“We thought he was safe, Lynda. Who would have thought he’d leave here, knowing that Bill Brandon is still out there?”
“That’s no excuse!”
Sighing, Jake dialed the number for Nick’s house, but there was no answer, so he quickly dialed the hospital and connected with Beth’s room.
“Hello?”
“Beth, thank goodness you’re still there. I thought you may have checked out by now.”
“No, I’m still waiting for the doctor.”
“Beth, Jimmy’s missing.”
“What?”
“He’s run away. He’s gone.”
“Weren’t you watching him?”
“We thought he was playing on the computer. We were just in the next room. We’re thinking maybe he went there to see you, or maybe even his mother.”
Beth paused for a moment, thinking. “All right, I’ll be on the lookout for him. But aren’t you going to call the police?”
“We put a call in to Larry and Tony, but we’re reluctant to report this to anyone else.”
“Do it anyway!” she said. “Bill Brandon is out there, Jake. If he gets his hands on Jimmy, we’ll never see him alive again!”
“But Brandon may have a police scanner. If he hears about the disappearance, he may find Jimmy before we do.”
“Call anyway. Please, Jake. Maybe the police can find him.”
In the hospital room, Beth hung up the phone and turned back to Nick. “He’s gone.”
“Where did he go?”
“They think he may be coming here. Maybe to see me, or you—maybe even Tracy.”
“No way,” Nick said. “Not after his reaction today. He wouldn’t come to see Tracy.”
“But, Nick,” Beth said, “what if he thought it over and decided he does want to see her after all?”
Nick shrugged. “Well, maybe we’d better go warn her,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe.”
They told the nurse where they’d be in case the doctor came, then headed to the elevator. They got off on the floor above Beth’s and walked quickly to Tracy’s room. Tracy’s eyes were swollen and red, and she looked as dismal as she’d looked when Beth had left her earlier.
“Tracy?”
She looked up, but her expression was lifeless.
“Tracy, we need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About Jimmy.”
She closed her eyes. “There’s nothing you can say to me about Jimmy.”
“Yes, there is. He’s disappeared.”
“What?” Her eyes came open fully, and she sat partially up.
“Tracy, I want you to listen to me, and I want you to listen carefully,” Nick said. “Jimmy’s been in trouble. The reason I came looking for you is that he and Lisa were in a children’s home and Jimmy was being used in a crime ring. We’re about to have the operator of the home arrested, but meanwhile, Jimmy’s been hiding with us.”
“And you let him run away?” Tracy asked. “How could you do that?”
“He’s smart,” Nick said. “He duped the people who were watching him by setting up a distraction, and he slipped out of the house without anyone realizing it.”
“Well, is anyone looking for him?”
“Yes. But Tracy, we wanted to tell you, in case he comes here.”
“Here? Why would he come here?” Tears spilled over her lashes, and she smeared them across her face. “I can’t think of a reason in the world he would come to me.”
“You’re his mother.”
“I’m not his mother!” she shouted. “He doesn’t have a mother!”
Beth moved closer to the bed. “Tracy, you are his mother, whether you like it or not. Whether he likes it or not.”
Tracy fell back on her pillows. “What if something happens to him?”
“We’ll find him,” Beth said. “They’ll find him. He couldn’t have gotten far on foot.”
Tracy looked skeptical. “Like you said, he’s a smart kid. He was smart when he was seven years old. He can go anywhere he wants to go.”
“Not if people are looking for him,” Beth said. “But Tracy, if he comes here, you have to tell us, okay? You have to call this number.” She wrote down Larry and Tony’s number at the station and set it on the bed table. “Do you hear me? You have to call.”
“What if he doesn’t want me to?”
“Do it anyway. He’s in danger. The man who runs the home isn’t in jail yet. If he finds Jimmy before we do, he may kill him.”
“Oh, terrific,” Tracy said. “So my son went from a bad situation with me to a worse one with some guy who could kill him, is that what you’re saying?”
Nick leaned over her bed and touched Tracy’s hand. “Tracy, look at me.”
Tracy looked up at him with wet eyes that looked too big for her face.
“Tracy, there’s a purpose in all this, whether you believe it or not.”
“I don’t believe it,” Tracy said.
Beth felt her cheeks growing hot, and she tightened her lips.
“Well, you’d better believe it, because maybe that purpose is to save and protect your son.”
Tracy shook her head as if to rid it of the cobwebs. “What about Lisa? Is she in danger, too?”
“We’re trying to get her out of the home,” Nick said, “but we have to wait until the guy’s arrested.”
She closed her eyes, taking in the horror of it all. “What have I done to my kids?” she whispered.
More tears ran down the sides of her face, and Beth sat there staring at her for a long moment, feeling the pain that she didn’t want to feel, because she didn’t want to empathize with this woman who had abandoned her children. She wanted to hate her like she hated her own mother, but something about Tracy’s pain touched her, and she leaned over the bed and touched the woman’s hand.
“Tracy, it’s not too late.”
“What isn’t?”
“It’s not too late to become somebody to your kids. It’s never too late until you’re dead.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
“Take it from a kid who’s been there.”
