Dangerous Desert Abduction, page 2
Abigail pressed her hand to her mouth as he spoke, relaying the details to his friend. “Four-door sedan. I think it was a Lincoln Town Car, dark blue or black. I didn’t get the plates.”
“I know who took him,” she interrupted.
Who? Micah mouthed. Then into the phone, he said, “Hold on a sec, there’s more.”
“David Blakely, from Chicago. There was the other man too, the one with the red ball cap, but I don’t know him. His name is Vincenzo.”
Micah nodded, then passed the information on to Brian. After he ended the call, he turned to her.
“That’s enough to issue the Amber Alert. He wants us to come down to the precinct so he can get more information from you.”
She nodded, her gaze blank as he pointed at his blue sedan farther up the lot. “That’s my car. Are you okay to drive? Can you follow me?”
His cell phone buzzed at the same second hers did from inside the leather handbag in the nearby shopping cart. She rushed for it, digging it out, then clutched the cart to keep her balance.
He glanced down at the notification.
Amber Alert: Rapid City area.
Good. Hopefully someone would see the car and get back to the police within minutes.
The city streets were mostly empty as he led Abigail to the police department. The front desk officer, who had returned, directed the two of them to Brian’s cubicle in the detectives’ office.
Brian shook his hand and offered Abigail a seat and a steaming cup of coffee. It didn’t take long to go over what had happened. She sat still as a statue through the conversation, the only motion the soft rubbing of her fingers. Particularly, the empty ring finger on her left hand.
“Is there any more information you can give us?” Brian asked. “Any reason why David might have wanted to take Owen?”
She drew in a shuddering breath, and Micah leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Maybe now he’d learn why she was here in South Dakota.
“My husband died four weeks ago,” she murmured. Her shoulders curled and she stared at her hands. That explained the pale band around her finger instead of a ring. Poor woman—newly widowed, and now her son taken. He grimaced. Wasn’t that the way relationships always ended? In heartbreak?
He and Brian listened as she poured out her story, sharing how her accountant husband appeared to have taken his own life—though she thought he’d been killed—and the police suspicions he’d been involved with an organized crime syndicate, maybe even the Chicago Outfit. The mafia was no laughing matter. She seemed to grow smaller with each passing minute, sinking deeper inside herself.
“What about this man, David Blakely? How is he involved?” Brian asked.
“He’s a family friend. Owen calls him ‘Uncle’ David.” A shiver rippled through her shoulders. “He and Eric studied accounting together in business school, though they worked for different companies. He must be connected with this crime group somehow.” She sucked on her upper lip. “I had no idea.” Her voice dropped out.
Anger flared in Micah’s chest at the mess this unknown husband had created for his wife. But he needed to focus on the most pressing matter—getting Owen back. “Why would David want Owen? Did he say anything to you?”
She nodded, sniffling softly, and Brian handed her a tissue. “Eric mailed me a letter the morning he died. The mailroom lost it, so it just arrived last week. He apologized, told me I had the chance to make things right. He said he’d made me the trustee of a safe deposit box. All I can think is that it must contain evidence the police could use against the ringleaders of the mob, and somehow the mob figured it out too. They think I already found the files when I went to the bank to get cash before Owen and I left, but I don’t even know where this box is.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth as she shook her head. “Eric never mentioned it to me before, and the letter doesn’t say. I checked every bank we’ve ever had accounts with.” She turned imploring eyes on them, as if begging for help. When she spoke again, her voice shook. “David said this is my last chance. If I don’t bring him the files tomorrow...”
She tucked her chin to her chest. When her shoulders started to shake, Micah’s heart ached for her.
“This is actually a good thing, Ms. Fox,” Brian said reassuringly. “It’s always better if the kidnappers want something from you, because then it’s not about the child. Hopefully, someone will respond to the Amber Alert any minute, but if not, we know David will get in touch with you. When he does, we’ll find out where Owen is. We’re going to get your son back, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Abigail’s eyes were red from crying, but she nodded.
Brian took down her contact information, including the address of her rental home. In Interior, of all places—a street over from where Micah lived. God’s hand at work in difficult circumstances, the same way He’d placed him in that store lot at the exact moment his help was needed.
“Let me escort you home,” Micah offered as they rose after the interview. “I’m heading to Interior too.”
She sniffled. Then took a shuddering breath like it was hard to speak. “Thank you. But don’t you have a family to get back to?”
Nope. If there was one thing life had taught him, it was that relationships didn’t last. He’d watched the same tragedy play out on repeat, first with his own parents, then for high school and college friends. And when he’d finally met a woman he was willing to risk his own heart for, all he’d gotten was burned.
Taylor had played guitar in the worship band at the little church he attended in Utah when he was stationed out in Arches. She’d caught his eye immediately with her enthusiasm for life, even though she was five years younger. Trouble was, that youthful passion pulled her off to whatever exciting new thing was happening...including the next man.
“No,” he told Abigail. “I’m single. It’s easier that way with the job.”
“Okay.” She released a long, defeated sigh. “But I hate imposing on you like this.”
