None of this made sense.
"Look, Walker." Harrison rubbed the back of his neck, contemplating his next move. "I promised you a quarter of a million dollars plus the hundred thousand you invested in Stephen's campaign for getting the newspapers to splash your municipal contract deal on their front pages. You pulled it off. I just found out the filthy tactics you used to make it happen. My first reaction was to destroy you and bankrupt your company. Instead, I'll pay you the full amount plus another million to start your new life. But I want proof that he's okay. Otherwise, the whole deal is off."
Ah. So Stratford had learned some of the details of the past weeks. Apparently, that's what was pissing him off. Although the imperious SOB had made it clear from the beginning that he wasn't worried about treading lightly when it came to getting the job done, even if it meant putting his son's neck in a vise and twisting. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.
"Who'd you talk to, Henderson?' Walker asked. "Or did one of your sons ante up?" A chuckle. "No pun intended."
"A million more, Walker. Yes or no?"
"Stick it," Walker replied calmly, resting his hip against the sofa. "This is about more than money. Your son is one screwed-up little boy. And a dishonest one, too. Let's see—he misappropriated funds, withheld information from the police, not to mention that gambling itself is illegal. He's hardly a role model for the New York State Senate, much less the White House. And I'm in a position to keep him from getting there."
Philip gave an offhanded shrug. "On the other hand, I could look the other way. If I choose to do that, it'll cost you a lot more than a one-time payoff. The million's fine for now. As for the future, I want backing, and I don't mean just that damned municipal contract. When the mayor's jurisdiction expands from Leaf Brook to the whole Empire State, I want to go along for the ride. I want a senator who'll do whatever it takes to back my projects, twist whatever arms are necessary to get me the votes I need. In return, I'll destroy all my sets of tapes— all but two. One I'll give to you, the other I'll lock up in a safe place. If, however, Stephen ever forgets where his loyalties lie, the other set of tapes will be released immediately to that shark Cheryl Lager, along with a transcript for her to print."
"What the hell are you babbling about?" Harrison blasted. "What tapes? What transcript? Have you lost your goddamn mind?"
Walker's jaw set. "Don't screw with me. It won't work. I'm talking about the tapes I have of my conversations with Stephen. The incriminating ones where I lay my cards on the table, and he agrees to bend the law to keep his gambling from becoming public knowledge. The tapes that will land your son in jail and ruin your family. You should've listened more closely to my phone message. It was cryptic but decipherable."
"What phone message?"
"The one I left you this morning."
"You didn't leave a message. You spoke directly to Stephen. And he never said anything about tapes being part of this sick plan of yours. He probably didn't care. Not with his son's life at stake."
Philip's brows drew together. "His life? I had one of my associates take his baseball cap and scare his mother by dropping it off on her doorstep."
"The same associate who ran down Julia Talbot yesterday? What was that, spite? Because you know Connor's involved with her? I knew that's what prompted your choosing Connor's Benz to rip off for whatever chop shop you're dealing with. But now, I'm wondering if it went beyond the car. After what you've done to Brian, you're obviously capable of anything. So I doubt that hit-and-run was an accident."
"Hold it." Philip interrupted Harrison's tirade, shaking his head in total astonishment. "I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. You think I'm behind that hit-and-run? Forget it, Harrison. If I were orchestrating strategic car-thefts— and I'm not saying I am—I wouldn't hire guys who plow people down. Not accidentally, and certainly not on purpose. I also wouldn't rip off cars from places that would negatively impact me. In case you didn't know it, I invested a shitload of money in that mall. The lousy publicity that goes along with a woman being run down on opening day is the last thing I want."
"What do you care? You're leaving the country anyway."
Philip stared. "Where do you get your information? I'm not going anywhere, I never laid a hand on your grandson, I wasn't behind Julia Talbot's hit-and-run, and I have no idea who took Connor's car. Oh, and I didn't speak to Stephen this morning. I left a message on your cell phone."
It was Harrison's turn to stare. Slowly, he pulled out his cell phone, which had been switched off since he'd walked into the fiasco at Stephen's house. He punched it on.
