Lawman's Redemption (24 page)

Funny. She'd thought that ringing was in her head, caused by decreased blood flow to her brain and pleasure worth dying for.

He spoke to the caller—Lexy, she guessed from his end of the conversation—for a few minutes, then hung up and grinned at her. “You know which sister you are?” When she shook her head—all she had the energy to do—he went on. “The sexy
one. The amazing one. The my-God-how-do-you-do-that-to-me one.”

She summoned a smile from somewhere and lazily replied, “I aim to please.”

Suddenly his expression turned serious, and he bent to kiss her. It was another of those fierce, possessive kisses, but something was different. It was as if this time…as if he was making a promise. A commitment.

And
that
was wishful thinking.

He got to his feet, shook out his boxers and jeans and wriggled into them. “Lex is ready. Guess we'd better head back that way.”

“I don't suppose you'd get my clothes for me,” she said in a sweet voice, batting her lashes at him.

“And miss the opportunity to watch you walk over there to get them?” He gave a shake of his head. “Oh, honey, obviously you've never watched yourself walk naked in heels.”

“I tend to not look at myself naked very often. You know, you've seen it once; what's the point of seeing it again?”

“That's because you don't appreciate your body the way I do.” He put his shoes on, then headed for the truck, pulling his T-shirt on as he went. A moment later he returned with her clothing.

She quickly dressed, helped him shake out and fold the quilt, then followed him to the truck. She could use a tall glass of iced water about now, plus a snooze with Brady in her comfy, cool bedroom. Then whoever awoke first could take his or her sweet time awakening the other, and they could do the deed—and experience the pleasure—all over again.

But that wasn't going to happen today. They didn't make love during the day with Lexy around. She wasn't sure if that was a little parental hangup on Brady's part, or if hormones and circumstances just hadn't jibed yet.

“So you think a house here would be nice?” he asked as he turned the truck in a wide circle, then started back the way they came.

“I think it would be great.”

His responding smile was more pleased than it should have
been. After all, it wasn't as if she would be living there with him. Oh, maybe she'd get to spend a night or two there on future visits, but she wouldn't even count on that. She didn't think she could be a part-time part of his life.

“Did Lexy say how she liked her first day's work?”

“She said it was ‘cool.' She earned as much in tips as she did in pay, but her feet hurt.”

Rather than follow back roads all the way to Heartbreak, he took a shortcut to the highway. From there, they made good time, traveling a steady ten miles an hour over the speed limit. And why not? Who was going to give the acting sheriff a ticket?

When they reached the Heartbreak Café, most of the cars that had lined Main Street were gone, and fewer than a dozen customers were visible through the plate-glass windows. Hallie saw Shay, leaning on the counter and talking to a slender brunette, but there was no sign of Lexy.

“Want me to go in and get her?” she offered.

“Sure.”

When she went inside, the bell over the door rang. “Hi, Shay. Is Lexy around?”

Slowly Shay straightened, and her smile disappeared. “She's gone, Hallie.”

In an instant, Hallie's lungs grew tight, making a breath hard to come by, and ice started spreading through her veins. “What do you mean, she's gone?”

Shay came around the counter. “She called Brady about a half hour ago, then had a piece of cake and talked to the Harris twins. Right after they left—probably…ten minutes ago—she said, ‘There's my ride,' thanked me and went outside. I haven't seen her since. I just assumed— Oh, my God, Hallie!”

For a moment Hallie stood there, too numb to think or move. “You didn't see who she got in the car with or what kind of car it was?”

Shay shook her head. “I was waiting on some customers. I just told her goodbye, then went into the kitchen.”

“Were these people here?”

Without looking at the customers, Shay nodded.

“I'd better tell Brady. I'm sure he'll have some questions.”

“I'm so sorry, Hallie,” Shay murmured.

“It's not your fault,” she said quietly as she turned toward the door.

It was
their
fault.

Brady's…and hers.

C
anyon County had never been a hotbed of criminal activity. They had plenty of small stuff to keep the sheriff's department busy—burglaries, barroom brawls, assaults, domestic disputes—but for the most part they didn't see a lot of major crimes. There had been only four homicides in the past nine years, and to the best of Brady's knowledge, there had never been a kidnapping.

