Lethal Ransom. Laurie Alice Eakes
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something, but in trying to recall anything she had said or done that would anger criminals to such an extent, her head spun like a lazy Susan full of sand rather than spices.
The smallness of the car struck her then, how the seat pressed against her back, the dashboard against her legs and the door against her side. The car was too small for two taller-than-average adults, especially when one of them was a broad-shouldered male. He took up too much of the space, too much of the oxygen. She could not breathe.
“Air.” She gasped like someone who had been under water too long. “I need air.”
Her hand dropped to the door handle. She flipped it open and scrambled from the car. Her sore feet inside the slipper socks the hospital provided hit the pavement too hard. The air smelled of exhaust from the nearby road, and wet concrete. But a stiff breeze blew the clouds from the sky and flowed around her like a warm, gentle touch, and her lungs expanded. She straightened, inhaled, and ran away from the confines of the car to—what?
Something. She needed to get to something. Her condo so she could be alone and think and figure out why anyone wanted to kidnap her. To her office where she could look at her case files and figure out who might want to harm her. Back to the US marshal’s office to find out how she could trade herself for her mother’s freedom. She ran across the nearly empty parking lot and the lure of the nearby “L” station for a train she couldn’t ride because she didn’t have her purse for her transit pass nor her phone to access electronic tickets on the commuter train.
She didn’t even have her office or condo keys. She didn’t have her handbag back yet.
She realized at that moment she was crying. She stumbled to a halt beside a light pole. It was something to lean against, but it was cold and indifferent to how her insides felt, shredded.
Footfalls sounded behind her. She supposed she should have flinched or taken off running again. After all, criminals wanted her and she had just stupidly run across a deserted parking lot at night. But she didn’t move. She knew who was racing after her, the deputy marshal whose broad shoulder would be so much nicer to lean on than the light pole, if he weren’t a man in uniform, or a suit, or any other symbol of a man one couldn’t count on to be around when needed.
He was there at that moment, though.
“I’m all right,” she said to ward him off. “I just needed air.”
“I understand. My car’s a little small. But I don’t think this is the best place to get your supply of oxygen.”
So soothing. So reasonable.
She wanted to shout, I let my mother get kidnapped instead of me. Don’t be so nice to me.
“Let’s get you someplace comfortable.”
“I want to go home.”
He hesitated a moment before saying what she knew he would. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go home right now.”
“Is it a crime scene?”
“Not at all, but it could be watched to see if you show up.”
Of course it could.
She wrapped her arms around herself, annoyed she hadn’t thought of that, shivering from the prospect that someone could remove her from her home without guaranteeing that her mother would go free.
“Then where will I go?” she asked. “You won’t lock me up somewhere will you?”
“We do have houses—”
“No.” She faced him, hands up as though she could push him away. “I can’t be locked up somewhere. I have to do something. I have to get my mom back.”
“We will, but we need your help to know why someone wants to abduct you.”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. In spite of that SUV following me from work, I thought it was my mother who was the target. She seemed odd in the car. I thought she knew something. I thought—I’ve told you what I thought.”
Nick nodded. His head was bowed over his phone, and he was texting, thumbs flying over the screen. The tone of incoming texts rang in continuous staccato bursts.
Kristen glared at him more because she wanted her phone, her line to communicating with her friends, than because he wasn’t giving her any attention. She didn’t need his attention, especially if what he was doing meant her mother’s safe return. She hoped those texts had nothing to do with locking her away somewhere for her own good. What was good for her might not be good for her mother.
Her feet hurting, she leaned against the pole and raised one leg to tuck her foot behind her knee and rest it. After a few moments, she switched legs.
Nick glanced at her. “I’m sorry. I’m making arrangements and getting updates.”
“Which are?”
“I’m taking you to my sister’s house.”
“I mean the updates.”
His sister’s house sounded as bad as a lockup. The marshal and his family were strangers she didn’t know if she could trust.
“We can pick up your phone and purse.” Nick slid his phone into his pocket.
Kristen stared at him. “That’s your update? You all have nothing else?”
“We thought we had the license plate of the SUV that took your mom.”
Kristen straightened. “That’s good news, isn’t it? Can’t you trace it?”
“We did. The plate doesn’t match the description of the vehicle.”
“Stolen?”
“The license plate was. We don’t know about the vehicle.” He held out his hand as though he expected her to take it and let him lead her back to his car as he started to walk forward. “Let’s go get your phone, then get you someplace safe and comfortable.”
“Why is your sister’s house safe?”
“Her husband’s a former cop who’s now a home security systems salesman.”
“I can’t impose on strangers.” She fell into step beside him, only wincing slightly.
“No one is a stranger to my sister.”
“She’s a stranger to me.”
“So am I, but you got in my car willingly several times now.” He flashed her a grin.
Her toes curled inside the rubber-soled socks. “That’s different. You’re law enforcement.”
“Fair enough.” They reached the car and he held the still open passenger door. “I can leave you at the marshal’s office when we stop for your phone and purse. They will take you to a safe house to wait until we free Her Honor.”
She would be locked into a safe house for her own good. She knew that. She was a victims’ advocate and had reluctantly sent clients to such places for their protection, witnesses to horrendous crimes. People the Marshals Service had helped her make disappear. Now the marshals wanted to help her disappear for a while. A short while, she hoped.
She glared at Nick—up at Nick. At five feet ten inches, she didn’t get to look up with many men.
She dropped her gaze to remember the uniform and why she was with him in the first place. “I think I’m being manipulated, except I don’t know why you would prefer I go to your sister. If bad guys are after me, isn’t she in danger, security husband or not?”
“It’s such a small risk anyone will trace you there, she’s willing to take it.” He released the door. “But let’s get going. This parking lot is too exposed, and we’ve been here too long.”
She took the message for what it was—we might be watched—and slid into the Mustang. Nick closed her door before