Her Stolen Son (14 page)

Colt must have seen him, too. He removed his weapon and discharged a bullet, then the man spun around and fired back. The bullet skimmed the top of the front of the van and whizzed over Serena's head.

Then the man dove into the sedan and cranked the engine.

“Stay here. I'm going after him,” Colt yelled. Without waiting for a response, he jogged to their rental car, jumped in and sped off after the car.

Serena's heart raced, her breathing turning raspy as she watched them disappear. She glanced at the airport expecting Homer to appear but his hearing must have been as bad as his eyesight.

Pushing to her feet, she surveyed the area just in case Rice had been with the shooter and stayed behind. But the runway, the property surrounding the hangars, the parking lot—there was nothing except a strained silence. Not even the wind blowing to stir the hot air. Not a car engine or the motor of a plane.

But a low keening sound broke the silence. Serena froze, stiffening, straining to hear. Had she imagined the sound?

No. The muffled cry rose from the distance. A child's cry.

Her pulse clamored and she ran to the first hangar and rapped on the metal door. “Hello, is someone in there?”

Nothing.

Another sound, something banging against metal, rent the air, and she raced to the second hangar and tried to open the door, but it was chained and locked. “Is someone in there?”

Suddenly the rattling grew louder as if someone was pounding on one of the doors.

Serena raced down the row of hangars, banging on each one, frantic. By the time she reached the fifth one, she was sweating and shaking.

But she knew without a doubt that someone was trapped inside. Maybe her son.

“Petey!” She banged on the door. “If you're in there, make some noise.”

Another low wail, then a sob, low and anguished.

Like the other door, this one was locked and chained. She tried to wrench it open, but it wouldn't budge. Panic threatened, but she tamped it down and tried to think.

She spotted a tool shed a few feet from the first hangar and ran to it. Inside various mechanic tools were stacked in tool chests, others mounted on the wall. She grabbed a pair of bolt cutters, ran back to the hangar, hoisted them and snapped the chain in two.

The chain rattled as she yanked it from the door and tossed it to the ground. It was heavy, but adrenaline kicked in, and she shoved open the door and peered inside. Darkness bathed the interior, the scent of grease and dirt mingling with sweat.

“Is someone here?” she said, inching slowly into the dark space.

Movement stirred from the corner, then a low whimper. She slowly moved toward it. “Please don't be scared. I'm here to help you.”

Her shoes squeaked on the concrete floor as she inched her way toward the sound. A sliver of moonlight wormed its way through the opened door and cast a slight shimmer across her path.

Two little children were huddled in the corner, clinging to each other, their muffled sobs reverberating through the darkness and tearing at her heart.

“Petey, is that you? Are you all right?”

She reached out and stroked one of the child's backs, and a little girl looked up at her with tear-stained cheeks. The other child was sobbing harder, and Serena realized it was another little girl.

The two girls Colt had said were kidnapped from Raleigh?

Emotions overcame her and tears filled her eyes. These poor little girls had been left in this hot deserted building with no food or water, and another scorching day to face.

“Shh, come here, you're safe now. We'll call your families and tell them to come and get you.” She gathered them against her, and both the children collapsed in her arms, sobbing and clinging to her for dear life.

Her heart ached for them and their families, and the trauma they would have to overcome from their ordeal.

But anguish wrenched her heart. Rice had left the girls behind.

So where was her son?

 

“L
ET ME GO!”
Petey slammed his fists at the big man's shoulders, kicking and screaming with all his might. “I want my mommy!”

“Shut up, kid!” The man threw him to the floor, then ripped a piece of duct tape from the roll at his waist and shoved it over Petey's mouth. He tried to scream again, but the sound died. Still he beat at the man as he jerked his hands and tied them with rope, then his feet.

Then the mean man dragged some kind of sack over his head and Petey fought harder, hating the darkness. He couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't tell where the man was carrying him.

Then he heard the sound of water. Ocean waves. A boat's motor rumbling. The man's feet pounded on something that sounded like wood.

A boat dock.

