Cinderella's Big Sky Groom (19 page)

D
eep in the night, she woke with a cry.

Ross reached for her. Downstairs, the clock struck two.

“Bad dream?” He held her close.

She dragged in a shuddery breath and nodded against his chest. “About Sara. She was calling me. I couldn't find her. And then…we were in my classroom. She said, ‘You forgot my puppy, Miss Taylor. You know that you did.”'

His lips brushed her hair. “What puppy?”

She put her hand on his chest. She loved that, the feel of him against her fingertips. “Sara told me a few months ago…it was my birthday, as a matter of fact, right before you came in the door. Remember?”

She felt his nod. “That's right. Sara was there with you that day.”

“She was…teasing me, really. About how she
couldn't tell me what my birthday present would be. She's just such a talker. She'll get going and you can't get her to stop. We used to have a signal. I would pretend I was pulling a zipper across my lips. And she would giggle and say, ‘I know. Zipper my lip….' Oh, Ross…”

“It's all right,” he murmured. “Come on, now. It's all right…”

She lifted her hand from his chest and brushed the tears away. “I…about the puppy…”

“I'm listening.”

She laid her hand on his chest again. It felt so right there, against his warmth and his strength. Lightly, she rubbed. The crisp hair felt silky, so alive, so very real.

“The puppy,” he reminded her.

“Yes. The puppy.” A wobbly little smile came. She felt it, tugging at the edges of her mouth. “It was my birthday. And we were waiting for Danielle to come. And Sara got to rambling, about Christmas, and how she wanted a puppy. A puppy that would grow up to be like Jenny's dog, Sugar. Sara said she really, really wanted that. I made a mental note to mention it to Danielle. But somehow…”

He knew what she was going to say. “You never got around to it.”

She lifted herself up, so she could see him. The room was dim, the one light on the nightstand turned down low. But his eyes were clear to her, and that was all that mattered. “Oh, Ross. I just keep thinking, what if she never gets her puppy, never sings her little duet with Jenny at the Christmas pageant, never even
has
another Christmas? What if she's—?”

“Shh,” he said. “No what ifs, remember?”

“Yes. Yes, I know you're right….”

He kissed her, a tender, seeking kiss, slowly pushing her back into the pillows as he did it, curving his body over hers. Then he lifted his mouth, just a fraction.

He spoke against her lips. “She'll come back. Remember? Your town psychic said so.”

“But
you
said—”

“What the hell do I know? I'm only a man.”

“But—”

“Don't argue. Just believe.”

The tears rose again. Was she dreaming? Or had Ross Garrison just told
her
to believe?

“Do it,” he commanded. Then he said it a second time. “Believe.”

“I—”

He kissed her again, and she forgot how to speak.

She forgot everything but his mouth on hers, his hands roaming her body, tender and insistent, finding all her secret places and opening them, arousing them.

His mouth followed his hands, downward.

She clutched his dark head as his mouth found her. She felt his tongue, stroking her, bringing stars and moons to spin behind her eyelids, until she rolled her head on the pillow and cried out, lost to all but the fulfillment pulsing and shimmering out from his stroking tongue to every nerve she possessed.

A few minutes later she helped him with the little foil packet, removing the condom and sliding it down over the thick length of him.

He guided her to the top position. She rode him,
looking down into his face, thinking, I love you…. And yes. Oh, yes…I will believe….

He surged up into her. She took him deep. They cried out as one. The clock struck the half hour. They smiled at each other. And then they settled back down to steal a few hours of sleep.

 

The clock was just striking nine when the phone rang. Lynn woke to a moment of panic, thinking she had to get to school, that her students would all be there, waiting, wondering where their teacher was.

But then she remembered. Today was Saturday.

Saturday. No school.

And Sara was missing….

Ross reached over and snatched the phone from the nightstand. “Garrison here.”

Lynn heard the murmur of a voice at the other end of the line.

Then Ross asked, “Half an hour ago?”

“Is it Sterling?” she whispered.

