James Patterson - Thriller - Stories to Keep You Up All Night

Deidre was a victim of a tragic struggle. All Karen could do now was try to mitigate the damage. And get the bastard responsible.

Like every good lawyer, she'd analyzed the risks, then constructed plan A and plan B. With plan A, she and Deidre returned home without Jeffrey's interference, luring him back into the U.S. where authorities would arrest him. Plan B provided an alternative if Jeffrey attempted to thwart her. He would be dealt with at the border crossing. At least, in theory.

Yet again, she regretted the decision she'd had to make about the gun and prayed her alternative would work, even if it cost her her own life.

As always before executing the final stages of retrieval, Karen slept fitfully. Finally, at 4:00 a.m., she gave up the effort.

She arrived at the school two hours early and parked down the street, waiting for Deidre's arrival. Just before nine, a station wagon stopped. A young woman helped Deidre out of the back seat, and held her hand as they walked to the school's front entrance. The woman was gentle with Deidre, but Deidre demonstrated no affection when they parted. Deidre walked into the school, slowly and alone, dragging the rag doll with her. The woman returned to the station wagon and left.

When the children entered the playground for recess, Karen left her car and strolled over. She called to Deidre twice. The child looked up. A broad grin slowly lit her face. Deidre loped toward her. "Aunt Karen!" she said, crying as Karen picked her up and hugged her, too tightly. The child felt thinner inside her clothes. Karen's sadness, followed by hot anger, returned.

Within a few moments, Karen had explained to Deidre's teacher that Deidre had a dentist's appointment and produced a forged note from Jeffrey allowing her to take the child. The teacher looked at Karen carefully, but released Deidre, probably in part because Deidre continued to hold on to Karen as if she never wanted to let go. Less than fifteen minutes after Karen first saw Deidre on the playground, they were driving toward Lewis-ton. So far, plan A seemed to be working.

Constantly checking the rearview mirror, she retraced the route she'd taken the day before. Deidre, securely belted in the back seat, had returned to her subdued behavior. She talked quietly to the rag doll she'd brought along with her. About an hour into the drive, her eyelids closed, her chin gently touched her chest and she fell into the rhythm of sleep. A bit of drool slid from the corner of her mouth onto the doll's head. She was so young, so sweet. So undeserving of this mess. Karen clenched the steering wheel so tight her hands cramped.

Was Jeffrey controlling her with medication of some kind? Another thing to despise him for. She glanced at her watch. Just like yesterday, she was right on time.

When they approached the border crossing, Karen located the passports, prepared to show them if she had to. She'd seen no sign of Jeffrey or anyone following her for the entire return trip, which worried her.

Jeffrey was crazy, violent, controlling. She'd expected him to know where Deidre was every second, and to come after her. Or at least, Jeffrey should have learned Deidre was abducted and reasoned that Karen would take the shortest route back to the U.S.

So far, she hadn't seen Jeffrey. But her senses were on alert. She'd learned never to underestimate him. There was something she'd missed. Somehow, she believed, when they reached the border, he'd be there. Plan B. Could she pull it off?

Supremely focused now, she drove over the bridge without noticing the spectacular views of Niagara Gorge. At the U.S. checkpoint, the line of vehicles moved swiftly through the single open kiosk. She looked into the cinder-block customs building, which also housed the duty-free store. She saw one officer behind the counter, and one clerk in the store waiting on a customer.

While she watched, the customer carried a bottle of liquor in a plain brown bag to the rusty battered panel van in front of her and got in. The panel van belched smoke when it backfired, and its muffler had long ago surrendered to the rust belt.

Midweek, off season, at lunchtime, the entire area was relaxed, thinly patrolled and almost deserted. She hoped this would make Jeffrey more obvious, if he appeared and tried anything.

Karen mentally rehearsed the lie she'd tell if the customs officer asked her more than routine questions. Yesterday, the process was casual, easy, intended to encourage tourism, not to thwart a kidnapper.

Two cars ahead passed through the checkpoint. When the panel van jerked toward the kiosk window, Karen pulled up and waited at the yellow line. The van blocked her view of the officer. She glanced again toward the duty-free store. She saw a lone figure, vaguely familiar, standing outside.

Jeffrey. He'd shaved his head and wore sunglasses. She didn't know how he'd found her, but he had. A tracking device on Dei-dre somewhere? Regular calls to the school just to check on his daughter? However he'd managed it, he was here now. She had to move. Adrenaline made her heart pound and sweat bead on her brow. Plan B. Stay calm.

Checking the rearview, she realized she'd have to move forward. An eighteen-wheeler six feet behind blocked any alternative.

The officer in the kiosk seemed to be chatting too long with the occupants of the van. But she couldn't see him, and he couldn't see her. She tapped the steering wheel impatiently.

Mimicking the guy who'd joined the van, Jeffrey strolled toward her car. Quiet panic fluttered in her chest as she watched him. Did anyone else see him? He reached the door, looked directly into her eyes as if to mesmerize her, grasped the handle and lifted it.

The locked door didn't open. Then he glanced into the back seat where Deidre slept, covered by the blanket Karen had brought, still holding the doll. A smirk creased his face. It was the doll. That's where he'd hidden the tracking device. Bastard. You think you're so clever. We'll see.

Karen lowered the back window and Jeffrey stuck his left hand on top of the glass. "Go away, Jeffrey, while you still can. If you try anything here, they'll kill you. Your choice."

He laughed. "You're kidnapping my child, Karen. Do you really think they'll take your side over mine?"

While he held on to the glass and the door handle Karen punched the accelerator. The car leaped forward. Jeffrey lost his balance. She slammed the brake. The car's quick jerk threw him to the ground. Her actions, and Jeffrey's, were blocked from the customs officer's view by the panel van, which moved forward now, slowly, through the gate. Maybe surveillance cameras saw him. Surely, the border guards would protect her and the child. She hoped.

The officer waved her ahead. She released a breath and eased to a stop next to the booth, left hand on the wheel.

"What's your citizenship, ma'am?" the kindly old officer asked.

"U.S." She glanced in the right-side mirror. Jeffrey had risen from the ground. His stare carried a malevolence she could feel. Bastard. Go away. While you still can.

The customs officer glanced into the back seat now, too, where Deidre slept. At the same time, he noticed Jeffrey, hands in the oversize pocket of his sweatshirt, not moving, saying nothing.

The officer became more alert. "How about the child, ma'am?" Another officer came out of the building, hand on his gun, waiting. They had seen him try to enter her car. It was working. Plan B was working. Thank God.

"U.S., too." Small rivulets of sweat tickled her armpits. Let us go, Jeffrey, and live to try again.

"Picture ID?"

Karen reached into her handbag, retrieved the passports and handed them to the officer. He examined the blue-jacketed folders. "Your name is Karen Ann Brown? And hers is Deidre London?"

"Divorce," she said. Jeffrey simply stood there. What was he thinking? Was he willing to die to thwart her?