Into the Whirlwind (4 page)

Meg read the message loud and clear. She looked from him to her father. “I need your money, Dad. I know how much you love Charlie so I know I can count on you for that. But I need Dirk's experience, his professionalism. I've seen the way he handles himself in dangerous situations. He knows what he's doing. I trust him to bring Charlie home.”

O'Brien cast him a forbidding glance. “You're him, aren't you? Her mother and I, we knew there was someone. Someone she met on the tour.”

“I was her bodyguard,” he said carefully, not looking at Meg. “We got to know each other fairly well.” Now that was an understatement. They hadn't spent a lot of time in bed—they'd both had jobs to do and there was a killer on the loose. But if he closed his eyes, he could still see the tiny birthmark on the inside of her thigh, remember the way it tasted beneath his tongue.

“It was more than that,” her father said with an all-too-knowing glance. “I saw the way she was after you left. But I won't press the issue. As much as I'd rather do this my way, Charlie is Meg's boy. If she trusts you that much, I have to trust you, too.”

Dirk made no reply. The more Meg talked about him, the less he understood why she had broken things off. Clearly, she had cared for him more than he had believed.

“Have you done this kind of thing before?” O'Brien asked. “Handled kidnapping cases, I mean.”

“Yes. I've worked several ransom cases.”

“And you brought the person safely home?”

He wasn't going to lie. “The first two, yes. The third time the woman who'd been abducted was killed before the ransom call was ever made.”

Meg made a sound in her throat.

“That isn't going to happen this time—is it?” O'Brien said. It wasn't a question.

Dirk glanced at Meg. Her face had gone pale, making the row of nearly invisible freckles across her forehead stand out.

“No, sir, it isn't. I'm not going to let it. I'm going to make sure Charlie comes home to his mother.”

O'Brien's thick shoulders relaxed and he nodded.

Dirk prayed it was the truth.

Chapter Four

Meg sat next to her father on the living room sofa. “Have you told Mom yet?”

“No, and I don't intend to. You know how she worries. She would be gravely upset and there isn't a damn thing she could do.”

Her dad had always been protective of her mother. Patsy O'Brien was a frail sort of woman, though not nearly as weak as her father believed. Still, he was right. Her mother would be inconsolable. If she were there, she would only make the situation more difficult for all of them.

Meg looked up to see Dirk walking into the living room. She had always loved the way he moved, the long, impatient strides tempered by a sort of sauntering grace. She liked the way he wore his jeans, low on his hips, the faded fabric washed to a softness that outlined the muscles in his legs.

He walked up in front of her father, who slowly rose from the sofa. Her dad was over six feet, but Dirk was taller.

“I've given you some time with your daughter, time to sort all this out in your head. Now I've got some questions you need to answer. Questions I hope will get us closer to bringing your grandson home.”

“All right.”

Both men sat down, her dad returning to his place beside her on the sea-green, pillow-backed sofa, while Dirk sat down in a matching overstuffed chair.

Dirk leaned forward. “Let me start by saying revenge is sometimes a motive in kidnapping cases. Is there anyone you can think of, Mr. O'Brien, who might have taken Charlie to get payback for some kind of wrong he believes you've done?”

“No, of course not.”

“You might want to give yourself a moment to think about that, sir. Your grandson's life depends on your honesty.”

Her dad released a slow breath. “I'm a businessman, Reynolds. I'm worth a good deal of money. Have I made enemies along the way? Yes. Is there someone among them who would go after my grandson for revenge—I don't know. I don't think so, but there's no way to be completely sure.”

“Fair enough. Let me ask you this: Is there anyone who might be trying to recover his money from a loss he feels you're responsible for?”

Her father frowned, pursed his lips, then started nodding. “Yes, I see what you mean. Most of the companies Burton-Reasoner owns have been profitable, but there have been a few that failed. If the doors were closed and someone lost his job—his paycheck—perhaps he would feel the ransom money was simply what's owed him.”

Dirk nodded. “His lost wages plus all the pain and suffering he'd endured.”

“I suppose it's possible.”

“Any of those failed companies in this area?”

Her father started to shake his head.

“What about Solar-Renew?” Meg reminded him. “They closed down two years ago. I remember there was a lot of grumbling among the employees when it happened.”

“Yes, yes, you're right. A couple of the top execs lost their jobs. Marcus Dunham and Bob Algreen were older, close to retirement age. I don't know if they were ever rehired anywhere else.”

“I need their contact info. And a list of all the employees who lost their jobs when the plant closed down.”

