in Mahjidastan for the past year, searching for information about the only man on the earth who could identify Novus Ordo. And before me Aaron was there for a year. There hasn’t been a day since Rook disappeared off that boat that a BHSAR specialist hasn’t been looking for him. Suddenly, Irina pulls me out and doesn’t replace me. Novus didn’t have a chance to get his hands on me. I left within four hours of Irina’s phone call.”
Deke gave a short, sharp laugh. “That’s quite a conspiracy theory. But it makes sense—sort of. What now?”
Matt met Deke’s gaze and set his jaw. “If Novus Ordo has taken Aimee Vick’s baby to try and get his hands on me to interrogate me about Rook, I’m going to make it easy for him.”
SO FAR EVERYTHING was working well. Not bad for a plan that had been put together in less than twenty-four hours.
The Vick baby was already in safe hands. The FBI was on the case. And, most important, Parker was acting exactly as predicted. He was inserting himself right into the middle of the kidnapping investigation.
A warm sense of satisfaction spread through him. It was immaterial whether Rook Castle was alive or dead. He had a larger goal. And finally, it was in sight.
He looked at his watch. Almost time. He had a telephone call to make.
THURSDAY 1430 HOURS
AIMEE VICK PACED back and forth across the living room of her mother-in-law’s house. The room was crawling with FBI special agents, uniformed police officers, and technicians trailing spools of wire everywhere.
She looked at the grandfather clock for the hundredth time—or the thousandth. Two-thirty p.m. It had been eight hours. Eight miserable, terrifying hours without her baby.
When she’d woken up this morning and discovered that William was gone, she’d have sworn she couldn’t survive eight hours without her baby. But she was still alive, and still rational—barely.
William Matthew was only seven months old, and she’d never spent a night without him. Hardly even an hour. He was her anchor, her life since her husband’s death.
She didn’t notice that someone else had come in the front door until she heard her name called.
She turned and found herself face-to-face with Matt Parker, her husband’s best friend, her baby’s godfather, and the last man on earth she expected to see.
“Matt,” she croaked. Her voice was hoarse and sounded harsh to her ears.
The last time she’d seen him was a year ago, when he’d brought her husband’s body home. He looked just as stricken as he had that day.
Her first impulse was to run to him and hug him. But she didn’t. Her emotions were already in turmoil, and seeing Matt made things even more confusing.
She should be furious at him. After all, he hadn’t shown up for Bill’s funeral, nor for William Matthew’s christening, even though she’d honored Bill’s request to name him as William’s godfather.
She’d spent a good portion of the past year filled with anger. At Matt for taking Bill skydiving. At Bill for going off and dying. At herself for not putting her foot down and refusing to let him go.
Matt looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. After a few seconds, he raised his head enough to meet her gaze. “Aimee, I’m so sorry about your baby. I’ve talked with Special Agent Schiff. He’s agreed to let me help with the investigation—if you’ll agree.”
Aimee clutched at her abdomen, where the hollow nausea that had been her constant companion ever since Bill died was growing, threatening to cut off her breath.
“How did you get here?” She shook her head. “I mean, it just happened this morning—”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m here. Will you let me help?”
Aimee looked at Special Agent Schiff, who nodded at her reassuringly. “I can’t believe—I haven’t seen you since—”
Matt’s gaze faltered. “I know. I’m sorry, Aimee.”
Aimee started when Margo laid a hand on her shoulder—a heavy hand. “Aimee, dear, why don’t you get a glass of water?”
“Thank you, Margo, but I’m not thirsty.” She tried to step away from her mother-in-law’s grasp, but Margo held on.
“I’d like to speak to Matthew alone for a moment.”
Aimee rubbed her temple, where a headache was gathering. She knew what Margo planned to do. She was going to tell Matt to leave. She could practically see the wheels turning in her mother-in-law’s head. A lot of people in Casper knew that Matt had been with Bill when he died, and Margo didn’t like the Vicks being the subject of gossip.
Appearances. They’d always been her main concern. The magenta suit she wore attested to that. Only Aimee and the owner of Margo’s favorite dress shop knew that her first act upon hearing of her grandson’s kidnapping was to have the suit rushed over in time for the press conference.
“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of me, Margo.” Aimee stiffened her back and met her mother-in-law’s gaze.
“If you’re sure, dear.” Margo turned to Matt. “Aimee is terribly distraught. I’d rather she not be upset further. Perhaps you should leave.”
Matt raised his brows and gazed at Margo steadily. “I have every right to be here. William Matthew is my godson.”
A godson he’d never seen, Aimee thought. To make matters worse, Margo had spent the year since Bill’s death trying to coax Aimee to relinquish control of William’s future to her.
I have the resources and the connections, dear. You don’t.
Grief and fear and anger balled up inside Aimee, until she felt as if she were going to explode. She had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing out at both of them.
Aimee had loved Bill, but the six years of their marriage had been a tug-of-war between him and his mother. Now she was in the same position, standing between Margo and Matt.
“William is my child,” she blurted out. “This is my decision.”
Every eye in the room turned their way.
“Aimee,” Margo said warningly as her fingers tightened on Aimee’s shoulder. “Don’t make a scene.”
Aimee wasn’t sure how she felt about Matt showing up after a year—almost to the day—since Bill’s death, but she didn’t doubt his ability. As a weather expert and survival specialist, rescuing the innocent was his specialty.
If anyone could save her child, Matt could.
“If Special Agent Schiff agrees, I want Matt here. It makes sense for him to be involved. He’s trained in rescue and recov—” Aimee’s throat closed on the word recovery.
“Rescue,” she said as firmly as she could. No crying. She hadn’t cried yet, and she didn’t plan to start now. Crying never helped anything. She was
