The fragrant smell of pine filled the house, just as it had every day since last Saturday when Lenora’s sons had helped her drape the mantel and staircase with the fresh cut greenery. Her much-handled nativity was carefully placed along the top of the piano, where they always gathered to sing carols after church on Christmas Eve.
Randolph, Lenora’s deceased husband, had spent hours in his workshop, first cutting out and then coating each of the nativity figures with lead-free paint for Langston’s first Christmas. The set had been a favorite of all her children from the time they were toddlers and first heard the story of the birth of the baby Jesus. David and Derrick had spent their share of time moving the figures around and playing with the miniature sheep, cattle and camels as well.
The house was almost the way it had always been mere days before Christmas—except that it was shrouded in anxiety and the season’s joviality was hushed by the burden of heavy hearts. Only Jaime was making a stab at normalcy. She was sitting on the floor by the hearth, tape, scissors and rolls of shiny Christmas wrap at her elbow.
Christmas in the Collingsworth family had never been a time for lavish spending. When her children had been growing up, Lenora and Randolph had insisted that the focus of the season be on love and sharing with those less fortunate.
It was a tradition that had stuck, and instead of rabid shopping that they could well afford, each member of the family always put a lot of thought and frequently a lot of time and effort into their gifts.
Lenora’s treats for her family had been carefully selected and wrapped weeks ago, but today she couldn’t remember anything she’d bought except the skateboards the boys had picked out and begged for on a recent Houston shopping trip.
The front door to the house opened, and Lenora hurried into the hallway. Hopefully this time it would be Becky and Nick returning with the ransom money and not some pushy reporter who’d managed to bypass the guards at the gate.
Earlier today, one had cut down part of the fence to get on the property. Jim Bob had spotted him and sent him packing quickly enough. Like Matt said, if all their wranglers were as dependable as Jim Bob, running the ranch would be play.
“The money’s in hand,” Nick called, holding up a large valise. “Now all we need is that phone call.”
“Then you haven’t heard from the abductor today?”
“Not a word,” Becky said, the weight of the situation dragging her voice the way it pulled at her face and painted dark circles beneath her eyes.
“I’ll fix you a plate,” Lenora said. “Trish and Jaclyn made chicken pasta and a salad for lunch.”
Becky shook her head. “None for me. We stopped for lunch in Houston.”
“Which she ate two bites of,” Nick said.
He was sick over the boys but obviously worried about Becky as well. He was a good man, cocky and fun loving and sometimes she thought he had a football for a heart, but her sons liked Nick and that said a lot about his character. Lenora had always been sure he and Becky would work out their differences and make their marriage work.
But Becky was stubborn, always had been, and once she made up her mind about something, she developed a severe case of tunnel vision that never let her see another side.
She was a loving mother, though, generous to a fault. And unlike Jaime, she was seemingly unaware of her beauty or the fact that men were instantly attracted to her, as much for her grace and intellect as her stunning looks.
But stubborn, nonetheless. She’d no doubt inherited that trait from her grandfather. Jeremiah was the most hardheaded man Lenora had ever seen in her life. She’d be hard pressed to explain why everyone loved him. They just did. So did she.
Lenora and Nick followed Becky into the den.
Becky stopped next to the stack of wrapped gifts. “What are you doing?”
Jaime stuck a large red bow to a package. “Wrapping presents.”
“How can you?” Becky’s voice shook with unchecked emotion. “How can you go on like nothing’s wrong when David and Derrick are in the hands of some madman?”
Jaime pulled a strip of tape from the dispenser. “Because I won’t let myself believe that they’re not going to walk though that door tonight with you and Nick, safe and excited to be home. When they do, they’ll expect presents to shake and try to guess what’s inside.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if they don’t come home tonight? What if…” Becky exploded, kicking one of the presents. It skidded across the thick rug and onto the wooden floor before thudding against the wall.
Jaime jumped up, dropping the roll of ribbon she’d just picked up as she pulled her sister into her arms. “Oh, Becky, you have to have faith that the boys are safe. We all do. We have to believe.”
Both sisters were in tears now, holding on to each other while the fire crackled in the huge stone fireplace and streams of red satin entangled their feet. Tears burned at the back of Lenora’s eyes. Jaime never ceased to amaze her. She’d never loved either daughter more.
* * *
NICK BACKED OUT of the den and went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee though he was already so jumpy he could barely sit in one place for over five minutes. That and the ache in his neck and shoulders had made the ride back to the ranch pure torture.
