Montana Secrets Page 16

  “We’ll search farther out,” the oldest grandson said, and the three took off in separate directions.

  “I’ll check the dairy barn,” Mr. Mac said. “George and Greg, check the chicken coop and pigsty. Catherine and Mr. Gallagher can look nearest the house.”

  The farmer handed them flashlights, and the group broke up to search.

  Ryan stayed with Cat. He’d given her the flashlight, but her hand shook so hard, the bobbing light proved useless. His heart beating in his throat with fear for his child, he drew Cat to him and wrapped his arms around her. She was shivering, as much from fright as the chilly night air.

  “We’ll find her,” he said in the most convincing tone he could summon. “She hasn’t been out of Mrs. Mac’s sight for more than half an hour. With those short little legs, she can’t go far.”

  “Unless someone took her.”

  “Shh.” He stroked her hair, then squeezed her tight. “Don’t even think that. We’ll find her.”

  “But she’s so little, and the farm’s such a big place.” She hiccuped, swallowing a sob.

  Ryan didn’t even want to think about the wild animals that prowled the surrounding forest. “Then we’d better start looking. Give me the light, and you hold on to me.”

  An hour later, after searching beneath every shrub and tree around the house and the length of the drive to the main road, Ryan discovered his confidence in finding Megan severely shaken.

  “Let’s get back to the house,” he said. “One of the others has probably found her already, and they’re all drinking hot chocolate in Mrs. Mac’s kitchen.”

  Although he tried to sound reassuring, his voice rang hollowly in his ears. Cat’s exhaustion was evident as she struggled to put one foot in front of the other.

  When they reached the front porch, the others were there ahead of them.

  “No sign of her anywhere,” Mr. Mac announced grimly.

  The screen door slammed, and Jessica, barefoot in her nightgown, pulled on Mrs. Mac’s sleeve.

  “Go back to bed,” her grandmother ordered. “You’ll catch pneumonia out here in the night air.”

  “But, Gramma—”

  “No buts, young lady. March.”

  Jessica turned to go back in the house, and Ryan spied the stuffed animal in her hand.

  “Wait,” he called to her. “What have you got?”

  “It’s Megan’s teddy.” The little girl held the bear in front of her. “That’s what I was trying to tell Gramma. Somebody sticked him.”

  Ryan’s heart froze at the sight of a folded piece of paper attached to the bear’s chest with a safety pin and fluttering in the breeze. Written in bold block letters across the front of the note was a name.

  Ryan Christopher.

  Chapter Eleven

  The nondescript middle-aged man stood in front of the lighted shop window on the New York City street. With his hands clasped behind his back, he appeared to study the specialty cheeses and Italian sausages arrayed behind the glass. Passersby paid him little attention.

  When the pay phone on the street corner rang, the man reached it in three quick strides.

  “Do you have them?” Derrick Hutton asked after the caller had identified himself.

  “Not all of them.”

  “What do you mean, not all?”

  “Christopher, the woman and her father had left the ranch by the time we arrived. We approached on a logging road from the east, hoping to surprise them. They had already left by the main road.”

  Hutton silently cursed the incompetence of his operatives. “If you didn’t get them, who else is there?”

  “The little girl.”

  “Who?”

  “Ryan Christopher’s four-year-old daughter. Yacoub grabbed her at the neighbors’ while the rest of us hit the ranch.”

  “What good is a child?” Hutton’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “She can tell us nothing we need to know.”

  “She is bait for bigger fishes. We will use her to draw the others into our net.”

  “Just make certain they don’t bring the authorities with them,” Hutton warned. “You must grab Christopher fast. Once you have him, interrogate him within an inch of his life. Find out what he knows and who he’s told.”

  “It’s been five years. If he’s a threat, wouldn’t he have blown the whistle on you by now?”

  “That’s what I must determine,” Hutton said. “It’s possible he knows nothing. It’s more likely he’s set the FBI and the military on our trail.”

  “Then why have we not seen them?”

