Paralyzed. It was a fear every wife of a professional football player lived with, but it had never seemed this frighteningly real. Becky clasped the back of a chair. The nervous adrenaline she’d lived with since the boys’ disappearance dissolved, throwing her balance off kilter.
“You told me you were fine,” she accused, “that all you needed was a few days’ rest.”
“You had enough to deal with without adding my troubles to the list.”
“Your troubles? You make it sound as if we’re talking about the common cold.” She struggled for a deep breath to steady her emotions and clear her mind. “You should be in the hospital.”
“No, I should be here. The tests can wait until the boys are safe.”
“I don’t get it,” she said, trying to make sense of the incredible. “You were in the hospital from early Sunday evening until Monday noon. Surely that was enough time for them to do a CAT scan and an MRI.”
“The machine was down, so that had to wait until morning. And then the team decided to fly in a neurologist from California who specializes in sports injuries resulting in severe trauma to the neck and spinal cord. He wanted to be there to supervise everything.”
“So they did nothing for you that night?”
“They gave me pain medication, kept me comfortable, took X-rays. The usual.”
“But no prognosis of any kind?”
“The E.R. doctor said I most likely had a central spinal cord contusion. That’s not necessarily serious.”
No, not serious at all. Only possible paralysis. “Don’t gloss over this as if I’m worrying over nothing. I may be your wife in name only at this point, but I’m still your wife. I think I deserve to know exactly what the doctors told you in the hospital.”
“In the first place, I’m not glossing over anything. I’ve set my priorities. Getting the boys back is number one on that list. In the second place, I’ve had MRIs and CAT scans before. The doctors order them if there’s any doubt. It’s called preventing malpractice suits. Their worries never amounted to anything before, and I don’t expect them to this time. I know my body. I’m not in that much pain.”
He nailed her with a penetrating stare. “And in the third place, you’re my wife in name only because you chose for it to be that way. You stopped living with me. Stopped letting me touch or make love to you. You’re the one who filed for divorce. I’ve fought it every damn step of the way.” His voice had become strained, hoarse with emotion.
He was right on all counts, but he was the one who’d repeatedly shut her out of his life, just as he’d done again by keeping his medical condition from her—as if it were none of her concern.
Her heart twisted, and a raging need settled in her chest. She didn’t know how she felt anymore except that she couldn’t bear to think of Nick’s being seriously injured. “I don’t want to argue with you, Nick. Just tell me what the doctors told you.”
“Fair enough.” He crossed the room and stepped into her space, so close she could feel his warm breath as he took her hand and pulled her into the chair she’d been using for support. “Sit down, and I’ll explain what I know.”
He pulled a chair up close to hers. “I took a bad hit. I’m not denying that.”
“I know. I saw the replay.” And the horror of watching him motionless for long, agonizing minutes was a feeling she’d never forget. “You must have been in terrible pain.”
“I didn’t feel anything. That’s what made it so alarming for me and the trainers who rushed onto the field.”
Even admitting that much was a first for Nick. He always had to be tougher than anyone else, thought any sign of weakness on the field was for rookies or sissies.
“When did the feeling return?”
“Not until I was at the hospital and through with the X-rays. I told you that on the phone when you called.”
“Exactly what is a central spinal cord contusion?”
“If you want the medically correct description, you’ll have to go to the doctor for that.”
“I’ll take layman’s terms. I just want to know what you’re up against.”
“I’m up against a possibly deranged kidnapper.”
“Nick…”
“Right. You want facts. Your way. As best I can understand it, a spinal cord contusion happens when something thumps the spine and a bruise occurs. If it improves, no problem.”
“And if it worsens?”
“Then the circulation to the spinal cord is affected.”
“And you could wind up paralyzed.” She shuddered and clasped her hands tightly to keep them from shaking. She’d thought she could handle this, but the images of Nick as a paraplegic or worse were making her physically ill.
Nick took her balled-up hands in his. “It didn’t worsen, Becky. I’m here with you. You can see that I’m fine.”
“Then why is the doctor who called yesterday and your coach so concerned?”
