Margaret Daley - Texas Baby Pursuit

A half grin won out. “I’m here, honey. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

Rachel was amazed at the calmness in his voice. Now she understood why her father had mentioned Dallas when discussing potential allies for her in the area. He kept his composure in a situation that would throw most into a panic.

Dallas squatted on the other side of Michelle and took over putting pressure on the injury to stem the blood flow. “What happened?” he asked in a soft, soothing voice.

“Brady.” Michelle turned her head to the side—the movement causing her to wince and displace the cloth on her wound. “They...took him, Daddy.” She waved her hand toward an area with scattered toys on the blanket. Tears ran down her face.

Again the teen tried to rise, but this time Dallas clasped one of her shoulders. “Don’t move until you’re checked out.” He re-covered the injury with the cloth. Worry engraved deeper lines on his face.

“Your dad’s right,” Rachel said. “An ambulance is on its way. You’re in good hands.”

“But Brady...” Michelle’s eyelids half closed “...is gone...” Tears drenched her cheeks, her eyes dulling.

Rachel glanced at Dallas. Their gazes locking for a few seconds gave her a brief glimpse into the suppressed fear in his eyes, so dark they were almost black. “Michelle, I’m Sheriff Young. I’m here to look for Brady. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of him.”

While Dallas hovered over his daughter, trying to reassure her everything was being taken care of, Rachel rose and covered the distance to Deputy Jones, who was one of her investigative officers. “Call for backup. A baby was taken. We need help looking for Brady.” She started for the screen door that led to the yard. “I’ll be out here canvassing the yard. Let me know when more help arrives.”

“Yes, ma’am,” her deputy said with a nod.

Rachel started for the exit, glancing back at Dallas and his daughter.

“I’ll be right back, princess.”

Michelle clutched her father’s arm. “Don’t leave me, Daddy.”

“I’m not. I need to talk to the sheriff for a moment.”

The teen slipped her hand away and held the cloth over her injury, her arm shaking. Dallas rose and quickly bridged the short distance between himself and Rachel. “I’ll get what information I can from Michelle and contact my sister and mother.”

“I’ll need a description of Brady and what he was wearing, and if possible, a recent picture. It’ll help with the Amber Alert. How old is he?”

“He’s eight months old and crawling. Not walking yet. He has dark hair and blue eyes.”

Rachel nodded, then turned toward the door as the EMTs came onto the porch. The screen door was slightly open. The kidnapper came in this way or left out the back. She descended the steps but paused a moment and again looked at Dallas, standing back from his daughter, running his fingers through his short brown hair. A tic twitched in his jaw while one of the paramedics stooped to check Michelle.

Rachel’s throat thickened. She had a daughter who would turn one in a month. All she wanted to do was drive out to her parents’ house, pick up Katie and hug her. Never let her go. The only good thing that had come out of her marriage was Katie.

This case would be hard for her. She’d only been sheriff for a couple of weeks and had dealt with minor crimes so far. The honeymoon was over.

She scanned the area—open with few fences except one along the back where a dirt road ran behind the houses on the street. The kidnapper could have parked on that road by the southern border of the Fowlers’ ranch and easily climbed the rear fence. But then, if that were case, why was the front door open?

As she walked toward the rear of the property, using the most direct path, her gaze swept the ground around her. About ten feet away, she spotted a binky on the grass. She took out her phone and snapped a picture. After putting on a pair of gloves, she leaned over, picked up the blue pacifier and put it into an evidence bag. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been outside long. Possibly dropped by Brady, which meant the kidnappers had left by the back door and headed for the road behind the house. She’d need to know from Michelle how the kidnappers got into the house, since both entrances were wide open.

Most likely the perpetrators entered through the front door, because it had been wide open when Michelle and Dallas arrived. Maybe they fled out the nearest exit. And ran around to the front to leave? She hoped a neighbor had seen something—the kidnappers or the getaway car with a license plate number.

It was even possible they’d come into the place through the back screen door and gone out the front because their car was on the street. But wouldn’t Michelle have seen them approaching from the rear? Only the top half of the porch was screened. Rachel shook her head and looked back at the house.

Her stomach tightened into a hard ball, and she held up the evidence bag with the binky in it. Or they’d come in the front and gone out the back, their car parked on the dirt road behind the property. She had to check everything out. Timing was important in cases like kidnapping.

She climbed the fence rails and paused above the ground and road, staring at several sets of different tire tracks. She knew they were freshly made because the day before it had rained hard. She would have casts made of all of them. Maybe one would give them a lead. She inspected the barren earth that had only a few weeds sticking up. Two pairs of boot prints crisscrossed the tire tracks. Michelle had said “they.” Were there two intruders or more, having something to do with one of the back ways into the Fowlers’ ranch?

She would have this area blocked off and processed, but she would also need to pay Houston Fowler a visit to find out which of his employees had used this road in the past twenty-four hours. Even if no one had, maybe one of them saw something.

As she hopped down and started back toward the house, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and punched the on button. “Is everything all right, Dad?”

“I’ve got a call there’s been a kidnapping.”

“An eight-month-old baby.”

“Whose?”

“Lenora and Paul Howard’s. How’s Katie?”

“She’s fine. Your mother is feeding her. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to my granddaughter.”

Her dad knew her well. Rachel reached the porch. “I need to go.”

“I don’t want to butt in, but I’ll help in any way you need.”

“Thanks, Dad. Right now, just keep Katie safe.” Rachel disconnected the call and opened the screen door to the porch, then entered.

Deputy Jones finished taking photos of the area. “Texas Ranger Sanders went with his daughter to the regional hospital.”

Thinking of the nasty bleeding gash on the side of Michelle’s head, Rachel asked, “Was she still responsive when she left?”

“Yes. He called his sister and brother-in-law. They should be here soon. Also, the word’s getting out and already a couple of reporters have arrived.”

“But not on the property?”

“No. Standing in the street along with some of the neighbors.”

“I’ll go around front and meet the parents. Send a deputy out to make castings of the tire tracks along the dirt road behind here as well as the two sets of boot prints.”

Instead of going through the house, Rachel headed around the side of the building and came upon a large, muscular man wearing a hoodie standing behind a group of tall bushes, peeking in a window. When he spied her, he whirled around, plunged through the thick vegetation and raced across the Howards’ neighbor’s back lawn.

Rachel took out after him. Her heart pounded as quickly as her feet against the ground. The suspicious man disappeared around the corner of a home two away from the Howards’. As she chased him, she pressed her mic and said, “I’m in pursuit of a guy at the Howards’. I’m two houses away heading west. I need backup.”