Fear clogged his throat. The man had left the girls in that nasty hot building at the airport. What was he going to do with him?

The swish of the tides against the dock thrashed, and tears ran down Petey's cheeks. Was he going to throw him into the ocean and leave him to die?

Colt chased the car to 95, then followed him a few miles until the man veered off onto a side road that ran along the coast. The man was flying, hitting one hundred miles an hour, weaving around traffic and nearly sideswiping cars as he passed on the wrong side.

Colt could barely keep up in the rental car, and cursed as a stream of teenagers flooded the streets, jaywalking, others honking horns as they waved to friends.

Traffic thickened, tourists and locals maneuvering toward the nightspots, and he dodged an oncoming Corvette then bore down on the shooter's car.

But the shooter accelerated again, forcing Colt to do the same. He raced across a bridge over the inlet, but an oncoming vehicle decided to pass on the bridge, and slammed into the shooter. The shooter's car skidded and spun, hit the guardrail, slid to the end of the bridge and plunged into the water below.

The oncoming car sped past, two drunken young men screaming out the window and shouting it was party time.

Colt swung the sedan to the side of the road, screeched
to a stop, threw the sedan into Park then jumped out. He jogged to the side of the waterway and peered down, but the shooter's car sank into the churning water. He ran to the edge, searching to see if the man made it out, but he didn't spot him.

Furious that his only lead might be drowning, he tucked his gun and phone into a drain nearby, threw off his shoes and dove into the water. Sirens wailed in the distance, two other cars had stopped, curious spectators peering at the scene.

He swam toward the car, then ducked beneath the water and dove toward the driver's side. The doors were shut, the windows up, water slowly seeping inside.

Colt grimaced. The man from the photo Ben had sent was inside. His head was slumped against the steering wheel, blood swirling around his face, his eyes staring wide open.

Colt tried the door anyway, but it was jammed. He jerked and tugged, but it wouldn't budge. He balled his hand into a fist and tried to break the window, but the force of the water made it harder, and he couldn't crack the glass.

His own lungs ached for air, but he swam to the opposite side and tried the passenger door and window but no luck. Dammit.

Swimming back to the driver's side, he rapped on the glass but the river of blood was so thick now all he saw was the whites of the man's eyes bulging.

He was dead.

Colt silently cursed as he swam to the surface of the water. By the time he reached the bank, two police
officers and an ambulance were rushing toward him, and a group of rubberneckers had collected along with a news van and a photographer already snapping shots.

Colt knotted his hands into fists as one of the officers approached.

“Detective Walter Riley, MDPD. Sir, what happened here?”

Colt shook water from his hair, removed his ID from his pocket and explained about his investigation. “You can call Sergeant Sanchez. Ms. Stover and I spoke with him earlier about her son's kidnapping and Lyle Rice, the man who abducted him.”

“Was he the man in the car?”

“No. That was James Ladden, Rice's former cell mate. We believe Ladden was Rice's accomplice. He tried to kill me and Ms. Stover at the private airport nearby. I was in pursuit when he careened into the waterway.” Colt glanced back at the water. “I tried to rescue him but couldn't open the door. He was dead. Looks like a head injury.”

The detective angled his head toward the other cop. “Call a crew to tow the car, and make sure the ME and crime techs are here when he does.”

“Copy that.” The officer walked away to make the calls.

The detective turned back to Colt. “Stay here while I call Sanchez.”

“Sure.” While the cops had turned away, he retrieved his weapon and phone. It buzzed the minute he picked it up, and he checked the number. Serena. He connected the call. “Serena?”

“Colt, are you okay?”

“Yes, I chased the shooter but he crashed into the inlet. I'm at the scene with the cops.”

“Does he know where Petey is?”

Colt ran a hand through his soggy hair. “I'm sorry, Serena, but he didn't make it.”

A heartbeat of strained silence passed.

“Serena?”

“Yes, I'm here,” she whispered hoarsely. “After you left, I heard a noise and started checking the hangars.”

“You found Rice and Petey?”

