Silent Night (8 page)

She had to do something. Anything but run screaming into the street. Libby looked at the computer. She could call up the video, save it for evidence. But the stream had no rewind, no way to save it. If she could hack into the site, she could get to the file. The police could save time and get the pictures of those men circulating. With a few keystrokes, she broke through the firewall and was in the code.

Then her computer blinked and went black. And when she called up the site again, the entire code was gone. What had she done?

Two

S
mog hung over the New York skyline and matched Lawrence Rooney’s mood. He studied the expansive view from his penthouse office on Fifth Avenue. The senator sitting in the chair on the other side of the gleaming walnut desk had better come through with the promised plum after all Lawrence had done for him.

Lawrence kept his attention away from the senator long enough to make sure the other man knew who was in charge, then turned from his perusal of his domain and settled in his chair. “You have news for me?”

Senator Troy Bassett tugged on his tie, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his damp forehead. “The city is like an oven today,” he muttered.

In his fifties now, he had once been handsome, but his blond good looks had been replaced by flab and gray hair. Lawrence had known him since they went to Harvard together. They knew each other’s weaknesses all too well. Lawrence had funneled a fortune into getting Bassett elected. But the rewards were coming—now.

“The vote?” Lawrence prodded.

The senator nodded. “Came through. The ferry system will be added next year.”

“Excellent.” Lawrence sat back in his leather chair. “I will have possession of the land by the end of the summer.”

“I thought the old man refused to sell it.”

“Luckily for us, he died.” How he wished he could have seen Ray Mitchell take his last breath.

Bassett lifted a brow. “Natural causes?”

Lawrence laughed. “Of course. We both know I like to have my own way, but I’ve never stooped to murder. I’ve found money talks well enough that it’s not necessary.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Though there’s always a first time for everything.”

“You’d met your match in Mitchell though. He was adamant.”

“True enough. But his son has no such scruples. He knows when to take a good offer and run with it.”

“So he’s agreed to your price?”

Lawrence nodded. “He has. I was willing to go up another five million if I had to, but he didn’t know that. I got a bargain.”

“You always do.”

The door opened and Lawrence’s secretary stuck her head in. “Mr. Rooney, Mr. Poe is here to see you.”

“Excellent. Send him in,” Lawrence said. “Stay,” he told the senator, who had started to rise. “Poe will bring us both up to date.”

Kenneth Poe, in a navy suit and red tie, strolled into the office. Every dark strand of hair perfectly coiffed, he was the epitome of a gentleman. His usefulness to Lawrence had grown in the past year. If Lawrence had been blessed with a son, he would have wanted the boy to be like Poe. Smart, ruthless, and handsome. He was nearly thirty now and still unmarried. Perhaps it was time to introduce him to Katelyn. Lawrence couldn’t imagine a better son-in-law.

“Sir,” Poe said, extending his hand. “Senator.”

The men shook hands, and Lawrence ticked another box in Poe’s favor. He knew how to act around power and had made sure to show respect to Lawrence first. The boy must have taken a class on sucking up. Lawrence liked it.

“I hope you have a signed bill of sale for me,” Lawrence said.

Poe settled into the other chair and casually propped one foot on the opposite knee. “Unfortunately, we’ve hit a snag.”

Lawrence frowned at Poe’s grave tone. “What kind of snag?”

“It’s serious.”

When Poe said something was serious, Lawrence paid attention. “How serious?”

“A young woman came to town. Very smart and nosy. She found the cave. I’m not sure if she saw the contents.” He glanced at the senator.

Lawrence pursed his lips. “We just need her out of the way long enough for us to get the land signed over. Can you put her in a safe place until we accomplish that?”

“It’s already done. But what if that causes even more problems?”

“If it does, we’ll deal with it later. I have a great deal of money riding on this, Kenneth. I won’t allow my plans to be derailed by a spelunker. Fix it.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

Poe’s best was usually spectacular. Lawrence dismissed his concerns and began to think about what he would do with the money that would come pouring in when he turned Hope Island into the next Myrtle Beach.

The sailboat was sinking fast, and so was the sun. Two people flailed about in the water below. Chief Petty Officer Alec Bourne sat on the floor of the Dolphin helicopter with his feet dangling over the edge. “Take it lower,” he shouted over the roar of the rotors. His Coast Guard team received the call for help twenty minutes ago, and he’d prayed all the way out that they’d be in time.

The hurricane had veered and was going to miss them, but its outer band stirred up fifteen-foot seas, and the small craft below had floundered in the wind and waves. It heeled to the port by about forty-five degrees. This distress call was likely to be the first of several for the day.