“The doctor is concerned that the spine might still be unstable and that if it were to receive another blow, it could still slip and cause complications. But, he doesn’t know my body like I do. I’ve taken thousands of hits. I’d know if this were more than a routine injury. I’ll go in and have all the tests he wants when the boys are safe. For now, just trust me with this.”
Hot, salty tears burned at the back of her eyes. Their marriage might be over, but Nick was the father of her sons. She’d never stopped loving him. That’s not what the divorce was about.
Nick caught an escaping tear with a brush of his thumb on her cheek. “How did we get here, Becky? How did we get to the place where we can’t touch or hold each other when faced with the most frightening time in our life? And I’m not talking about my injury.”
How? She’d gone over and over those reasons both with him and in her own mind, but at this minute, they didn’t seem all that important. They would matter again when all of this was over. When David and Derrick were safe. When Nick was back on the playing field going on with his life, that didn’t include her.
But right now, she needed him so much it hurt. She slipped her arms around his neck and held on tight.
* * *
BULL HAD THE mother of all hangovers. It felt as if someone were hammering nails into his skull as he dragged the men’s bodies into the woods. He hadn’t intended to shoot them. He’d just gone nuts when he realized they were robbing him.
Blown a fuse the way he had on the highway that day when the pregnant woman had cut in too close and forced him into the guardrail. That’s how it was with him. Something snapped and he went crazy. Drinking and drugs made it worse.
He’d made a big mistake getting drunk and high last night when the biggest deal of his life was in the making. Five million dollars ransom for a couple of bratty boys he wouldn’t have given two cents for. He should have already made the exchange by now. Should be in Mexico drinking a margarita with a pretty señorita.
Instead he was sweating like a pig and trying to cover up a couple of stupid murders. The man was heavier than he looked, and Jake’s arms ached from maneuvering the deadweight through the heavy underbrush. And after this he still had another one to go. Then he’d have to find a way to cover up the blood. It wouldn’t do to have the bodies found before he was long gone.
He had one of the men’s phones and a set of car keys. He wasn’t sure where their vehicle was parked, but he doubted it was far from here. Their boots weren’t muddy enough for them to have been out here long. Besides, with that little shower they must have gotten while he was out of it last night, their trail should be easy enough to follow.
Too bad it hadn’t rained before those Collingsworth kids had escaped. He could have found the little snots in no time and saved himself a lot of trouble. But he didn’t have to worry about them now. They were tied up and locked in. They weren’t going anywhere without him.
All he needed was to make the call to Nick Ridgely and have them meet him at Lone Star Executive Airport in Conroe. But he’d have to move quickly. In fact, he should make that call right now and then just bury the phone with the bodies.
Once these corpses were found, this area would be crawling with cops. He damn sure wasn’t going back to prison on double murder charges. A man could die behind bars for that.
Which meant if there were any complications before the exchange, he’d have to kill the Ridgely boys so that they couldn’t identify him. And then he’d find his own way to Mexico. He’d be poor, but poor and on the run beat death row by a country mile.
* * *
EVIE PARKER ARRIVED just after 9:00 a.m. carrying a medium-size tan piece of luggage and a grim expression that fit the chilly undercurrent that hung over the big house like a dark shroud. She was petite with ash-blond hair, razor cut to hug the nape of her neck.
Becky was immediately impressed with her professionalism and her warmth. Those two traits didn’t always go hand in hand. She wasn’t sure about her ability to take Becky’s place in the plane, however. Their size was similar. Their facial features weren’t.
“What’s with the paparazzi outside your gate?” Evie asked once the introductions were over. “Did word of the kidnappings leak out?”
“They’re here hounding Nick,” Sam explained. “He’s a star receiver for the Cowboys. He was injured in last Sunday’s game.”
“My brother-in-law Matt Collingsworth assigned a few Rangers to guard duty to keep the media hounds at bay,” Nick said. “The cowboys didn’t hassle you when you arrived, did they? I’d told them we were expecting you.”
“They were very efficient. They checked my credentials and waved me right through.”