“Don’t mention it. We’ll do everything in our power to get your son back.”
An hour later, he pulled to a stop on the street in front of her rental home while she parked in the driveway. She rummaged in her purse for the key and unlocked the front door.
The inside of the place was about what he expected—furnished with a bare-bones living room set and small dining table, old appliances, peeling linoleum on the floor. Not comfortable, but usable. Abigail barely seemed to notice her surroundings as they made trips to the car, carrying in groceries and bags from the trunk. By the time they were done, it’d been over two hours since the Amber Alert went out, which made it nearly midnight. She kept glancing at her phone, making sure the volume was on.
“Any news from the police?” she asked.
He hated that he had to shake his head.
“You should go home, take care of your groceries. I’ll just...put some things away. Try to sleep.” She picked up a stuffed lion lying on the couch, squeezing it to her chest.
He held out his hands, not exactly sure what he intended to do, and to his surprise she stepped into his arms and rested her forehead against his shirt. She smelled like raspberries and tears, and her shoulders shook as she wept. Awkwardly, he patted her back. Poor woman had experienced nothing but loss and fear for who knew how many weeks. Maybe longer, given the way she’d described her marriage slowly decaying. She needed a dose of comfort, enough to accept it from a virtual stranger.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled back, wiping her cheeks. “I just... I can’t stand the thought of him not being here. I feel like I’ve let him down. Like I f-failed him.” A fresh convulsion of sobs racked her body, but she stayed back from him.
“Abigail, it’s okay. You’ve gone through the wringer this evening. You’re allowed to cry.”
“Thank you.” She rubbed her hands on her pants to dry them. “I’ll be okay. What about you? Your food is probably rotting in the car by now.”
He’d given up on his fresh produce hours ago, but if she wanted some space, he’d give it to her. No matter how much he disliked leaving her alone.
“You’ve got my number in your contacts,” he said as he headed for the door. “And I live a block down on D Street. I can get over here in a flash if you need anything.”
As she pulled open the door for him, her phone pinged. Abigail’s eyes widened as she pulled it from her pocket.
She stared at the text as he waited impatiently, then held it up for him to read.
Delta Launch Facility, 6 a.m. tomorrow. No cops. Come alone with the files, or... Last chance, Abby.
TWO
Those last words burned into Abigail’s retinas until her eyes blurred with tears. Last chance, Abby. She didn’t need any help figuring out exactly what David meant.
She blinked rapidly as she glanced up at Micah. “I don’t have the files. What do I do?”
He already had his phone out. “I’m calling Brian.”
“But he said no cops.” Her throat tightened. “What if...?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.
“Brian will contact the county sheriff and have units on standby. I’ll notify them when we’re ready for backup. David won’t know. Or, more realistically, he’ll expect you to contact the police, but he wants those files badly enough he’s going to run the risk.” His presence and tone emanated strength and confidence, and she soaked it up like a flower in sunlight. “And he won’t know you don’t have the files until we get there. Top priority is to make sure Owen’s safe. Then we negotiate while we wait for backup.”
“Should I go alone?” A tremor rippled up her spine. She’d do it for Owen, no matter how terrifying.
Micah finished tapping out a text on his phone. “No way. You don’t know the area, and since he wants those files, he’ll hear you out.”
“What if something happens to Owen? What if...what if they...?” She fisted her hands, scraping her palms with her nails. The room blurred.
“Trust me, Abigail. We will do everything in our power to protect your son.” He stared at his phone for a moment, then looked up at her. “Brian’s got everything in hand on his end. I will see you bright and early at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow. Will you be all right?”
His blue eyes searched her face, and she nodded. As much as she hated the thought of the long, sleepless hours ahead, she couldn’t ask him to stay. Wouldn’t. He’d already been generous enough with his time, and she’d just met the man.
After he left, she closed and locked the front door, sending a cry heavenward even though it might go unheard. God, please protect Owen. Help us get him back safely. She went through the motions of unpacking until exhaustion carried her into an uneasy doze on the hard rental sofa. Before she knew it, knocking at the door snapped her back to reality.
The rising sun had already crested the horizon, chasing away the last hints of pink and purple from the scattered clouds in the west, as she opened the door for Micah. One look at the dark half-moons under his eyes told her he’d slept as fitfully as she had. Today, though, instead of church clothes, he wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that left no doubt he spent plenty of time working out. A shoulder holster strapped across his back held a gun, giving her a little extra reassurance. Between his help and the police backup, surely they’d get Owen back.
The thought of hugging her little boy filled her with a sense of longing so sharp it made her eyes burn. How she missed his laundry-soap scent, the rhythmic sound of him sucking his thumb, his big brown eyes staring up at her. The funny things he said. One look at Owen was enough to convince her that every minute of her marriage had been worth it.
The brief tap of Micah’s fingers on her arm snapped her back to the moment. “Hey, are you ready?”
