Weep In The Night (27 page)

Admitting the truth felt good. “No. She's my boss. Nothing more.”

She edged closer still.

He released her hand and embraced her.

She clung to him a long time and then raised her head. “One last thing. Thank you for the flowers.”

Her lips inches from his, he lowered his head. He gazed into her eyes, asked for permission. Receiving her consent, he pulled her close.

Her soft, sweet lips responded to his kiss and Bowen sighed, deep in his soul. This was where he belonged.

 

 

 

 

35

 

Standing at the dresser mirror, Sadie gently touched her lips. What had come over her? In the warm, safe harbor of Bowen's arms, kissing him had seemed the most natural thing to do. Still determined to sever ties with him, she stared at her reflection. Is that really what she wanted? If she survived the night, she'd contemplate her future. But she couldn't plan anything until she had Hannah safe in her arms.

Her denim jacket wouldn't snap over the vest. She had no other, so it would have to do. After inserting the ear bud, she picked up her purse. The bulky, brown fake leather bumped her hip. Too much. She withdrew her slim billfold and squeezed it into her jacket pocket.

Ready or not, the time had come. Sadie took one last sniff of the carnations before walking down the hall on surprisingly steady legs.

Bowen waited at the back door, his vest adding inches to his chest. “Take your pick. The SUV or Smitty's car.”

“I'll take the SUV.”

He gave her the keys and folded his fingers over her hand. “Remember the route?”

She nodded.

“It's time, then. Let's go.” On the way outside, Bowen's phone rang. He kept hold of her hand while he answered it. “Hello.” He listened and then said, “I expected as much. Thanks for the call.”

Holding the car door open for Sadie, he gave her the gist of Ginger's conversation. “She has notified LAPD, the FBI, and WITSEC. Somehow she convinced them to let Erik remain in charge. We'll have all the backup we need.”

Sadie drove away first, keeping an eye on Bowen's lights in her rearview mirror. Close to the park they disappeared and Sadie felt his loss as if he had physically abandoned her. She parked, slipped out of the car, and crossed to the building alongside the tennis courts. By the SUV's clock, she had fifteen minutes to wait for Lonnie—assuming he'd be punctual.

Quiet chatter in her ear reassured her that Erik had his crew in place and her in their sights. Occasionally Bowen added a word of support.

At five minutes before twelve, Smitty announced a vehicle's approach. He included the time for her benefit. But the car drove away without stopping. Sadie shifted against the wall and scanned the tennis courts. Movement near the fence surrounding the courts caught her attention. She whispered concern.

“We're aware of it,” replied Erik. “Careful, Sadie. Stay in the shadows. Remember to ask for another proof of life when you talk to Lonnie.”

But it turned out to be a large dog that loped off into the night.

Anxiety attacked her insides like an erupting volcano. Whatever composure she had at the house oozed out and vaporized in the night air. Why did she ever agree to this?
Lord, give me strength. Please…

A flurry of words in her ear. Person on the scene. Sadie stiffened and searched the courts. Yes. At the far end. A man took a few steps onto the paved surface and stopped. Tall and beefy. It had to be Lonnie.

He puffed on a cigar and spoke at the same time. “Hello, Sadie. Show yourself.”

“Over here.”

“Come closer. Let me see you. Are you alone?”

“Yes.” Not exactly a lie, as she was alone at the fence. “Where's my daughter? I want proof she's alive.”

Lonnie ambled to the net stretched across the court. “All in good time. You sure have been hard to find, Ms. Malone.”

A voice in her ear reminded her that their conversation was being recorded. “How exactly did you find me?”

“Ooh. Now wouldn't you like to know that?”

“I would if you can make it brief. I want to take Hannah home, and it's getting late.”

Drawing on his cigar, he allowed the smoke to drift away. “I have my sources. Money will buy anything if the amount is high enough.”

“Like Kyle?”

Lonnie chuckled, the sound falling short of mirth. “Kyle's been helpful. But I have other, more official sources.”

She stepped closer to the fence. “Please, Lonnie. Where's my daughter?”

