A Cop In Her Stocking. Ann Peterson Voss
for a smile and excused herself. She didn’t like being so cynical, thinking poorly of others’ motives, not trusting anyone at their word, but she couldn’t help it. The last years had bled her dry of trust and optimism, and the past couple of hours didn’t seem likely to change that.
Her throat thickened. Her chest physically hurt with each beat of her heart, and she knew the only thing that would make it stop was clutching Connor close. Standing, she excused herself and walked out of the living room and down the short hall.
She had to get away. Just for a moment. She had to catch her breath. She wanted to be somewhere she could feel closer to her son.
She slipped into Connor’s room and pulled in a deep breath. The place smelled of him, of crayons and Lincoln Logs and the orange-flavored candy he’d accidently gotten stuck in a corner of the carpet. She looked around at his toys, at his unmade bed, at his jammies lying in a wadded-up clump on the floor. For a moment, the walls blurred, the Thomas the Tank Engine clock became merely a smudge of bright reds and blues against the white wall.
She tilted her chin back and did her best to blink away tears. They would find him, wouldn’t they? She had to trust they’d find him. She didn’t know how she’d cope otherwise.
“Meg?”
Her body swayed toward the sound of Ty’s voice and his old nickname for her coming from right behind her. If she turned around, if she reached for him—allowed herself to curl up in his arms, to soak in his comfort, to accept his strength—she knew he’d oblige. He would again promise to find Connor. He’d reassure her that everything would be okay. She wanted those things so badly. She wanted to trust he could provide them.
But she knew things weren’t as simple as that. They never were. To get her son back, she needed to be strong. She couldn’t rely on anyone else to make things okay. She’d known that most of her life. She couldn’t let herself forget it now.
She wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. Pulling in a shuddering breath, she turned around and searched his face, his clear blue eyes, the creases around his mouth, the shadow of stubble beginning to show on his chin. But as much as she wanted to see relief in his eyes and the joy of good news curving his lips, they weren’t there.
She braced herself. “Have you gotten hold of Doug?”
“Still no answer.”
“You tried the cell number?” He nodded.
She dropped her focus to the carpet. Large, colorful Duplo Legos scattered the worn Berber. She had the urge to drop to her knees and fit them together, to fit something together, anything. The minute hand on the train clock clicked forward.
How long she stared at those blocks, she wasn’t sure, but she heard another tick. Then another. She could feel Ty watching her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.
Connor. Out there somewhere. With a stranger.
She felt sick. She felt weak.
She felt angry as hell.
She folded her arms tight across her chest and hung on. “A few years ago, Doug got in some trouble with the law.”
Ty’s brows arched upward, as if he was surprised, but something in his eyes told her the expression was more acting than truth. Of course she’d be naive to think that the news of Doug’s embezzlement and the hell she’d gone through hadn’t reached their hometown. Lake Hubbard had grown a lot over the years, but it still had the feel of a small town. And in small towns, gossip traveled fast.
Gossip or not, she was grateful he didn’t ask questions. She didn’t want to get into the story. Especially with Ty. “He got out of it with a slap on the wrist and swears he’s a model citizen now, but he might not be eager to answer a phone call from police.”
“I see. Would you be willing to give him a call?”
She nodded. She prayed he had taken Connor. At least then she’d know her little boy was safe. She couldn’t rely on Doug for much, but for all his faults, he was truly fond of his son.
“It’s worth a shot. I’ll let Leo know. We can put your phone on speaker.”
“No. I want to make the call alone.”
His lips flattened into a line.
“I’ll use my cell. Please, Ty. This is all…too much.” She gestured to the officers down the hall in the living room. It appeared as though the mayor had left, but the lieutenant, Detective Baker and another detective she didn’t know still milled around the Christmas tree.
She didn’t want any of them listening in on her call to Doug. Whether Doug had Connor or not, he would blame everything on Ty, chalk up everything to their past relationship, as distant a memory as it was. Doug had always felt threatened by Ty, even though she and Ty had broken up long before. Even though she’d married Doug in the end. Sometimes his comments were very hurtful, and she didn’t want them on the speakerphone for all to hear.
Ty finally nodded. “Don’t let him upset you. Tell him it was all my fault. After all, it was.”
She’d seen the video, and she wasn’t so sure of that. Of course he would say the same thing if it wasn’t. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Ty spun around and headed back down the hall. Her cell phone started ringing before she could get the door closed. She fished it out of her pocket with shaking fingers and flipped it open. “Doug?”
“Get the cops out of your apartment.”
Megan shuddered at the low, brutal voice. Not Doug. The kidnapper. It had to be. Somehow he’d gotten the number of her cell phone. And he was watching her apartment.
“Tell them someone you trust has your son.”
She wasn’t sure she could push a single sound from her throat, but somehow she managed. “Who?” There weren’t many people she trusted. And the police had probably checked with everyone she’d put on the list by now.
“A friend. The boy’s father. I don’t care who. Just convince the police they no longer have to look for your son.”
She could hardly breathe.
“Do you want to see your son again?”
“Yes. Okay. I’ll get rid of the police.”
“Then I want you to go to work tonight.”
She couldn’t have heard him right. “Work?”
“You do work for Brilliance Cleaning?”
“Yes.”
“You are scheduled to clean Keating Security tonight?”
He knew everything about her. “Who is this?”
“That’s not your problem. Your problem is that I have your son, and if you don’t do everything I say, you won’t see him again. At least not alive. Understand?”
A scream built in her throat. She pushed it back. “Yes. I understand.”
“While you are cleaning tonight, you will copy their client files off the secure server, including all the specifications of each client’s security system. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She understood perfectly. He was asking her to steal sensitive files. Files that could be used to get into any of the security company’s clients’ businesses and homes undetected. Files that would work like a magic key, allowing him to walk in any of those places he wanted, take anything he wanted and never get caught.
But although she felt a pang of guilt at the idea of stealing the information for him, she wouldn’t let it stop her. In the end, it wasn’t much of a choice. Connor was the only thing she cared about. She would do anything to get him back. “Then what?”
“I’ll tell you after you have the files. Do what I ask, Ms. Garvey. I mean it. Or Santa won’t be coming to