Missing In The Mountains. Julie Anne Lindsey

       Chapter Three

      Sawyer didn’t sleep. Emma had taken the barely manageable wreckage of his life and flipped it on its head. She might as well have flipped him on his head. He was a father.

      The words had circled endlessly in his mind as he pored over the contents of Sara’s notebook and made multiple trips down the hallway to check on Emma and Henry. His son.

      A son he hadn’t even known existed until a few hours ago. He might’ve never known about Henry at all if something horrible hadn’t happened to Sara, forcing Emma to reach out for help. And Henry could’ve grown up thinking his father was the kind of man who would run out on a woman and his son.

      It made him madder every time he thought about it.

      He’d nearly missed the most important part of his life because pride had stopped him from returning Emma’s call. And it sure wouldn’t have killed her to add the life-changing detail to her message.

      The glow of a pending sunrise hovered on the horizon when he finally put Sara’s notebook on the kitchen table and went to make coffee. Down the hall, he heard the stirring sounds of Emma and his baby. Sawyer set the coffee to brew, then opened the refrigerator. By the time Emma and Henry emerged from their shared room, Sawyer had a simple breakfast prepared for two. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Restless hands.”

      Emma stopped at the kitchen’s edge, Henry on one hip. She’d dressed in nice-fitting blue jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt that hugged all her new curves in the nicest of ways. Her straight brown hair hung over her shoulders and feathered across her forehead.

      Sawyer longed to run his fingers through the strands and pull her against him. He wanted to comfort her. To make promises for Sara’s safety that he couldn’t keep. He’d promised to find her, but if he didn’t do that fast... His mind wandered to images of his fallen team.

      “You didn’t sleep,” Emma said, fastening Henry into a high chair.

      “Rarely do.” He lifted a pan full of eggs from the stove and flicked the burner off, forcing his thoughts back to the present. “Hungry?”

      “I don’t know.” She went to the counter to make a bottle for Henry. A moment later she took the seat beside the high chair and poised the bottle to Henry’s lips. “I feel like none of this is real. Like I’m waiting to wake up from a nightmare.”

      Sawyer cleared his throat. “You should try to put a little something in your stomach.”

      Henry sucked greedily on the bottle, peering at Sawyer with big blue eyes. His denim overalls had little horses embroidered on the knees, and his tiny brown socks were printed to look like cowboy boots.

      Sawyer’s hands itched to hold him, but he divided the eggs onto two plates instead, then poured twin cups of coffee for Emma and himself. The idea of holding something as precious as Henry frightened him, and Sawyer was rarely afraid. He took a seat beside Emma at the table and wrapped calloused palms around the small white mug. His hands had done awful things in the name of freedom. His hands were meant for hard labor, for holding rifles and following orders.

      Emma took a slice of plain toast from the pile he’d plated and set between them, and bit into the corner. “What did you think of Sara’s notebook? It was hidden so it must be important, right?”

      “Maybe.” Sawyer dug a fork into his breakfast. “Sara works at a bank, right?”

      “Credit union,” Emma said. “She’s an account specialist, and she had that notebook with her all day before she was taken. I found it hidden in a basket of dirty clothes. She must’ve put it there when she realized that man was coming for her.”

      Sawyer cleaned his plate and grabbed a second slice of toast. “I want to visit her office today. I wasted a ton of time overlooking the obvious. I was looking at the numbers like a soldier. Trying to solve them like a cipher. First, I assumed they were a code. When that didn’t work, I imagined them as dates and times or map coordinates, addresses, you name it.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Eventually I remembered Sara works at the credit union. Those numbers are probably a list of accounts. She’s just jammed them all together, probably to disguise them.”

      Emma finished her toast and took away the empty baby bottle. “What are you going to do at the credit union?”

      “I want to find out if she was working on any special projects. If any accounts or customers might’ve been giving her trouble, and if she seemed like herself the last few times she was in. I’d also really like to get a look at her desk. See if she kept any more notebooks like that one.” He tipped his head toward the book on the table.

      Emma unbuckled Henry from the high chair. “The police will probably be asking the same things today. The staff will be leery and guarded after that. Everyone loves Sara, and they don’t know you. I doubt anyone will be candid with a stranger given what’s happened.” She turned Henry against her chest and patted his back. “I’ll go. They know me. I’ll ask to see her desk and try to collect anything that might be of interest. Then we can go through it here in privacy. If we find anything that leads to more specific questions, we can go back after lunch and ask.”

      Sawyer frowned. “I think you’d better let me be the face of this for you. As it is, whoever took Sara doesn’t seem interested in you, and I’d rather you not get involved. Her abductor didn’t even search the house while he was here. His mission was pointed. Not at you, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

      Emma chewed her lip, cheeks flushed with distress. “I’m Sara’s only sister and I live with her. How long do you really think it will take before he comes for me? For Henry? If she doesn’t give up whatever it is that he wants from her?”

      Sawyer locked his jaw. The abductor would be smart to use Sara’s family as leverage if she gave him any trouble. Sawyer’s captors had tried the same thing. Eliminating his men one by one, using their allegiances to one another to find the weakest link. But there had been no weak link, and they had died. One by one. “All the more reason for you to stay out of sight.”

      “But if Sara was keeping a secret book of account numbers,” Emma said, “then someone at the credit union might know something about her kidnapping, and I don’t want to draw any attention that will keep me from getting a look at her desk. You—” she lifted a narrow finger at him “—draw attention.”

      Sawyer sucked his teeth. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. His six-foot-two-inch frame had been thickened, hardened and cultivated during his time in the service. The added scars and tattoos only served to enhance his dangerous appearance. Slowly, he relaxed against the seat back. He didn’t like it, but she had a point, and while he would have preferred to go in and throw some weight around, Emma’s idea wasn’t a bad one.