had the caller told her to go to the cabin? Because it was deserted?
The timing of the phone call didn’t escape her either. She had heard nothing for four months and now this call, only days after the election was over and Joshua had taken office, when her father said the FBI was pulling back, when he’d tried to convince her to give up—a nagging suspicion took hold that her father and his campaign cronies might have orchestrated the kidnapping and now that Joshua was in office, had decided to return the baby. Where better to meet her than someplace deserted, someplace owned by their family, someplace where they might leave the baby or be able to convince her not to press charges?
And if her father wasn’t involved and was giving up on finding Sky, if the FBI was pulling back, then she had to do something. Because she would never give up.
Her hands trembled as she threw off her robe. For a brief second, she considered calling Night for help.
But his bitter parting words still stung, and she had to hurry. Maybe, just maybe, her prayers had been answered and she would have her son back in her arms for Christmas.
Then maybe Night could forgive her. And she could forgive herself.
She scribbled a note and left it on her dresser, explaining she had received a phone call, maybe a lead to where Sky was, and that she had gone to check it out. She wouldn’t disturb Celia—her poor mother had suffered almost as much as Holly had the past few months. No, Holly would have her cell phone with her and would call as soon as she made it to the cabin and was reunited with Sky.
Realizing winter had already descended, she dressed in warm socks, hiking boots, jeans and a T-shirt, and threw a denim shirt over the ensemble. She stuffed her cell phone back into her purse, checked to make sure she still had the mace she carried for protection, and packed a backpack full of baby supplies—diapers, formula, water, baby wipes. And she couldn’t forget Bun-Bun. She kissed the bunny’s nose, then stuck it in the bag. Then she retrieved the small pistol her father had bought her to take to the cabin. He’d insisted she carry some kind of protection when she traveled there alone. It had been the gun or a bodyguard. She’d chosen the .22.
Anticipation zinged through her as she grabbed her coat, gloves and hat and slipped out the back door. Late evening shadows blackened the walls, nearly obliterating her path as she found her way to her car. Traffic wouldn’t be bad in the middle of the night, but she was nervous, and she didn’t want to drive fast. Besides, she had several hours ahead of her. Then she’d have to get a horse and ride to the cabin.
As expected, she passed only a few cars on the highway, the mountains on both sides cresting and enfolding her in their beauty. A light snow had begun to fall, the crystals splashing her windshield like teardrops. She turned on the defroster, the haze of the storm making visibility difficult. Yet as she drew near Aspen and then turned onto the dirt road that led to the stable where the Langworthys kept horses, snow spewed behind her wheels and the sense of isolation replaced the awe of the mountains. Normally, she loved retreating to the cabin. She’d been tempted to hide out there ever since Sky had disappeared, but hadn’t wanted to leave the mansion in case they received word about the baby.
Prairie land stretched before her, the onset of winter painting the landscape with a blanket of white. Darkness was giving way to predawn shades of gold and orange by the time she reached the stable. Another storm cloud hovered on the horizon, ready to rob the sun before it could explode into morning glory.
She parked by the corral and grabbed her fur-lined denim jacket, hat and gloves, hoping to leave for the cabin before any of the ranch hands discovered her mission and questioned her.
She snuck into the barn, slung the backpack onto the ground, then saddled up her favorite black and white paint, Sledge. After packing her supplies in the saddlebags, she took off toward the cabin.
The air was frigid, the wind howling through the treetops. She tugged the collar of her jacket around her neck and guided Sledge into the hills, resorting to the steep path through the woods that would shorten her journey. Riding again felt wonderfully liberating, as if the tension was ebbing away with her descent into the woods. Yet the nagging worry that the call had been a setup still dogged her.
She tamped down the worry, letting excitement spur her on—soon she would see her son again, hold him. How much had he grown? Would he even recognize her?
The fact that the caller hadn’t mentioned ransom money still seemed odd. After all, her father was a millionaire. Had he orchestrated the kidnapping to gain publicity for Joshua or to teach her a lesson because she’d insisted on keeping the baby, against his wishes, and then because she’d refused to marry Carlton? Surely he wouldn’t be that cruel, although he had behaved strangely the past few months. And the whole ordeal with Carlton…
She shuddered, a wolf’s cry from the hills reminding her how dangerous riding alone could be. Then again, rescuing her son was worth the risk. After all, what kind of life did she have ahead if she had to go on living without her little boy?
Night’s face flashed into her mind, his bitter parting words haunting her. Not only did he despise her for keeping Sky’s birth a secret, but he blamed her for the kidnapping.
Her father, ashamed of her for having an illegitimate child, had kept the baby a secret because of the media, but he’d also wanted to delay public knowledge of her son in hopes he could marry her off to a respectable man—Carlton Sanders. And Night thought she was so despicable she might even have been a party in her own son’s disappearance. As if the fact that he had never contacted her after the night they’d made love hadn’t hurt enough.
Heavy clouds moved closer, casting an ominous feel over the forest, the spiked leaves above her creating a web of fingery shadows. She ignored the chill. In a few minutes, she might be cradling her baby in her arms. Just as she reached the clearing to the cabin, a loud roaring sound burst through the animal sounds of the forest.
A plane? No, a helicopter. Probably one of the rescue teams looking for stranded hikers or tourists. She reached the incline to the cabin, patting Sledge as rocks sprayed from beneath his hooves. “We’re almost there, buddy. We’re going to get Sky.”
The sight of the cabin evoked bittersweet memories of happier times, but also offered hope that the torture of the past few months would soon end. She scanned the exterior for signs of life, of an intruder, even a horse or snowmobile to indicate she had company, but saw nothing. Thankfully, she’d arrived before the kidnapper. She’d have time to prepare.
Still, she approached the cabin slowly, easing up on the reins to gather her courage as well as to keep an eye on the doors and windows. Bringing the paint to a halt, she set him loose in the corral to the side of the cabin and made sure he had water. She’d wait until she checked out the cabin before she unsaddled him and put him in the barn. She might have to escape in a hurry.
Her boots crunched on the icy gravel as she walked toward the cabin. Unease clawed at her as she unlocked the door then it opened. She searched the dark interior but saw nothing. The whir of the helicopter drifted nearer, and she glanced over her shoulder just as it circled the clearing. She paused to see if it was going to land, but a shadow moved in the corner of the room. Heart pounding, she reached inside her purse for the pistol, but someone grabbed her from behind and shoved a rag over her mouth and nose. She bucked backward, struggling to breathe, digging her hands into the man’s arms. She tried to scream, but tasted something strange, and inhaled a pungent odor. Some kind of chemical. Gas? Chloroform?
Desperate, she clawed at his hands, then jabbed her elbow backward to connect with the man’s stomach. He grunted, then jerked her harder against him, pinning her in
