“Barry screwed up the first abortion, but he didn’t tell the senator?” Not exactly the story Norman had fed Amelia an hour earlier. “How did our mysterious Serpent learn about it?”
“The picture places you at the Germany Embassy on July 4
th
, Colonel.” Inhaling a sharp breath, Ford squared off her shoulders. “You said you met Hope’s father, Lt. Norm Craig, in Germany. I checked every branch of the military. There was no American pilot by that name and no mishap. Sept 1
st
, on the same day Barry sent his patient to a hospital,
you
were admitted to an undisclosed medical facility in critical condition. Your baby wasn’t expected to survive. When she was born at the end of December, your daughter weighed less than 4 lbs. The size of a baby born two months premature. If you’d been exposed to a chemical agent during a secret mission to the Middle East, like your record shows, she would have suffered more serious birth defects than just deafness. Something in your life story doesn’t add up.”
Flabbergasted by the deputy’s audacity, Amelia slumped on the couch. “You hacked into the military database, broke the encryption, and accessed my medical record?”
Rocking back and forth on her feet, Ford rubbed her belly. “It...it sounded like a good idea at the time.”
“Really? I’m not sure what shocks me the most, Ford. Your recklessness, your hacking skills, or your ludicrous insinuations that I have such bad taste in men?”
Next time she logged onto her computer, Amelia would send a message saying she’d authorized the search of the database. Someone needed to protect the deputy from a military investigation and a jail cell.
“You were young, Colonel. It was a party. Maybe you drank too much and Norman took advantage of you. It happens.”
Had Norman taken advantage of her, Amelia wouldn’t have hesitated exposing him. His political career would have been over before it had even started—and Hope wouldn’t be missing.
“Didn’t I tell you I was already pregnant in July? I went to the party to eat, not drink. The Army sanctioned my tragic love story with a pilot to cover up for my presence in the Middle East. If you value your freedom, you’ll forget everything you read.”
“The Army sent you behind enemy lines while you were
pregnant
?”
The horrified look on Ford’s face stirred the guilt that had engulfed Amelia when she’d realized she placed her precious baby in harm’s way.
In a futile attempt to contain her raw emotions, Amelia held her head with both hands. Since Hope’s disappearance, her mind had refused to shut down. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to protect her sanity.
“I didn’t know I was pregnant when I accepted the first mission at the end of May.” Had the rebuke come from anyone else but an expectant mother, Amelia would have terminated the discussion, not relived it. “The scars on my body gained the respect of...of a man who would become a valuable source of information. He wouldn’t meet again unless I was the translator. Once it became known I was pregnant, additional measures were taken during the meetings. The explosion came out of nowhere.” The acrid smell from long ago invaded her nose and the invisible smoke burned her eyes, unleashing tears of regrets and frustration. “If not for the extensive protective gear I was wearing, I’d be dead. For months afterward, my life hung by a thread. Hope’s growth slowed to a crawl, but she didn’t suffer any lasting complications. Her deafness was the result of a vaccine I received at West Point, not the explosion. If I’d known someone would one day mistake her for Norman’s daughter, trust me, I would have given the dead pilot a different name.”
“You were pregnant before you deployed?” A myriad of disconcerting expressions flickered across Ford’s face. “Why not give the dead pilot the name of Hope’s real father?”
At the time Amelia had been too hurt, physically and emotionally, to make a rational decision—a decision she’d come to regret with all her heart.
“Hope’s father grew up in a wealthy and influential family. When his parents made it clear I didn’t meet their expectations, I asked him to choose.” It’d been naïve of her to believe love stood a chance against his family’s wishes. That was the last time she’d issued an ultimatum she wasn’t ready to lose. “He was never part of Hope’s life.”
Ford removed her boots, and to Amelia’s bafflement, she came to sit at the end of the couch.
“With all due respect, you never gave him a chance. Why didn’t you tell him?”
The tone of the future mother bordered insubordination, reminding Amelia of her younger self, before she learned to ponder her words.
“It’s complicated. And frankly, none of your business.”
“Then just humor me, Amelia. Mother to mother.” The redhead woman leaned sideways, intruding upon Amelia’s personal space. “Didn’t Hope’s father deserve to know he had a daughter?”