“No,” Serna said in an anguished voice. “But there were two little girls in the hangar. Kinsey Jones and Ellie Pinkerton. Colt, he just left them there with no food or water. If they'd been locked there in this heat overnight and all day tomorrow, they could have died.”

“Are they hurt?”

“Not that I can see, just traumatized. Homer called the paramedics.”

“Good.”

“One of them said she knew Petey. He was with the girls in the back of the van.” Her voice cracked. “But the girls don't know where Rice took him.”

Dammit. “Listen, Serena, I know this is frustrating and scary, but just remember that we know Petey's alive. Hang on to that.” The sound of her sniffling tore at his heart.

“When will you be back?”

Colt breathed deeply, wanting to be with her now. “I don't know. The detective is verifying my story. Just
stay with the girls. I'll phone Gage so he can let the FBI agent know you found them.”

Serena disconnected and he punched Gage's number and filled him in.

“I'll contact Agent Metcalf and Detective Shaw. Metcalf should be landing in Miami any minute. I'll have him meet you at the private airport to inform the parents and arrange for the girls to go home.”

“Thanks, Gage.”

The detective strode toward him, working his jaw, and Colt hung up.

“Sergeant Sanchez confirmed your story. But I'll need your statement and contact information before you leave.”

“Certainly.” Colt removed a business card and handed it to the officer. “Serena Stover just called. She found two of the children Rice had kidnapped locked in one of the hangars at the private airport. Special Agent Metcalf of the FBI is on his way there. You may want to update Sanchez.”

“I will.” The cop made a clicking sound with his teeth. “You've been busy, Mason. Maybe we need you down here.”

Colt grimaced. He didn't know where he belonged, but he had to finish this case first. “Rice still has Petey Stover, and there's an ocean of possibilities where he could take him.”

The cop's expression confirmed his worst fears. Working in Miami he'd obviously grown accustomed to losing perps and victims to the waterways.

But Colt was not.

He wouldn't stop or give up until he found Serena's son.

 

S
ERENA CRADLED
the little girls to her, her heart throbbing at the fear in their eyes. Homer had been so distraught when she'd brought the girls inside and explained where she'd found them that she'd feared he was going to have a heart attack.

She'd managed to calm him, and then he'd bought water and snacks from the vending machines for the children.

“Don't worry, girls,” Serena whispered softly. “The police are coming and they're calling your parents and arranging for you to go home.”

She wanted to ask details of what Rice and his accomplice had done to them, but fear and the realization that the girls needed loving care, not to be interrogated, kept her from pushing them for information.

Kinsey wiped at her eyes. “The big man was mean,” she said in a strained voice. “But the one with the bushy hair was even meaner. He tooked my blanket away.”

“And he stoled my doll,” Ellie said.

“Petey yelled at him to take us home, but he said we was never gonna see our mamas and daddies again, that they didn't want us anymore.” Kinsey gulped back more tears.

Anger mushroomed inside Serena. “Those men lied to you, honey. Your mamas and daddies didn't say that. They've been really upset and looking for you ever since you disappeared, just like I have for Petey.”

The screech of a police car interrupted their conversation, and Homer hobbled toward the front to let them in.

Serena glanced up as a dark-haired man in a suit strode in. He stopped in front of her, took one look at the girls and a relieved smile stretched across his face.

“I'm Special Agent Metcalf,” he said, giving her a quick nod. Then he knelt in front of the girls. “Kinsey, Ellie, I've already phoned your parents. They're thrilled to know that you're safe and can't wait to see you. They're catching the first available flights to Miami.” He lowered his voice to a soothing tone. “Until then we're going to take you to the hospital and make sure you're safe.”

Ellie clutched Serena's hand. “I don't like hospitals.”

Kinsey's lower lip quivered. “Me neither. They give you shots.”

“Shots hurt,” Ellie whispered.

The agent looked at Serena as if he was at a loss, and she cuddled both girls to her. “They're not going to give you shots, honey. They just want to make sure the bad men didn't hurt you.”

“What if they come back?” Kinsey cried.

“They will never hurt you again,” Agent Metcalf said firmly. “I promise you they're going to jail.”

