her grim thoughts. “Especially because you received those threats at both your office and your home.”

She pressed her fingertips against her aching temples, trying to think. “I guess a motel would be okay.”

“It’s our best option. For now.”

She understood the warning implication in his tone. This was a temporary plan at best. She stared down at her cell phone for another long moment, willing the kidnapper to contact her again. The sooner they told her how much money they wanted, the sooner she could get her son back, safe and sound.

“Tell me what you know about Frankie Caruso,” Nick said quietly.

Her stomach twisted into painful knots. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. I only met him for the first time at our engagement party and then again at our wedding. I knew he’d raised Anthony after his parents died, but I didn’t know about their link to the Mafia. Not until after we were married.”

Nick glanced at her, and she wondered if he thought she was an idiot for not figuring out what was going on sooner. She’d often asked herself the same thing. She didn’t like to think about how naive she was back then. She graduated college early and by twenty-five had worked her way up in her father’s company to vice president. Hours of studying meant she hadn’t dated much. Anthony had swept her off her feet with his dashing good looks and his charm.

It was only after they were married for a few months that she caught a glimpse of his dark side. But by then she’d discovered she was pregnant and tried to make the marriage work.

Until she was on the receiving end of his violent temper.

“Has Frankie been living here in Chicago?” Nick pressed.

“Early on, he did, but after Anthony won his second term as state senator, Frankie moved down to Phoenix. Anthony told me that his uncle was tired of the brutal Chicago winters.”

“But you think Frankie’s back in the area?”

She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t kept track of Anthony’s uncle in the years since our divorce. I was lucky to get away from Anthony early in our marriage, shortly after Joey’s first birthday.” Two years of marriage that had seemed like a lifetime. “I suspect that since Anthony is dead, Frankie might have come back to take his place within the Mafia.”

“Rachel, there isn’t much of the Mafia left for him to return to,” he said. “I happen to know that Bernardo Salvatore and his right-hand man, Russo, are both dead.”

The news surprised her. “Really? How?”

He pressed his lips into a grim line. “I can’t go into details other than to tell you that I was there when they were killed. You have to consider there might be someone else besides Frankie Caruso after you.”

“I’m telling you there’s no one else I can think of,” she said, wishing he would believe her. “Besides, if Salvatore and this Russo guy are dead, then it makes even more sense to me that Frankie came back to Chicago. Clearly he wants to pick up the crime syndicate where Salvatore left off.”

“Maybe. I’ll try running a search on him,” Nick murmured. “It’s possible we’ll get lucky.”

She didn’t bother to tell Nick that she didn’t feel lucky. The thought of her son being held by the Mafia, alone and afraid, made fear clog her throat to the point she could barely breathe. Outside the passenger-side window, she stared at the holiday decorations lighting up people’s houses. Would Joey be back in time for Christmas? She couldn’t even imagine the possibility that he wouldn’t be.

Nick pulled up to a low-budget motel and secured two connecting rooms. She reluctantly took her room key from his hand, knowing she couldn’t relax, couldn’t rest.

Not until she found her son.

* * *

“Rachel?” She glanced up when she heard Nick call her name from the open doorway between their rooms.

“What is it?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing over to meet him in the doorway.

“Are you hungry?”

She grimaced and shook her head. “No.” The mere thought of food made her nauseous. “You mentioned doing a search on Frankie Caruso. Do you have a laptop with you?”

“Yeah, I have my laptop,” Nick replied. “So far, I haven’t found much.”

Frankie Caruso was too smart to leave an obvious trail. She kept her phone gripped in her hand, unable to bear the thought of losing the small link that she had with Joey’s kidnapper. She hated to think of what her son might be suffering through right now. Why hadn’t they contacted her again? What were they waiting for? “We have to keep searching. We have to find something!”

“Rachel, I know you’re upset, but there isn’t much more I can do. If we don’t hear something soon, we’ll have no choice but to pull in the FBI.”

