In the end, the conversation had gone around and around in exhausting circles, and the night had been endless agony.
No one had slept. Everyone had stared at the phone and the door, praying for news that never came.
It was coming up on nine o'clock.
The door opened, and Patricia walked in. Everyone's head snapped around.
"Not yet" she said simply. "But soon."
"How soon?" Stephen snapped, jumping to his feet. "My son's been stuffed Lord knows where since Friday. The son of a bitch who took him will be boarding a plane in three hours. And we're just sitting here, doing nothing. God only knows if he's okay, if he's eaten, if he's even . . ." He heard Nancy's choked sob, and he broke off, tugging her against him and pressing her head to his chest. "I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her hair. "I'm sorry" he repeated, meeting Patricia's gaze. "I realize you're working as fast as you can. I guess I'm just losing it."
"With good reason. He's your son." Patricia walked over to them, a purposeful look in her eyes. '"When I said soon, I meant soon."
Nancy twisted around. "You have a clue?" "Let's just say we've had a lot of territory to cover. But it looks as if we're closing in on our answer. I expect to hear something any time now. So hang on a little longer."
"Can't you tell us... ?"
Nancy's question was interrupted by the ringing of Stephen's cell phone. He and Nancy both jumped.
"Answer it," Patricia directed Stephen. "Remember that it's Walker you're supposed to be talking to. And Nancy, not a word. We want Matthews to think you're still bound and gagged in Stowe. Let your husband do the talking."
She nodded, her face sheet-white. Stephen pressed the talk button. "Yes?" "All set for our exchange?" the scrambled voice inquired.
"The money will be ready by eleven," Stephen replied. "I'll drive it straight to the airport."
"Excellent Now, remember, put it in Brian's sports bag."
"Right. And leave it in the alcove closest to.. ."
"No." The voice cut him off. "Drive your car into the
parking lot closest to Hangar E. Leave the car, unlocked,
right near the hangar—with, the sports bag in it At
eleven-thirty sharp, take a walk into the main terminal.
Grab a cup of coffee in the departure lounge, and listen for a page. You'U hear your name called at twelve-fifteen. At that point, we'll both have what we want"
"What does that mean?" Stephen gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Where will Brian be?"
"That's what the page you'll be receiving is about. Answer it promptly. A skycap will bring you an envelope with written directions inside. They'll tell you where you can find your son."
"Twelve-fifteen? You'll already be airborne."
"That's the idea."
"I'm supposed to trust you?"
"You have no choice."
Stephen sucked in his breath. "How do I know Brian's safe? Let me talk to him."
"Ah, I'm glad you brought that up. Here's a message from your son." A few rumbling sounds at the other end of the phone.
Then Brian's voice.
"Dad? Please do what the man says. I'm scared. I wanna come home." A shuddering breath, as he tried not to cry. "I'm really scared, Dad. Please bring me home."
Another series of muffled sounds, and Brian's voice was gone.
Stephen squeezed his eyes shut, tears burning behind them.
"Satisfied?" the scrambled voice asked.
Emotion too vast to contain welled up inside Stephen. "You sick, fucking bastard," he blasted, his entire body vibrating with fear and rage. "If you've hurt my son, you're a dead man. I don't care where you go or how far you run. I'll hunt you down. And I'll kill you. Count on it."
The magnitude of his fury must have conveyed itself, because there was a brief pause at the other end.
"No need for violence, Mr. Mayor," the scrambled voice assured him. "You do your part I'll do mine. Now, get busy. You've got two hours and fifteen minutes— exactly."
Dial tone.
As if in a trance, Stephen pressed the end button, staring at the phone and mumbling, "He turned off the scrambler long enough for me to hear clearly. It was Brian's voice."
"Stephen?" Nancy interrupted, grabbing his arm. "You heard Brian? How did he sound? Was he okay? What did he say?"
The panic in Nancy's tone snapped Stephen out of his paralyzed state. He focused on his wife, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. "Brian's okay. All I heard was a tape of his voice. And, yeah, he sounds scared, but he didn't sound hurt or weak. I really believe he's all right. I just want to choke the shit out of Matthews for putting us through this."