One message. Left at eleven twenty-seven a.m.
Almost exactly the same time Stephen had received the ransom call.
Harrison listened to Walker's voice, telling him they should meet to discuss the mayor's political future and how Walker Development could contribute to it. Then something about some great audio tapes he wanted him to hear, after which he'd be willing to bet the bank that Harrison would want his own set.
Aggravated and confused, Harrison punched off the phone. "What about the call to Stephen?"
"What call to Stephen?"
"Walker, I'm about to break you in two." Harrison's fists were clenched at his sides, and he looked furious enough to do it. 'The only reason I'm controlling myself is for Brian's sake. Now, where is he? Where the hell have you stashed him? Because if you don't tell me ..."
"Wait a minute." Philip stopped him in his tracks. "Are you saying someone kidnapped your grandson?"
"Are you saying you didn't do it?"
"You're damned right I am."
Harrison strode over, grabbed Walker by the throat, and shoved him against the wall. He was taller and broader than Walker in build, an advantage that was strengthened by the fact that he was fueled by rage. "You didn't demand five million in ransom so you could leave the country? You didn't tell Stephen where and when to leave the cash tomorrow? You didn't do any of that?"
"No," Walker croaked.
"Then who did?"
"I don't know." A choked swallow. "But I haven't seen your grandson since they went to Stowe."
Harrison's grip tightened. "How did you know that's where Nancy took him?"
"G-Greg Matthews."
"That's right, my son's other loyal colleague. He works for you."
A nod.
"So you hired him to grab Brian."
"No." Philip was starting to feel dizzy. "Stratford, for God's sake ..." He yanked at Harrison's hands. "Let me go. I'll make some calls, find out what happened. If I don't, then you can choke me."
"I'll do worse than that." Harrison released his grip and shoved Walker aside. "You were right about my being willing to do anything to protect my family. Anything. So don't test me. I'll tear you apart. Now, get on that phone and find my grandson."
4:57 P.M.
Stowe, Vermont
Nancy's side was aching. So was her shoulder. She shifted position and flinched. The floor was hard. She'd been lying on it for an eternity, since she'd managed to topple the chair over. The impact had hurt, but at least now she had some mobility. Even with her wrists and ankles bound, she could squirm her way toward the telephone.
She'd wriggled free of the gag. Thank God for that much. The drugs had nauseated her horribly, and she was terrified that if she vomited, she'd aspirate it and choke to death.
Sometimes she was lucid. Other times, she felt foggy and oblivious to time and motion. She'd be in one spot, fade out, then regain consciousness realizing she'd moved a short distance without remembering how she got there.
But always, it was fear for Brian that drove her.
She had to find him. She had to reach that telephone.
She'd just stopped to gasp in air and regain some strength when she heard the footsteps.
She froze.
Should she try to yell for help? Her voice was barely a croak at this point. Besides, what if it was him again? He'd be furious, and God
knew what he'd do to her.
She had to take that chance, to try, for Brian's sake.
Steeling herself, she gathered every dunce of strength she had and emitted a hoarse groan.
The sound was swallowed up by the front door as it exploded open.
Running footsteps, followed by a broken cry of "Nancy!"
It was the most familiar, the most wonderful sound in the world.
Tears she thought were long gone sprang to her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "Stephen," she whispered.
He couldn't possibly have heard her. But it didn't matter. He was beside her nonetheless.
"Oh, God. Baby, are you all right?" He didn't wait for an answer. He was untying her ropes, freeing her limbs from the horrible confines of the past two days.
He rubbed the circulation back into her hands and feet, anchoring her against his chest as he did. She was as limp as a rag doll, unable to do anything but sag against him and weep.
"Are you hurt?" Stephen demanded, tipping up her chin. "Should I get you to a hospital?"
A weak shake of her head. "Brian," she whispered.
"I know. Don't talk." Stephen stood, scooped her into his arms. "I'm getting you out of here. There's water in the car. We've got a great nurse who's just a phone call away. She'll tell us what to do. And I'll get us home."