“No. We can’t.” The very thought of bringing in the authorities nearly made her double over in pain. “Your boss promised us some time, right? I’m sure the kidnappers will contact me soon.”

“All right.” There was a hint of disappointment in his gaze. She told herself she didn’t care what Nick thought of her. He couldn’t possibly imagine what she was going through. Or what she’d already suffered at the hands of the Mafia. She’d lived with Anthony for two long terrible years and had learned early on that confronting the Mafia directly only made them angry.

She didn’t want the man who’d kidnapped Joey to take his anger out on her son.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Nick said over his shoulder. “Stay here and don’t let anyone in except for me.”

“Can I use your laptop while you’re gone?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

She waited for him in the doorway, gratefully taking the computer from his hands. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said huskily, and he closed the connecting door on his side.

She opened the computer and tried to think of what little she remembered from those early days with Anthony—the places he went, the people he considered friends. She’d purposefully pushed all those bad memories out of her mind after she escaped, so dredging them up again wasn’t easy.

Typing Frank Caruso’s name into the search engine didn’t bring up many hits. She tried using Luigi Gagliano’s name too, as he was a distant cousin to Anthony.

Still nothing. And as she stared blankly at the computer, a terrible thought occurred to her.

Here she was, waiting for Joey’s kidnappers to call with some sort of ransom demand, but what if she was on the wrong track? What if Frankie didn’t want her money, but simply wanted her son?

Frankie had raised Anthony, bringing him into the world of crime at a young age. Was it possible he wanted to use Joey as a surrogate for Anthony?

Was it possible that Frankie was, right now, driving far away with her son?

Rachel’s heart rate soared as she surged to her feet. Nick had been right! They should have called the police and the FBI right away! If Frankie had kidnapped Joey for personal reasons then he already had a head start on them.

She grabbed her phone, intending to call Nick, but then forced herself to stop and think. Why would Frankie send her threatening letters, saying she would repay her debts, if he didn’t want money?

Pacing the length of the small motel room helped calm her ragged nerves. Her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it. She’d never had a panic attack like this before, not even in the dark days after Anthony had beaten her. She had to stop overreacting to every thought. Every remote possibility.

Somehow she had to be smarter than Frankie Caruso or Luigi Gagliano.

She sat down at the small desk and clicked on the mouse to reactivate Nick’s computer. There was one angle she hadn’t considered, and that was Frankie’s ex-wife, Margie Caruso. Frankie and Margie had divorced the year Rachel was pregnant with Joey, but, surprisingly, they’d stayed on friendly terms. She’d often wondered if Margie had also been involved in illegal activities; otherwise, why wouldn’t Frankie have tried to silence his ex-wife? After all, Anthony had often threatened to kill Rachel if she ratted him out.

Anthony’s threats hadn’t been empty ones, either.

And if Margie was part of the Mafia, it wasn’t a stretch to think that she could be in cahoots with Frankie on this kidnapping scheme.

A quick search revealed that Margie was still living in the Chicago area. She wrote down the address, determined to convince Nick that they needed to pay the woman a surprise visit.

THREE

Nick couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel and Joey as he ran a few errands. He understood what Rachel was going through—he’d been inconsolable after his wife and daughter went missing, too. He knew he shouldn’t let his emotions get in the way of doing what was right, but seeing the pain etched on Rachel’s face was impossible to ignore.

After picking up some new clothes he’d put a call in to his FBI buddy, Logan Quail, only to find out his friend was out of the country on his honeymoon. No wonder Logan hadn’t returned his calls. The timing was unfortunate, since Logan’s expertise would have been perfect for Rachel’s situation.

But he’d just have to use another way to help Rachel find her son.

As he was picking up some fast food, his phone rang and he was surprised to discover that the caller was his boss, Ryan Walsh. “Hi, Captain.”

“Butler. We have some news from the crash scene you called in earlier.”

“You do?” He juggled the phone as he handed over cash and accepted the bag of food from the bored teen at the window. “What do you have?”

