Christmas Conspiracy. Susan Sleeman
TWELVE
Hot, ugly eyes stared at Rachael from black circles in the gunman’s mask. If he planned to kill her, he needed to do it quickly or she would fight him to the last breath. She’d rather die than see him hurt a child under her care.
She straightened her shoulders and checked on Kelly, asleep in her crib at Rachael’s child development center. Oblivious to the threat, the precious three-month-old pushed her fist under her chin, and soft breaths pursed her lips. She was helpless and depended on Rachael for protection.
The gunman took another step.
Rachael backed up and draped all five feet five inches of her body across the front of Kelly’s crib. “You’ll have to go through me to get to her. I might be small, but I’ll put up a fight.”
“Don’t be a fool.” He jerked his gun toward the wall with brightly painted cubbies holding the belongings of the six infants cared for in this room. “Step away from the baby. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”
Rachael didn’t comply, but memorized his voice—the inflection, the slight rasp. If he got away and left her alive, she could help identity him. But first, she needed to make sure she and Kelly lived.
Rachael tightened her hands on the crib rail, connecting with the solid maple and holding on for dear life. “I’m not moving.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then we do this the hard way.”
“Or you could not do this at all,” she suggested, but he ignored her and took long steps across the room.
Dressed in black, he stood six feet tall and had an athletic build. He wore latex gloves and brandished the gun like he’d held one before. He stepped off and she waited, her eyes fixed on his weapon, expecting it to discharge.
Step by step, he moved across the brightly colored area rug with teddy bears and bunnies that she’d chosen when she’d opened the center three years ago. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected a masked man, intent on kidnapping a precious little baby, would cross this rug.
“Please, don’t do this,” Rachael begged.
He ignored her and kept coming, crossing the room. Thump. Thump. Thump. His hiking boots pounded on the gleaming linoleum, the gun still outstretched in his hands.
Her confidence wavered, and her palms grew moist, the solid rail becoming slick under her hands. Panic stole her breath, and she fought to draw in another one.
Stay calm. Kelly needs you.
The gunman slowed, then stopped in front of her and fixed those burning eyes on hers while pressing the barrel of his gun to her forehead. “Are you ready to cooperate now?”
Fear coursed through her chest, and her hands trembled, but she held her position. Another child’s life wouldn’t end on her watch. The guilt of losing another innocent baby would tear her apart.
She gave a small shake of her head, feeling the gun barrel cold against her skin.
“Fine.” He clamped his free hand on her forearm and spun her swiftly, then snaked his arm around her chest, pinning her arms at her sides and clutching her tight against his body.
The gun no longer at her head, Rachael arched her back and bucked.
His arm held like a vise, tightening, crushing down and bruising her flesh.
She cried out in pain and instantly hated that she’d let him know he’d hurt her.
“You wanted it this way.” He laid his gun on the mattress near Kelly’s sleeper-covered feet before using that hand to dig through his jacket pocket.
The sight of his gun lying so close to Kelly hit Rachael like a physical punch to her gut.
How had this happened? No—how had she let this happen?
As the center’s owner and director, she held the responsibility for Kelly while her mother, Pam, worked. Rachael had wanted to help Pam out today when she’d had to go to work early or risk losing her job, so Rachael had taken Kelly before the center opened. She’d thought it would be fine, but then the first teacher of the day got a flat tire, leaving Rachael alone. And now she’d failed Pam. Failed Kelly.
Rachael had to find a way to save the sweet baby.
But what could she do? She’d already tried everything she could think of. This man wanted Kelly, and he didn’t care what he had to do to get her.
Lord, please. Stop this now, she prayed. Don’t let him take Kelly.
She waited for a bit of calm, maybe peace, but none came. Nothing odd about that. She hadn’t felt true peace since she’d lost her husband and unborn child four years ago. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped to the crib, landing on the pastel teddy bears covering the mattress.
Kelly shifted, drawing her pudgy little legs up tighter under her body.
“I’m so sorry, Kelly,” Rachael whispered.
Her captor tightened his grip while continuing to fumble around behind her. She slowly leaned toward the crib and slid her fingers closer to the gun. Inch by inch she moved. Closer. Closer.
Almost there.
He jerked his hand free of his pocket and karate chopped her forearm. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Please don’t take Kelly,” Rachael begged as a raw ache radiated up her arm.
He ignored her again, shifted to the side, and a sharp pain pierced her arm.
What? He’d injected her with something.
“Don’t worry.” His minty fresh breath crept through her hair as he clamped his arms tighter around her. “When you wake up, I’ll be long gone. Of course, so will Kelly. Have a nice nap now.”
No! She had to get free.
She roared like a fierce mother bear with a threatened cub and put all of her strength into one last attempt. But his arms felt like bands of steel, and she couldn’t break free.
“Shh,” he said. “Just give it a few minutes and you won’t care anymore. The drug is a powerful anesthetic. Takes away all your worries and fears before you sleep. Peaceful, sweet sleep.”
Time seemed to stand still, but Rachael didn’t. She fought hard until the drug he’d put into her body sent waves of relaxation through her muscles.
She whimpered. “Please, I’ll do anything. Give you money. Anything. Don’t take Kelly.”
“Don’t fight the drug,” he said. “You’ll soon be asleep, and all of this will be over.”
Her body grew heavy, and it took effort just to keep her head up. He backed away from the crib. Her