Dangerous Desert Abduction, page 4
They were resting comfortably in one of the small rooms off the ER, Owen curled up beside her in the stiff hospital bed, when Micah returned with Detective Overton.
“Glad to see you back with your son.” The detective smiled warmly as he took a seat next to the hospital bed. “This won’t take too long—I just need to get your testimony, and Owen’s too, if he’s willing to talk about what happened. Otherwise, we can wait until tomorrow.”
“Let’s try now,” she said, tracing a finger gently across Owen’s cheek. Better to get this over with and get him home. He’d been through enough already, and once he was asleep and she was alone, she’d be able to come up with some sort of plan to get them away from here. Maybe Detective Overton could help her escape the mob, but after her experience with the Chicago police, she knew better than to leave her and Owen’s safety entirely up to the authorities. No, she needed to think for herself.
Their lives depended on it.
* * *
Hearing Owen’s testimony was almost harder than listening to Abigail’s. Micah leaned against the wall of the small room, his fingers scratching absently at the short bristly hair of his beard. The little boy was groggy when she first woke him up, but soon he launched into a retelling of what had happened, complete with all the things a child notices—how he woke up in the morning in “Uncle David’s” car but there wasn’t a car seat, the hash browns and ketchup he had for breakfast, and ending with the caterpillar he’d found on a sign in the parking lot and Mommy, could we keep it as a pet?
Kids had an amazing level of resilience. But so did Abigail, it seemed. She’d weathered some horrible things in the preceding months, and she wasn’t done yet. Every minute with her made him more determined to help her and make sure she and Owen were safe.
But realistically, protecting and helping her was Brian’s job, not his. In fact, as Brian explained to her, anything outside of Rapid City wasn’t even his jurisdiction—instead, he’d be coordinating with Sheriff Dan Layton on the case.
And Micah? He was a park ranger. Maybe in law enforcement, yes, but not a cop, and this situation definitely didn’t count as national park business. Still, there was only so much anyone could officially do, and if she’d let him, he wanted to help pick up the slack.
A few hours later, Abigail and Owen were discharged from the hospital. At Brian’s recommendation, they stopped by a local store and picked up a burner phone for Abigail in case the mob was tracking her other device. Then Micah drove them back to Interior. By the time they reached her rental an hour away, both she and Owen were out cold despite it being midday. The fact she felt safe enough to fall asleep warmed his chest. He sat for a moment, letting the car idle in the driveway and listening to the soft sound of Owen sucking his thumb.
Was this what it would’ve been like to have a family of his own? Even watching Abigail’s relationship with Owen made a place inside his chest ache. Had his mother ever felt that way about him? Like she’d move heaven and earth to get back to him?
He sincerely doubted it, not with the way she’d abandoned him when he was eight. Just packed up and left without a word, like he was an extra clothes hanger she didn’t need to take. Not worth her time or effort. Had she ever regretted that choice? Or had death claimed her before she had the chance?
And what about Owen, who would grow up without a father?
He cut the engine and gently shook Abigail’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re back. Let’s get you and Owen inside.”
As he escorted her to the door, his phone pinged with a text notification from Brian.
Suspects abandoned the vehicle in Wall and escaped on foot. Search is ongoing. Layton is sending a patrol car to watch Abigail’s home, ETA 15.
He glanced up at Abigail, his stomach slipping toward his knees. “I’m sorry, Abigail. David got away.”
Her knuckles whitened against Owen’s back, and she kissed the top of his head where it rested against her shoulder. “What do I do now?” She glanced both ways up the street, as if she expected David or Vincenzo to materialize again any second.
He gritted his teeth. No one should have to live in this kind of fear. “Sheriff Layton has a patrol car coming to keep watch. The officer should be here in fifteen minutes. I’ll stay until they arrive, but then I’ve got to check in at work.” He’d called in earlier when it’d become obvious that he wouldn’t make his 9:00 a.m. shift at Ben Reifel Visitor Center. Yet unless he wanted to use up a vacation day, they’d expect him to appear eventually. Especially considering Abigail was not family and her situation was not under his jurisdiction.
Once the patrol car arrived, he exchanged a quick word with the officer and told Abigail goodbye, promising to check on her later. Leaving her and Owen alone was harder than it should’ve been, but she’d assured him she’d be fine. Forty-five minutes later, he’d changed into his uniform and made it to his desk, but he couldn’t shake a lingering sense of unease at leaving her.
Not my business. What was his business was this growing stack of paperwork he needed to process, along with assisting in planning the prairie burn scheduled for next week and investigating a mule deer poaching report that had come in that morning. Normally he loved his job, but now the hours dragged by slower than a paleontology dig.
The next two days were more of the same—going about his day-to-day work, periodically checking in with Abigail, finding that she was doing fine without him.
Maybe it was time to accept that Sheriff Layton and Brian had things well in hand, and he could stop worrying.
He couldn’t let himself get attached...like he had with Taylor. He hadn’t learned she was dating another man at the same time until after he’d proposed.