“We got a hit on one of the fingerprints. Perp’s name is Ricky Morales and he’s got a rap sheet, largely for drug busts, but, most recently, he was arrested for armed robbery. He just got out on bail about six months ago.”

Nick pulled away from the drive-through window and parked in the first open slot he saw. “Do you think Morales has found a home working as a thug for the Mafia?”

His boss grunted. “Don’t see why not. It’s a lead worth following since the truck is registered in his name, too. Explains why he dumped his ride as soon as he did. I’ll send his last-known address to you in an email. Where are you right now?”

“Getting something to eat.” Nick didn’t want to say too much. “We also have a possible suspect in Frankie Caruso, who happens to be Anthony Caruso’s uncle. Ms. Simon is convinced that Frankie is back to take over the Mafia.”

“What do you think?” Walsh asked.

“I think she could be right. You might want to see what you can find out about Caruso’s activities. In the meantime, we’ll start looking for leads related to Ricky Morales.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He could hear his boss scribbling notes. “Good work so far, Butler. Keep in touch.”

“I will.” Nick disconnected from the call and stared at his phone for a moment. He debated searching for Morales right now, but then decided he needed to get back to the motel. At least he had some positive news to give Rachel.

The drive didn’t take long. He grabbed the clothes and the bag of food, his mouth watering at the aroma of burgers and fries, and swiped his key card. The moment he closed the motel door behind him, he heard Rachel knocking on the connecting door.

“Coming,” he called as he reached for the door. He smiled at her. “Don’t argue, but I brought food for the both of us.”

“There’s no time to eat,” Rachel said in a rush. “Look what I’ve discovered.” She gestured to the computer screen. “Margie Caruso, Frankie’s ex-wife still lives outside of Chicago. We have to get over there right away.”

Her excitement was palpable. “Good news, but I have something to follow up on, too.” He pushed the laptop out of the way so he could haul the food out of the bag. “I’ll search while we eat.”

Rachel frowned, but he noticed she was staring at the burgers and fries as if her appetite may have returned. He bowed his head and gave a quick prayer of thanks. Rachel didn’t say anything, respecting his silent prayer, until he finished and dug into his food. “What are you following up on?” she asked.

“Sit down and eat,” he suggested.

She grimaced, but came over to sit beside him. As if she couldn’t help herself, she popped a French fry into her mouth. He waited until she surrendered to her inevitable hunger by unwrapping the second sandwich and taking a bite before telling her what his boss had uncovered.

“You think this Ricky Morales is the guy who kidnapped Joey?” she asked, her green eyes filled with hope. “I mean, that seems to be the most logical conclusion. And we should be able to find him, right?”

He nodded, even though he knew tracking Morales down wouldn’t be quite that easy. As he ate, he pulled up his email and jotted down the information his boss had sent. “Here’s his last-known address. It’s on the opposite side of town from Margie Caruso’s place.”

“It’s only eight-thirty...there’s plenty of time yet to head over to see what we can find. I need to keep busy, searching for Joey We have to find him as soon as possible!”

“We’ll check both addresses out tonight,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He shook his head, not wanting her gratitude. He was beginning to identify with Rachel on a personal level. Her fear tugged at his heart. He knew, only too well, what she was going through. Those hours his wife and daughter were missing had been the longest, darkest hours of his life. And when the news came in that they were both found dead in their mangled SUV at the bottom of a ravine, his grief had been overwhelming. Without his faith, he never would have survived the dark days following their deaths.

Grimly, he hoped and prayed that Rachel’s outcome would be different. Please, Lord, keep Joey safe in Your care and guide us in finding him. Amen.

* * *

Rachel pushed away her half-eaten sandwich and the remaining cold French fries, her patience wearing thin. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting here another minute. If she didn’t take some sort of action to help find her son, she’d go stark, raving mad.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, as Nick finished his meal. “I bought a dark sweatshirt for you, since that pink one is too easily seen at night, and a new pair of athletic shoes,” he said between bites. “Also hats and gloves. Why don’t you change while I finish up?”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, reaching down for the bag of clothes. The shoes were a welcome sight, and while she loved her pink sweatshirt, she realized Nick was right about how it stood out. The black sweatshirt beneath her jacket would blend far better with the night.