"Stephen." Nancy clutched his shirt, giving him a pleading look. "Tell me."
He drew a harsh breath. "Walker's got Brian. He wants five million dollars by noon tomorrow. Connor's getting it. He and Julia contacted the FBI. Their agents are working with Marty. We'll find him, Nance."
She could taste the salt of her own tears. "He must be terrified. Seeing me unconscious, then being dragged away by a man in a ski mask."
"The bastard knocked you out?"
"Chloroform, I think. And some pills he dissolved and made me drink. I've been pretty out of it." She frowned, seeing the late-afternoon sky through the kitchen window. "What day is it?"
"Sunday. When did he take Brian?"
"Friday. Just before noon."
"That makes sense. Greg must have followed Cliff up here on Wednesday, then reported in. Walker had one of his thugs drive up here first thing Friday morning."
Nancy shook her head. "It wasn't a thug. It was Greg."
Anger tightened Stephen's features. "You're sure?"
"Yes. The mask didn't cover his eyes. I recognized them. It was Greg."
"Then God help him when we find him."
Something about Stephen's tone struck her, a conviction that came from deep within. And his demeanor— there was a quality of solid strength that Nancy wasn't used to. Intently, she scrutinized his face. "You're... different."
"I'm me again. Or maybe for the first time. I don't know." His knuckles drifted over her cheek. "One thing I do know is that I love you. And if what Cliff said is true, if I'm lucky enough to still have you, I'll never abuse your love again. You have my word."
"You really mean that, don't you?"
He swallowed, hard. "More than I've ever meant anything in my life. We're going to start over, Nance. You, me, and Brian. I'm going to get help. I'm going to take control of my life." He pressed his forehead to hers, and she could feel the emotion shaking him. "I'm getting the hell out of politics," he said fervently. "Let my father run for office if he wants to. I don't give a damn. I want to go back to practicing law. And I want to be a husband and a father. If you'll still have me." He paused, his eyes damp as he awaited her answer.
It came without hesitation, and her tears drenched his shirt. "If I'll still have you?" she choked out. "Yes, I'll still have you. That's all I ever wanted—to build a life with you and Brian."
"Then let's go do that." He headed for the door. "We'll start by finding our son."
* * *
30
5:15 P.M.
Leaf Brook Memorial
The process had been set in motion.
Patricia Avalon had answered her page immediately and returned Julia's—rather, Meredith Talbot's—phone call. Using her mother's name was a precaution Julia had taken ta protect the fact that she was supposed to be in a coma. Not to mention that Special Agent Avalon was better acquainted with Meredith than she was with Julia and would, therefore, be more apt to respond quickly.
She listened to what Julia had to say, asked a few terse questions, then told her to stay put and wait for her call.
She took care of the rest.
The NCAVC in Quantico, Virginia, was contacted, as was the FBI's New York field office. Together, they coordinated an immediate response, and a team was mobilized. Special agents were assigned to work with the Leaf Brook police, including Patricia Avalon, who would be the Stratfords' primary contact. Julia's hospital room would be their meeting point.
The plan was for Patricia to masquerade as Julia's older sister. It would be natural for her to be allowed in to visit her comatose sibling, where she would also lend support to their mother. It would be easy enough to pull off. Walker wouldn't be concentrating on Julia now. Thanks to Connor's news leak, he'd have dismissed her as a threat. So would his accomplices.
As for the local authorities, by the time the FBI field office contacted Martin Hart, Stephen already had spoken with him, and the police chief was ready to throw his weight and the weight of the entire department behind the investigation.
So the connections were made on all sides, Patricia Avalon was on her way to the hospital, and FBI agents were out looking for Brian.
It was five-twenty when the phone in Julia's hospital room rang.
Connor and Julia exchanged a glance and a prayer.
Then Connor grabbed the phone. "Yes?"
"It's me," Stephen said simply. "I've got Nancy with me. She's all right."