Tracy brought both forearms up to cover her face. “I don’t want to do this!” she cried. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to see my kids. I don’t want to face them, and they sure don’t want to face me!”
“If Jimmy comes, we’ll help you,” Beth said.
“And what if he doesn’t?” Tracy cried. “What if he gets into more trouble? What if someone grabs him? What if—”
“Shhh,” Nick cut in, trying to calm her. “Jimmy’s a tough kid.
He’ll be all right.”
“What if he isn’t?” she screamed.
The silence in the wake of her question lay heavy over the room. “He will,” Nick said finally. “Take my word for it. We’ll find him within the hour.”
“What if he went back to that orphanage?” she demanded.
“He would never go back there,” Beth said. “He knows how dangerous that would be.”
Tracy’s sobs were deep, wrenching, soul-rending. “Are you sure I didn’t die?”
Nick’s own eyes were filling with tears. “What do you mean, Tracy?”
“When you found me lying there on that mattress, are you sure I wasn’t already dead?”
“I’m sure,” he said, glancing uneasily at Beth. “You’re very much alive. Why would you ask a thing like that?”
“Because,” Tracy choked out, “this feels like some kind of hell.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
It was getting darker. Jimmy knew that he couldn’t hitchhike, since police were probably already out looking for him. For all he knew, his face could be on the screen of every television in St. Clair by now.
So he ran, as fast and as hard as he could, cutting I through yards and plowing through woods, trying to get to Beth’s house. His body was covered with sweat, and his shirt stuck to him, but he was glad that he had these running shoes. Bill hadn’t ski
mped on shoes for the kids who “worked” for him. They had to be black, and they had to be quiet—for quick getaways.
His navigational skills were pretty good, just as his computer skills were, and he tried to remember where Bill had taken him the night he’d dropped him off at Beth’s house. He had turned here, and passed that railroad crossing, then turned again . . .
By the time Jimmy found the long road that connected to Beth’s dirt road, two hours had passed since he’d left Lynda’s, and it was growing dark. He cut through the woods and hit the dirt road leading up to her house. He slowed to a walk as he headed up the dirt road, trying to catch his breath.
Because there were no streetlights on Beth’s little dirt road, Jimmy was on the driveway before he saw that the house wasn’t there anymore.
He squinted through the darkness at the gutted structure where he had hidden for so long, where he’d met the first adult who’d really cared about him in a long time, where he’d gotten to know the little puppy. He had known about the explosion, of course, but he had imagined it like one of those cartoon explosions, where one corner of a room gets soot on the walls, but nothing else is hurt. The condition of the house now stunned him, and he leaned back against a tree and slid down to the ground, almost dizzy with the reality of how close Beth had come to death.
And with that chilling thought came another: Bill had probably expected Jimmy to be at Beth’s house, too. Had the bomb been as much for him as for Beth?
He felt that familiar pain in his stomach at the thought that his sister could have been killed delivering the bomb or setting the newspaper building on fire. He grew nauseous at the thought of her beaten up and awaiting rescue. He had to hurry.
But first he needed the gun.
There was nothing left of her living room. If the gun had been there, it was ruined now. Then again, she might have taken it with her in the car when she’d tried to go to St. Petersburg the day of the explosion, knowing that Bill was after her.
But where was the car?
He tried to think. It wasn’t at Lynda’s. It could be at Nick’s. Or someone could have taken it to the hospital for her . . .
Yes. The hospital. It wasn’t far from here. It shouldn’t take long to get there.
He jogged back to the main road again, then cut through the trees skirting the street, hidden by the trees as well as the darkness.
Forty-five minutes later, drenched with sweat and panting, he reached the hospital. He went from one row to another, ducking between cars, until he spotted Beth’s car. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the gun being there as he approached it, as if wishing could make it so. Please be there . . . please be there . . .
The car was locked.
He looked toward the front doors of the hospital. Would anyone recognize him if he went in? He had no choice. Sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, the same black ones he’d been wearing since Beth had found him, he ambled up to the doors and slipped into the lobby. There was a coat rack in the corner of the room, so he checked to see if anyone was looking, then went over and grabbed a coat hanger. He shoved it into the front of his jeans, then pulled his T-shirt out to hang over it.
Quickly, he headed back out to Beth’s car. Just as Bill had taught him, he stretched the coat hanger into the shape he needed, then maneuvered it between the rubber and the top of the window. In seconds, he had hooked the hanger onto the lock and popped it open.
When he opened the door, the light came on, making him feel vulnerable and exposed. He closed the door quickly, encasing himself in darkness.
He felt around on the seat. No gun. He bent and felt under it. Nothing.
Then he saw the glove compartment, and he punched the button and slowly pulled it open.
The gun lay there on its side, filling him with bittersweet relief.
His hands trembled as he took it. Quickly, he pulled his tee shirt up again. He stuck the barrel into his pants, as he’d seen it done on television, then tucked his shirt back over it.