Aircraft Commander Josh Holman nodded, and the helicopter hovered closer to the waves pounding at the boat. Alec leaned into the wind. The stinging rain struck his face, and he smelled the salty air as he waited for the signal from Curtis Ireland, his flight mechanic and best friend.

“Stand by to deploy swimmer,” Josh barked.

“Roger, checking swimmer.” Curtis slapped Alec’s chest.

Alec inhaled, then flipped the hinged buckle and released his gunner’s belt, the last piece of gear that held him in the helicopter. He shoved off the aircraft. The wind buffeted him on the way down. The waves slapped the air from his lungs and he submerged, then popped to the surface and struck out for the first of the people in the water.

A woman in the sea struggled toward him. When she reached him, she grabbed his neck and nearly took him under the water. “Calm down!” He pushed her away, then grabbed her from behind in the traditional rescue hold. She stiffened, then relaxed in his grip. He gave Curtis a thumbs-up, and the rescue basket began to descend toward them.

“You’re going to be okay,” he assured the woman.

“We hit a shoal,” she gasped, her lips blue. “We’ve been in the water for two hours.”

“It’s almost over.” He grabbed the basket and got her inside, then signaled to Curtis to lift her to the helicopter while he went after her husband.

Five minutes later he was back aboard the Dolphin too. Mission accomplished. The health service technician, Sara Kavanagh, began to check out the woman’s pulse and blood pressure. Both patients were swathed in blankets. They thanked Alec and his crew several times as the chopper veered back to the Coast Guard station, where medical personnel waited to attend the capsized sailors.

On days like this Alec knew he was right where God wanted him. There were other days when nothing went right, or when they lost someone they were trying to save.

He was smiling when he walked to the grassy picnic area of the station with his friends. Alec and Curtis had gone through training together. They were as different as two best friends could be. Curtis was the quiet, thoughtful one of the group. Though he came from money, he never flaunted it. Sara Kavanagh was the only female on their team. Her reserve kept the men at the station from making any inappropriate remarks, and she had earned their trust with her skills. He sometimes wondered if she and Josh Holman would end up a couple. Josh was a jokester and kept the rest of them laughing, but sometimes Alec thought he saw a special spark when Josh looked at Sara.

“You’ve got three days off, Alec,” Josh said. “Gonna leave the island and head for the casino so you can win big and buy me a Jaguar?”

“I think you’ll have to settle for a bicycle on what I have,” Alec said. “Me and Zach will go crabbing. I hear there have been some good hauls. Maybe I’ll make enough to build that back deck.”

Sara was pulling food from a sack. “How is Zach?”

Alec’s smile faded. He shrugged. “It’s only been two weeks. You know how it is with a teenager. One minute he’s got a head on his shoulders and the next he’s doing something so stupid, you’d think he was raised under a rock. He’s sure glad to be back on the island, though. He hated Richmond.”

“There are bound to be challenges. You’ve never raised a kid before,” Sara said.

“Darrell did most of the raising and I’ll figure out the rest. He’s all I have left of Darrell.”

The small plane crash had been only six months ago, and Alec still missed his older brother with a painful ache. Zach was the spitting image of Darrell at that age too. The kid was a handful for his grandparents though, and Alec had taken custody two weeks ago. He should have taken him right from the start, but Alec’s mother had been adamant that the boy’s place was with them. And Darrell had named his parents as guardians.

His cell phone rang and he grabbed it. The station was one of the few places on the island where his cell worked. The call was from his cousin Tom, who also happened to be the sheriff on this rock. “Hey, Tom.”

“Sorry to bother you, buddy, but I’ve got Zach here in jail.”

Alec’s stomach plummeted. “What’s he done?”

“He and some of his friends took it into their heads to spray-paint graffiti on the school. I caught him with the paint. I think you should leave him here overnight. Might teach him a lesson.”

The thought of his nephew in jail pained Alec, but he knew his cousin was right. “Whatever you think is best.”

“While I’ve got you on the phone, I need your help. A woman named Nicole Ingram was abducted out at Tidewater Pier.”

“Abducted?”

“The Virginia Beach police called me. Her business partner saw it all on the cam.”

Alec winced. “That had to have been rough.”

“She was hysterical, according to the officer who called me. She’s on her way here. Can I get your team to keep your eyes open on this one? The kidnappers took her in a boat.”

“Sure thing. You got a description of the woman?”

