First Night of Summer (4 page)

At Caroline’s bed, he repeated the process. The second piece of duct tape peeled off his jeans as quietly as the first. Redundancy had thus far kept him off the radar and out of prison. He wasn’t about to start taking shortcuts anytime soon.

He was growing more confident by the second, but before leaving, he had to check two things. For ten seconds, he pressed his ear against the wooden door leading into the hallway and listened. There was nothing but silence, a good sign. At the open window, he craned his neck outside and looked around. It wouldn’t look good if Mr. Night Owl Neighbor was on a midnight stroll with Fido and caught him right in the middle of a kidnapping. But nothing was stirring, not even a dog walker.

He needed both hands to lower the girls out of the window so he clicked off the flashlight. The shaft slid into the belt holster, and he let go. Silence lasted for one more brief moment before a loud thud echoed through the room. Nothing could pull people out of a dead sleep quite like a sudden and unexpected noise. Ricky’s confidence immediately turned to fear as he stood statue still. Getting caught would ruin everything. His mind raced. This was not part of the plan. It was bad.

The flashlight handle had not properly aligned with the holster pouch and fell straight to the hardwood floor. At almost a pound, it might as well have been a gunshot in the dead of night. Regardless of how much he wanted it, the tiny error could not be undone.

His senses, mainly hearing, were now in detection mode. As hard as he listened, there was not a squeak of the floor or shuffling of feet from down the hall. Time was of the essence, and he had to go now.

He plucked up the flashlight and nervously clicked it on. One mistake might be forgiven, but two, certainly, would not. He scanned around the room with particular emphasis on the floor. Stepping on a toy that squeaked or a talking dolly would add insult to injury. He put the flashlight to his belt and deliberately made sure it was properly seated. The perception of time was flying by while he seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Caroline’s bed was nearest the window. He quickly ripped back the sheets and picked her up. Normally, this would have caused his urges to come into play. He liked to take his time, touch, caress, and savor every little thing, but urgency was more important.

His bony frame was surprisingly stout, and Caroline’s weight was nothing. The muscles in his arms and legs were thin but wound like strands of cable.

At the window, he pushed her body outside. He eased it down, holding on by the wrists until her feet hit the grass. When he couldn’t lean any further, he let go, and her body flopped onto the lawn.

Josie was next. He tossed back the covers and scooped her up. He made it to the window in four steps and looked down to Caroline’s body.
Two minutes and we’re out of here
.

He turned sideways, one arm under Josie’s knees, the other behind her back, and maneuvered her feet out the window. A soft yet noticeable click stopped him cold.

Chapter Five

“W
hat was that?” Sarah sat halfway up in bed and rested on her elbows.

Isaac rolled over and faced her. With eyes still closed, he said, “Nothing. The girls are probably building a tent. Go back to sleep.”

“What was that loud thump?” she persisted.

Unlike most kids their age, Caroline and Josie preferred to undertake their construction projects in the middle of the night. They would go to bed in the evening and be found the next morning, asleep on the floor with sheets stretched between their mattresses. Time and again, Sarah tried to put an end to the late-night charades, but all attempts had thus far been futile.

“Sounded like they dropped a flashlight.” He pulled the sheet over his shoulder.

“Don’t you think you should go check?”

“I thought …” He yawned. “That’s why you bought the flashlights in the first place. So we don’t have to go in there anymore.”

She let out a heavy breath. “I did.”

Sarah was usually grumpy when first woken. But that was how it had always been. She was great at helping with homework in the evenings and putting the girls to bed. Isaac was the breakfast chef and morning motivator.

“It’s their first night of summer. They’re probably too excited to sleep. They’ll be fine.”

“Then I’ll go see.”

The words were out, but she didn’t budge. She stayed perfectly still, knowing he would get up and do it. He was so well trained.

He pulled away the covers and slipped his pajama pants over boxer shorts. He didn’t want his daughters to see him in his skivvies.