Ellie angled her cherub face toward Serena, shivering against her. “Will you go with us?” Ellie whispered.

Serena wanted to be on the streets searching for Petey, but she had to wait on Colt. And there was no way she could abandon these two little girls now.

 

A
S SOON AS
C
OLT
was allowed to leave the scene of James Ladden's accident, he rushed back to the private airport to meet Serena. When he walked into the terminal, his gaze latched on to her where she sat cradling two tiny little girls. They looked terrified, lost and dirty, and so small and fragile that anger heated his blood. The idea of Rice and Ladden locking them in that hot hangar where they could have died made him want to inflict the same punishment on them.

Although Ladden was dead, Rice wasn't. He'd have his chance….

The sound of an ambulance's wail echoed from outside, and he glanced at Homer, who looked shaken by the ordeal, and then a suited man who he immediately assumed was the fed.

The agent stepped up to introduce himself. “Special Agent Mitchell Metcalf. I hear you're tracking a child kidnapping ring.”

“Yeah, but my first priority is finding Petey Stover.”

“Right. I've already contacted these girls' parents and they're meeting us at the hospital.”

“I promised the girls I'd go with them,” Serena said.

Admiration stirred in Colt's chest. Serena was terrified for her son, but still unselfish and loving enough to care for these other children.

The paramedics rushed in and Homer waved them over.

“I'll follow in the rental car,” Colt said to Serena. “Then we'll regroup.”

Serena soothed the girls while the medics carried them to the ambulance, and they allowed her to climb in the back and ride with them. He and Agent Metcalf followed.

When they arrived at the hospital, Colt was surprised they allowed Serena to stay with the girls, but one of the head nurses took charge, realized the trauma the girls had suffered and insisted they have an adult present who they felt safe with.

Colt and Metcalf drank bad coffee in the waiting room for the next hour and a half while a child psychologist interviewed the girls. Within minutes of one another the girls' parents arrived.

“Where's Kinsey?” Mrs. Jones asked. “Was she hurt?”

The Pinkertons rushed up to them. “And Ellie? Is she all right?”

“Both girls are fine,” Agent Metcalf said calmly, then introduced Colt. “Detective Mason and his client Serena Stover traced one of the kidnappers to a private airport. Ms. Stover actually rescued the girls from one of the hangars.”

“We want to see our girls,” Mr. Pinkerton demanded.

“Yes, please…” Kinsey's mother's voice warbled. “I've been so worried. I thought…”

She didn't finish the sentence. Instead she burst into tears when Serena and the psychologist appeared with Kinsey and Ellie. Both parents rushed to embrace the children, crying and sobbing.

Emotions thickened Colt's throat at the reunion. Relief for the children who'd been found.

Worry for Serena's son who was still lost.

 

S
ERENA'S CHEST CONSTRICTED
as she watched the girls collapse into their mothers' waiting arms. Kinsey's mother and Ellie's mother and father were all crying, clinging to each other as if they were afraid to let go for fear they would disappear again.

She understood their fears.

Colt slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him. “You did a wonderful thing today, Serena. You're a brave woman.”

She dabbed at her eyes. “I don't understand why he left the girls but took Petey.”

“Did they say anything about Rice or Ladden?” Colt lowered his voice so the parents couldn't hear. “About what happened to them? Were they hurt?”

She shook her head no. “Thank God. The doctor said there was no evidence of physical or sexual abuse. Except for being emotionally traumatized and slightly dehydrated, the girls are fine.”

“I'm sure their parents will get them the counseling they need.” Colt paused. “Did either one of them mention where they were held or where Rice was going?”'

Serena's throat hurt. “No. Once the girls are calmer and settled down, a forensic interviewer will talk to them. They might tell us more then, but they claimed that most of the time they were kept in the back of that van. It was dark. They couldn't see anything, and couldn't hear what the men were saying.”

Kinsey's mother picked her daughter up and strode toward Serena. “You're the woman who found my little girl, aren't you?”

Serena nodded, and stroked Kinsey's damp hair from her cheek. “I'm glad she's all right.”