The Kidnapping of Kenzie Thorn Page 8

  Myles rubbed his hand over his face, his lips puckered and a look of disgust settled into his features. “We’ve been over this. I can’t take you with me. It’s not safe for you and it could hamper my investigation.” He looked past her to Lenora, sitting in the rocking chair, knitting in front of the fire. “Grams, talk some sense into her. Please.”

  “I’m staying out of this, boy.” She chuckled. “You two deserve each other.”

  “Could you do nothing while your only family worried about you?” Kenzie jumped in.

  “Well, no. But this is different. It’s my job to protect you.”

  Sending up one more quick prayer for just the right words to convince this stubborn man, Kenzie took a deep breath. “You said that we need to figure out who is spooking Larry, right? Well, I have an idea of where to start looking for answers.”

  “Where?”

  “Not so fast. Promise me that I can go with you if you agree that it’s a good idea.”

  “Fine!” Exasperation filled his voice.

  A slow smile crept across her face. “Good. We start with Edna Whitestall.”

  “Edna Whitestall?” One eyebrow arched as he continued gazing steadily into her eyes.

  “Edna Whitestall.”

  Kenzie hugged her arms tightly around her, slowly petting the soft cotton of her new shirt. While it was still technically a man’s shirt, at least it was clean and new and didn’t smell of mothballs. More importantly, it fit. In the it-still-made-her-look-like-a-man-but-that-was-the-idea sense of the word. She rubbed her nose into the navy blue collar and inhaled again.

  She settled deeper into the front passenger seat of Lenora’s white four-door sedan. Lenora had insisted they take it when they left the cabin. The police would be looking for Kenzie’s car.

  Kenzie was content for the moment in the parking lot of an Evergreen gas station. Except that Myles had been gone for more than four minutes. He’d promised to be back in five minutes, and she couldn’t help the way her knee bounced incessantly. It seemed to know the importance of Myles’s return.

  A glance at her watch showed that he had exactly one minute left before she charged in after him.

  Then a terrifying thought slammed into her mind. What if he left her? Or what if he had been caught?

  All the money they had access to in the entire world was tucked into Myles’s back pocket. Myles had laughed at her as she flipped through the worn Bible at the cabin. It held not only a treasure trove of wisdom and hope, but cash, too. When all the bills were counted, they had exactly four hundred and seventy dollars. It was enough for both of them to get by on, until they figured out who benefited from her demise.

  But not if Myles did not return.

  She peeked again at the tiny, independent store he had walked into four minutes and thirty-two seconds before. If he did not return, she needed a course of action.

  But if he didn’t return, would she ever be safe again? What if she was forced to spend her whole life looking over her shoulder? Never safe? Always on the run? No, that would be no way to live.

  Just when she decided that she would see this ordeal through regardless of Myles’s return, the driver-side door popped open and Myles folded his long legs under the steering wheel and started the engine in one smooth motion. Four minutes and fifty-two seconds. Right on time.

  He quirked a smile at her and tossed her a plain, gray baseball cap, men’s sunglasses and the daily newspaper.

  “Well, let’s see then,” he rumbled.

  “Oh!” She caught herself staring at his sleek T-shirt, also new, that hugged his chest and showed just enough of his sculpted bicep to tempt most women. It was a very good thing she was not most women.

  Flipping her head forward, she tucked her hair beneath the cap then slid on the large sunglasses. “What do you think?”

  He looked up from studying the single page in his hands and examined her carefully. “You look too…clean.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re missing a five o’clock shadow. Put some dirt on your face the next time we stop.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was not her fault she couldn’t grow a five o’clock shadow. Most women couldn’t.

  In this case she was very thankful to fall into the category of most women.

  “Did you steal that page from the phone book in the gas station?”

  He shrugged. “I borrowed it.”

  “Nice. Great example you’re setting for the youth of America.”

  He snorted. “Youth of America, huh? And who exactly falls into the category? You?”

  “Maybe not…but still! What happens when someone comes looking for the W page and it’s gone? You’re responsible for them not being able to find their friend.”

  “I’m also responsible for us finding Whitestall’s mom.”

  “Oh.” Not the world’s best comeback, but it was good news. He’d done what he set out to do, and now they would be able to track down Edna Whitestall.

  “Let’s go meet Edna.” He jammed the car into gear and floored it out of the parking lot and into traffic.

  Myles drove like he did almost everything, with utmost confidence and coolness, and Kenzie found herself drawing from his assurance. As he weaved through traffic, she sat with her hands in her lap, not grasping the door handle as was her usual custom when driving with overly confident men.

  In no time at all, they arrived on a street lined with identical houses in varying shades of natural brown, each lawn perfectly manicured and ready for guests’, mailmen’s or the homeowners association’s inspection.

  Kenzie looked down the street and her stomach sank.

  “What’s wrong?” Myles asked, distracted by the house numbers painted on the curb.

  He must be a mind reader.

  To him she said, “My condo is about four blocks that way.” She pointed out her window. Home. It was so close. Her warm, comfortable bed. A phone from which she could call Mac and Nana.