  Hutton snorted. “Do you know nothing? They could be waiting to ascertain our plans, to widen their trap.”

  “And once I’ve learned everything Christopher has to tell us?”

  Hutton didn’t hesitate. “Kill them all, the whole cursed family. Let their deaths be a warning to those who would betray us.”

  Hutton slammed the receiver into its cradle and stomped toward his apartment, his interest in cheese and sausages forgotten.

  CAT PUSHED past Ryan and plucked Megan’s teddy bear from Jessica’s hands. With trembling fingers, she ripped the crudely addressed note from the animal’s chest and opened it.

  The one-line message was in Arabic.

  Her knees would have given way if Ryan hadn’t slid his arm around her in support. She handed him the paper.

  “What does it say?” Cat asked.

  A muscle ticked rapidly in Ryan’s tightly clenched jaw. “Nothing. It’s just a signature.”

  “Whose?”

  He inhaled a deep breath, as if steadying himself before he spoke. “Righteous Sword.”

  “Oh, God,” Cat moaned. “The terrorists. They have my baby?”

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Mac demanded. “Has someone kidnapped the girl?”

  Despite her overwhelming fear for Megan, Cat knew she had to stay calm. Dissolving into hysterics wouldn’t help her daughter. She gazed at the circle of worried MacIntosh faces that surrounded her, not knowing how to explain what had happened. The more she told them, the more danger they faced, but they knew too much already to keep them in the dark. She glanced up at Ryan. “We have to tell them. We’ll need all the help we can get to look for her.”

  Ryan was staring at the teddy bear. “Where did you find this, Jessica?”

  “On the back porch.”

  Cat shook her head in denial and fought to hold herself together, afraid if she stopped to think about her daughter’s circumstances, she’d shatter into a million pieces. “It wasn’t there earlier when we searched around the house. We would have seen it.”

  “Let’s go inside,” Mrs. Mac offered. “We’ll settle nothing out here in the cold. I’ll fix something hot to drink, and you can tell us what’s going on.”

  “I should call the sheriff first,” Mr. Mac said.

  “No,” Ryan said sharply. “Not yet.”

  “We have to do something,” Cat cried. “We can’t just let those murderers have Megan.”

  At her words, George and Greg exchanged glances, then ordered their teenage sons to return home. As soon as the boys had driven away on the ATVs, Mrs. Mac whisked Jessica off to bed, and the adults gathered in the kitchen.

  Cat moved like a sleepwalker, unable to comprehend the horror that had struck her. When Ryan pulled out a chair at the table and nudged her into it, she sat without resistance, feeling again the erratic sensations of hot and cold and wondering once more if she was going into shock.

  Mr. and Mrs. Mac, George and Greg joined her around the table. Ryan remained standing.

  “We didn’t want to involve you in this,” he said, “but since you know so much already, I’ll have to tell the rest. Then, Mr. Mac, you’ll understand my reluctance to involve the sheriff.”

  Without wasting words, Ryan filled them in on his survival of the embassy bombing, his attempt to identify the terrorists and Righteous Sword’s subsequent discovery of his true identity. Cat watched him, amazed at his coolness while
his daughter was in the hands of terrorists, until she looked into his eyes. The raw pain and guilt reflected there made her look away.

  “Surely they won’t harm a little girl?” Mrs. Mac said when he’d finished his tale.

  “They want to find out what I know about them,” Ryan told her, “and then, if they follow the pattern they’ve used in the past, they will probably kill my entire family as a vendetta.”

  The kindly woman’s elderly face paled. “And my family?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. But for your sakes, Cat and I should leave as soon as possible.”

  The conversation swirled around Cat like a fog, barely penetrating the icy fear that gripped her. The more she tried not to think of her daughter in the hands of strangers, the stronger the picture formed in her mind. Aching to hold Megan and keep her safe, she wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to quell her shaking.

  “Where will you go from here?” Mr. Mac was asking Ryan. “And what will you do about Megan?”

