Christmas Kidnapping

She leaned forward and squinted at the image. It was of a white man, fairly young, with light brown hair and a sharp nose. But nothing about him looked familiar. She shook her head. “I don’t recognize him. But I wasn’t really paying attention in the restaurant and his back was to me.”

“That’s all right,” Jack said. “I got a good look at him and this is the guy.” He clicked to the next screen and she read the name there. Anderson.

“Is that a first or a last name?” she asked.

“We don’t know.” Jack scanned the few lines of information under the name. “We don’t know a lot, but we suspect he’s connected to a terrorist cell we’ve been tracking here in Colorado.”

“Terrorists? You think Ian has been kidnapped by terrorists?” The knowledge refused to sink in. What would terrorists want with her little boy? Tears stung her eyes. Where was Ian now? What were they doing to him? If they hurt him...

Jack gripped her hand, pulling her back from the nightmare of horror she was capable of imagining. “We’re going to find them, and we’re going to get Ian back,” he said.

She nodded, struggling for control. “Yes.” That belief was the only life preserver she had. “We’re going to get him back.”

Jack turned to stare at the picture on the computer screen once more, and when he spoke, his voice was colder and harder than she had imagined it could be. “Tomorrow Anderson and his friends will be sorry they ever messed with me.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_dcaa4abe-64d5-578e-b750-b586e1cfc49e)

The call came at 6:13 a.m., forwarded from Andrea’s home phone to Jack’s cell. He sat up on the sofa, where he’d fallen into an exhausted doze sometime after three, and snatched up the phone as the last notes of “What It’s Like” sounded. “Hello?”

“Agent Prescott. Are you alone?”

The voice wasn’t familiar, and the echoing quality of it made Jack suspect it was being filtered electronically to disguise it. “Andrea is here with me, but no one else.”

“Good. Let me talk to Dr. McNeil.”

Andrea was already standing in the doorway to the bedroom, staring at him with equal parts hope and dread. Jack held the phone out to her. “It’s him. Or somebody with him.”

She pressed the phone to her ear, clutching it with both hands. “Hello? Is Ian all right? Please let me speak to Ian.”

“Your son is safe. For now. Do you have the money we asked for?”

“I’m going to the bank to get it as soon as they open. I don’t keep that kind of cash in the house.”

“That’s fine. You haven’t told anyone about what happened?”

“Only Jack. And my babysitter and her husband know, but only because she was there when he was taken. She doesn’t remember much and we made them both swear not to tell.” The words came in a rush, all her anxiety translated to speech. She wanted these men to know she was cooperating with them. She would do anything to see her son safe.

“Good. I’m going to give you an address. Write this down.”

“Hold on. I need paper and a pen.” She motioned and Jack thrust a notepad and pen into her hand. She copied down the address the man dictated and read it back to him. “Where is this?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like Durango.”

“It isn’t. But I’m sure you can find it. Bring the money to this address by noon today. Agent Prescott can come with you, but no one else. If we even suspect police or FBI or anyone else is around, we’ll slit Ian’s throat and let him bleed to death right in front of you.” He ended the call.

Andrea sank to the floor, her legs no longer able to support her. Jack lowered himself beside her and pulled her close. “I heard,” he said. “He’s trying to intimidate and frighten you.”

“It’s working.” She covered her mouth with her hand in a vain attempt to stifle her sobs. “My poor baby.”

Jack let her cry for a minute or so. Then he held her away from him and shook her gently. “Come on. We’ve got work to do. We’re going to get Ian back today. Focus on that.”

She nodded and sucked in a shaky breath. “Okay. What do we need to do?”

“Take a shower and get dressed. I’ll make more coffee. Then we’ll plan our strategy.”

When Andrea emerged from the bedroom fifteen minutes later, showered and wearing fresh clothes, Jack handed her a cup of black coffee. “I’ve decided I should go by myself to meet these people,” he said. “This smells of a trap and there’s no need to put you in danger when I’m the one they really want.”

“My son is in danger. There’s no way I’m not going with you to get him.” Her eyes blazed and her face had taken on some color for the first time in hours.

He hadn’t really thought he could convince her to stay behind, but he felt he had to try. He nodded and picked up a gun from the kitchen table and handed it to her. “Then you’ll need this.” She stared at the compact weapon, matte black and deadly looking.

“It’s a Beretta Storm,” he said, pulling the slide back to reveal an empty chamber. “Nine millimeter, double-or single-action trigger, ambidextrous safety.” He placed the gun in her hand. “Do you know how to shoot?”

She nodded. “Preston took me to the range and made sure I was competent.”

“Good.” He nodded toward the box of ammo on the table. “Load it, and be ready to use it if you have to, though I hope you don’t have to.”

He pulled out his Glock and checked the load. The last time he had fired the weapon was the day Gus died.

“Preston had a Glock like that,” she said. “I still have it in the gun safe at home.”

He holstered the weapon again. “We could be walking into a trap,” he said. “We’re going to have to be on our guard.”

She nodded. “We have to find the address first.”

He picked up the notepad with the scrawled address and walked to the laptop on the coffee table. A few minutes of searching online and he came up with a location. “It’s about twenty-five miles out of town, near the community of Bayfield. Do you know it?”

She sat next to him and laid the now-loaded weapon beside the computer, the barrel facing away from them. “I’ve driven through it a few times. From what I remember, there isn’t much there—a few houses, maybe a gas station. I guess the kidnappers chose it because it’s remote and probably not very busy this time of year.”

“Let’s see if we can get a look at it.” He pulled up Google Earth and keyed in the address. By zooming in and maneuvering the mouse, he was able to get a bird’s-eye view of a cluster of buildings alongside a river. “Pine River,” he read. “This address looks like a fishing camp.”

He switched to Street View and studied the image of what appeared to be boarded up buildings. The image had been captured in the summer and showed a dirt road leading into the property, and the surrounding woods. “It’s a pretty good setup,” he said. “The river protects them on one side and there are dense stands of trees on the other sides. It’s well hidden from the road, and from the looks of the place, no one has lived there for years.”

“If we drive in there, we’ll be trapped,” she said.

“We’re not going to drive,” he said. “At least, not right away. We’re going to park some distance away and hike in cross-country. And we’re going to do it long before noon. I want a look at this place and whoever is there before they expect us.”

“I just realized the man on the phone referred to you as Agent Prescott. How did he know your name?”

“Because I’m the one they’re really after.” He looked at her. “If things go bad out there, I want you to take Ian and run, as far and as fast as you can. Don’t worry about me.”

Her eyes shone with tears and her face was the color of paper. She nodded. “I don’t want to leave you,” she said. “But I have to save Ian.”

“We’ll need to dress warm, with good boots and warm coats, hats and gloves,” he said. “We can swing by your house on the way to the bank and get what you need. The weather forecast is calling for a major storm cell to move into the area by afternoon.”

“The bank opens at nine,” she said. “If we leave here at eight thirty, we can go to my house, then the bank, and leave from there. I can change shoes in the truck on the way down.”

Now that the pressure was on, she had pulled herself together and was all business. “You would have made a good cop,” he said.

Her expressive face revealed anger and pain. “I know you probably mean that as a compliment,” she said. “But I don’t see it that way.” She picked up the gun again and stood. “I’ll be ready to go when you are.”