With his gaze on her, Lonnie dropped the cigar and stomped on it, crushing it into the concrete surface. Was that what he wanted to do with her?

Instantly, a loud crack shattered the silence and a hard projectile slammed into Sadie's chest. She flew backward and landed with a thud against the wall, winded as if a load of bricks had been stacked on her chest. She couldn't breathe. Her legs gave out, and she slid down the wall. On the ground, she opened her eyes. What happened? Dropping his cigar must have been Lonnie's signal to a hidden shooter. Thankful for the vest that had saved her life, Sadie gasped for air and winced as she placed her hand over the impact site.

Shots whizzed through the air around her, voices cursed, moaned, shouted. This could not be happening. Two bodies lay on the tennis court. One she recognized as Lela, the other in a dark uniform.

Lonnie squatted beside the net. As he withdrew a pistol from under his jacket, he teetered backward and landed on his plump derriere. Bowen forced his torso down and jabbed his boot on Lonnie's thick neck. He aimed his gun at Lonnie's head.

It's over. Where's Hannah?
Struggling to stand, Sadie scanned the court. The uniformed person on the far side moved. Lights illuminated sandy colored hair on his upper lip. Kyle. He brought his hand up and fired twice.

Bowen staggered and fell, hitting the ground hard. He groaned.

Sadie rushed around the fence towards him.

Blood seeped from Bowen's body.

 

 

 

 

36

 

Piercing pain. Bowen blinked at the bright lights.

People prodded and poked his body. Asked him questions. Someone removed his vest, tore his shirt. Fire ripped through his gut. His upper arm throbbed.

Focusing on Erik's face, Bowen tugged at his jacket. “Help me up.”

“No. You need to keep still.” Erik applied pressure to Bowen's right bicep. “Heard two shots. One hit your arm. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Gut.” Bowen grabbed Erik's hands. Wet. Gooey. He glared at his blood-covered fingers. “Who?”

Crouched next to Bowen, Erik jerked his head towards the far end of the court. “Kyle.”

Still dazed by the unexpected shots, Bowen attempted to sit. “I've got to help find Hannah.”

“No you don't. You need to get stitched up.”

 

****

 

Shooed out of the way, Sadie chewed on her lower lip while Erik and Smitty tended to Bowen. Men and woman in uniform swarmed over the tennis courts. Lonnie slumped near the fence, his wrists bound in flexi-cuffs. Two officers escorted a woman in handcuffs and forced her to sit by the fence several yards from Lonnie. Nicole? She was in on it, too?

For a second no one paid the slightest attention to Sadie. Since Bowen didn't need her help, she focused on locating her daughter. She grabbed Lonnie by the shirt collar. “Where is Hannah? You're going to join your father in prison so why not tell me?”

An officer pulled her away.

“I must find my child. Don't you know he kidnapped her?”

“Yes, ma'am,” the young officer said. “We're scouring the park.”

Lonnie's smirk hit Sadie like a poisoned dart. Somehow he figured they wouldn't find Hannah. What had he done to her?

“Where is she? Have you hurt her?”

Arching an eyebrow, Lonnie indicated with a quick nod that she should step closer.

The officer had his back to her. Sadie bent down and sucked in quick breaths as the wounded area in her chest throbbed.

“She'll be dead before they find her,” Lonnie's whispered words jabbed at Sadie's heart.

Glacial ice flowed through her veins as she backed away. She never had the chance to ask for proof of life. Claws of fear ripped her insides. What now? Glancing at Lonnie, his words echoed in her brain.
Before they find her.
So Hannah had to be close. The officers were searching everywhere, their flashlights bobbing around the park like giant fireflies.

Overcome with panic, Sadie clung to the fence and banged her head against it. The words Hannah uttered to her on the phone played over and over in her mind.
I'm scared, Mama. I'm scared. The carpet's scratchy.

Sadie stopped. Carpet? What carpet? Old memories surfaced.

Hannah had exceptionally sensitive skin. She did not like certain carpets in their home, and she hated to be in the back of their SUV when they watched a fireworks display or used the area as a table while at the beach.