“I can do that,” her father said. “Tomorrow, I'll call—”

“Tonight, sir. If it's possible. Time is of the essence in a case like this. It's going to take a while to process the information.”

Her dad flashed him a look she could have sworn held a hint of respect, rose from the sofa and pulled out his cell.

“My secretary makes a small fortune,” he said. “A few evening hours won't hurt her.” As her father walked out of the living room to make the call, Meg went over to where Dirk stood beside his chair, staring toward the window. The drapes had been closed throughout the house, yet he looked as if he wished he could be on the outside looking in.

“I know you don't want to be here,” Meg said softly. “But I'm really glad you are. Watching you work, knowing you're helping us, is the only thing that's keeping me from falling apart.”

He turned, his gaze searching her face. Their eyes held for a moment, then Dirk glanced away. “We're moving ahead. As soon as we get the info from your dad, I'll call Sadie again. She'll be running the names I already e-mailed, looking for something that might click. I'll have her go to work on your dad's list, too.”

She nodded.

“Look, why don't you go upstairs and get some rest like Mrs. Wills? If the kidnappers were going to call tonight, they would have done it by now.”

Meg's eyes burned. “There's no way I can sleep. If I close my eyes, I'll just imagine what might be happening to Charlie. I can't stand to think of him hungry or crying. I can't stand to think of him missing his mom.” Her throat closed up. “Oh, God, Dirk, I can't bear the thought of losing him.”

He took a step toward her, stopped himself before he reached her. “Nothing's going to happen to your son. You can't think that way. It isn't fair to Charlie. All right?”

She swallowed, tried not to wish Dirk had kept walking, that he had pulled her into his arms. She tried not to wish she could lose herself in his hard-muscled body.

She tried to remember why she had so brutally ended their affair. But all she could see was the look on Dirk's face when she had sent him away.

* * *

Dirk's cell phone started playing Jason Aldean's “Burnin' It Down,” a rock country song that was currently his favorite. He pulled the phone out of his jeans pocket, saw Luke's name, and took the call.

“I'm coming in through the back,” Luke said. “Don't shoot me.”

Dirk's mouth edged up. “I'll open the door.” The line went dead. Dirk made his way to the door leading into the backyard off the laundry room. He glanced through the window, turned the dead bolt, and opened the door.

Luke appeared like a specter out of the darkness, dressed completely in black: cargo pants and a turtleneck sweater, a black knit cap pulled low on his forehead, streaks of greasepaint smeared across his cheeks.

When he stepped inside, Dirk closed and locked the door. As they walked into the kitchen, a little
screech
came from across the room. Dirk looked up to see Meg standing with a hand at her throat.

“Who's that?”

Meg knew Ethan and Nick, but she had never met Luke Brodie. “Meg, meet Ethan's brother, Luke. I told you I was going to call for backup.”

“Yes, of course. I'm sorry. My nerves are kind of on edge.”

“Understandable,” Luke said. “Considering the circumstances.” He dragged his cap off, dislodging his sun-streaked, short-on-the-sides, longer-on-top, brown hair. Raking his fingers through the ends, he smoothed the strands back in place.

“I feel like I already know you,” Meg said. “Dirk spoke of you highly. It's good to finally meet you.”

Dirk didn't miss the wariness in Luke's blue eyes as he sized Meg up. Earlier, she had changed into gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Dirk was damned glad.

A La Belle model had to be tall and perfectly proportioned. Not stick thin like a high-fashion model, but toned and fit and lushly curved in all the right places. Dirk knew from personal experience why the company had chosen Megan O'Brien as one of their top ten.

Luke's intense gaze swung to Dirk. “Nobody out there. I been watching awhile. If the house was being surveilled, I would have known.”

Dirk just nodded. Luke was Delta. If Luke said it was clear, it was clear.

“So no one's watching what we do,” Dirk said. “They're confident. Overconfident and arrogant would be my guess. They know the family dynamics. Know her dad's got the bucks, know how he feels about his grandson. They're sure he's going to pay.”

“Yeah, and they're dead certain he won't risk bringing in the cops. Got to be multiple people, just like you figured, each member of the group contributing information.”

“Which gives them the whole picture,” Dirk finished. He glanced over to see Luke watching Meg, giving her the fish-eye, studying her as if she were floundering on dry land, needing his help to get back in the water.

Luke was a good friend. He didn't like the way Meg had jerked him around. Dirk didn't much like it either.

But this was business, nothing more. There was a little boy to bring home. Luke was a bounty hunter. He found people for a living. Dirk was grateful for his help.