The pain and humiliation of that moment, the pity on her face as she’d said, “I’m so sorry, Micah, I thought you knew I wasn’t serious about you...” Over two years later, the memory still scorched his insides.
He would never put himself in that position again.
That resolution flew out the window the second his cell phone rang, displaying Abigail’s new number. “Micah here,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“The police car is gone.” Her voice shook so badly he could barely understand her, and she paused, exhaling slowly. When she spoke again, she’d cobbled together some measure of calm. “I don’t know how long, but there was one before lunch. I just noticed now when Owen wanted to go outside to play.”
Heat sparked in his stomach. Why had they pulled the car without notifying him or Abigail? And what could possibly justify the decision?
“I’m going to make some calls, and we’ll figure out what’s going on,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “Why don’t you and Owen stay inside for now, and be sure to lock the door and keep away from the windows, okay? This should only take a few minutes.”
Silence for a moment, then she released another breath. “Okay.”
After hanging up, he punched in the number for the county sheriff. The office assistant patched him through to the sheriff’s phone.
“Dan Layton,” the sheriff answered. Micah offered up a silent prayer of thanks that the man was in his office.
“Sheriff, this is Ranger Micah Ellis over in Badlands. I’ve been assisting Brian Overton from RCPD with the Abigail Fox kidnapping case.”
“Sure, what can I do for you?” Layton asked, his voice as leathery and tough as a piece of bison jerky. Micah had met him once, a few months after he’d started at Badlands, but they’d never had any cause to work together. “If you’re looking for an update, you can be sure we’ll notify RCPD as soon as we have one.”
“No, actually, I’m calling because the patrol officer who’s supposed to be outside Abigail Fox’s home in Interior isn’t there.”
“That’s right.”
Micah frowned, waiting for the sheriff to follow up with an explanation, but he remained silent. After a moment, he prodded, “Why isn’t an officer there, like we agreed?”
“You mean, like Detective Overton and I agreed?”
A jab to remind him of his place. Even though his insides bristled, Micah kept his tone calm. “Of course.”
“We’ve concluded she and her son are no longer in danger.”
What? The irritation in his stomach flared into anger. “But how? Her kid was—”
“Look, Ranger Evans—”
“Ellis,” Micah said firmly.
“I don’t have time to discuss this case with you, nor frankly do you have any jurisdiction over it to begin with. If you want to know more, reach out to RCPD. Good day.”
The line went dead. Micah gripped the phone a little tighter than necessary as he jabbed Brian Overton’s number into the keypad.
Relief washed through him when Brian picked up. It didn’t take long to relate his conversation with the sheriff. “Is he always that surly and unhelpful?” he finished.
“He has been in law enforcement for over thirty years.” Brian chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Sorry about all of this. I spoke with him an hour ago but got tied up in a meeting before I could call you. Layton got in touch with Abigail’s contact at Chicago PD, Officer Jimmy Bernetto. He says they’ve got feelers out on the Eric Fox case and word is, the mob is dropping it after the failed kidnapping effort. Apparently, David Blakely and his sidekick have been ordered home.”
“Do you trust that report?” Micah narrowed his eyes. Was Abigail’s safety worth the risk if their informant was wrong?
“He’s a fellow officer, Micah. Of course, we’re going to trust him. Besides, we haven’t dropped the case. Bernetto and his men are on the lookout for Blakely, and if they pick him up, we’ll press charges. Otherwise...the mob has their own twisted form of justice. Blakely’s not going to be harassing Abigail again.”
“Okay, but shouldn’t we keep the patrol car out there until those men are confirmed back in Chicago?”
Brian sighed. “It’s up to Layton. Remember, this isn’t my jurisdiction. Or yours,” he said pointedly. “Unless it happens on park property, it falls under the county. Okay?”
Micah clenched his jaw. “Obviously.” What did Brian think he was going to do? Sit outside her house in an NPS vehicle? That would never fly with the chief ranger.
After hanging up, he dropped his face into his hands and massaged his forehead. Truth was, he’d been worried about Abigail and Owen for two days now. He hadn’t wanted to invade their space, but this afternoon, hearing how hard she was struggling to control her voice... She was scared, and he wasn’t convinced this news would do much to alleviate her fears. Not after everything she’d been through.
He sighed and picked up his cell. Better to get this over with. But before he could open his contacts, the phone rang. His throat tightened when he glanced at the screen. It was Abigail’s number again.
She didn’t even wait for him to speak. “Did they send a plainclothes officer?” Her voice trembled. Then, away from the phone, “Owen, stay back from the window.” The little boy whined in the background.
“No, they pulled the patrol. Abigail, what’s going on?”
“A car just parked out front. Different than David’s. White, four doors. Two men in the front who I haven’t seen before. Watching the house.”
She paused, her breath rattling through the phone, fear emanating out of her like smoke from a fire. “Micah, they’re getting out of the car.”
* * *
Abigail’s heart thrashed against her ribs like it was trying to escape. “What do I do?” she managed to choke out. Was there any chance she was overreacting? That they were merely neighbors? That wasn’t a risk she could take, not with Owen.