Why did the first have to be Lexy?

He'd known the instant Hallie walked out of the café that something was wrong. He'd met her on the sidewalk, and in a shocked, numbed tone she'd told him Lexy was gone. He'd called the dispatcher and damn near every deputy on the payroll had shown up, whether they were on duty or not. While waiting for them, he'd questioned everyone in the café, but learned nothing. A few diners had seen Lexy leave, but no one had paid attention to where she'd gone.

Without a description of the vehicle, they couldn't even look for her, short of putting up roadblocks on every single road leaving the county, and they didn't have the manpower for that. Besides, the bastard—or bastards—already had a good head start. They could be halfway to Tulsa by now.

Still, most of the deputies were out looking for her. A purple-haired kid would be hard to miss, Mitch had remarked, and for the first time Brady had been damned grateful that she didn't look like every other teenager out there.

Ryan Sandoval came to stand beside him at the door. “Lexy knows these guys have been after her. Why would she leave with them or anyone else without kicking up a fuss?”

Staring sightlessly outside, Brady shook his head. “I don't know.”

“She told Shay, ‘There's my ride.' You're driving your patrol unit, aren't you? And she knew that?”

Brady nodded.

“Which would suggest it was…a deputy?” Ryan shook his head. “It just doesn't make sense. She couldn't mistake any other vehicle for a black-and-white SUV with a light bar.”

No, Brady silently agreed. But maybe she'd seen a deputy approaching and had gone outside, thinking it was him and Hallie, and the guys had grabbed her then. Or maybe…maybe…

Damn it, he hated this! He hated being on the other side of a police investigation, hated the sick feeling in his gut and the fear that intensified with every beat of his heart. He hated not knowing where his daughter was, and he hated like hell that he hadn't protected her. He shouldn't have let her help out Shay. He never should have left her alone unless she was safely behind bars in the courthouse basement.

“Does she have a cell phone?” Ryan asked.

Brady shook his head. Of course she did, she'd mentioned once—everyone at Marshall High had them—but she hadn't brought it with her. There wasn't anyone in Texas she wanted to call, she'd said with a dismissive shrug.

He should have gotten her one. Should have come straight back here after Hallie checked out Neely's house. Damn well shouldn't have gone all the way back to Buffalo Plains and shown Hallie the hill or made love to her. God help him, he'd gotten close to Hallie when they were standing on top of that hill, and he'd forgotten all about Lexy.

After Ryan walked away to talk with Lucy and a state trooper who'd stopped in, Brady looked over his shoulder at Hallie. She
was sitting on the nearest bar stool, legs crossed, looking cool and elegant. Anyone who didn't know her could be forgiven for thinking she seemed unconcerned, but he knew better. He could see how tightly her jaw was clenched, and the shadows in her hazel eyes, and the nervous movement of her foot.

He should go to her, put his arms around her, reassure her, but he didn't have any assurances to give. He didn't know if everything would be all right, didn't know if they would get Lexy back safe and unharmed, or at all. Those two bastards had been damned determined to grab her. It wasn't likely they'd give her back easily.

When he turned his gaze outside again, he saw a couple approaching. Automatically he opened the door for them, then stepped back.

“Hey,” Ethan James greeted him as he followed his wife, Grace, inside. He glanced at the other deputies and the somber faces, then asked, “What's up? Has something happened?”

“My daughter, Lexy, was kidnapped here this afternoon,” Brady said, his jaw clamped so tight he could barely force the words out.

“Oh, my God!” That came from Grace, holding her baby, Annie Grace, in her arms. “I'm so sorry!”

“Did you happen to see anything between four and four-thirty?”

Grace shook her head, then readjusted her glasses on her nose when she looked at Ethan. “No,” he agreed. “Nothing suspicious. But—”

“But?”

James's forehead wrinkled in a frown. “A guy came in earlier, maybe three or three-thirty—a stranger. He bought a roll of duct tape.”