"Stephen," Patricia urged quietly, "tell us what was said."
He drew a steadying breath and relayed the entire conversation. When he got to the actual words Brian had used in his plea, he tried his best to soften the emotional blow.
It didn't work. Nancy was Brian's mother. She understood, and the pain of knowing her son needed her and she couldn't be there for him was too much to bear.
Covering her face with her hands, she began to weep.
Across the room, Julia averted her head, choking back her own sobs. This was not the time to fall apart. She had to be strong for Brian's family.
"So he's switched the drop site," Patricia commented. She didn't look surprised. "Another insurance step on his part." She would have said more, but her secure cell phone rang just then. She excused herself, walking off to converse in private.
Connor blew out his breath and made a quick check of the time. "I'll head off soon, just in case the money's ready ahead of time. My contacts were really pushing to make that happen." He went over to Julia, gently bringing her face around. "Hey," he said softly, tipping up her chin. "Are you okay?"
Moisture glistened on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. If I'd had any idea Greg was capable of this..."
"You didn't. None of us did." His fingertips wiped away the tracks of her tears. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. You were there for Brian when he was hurting. You risked your life to save his and almost died in the process. Not to mention that you've been unbelievably strong through this whole nightmare. Even when I wasn't. My family's lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you." He lowered his head, brushed her lips with his. "Thank you for showing me what's important."
Julia didn't have the opportunity to reply.
Rom across the room, Patricia abruptly snapped off her cell phone and cut across to the door in a few long strides.
Nancy shot up. "What is it?"
"Stay put. I'll be right back." The special agent left, me door swinging shut behind her.
Silence ensued. The room's four remaining occupants looked at one another.
"What was that about?" Stephen demanded.
"I don't know." Connor's gaze narrowed. "But it was obviously important."
"She must have learned something." Nancy ran a quavering hand through her hair. "But what? Oh, God, Stephen, what if Brian's... what if something's happened."
"Don't think that way," her husband commanded, wrapping a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Just don't."
Julia was staring through the small square window in the hospital-room door, intently studying her mother, watching her demeanor and her actions. Meredith had risen to her feet, her hands clasped, and there was an ardent, expectant look on her face.
"Whatever's happened, it isn't bad," Julia determined quietly. "In fact, I'm praying it's good."
As she spoke, her mother's lips curved into a smile, and she nodded, saying something to Patricia as she returned, then squatting down until she was no longer visible through the window.
Patricia poked her head into the room.
"Do you have an update for us?" Nancy asked pleadingly.
Genuine pleasure sparkled in Patricia's eyes. "I have something better for you. I have a visitor" She yanked the door open the rest of the way, leaning back against it so that Meredith could
push a wheelchair into the room—a wheelchair containing whomever Meredith had been squatting to talk to a moment ago.
Their visitor was a short, huddled figure totally concealed by a blanket.
But only long enough for Patricia to shut the door and give Meredith the okay nod.
With a watery smile, Meredith reached for the blanket, tugged it away. "Okay, champ," she urged. "Go for it"
Brian's cherished face appeared—tired and tear-streaked but eager as a puppy's. He squirmed out of the blanket, clambering to his feet and peering around all at once.
"Oh, God," Nancy whispered. "Brian." She stretched out her arms. "Brian!"
He ran to her, a harsh sob escaping him as his mother grabbed him and scooped him up into a tight hug. "Mom," he choked out, hugging her fiercely.
"Oh, baby, are you all right? Are you hurt? Are you ..." Nancy was crying too hard to speak.
"I'm okay, Mom." With that rare, amazing grown-up sensitivity Brian had, he consoled his mother between sniffles. "Honest, I'm okay."
He felt another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, and he turned, his whole face lighting up when he saw his father. "Dad!" He flung himself against his father.
Stephen gripped him securely, pressing his lips into Brian's disheveled hair. He was openly weeping, his shoulders shaking as he held his son. "Hey, you," he managed. "I missed you like crazy."