'Thank God." Connor released his breath, giving a thumbs-up to Julia, who mouthed her own thanks to the heavens.
"Listen, Connor. Nancy says she's okay. But I'd rather hear it from a medical professional. Does Meredith Tal-bot think I should take her to the hospital? She's been tied up for two days, and she was drugged."
Connor could hear Nancy in the background saying, "I'm fine, Stephen." But he turned toward the door anyway, beckoned Meredith Talbot in.
She popped into the room, focusing intently on his explanation. Then she took the phone.
After asking a few questions and listening to the responses, she assured Stephen that Nancy was probably just dehydrated and woozy from the drugs she'd been given. She advised him to give her lots of water and make her rest during the ride home.
"Bring her straight here," Meredith concluded. "It'll be late at night by the time you arrive, so the hospital corridor will be relatively quiet. Dr. Tillerman will check Nancy out. That'll put your mind at ease. In the meantime, you both can stay close to the action. This room's been designated as the central meeting place for the authorities. Patricia's on her way here now. In fact..." She looked up and gestured at a trim woman with short, dark hair who was exchanging a quick word with Dr. Tiller-man. "She just arrived."
"Does she have any news?" Stephen demanded.
"The FBI agent is there?" Nancy interceded. "I want to talk to her."
Meredith heard and seconded the request. "She'll want to talk to you, too. I'll put her on." She held out the phone as Patricia strode briskly across the room. "It's both parents," she informed the special agent. "Stephen just rescued his wife from the ski lodge in Stowe. She's unharmed."
Nodding, Patricia Avalon put the receiver to her ear. "Mayor Stratford? I understand your wife is with you. I'd like to speak with you both."
"I'll snap the handset into the cradle," Stephen replied. He did that. "Can you hear us?"
"Clear as a bell. You're uninjured, Mrs. Stratford?"
"I'm fine. All I care about is Brian. Have you found anything yet?"
Patricia unbuttoned her coat, tossed it onto a chair. "No, but it's been less than an hour. We will."
Nancy's emotional reserves were shot, and with them h
er customary composure. She let out a choked sob. "He's in second grade. He's just a little boy—our little boy. Please, you've got to find him."
"Our agents are already on it, Mrs. Stratford." Compassion underscored Agent Avalon's crisp, professional tone. "And Police Chief Hart is cooperating fully. Trust us to do our job. We'll bring Brian home."
"What's your plan?" Stephen asked. "How can we help?"
"You can help by answering a few questions. Mrs. Stratford, can you describe anything about the person who abducted your son?"
"I can do better than that. I can give you his name. It was Leaf Brook's city manager, Greg Matthews."
Patricia's brows rose. "He did nothing to disguise himself?"
"He wore a ski mask. But it had slits for eyeholes. I recognized his eyes. He and Stephen have worked together for a term and a half, the entire time Stephen's been mayor. It was definitely Greg."
"I see. Well, two plainclothes detectives have already checked out Greg Matthews's home and his workplace. They've done the same for Philip Walker. As expected, neither man is anywhere to be found. Then again, we know where Walker will be tomorrow at noon."
A small gasp escaped Nancy. "Tell me you don't plan to wait until then to find Brian. Please say you don't intend to let my son's rescue hinge on your staking out die airport, hoping that when you grab Walker, he'll tell you..."
"Definitely not," Patricia interrupted. "Finding Brian is our number one priority. Waiting was never an option. The process is already ongoing."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Stephen pressed. "You never did answer me when I asked what your strategy was."
"There was a reason I didn't get into procedural details. Two reasons, actually. Both are for Brian's protection. First, this is a nonsecure telephone connection. It would be foolish to discuss confidential details on it. Second, to be frank, the less tactical information you're privy to, the better. It's quite possible that Walker will contact you again. You're under enough duress. You don't need to worry about letting something slip. Just be assured that we're taking every precaution. We know what we're doing; that's why you made the right decision to come to us, regardless of Walker's threats. You have my word that we won't make any major moves without consulting you or conceal any major discoveries."