Trish brought a plate of warmed coffee cake and a pot of coffee to the study as Sam caught Evie up to speed on the negotiation progress or lack thereof and on the attempts to identify and locate suspects.
Evie sipped the coffee. “Then you don’t have a real lead as to Jake Hawkins’s whereabouts?”
“Not yet,” Sam acknowledged. Crumbs showered his shirt as he bit into a chunk of coffee cake. He brushed them to the floor with the palm of his hand. “But he’s only a suspect at this point. We have nothing to tie him directly to the crime. All we know is that he has a criminal record and he went to the same high school as Becky.”
“For a few months,” Becky added.
“So our best bet would be to get a call from the kidnapper,” Evie said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Becky said. “But one other thing while we’re on the subject. No matter who the kidnapper is, if it turns out he has seen me recently, I find it difficult to think he’ll believe you’re me.”
Sam leaned back in his chair. “That’s only because you haven’t seen Evie’s disguise mastery at work. Once she’s done, even Nick may have difficulty telling the two of you apart.”
Becky motioned toward the suitcase. “And everything you need for that transformation is in there.”
“No. Some will come from your closet and dressing room. I’ll wear the outfit you choose and apply your makeup. My bag contains a couple of blond wigs that I matched to your picture and materials for altering my facial features.”
“You can alter your facial features?”
“Nothing dramatic, but minor adjustments. I took lessons from a Hollywood makeup artist who’s worked on a lot of major films. You’d be surprised how easy it is to acquire a specific look. But I don’t think we’ll have to do much altering this time. Makeup, hair and clothing will pretty much do it.”
Becky still had her doubts. “I guess seeing is believing.”
Nick pushed up the sleeve of his black T-shirt and glanced at his watch. “How long will this transformation take?”
“I like to have an hour, but I can work faster if I have to.”
“I once saw her put on twenty pounds and some serious wrinkles in under twenty minutes,” Sam said.
“Was the kidnapper fooled?”
“Yes, and she managed to take his gun away from him and apprehend him. He’s still in jail.”
Becky’s cell phone rang, startling her and running clawing fingers over her nerves. She checked the ID. “It’s a friend from Colts Run Cross,” she said, letting it ring. She’d avoided taking most of her calls since the boys’ disappearance. Eventually she’d have to return some of them but not yet. Making small talk under the circumstances would be torturous if not impossible.
Evie finished her coffee and set her empty cup on the desk next to Sam’s. “Shall we get started, Becky?”
“I’m ready, but still a bit apprehensive about your taking my place on the plane.”
Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully, though his facial expression never changed. “Evie has to take your place, Becky. It’s too risky for you to go with the kidnapper. I couldn’t guarantee your safety.”
“I’m not worried about my safety.”
“I am,” Nick said.
Not his call, but she wouldn’t argue the point until she saw what Evie could do with a wig and some war paint. “I’ll have the walkie-talkie with me.” She held it up to make her point. “Let me know immediately if the kidnapper calls.”
“Absolutely,” Sam said. “Hang in there. We’re making progress, whether it seems like it or not.”
She wasn’t fooled. He might keep up an optimistic front, but the ticking clock was wearing down all their confidence, his included.
Nick followed her to the door. When they reached it, he took her hand, tentatively as if expecting her to yank it away. “I know you’re uneasy with this, Becky, but you can’t get on that plane with that crackpot. Don’t even toy with that idea.”
She tried to pull away, not wanting to argue with him and knowing she could make no promises.
His grip tightened. “Be reasonable. The boys will need you here with them.” He met her gaze, his own fears written in every line of his face. “So do I, and I can’t face going through all this again while you’re riding the wild blue yonder with a lunatic.”
He was talking like a husband, as if the bonds between them were strong and loving. She wanted to trust that, but his need for her had always been short-lived, dissolving completely when football season claimed his mind, body and soul. Only now his season might have come to a permanent end and…
And she couldn’t deal with any of this now. The stakes for her sons were too high. She took the stairs with Evie, praying with every step that her boys were safe.