She let out a slow breath and nodded, even though her heart raced like a car on the interstate. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“Owen is in the Lord’s hands, and so are we.” He gazed steadily at her. “I don’t know if you’re a person of faith, but I do know this—He’ll never leave us or forsake us. We can trust His promises.”
His words soothed the dry, brittle place deep inside her. Was that how she had felt once, long ago? Before her marriage and life circumstances had slowly ground away any hope that God cared?
“I...haven’t exactly been on the best terms with God lately. But thank you.” She turned away to grab her purse and keys before he could see the tears forming in her eyes. “We should take my car. It has the car seat.” She’d buckled Owen into that seat more times than she could count. Please, God, let me do it again. The prayer was probably floating up to heaven to sit in the queue with everyone else’s, but she couldn’t help it. Not with Owen’s life on the line.
“Want me to drive?” He stopped in front of her SUV.
She tossed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat, aware yet again of how much she was relying on this near-total stranger. But he knew the area and the roads, so didn’t it make sense to accept his help? Once she had Owen back, she’d figure out her next steps. Somewhere else to run where they could start fresh. She couldn’t go to her parents—they’d gladly help, but they were older with health issues, and she couldn’t involve them in this mess. Maybe her sister out in Wyoming, though... Eleanor would keep Owen safe, and Abigail could come back for him once she’d convinced these criminals she didn’t have what they wanted.
The thought hurt, but Owen’s well-being was what mattered most. And right now, he was in jeopardy.
Micah started the engine and backed the car out of the driveway. “The Delta Launch Facility is part of the Minuteman Missile system. It housed nuclear missiles during the Cold War, but now the sites are part of the national park system. North through Badlands and up to the interstate. It’ll take us just under half an hour.”
Ahead of them, the white, barren ridges of the Badlands jutted out of the prairie like the remnants of a child’s sandcastle. To the east, the sun burned like a glowing orange ball against bright blue sky, promising a scorching summer day. Her heart twisted as she thought of Owen—how worried he must be. She squeezed his stuffed lion a little tighter where she clutched it in her lap.
Micah slowed the car as they approached the entrance gate to the national park, but no one was on duty yet. The landscape shifted as they climbed into the park—colorful rock spires and giant buttes loomed close to the car on either side, layers of sediment stacked in strange formations. She’d never seen anything like it. Owen would love it. If...
She gnawed the inside of her cheek. Don’t go there. She forced her attention to Micah. “How long have you worked here?”
“Two years, heading into my third. I was out at Arches in Utah before this, so I’m used to the desert. Grew up down in Fort Collins. My father still lives there.”
“Where does your mom live?” The question popped out before she realized it might not be safe to ask. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
He shook his head, flashing her a reassuring smile. “No, it’s okay.” He cleared his throat. “She left when I was little. For a long time, I thought it was my dad’s fault, but kids aren’t always the best judges of adult problems. He and I are good now.”
“Do you ever hear from her?”
“Nope. She passed soon after she left.” He said it casually, but from the way his jaw clenched, the wound must’ve cut deep. How awful.
But at the look on her face, he shook his head. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me. That was a long time ago—” emphasis on the word long “—and you’ve got enough on your plate. Unless I’m helping distract you. Then it’s okay.”
“Thanks, Micah. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. For us.” He was remarkably generous with his time and resources. Sure, he was in law enforcement. Maybe you could say it was his job to help. But the police hadn’t offered to escort her home last night. There was nothing in it for him.
“You know,” he replied, “there’s something about helping other people that makes me feel good. Like I’m living out God’s calling in my life. Probably why I wanted to go into the park service. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, it does. I feel that way too when I’m with my son.” His absence pummeled her stomach again, and she crushed the stuffed lion against her chest as if it could keep her from cracking apart. “Before Owen was born, I worked as a preschool teacher. Kids at that age are so fun.”
He slowed the car, taking a looping on-ramp onto the interstate. The rugged terrain of the Badlands had been replaced by grass-covered plains. She pointed at a building that flashed past on the right.
“Wait, didn’t that say Minuteman...?”
“That was the Visitor Center,” Micah said. “We want the Launch Facility a few miles down.”
She leaned forward in her seat, straining to see ahead as the miles of empty grassland rolled past. A few minutes later, a small, squat building surrounded by a chain-link fence came into view, some distance from the interstate.
Micah threw on his blinker and slowed the SUV as they approached the exit, then headed north on the narrow county road toward the building. Only one vehicle was in the parking lot—the same black Lincoln Town Car from last night, idling at the far end, its passenger side door ajar.
Her heart lodged in her throat. On the other side of the vehicle, a little blond boy she’d recognize among a thousand stood near a park service placard, poking at something on the sign. Owen. Thank You, God. David crouched next to him, the picture of a man who was a trusted family friend, not a traitor.
Micah pulled into a space farther down the lot, and Abigail had her door open when he put his hand on her arm. “Remember what we talked about. Right now, David wants you alive because he thinks you have what he wants. You can’t let him think otherwise, or he might decide there’s a better way to tie up loose ends. Your goal is to string him along until Owen is safe, and then I’ll signal the police. Okay?”
