A Mother's Secret

Whatever they were, he meant to find them.

The police precinct where Kincaid worked was on a winding street in east Scottsdale, a low building shaded with eucalyptus trees and bordered by hibiscus in bloom. There was none of the hustle and bustle that she’d noted in Mesa, Sara thought as she followed Kincaid in. A sergeant at a raised desk on the left glanced up, then grinned.

“Hey, how you doin’, Kincaid?”

“Not bad, Riley.” He escorted Sara along a hallway that led to a large open room with a dozen or more desks, only a few were occupied. Indicating his desk near a window, he said, “Wait over there. I’ll be right back.”

Feeling conspicuous, Sara walked back and sat down in his chair. There were no others around the desk. Apparently Kincaid was neat as a pin. The desk held only a phone and a calendar turned to April. Had he been on leave that long?

Looking around, she noticed an officer in uniform using the hunt-and-peck method of typing, as an unkempt man in his twenties sat sullenly beside his desk. Another cop was on the phone and the only other officer in the precinct was a tall woman with jet-black hair pulled back into a secure twist at her nape. Sara swung the chair around and gazed out the window.

Had she made a mistake allowing Kincaid to get fake money and come with her? Truth be known, she felt better having him along, but what if Lenny had someone watching her? Why was he making her go so far to exchange the money? He’d likely taken Mike camping up one of the many trails around Flagstaff. Did the boy know what his father was up to? Probably not, because Mike had an innate sense of fair play and would give his father grief over blackmailing his aunt, no matter how sincerely Lenny explained his need for money. Had Mike been aware that his parents were gambling? If so, he’d never let on or seemed worried.

“Hello. I’m Trudy Wells,” a voice nearby said.

Sara swung around and found the female officer regarding her curiously. “Hello.” She saw no reason to introduce herself.

“Are you a friend of Kincaid’s?” Trudy asked, making herself at home by leaning a hip against the desk, her sharp gray eyes looking Sara up and down.

“Not exactly,” Sara answered. More like business associates, she supposed.

“I see.” Trudy wasn’t satisfied. “Are you working on a case with him?”

“You might say that.” Sara glanced down the hallway, wishing Kincaid would hurry back.

“He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?” Trudy asked, her manner unfriendly.

“I suppose.” Was this woman more than friends with Kincaid and letting Sara know it? “More importantly, I understand he’s very good at what he does.”

Trudy’s smile fell short of sincere. “Yes. We often work together. He’s the best. Are you…”

But she never finished her question as Kincaid approached, carrying a small leather satchel. He nodded to Trudy, then looked at Sara. “Ready to go when you are.”

“We were just getting acquainted,” Trudy purred as Sara walked around her. “Where are you two off to?”

“We’re in a hurry, Trudy.” Kincaid took Sara’s elbow and guided her outside and into his silver Explorer, leaving the annoyed officer staring after them.

As they pulled out of the police parking lot, Sara glanced back and saw Trudy at the door scowling in their direction. “Trudy seems a bit put out that you’re leaving with me.”

“Trudy’s often a bit put out,” he answered, dismissing the subject. “I’m driving to my place in Cave Creek to pick up some things and then we’ll head up north. Okay?”

“Yes. You got the money?”

He nodded as he swung onto the boulevard street. “Counted it twice.”

“Did you have to have authorization?”

“Minimal. I signed for it. After all this time, they pretty much trust me.” He glanced over at her. Earlier she’d changed into jeans and a man’s cotton shirt over a white tee. He couldn’t help but notice the telltale tension around her mouth, the worried look in her eyes. “Why don’t you lean back and relax? You’re wound as tight as a spring. We’re doing everything we can at the moment. We can’t do anything more until morning.”

Sara took in a deep breath. “I know, and I thank you. But I can’t help worrying. He’s a slight boy, you know. Not a tough kid. I…I just want him back.”

Kincaid’s big hand reached over to cover hers. “We’ll get him back, Sara.”

Even as he heard the words that he hoped reassured her, Kincaid felt a chill race up his spine. Yes, eventually they’d get Mike Nelson back. But would he still be alive and well? That was always the danger with a stressed-out, desperate kidnapper whose back was to the wall. Sometimes they killed accidentally and sometimes out of frustration. It was always a race against time, and the statistics weren’t in their favor.

Yet sometimes everything worked out and he got the kidnapped child back unharmed. He lived for those times.

Cave Creek was a laid-back, hilly town populated mostly by folks whose families had lived there for years. Kincaid turned off the main drag onto a dirt road that wound through the trees for more than a mile before reaching a large tan cinder-block ranch house. Sara noticed several outbuildings—a large aluminum horse barn and a smaller one farther down plus a big wooden building that looked to be a bunkhouse for his help. Two chestnut horses and a fawn-colored pony wandered about inside a fenced corral. A sleek yellow Labrador came bounding over to meet them, giving off a few welcoming barks as the Explorer stopped in front of a wide carport housing a white truck and a black Jeep.

“When you said you had a ranch, I had no idea it was such a big spread.”

“Only twenty acres. We sold off the rest. We breed some fine quarter horses, board others, train some for show.” Getting out, he greeted the big Lab. “Hey, Iago! How you doing, boy?” He stroked the big dog’s neck, then glanced over and saw that Sara was still inside. “It’s okay. He won’t bother you as long as I’m with you.”

Cautiously she got out and turned to see another yellow Lab come strolling forward, slowed by a very late pregnancy. She watched Kincaid bend to rub behind the dog’s ears.

“How’s it going, Juno?” he asked as the heavy dog offered her belly for a little scratching while Iago stood guard. They made quite a picture with the late-afternoon sun dappling shadows through the leafy trees.

Moving toward them, Sara hid her surprise. “I see someone likes Shakespeare and mythology.” She held out her hand tentatively, and Iago sniffed it, deciding she was acceptable.

Squinting up at her, Kincaid grinned. “Yeah, us old country boys read a book now and then.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, sure. You uppity Scottsdale folk think everyone up our way chews tobacco, listens to Willie Nelson and eats charbroiled steak every night.”

Angling her head, she saw he was trying to lighten her mood. “Well, don’t you?”

“Yeah, mostly.” He straightened and nodded toward the wide, shaded porch. “Come inside where it’s cooler while I throw a couple things in a bag.”