There certainly was no carpet around here. But there were cars. She must be in a car. Where was Lonnie's vehicle? While waiting for him, she recalled seeing headlights on the other side of the park. Everyone had expected him to arrive via Spruce Street. What if he parked on the other side?

Oblivious to the sharp pain in her chest, she dashed through the trees. One thing occupied her mind—find Hannah.
Please, God. Let me find her.

As two law enforcement officers ran past her, one said to the other, “They've cleared Levasseur's vehicle.”

Sadie increased her speed and caught up with them. “What? Where's his car? Please. I know my daughter is in it.”

They slowed, and the female officer asked, “You're Mrs. Malone?”

She nodded.

“Come with us. The bomb squad examined the vehicle and found no evidence of explosives.”

A cold chill iced Sadie's heart, and she gasped, unable to breathe. That possibility had never entered her mind.

They approached a dark SUV parked under a large tree. Officers brandishing high-powered flashlights surrounded it.

“Lieutenant, Mrs. Malone is here.”

A robust man in a gray suit glanced at Sadie.

What were they waiting for? Polite introductions? Panic fueled her muscles. She ran to the vehicle and set her forehead against the cold glass. “We're coming baby. Hang on. Don't worry.” She grabbed the door handle. Locked. “No. No. Break into the car. My child's in there.” Sadie yelled at the officers as she clawed at the window.

One of the men used his flashlight to smash the driver's side window, and unlocked the doors.

Sadie wrenched open the back hatch and found her little girl, wrapped in a drab olive green coverlet. She tore away the motel spread and scooped her up, wailing as the child's limp body hung in her arms.

 

****

 

EMTs secured Bowen onto the gurney. As they wheeled him into the hospital, a nurse asked his name.

“Bowen Boudine.”

An elevator ride. Masked people moved him.

“Bowen, you're going to have surgery on your arm.” Medication added to his I.V. “You'll start to feel drowsy real soon.”

While he waited for the drug to kick in, the horrific night replayed like a nightmare on a looped tape. Sadie down, but OK. Lonnie smirking. His foot on Lonnie's neck. The furnace-hot anger roiling through him as he aimed the pistol at that monster's head.

Then missiles had struck his gut and arm.

One bullet hit the vest over his abdomen and the other pierced his arm. The vest saved his life. Saved him. Why did those words hold a double meaning? Before he could process the thought, a welcome blackness descended over him.

 

 

 

 

37

 

A medical technician inserted an I.V. into Hannah's arm. Another monitored her pulse rate, blood pressure, and ran numerous other checks. One thing he said Hannah had going for her—she could breathe unassisted. Instead of intubating her, he placed an oxygen mask over her face.

Thank You, Lord.

Sitting with Hannah in the back of the ambulance, Sadie tried to stay out of the way but couldn't resist holding the small, clammy hand. It was so cold and gray. Escorted by the siren's wail, they soon reached the hospital. Sadie followed the gurney into the ER, her heart aching with worry.

Asked over and over if she knew what Hannah had ingested, Sadie explained for the umpteenth time that her child had been kidnapped. She didn't know anything. At the ER doctor's, request, she signed permission forms for a gastric lavage if necessary or the administration of activated charcoal. Anything to help her child. Agonizing at the quick jab, she watched a bespectacled young man draw vials of Hannah's blood. Although an empty bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills had been found in Lonnie's pocket, test results would determine the type and amount of drug in her system.

During the agonizing stint in a small waiting room, Sadie spent the time on prayers for Hannah and Bowen. She jumped when Dr. Obregon, the ER doctor, returned.

“Good news, Mrs. Malone. We won't have to do the gastric lavage.” The doctor continued as they entered Hannah's cubicle. “We've started her on the activated charcoal. It will bind the drug in her stomach and intestines.”

“How long will she be unconscious?”

“Hard to say. We'll monitor her vitals. Right now her blood pressure and heart rate are down. Temperature is a little low, but we should see an improvement in the next hour or two.” He checked the digital readout on the machines hooked up to Hannah.

While the doctor worked on Hannah, a slim, olive skinned woman entered. She held out her hand. “Hi. I'm Elia Valdez. We spoke on the phone. I'll be working with you.”