* * *
NICK’S CELL PHONE rang at exactly 10:18 a.m. The caller ID said Hermann Grazier. He didn’t recognize the name, but something deep inside him shouted that this was the call he’d been waiting for. This time he didn’t wait for Sam’s thumbs-up to answer.
“Nick Ridgely,” he said, answering with his name as he frequently did.
“It’s time for the show.”
Adrenaline rushed Nick’s system, speeding his heart until it felt as if it might burst from his chest. He pushed the button on the walkie-talkie to let Becky know the kidnapper had made contact.
“I’m ready,” Nick said.
“Then listen and get this straight. One screwup on your part and you’ll be burying your sons for Christmas.”
Nick had never hated a man more. “Which airport?”
“Lone Star Executive in Conroe.”
That would work. In fact, Langston had already mentioned it as a possibility. Langston would fly them by a helicopter—which was already waiting on the ranch helipad—to the small reliever airport northwest of Houston, where his plane and the FBI pilot by the name of Pete Halifax and two additional agents were waiting. Then it would be a very short hop to Conroe.
“We can meet you there in an hour.”
“You do that. Have the money and the pilot on the plane with the engine running. When I show up, have Becky standing near the plane. I’ll release the boys when I see her, but I’ll be armed. One foul-up and I’ll shoot to kill. I’ll get at least one of the three before you get me. I might even get lucky and get them all.
“I’ll call when I get there, and you can direct me to the waiting jet. Just remember. Double-cross me once I’m on that plane and bang bang, your sons’ mother is dead.”
Sam nodded at Nick for him to accept the conditions.
“Everything will be just as we agreed,” Nick said. “Now, let me talk to my sons.”
“I’d like to do that, Nick, I really would, but we have a little problem.”
Nick’s fists knotted. His stomach followed suit. “What kind of problem?”
“They’re not exactly with me at the moment. They’re much too annoying for me to hang out with all the time. You really should teach them some manners.”
“Where are they?”
“Telling you that would kind of void my bargaining powers, don’t you think?”
“I want to talk to them and know they’re safe and that you actually still have them before I turn over the money.”
“You’ll know soon enough. Meet me at the airport, Nick. My rules. No cops. One hour.”
Nick was reaching for Sam’s rapidly scribbled note when the connection went dead.
“I’m calling him back,” Sam said. “Demand he let you talk to David and Derrick.”
One touch of the sophisticated machinery Sam was manning had the kidnapper’s phone ringing. There was no answer.
Becky yanked off her earphones and dropped them to the desk. “We’re doing what he said. I don’t care what either of you think. They’re my sons. He says they’re safe, and I have to believe that.”
Sam grimaced. “Not the best scenario but this is manageable. So, you heard the woman. Time for the games to begin. The boys should be home by dinner.”
Nick could sense Becky’s apprehension, though she’d become more animated than at any time since this had all begun. He hated that he wouldn’t be with her for the ride to Conroe, but she’d be with Sam. He’d keep her safe.
They went over the plans again. Sam would call the shots outside the plane. Pete would be the one in control inside the plane. Pete would pretend to have a problem while preparing for takeoff. As soon as the kidnapper was distracted, the two agents hiding in the food compartment of the plane would rush out, and between the four of them, they’d disarm and apprehend their target.
It sounded simple, but Nick knew that just like a Sunday game plan, one mistake could turn victory to defeat. But unlike a football game, failure to succeed could be deadly.
“I’ll get Langston,” Becky said.
“Right,” Nick agreed, “and tell your mother to rev up the Christmas plans. This is going to be the best Christmas in the history of all Collingsworth Christmases. And I don’t plan to miss a second of it.”
Nick put out a hand to Sam as Becky disappeared through the door. “If we get David and Derrick back safely, we’ll owe it all to you. Now, just take care of my wife. I’m leaving her in your hands.”
“I’ll do my best. She’s a terrific woman. You’re a lucky man.”
“Damn lucky.”
But luck or not, he might end up losing her to a ridiculous divorce. He didn’t know how to keep her. And he couldn’t call in the FBI for that.