"I missed you, too." Brian's voice was muffled against his father's shirt. "I was really scared."
"So was I," Stephen admitted. "But it's over now. You're here with us, and you're safe."
"Mom, too?" Brian shot an anxious glance at his mother. "He made her drink some stuff that put her to sleep."
"I'm fine, baby," Nancy assured him, rubbing his back. "Dad drove up and found me. And now that you're home, I'm better than fine." She smiled through her tears. "I'm a lucky woman. I've got two heroes—you and Dad."
That tribute impressed Brian enough to divert his lingering apprehension. "A hero." He considered the idea, his sniffles subsiding. "That sounds pretty cool"
"It is," Stephen confirmed. "I'm so proud of you. You watched out for Mom, and you came through this like a trouper. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so brave."
"Me, either," Nancy agreed. She smoothed Brian's hair off his face, assessing him with a mother's practiced eye. "You must be starving."
"Yeah." An emphatic nod as the priorities and the rapid-recovery ability of a seven-and-a-half-year-old surged to the forefront. "Can I have a cheeseburger and fries?'
At the moment, Nancy would have bought out McDonald's, she was so relieved. But she forced her more practical, maternal instincts to prevail. "Sweetie, I don't think the first thing you eat after three days should be..."
"I ate yesterday and the day before," Brian protested. "Just not today."
Nancy and Stephen exchanged puzzled looks.
"Today's Monday, Bri," Stephen explained. "You were taken on Friday."
"I know. I counted the nights. They were dark and creepy, and I hated them. Anyway, the mornings were when I ate. Mr. Matthews brought me cereal and Gatorade."
"He did?" Stephen asked in surprise.
"Uh-huh. And after that, he untied me so I could go into the woods and... well, you know."
His father's lips twitched. "Yeah, we know."
"Brian?" Patricia Avalon interrupted the reunion. "Did you say Mr. Matthews?"
"Yeah. That's the guy's name. He works for Dad."
She blinked, glancing at Stephen. "We never referred to the kidnapper by name," she explained. A quizzical look at Brian. "Did Mr. Matthews not wear a disguise? Is that how you knew who he was?"
"Nope," Brian refuted. "He wore one of those robber's ski masks. He never took it off."
"Then how did you ..."
"His voice," Brian explained patiently. "I'm real good at recognizing them. Just ask Dad. When I answer the phone, I always know who it is before they tell me. Anyway, I've heard Mr. Matthews's voice lots of times, whenever I visit Dad's office."
"I see." For the first time, Patricia looked taken aback. "Your parents are right. You're quite a guy."
"Thanks." Brian frowned. "Mr. Matthews got pretty mean and scary sometimes. I think it's because he wanted that money really bad. But he didn't hurt me, except for how tight the ropes were. I guess he figured Dad would punch him out if he did." Brian shot his father an interested look. "Did you give him the money? It must have been a lot."
Stephen grinned. "It was. And no, he doesn't have it yet Uncle Connor was on his way to get it when you wheeled in. Speaking of which . . ." Stephen released Brian, stepping aside so his son could see the room's other occupants. "I think you have a few more fans to greet."
"Uncle Connor! Miss Talbot!" Brian zoomed over and gave his uncle a high five.
Connor squatted down, his eyes suspiciously damp. "Welcome home, ace," he murmured, wrapping Brian in a giant bear hug. "The house has been much too quiet without you."
"Are you still staying there?"
"You bet I am. In fact, I think we should have a big welcome-home party tonight. Pizza. My treat. I'll bring in as many pies as you want."
"Can Miss Talbot come, too?" Brian asked the same question he'd asked at a memorable Saturday baseball game, sixteen days and an eternity ago.
"Yeah, ace," Connor said fervently. "She sure can."
Brian took a step toward Julia, then stopped, his frown returning. "Miss Talbot, why are you still crying? And why do you have that big Band-Aid on your head? And all those bandages on your arm and your hand? Did you get hurt, too?"