She disappeared into the bathroom and quickly changed. Her left ankle was swollen, but she managed to get that shoe on by loosening the laces. The pain in her foot was nothing compared to the gaping hole in her heart.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she was grateful to see that Nick had finished his meal, disposing of all the garbage in the trash can by the door. He’d pulled on the matching black sweatshirt, too, before zipping up his jacket. He shut down the computer and then turned to her. “Ready?” he asked, rising to his feet.

“Yes.” She was more than ready. She tucked her room key into her back pocket and followed Nick out to the car. Once she was buckled in, he set his phone in the cradle where he could easily read the GPS directions.

“Where are we going first?” she asked.

“Morales lives closer,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. “We’ll go there, first.”

She didn’t argue with his logic. Granted, it wasn’t likely that Morales would abandon his truck and take Joey to his home address listed on the registration, but, then again, criminals weren’t always known for being smart.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as Nick drove through the night. She tensed when she noticed they were heading straight into a seedy part of town. Her stomach roiled at the thought of Joey being kept in a place where he was likely to be assaulted, or worse even, if he managed to escape.

“There it is,” Nick murmured. “Second apartment building on the right.”

“Do we know which apartment might be his?” she asked, leaning forward to see better. The dilapidated building sure wasn’t comforting. “Do you really think he would have brought a kidnapping victim here to his place?”

“Doubtful, especially if he’s working for someone else,” Nick said. “I’m going to get out here to see if I can find out if he’s still living here. Slide into the driver’s seat and head around the block. This won’t take long.”

“All right.” As soon as Nick pulled over and climbed from the vehicle, she slipped over the console and adjusted the seat so she could drive. “Be careful,” she added before he shut the door.

He nodded and then pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head and hunched his shoulders as he loped across the street to the apartment building. As much as she wanted to watch, she forced herself to put the car in gear. At the end of the block was a stop sign and she turned right. There was a small group of tough-looking kids smoking cigarettes as they gathered at the street corner, beneath a streetlight where a small Christmas wreath was hanging. As she watched them she saw the gleam of silver. A knife? Or a gun? Several of them hid their hands in their pockets as she went past, giving her the distinct impression they were hiding something. Drugs? Maybe. Swallowing hard, she made sure the doors were locked before she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

As she came around the last corner to the street where Morales’s apartment building was located, her heart sank when she saw the group of teens had moved down closer to the apartment building. Had they noticed Nick getting out of the car and going inside? What if they planned to rob him when he came out? This was a bad neighborhood, where crime ran rampant. She knew Nick carried his service weapon, but the odds were still stacked against him, especially since all six of them were likely armed, too.

She was fumbling with her cell phone, intending to call Nick to warn him, when he slipped out of the apartment building and headed down the steps. Her heart hammered in her chest as the group of kids stepped forward, cutting him off.

Nick kept his hand in the pocket of his jacket and she assumed he had his gun ready. He sidestepped the kids, but they crowded closer and once again, she caught sight of a flash of silver.

Rachel unlocked the car and leaned on the horn. The group of kids swung around in surprise, and in that split second, Nick ran around them and jumped into the car. “Go!” he shouted as he slammed the door shut.

She stomped on the accelerator and the car leaped forward. In her rearview mirror she saw the group of kids begin running after them. Did they still intend to rob them? Or worse? As she approached the stop sign up ahead, she glanced frantically both ways before ignoring the sign and going straight through the intersection without stopping.

“Take it easy,” Nick said, putting a hand on her arm as she took another turn a little too fast. “They flashed a few knives and demanded money, but we’re safe now.”

She couldn’t speak, could barely calm her racing heart enough to take a deep breath. Her entire body was shaking in the aftermath of their close call.

