man with the baby stroller until he moved in the opposite direction.
“Lighten up, Mack,” a voice said directly behind them. “Don’t turn around.”
Tracey stiffened next to him, the bottle of water hitting the floor. A clear indication that she recognized the voice. The guy behind him tapped on Josh’s shoulder with a phone.
“Pass me the one you just bought.”
Josh forced himself not to look at the man. No mirrored surfaces were nearby. The guy even covered the phone before it got close enough to see his face in the black reflection of the screen.
“That’s good, Major. You’re doing good. Now, I know you’re concerned about your kids. You can see them when you play the video in about twenty seconds. Just let me get through this service hallway. Yeah, you’ve got a choice—let me go or follow and lose any chance of ever seeing your brats.” The kidnapper tapped the top of Josh’s head. “Count to twenty. Talk to ya soon.”
Josh had his hands ready to push up from the bench and tackle the guy to the ground.
“No.” Tracey pulled him back to the bench. “You heard him. He means it. We have to stay here and let him walk away. You promised to do whatever it took. Remember? So please just turn the phone on and get their instructions.”
He listened to Tracey and stayed put. The phone had been handed to them with gloves. Most likely no prints, so he turned it on. He clicked through the menu, finding the gallery.
There were several pictures of the twins playing in a room—sort of like a day care crowded with toys. The video shattered his already-broken heart. Sage was crying. Jackson was “vroom vrooming” a car across his leg and through the air.
A voice off camera—the same as behind them—told them to say hi to their daddy.
“I want to go home.” Sage threw a plush toy toward the person holding the phone. “Is Trace Trace picking us up?”
Tracey covered her mouth, holding her breath again.
“Can you remember what you’re supposed to say? You can go home after you tell your daddy,” the kidnapper lied.
The twins nodded their heads, tucking their chins to their chests and sticking out their bottom lips. They might be fraternal, but they did almost everything together.
“Daddy, Mack says to go to... I don’t remember.” Jackson turned to his sister, scratching his head with the truck. “Do you remember?”
“Why can’t you tell him?” Sage pouted.
“Come on, it has a giant bull.” Another voice piped in.
“We’ve been there, Jacks. It’s got that big bridge, ’member?” Sage poked him.
“Can you come there and pick us up, Daddy?” Jackson cried.
“Maybe Trace Trace can?” Sage’s tears ran full stream down her cheeks.
“You have twenty minutes to be waiting in the middle of the bridge. Both of you. No cops,” a voice said on top of the twins cries.
The video ended. All Josh wanted was to rush to the Chisholm Trail Bridge and pick them up. But they wouldn’t be there. Instructions would be there. The guy who’d dropped the phone off would be watching them to make certain they weren’t followed.
“Let’s go.” He wrapped his hand around Tracey’s. It killed him to hear his kids like that.
“Are they going to keep us running from one spot to another? What’s the point of that? And why have us buy a new phone only to replace it with this one?”
While they were leaving the mall in a hurry would be the ideal time for a kidnapper to try to grab one or both of them. He locked their fingers and tugged Tracey closer to his side.
“Before we get to the car...” He lowered his voice and stopped them behind a pillar at the candy store. He leaned in close to her ear, not wanting to be overheard. “We need to look closely where he touched us. He might have planted a microphone.”
He dipped his head and turned around to let Tracey check. She smoothed the cloth of his shirt across his shoulders.
“I don’t see anything, Josh.” She shook her head and turned for him to do the same.
He pushed his fingers through his short hair. Found nothing. Then ran them through Tracey’s short wavy strands and over her tense shoulders.
“If I were them, I’d use this time to plant a listening device. I’d want to know if we were really cooperating or playing along with the Feds.”
“Who are you playing along with?” She looked and sounded exasperated.
“I’m on team Jackson and Sage. Whoever I have to play along with to get them back home. That’s the only thing that’s important to me.”
“All right. So you think they’re planting something in the car?”
“Got to be. Or this phone is already rigged for them to listen. Stand at the back of this store and keep an eye out while I call McCaffrey on his phone.” Josh took a last look around the open mall area to see if they were in sight of security cameras or if anyone watched them from the sidelines.
Tracey smothered the kidnapper’s phone with the bottom of her shirt. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.” He waited for her to get ten feet away from him then took the FBI-issued phone and dialed the only number logged.
As soon as he was connected he blurted, “They have a new phone listed in my name. Bought it prepaid at a kiosk. No idea what the number is. Handed us another and told us to head to the Brazos Suspension Bridge.”
“You can cross that on foot. Right?” McCaffrey was asking someone on his staff. “You know they’ll be waiting on the other side.”
Tracey kept watch, walking back and forth along the wall. She’d look out the storefront window, then make the horseshoe along the outside walls again to look out the other side.
Josh kept his head and his voice down. “I can’t contact you on this again. It’ll be in the car.”
“We’ll have men on the north side of the bridge waiting,” McCaffrey stated. “Trust me, Josh.”
“For as long as possible.” He pocketed the phone, waved to Tracey.
“Josh, the kidnapper called you Mack. I remember that they all called each other Mack.”
“It kept them from using their real names. Helped hide their identities.” He didn’t speak his next thought—hoping that they kept their masks on in front of his kids.
They both walked quickly from the mall toward the car.
“We just used five of our twenty minutes. Aren’t you going to call Bryce and let him know where we’re headed?”
“No need.