The muscles in Brady's stomach clenched. If he were a kidnapper, duct tape would be his restraint method of choice. It worked for binding wrists and ankles, as well as a gag. It was quick to apply and, for removal, didn't require a key like handcuffs, a knife like rope or special scissors like Flex-cuffs.

But not all the advantages went to the crook. It was also a terrific source for fingerprints. If they found the tape. And Lexy.

“You sure you'd never seen this guy before?” Ryan asked.

Ethan shook his head. “He's not the sort I'd forget.”

“Why do you say that?”

A faint tinge of red appeared high on James's cheeks. “In the old life, I would've considered him a mark.”

In “the old life,” Brady knew, Ethan James had been a thief, a gambler and a con artist. He'd spent so much time in the Canyon County Jail when he was younger that they'd practically put his name on the cell. He'd drifted from town to town, state to state, looking for the easy money, until one day, he'd decided to straighten himself out. And he'd done it. Grace and the baby she'd been carrying had played a part in his transformation, but Ethan had done all the hard work. Brady admired him for being able to pull it off.

“What would have made him a mark?” Lucy asked from her place beside Ryan.

Ethan shrugged. “He was dressed well, wearing a couple of nice diamond rings and an expensive watch, had a Gucci wallet with a wad of cash in it, along with a couple gold cards and a couple platinum. Oh, and he was driving a Mercedes. A convertible. Pretty.”

The stool squeaked as Hallie slowly swiveled around to face them. “Blue?” she asked.

Ethan thought about it a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Kind of a silver-blue.”

Brady went to Hallie as she slid to the floor. “You think someone stole your car and Lexy thought it was you?”

Slowly she shook her head. “The first day she was in town, when I took her with me after lunch, she said, ‘Nice car. Adam has one just like it.'”

Brady stepped aside so the Jameses could get past, staring at Hallie all the while. After the tall guy had tried to grab Lexy off the street, he'd made a mental note to check into Adam Napier's background the next day. But first thing Monday morning, there had been the aftermath of Sunday's shooting to deal with, then the break-in at his house, the argument with Hallie, the second break-in, the fire, the broken wrist…. Damn it, he'd forgotten all about Napier.

“Who is Adam?” Ryan asked.

Brady's gaze remained locked with Hallie's. In addition to the shadows there earlier, there was also now fear. “Adam Napier,” he replied. “He's my ex-wife's current husband. Lives in Marshall City, Texas. Get a tag number and put it out on the radio. Have the dispatcher run him through NCIC and see if he's got a record.” When he'd asked Lexy what Napier did, her answer hadn't been the one he'd wanted to hear.
I don't know. But he makes a lot of money and has a lot of creepy guys working for him.
Sounded like someone who just might generate a hit or two with the FBI's National Crime Information Center computer.

While one of the deputies went to do as he'd ordered, Ryan asked, “Why would Lexy's stepfather kidnap her?”

“Unless…he didn't actually kidnap her,” Lucy suggested.

“Maybe her mother didn't send her here for a visit. Maybe she ran away, and her stepfather found her and is taking her home. Did you talk to her mother when she showed up?”

Brady shook his head.

“Do you think it's possible she might have lied about it?”

This time both Brady and Hallie nodded.

Lucy shrugged. “It makes sense. I mean, her stepfather drives a forty-thousand-dollar Mercedes, and she shows up in town on the bus? With no return ticket?”

Brady leaned against the counter. “It's possible Lexy lied. It's also possible that her mother put her on the bus. Sandra's not particularly maternal, and her judgment is usually flawed.”

Beside him, Hallie was shaking her head. “Even if Lexy did run away and that's why Adam is here, and he thinks he's just taking her home…. Lexy would tell him she was staying with her father. She would want to pick up her things, and she absolutely would not leave without saying goodbye to Brady.”

“And there's no legitimate reason for Napier to refuse,” Lucy conceded. “So back to the question—why would her stepfather kidnap her?”

There was a moment of heavy silence before Ryan cleared his throat. “Maybe…I'm sorry,” he said to Brady. “But maybe something's going on at home that he doesn't want her to tell anyone about.”