There was a plate of homemade peanut butter cookies next to the coffeepot. There were always homemade cookies at Jack’s Bluff. Juanita kept the freezer stuffed with them.
He picked up one. Still warm. One of his sisters-in-law must have done the baking honors in Juanita’s absence. Everyone wanted to help. Everyone needed to keep busy.
He’d married into one terrific family—and then he’d blown it. How had he ever let things between him and Becky get to this point?
Who was he fooling? He’d known from the very beginning he wasn’t the man Becky thought he was. She’d seen in him what she wanted to see, loved a man who hadn’t really existed. It had just been a matter of time before she saw him for the fake he really was.
If anything, he’d loved Becky too much. He still did. There wasn’t a day he didn’t miss having her in his life, not a night that he didn’t long to have her in his bed and in his arms. He couldn’t even imagine making love to another woman.
But he’d never expected to bring this kind of terror into all their lives. If he hadn’t gotten hurt…If they hadn’t shown the boys’ picture on TV…If the boys hadn’t had to go to school Monday to make up for those lost hurricane days instead of already being out for the holidays…
So many ifs, but the biggest one now was if he was doing the right thing in not going to the police or trying to bring the FBI in on this. He wanted to believe he was right, but the longer this took, the more the doubts tormented him. What if he was wrong and the man never called back?
He put the cookie to his lips, then pulled his hand away and dropped the morsel into the trash. His stomach was still struggling to digest the ham sandwich he’d forced down at lunch. He was filling a pottery mug with the strong coffee when his cell phone jangled.
The coffee spilled over his fingers as he set the cup down, stuck his hand into his pocket and gripped the phone. He answered without bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello.”
“This is Dr. Cambridge’s nurse. I’m calling for Nick Ridgely.”
Damn. The doctor’s office. They’d badger him about getting back to the hospital so that they could finish the tests. The head trainer for the team had already called him about the same thing twice today. He didn’t have time for this.
“This is Nick Ridgely, but I’m expecting a very important call and can’t tie up my phone right now.”
“This is an important call, Mr. Ridgely. The doctor needs to speak with you. Hold on. He’s right here.”
The seconds Nick waited seemed interminable. His phone line needed to remain open.
“We didn’t meet, but I’m one of the staff neurosurgeons at the hospital where you were treated Sunday night. My colleague Dr. Krause asked me to review your records.”
“I understand, but I can’t talk now. I’ll have to call you back later.”
The doctor kept talking. “You left the hospital in a hurry.”
“There was a family emergency. I signed the AMA form.”
“I understand that. Are you still in a lot of pain?”
“Some.” To put it mildly. To put it more accurately, the pain was constant, but waiting for a call from the abductor was a thousand times worse.
“I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to check back in the hospital, Mr. Ridgely. It’s urgent that we get a CAT scan and an MRI.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll do that one day next week.”
“I don’t think you understand the seriousness or potential damage you may suffer from your injury.”
“Okay, give it to me straight—and fast. What’s the worse that can happen?”
“The X-rays indicate that you may have a unilateral locked facet. It’s not a common injury even in football, but it happens when the neck is flexed and rotated at the same time. The risk is that the spine may be unstable and can slip. Any sudden movement or bending of your neck could leave you paralyzed.”
Nick fought the urge to slam a fist into the wall. He couldn’t deal with this now. He had a contusion or whatever the hell the E.R. doc had said the other night. He just needed time for it to heal and he’d be fine. If it was something worse, he’d surely know it.
“Thanks for calling, Dr. Cambridge. I’ll come back in for the tests as soon as I can.”
It wasn’t until the conversation was over and the connection broken that he realized Becky was standing in the doorway to the kitchen watching him. He had no idea how much of the conversation she’d heard.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” He needed to play this cool for her sake, though he felt anything but.
“Who was on the phone?”
“Dr. Cambridge reminding me that he needs to check out my neck in a few days.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re lying, Nick. I heard the apprehension in your voice when you were on the phone, and it’s written all over your face now.”
“It’s no big deal, Becky. I may miss a game or two.” He turned his back on her and stamped toward the back door, not bothering to grab a jacket. Had it been freezing he doubted he’d feel the cold. How could he when he was sinking into hell?
Paralysis. A devil of a diagnosis to hold over a man whose sons were in danger. It wasn’t like he could just walk away from the kidnapping. He’d be careful. No sudden moves. That was the best he could do.
* * *
NICK HAD SHUT HER out again, just like always. Becky had seen his face when he was talking to the doctor. The news had been bad, but instead of sharing with her, he’d stalked out the back door to deal with his problems without her.