“Pull over up ahead,” Nick instructed.

She knew he wanted to drive and couldn’t blame him. She did as he requested, trying to hold herself together. She dragged herself out of the driver’s seat as Nick came around to meet her. He lightly clasped her shoulders, peering down at her. From the streetlight behind her, she could see the concern etched on his handsome face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She tried to speak, but her throat felt frozen. It abruptly hit her how much she was depending on Nick to help find her son. If anything had happened to him, she’d be lost.

As much as she longed to lean against his strength, she forced herself to step back, putting distance between them. “I’m fine, but I was afraid they were going to hurt you,” she confessed softly.

“Me, too, and I didn’t really want to shoot any of them. Thanks to your quick thinking, I didn’t have to. Now let’s get going, okay?”

She nodded and went around to the passenger side of his car. “Did you find anything?” she asked, hoping the stop at the apartment building hadn’t been in vain.

“Yeah. Morales still has a place there, apartment number 210 according to the mailbox. I spoke to the manager, but he claims he hasn’t seen Ricky in weeks.”

She tried not to be too discouraged by the lack of information. Truthfully, he’d found out more than she’d hoped. “I guess that means he’s not likely keeping Joey there.”

“I doubt it. There are too many nosey people around, like those thugs back there.”

“I hardly think they’d be the types to turn Ricky in to the police,” she said with a sigh.

Nick didn’t say anything to the contrary, which only made her more depressed. “Are you still up for heading over to the ex-wife’s place?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes.” Granted she’d been terrified back there at the apartment building, but nothing was going to stop her from searching for Joey.

* * *

Nick glanced over at Rachel, marveling at the depth of her strength. Granted, she’d been scared to death back there at the apartment building, but that hadn’t stopped her from doing what needed to be done.

He used his radio to request a search on the Morales apartment related to the hit-and-run case. The dispatcher agreed to send a couple of uniforms over. He didn’t really think they’d find anything useful, especially since the manager had been all too willing to talk once he’d seen Nick’s badge.

If Morales had been around, the manager would have told him so.

The trip to Margie Caruso’s house took about twenty minutes. Her neighborhood was several steps up from where Morales lived. At least the houses were neat and clean for the most part, several decorated with Christmas lights.

The address indicated the house they were looking for was the third one on the right. Nick slowed down as he drove past the modest red brick home with the tan trim and black shutters. The entire place was dark, not a single light on inside the place that he could see.

“What do you think? Is anyone home?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know. It’s about nine-fifteen, so I suppose Margie could already be asleep....” But it wasn’t likely.

Maybe they were on the wrong track? Could be that Margie Caruso was living a normal peaceful life that had nothing to do with the Mafia or kidnapping Rachel’s son.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, keeping the house in sight as he drove by.

“Don’t have one yet. It’s not as if we can simply walk up and demand to search the place, even if someone answers the door.”

“Why not? I could try talking to her,” Rachel said impulsively. “We’re both ex-Carusos and I can use that connection to feel her out.”

He wasn’t sure he liked the idea, but couldn’t come up with anything better so he reluctantly nodded. “All right. I’ll park on the street, in front of the neighbor’s house. If anything seems off, you need to get out of there right away.”

“I will.” She hesitated for a moment before reaching for the door handle. Extremely bright lights bloomed in his rearview mirror as a car headed straight for them.

“Wait!” Nick shouted, reaching out to grab her arm. She paused, half in and half out of the car, so he yanked her back inside at the same time gunfire echoed through the night.

FOUR

“Get down!” he yelled, stomping on the gas and peeling away from the curb. He kept a hold on Rachel while she managed to get her legs tucked inside the car. He let go long enough to take a sharp right-hand turn, which caused the half-open passenger-side door to slam shut.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asked.

“Stay down,” he barked. Glancing at the rearview mirror, he could see the vehicle was keeping pace behind them. He could tell by the high yet narrow set to the headlights that it was a Jeep.

