Egan Cassidy's Kid. BEVERLY BARTON
waited by the mahogany secretary, the telephone in her hand. Maggie hesitated for a split second, then took the phone, breathed deeply and placed the receiver to her ear. Janice curled her fingers into a tiny waving motion as she started to leave the room, but Maggie shook her head and motioned for her friend to stay.
“This is Maggie Douglas.” She was amazed by how calm her voice sounded.
“Hello, Maggie. It’s Egan Cassidy.”
“Yes, Janice told me.”
“I know you’re probably puzzled by this phone call.”
“Yes, I am. After fifteen years, I never expected to hear from you.” Why was he calling now? she asked herself. Today of all days?
“I need to ask you some questions,” Egan said.
“About what?”
“About your son. You do have a son, don’t you? A fourteen-year-old son named Bentley Tyson Douglas.”
“What do you know about Bent?” She couldn’t hide the hysteria in her voice. Had Egan found out that he had a son? Had he somehow talked Bent into going away with him? Was that why Egan was calling, to tell her that he had claimed his son?
“Then you do have a son?”
“Yes, I—is Bent with you? Did you find out that—”
“Bent isn’t with me,” Egan told her. “But your son is missing, isn’t he?”
“If he isn’t with you, then how do you know—”
“How long has he been missing?”
“Since this morning. I dropped him off at school and no one has seen him since.”
“Damn!”
“Egan, please, tell me what’s going on. How did you know about Bent and how did you find out he was missing?”
Long pause. Hard breathing. Although they were physically hundreds of miles apart, Maggie could feel the tension in Egan, could sense some sort of emotional struggle going on inside him.
“Egan, you’re frightening me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep and low and the sentiment truly genuine. “Maggie, I need to know something and it’s important that you tell me the truth.”
The rush of blood pounded in her head. Her heartbeat accelerated rapidly. Adrenaline shot through her like a fast acting narcotic. “Ask me.”
“Is Bent my son?”
Maggie closed her eyes. A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. Janice rushed to her side and draped her arm around Maggie’s waist.
“Are you all right?” Janice whispered. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
Maggie shook her head, then opened her eyes, her vision blurred by the sheen of moisture. “Yes, Bent is your son.”
Egan groaned. Maggie bit down on her bottom lip. The sound from Egan that came through the telephone was that of a wounded animal. A ferocious hurt. An angry growl.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Egan said. “I know what has happened to Bent—”
Maggie cried out.
“Don’t panic. For now, he’s safe. Do you hear me? He hasn’t been harmed. But in order to keep him safe, you’re going to have to let me handle things. Do you understand?”
“No,” Maggie said. “No, I don’t understand anything. Where is Bent? What’s happened to him?”
Janice gasped. “He knows where Bent is?”
“Who’s that?” Egan asked. “Who’s there with you?”
“Janice Deweese. In case you’ve forgotten, Janice is my dearest friend and my assistant at Rare Finds.”
“Then you can trust Janice?”
“Yes, of course I can trust her.”
“With your life? With Bent’s life?”
“Yes.”
“I assume you’ve alerted the local authorities,” Egan said. “But what I’m going to tell you, I want you to keep it to yourself. Or at least between you and Janice.”
“God in heaven, Egan, will you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Bent’s life could depend on your following my instructions, on letting me handle things without involving any law enforcement other than the ones I chose to bring in on this.”
“Bent’s life could—” Maggie choked on the tears lodged in her throat. Her son’s life was in danger and Egan knew from what or from whom that danger came. How was it possible that Egan was involved in Bent’s disappearance when he’d never been a part of Bent’s life? She didn’t understand any of this. Nothing made sense. It was as if she’d suddenly passed through some invisible barrier straight into the Twilight Zone.
“Maggie!” Egan demanded her attention.
“I don’t understand anything. None of this makes any sense to me. Explain to me what’s happening. Where is Bent? Why…why—”
“Don’t do anything. And don’t speak to anyone else tonight. If there are people in your house, get rid of them. I’ll fly into Parsons City tonight and I’ll explain everything to you when I get there.”
“Egan, wait—”
“I’ll get your son back for you, Maggie. I’ll bring him home. I promise you that.”
“Egan!”
The mocking hum of the dial tone told Maggie that Egan had hung up. She slumped down in the chair at the secretary, covered her face with her hands and moaned.
Janice knelt in front of Maggie, then pried Maggie’s hands from her face. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Maggie admitted. “Somehow Egan found out that Bent is his son and he knows that Bent is missing. Egan said…he said that he knew what had happened to Bent and that he wanted me to let him handle everything. He promised me that he’d bring Bent home.”
“Is Bent with Egan?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Maggie stared straight through Janice. “Egan is coming here tonight to tell me what happened to our son.”
Bent glared at the plate of food his jailer had brought to him several hours ago. He was hungry, but he hadn’t touched the fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. He had no way of knowing whether or not his food had been poisoned. But why his captors would choose to poison him, he didn’t know. They could easily have killed him a dozen different ways by now.
Although they had taken his book bag and his cellular phone, they hadn’t robbed him of either his wallet or his wristwatch. And other than drugging him initially in order to kidnap him and keeping him bound and gagged in the car and then on the airplane, his abductors hadn’t laid a finger on him. Of course, they had blindfolded him when they’d taken him off the plane.
He had heard one of them, the guy who’d approached him in the school parking lot, tell the other one, a younger, more clean-cut man, that the general didn’t want the kid hurt.
“He’s waiting for the kid’s old man to show up first.”
Bent didn’t understand. What did his father have to do with his kidnapping? He hadn’t seen Gil Douglas in over a year. And he hadn’t spoken to him in three months. After his parents’ divorce his relationship with his dad had slowly deteriorated. And it wasn’t as if his father was rich. Gil spent every dime he made, as a chemical engineer, on his new wife and two-year-old daughter.
Nope, it didn’t make any sense at all that his