Rebecca York - Powerhouse

“Not the best conditions for traveling.”

“We’ll start with the computer. With abductions. The way the world is wired today, it’s hard to keep anything in isolation—even when they told you not to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

He had just gotten up when a buzzer sounded, and she jumped.

“What’s that?”

“The alarm. That’s how I knew you were coming up the road.”

Fear zinged through her. “You think somebody’s watching the ranch? That they know I’m here?”

“I don’t know, but better safe than sorry.” He walked rapidly to the back entryway and took down a holster and a gun. Then he began getting into his cold-weather gear.

“What are you doing?”

“Going out to have a look. Like I did for you.”

As she watched his preparations, she was thinking that in the normal course of events, he’d be considered paranoid for going out in the snow to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him. But it wasn’t paranoia when you’d been kidnapped as a child, and when there had just been another kidnapping.

Still, she grabbed his arm before he could step out the door, and he turned to face her. “What?”

Her lips trembled. “If the kidnapper knows I’m here, they could hurt Trevor.”

He stood looking at her, considering. “I think we have to assume that they want him for something, and they’re not going to hurt him. They told you not to go to the authorities so they wouldn’t have any interference.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she murmured.

“Just like they wanted me for something,” he added.

“What?”

He swallowed. “To experiment on me, I guess.” Fear clutched at her insides again. “Do you think they’ll do the same thing to Trevor that they did to you?” “I don’t know.” “I’m scared.” He nodded tightly.

“Are you thinking we should call the FBI?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking we should handle this by ourselves, under the radar—and use the FBI as a last resort. But I’d like to make sure we are under the radar.”

“Yes,” she agreed. She’d been on her own for so long, it was a relief to have someone else to share the decisions—and the worry. But she was going to carry her weight. Following him to the mudroom, she reached for her coat. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. Stay here where it’s safe.” “You could get Ed.”

“I don’t want to put him in danger—or anyone else.”

Her heart started to pound as she peered into the darkness. “You think it’s dangerous out there?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve had a lot more experience with protecting myself than you have.”

She wanted to ask what he meant—exactly. Had someone threatened him since the boyhood kidnapping? But she knew that this wasn’t the time for questions, not when he needed to focus on whatever was out there. So she watched as he slipped out the door and into the frigid night.

Still, as he disappeared around the side of the house, she had to force herself not to follow him as another scenario zinged into her mind. What if they both had it wrong? What if someone was returning Trevor to them—at the ranch?

Her heart started pounding harder. Maybe that was it! Maybe all her fear and terror would be over soon.

Please, Lord, let that be true. Whoever had Trevor was returning him, just like they’d returned Matt. The same people? She didn’t care at the moment. She just wanted to hold her son in her arms again and smother him with kisses. She wanted to make him laugh. And she wanted to run her fingers through his silky hair. So much. But she ordered herself not to clutch at straws. Why would someone kidnap Trevor—then bring him back?

It didn’t make sense, but it was exactly what had happened to Matt. After three months, she reminded herself.

Feeling as if she’d caught the paranoia bug, she turned off the lights before walking to the window and staring out. When a shadow flitted by, she stiffened. Then she recognized Matt’s tall form, checking out the ranch yard.

At least it was easy to do in this weather, she realized. If someone had come up to the house, he’d see tracks in the snow.

Her stomach clenched again as she remembered struggling up the road toward the house. But nobody would be foolish enough to leave a little boy out in the snow like that—would they?

She opened and closed her fists, forcing herself not to run outside. Trevor probably wasn’t even here. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from clinging to that hope because the thing she wanted most in the world was to get her little boy back.

Please, Lord, please. Let Matt come back with our son.

Every few moments, she glanced at the clock, keeping track of the time Matt had been gone. After five minutes, she started pacing the kitchen, returning to the window periodically to stare outside.

After ten minutes, she wanted to scream.

Why hadn’t she insisted on going out there? It was all she could do to stay in the house—while she listened for the sound of gunshots.

But the only sound she heard was the pounding of blood in her ears. Until the back door opened, and Matt stepped back into the mudroom.

“Did you find Trevor?” she blurted as she turned the lights back on.

He tipped his head to the side, looking confused. “Trevor?”

She flushed, knowing that his mind hadn’t taken the same leap as hers. “I … I was hoping that whoever took him returned him to us. Here.”

Understanding bloomed on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t find him.”

“Okay,” she answered, defeated.

He pulled off his coat and stamped snow off his boots.

“What did you find?”

“I think the only tracks leading up and down the road are yours and mine, although I can’t be absolutely sure in the dark. Someone could have stepped in my footprints to disguise their trail.”

“Okay.”

“But I did see deer tracks down there. Maybe they set off the alarm.”

She nodded. “I guess it was stupid of me to think someone would bring Trevor back—just like that.”

“It could have been true—given what happened with me.”

“But you don’t remember anything from while you were gone.”

“No!”

The way he said it made her throat tighten. “I’m sorry.” “If I remember anything, you’ll be the first to know,” he snapped, then looked apologetic. “Sorry, I’m on edge.” “We both are.”

“There’s a café in town that makes pretty decent chili.”

“You’re not suggesting that we go out, are you?”

Matt shook his head. “No. I bring it home in plastic containers. I thawed out a batch and stuck it in the refrigerator this morning.” He laughed. “That sounds pathetic doesn’t it?”

“Of course not. Cooking is a chore,” she answered.

MATT COULD HAVE told her that he had plenty of time for chores. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and took out the carton.

“I’m not very hungry,” she murmured. “Neither am I. But we have to eat. We can each take a bowl of chili into the office while we do a computer search.” “Of what?”

“Missing children. I can’t believe we’re not going to find some cases that match Trevor’s disappearance.”

When he saw hope bloom on her face, he felt his chest tighten. So that she wouldn’t see anything revealing in his eyes, he got out a glass bowl from a lower cabinet. After dumping the chili inside, he covered it with wax paper and set it in the microwave.

She’d come here because she had been at the end of her rope. Not like his mother who had pretended everything was fine and dandy while he was gone.

That told him something. She was a good mother to their son. And he was glad she had turned to him.