Dirk looked at Meg. “So name a person or persons who would know your schedule on Wednesdays.”

“Mrs. Wills, of course,” Meg said, “but Rose would never hurt—”

“Someone else. Your trainer, right?”

“Yes, but I don't think David—”

“You put his contact info on your list, yes? So Sadie already has it.”

“That's right.”

“Who else had the kind of info they needed? Your trainer wouldn't know what time the baby goes down for his nap, but the babysitter would. You mentioned her before.”

Her eyes flashed to his. “Yes, Pamela would know. Charlie goes down for his nap at the same time every day. Pam works weekends whenever I need her. She also subs for Rose if she gets sick or takes time off to visit her grandkids.”

“She on your list?”

“Yes.”

“You know where she lives?”

“She has a small apartment a few miles away. She also works part-time at a little boutique, but it would be closed by now.”

“The kidnappers need someone to take care of your son. A woman who already knows him, has a rapport with him, would be the obvious choice.”

Hope infused her face. “You think Pamela has Charlie at her apartment?”

Dirk shook his head, smothering the hope. “I doubt he's there. Too risky. But I'm thinking Pamela may not be there either. If that's so, she may be taking care of Charlie somewhere else.”

“Why don't I pay the lady a visit?” Luke shoved away from the kitchen counter. “If she's home, she'll never know I was there. If she isn't, we need to find her.”

Edwin O'Brien walked into the kitchen just then. His clothes, a navy blue V-neck sweater over a starched white shirt, were beginning to look rumpled. One glance at Luke, dressed head to foot in black, face covered in greasepaint, and O'Brien's eyebrows shot up.

“What the devil ... ?”

“Edwin O'Brien, meet Luke Brodie. Luke works with me at Brodie Operations. He's checked the area, found no surveillance. That's good, gives us a chance to move around.”

O'Brien started nodding. “Yes, I can see where that's a good thing to know.”

“Luke's going to pay a visit to the babysitter. There's a chance she's one of the people involved.”

“Good God.” He turned a sharp look on Meg. “Didn't you vet her? Surely you didn't just hand your son over to some woman off the street.”

“Take it easy, Mr. O'Brien,” Dirk warned. “None of this is Meg's fault. So far, there's no proof the babysitter had anything to do with this.”

“She had references, Dad. Very good ones. I'm still not convinced she'd do anything to hurt Charlie.”

“I need her address,” Luke said. Meg wrote it on the notepad next to the telephone on the wall, ripped off the page, and handed it to Luke.

“I'll be back,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen, back through the laundry room door, and disappeared into the darkness.

“You got that info on Solar-Renew?” Dirk asked O'Brien.

“I had my assistant send it to my iPhone and also to Meg's e-mail address. I figured that would be the best place to retrieve it.”

They'd set up her laptop on the dining room table. Dirk walked back to the dining area in the living room, leaned down, and pulled up the attachment. There was a list of thirty names, former employees. There were asterisks next to two of them, employees who'd made threats against Edwin O'Brien personally.

But the info was two years old. He needed to know what those employees had been doing since their layoff from Solar-Renew. And he needed to know what Marcus Dunham and Bob Algreen, the corporate execs, had been up to.

“I need to get this to Sadie.” He sat down in front of the laptop and forwarded the names, including Dunham and Algreen, to Sadie's e-mail address.

His cell rang a few minutes after Sadie got the info. Dirk saw her name on the screen and pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, sweetness.”

“Don't you sweetness me. In case you haven't noticed, it's after midnight. That's way past my bedtime and I'm still at the office.”

“It's way past Charlie's bedtime, too. You can sleep late in the morning. What have you got for me?”

The humor was gone from her voice. “Checked out the housekeeper just in case. Rose Wills has two kids, four grandkids, and a comfortable savings account. No reason to think she's involved.”

“I don't think so either. What else?”

“Went through all the maintenance folks. Gardener—illegal, barely speaks English. Does good work, according to the reviews he gets on Angie's List. I don't think he's got the juice to pull off something this complicated.”

“So not the gardener. Who else?”

“Not the carpet-cleaning guys, either—father and son, own their own business. No priors, nothing that looks suspicious. Took a look at the guy at the gym, Meg's trainer, David Wilkerson. College grad, works as a senior lab tech at the hospital in the evenings. Does physical training part-time. No connections to anything shady. Tidy little savings account.”

“So he doesn't need the money.”

Sadie scoffed. “Everyone needs ten million bucks.”