Tom gave it to him. “Oops, got another call. Don’t come until lunch tomorrow to spring your nephew.”

Alec ended the call and put his phone away. The others were looking at him with curiosity. “Zach’s in jail.”

“So we gathered,” Curtis said. “What’d he do?”

“Spray-painted graffiti on the school.”

“I did that once,” Josh said. “It’s a rite of passage to adulthood.”

“I never did,” Alec said.

“Yeah, but you walk on water.”

Alec grinned at the familiar joke. Just because he didn’t drink or smoke, most of the other men thought he was some kind of saint. The truth was far different.

The story continues in
Tidewater Inn
by Colleen Coble.

An Excerpt from
Without a Trace

One

I
t was days like this, when the sun bounced off Lake Superior with an eye-squinting brilliance, that Bree Nicholls forgot all her qualms about living where the Snow King ruled nine months of the year. There was no other place on earth like the U.P.—Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. With Keweenaw Peninsula to the north and Ottawa National Forest to the south, there could be no more beautiful spot in the world. The cold, crystal-clear waters of the northernmost Great Lakes stretched to the horizon as far as she could see.

But she’d never find those kids by focusing on the seascape. Pressing her foot to the accelerator, she left the lake behind as she urged her old Jeep Cherokee forward along the rutted dirt track. Bree’s best friend, Naomi Heinonen, steadied herself against the door’s armrest and looked over her shoulder at the two dogs still safely confined in their kennels. The Kitchigami Wilderness Preserve lay to the east, past Miser, a drive of only fifteen miles or so, but on this washboard road, it took longer than Bree liked.

“Don’t kill us getting there!” Naomi shouted above the road noise.

Bree didn’t reply. These lost children weren’t some vacationers without ties; they were residents of Rock Harbor, two of their own. And night would be here soon. If Naomi were driving, her foot would be heavy on the accelerator too. The preserve was a formidable tract that could swallow up two kids without a trace.

The wind churned autumn’s red and gold leaves in eddies and blew them across the road like brightly colored tumbleweeds. Equally colorful trees crowded the hills like giant banks of mums. The U.P. in autumn was Bree’s favorite time, except when ever-shorter days put strangleholds on their search efforts.

M-18 headed on east, but Bree made a sharp turn onto Pakkala Road, which would take them into a heavily forested area. In the spring, motor homes and SUVs pulling campers plied the road on their way to experience some of the last wilderness left in the Midwest. Today the road was practically empty.

“Fill me in on what we know,” Bree said.

“Donovan O’Reilly reported Emily and Timmy missing three hours ago. They were on some outdoor nature thing with their school,” Naomi said.

Bree knew Donovan O’Reilly—he owned the local Ace Hardware store. His wife had left him and the kids nearly two years ago, and now his eyes had a haunted look, as though he wondered what fate would hand him next. Bree often stopped by Ace to pick up supplies for the ongoing renovation of her lighthouse home, and a friendship of sorts had developed between them.

“One of the students said she heard Emily talk about seeing a raccoon,” Naomi continued, “so that might be what caused the kids to wander off. It’s not much to go on, but they’ve started searching.” She chewed on her lip. “You remember Timmy has diabetes? I wonder when his shot is due.”

“I was thinking about that.” Bree imagined Donovan was out of his mind with worry. “Donovan asked me out last week; did I tell you that?” she asked. She’d been tempted to tell him yes. Her lighthouse echoed with silence, but she had realized it wasn’t fair to use someone like Donovan to ward off her loneliness. “I said no, of course.”

Naomi didn’t reply, and Bree looked at her curiously. “What? You don’t like him? Didn’t he used to be your brother’s best friend? You probably know him and the kids pretty well.”

A flush moved to Naomi’s cheeks, and she looked out the window. “That was a long time ago. I only see him at the hardware store now, and I like him fine. Why did you say no?”

“I’m not ready. Maybe I never will be.” Bree tapped the steering wheel with impatient fingers, wishing the Jeep could go faster over the bumpy, rutted road. Instead, she slowed and turned onto the access road that would take her back to the campground parking lot.

As she pulled in, Bree saw people fanning out in a search grid. There was an assortment of searchers, ranging from teenagers like Tommy Lempinen to professional types like Inetta Harris, who was still dressed in her business suit. When one of their own was threatened, Rock Harbor residents pulled together.

Bree and Naomi got out, attached leashes to the dogs, and shrugged their arms into their ready-kit backpacks, fully outfitted with first-aid kit, small plastic tarp, energy bars, flashlight, flares, bug repellant, towelettes, compass, Swiss pocketknife, radio, topographic map of the area, canteen, sunglasses, sunscreen, and every other item one was likely to need on a search. A young woman in a brown National Park Service uniform was Bree’s first target.