It shouldn’t matter so much in light of all that was going on. It shouldn’t but it did, maybe because of what they were going through.
He expected her to lean on him, but he was not about to let himself need any emotional support from her. Not about to admit that he was upset over some damn football injury that he admitted wasn’t serious.
Maybe he found it easier to confide in Brianna.
Anger and bitterness pooled in Becky’s stomach until she stormed out the back door and down the steps. When she spotted Nick walking toward the stables, she ran to catch up with him. He turned, saw that it was her footfalls he’d heard and kept walking.
He didn’t stop until he reached the railed fence that surrounded the riding arena. He propped his elbows on the top rung and stared straight ahead as if there were something to see.
A gust of wind cut through Becky’s thin cotton shirt, and she hugged her arms around her chest as she approached him. Her nerves were raw, her composure diminished to the point she had to hold on to the railing to keep steady. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your rushing off to brood over your injury instead of telling me what the doctor said.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“I think you are. All that talk of being here for Christmas with the boys was just your guilt talking, wasn’t it? Well, if you think I’m worried about your career while my boys are missing, you’re dead wrong.”
“The thought never entered my mind. But just for the record, do you actually think I’m not going through hell every second David and Derrick are with that lunatic?”
“I don’t know what you’re feeling, Nick, but whatever it is, I’m sure football and your star performance is involved in it.”
She stepped away, realizing she said too much. She let her temper and vulnerability get the better of her.
Nick grabbed her arm and held her, his gaze so intense his dark eyes seemed to be searing into hers. “I won’t contest the divorce any longer, Becky. I’ll sign whatever you say.”
She shivered as he kicked at a clod of dirt before releasing her and walking away. The finality of their relationship had never felt so real. But it was what she wanted. Holding on to a corpse wouldn’t bring it back to life.
The analogy sent new chills up her spine to eventually settle deep in her bones. She forced herself to follow Nick back to the house.
The boys’ safety was all that mattered, and Nick and his cell phone were her one link to her sons. No matter how she and Nick felt about each other, they had to get through this together.
* * *
BULL MUTTERED A new series of curses with every step he made in the growing darkness. His head felt as if it were splitting open and his brains were draining into the huge knot that had formed around the cut on the back of his head.
The blood had matted in his hair, and when he touched the wound, it felt like the sticky mess that had passed for oatmeal in the penitentiary. It gagged him, and he’d thrown up once, though the nausea was probably more from the throbbing pain at the base of his skull than the repulsive feel of his bloody scalp.
He’d never expected Nick’s sons would go violent on him. They had to get their nasty streak from their father. Big-shot NFL receiver. No wonder Becky had separated from him.
He stopped and leaned against a tree trunk, gasping for air and trying to get his bearings before he was the one lost in these stinking woods. The image of Becky fixed in his murky mind until he dissolved into a fit of coughing.
He had to find those boys. Nick would never pay off if he couldn’t produce them. No money. No flight to Mexico.
Worse, if the kids got free, they’d be able to identify him and he’d end up back in prison. No way he could let that happen. He had to find the vicious little devils before they reached the highway and flagged down a passing motorist.
Just his luck they’d been too smart to head back down the dirt road near the cabin to the highway. If they had, he could have taken his car and easily caught them before they reached help.
But the prints of their tennis shoes had led straight into the woods. He’d been able to track them easily at first, before they’d reached higher, dryer ground. Half the time they’d wandered in larger and larger circles—which meant they couldn’t be that far away now.
But it was getting darker, and he’d lost all sight of their trail a good half hour ago.
An owl hooted overhead, claiming his hunting grounds for the night. Well, the dumb bird would have to share it. Something slithered at his feet. It was too cold for snakes to be slinking though the pine straw, but still he tensed as he searched the ground.
He didn’t see the escaping creature, but he saw something a whole lot better. A screwdriver. He picked it up and rolled the amber handle around in his hand. It was his, all right, at least it was the one he used to constantly tinker with that piece-of-crap TV.
Apparently the boys had taken it with them when they’d gone on the run. Which meant they’d been in this exact spot, likely minutes ago. His heart began to pound, bringing more pain but still urging him on. It was almost as if he could smell the boys now.
This time when he got them in hand, there would be no more Mr. Nice Guy. He wouldn’t be made a fool of twice.
The twenty-four hours were up. Nick would be waiting for his call. He might be the rich, NFL superstar, but there wouldn’t be one damn thing he could do but wait.
Besting Nick Ridgely was almost as good a prize as the cash.