He scooted his bare feet across the smooth, wooden floor of their bedroom and opened the door. Caroline and Josie’s room was at the exact opposite end of the hallway. The doorways faced each other. Just as his swung back, a beam of light swept across the threshold down the hall. A weak smile played across his lips. He was right. It was a flashlight, but he couldn’t turn back now. Sarah would pester him until he checked it out.

A chill from an overhead vent cooled his shirtless torso. Goose bumps formed, puckering his skin. The thermostat was directly to his right, and he pressed a button to light the screen.
Sixty-eight degrees
.

There had been no more lights shining under the twin’s door, and he guessed they were finished with their big top. He wanted to get back to bed. Sarah had worn his ass out with the sexy lingerie stunt.

Slowly, he eased down the hallway. He didn’t want to frighten the girls by barging in. Instead, he pressed his ear against the door and listened. There was movement. The floor squeaked once, and he could feel weight shifting in the wood of the old house. Then silence.

His plan was to go in, help finish the wigwam, and tell the little Indians to pipe down. That would satisfy Momma, and he could get some sleep. But it probably wouldn’t go that fast. They usually wanted him to lie down on the floor and see their masterpiece. He rarely had the heart to say no. They were always so proud, their brilliant imaginations running wild.

He twisted the doorknob gently so it wouldn’t scare them and stepped in. There was a fleeting moment of confusion before realization took hold. A faint glow from outside came through the open window. A man’s silhouette was outlined in the space. He had no features or colors, only the dark, menacing figure of someone who shouldn’t be there.

Chapter Six

T
here was calm before the storm. Like fire and water, the inferno in Isaac’s eyes reached across the room and lit the violent waves dwelling in Ricky’s baby blues.

Not a split second lapsed between realization and reaction. There was never fear or hesitation, only a primal urge to protect his family. A threat cannot be posed if it does not exist, and he fully intended to eliminate the threat completely.

He raced to the window and noticed that both beds were empty. That was what training at speeds well beyond the sound barrier did. It honed an ability to think and work at the same time, in the blink of an eye, blending thoughts and actions into instinct.

The man in black must have known what was going to happen. He dropped the girl from his arms and simultaneously sprang in the opposite direction. The window was open, but not enough to accommodate the violent exit.

The child’s body hit the floor, followed by a crashing of glass. Like it was nothing more than a soap bubble, the window shattered, taking half the frame with it. The masked man fell to the lawn in a storm of debris.

Isaac was in hot pursuit, about to jump out the mangled opening. But the body, which he recognized as Josie’s, was in the way.
Where is Caroline?
He put his palms on the windowsill, broken glass lacerating them, and looked out. Not three feet away was the intruder. As quickly as he had flown through the window, he got to his feet and ran. And there, lying motionless on the rain-soaked lawn, Isaac found the answer to his question.

Shards of glass covered Caroline’s body. The bastard had landed right on top of her, smashing jagged pieces between their bodies.

Isaac was prepared to hurl himself out the window and give chase. Backing down was not in his nature. He had killed before and knew he was capable of doing it again. And this time, he really wanted to. He was about to do so when the bedroom lights turned on.

“What’s going on in here?” Sarah demanded. She stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of his boxers and a baggy shirt. “I heard glass—”

“Call nine one one!” he barked.

“Josie!” Her face was stricken with horror as she rushed forward. “What the hell happened?”

“Call the police. Now! Someone tried to kidnap them. She’s fine,” he said, meaning Josie.

In fact, he didn’t know for certain that she was fine. He had, however, noticed the strip of tape over her mouth. Dead people didn’t scream, so he assumed the best. She was alive but knocked out or drugged. There was no time to stop and see.

Sarah was frantic. Her eyes searched the room for Caroline. “Where’s Caroline? Where is she?”

“She’s out the window.” He watched the masked man run away. “Now please, honey. Get the phone, call nine one one, and come back.”