He was ready. He could face a standoff with Bill Brandon now. He could rescue his sister, and maybe some of the others. He was ready to do whatever he had to do. And if he had to go to jail—whether for burglary or for murder—to see Lisa freed from Bill’s bondage, then it would be worth it.
He got back out of the car and started walking in the direction of SCCH. His courage rose with every step, until finally he was running again. He knew the way to the home from here. And those who were looking for him would never even think to look there.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The party that Bill Brandon had insisted on having at the home was a first. He had never had one before—though occasionally local churches had given them Christmas parties—but this afternoon, he’d told the children that he was throwing a birthday party to celebrate all of the birthdays that occurred throughout the year. Everyone would be the guest of honor. He had let Lisa out of the back room for the occasion. Though Stella had dressed her up in her newest dress, she was pale and drawn. Weak from the fear of further punishment, she sat in a corner as the festivities unfolded around her.
This was some kind of trick, she thought wearily. He had called the television stations, and cameras went around the room, filming the happy faces of the children as they ate cake or tore into their presents—rag dolls for the girls and plastic race cars for the boys. It was as if he was trying to make the world think that they always did this, that he cared about the children, that he wanted them to be happy. She wondered what the reporters and cameramen would think if they knew where she’d been for the last day and a half, or if they could see the injuries under Brad’s clothes. He, too, sat very still against the wall, pale and quiet, as if the effort of speaking might cause too much pain.
She got up, holding her rag doll by one arm, and went to the cluster of boys talking near Brad. She wasn’t welcome among them, she knew, especially since Jimmy wasn’t here anymore, but she wanted to hear what they were saying.
“I heard Stella say he was expecting someone.”
“Someone like who?”
“Somebody from HRS, or cops, maybe. Probably what he warned us of the other day, after Jimmy got busted.”
The faces in the circle changed, and Lisa couldn’t hold her silence anymore. “Are they gonna arrest us? Did we get caught?”
“Shhhh,” Brad ordered. “Are you crazy? Somebody could hear you.” “I told you she was too little to keep a secret.”
“I am not too little,” she returned. “I have kept the secret. But I don’t want to go to jail.”
“That’s where Jimmy is,” Kevin said.
“He is not! They don’t have computers in jail!”
“Lisa, shut up!” Brad warned.
“Well, they don’t!”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Kevin asked.
“Because Jimmy e-mailed me—”
Brad grabbed her wrist and jerked her to shut her up, when the other boys’ eyes widened to the size of quarters. “You heard from him?”
“I’m not saying nothing,” Brad said. “And neither is she. Are you, Lisa?” She didn’t answer. “I can just tell you that Jimmy’s not in jail.”
“Well, what if he snitched on us? What if that’s why the cops are coming?”
“It might be why,” Brad said, looking back over the festive children and the cameras still going. “But I don’t think so.”
The door opened, and Bill came in, all smiles and laughter. He tried to act as if he genuinely loved all of the children in the home, bending over them and hugging them, wishing them happy birthday for the sake of the cameras.
“Why would Bill want cameras here if the cops are coming?”
“Maybe to show the world that he’s really a nice guy, and that we’re all happy kids who love it here, so that whatever Jimmy told them won’t seem true,” Keith said. “I wonder if he told them about my leg.”
“He should have,” Lisa whispered.
Brad h
ugged himself around the ribs that were probably broken. “I don’t really care what he told them. I don’t even care what happens to me. I just want them to get Bill. And I hope he tries to escape and they shoot him, just bad enough for him to hurt and see what it feels like. Then I hope he dies.”
The other children only gazed at him, caught up in the terrors they wished on their keeper.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Weird,” Larry told Tony via cell phone. Tony had followed the judge home and was now watching the house.Larry had set up his equipment on the second floor of the hardware store across the street, a vantage point from which he could see most of the buildings on the campus of SCCH. “Brandon just made it back to the home, and it looks like there’s a party going on here. Television vans, music . . . I can see into the game room through a window, and I see balloons and streamers. Not exactly what I would have expected from a man who’s desperate and knows we’re coming after him.”
“Sure it is. It’s brilliant PR,” Tony said. “He’s trying to make the press think he’s a wonderful guy. Get them all psyched up, so that when they get the real story, they won’t believe it. Either that, or he can use it in court. ‘Well, to be perfectly honest, Judge, I was just minding my own business giving a party for my beloved children, when the gestapo cops broke the doors down and arrested me in front of all of them. I only hope they’re not traumatized for life.’”
“He knows we can’t touch him tonight. Not until Judge Wyatt gives us the warrant, and you and I both know he won’t do it.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. What if we went to the judge and told him what we know?”
“Like blackmail, Tony?”
“More like cutting a deal. We tell him that we saw him talking to Brandon, then he gives us that warrant, hoping we’ll forget what we saw.”
“No way,” Larry said. “He’s going down with Brandon. No deals.”
Tony got quiet for a moment, thinking. “Then call the captain at home,” he said. “Tell him about Wyatt’s meeting with Brandon. Then try to get him to go to the prosecutor for two warrants tonight—for both of them.”
“All right,” Larry said. “But I don’t want to leave for a while yet. I want to see how this party pans out. It could get interesting.”