The ice that had frozen in Brady's chest when Hallie had told him that Lexy was missing started to spread. If Adam Napier had molested Lexy, if he'd laid so much as a hand on her, Brady would kill him and take great pleasure in it. And he'd kill Sandra, too, for allowing it to happen.

“Maybe he didn't do anything to her,” Lucy said. “Maybe she saw him do something to someone else. Maybe she witnessed some shady deal and doesn't even realize what she saw.”

“Or maybe he doesn't want her at all,” Hallie murmured.

Brady looked sharply at her. “Those bastards tried to grab her
three
times.”

Again she shook her head. “That night at the dance, they followed her for three blocks, but they never got close or did anything. When the guy tried to force her into his car…he didn't have hold of
her.
He had her backpack. And when we got mugged outside the courthouse, from what I understand, they didn't drag her away. They struggled over the backpack, and when the strap broke and they got hold of it, they ran. The first time they broke into your house, she wasn't even there, but they searched it anyway…and didn't take a thing. They certainly didn't empty your kitchen cabinets because they thought she might be hiding inside. They were looking for something, Brady.”

“Something they thought might be in the backpack,” he muttered thoughtfully.

“They didn't find it in your house, so they took the backpack. They didn't find it there, so they took…Lexy.”

“And if she doesn't have whatever it is….” Grabbing her hand, he started toward the door. “It would most likely be at your house.”

He'd never made the trip from Heartbreak to Buffalo Plains in so little time. With the emergency lights flashing, he used the siren only when traffic made it necessary. Just outside town, he screeched almost to a stop, then turned into Hallie's driveway.

The minimal furniture in the house made searching an easy prospect. Presumably, Lexy didn't have a clue what the men wanted, so she wouldn't have deliberately hidden it. But a search of the guest-room closet and the two drawers in the night table
turned up nothing that shouldn't have been there. They took the bed apart and checked between the mattress and springs, and he looked through her makeup bag while Hallie patted through the pockets of every garment in the closet, then dragged in a chair so she could see the shelf above the clothes.

They found nothing.

Silently they remade the bed, then sat down on it. “What if this guy calls and says he'll trade Lexy for whatever it is he wants,” Hallie asked softly, “only we don't have it?”

He needed to think about that—to come up with some kind of plan—but he couldn't. There were too many possible outcomes to the situation, most of them not good. He just couldn't face them at the moment.

After a time, she leaned across to hug him. “She'll be all right, Brady. She's smart and tough, like her father. She'll be fine.”

The only response he could make at the moment was to slide his arm around her waist. Maybe whatever the men wanted had been destroyed in the fire, and once Lexy persuaded Napier of that, he would release her. Yeah, sure, and face kidnapping charges and twenty-plus years in prison? Not likely. Unless he'd underestimated her and thought no one could possibly believe her over him.

Abruptly he got to his feet. “Let me have your keys. I want to check your car.”

“They're on the table by the front door.” Hallie watched him go, then slowly followed. She stopped on the porch, hugging herself tightly, and watched as he searched her car. The Mercedes was small, so it went quickly. Next he repeated the action in his truck, checking under seats, in the glove compartment and console, flipping the sun visors down. Finally he searched his sheriff's department vehicle. When he turned away after slamming the rear doors, he looked so dejected that she could hardly bear to look at him.

He'd just reached the top step when another black-and-white vehicle pulled into the driveway. It was Ryan Sandoval. The deputy was about Brady's age, Hallie estimated, though a few inches shorter and a few pounds thinner, and he wore a troubled
expression that she suspected had little to do with the case he found himself investigating. All was not well in Deputy Sandoval's life, and she sincerely hoped it didn't affect his job performance. They needed all the help they could get.

He came to the top of the steps, nodded politely to Hallie, then turned his attention to Brady. “Looks like Lucy might have been at least partly on the right track earlier, when she'd suggested that Lexy might have witnessed a shady deal between Napier and someone else. I called a buddy of mine at the FBI. Napier's currently under investigation by the bureau, the DEA and the IRS for drugs and racketeering. They know he's dirty. They just haven't been able to make a case yet.”