“So he would stay with me for the wrong reason? His parents couldn’t stand looking at me, Ford. All they saw were my scars. You really think they would have welcomed a
deaf
grandchild into their
perfect
family? After we broke up, Hope’s father became the mirror image of his own father—a cold and calculating man. My baby girl deserved better than to be rejected by her father and grandparents the way I was. Satisfied?”
“I...I didn’t realize...you were right. It wasn’t any of my business.” Sinking back into the cushion, Ford sighed. “What happened to your fist? Did it unofficially connect with an elected scumbag?”
A fresh wave of frustration washed over Amelia, negating the beneficial effects of the hot shower.
She’d confronted the senator at home. Instead of answering her questions, the man had sworn to ruin Richmond’s career for involving the Army. To curb his belligerent attitude, she’d impacted some sense through his nose.
“I helped Norman jog his memory.”
For all the good it did me.
“He and Barry grew up together. Norman paid the doctor’s gambling debts in exchange for free medical procedures. When I showed him the pictures of the six events, he only recalled the Dallas fashion show. He’d slept with both women. Couldn’t remember their names. One got pregnant. He sent her to Barry. A few days later, the good doctor emailed Norman to confirm the procedure.”
The senator had deleted the compromising message. To his aggravation, Amelia had retrieved it from his computer.
A copy of Barry’s and Serpent’s emails were on the coffee table. She handed them to Ford.
“
The girl was a bleeder
,” Ford read aloud. “
She made a mess on my kitchen table, and had she yelled any louder, she would have scared the neighbor across the street.
” The deputy grimaced in apparent outraged and disgust. “Can we arrest that guy?”
“Depends if we can locate the girl.”
And extradite Barry.
“Keep reading.”
“
Don’t worry, the problem is gone, and so am I. I moved to South America. I never want to hear from you again.
” A low growl rattled in Ford’s throat. “I hate that doctor. No wonder I couldn’t find him. He’d jumped ship. After the way Barry treated that poor girl, she may agree to help us. I identified both girls in the Dallas picture. Marianne Levine and Lexa Sheen. They work for an agency in Baltimore.”
“One of the models in Dallas was Lexa Sheen from Baltimore?” A rush of adrenaline sped through Amelia’s body. She sprang to the edge of the seat. “The dead woman in Elliot’s cottage was Alexandra Sheen. His niece. She worked for an agency in Baltimore.” As that piece of the puzzle fell into place, an image emerged, all wrapped in medical symbolism. “The emblem of the American Medical Association is a snake. Sly Serpent isn’t a snake...he’s a doctor.”
Amelia grabbed her phone and dialed her office. Capt. Jackman answered on the first ring.
“It’s Matheson. Can you look up Elliot’s service record? I need his middle name.”
The frantic clicks of a keyboard traveled to her ear. After what seemed an eternity, they stopped. “Sylvester. Charles Sylvester Elliot.”
“Sly for Sylvester. Serpent for doctor. It fits.”
As a military doctor, Elliot must have gained access to her medical record—and reached the same erroneous conclusion as Ford regarding Hope’s parentage.
“Are you saying Major Elliot kidnapped your daughter?” A long sigh whistled through the line. “Ma’am, in his record it says he suffered from PTSD after he lost two of his nurses during an attack in Afghanistan.”
In combination with post-traumatic stress disorder, the death of his niece must have sent the major over the edge. The threatening email on the coffee table was a testament to his mental instability.
“Elliot is holding the senator responsible for the death of his niece and he’s seeking revenge through my daughter.” It was the only logical explanation.
“Your daughter is feisty, ma’am. Elliot wouldn’t have taken the risk of traveling too far with her. With your permission, I’m sending a team to his house to search for anything connecting him to the area.”
In his email, Serpent threatened to kill her daughter if the senator didn’t resign within three days.
Once Elliot realizes he kidnapped the wrong girl, Hope becomes expendable regardless of the deadline.
“Send as many men as you need. We’re running out of time.”
Chapter Fourteen
Her nose bled, her head hurt, her socks were wet and sticky, and she was shackled like a dangerous criminal. It wasn’t the improvements Quest had counted on when she’d planned her escape.