She nodded, stepping off the bed—ignoring whatever weakness and dizziness ensued—and, with her good left arm, tugged Brian toward her, giving him a resounding kiss on the cheek. "I had an accident. But I'm better. And I'm crying because I'm very, very glad to see you."
"I'm glad to see you, too." He scrunched up his face in a hopeful look. "Can you come over for pizza? Or do you have spelling tests to mark again?"
"No." She swallowed bard. "No spelling tests this time. And as long as Dr. Tillerman says it's all right, I'd love to come over for pizza."
"Don't be too sure of that," Nancy warned, laughing shakily through her tears. "You have no idea how much gunk Brian and Connor like on their pizza. When they say 'everything on it,' they mean it. It takes a giant crane to lift each slice "
"Ugh." Julia shuddered. "That's going to take some getting used to."
"You're not gonna change your mind and not come?" Brian asked anxiously.
"No way." Julia squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't miss this celebration for anything."
"Plus, Miss Talbot's going to be eating a lot of pizza with us from now on," Connor added. A corner of his mouth lifted, and he winked at Julia. "But I'll compromise. How about a couple of plain pies, or maybe a few that you and Nancy pick out, topped with your ingredients of choice?"
Julia smiled. "Sounds good."
"You're going to be coming over a lot more?" Brian interrupted excitedly. He hadn't missed his uncle's comment. "Is that 'cause of me, or 'cause of Uncle Connor?"
"Both."
"Even after you're not my teacher anymore?"
"Even then."
"Cool." Brian grinned. "That's the kind of getting used to I like."
"In that case," Connor said, "I have one more thing for you to get used to. I think you'll like this one, too, even though it's going to take some practice."
'"Practice? You mean, like baseball?"
"Yeah, like baseball. Maybe better."
"Better than baseball?" Brian looked dubious.
'To me it is. I think it will be to you, too." Connor inclined his head, meeting Brian's curious gaze. "You're going to have to get used to calling Miss Talbot by a different name. Think you can manage?"
"What name?' Brian demanded.
Connor pursed his lips, as if he were carefully evaluating the options. "I don't know—how does Aunt Julia sound to you?"
It took about t
wenty seconds to sink in.
Then Brian let out a whoop. "You're getting married?"
"Yup."
"Wow!" Exploding with excitement, Brian turned to his parents. "Did you know?"
"We had a pretty good idea," Stephen said, grinning.
"And we're thrilled about it," Nancy added.
"Me, too." Brian was beaming ear to ear. "Now we have another thing to celebrate. Maybe we should get ice cream to go with the pizza."
"Good idea." Stephen's gaze drifted over his son— from his exuberant expression to his torn, dirty clothes— and his eyes misted over. "I feel like I have a lot to celebrate," he murmured, giving Nancy a hard hug. "I'm a very lucky man."
He turned to Patricia. "Thank you," he said fervently. "There's not much more I can say."
"You're very welcome."
"Yeah, the FBI was super-cool," Brian announced. "They broke open the door of the trailer I was in. I'm glad I spit out that gag, so I could yell when I heard them. I knew it was cops 'cause I heard those radio things they talk through. And I heard my name. So I yelled. And Police Chief Hart was there, too. He gave me a chocolate chip cookie for later... uh-oh." Brian dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of brown crumbs. "I guess I squished it."
"I guess so." Stephen ruffled his hair. "Trailer?" he asked Patricia, finally requesting the details he'd put off asking for until he was sure Brian was okay enough to handle it. "Greg hid Brian in a trailer?"
"A construction trailer located on a deserted Walker Development site," she clarified. "Matthews planned this very carefully. He arranged all the evidence so it pointed to Walker being behind Brian's kidnapping." Patricia counted off on her fingers. "Walker's plane and pilot prepped for a. getaway. Walker's trailer where Brian was being held. Walker's thug who broke into Connor's car, presumably to steal it—which, in turn, made Julia's hit-and-run look like an unrelated accident It was a very clever plan. Matthews devised it so he'd not only escape scott-free, but he'd do it with everyone believing he was just an accomplice, with Walker masterminding the major crimes."