He held up a hand to silence her, then gave her a nod. “All right,” he said into the phone. “Yes. Ten-thirty. My office.”

“Ask him about Winona. Did they talk to her?”

He patted the air for silence, listened to Sterling some more. Then he muttered more agreements, said, “We'll see what we can do. What about the Sheppard woman? Anything there?”

She heard Sterling start talking again, and couldn't stop herself from urging, “Ross. Please. Winona…”

Another curt nod, then, “Sterling. By the way, did you talk to the Cobbs woman?…Yes. I know Lynn called you…Yes. All right. I understand. And I'll see you at ten-thirty….”

He dropped the phone back in its cradle.

“What?” she demanded, dragging herself up against the headboard. “What's happened?”

He sat up, too. “They got a ransom demand. At eight-thirty this morning. A call from a pay phone. They couldn't trace it, damn it. They didn't even have a chance to try. The call came to Sterling's house.”

“
Sterling's
house?”

“That's what I said. They had no equipment set up there. They thought, if anything, the call would come at Danielle's. They were ready there. But no such luck.”

“The demand…what was it?”

“A million dollars.”

“Oh, my Lord.”

“A million dollars,” Ross repeated. “For the return of Jennifer McCallum.”

Lynn gasped. “
Jenny?
But—” Understanding dawned. “Wait a minute. The coats…Jenny and Sara switched coats. Jenny's name is sewn inside her collar. Those horrible men must think—”

“Yeah. They think they've got Jennifer. And apparently they know about the Kincaid fortune.”

“Ross. It's coming out as Winona predicted. Remember what she said. ‘They will take the wrong twin….”'

He swore. “It does look that way, doesn't it?”

“But wouldn't Sara have told them—” A small cry escaped her. “Oh, Ross. Why didn't she tell them? Unless she's—”

“Don't jump to conclusions,” he ordered gruffly. “It's possible they didn't give her a chance to tell them. Or she could be keeping her mouth shut.”

Lynn closed her eyes, let out a moan. “But Sara never keeps her mouth shut.”

“Remember. She's got to be scared out of her wits. Terror can be a real silencer.”

“Yes. Oh, yes. That's possible, isn't it?” Lord, she thought, look where we are. To the point where we're hoping Sara is terrified.

Appalling. Sick. To wish terror on a five-year-old.

But Lynn did wish it. If it increased the chances that Sara would come back to them alive.

“We're going to play along,” Ross said. “They haven't put out those flyers yet with Sara's picture on them. Now they won't put them out. We'll try to contain it, talk to everyone who knows the facts and insist that they keep their mouths shut.”

She thought of Winona again. And of Lily Mae, Winona's dearest friend. And Mrs. Parchly. And her own sister. All of them loved nothing so much as to share what they knew. “Half the town has to know by now.”

“We'll do all we can.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. What about the ransom?”

“We're going to pay it.”

“How?”

He was already pushing the covers back. “Look, I've got to get moving. I'll tell you everything. Later.”

“But what about the woman? What about Angela Sheppard?”

He swung his feet to the rug and then paused to look back at her. “She regained consciousness last night. Shane McBride interviewed her. He got nothing. Apparently the blow to her head has affected her short-term memory. She doesn't seem to have a clue
what's going on—and I do have to get going.” He leaned back, canted toward her and pressed a quick, savage kiss on her mouth. “I need to get to my office, go over the Kincaid Trust documents. We've got a meeting about this in an hour and a half.” He slid away and stood.

Lynn leaned across the bed and grabbed his hand. “One more thing. Winona?”

He gave a single shake of his head. “Nothing. Sherrif Rawlings talked to her. She said she wasn't ‘getting anything' on the situation, but that she would contact him immediately if anything came to her.”

She released him with a sigh. “That's…disappointing.”

He said nothing. He was already striding toward the bathroom, heading for a shower.

Lynn sat there in the tangled bed for a moment, her shoulders slumped, wondering what the world was coming to.

