Barb Han - Kidnapped At Christmas

“He’s on his way.” Stephanie glanced around at the gathering crowd, looking bewildered. “There was a guy—he was wearing one of those forest green park-maintenance uniforms—and he said he saw everything before taking off in that direction.” She pointed east. “Said he’d be right back.”

Meg looked on the verge of crumpling. The more people who gathered around the less likely it would be for him or Meg to see someone escaping with the stroller. Wyatt glanced at Meg.

“What color stroller am I looking for?” he asked.

“Red with big wheels to take it jogging.” She glanced from him to Stephanie with the most sorrowful look on her face.

Wyatt glanced around at the small crowd. “Did any of you see anything unusual or anyone hurrying out of this area with a red stroller?” The odds were slim anyone would notice details like that, but it was worth asking.

Heads shook.

“There was a lot going on and the music was too loud. I was afraid to wake her, so I stayed back here by the benches. I was worried that Meg would text and I would miss it.” Stephanie sobbed.

“You did the right thing.” Wyatt had no idea what to say, but he wished he could make the situation okay for both of them. Stephanie seemed like a nice person and he already knew Meg was. At least she hadn’t been lying about there being a child. Obviously, there was. No one would go through this much trouble to set up a lie.

“Go. Look for her. I’m fine,” Stephanie said, trying to push to her feet. She wobbled and a Good Samaritan steadied her by grabbing her arm in time before she landed on her bottom. She thanked him.

“We’ll stay with her,” the woman with the child said.

“Did you see anything?” Wyatt asked Stephanie.

“No. I was walking with the stroller before I felt something hard hit the back of my head and then I blacked out. Next thing I knew the park worker was beside me asking if I was okay and I had a blinding headache.” She touched a spot behind her left ear.

Meg hopped onto a nearby bench and scanned the area.

“See anything up there?” Wyatt asked. He tried to convince himself that he’d feel this panicked whether the child might be his or not. An infant had been kidnapped, and he could admit that he still had residual feelings for the baby’s mother. The little girl didn’t have to belong to him for his heart to go out to Meg. If he could help her find her baby he would. And if she kept on insisting the baby was his, he’d ask for a DNA test before he got too worked up. Keeping a level head in challenging times had earned Wyatt his solid reputation in the business world and helped him expand to twenty-five locations. This was no different.

He joined Meg on the park bench. There were too many people spreading in all different directions. The ceremony had ended, which was the perfect time to execute this kind of crime because there was chaos while families exited the park area and spilled into the parking lot.

There was no way he was going to find the person responsible at this rate. He couldn’t justify standing around and watching all this heartbreak, either.

“Text me and let me know what the sheriff says. I have to do something,” Meg shouted to her friend, and he completely understood the sentiment. He was having the same conversation in his head.

Meg was on the verge of tears as she turned to look at him. “I don’t see any sign of her.”

“If I was going to commit the crime, I’d park in the closest spot.” He pointed to the nearest parking lot, which was slowly emptying. There was a line to exit, and the park’s location in the center of town off the main square caused traffic to move slowly. “Maybe we can spot your daughter in a car on the way out of the lot.”

“It’s worth a try.” Meg sounded hopeless as he held out his hand. She took it. A simple gesture really, but when their hands made contact a fire bolt shot straight up his arm. He ignored it as best he could and took off running. With their hands linked, Meg kept pace and he was pretty sure it was from pure adrenaline.

“Maybe there,” she said through gulps of air as they darted toward the light that regulated the exit. “I see the handle of a stroller in the back window and it’s red.”

Wyatt let her hand loose so he could push forward and catch the white minivan before the light turned and the vehicle disappeared. From this angle, he couldn’t get a good look at the plate. He pushed his legs harder, leaving Meg several strides behind. If he could get to the minivan in time maybe he could put this whole ordeal to rest.

The minivan was close, but the light could turn at any second. Wyatt pushed harder until his thighs burned and his lungs threatened to burst. He could see there was only a driver and the figure was large enough to be male.

“Hold on,” he shouted to the van’s driver. The window was up and the man didn’t so much as flinch.

As the light changed, Wyatt closed in on the van. He was so close. Dammit. There were three cars ahead of the minivan, not close enough for Wyatt to catch. The cars moved and the minivan turned left, which was the opposite side of Wyatt. What an unlucky break.

Wyatt shot in between two cars. One of the drivers laid on his horn and shouted a few terse words. Wyatt had no idea where Meg was and he didn’t risk turning back to look. The minivan was going at least thirty-five miles an hour. If he could catch a break and the light at the corner turned to red... Scratch that. Wyatt had never been lucky and that’s how he’d learned to work hard for everything he’d built.

Brake lights renewed his hope as he turned on the speed he’d known as a runner in high school. Although that had been a long time ago, he worked out and kept in shape.

The van disappeared around the corner before the light changed.

“Wyatt.” Meg’s voice rippled through him. There was a mix of hope and relief in the sound of her tone. “I got her.”

He immediately turned tail and saw a man in a forest green uniform standing next to Meg, who was holding a baby. He made a beeline toward the trio, driven by something deep inside. Was it a primal need to see if her child belonged to him? Would he even be able to tell by looking at her one time?

Meg stood there, baby pressed to her chest and her face awash with relief. She was gently rocking the crying infant. An odd thought hit: No one had better get close to her or the baby. He was struck with something else that felt a lot like longing, but Wyatt didn’t go there. He’d missed Meg. He could own up to it. That’s as far as his feelings went, he reminded himself.

“I’m Wyatt Jackson.” He stuck out his hand to the park worker. “And I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”

The man bent forward, panting as he took the outstretched hand. “Name’s Cecil. And I’m just—” he paused to take a breath “—glad I was there to help.” Cecil grabbed at his right side. “He got away, ditched the stroller by pushing it toward traffic. I had to make a choice to save her or catch him.” He paused long enough to take in another breath. “His back was to me the whole time. I couldn’t get a good look at his face.”

“You did the right thing, Cecil.” Relief washed over Wyatt. This morning had been right up there with... He didn’t want to think about the other depressing event that came with the holidays.

The baby was in her mother’s arms, safe. Crisis averted. That was all he would allow himself to focus on.

“Are you okay to walk?” he asked Cecil.

The man nodded.

The crime scene had been cordoned off, and a deputy was asking people to go back to work or home. Stephanie flew toward Meg and the baby; tears streamed down both women’s faces.