I need to improve my hand-to-hand combat.
Her mother and grandfather had taught her some moves, but she hadn’t practiced them in months.
My own fault...
Crouched in the corner opposite the door, she glanced at the only window in the room. Darkness had settled outside the cabin.
Her captor had kept the ceiling light on and opened the inside shutters. Security bars mounted in the frame dashed her hope of escaping through the window.
A gaping fish hanging on the walls stared back at her with glassy eyes.
When the two goons dumped her in the snow at Slimy’s feet, she’d recognized the weirdly shaped peak of the mountain looming over the roof of the cabin. Folks in town called it Axe Peak for the deep plunge in the middle of the crest. There were caves in that mountain. She’d explored them on her days off and sent pictures of them to her mother and grandfather.
I could hide there, but I still need an escape plan.
The door opened, startling her. She fought the urge to recoil.
Looking away from her, Slimy pointed at the bed. Though she couldn’t see his mouth, from the way he gestured, she suspected he was talking to someone.
A masked man entered with a rifle strapped on his back. He carried a tall blond man in a uniform. Blood stained the front of his jacket. The goon unceremoniously discarded the injured officer on the bed
.
Someone slapped Quest’s foot. She instinctively kicked back. With her gaze locked on the blond man, she’d missed Slimy’s approach. A mistake she wasn’t about to make twice.
The smirk on his face befuddled her.
“What are you smiling at?”
“I’m going to give you two choices. The man on the bed is the sheriff. He has a bullet in his chest and I want it.” He pulled a knife from behind his back. With it, he indicated the masked man scratching the front of his pants
. Itchy.
“This is Mr. Invisible.”
“Mr. Invisible? Sure.” With the damage she’d appeared to cause with her boot, the nickname Itchy suited him better.
“Listen mouthy brat.” Slimy’s face swelled, turning a darker shade of blood. “You can either watch Mr. Invisible gut the sheriff alive, or you can do it.”
“Me?” On her mother’s insistence, she’d taken a first aid course. That was the only medical training she’d ever received, and it hadn’t included chest surgery. “Take him to a hospital.”
“That’s not an option.” Enjoyment glistened in his eyes. “If I give that fishing knife to Mr. Invisible, he’ll remove the bullet, and the heart, and the—”
“You’re a monster.”
“Your father is the monster. I’m the one avenging his crimes.” He wielded the knife in front of her. “I’m being nicer than your father ever was to his victims. I’m giving you a chance to remove the bullet and save the sheriff’s life. What will it be? Will you be a coward and watch him die? Or will you take that knife and save him?”
Her empty stomach churned at the impossible choice given to her. Either way, the death of an innocent man would be on her conscience.
Standing by the bed, his rifle aimed at the injured man, Itchy grinned through the hole in his mask.
She stood up, approached the injured man, and took his pulse. The low but steady pulsation under her fingers surprised her considering the size of the maroon stain on his jacket.
If Slimy gave Itchy the knife, the sheriff was as good as dead. She might be his only chance of survival.
I can do this...I think.
***
Her wet hair frozen stiff on her head, Amelia entered the sheriff’s office.
“We have a problem, ma’am.”
In the last few days, she’d developed an aversion to those words when issued in that specific order. “What is it, Thompson?”
Concerns etched the deputy’s young face, aging him by the minute.
That so didn’t bode well.
“Wayne River called again. His son Todd and the sheriff haven’t returned.”
“What do you mean by
haven’t returned
?” The roads were slick, the temperature had dropped below frigid, the visibility neared zero, and it was dark. Driving from Richmond’s house to his office had bordered recklessness, especially in a rental car not equipped with snow tires. “Are you saying they’re still riding in the forest?”
“Morgan and Todd went to check a remote lodge along a hiking trail. When the weather worsened, Wayne radioed them. When they didn’t answer, he decided to go look for them himself. The terrain and the visibility were so bad, he was forced to turn back less than a mile later. He can’t risk sending a rescue team without placing their lives in jeopardy. And even if he could, he can’t trust any of them until we figure out who borrowed that rake. He’s stuck in Worryland.”