“The back door.” Micah’s low, strong voice brought a sense of calm to her racing heart. “Take Owen and go out the back now. Head north between the houses to the next street. D Street. Third house on the left. It has a striped awning over the front entry. Key’s in the fake rock behind the flowerpot.”
“North, D Street, awning,” she repeated, hoping those directions would make sense once they were running.
“I’m leaving now. Should be to you in fifteen.” He paused. “Abigail, you can do this.”
She exhaled slowly, even though her ribs felt like someone had cinched a tourniquet around them. “See you soon.”
After ending the call, she stuffed the phone into her back pocket, grabbed her purse, and scooped Owen up. “Come on, bud, we’re going for a walk.”
“But I don’t have my water bottle!” he protested as she dashed with him through the small kitchen to the slider at the back of the house.
“We’ll get a drink at Mr. Micah’s house.”
Midday sun blasted down on her head as she slipped through the door and took off across the backyard. Between the pounding of her feet on the hard ground came distant thumps—the men knocking at her door? It wouldn’t take long before they realized she and Owen were gone.
She dashed across the backyards of neighboring houses as she headed north, keeping behind storage sheds and fences as much as possible, and avoiding the exposed, open desert in the center of the block. Finally she burst onto the next street parallel to hers.
There, just like he’d said—the third house on the left had an awning. Her arms burned, and she forced her feet to a walk as she carried Owen across the street. Just in case anyone was watching. No sign of the men yet, but they’d be utterly conspicuous out here.
She didn’t put Owen down until they reached Micah’s porch. “Stay right here,” she told him as she fished the key out of the fake rock.
Tension knotted around her midsection as she jammed the key into the lock, praying the door would open. Then the latch clicked, and she could breathe again. She pushed the door open, retreated inside with Owen, and locked up behind them.
And not a moment too soon, because farther down the street, the same white car turned onto Micah’s road and slowly drove past the houses like a circling vulture. Each breath felt too loud, despite the fact there was no possible way the driver could hear them. She clutched Owen close, standing on tiptoe to watch through the glass at the top of the door. When the car passed the house, she turned and slumped against the door, pressing her face against Owen’s head.
He pushed against her, struggling to get down. “Mommy, where are we?”
Her arms, which felt like lead weights, released him almost on their own, and her injured shoulder ached. “We’re at Mr. Micah’s house. The good guy who helped me find you the other day.”
The house was similar to hers—a small ranch with an attached carport to one side—and like hers, they’d entered directly into the living room. A far cry from her beautiful home in Chicago, but for a single man, Micah had decorated the small space tastefully. Neutral leather furniture sat grouped around a striking wood coffee table that looked like it had been hewn from a large tree. The walls were decorated with vintage National Park posters and a pair of floating shelves lined with wooden model airplanes.
Owen kicked his shoes off and drifted away from her, taking small, cautious steps. Like he was afraid of getting in trouble—or worse, nabbed again—any second. Her heart ached for him. Lord, if You care about my son, please help him forget this ordeal. Kids were resilient—he’d get through this—but everything that had happened would leave a mark. How could it not?
“It’s okay, bud,” she said, her voice catching. “We’re safe here.”
But as the white car circled past again, she couldn’t help hoping that Micah would hurry.
* * *
Micah made it to Abigail’s street in a record six minutes, but only because he’d pushed the speed limit by a few miles per hour. There was no sign of the white car—had they checked her home and given up already? She’d texted him as soon as she made it to his house, so at least he knew she was safe.
The front door to her house was ajar. He pulled up on the street and shut off the engine, then drew his gun from its holster in case someone was still inside. The exterior looked quiet, and no movement was apparent as he cautiously approached the front door. He paused on the doorstep, surveying the disaster that was before him. Abigail’s entire living room had been tossed—not that she had much—but now the contents of all her bags and boxes lay strewn throughout the room.
So the mob had given up, had they? He ground his teeth as he picked his way across the room. He’d made it to the kitchen, where the open slider showed Abigail’s escape route, when thumps behind him made him turn.
A dark-haired man darted from the back hallway and sprinted for the front door.
“Stop!” Micah yelled, chasing after him, but the man ignored him and bolted out the front door.
Seconds later a white car pulled up and the man rolled over the hood to escape into the passenger side door. Tires squealed as the vehicle vanished around the bend. Micah fisted his hand into a ball, holstered his gun, and pulled out his cell. After updating the sheriff’s department and Brian, he drove to his house.
“They must not have believed you about the files,” he told Abigail once he’d locked his doors, sat her down, and explained what happened.
“I don’t have them.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t know what it will take to convince them. But I do know this. Owen isn’t safe here. Not if the police don’t believe me.”
“Sheriff Layton has an officer on the way,” Micah replied. “But if you had family who could take Owen...” He frowned, watching the boy as he flipped through the big coffee table book of airplanes Micah had held on to since his own childhood. Abigail wasn’t safe yet, either. And while she might buy a little safety going on the run again with Owen, at least here people could help.