He had to figure out a way to lose it and fast.

“Why is he shooting at us?” Rachel gasped, her eyes wide with fear.

He shook his head, unable to answer as he concentrated on losing the gunman. He took several more turns, dodging around various vehicles in his way. Thankfully, traffic was relatively light this far outside the city, or escaping the shooter would have been impossible.

When there was a gap in traffic, he jerked the steering wheel to the left, taking the car up and over the curb, making an illegal U-turn. It wasn’t easy keeping his eyes on the road while watching the Jeep behind him. The other car didn’t make the turn right away, which was reassuring.

He immediately took another right-hand turn, putting even more distance between them. When he found an on-ramp for the interstate, he took it and pushed the speed limit as hard as he dared until he found the next exit. On that road, he switched directions, heading left.

Fifteen minutes later, he was convinced he’d lost the Jeep. “Are you all right?” he asked, as Rachel eased upright and reached for her seat belt. “He didn’t hit you, did he?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, patting her arms and legs as if she wasn’t entirely sure. “Did you get the license plate number? Do you think that was Joey’s kidnapper?”

“I didn’t get the plate number because I was blinded by his high-beam lights.” He tried to figure out what had just happened. The whole event was weird. “Don’t you think it’s odd that he took a shot at us, but didn’t keep firing? And that he didn’t target anything important?”

“What do you mean nothing important? He almost hit us!” Rachel protested.

“Not even close,” he argued mildly. “We were practically sitting ducks and he didn’t hit either of us, or any significant parts of the car, like the gas tank or wheels. It’s almost as if he wanted to scare us more than kill us.”

“So it must have been Joey’s kidnapper!” Rachel’s tone had a note of excitement. “He didn’t want to kill us, because he still wants the money.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, although the scenario didn’t quite feel right. This entire case wasn’t like anything he’d experienced before. He knew crooks, had investigated them for years and they always had a reason for what they did.

Only this time, nothing made sense.

He took the next exit off the freeway, slowing his speed to the posted limit.

“We have to go back there,” Rachel said urgently, interrupting his train of thought. “To see if we can find Joey. We must have been close if they were so desperate to scare us away.”

“Rachel, calm down for a minute and think this through. How did they find us outside of Margie Caruso’s house in the first place? I made sure no one followed us when we left Morales’s apartment building.”

“I don’t know, maybe it was all just a big coincidence? Morales could be working for Margie Caruso, and maybe he just pulled up as we got there.”

“I don’t think so.” Nick hated to burst her bubble, but she wasn’t thinking rationally. He pulled off onto the side of the road and turned in his seat to face her. “Even if he saw us there, how could he know we were the ones in the car?”

“Maybe he recognized your car from the crash site?”

“I came in from the south and you said he went north,” he reminded her gently. “Rachel, they have your cell phone number. They sent you a text, threatening to kill Joey if you called the police. Don’t you see? The only thing that makes sense is that they’ve tracked us through the GPS in your cell phone.”

* * *

Rachel swallowed hard as she stared down at her cell phone. Was Nick right? Had they really tracked them through her phone? She wasn’t a techno-geek so she had no clue how to even do something like that.

But she knew the possibility existed.

And if Nick’s hunch was correct, then Joey’s kidnapper already knew she wasn’t alone.

Fear swelled in her throat, choking her as tiny red dots swam before her eyes.

“Breathe,” Nick commanded, giving her shoulder a shake.

She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath. She took a shaky gasp of air and lifted her tortured gaze to his. “They’re always going to know where we are, aren’t they? We’re never going to be able to escape.”

“Not unless we ditch your phone,” he said grimly.

She clenched the phone so hard she was surprised she didn’t break it in half. “No. No way. This is the only connection I have to Joey. This is the number they’re going to use in order to contact me for the ransom demand. I’m not giving it up, Nick. I’m not! I can’t!”

He stared at her for a long moment before releasing a heavy sigh. “Okay, if you’re not getting rid of it, then we need to figure out our next steps. Because the kidnappers are going to be able to find us, no matter what we do or where we go.”