But then she ordered some starch into her sagging backbone and jumped from the bed. She gathered up her clothes and put them on, then ran downstairs to get the coffee going.

Ross kissed her goodbye at nine-forty.

She pressed herself against him and put her whole heart in that kiss.

“Call me,” she begged. “After the meeting…”

He said that he would. Then he got into his Mercedes and she climbed into her Blazer. She followed him down the long driveway.

He left her behind when they got to town. He turned for his office and she turned for her house.

At home she showered, then made some calls. To Trish and then to Mrs. Parchly, letting them know of
the new developments, warning them not to tell other people that it was Sara and not Jenny the two thugs had kidnapped.

Then she waited. The minutes seemed like centuries.

Finally, at eleven-thirty, the phone rang.

It was Ross, calling as he'd promised he would to report on the meeting he'd just had with Sterling.

He said what she already knew. There was no way that Danielle could come up with a million dollars in the next day or two. So Sterling and Jessica had decided they wanted the Kincaid Trust to pay the ransom. Ross had studied the terms of the trust. It was stretching it a little, but he was making arrangements to free up the money.

He also said the McCallums were worried for Jenny, that she might still be in danger should the kidnappers learn they'd taken the wrong child. Arrangements had been made for Jenny to stay someplace safe for a while. Ross said he couldn't tell her where. The fewer people who knew, the better for everyone.

Lynn had to agree. “Now what?” she asked.

“Now we wait,” he said. “The kidnappers said they'd call soon with further instructions.”

He said goodbye right after that. Lynn stood by the phone, feeling useless and frustrated.

There had to be
something
that she could do.

The idea came to her like the proverbial bolt out of the blue.

Was it crazy?

Maybe.

Silly?

Perhaps a little.

But, as Sterling McCallum had said last night, at this point, anything was worth a shot.

She looked up Winona's number. The woman took six rings to answer the phone. Lynn chewed her lip and waited.

Finally she heard the psychic's voice. “Winona's Stop 'n Swap. One man's trash is another man's treasure.”

Lynn said hello—and then made her request.

Winona hedged a little. “Child, the spirits are not a radio program. You can't just…flip a dial and expect to tune in.”

“Please, Winona. Won't you please try?”

Winona sighed and agreed that she would.

“Would you like me to come out there, to the Stop 'n Swap?”

“No, dear. I'll come to you.”

“When?”

“An hour?”

“I'll be waiting.”

Exactly sixty minutes later, Lynn opened the door to admit the psychic—and Lily Mae Wheeler, as well.

“I hope you don't mind, honey.” Bracelets ajingle, Lily Mae patted her hair, which was now blond. “I just happened to be out there at Winona's when you called, looking over some earrings she found in a cigar box. I had to come along.”

They settled in the living room. Lynn had her red shoe ready. She handed it to Winona.

Winona went through the motions, holding the shoe to her breast, closing her eyes, rocking back and forth.

Lynn and Lily Mae waited, still as statues, afraid
to move lest they disturb whatever currents of psychic energy Winona might be trying to receive.

Finally Winona's eyes popped open. She let out a gusty breath. “I'm sorry. There's nothing. Just nothing at all.” She looked down at the shoe. “It's just a shoe to me now. And hugging it feels…pretty darn foolish, I must say.”

Lynn had that urge again: to scream. To tear her hair. She jumped to her feet. “Maybe some tea, do you think? I have Oolong, and herbal tea. We could…draw all the curtains. And…candles. Yes. I have candles, in the kitchen drawer, for when the power goes out. We could—”

“Honey.” Lily Mae was shaking her blond head. “You've got to settle down….”

“No. No, this will work. It
has
to work. Just…stay there. I think we can skip the tea. But the curtains. And the candles. I'm sure they will help.”

The two older women shook their heads. Lynn ignored them. She flew to the kitchen drawer, got the votive candles in their little jars, and the matches as well. When she returned to the living room, Lily Mae was already up, drawing the curtains.

Lynn lined up the candles on the coffee table. “There are six of them. Is six a good number?”