“We’re the Kitchigami K-9 Search and Rescue team,” Bree told her, though that much was printed on the bright orange vests that both the women and the dogs wore. “I’m Bree Nicholls. Who’s in charge?”

The young woman pointed toward a group of people nearly hidden by a stand of sycamore. “The lead ranger is over there.” Bree looked and recognized Donovan’s ink-dark hair among them.

Bree and Naomi headed toward the group. Donovan saw Bree and broke away. Pain contorted his handsome features. With his black hair and dark blue eyes, Bree had always thought he looked a bit like Pierce Brosnan, though today he was too upset and pale to carry off the James Bond sang-froid.

“Please, you’ve got to find the kids!” His hands trembled as he thrust two small jackets toward her. “They don’t even have their jackets on, and it’s supposed to get to near freezing tonight.” The torment in his eyes spoke of his fear of loss more clearly than his words. “Timmy’s shot is overdue now.”

His voice quavered, and Bree put a comforting hand on his arm. She knew the anxiety he felt. “We’ll find them, Donovan. The dogs are well trained, and Samson has a special radar for children.”

His head snapped up as if mounted on a spring. A dawning hope filled his face. “I’ll come with you.”

How well Bree remembered that overwhelming desire to help. The waiting was the hard part. When her husband’s plane went down, taking their son and all her hopes for their future with it, she had felt a crushing need to do something. In her case, there had been nothing to do but try to move on. With any luck, Donovan probably would not be in that situation.

She shook her head as she took the jackets from his hand. “You have to stay close to base, Donovan. The kids will be scared when we find them, and you’ll need to be in a position to get to them quickly when they’re found. Try to stay calm. We still have several hours before sunset. We’ll find them.”

Donovan nodded, but his gaze flickered from Bree to Naomi with a naked appeal in his eyes. “I want to do something.”

“Pray,” Naomi advised.

His eyes squeezed shut. “I started that as soon as I learned they were gone,” he whispered.

Naomi’s answer to everything was prayer. Prayer had done little for Bree’s own desperate pleas. What use was a God like that?

“Let’s go,” Bree said.

As they approached the tree line, a slim, feminine figure stepped out of a stand of jack pine and came toward them. Bree lifted a hand in greeting. She should have known her sister-in-law wouldn’t be far from the action. She craved media attention the way the mine owners craved cheap workers.

Hilary Kaleva pushed aside the branches barring her way into the clearing as though they were a personal affront. Hilary, Rock Harbor’s mayor, was having the mother of all bad-hair days. Her hair, blonde like her brother Rob’s, was swept up in a formerly elegant French roll, but strands loosened by tree branches now clung damply to her neck. Streaks of mud marred her navy suit, and bits of pine needles clung to the fabric.

“It’s the poodle,” Naomi muttered to Bree. “I’m out of here. I’ll wait with the rangers.”

“Coward,” Bree murmured. She wished she could laugh. Rob used to call Hilary his “poodle sister,” which Hilary found less than amusing, but Bree and Naomi had always thought the description apt. Hilary could be sweet and loving one moment then turn and bite without provocation. And she talked until Bree grew weary of listening. But she could be just as endearing as a poodle when she wanted to be. From the expression on her face, today wasn’t one of those days.

Samson woofed at Hilary in greeting and strained at the leash to meet her. The mayor flinched at the sniffing dog, pulling away with a moue of distaste. As if sensing Hilary’s animosity, Samson lurched toward Hilary then came alongside Bree and rubbed his nose against her knee. Bree tugged him farther away from her sister-in-law. No sense in upsetting her.

Hilary’s scowl eased when Bree pulled the dog a safe distance away. “What are you doing here? I thought you were searching the northeast quadrant today.”

Bree’s smile faltered. Hilary always managed to drain her confidence with a relentless determination to bend her to her will. “I was home when the call came in. The brick is crumbling on the tower, and it seemed like a good day to repoint it. I was just about to mix the mortar when Mason called.” Bree stopped and chided herself for babbling like a kid caught playing hooky. Maybe it was time they both realized Rob’s plane might never be found. Not in the northeast quadrant or any other. The forest had swallowed the Bonanza Beechcraft like Superior could swallow a sinking ship.

Hilary’s eyes flashed. “You have more important things to do than to repoint the brick on your lighthouse. Let a professional do it.”