“What if we buy a new phone, but keep the same number?” she asked suddenly. “Wouldn’t that work? I mean, the GPS is linked to the device, not to the actual phone number...right?”

Perking up, Nick flashed her a smile. “You’re brilliant, Rachel. That’s exactly right. Now we have options.”

“Do you think the stores are still open?” she asked.

“There are plenty of twenty-four-hour superstores. Here, use my smartphone to find the nearest one....”

“Okay.” She took the phone and used the search engine to find the closest superstore. “There’s one about seven miles away,” she told him.

“Perfect.”

They arrived at the superstore and quickly made their way over to the electronics section. She stayed back as Nick purchased the phone, along with a car charger, explaining to the clerk how they wanted to keep the same number.

“We can do that,” the clerk said. “But it can sometimes take up to twelve hours to get the number transferred over.”

“Twelve hours?” she echoed in shock.

The clerk shrugged. “It might be quicker, but I can’t say for sure when.”

Nick’s expression was grim but he purchased the new phone and car charger, paying for a full year so that there wasn’t any way to trace the contract fee. He gave her the phone and she stared down at it.

Twelve hours. She had to hang on to her old phone and evade the kidnappers for the next twelve hours.

And they were no closer to finding Joey.

She wanted to scream in frustration but forced herself to take several deep breaths to fight off her rising panic instead. She had to believe the kidnappers would keep Joey alive in order to get the payout. They had to.

She followed Nick to the car. When he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, back onto the road, she plugged the new phone into the charger and then glanced at him. “Where are we going?”

He shrugged. “I think it’s better to stay in the car and keep moving for now. We’d only be sitting ducks in a motel.”

She couldn’t argue his logic. “Would you be willing to split up so one of us could go and check out Margie’s house? I need to know for sure Joey’s not in there.”

Nick was silent for so long she thought he was ignoring her. “Rachel, you’re not a cop...so no, I’m not willing to split up. Let’s just worry about staying alive tonight, okay? Unless you’re having second thoughts about going to the FBI?”

She shivered. “No, I’m not having second thoughts. I heard what you told your boss about dirty cops at the local and federal level. I can’t risk losing my son, Nick. I just can’t.”

He sighed. “I know what I said, but I can’t help wondering if God isn’t trying to tell us something the way these obstacles keep getting thrown in our way.”

She was a little uncomfortable by his reference to God, but just the thought of calling in the police made her sick. “Your boss is willing to give us some time, so why are you still pushing the authorities on me?” When he opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand. “I trust you, Nick, and I don’t have much choice but to trust your boss, too. But I can’t take the chance of trusting the wrong person. It could end up costing my little boy his life.”

Truthfully, it was hard enough to trust Nick. But the fact that he’d been so angry with her for not giving him details about Anthony’s involvement with the Mafia a year ago had gone a long way in convincing her that he was one of the good guys.

However, that didn’t mean she wanted to open the circle of trust to include anyone else. Not unless there was no other choice.

Nick pulled into a mall parking lot, and she wasn’t surprised when he positioned the car in a way that they’d be able to escape in a hurry if need be. She shivered a little, burying her face in the collar of the dark sweatshirt beneath her jacket. Her jean-clad legs were cold, and she rubbed her hands on her thighs to try and warm up.

“I have a blanket in the trunk,” Nick said gruffly, before sliding out of the driver’s seat. He returned a few minutes later with a wool blanket. “Why don’t you stretch out in the backseat?”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she protested. “Besides, we should take turns keeping watch.”

“I’ll keep watch first while you try to get some rest.” His tone indicated there was no point in arguing.

Resigned, she opened the passenger door, pausing for a moment as she realized there was a bullet hole near the bottom of the window. The reminder of being used for target practice made her shiver again. Clutching the blanket, she climbed into the backseat and huddled down, grateful for the added warmth from Nick’s blanket. She vowed to give him the blanket when it was her turn to keep watch.