With his hands still on the windowsill, disregarding the little cuts and stabs, he vaulted through the open space. He landed over Caroline with one foot planted on either side of her. The blades of grass were soft. The fragments of glass, however, were not. They drove into his feet like nails, but he put the pain aside. His focus was too solitary to allow interference.

The bedroom lights lit the small patch of lawn where she laid, and he knelt. Outside of their island, the night consumed everything. He was about to run after the son of a bitch who had just disappeared behind the Howard’s home, but he stopped short. Caroline’s white sleeping shirt was stained crimson all around the neckline and chest. Had Sarah not flipped on the lights, he never would have seen it. She was hurt badly.

He heard Sarah’s feet pound down the hall and into the kitchen. In a few seconds, she was giving the operator an address and explaining the situation.

In the back of his mind, Isaac thought,
I should go after him
. But he couldn’t force himself to leave his little girl.
Even if I catch him, what good would it do if Caroline bleeds to death?
His world had shrunk to a tiny space in the great big mountain night. Outside of that, nothing mattered. Everything else was diminished. He could faintly hear Sarah asking Josie to wake up and the distant sound of an engine revving to life.

Caroline wore a pair of cotton pajama pants with different-colored hearts. The fabric was pulled up around her knees and exposed several scratches. A bead of blood ran down one calf. It was nothing compared to the stain growing around the collar of her shirt.

Moving someone who had just suffered a trauma injury was the last thing you were supposed to do. But Isaac had no choice. The way she was laying, he couldn’t see where all the blood was coming from. He gingerly rolled her flat and almost vomited at what he saw.

The side of her neck was completely sliced open. Blood literally poured from the flesh. The flow was constant and unrelenting. The gruesomeness of the laceration was not the cause for Isaac’s sickness. He had seen much worse. The gut-wrenching heave came from a sobering realization that she might be broken beyond repair. The cut was too deep, too wide, and in the wrong spot. A pool of red was already spread beneath her. The essence of her life slowly covered the green grass. He clenched his teeth and shut off emotions. His baby was dying. He had to do something.

Her shirt was thin. He ripped at it, trying not to jostle her body more than necessary. But nothing else was within reach. He rolled the T-shirt into a tube and firmly pressed against the cut. The harder he pushed, the better it stopped the bleeding. But if he held it too solid, her windpipe would collapse. The blood just kept coming, and he made up his mind. At the rate it was flowing, she would bleed to death faster than she would suffocate. So he pressed, willing the hole to close, willing her body to hang on, and praying it would work.

He still desperately wanted to exact some kind of violent justice. The men he killed before were terrorists, enemies of the United States of America, responsible for the deaths of countless women and children. But his past actions had been on orders, and he didn’t have to look into their eyes as he rained fire on them from the cockpit of his jet. It was a job, a duty. This, however, his flesh-and-blood child dying in his arms, was personal. Maybe the man in black wasn’t from a sect of radical Islam, but he was definitely a terrorist. Killing him would be a necessary pleasure. His teeth clenched in anger. Hoping for the opportunity, he prayed it would be a very up close and personal experience.

In the end, though, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t abandon Caroline for the sake of retribution. He had been there when she came into the world, all five pounds and two ounces of her. If these were her last moments on earth, he was going to be there for every second. She might be leaving, but he vowed not to let her do it alone. Determined, pleading with God to save his little girl, to take his own life in place of hers, he pulled his broken child into his lap and snuggled in closer. With his right hand, he tried to keep the life pressed into her. With the left, he peeled the duct tape away from her lips and softly stroked pieces of hair over her ears. There wasn’t much hope, but wanting to do it while the spark of life was still in her body, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Just in case she could feel him, just in case she could hear him, he said, “I love you, Caroline. Daddy loves you so much. If you can, please hang on. Hang on, baby. Please. Daddy loves you. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. “

In the island of light, he rocked back and forth. No one else existed, just a brokenhearted father and his bleeding child.

The last thing he remembered before the ambulance and police showed up was the van. A white flash sped out of the Howard’s driveway, and tires squealed onto the street. Its taillights disappeared around the bend.