  “I’m taking Cat into town,” Ryan said. “We’ll pick up her father there, and I’ll ask Todd Brewster to drive them to the safe house.”

  His intention registered through the fog of fear that enveloped her.

  “No!” Cat jumped from her chair. “Todd can take Dad to safety, but I’m not going, not as long as Megan’s out there somewhere. I won’t turn my back on my daughter.”

  Ryan grasped her shoulders, lowered his face close to hers and spoke in a low and pleading tone. “We don’t know what the kidnappers want. That isn’t a ransom note.” He nodded toward the torn and crumpled sheet of paper she still clutched in her hand. “Maybe they’ll exchange Megan for me.”

  When she’d thought the pain could be no worse, fresh agony stabbed through her. Ryan had just returned to her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

  “We have to get her back,” Cat said with unbending resolve. She reached up and placed her hand over his on her shoulder. “And keep you safe. Can’t your Colonel Wentworth help us?”

  Mr. Mac, his weathered face grim, stood and spoke to George and Greg. “You two should go home to your families. George, take Jessica with you. I don’t want either of you involved any more in this.”

  “What about you and Mom?” Greg asked, obviously reluctant to abandon his parents.

  Mr. Mac shook his head. “We’ll be all right.”

  Ryan thanked the MacIntosh sons for their help in the search, but Cat was so dazed she barely noticed when the men left the room.

  “Now,” Mr. Mac said, once his boys were gone, “what can Myra and I do to help?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want to place you at any more risk. I’m sorry we had to involve you at all.”

  Mr. Mac scowled. “I don’t hold with terrorists. And I care even less for scoundrels who steal children. If people like us don’t stand up against ’em, who will?”

  “He’s right,” Mrs. Mac agreed with an emphatic nod. “Just tell us what to do.”

  “We must make sure Gabriel’s safe,” Ryan said.

  “But we can’t tell him Megan’s been kidnapped,” Cat added quickly. “His blood pressure can’t take it.”

  “You can tell him about me,” Ryan said, “and about the safe house. Tell him Cat and Megan and I will meet him there tomorrow.”

  “He’ll be fit to be tied once he finds out the truth,” Mr. Mac warned.

  Ryan nodded. “I’m hoping by this time tomorrow we’ll have Megan back safe, so there’s no need to worry him.”

  Mrs. Mac stood and switched off the coffeemaker. “We can drive Gabe to your safe house ourselves. No need to involve Mr. Brewster.”

  Tears flooded Cat’s eyes at the down-to-earth goodness of her neighbors. “It will be a relief to know that Dad, at least, is safe.”

  “When you get to town,” Ryan said, “could you place a call for me?”

  Mr. Mac looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You think these Righteous Sword devils have tapped our phone?”

  “I don’t want to take that chance.” Ryan pulled a pencil from his pocket, grabbed a paper napkin and printed a number on it. “This is Colonel Wentworth’s private line. Tell him what’s happened here tonight.”

  “Where can he get in touch with you?” Mr. Mac asked.

  “We’ll be at the ranch,” Ryan said. “We’ll wait there in case the kidnappers try to get in touch with us. But that phone may be tapped, too. The colonel will have to use his own judgment. Just tell him I’m counting on him to help me get my daughter back.”

  Mrs. Mac closed her arms around Cat in a warm hug. “Stay safe, Catherine. We’ll look after your father. And we’ll pray for Megan’s safe return.”

  Numb with despair, Cat allowed Ryan to lead her to the car.

  IN THE DIM LIGHT of the SUV, Ryan glanced at Cat, who hadn’t moved or spoken since they left the MacIntosh place. His fear for Megan gnawed at him, and Cat’s obvious pain broke his heart. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” The look she gave him was stunned, as if she didn’t know who or where she was.

  “I should never have come back. None of this would have happened if I’d just told Wentworth no.” Guilt ate at him like acid. His presence had caused his daughter’s kidnapping and placed Cat at risk. He was too late to protect Megan, although he’d do everything in his power to get her back, but he could still save Cat. “It’s not too late for you to go with Mr. and Mrs. Mac. I can take you back to them.”