The backseat was hardly comfortable, but that wasn’t the reason she couldn’t sleep. Images of Joey kept flashing through her mind, haunting her to the point where she almost couldn’t stand it another moment.

“Nick?” she said softly, breaking the silence. “You don’t think the kidnappers will hurt Joey, do you?”

“Try not to torture yourself thinking the worst, Rachel.”

“I’m not trying to torture myself, but every time I close my eyes I picture that man grabbing Joey and slinging him over his shoulder. Don’t you see? I’m the one who told Joey to get out of the car and run. It’s my fault he was kidnapped.”

There was a long pause, then Nick said, “Rachel, it’s not your fault. I’m sure he would have gotten Joey even if you hadn’t told him to run.”

“Stop trying to placate me,” she said sharply.

There was another brief silence. “Look, Rachel, I don’t know if you believe in God, but if you do, praying can help you get through this.”

She remembered how Nick had prayed before eating their fast-food dinner. Maybe he believed but she wasn’t sure she did. “My parents weren’t very religious. When I was growing up the only time we went to church was at Christmas and Easter.” She hadn’t thought about church or God in a long time. “I’m not sure I believe there really is a God, or that He cares anything about me or Joey.”

“There is.” Nick’s voice exuded confidence. “And He does care about you and Joey. If you keep an open mind and an open heart, you’ll be rewarded.”

“Rewarded?” She couldn’t hide the sarcasm in her tone. “I hardly think having my son kidnapped is anything close to rewarding.”

“You’re twisting my words, Rachel,” he said quietly. “I meant that God can help you through difficult times.”

“There’s nothing more difficult than having your child in danger.” She fought the rising anger. Who was he to preach to her at a time like this? Her son was missing and he wanted her to pray?

“I do know a little about what you’re going through, Rachel. Two years ago, I lost my wife and my daughter in a terrible car crash. I nearly went crazy during the hours they were missing, before they were found dead in the bottom of a ravine. And trust me, I wouldn’t have made it through those dark days without God’s strength and the power of prayer.”

His blunt statement surprised her and caused her to feel ashamed. Why was she taking her anger out on Nick? None of this was his fault. Clearly, he knew what it was like to lose someone he loved. Losing his wife and a daughter had to have been horrible. But prayer? She wasn’t sure she was buying that idea.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed, if ever. And she wasn’t sure that prayer alone would make her feel better about losing her son.

She wouldn’t survive if Joey died. Everything inside her would die right along with him.

“I’ve been praying for Joey’s safety,” Nick went on in a low voice. “And I want you to know, I’ll keep on praying for Joey and for you.”

Tears pricked her eyes and her throat swelled, making it hard to speak. Knowing that he would pray for her son brought a surprising level of comfort. And she suddenly realized that he was right. She did need to keep an open mind. Because if Nick’s prayers could really help, she would gladly take them. She would take anything she could get if it meant keeping Joey safe.

She cleared her throat, trying to hide the evidence of her tears. “Thank you, Nick. And I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t know you lost your wife and daughter. I guess you really do know what I’m going through.”

“For a long time I wanted to join them up in heaven,” he admitted. “But God chose another path for me, so I’ve decided to dedicate my life to putting bad guys away and leading a Christian life, until God calls me home to be with my family.”

She wasn’t sure what to say in response to that, since truthfully, his plan sounded a bit lonely. Although who was she to argue about being alone? She wasn’t interested in having a relationship again, either, especially not while she was raising her son. She was too afraid to trust her instincts about men after the way she’d messed up with Anthony.

Was Nick subtly warning her that he wasn’t interested in being anything more than friends? If so, she was happy to oblige.

Right now, she didn’t care about anything except getting her son back safe and sound.

As the minutes passed slowly, she stared out through the car window at the stars scattered across the night sky. And suddenly, she found herself uttering a simple prayer to a God she wasn’t even sure existed.

Please keep my son safe.

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