Hard Core Law

“Drink up. You need it worse than I do.”

He stared at it. And at her.

She suddenly didn’t look like a college student. He noticed the little laugh lines at the corner of her eyes and how deep a green they were. It took him all this time to realize she was wearing a Waco Fire Department T-shirt under the baggy scrub top. Something he’d never seen her wear before.

She threw the whiskey back and poured herself another. “Am I drinking alone?”

He swirled the liquid, took a whiff. That was enough for him. Clearheaded. Ready to get on the road. That’s what he needed more than the sting and momentary warmth the shot would provide.

Tracey threw the second shot back, closing her eyes and letting the glass tip on its side. Her eyes popped open as if she’d been startled. Then they dropped to the phone that was resting next to his hand, vibrating.

Her hand covered the cell.

His hand covered hers.

“Wait. Three rings. It’ll allow the FBI time to get their game face on.”

Ring three he uncovered her hand and slid through the password, then pushed Speaker.

“Time for round one, Ranger Parker. You get a new phone from a store in Richland Mall. We’ll contact you there in half an hour. Bring the woman.”

The line disconnected.

“Do they really think that no one is listening to those instructions he just gave us?” Tracey asked.

“We follow everything he says. He’ll try to get us clear of everyone. We get the phone, but the next time he makes contact—before we do anything else—we get proof of life.” Josh dropped the phone in his shirt pocket realizing that the kidnappers had just made Tracey a vital part of their plan. “I hoped they’d leave you out of this. We just need to know both kids are okay before I argue to take you out of the equation.”

“Of course.” She hurried around the end of the breakfast bar, grabbing the counter as she passed.

“You look a little wobbly. You up for this?”

“You probably should have stopped me from drinking alcohol when I have a head injury and they gave me pain meds.” Tracey touched her swollen cheek and the side of her head, then winced.

Josh held up a finger, delaying their departure. He walked around her and pulled an ice pack from the freezer, tossing her an emergency compress. “This should help a little.” Then he pulled insulin cartridges from the fridge, stuffing them inside Jackson’s travel and emergency supplies bag.

Instead of her cheekbone, Tracey dropped the cold compress on her forehead and slid it over her eyes. “You’re right.” She took off to the front door. “You should definitely drive.”

Proof of life. That’s what they needed. He looked around his home. Different from the madhouse an hour ago. Different because the housekeeper had come by this morning. Different because Gwen was no longer a part of it.

Different because Tracey was.

Chapter Five (#ulink_8c53c2d2-36bd-5b06-8c3f-879b8933abca)

Josh wandered through Richland Mall with the fingers of one hand interlocked with Tracey’s. With the other he held the new phone securely in its sack. No one had the number so the kidnappers couldn’t use it for a conversation. He expected someone to bump into him. Or drop a note. Maybe catch their line of sight, giving them an envelope.

“Hell, I don’t know what they plan on doing. The dang thing isn’t even charged.”

“You’ve said that a couple of times now,” Tracey acknowledged. “My head is absolutely killing me and I’m starting to see two of everything. Can we get a bottle of water?”

“Sure.”

He kept his eyes open and wouldn’t let go of Tracey as he paid for the water at a candy store. She looked like a hospital volunteer in the navy blue scrub top.

“Josh, you are making my hand hurt as much as my head.” She tugged a little at his thumb.

“Sorry. I just can’t—”

“I know. You’re afraid they’ll grab me. I get it. But my hand needs circulation. Come on. Let’s park it on that bench.”

He looked in every direction for something suspicious or a charging station for the phone. Whatever or whoever was coming for them could be any of the people resting on another bench or walking by.

“Here, I’m done. Drink the rest.” She capped the bottle and tried to hand it to him.

“No thanks.”

“If I drink it, I’ll have to leave your side for a few and head into the restroom all alone. I know you don’t want that.”

“Then throw it away. No one’s telling you to drink it.” He watched the young man with the baby stroller until he moved in the opposite direction.

“Lighten up, Mack,” a voice said directly behind them. “Don’t turn around.”

Tracey stiffened next to him, the bottle of water hitting the floor. A clear indication that she recognized the voice. The guy behind him tapped on Josh’s shoulder with a phone.

“Pass me the one you just bought.”

Josh forced himself not to look at the man. No mirrored surfaces were nearby. The guy even covered the phone before it got close enough to see his face in the black reflection of the screen.

“That’s good, Major. You’re doing good. Now, I know you’re concerned about your kids. You can see them when you play the video in about twenty seconds. Just let me get through this service hallway. Yeah, you’ve got a choice—let me go or follow and lose any chance of ever seeing your brats.” The kidnapper tapped the top of Josh’s head. “Count to twenty. Talk to ya soon.”

Josh had his hands ready to push up from the bench and tackle the guy to the ground.

“No.” Tracey pulled him back to the bench. “You heard him. He means it. We have to stay here and let him walk away. You promised to do whatever it took. Remember? So please just turn the phone on and get their instructions.”

He listened to Tracey and stayed put. The phone had been handed to them with gloves. Most likely no prints, so he turned it on. He clicked through the menu, finding the gallery.

There were several pictures of the twins playing in a room—sort of like a day care crowded with toys. The video shattered his already-broken heart. Sage was crying. Jackson was “vroom vrooming” a car across his leg and through the air.

A voice off camera—the same as behind them—told them to say hi to their daddy.

“I want to go home.” Sage threw a plush toy toward the person holding the phone. “Is Trace Trace picking us up?”

Tracey covered her mouth, holding her breath again.

“Can you remember what you’re supposed to say? You can go home after you tell your daddy,” the kidnapper lied.

The twins nodded their heads, tucking their chins to their chests and sticking out their bottom lips. They might be fraternal, but they did almost everything together.

“Daddy, Mack says to go to... I don’t remember.” Jackson turned to his sister, scratching his head with the truck. “Do you remember?”