“The last time I checked, my bank balance was screaming for mercy, Hilary.”

Hilary sighed, and she gave a smile that seemed forced. “I’ll pay for it. You promised you’d find them, Bree. It’s been nearly a year. Rob’s birthday is the day after Thanksgiving. I’m counting on giving him a decent burial by then.”

Bree wanted to run away from the admonishment. The graves at Rock Harbor Cemetery were as empty as her heart. Even if she found the bodies to fill those graves, it wouldn’t change things, but at least maybe then she could bring herself to go there to mourn. Besides, Bree was tiring of Hilary’s constant harping on her failure to find them.

“Samson and I are doing the best we can, Hilary. But they could be anywhere. Here in the Kitchigami or maybe even down in Ottawa.”

“My patience is running out.”

Bree had trained her temper to stay on its leash when she was around Hilary, but some days were harder than others. “I want to find them just as much as you do, Hilary. But I’m not Superwoman.” A muscle in Bree’s jaw jerked. Hilary didn’t understand how hard a task Bree had set up for herself. At least there was still a chance for Donovan’s kids. “Look,” she finally said, “I need to get on with the search for the O’Reilly children.”

She turned and rushed into the woods then hurried along the pine-needle path toward Naomi and the group of rangers under the trees. The rush of cool air soothed her hot cheeks. Would she never find them? Never, never, her footsteps answered.

A dark-haired man was giving directions. About six feet tall and stocky, he gestured with broad hands that looked tanned and capable. When Bree approached, he stopped talking, and his gaze settled on her. Bree smiled and nodded a hello as she stepped forward with an outstretched hand.

“You look like the man I need to see,” she said. He looked vaguely familiar, and she wondered if she’d seen him around town. His brown park service uniform matched his hair, and his blue eyes were as keen and intelligent as an Australian shepherd’s. She guessed him to be in his early thirties. “I’m Bree Nicholls with my dog, Samson, and this is Naomi Heinonen and her dog, Charley.”

The blue eyes narrowed when they saw the dogs. “Who called in the SAR?”

“The sheriff did,” one of the men said.

The man pressed his lips together then nodded

with obvious reluctance. “I’m Ranger Kade Matthews. I wouldn’t have called you in yet, but since you’re here we’ll try to use you.”

Kade Matthews. Bree had heard talk of him at the coffee shop. Rumor said he’d given up a promotion that would have taken him to California when his mother died and left him as guardian of his sixteen-year-old sister. It was to his credit that he’d followed his mother’s wishes to have his sister finish school here, though Bree pitied the poor girl. Who would want him as a guardian? She’d run into his kind before, law-enforcer types who wanted to run the show their way even if it cost lives.

“Has anyone found a trail yet?” Bree’s gaze wandered toward the gloom of the thickly wooded forest, and she shuffled her feet. The setup always took too long, in her opinion. While people stood around discussing where to start and how to begin, Samson could be homing in on the scent. She knew organization was important, but there was a limit.

Ranger Matthews shook his head. “Not a hint of one. But we’re down to the wire here. The little boy’s diabetes is a bad case. I’ve divided the search area into quadrants. The board is over there.” He pointed to the trailer set up as a command post. “You and your team can take quadrant two.”

“We find our dogs more effective if they’re allowed to scent on an article of the victim’s then follow where the scent leads. Donovan already gave us—”

The ranger interrupted with another shake of his head. “It’s not an efficient way to search. I need to know who’s where.”

Bree hunched her shoulders and gave Naomi a helpless look. Why did she find it so impossible anymore to speak her mind? When she had first met Rob, her nickname at school was “Brassy Bree” because she had the nerve to do anything she was dared to do. Now she wavered when asked what she wanted to drink. She wanted to argue, but her mouth refused to open.

“We’ve only got a few more hours of daylight left,” Ranger Matthews said. “The sheriff is in the camper briefing the searchers. Please join them.”

Thank goodness Mason was here. Bree left the arrogant ranger and went to find her brother-in-law in the camp. Naomi trailed behind her, pausing to say something to Donovan, and Bree wondered at her friend’s reluctance to leave him.

The camper sat along the side of the parking lot. It hadn’t been leveled and tilted heavily to the right. The silver siding bore scratches and gouges from its many brushes with tree branches and thorny shrubs. The door to the camper opened as Bree approached and Mason stepped out.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Mason said. Sheriff of Kitchigami County, Mason was thickly built and good-natured, a mellow, golden retriever sort of man instead of the pit bull some in Kitchigami County thought a sheriff ought to be.