  As if snapping out of a trance, she shook her head. “I’m not leaving Megan.”

  “We could be driving straight into a trap.”

  Her eyes flashed like blue fire. “Do you think I care what happens to me when those animals have my baby?”

  “We can’t help Megan if we’re dead.”

  She couldn’t deny the truth of that. “So how do we stay alive?”

  “Do you still have that gun in the glove box?”

  She reached over, opened the compartment and removed the gun. She offered it to him.

  Ryan shook his head. “You keep it. We’ll be most vulnerable when we return to the house. They might be waiting for us.”

  “Then why are we going back there?”

  “I’m guessing that’s where they’ll try to contact us.”

  “To demand a ransom?”

  Racked by guilt, he couldn’t face her. He kept his attention on the road, where thick fog was swiftly obscuring the highway. “You know what they want.”

  “Us.”

  He nodded, reached over and squeezed her hand. “But they’re not going to get us. We’ll take their call and listen to their instructions. There are millions of acres of national forest out there, and the terrorists could be anywhere. So we have to figure out where they’re hiding before we can rescue Megan.”

  “We will get her back, won’t we?” Cat’s voice broke on the question, and Ryan cursed himself again for what he’d done to her and his daughter.

  “Or die trying,” he promised.

  Cat sat huddled in her seat, her jacket pulled tight around her, her eyes glazed as if in shock. More than anything, he wanted to stop the car and hold her. To reassure her that they’d find Megan. But he knew too well the chances of recovering his daughter alive and unharmed were slim. And he didn’t dare express his fears to Cat. She was barely keeping hold of her sanity as it was.

  In the thickening fog, the drive to High Valley took three times longer than usual, and every minute was agony. Ryan’s arms and shoulders ached from tension as he gripped the wheel, and his efforts to see through the soupy mist had created a pounding headache. Worse than his physical discomfort, though, was the pain in his heart. The empty child carrier in the back seat reproached him, and a mental image of Megan, laughing and smiling, patting his face with her chubby hands, made him want to weep with fear for her and rage at her captors.

  Cat hadn’t blamed him, not once, but he wouldn’t fault her if she hated him.

  H
e hated himself.

  Even if they were successful in retrieving Megan unharmed and escaping to the safe house, Cat, Megan and Gabe would never be safe until every member of Righteous Sword was apprehended. As slippery as the terrorist cell had been so far, capturing all of them any time soon seemed unlikely. However things played out, the situation would be lose–lose for the Ericksons. And equally bad for Ryan.

  Anger boiled within him. The terrorists hadn’t killed him—not yet, at least—but they’d effectively killed his dreams. How could he and Cat and Megan ever hope to become a family when Ryan’s return had placed them in constant danger and driven them from their home?

  The open gate to High Valley loomed out of the fog, and Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. For the last few miles, his visibility had been so severely restricted, he’d had to inch his way forward to keep from plunging off the side of the mountain. He eased the vehicle through the gate and stopped.

  Realizing they needed a plan, he shook off his self-pity and made himself think.

  “We can’t just waltz into the ranch,” Ryan told her. “We have to make certain no one’s waiting for us.”

  “How?”

  “The fog will help conceal my approach. I’ll park the car away from the house and sneak up without being seen.”

  He started the car slowly up the drive and strained to recognize landmarks in the shrouding mist. Before he reached the final bend in the road, he pulled onto the shoulder and stopped again. “I can’t go any farther without the headlights announcing our arrival. And it’s too foggy to drive in the dark.”

  Cat reached for the door handle. “We can follow the drive on foot.”

  With a hand on her shoulder, he stopped her. “You’re staying here.”

  “I have my gun—”

  “Let me check out the house first, then I’ll come back for you.”

  “But you might need help. And you’re not armed.”

  “If it’s a trap, I don’t want both of us walking into it. Once I’ve gone, curl up on the floor where you’re hidden and wait. If I’m not back in an hour, take the car and go for the sheriff.”