Catherine Coulter - The Target

"Did you tell them you were taking off to find Emma yourself?"

"No, I didn't. I'll call him right now. At least he won't try to trace the call." She paused a moment, then said, turning to face him, "I wonder if my father suspected Emma's kidnapping had anything to do with him? I bet he has. I know one thing: If he found out who did this, he wouldn't hesitate to sanction a kill."

SANCTION A KILL. She'd said it so easily, so naturally.

How many times had she heard it said when she was a kid?

"All right, I'm going to call. Hey, wait a minute. What if those men were there to rescue Emma and they thought you were the kidnapper? Of course they'd try to get rid of you. Of course they'd follow you. Oh goodness, there's no end to the possibilities. I've got a headache, Ramsey."

"That goes really well with my leg ache. That theory could fly until you showed up. You think they haven't at least seen a photo of you? You think that there's any way they wouldn't know you're the boss's daughter? Call, Molly. I want to hear what he has to say. Use your cell phone. Come over here so I can hear."

She sat down on the arm of the recliner and began dialing. Area code 312. Chicago and outlying residential areas, like Oak Park. Sure, that was where Mason Lord lived, only the best. He saw her hand tighten around the phone.

Why hadn't she seen her father for three years?

The phone rang twice, then a man answered, his voice deep and mellifluous.

"Miles? It's me, Molly."

"Yes, Molly. You've got news about Emma?"

"She's fine, Miles. She's back with me. Thank you for asking. I want to give Dad the news."

"Just a moment. Goodness, this is a relief. Mr. Lord's been on a real tear."

"You heard that?" she asked Ramsey. Ramsey was three inches from the receiver.

"Yeah, I heard."

There was a good twenty more seconds of silence, then, "Molly? Emma's safe?"

"Hello, Dad. Yes, I've got her with me. I found her. She's fine."

"I don't understand. I haven't heard a word from my people. Do the Denver police know you've got Emma back?"

"Yes, they know. They don't like the fact that I got her back without them."

"Tell me."

She took a deep breath. "You know I went looking when the cops and the FBI didn't get anywhere. I would have thought your people would know. Well, I found her. A guy had saved her and I came upon both of them. She's safe. We're going to stay out of sight for a while."

"There's no reason to, Molly. Come home. You can bet I'll protect the both of you."

"No, not yet. There are a lot more people involved than just a single kidnapper. I don't want to take any chances. I'm going to keep Emma hidden as long as those people are still out there and looking for her."

Her knuckles were white she was clutching the phone so tightly. "It's not a simple kidnapping, Dad."

"But they got a ransom note."

"Yes, but that ransom note arrived after I already had Emma back. It was a lie. Do you understand any of this?"

"No, but I'll speak to Buzz about it. We've already discussed the possibility of some enemy of mine being involved. But the important thing is you've got Emma back. I'm tremendously relieved." He sighed. She could picture him running his fingers lightly through his hair, never enough to mess it up. "We've got nothing as of yet. But I don't like the feel of this at all. How many people have you seen?"

"Probably four different men, but we've managed to get away from them. We're safely tucked away now."

"All right. I'll speak to Buzz Carmen immediately. He's still in Denver. How exactly did you find out about these other men?"

"I knew they were following so I pulled off at an exit. When they went by, I got the license. I checked with a friend who found out for me that the truck was reportedly stolen from a farmer in Loveland, Colorado. The wife reported it; then the husband said he'd sold it. It sounds like maybe he did sell it-to the kidnappers. I phoned in the license plate to the Denver PD and the FBI. I'd appreciate your checking as well, Dad, then I'd know it got done right." She gave him the license and the name of the farmer.

"I've got it. I don't suppose you'll tell me who gave you this information?"

"I can't."

He sighed. "Very well. Come home, Molly."

"I'll call tomorrow. Emma's just fine. Don't worry. Those men won't find us."

"About this man who found Emma. Who is he? How can you be sure you can trust him?"

"If we can't trust him, Dad, then it's all over. Believe me, he's the most trustworthy man in the world.

Tomorrow, Dad." She pushed the Off button and laid the phone on the table.

"At least you don't call him Godfather."

She smiled at him. It was a charming smile, warm and full. She had a wide mouth and very white teeth.

His father was a dentist. Ramsey always noticed a person's teeth. His old man would really like what he saw.

Ramsey liked that smile, too. It was almost as if she was ready to stop being afraid. She said, "Mason Lord is very good-looking. He's black Irish: fair skinned, hair like ink, straight and thick, just a dabbling of gray at his temples. His eyes are such a startling blue, women just stare at him. He doesn't appreciate having a grown daughter, much less a grandchild, but he copes. My mother was the one who told me I should call him by his first name, but I couldn't get the hang of it. Neither could he. I remember thinking Mason jar every time I used his first name. When I told him that, he threw up his hands, laughed, and said to forget it. He's been Dad for a very long time, actually since I was eight years old and moved away with my mother."

"I've never thought of Mason Lord as having human qualities, like a sense of humor. You don't look a thing like him."

"No, I'm the picture of my grandmother. She was an actress in the fifties. Never got very far with it because she wasn't beautiful or very photogenic. Boy, but could she act. It turned out not to be enough."

"You're far from plain, Molly."

She just smiled at him, that same gorgeous smile. "You should see my mother. Now she's what you'd call a looker. She's fifty-five now and still a head-turning beauty. Both she and Father were appalled, I think, when I turned out the way I did."

She honestly believed what she was saying. It amazed him. Didn't she look in a mirror once in a while?

"Where's your mother? What's her name?"

"Her name is Alicia and she lives near Livorno, Italy. That's where her family is. She and Dad divorced when I was just a kid. I lived with her in Italy nine months out of the year and the other three months with Dad. I came back to the United States to go to college at Vassar. I've only seen her once a year for the past seven or eight years."

"Does she know about Emma's kidnapping?"

"I don't think so, not unless she read about it in an Italian newspaper, and I strongly doubt the story made it there. I saw no reason to worry her."

"Your father hasn't remarried."

"Oh yes he has, nearly three years ago. Her name's Eve and she's two years younger than me."

"You said that Emma's musical. Does she play the piano or something yet?"

"Don't want to know about Eve, huh? I don't blame you. She'd take one gander at you and lick her chops, but not while my dad was looking. One of my mother's old friends called me and filled my ears with tales of Eve Lord. My mother's friend is a Sunday school teacher, so I guess she's trustworthy.

Although maybe she wanted Dad for herself. Who knows? Emma plays the piano."

"I'll buy her one of those two-octave portable pianos tomorrow. I'd like to hear her play."

"Thank you, Ramsey."

"Why haven't you seen your father for three years?"

He swore he could see her stiffen from across the room. He said, "Was it because he'd hurt your husband?"