Rita Herron - A Warrior's Mission

Sometimes, her dad seemed genuinely concerned, as if he was really worried about her and his grandchild. As if he feared some horrible thing had happened to her baby. But he had been keeping the details of the case from her, treating her like a child, and she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You know, sweetheart,” he said in a low tone, “you…we all might have to come to terms with the fact that we might never find Schyler.”

“What?” Holly gasped. She must have heard him wrong.

Celia pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, then moved toward Holly, reaching out her arms. “I don’t want to hear that either,” she said. “But your father’s right. This ordeal is killing you, I can see it—”

Tears burned Holly’s eyes. “You don’t care if we get my baby back!”

“That’s not true and you know it, Holly,” Celia said in a more forceful voice. “But it’s tearing us all apart, the three of us are on pins and needles. I can’t handle watching you suffer so. I see you wake up every day with hope, then go to bed with it shattered at night. You’re not eating, not sleeping.”

Holly’s throat constricted. “How can I sleep and eat when my son is missing?”

Her father stood, shook his head and stared out the window at the gardens beyond. “We’ve done everything we can do.”

“No!” Her heart broke at his words. “I will never accept that my baby’s not coming back. Never.”

Holly backed toward the door, then spun around and ran from the room, tears blinding her as she took the steps two at a time to the empty nursery.

HER BABY NEEDED HER..

Holly rolled over and squinted through the darkened interior of her bedroom, the sound of her son’s cry warming her. He was safe and sound in his crib, but he needed feeding. Again. She hadn’t realized how often infants ate, how exhausting it would be to care for a baby.

How precious every moment she had with him was until she’d lost him.

She appreciated it now—now he’d been found and brought back to her.

Regardless of the fact that she’d just fallen asleep, Holly tossed the duvet aside, shoved her feet into her bedroom shoes and grabbed her robe. She cinched it at her waist, shoving a tangle of unruly hair from her face as she hurried through the adjoining bathroom to her son’s room. The pale glow of the night-light bathed the room, her son’s whimpers a soft blip in the otherwise quiet nursery.

She could already see his chubby arms waving, his legs cycling the air, kicking off the covers, his dark brown eyes scrunched, searching through the darkness for her. She began to sing his favorite lullaby in a low voice to let him know she was there, and crossed the room, anxious to hold him to her breast, the tingle of anticipation already seeping through her, making her feel giddy.

She had never known she could love a baby so much. Had never known she could feel so much pain when he had been ripped from her life.

He lay curled on his side, covered in the crocheted blanket her mother had given him when Holly had brought him home. She gently eased it aside. “Come on, sweetheart. Mommy’s here. We’re never going to be separated again.”

A scream lodged in her throat.

Her baby was gone! Nooooo. Not again.

Tears swam to her eyes as she frantically searched every corner of the crib. But her efforts were useless. Her baby hadn’t come back. They hadn’t found him at all.

He might be lost to her forever….

HOLLY’S EYES flew open, a sob wrenching from deep inside her as she leaned over Sky’s empty crib. How many times in the past four months had she been entrenched in this nightmare and walked in her sleep to her son’s room? Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands as she dropped her head onto the railing and cried.

Why hadn’t they found him? Who had stolen her baby from his crib? Why would someone torture her like this? Maybe she had been spoiled, a rich girl, had played with fire by seducing Night, but she loved Sky, and he…he didn’t deserve this.

Her chest heaved with her sobs, the hope she’d clung to the first week he’d been kidnapped dwindling every day. And now the FBI and her father were practically giving up. Even the P.I.s working on the case hadn’t caught the kidnapper.

A shrill sound cut through her misery and she jerked her head toward her bedroom. The phone was ringing. Not a house phone though, her cell phone. Who would be calling this time of night?

Someone about the search? Night maybe? She’d barely talked to him since he’d stormed out. But she knew he had been watching her.

Knew he blamed her, as she blamed herself.

The price she had paid for her passion…would her misery ever end?

The sharp ring drowned out her thoughts, and she dashed through the bathroom and flipped on a light, scanning the clumps of clothes and accessories littering the dresser and her chaise lounge for the phone. Where was her purse?

Panicked now, she tossed items haphazardly onto the floor, digging beneath the rubble until her hands landed on the oversize leather bag she’d purchased to double as a small diaper bag. She’d wanted to be a fashionable young mother.

Now, she would trade every cent the Langworthys had to hold her baby again.

The phone trilled again and she turned the bag upside down and dumped the contents. Lipstick, brush, wallet, powder—cell phone. Sighing with relief, she punched the button and held it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Holly Langworthy?”

“Yes.” She frowned, the hair at the nape of her neck rising. She didn’t recognize the gruff voice.

“If you want to see your son again, listen carefully.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was the phone call they’d been waiting for. Her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the plush carpet, unable to believe it—she might get Sky back. “Wh—what do you want me to do?”

“Meet me at the Langworthy cabin at dawn.”

Her hands trembled as she fought her emotions. “Is my son all right?”

“Just show up. And, Holly…” His breath wheezed out. “Come alone. If I see a cop, or even a hint of one, you’ll never see your baby again.”

REGARDLESS OF the late hour, Colleen Wellesley had called a meeting at the Royal Flush to discuss the Langworthy baby kidnapping. Most of the key Confidential agents were there—Shawn Jameson, Ryan Benton, Colleen’s brother Michael, Fiona Clark, Conrad Burke, and Night.

The Confidential operatives had been working round the clock for the past four months. Although the FBI was pulling back, Samuel Langworthy still wanted Colorado Confidential, known to him as ICU, on the case. Thank God.

But even if Langworthy or Colorado Confidential gave up, Night wouldn’t.

His co-workers had no idea how powerless he felt without answers. Or how Night wanted them to use the Walker name instead of Langworthy when they referred to his son. Not that Samuel Langworthy would ever allow that to happen….

“Okay,” Colleen said after calling the meeting to order. “Let’s recap what we’ve learned so far.” She gestured toward her brother Michael. “Traces of wool, dirt, and egg shells were found by the baby’s crib. The wool fibers were from Merino sheep. I sent Michael undercover to the Half Spur, a Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Senator Gettys, to see if there might be evidence to connect him to the kidnapping.”

Michael took the floor first. “The atmosphere at the Half Spur was secretive and strange. Blood was collected from the flock at regular intervals. We lifted one of the blood samples and sent it to the Fort Collins CDC for testing. The sheep’s blood tested positive for a strange virus and antibodies for a bacteria called Coxiella burnetii, which causes Q fever. It seems the sheep are a test flock for a self-spreading vaccine for Q fever.” Michael paused.