  “Well, put it out of your mind. That’s the first place they’ll look for us and the last place we need to be right now.”

  Myles pulled the car to the side of the street and parked between two other nondescript vehicles. In a flash, his arm slammed across her, and he clamped onto her tiny hand holding the handle to open her door.

  “Wait. First we recon.”

  “Recon?”

  “Reconnoiter. Survey. Explore. Scout. Investigate.”

  “I know what it means. But why are we recon-ing—reconnaissance-ing—reconnoitering? We need to get to Edna right away. She’s got to help us figure out what’s going on.”

  “First we make sure that we’re not going to accidentally bump into Guard Whitestall. Then we see what data Ms. Whitestall wants to share with us.”

  “But won’t she recognize—”

  “Get down,” Myles hissed, pushing her to the floorboard just in time to catch a glimpse of red and blue lights on top of a white sedan heading their way.

  “What if they check the plates on Lenora’s car? They’ll know it’s your grandma and they’ll catch us!” If there was enough room between the seat and the dashboard, she would wring her hands.

  Sitting as low as he could in the driver’s seat, Myles said, “Don’t worry. This car belongs to Lenora Borden, who is in no way related to the fictional Myles Parsons.”

  “Oh.” Feeling like a squashed, rapidly blinking mushroom with back pain—do mushrooms have backs?—Kenzie elbowed her way out of the hiding place.

  “Do you think the police officer recognized either of us?”

  “No,” he said. His eyes still panned the street. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  He laughed. “You look like an old lady.”

  “I’m not old!”

  “Sure. That’s why you’re rubbing your back. Because you’re practically a kid.”

  “Practically,” she mumbled. Searching for an excuse to ignore him, she snatched up the newspaper and immedi
ately recognized the shot taking up half of the page above the fold.

  Myles noticed it, too. “Nice picture. You look good.”

  Lord, please don’t let her start crying. I can’t handle that right now! I promised Grams that I would take care of her. That I wouldn’t let her get hurt, physically or emotionally. I could really use a helping hand here. Please. Myles pleaded silently. Kenzie’s eyes, stricken with something that looked like panic, never wavered from the page. His heart nosedived and he swallowed thickly, hating that she was hurting.

  Please, oh, please let her keep that little crab shell she likes to put up. I know it’s a facade, but I really need her to keep it together until we can get to a place where we can get some rest.

  When silence had reigned almost longer than Myles could tolerate, he ventured to break into her thoughts. “What does it say?”

  She blinked owl eyes at him, then looked back down at the newsprint. “They’re pleading with you to return me, unharmed. Th-they will give you anything you want. Mac is offering a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for my safe return.”

  “You know, for a hundred thousand dollars I could make a nice start in Mexico. You want to do it?”

  Kenzie looked horrified. “Are you serious?”

  “Why not? You’d be back with your family, and I’d have a hundred grand to spend on the Mexican beach, drinking little fruit smoothies out of coconuts with umbrellas in them.”

  “But…but…someone’s trying to have me killed! And you just want to leave me? What about your job!”

  He finally cracked a smile. “Oh, all right. I’ll stay. For my job, of course.”

  “Jerk,” she said almost under her breath, but the smile creeping onto her face tattled the truth.

  “Yes. I probably am. So…is there anything about me in there?”

  She flipped through several pages, her brow wrinkling. “Here’s a little blurb about you on page five. How strange. They don’t even have a picture of you in here. It just says that authorities believe that you may have already fled the country, and that Royal Canadian Mounties are on high alert and have promised to extradite you if you’re discovered there.”

  “Not even a picture? I’m wounded!”

  They shared a chuckle at his double meaning, and Myles was inordinately happy that she shared his humor, able to laugh in such a difficult circumstance.

  Eventually, they settled into an amiable silence, Kenzie reading the newspaper, her knee bouncing up and down and Myles watching the house closely. It looked like every other house on the block: red-shingled roof, black mailbox with red flag, immaculate yard with a row of pristine flowers by the front door. Silver sedan in the driveway—some of the driveways sported SUVs, but all silver. Myles absently wondered if the homeowners association stipulated car color to keep the neighborhood uniform.

  Just then a slight, frail-looking woman exited the front door of the house he watched so closely. Her grayish-white hair bounced and bobbed with her every step, and her flowery day dress billowed in the breeze as she shuffled around the side of the house.

  She soon reappeared, dragging an enormous green garbage bin that looked like it might snap her tiny arm.

  “Is that her?” he asked.

  “Who?” Kenzie asked, still absorbed in her newspaper.

  “Is that Edna Whitesall?”

  Kenzie looked up quickly, gazing hard at the woman across the street. “I think so. I mean, I only met her once at the employee picnic. But it sure looks like her. And I think she might have been wearing the same dress.”

  “Good. Let’s go have a chat.”

  “Wait! What if Larry comes back?” She put her hand gently on his forearm. A bolt of electricity passed through the simple touch, and he almost jumped out of the car. Did she feel that connection, too? She didn’t remove her hand, but rather squeezed it tighter into his arm. Her lips pursed in a most becoming motion, and her eyes pleaded with him to be safe.

  “He won’t.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “No woman that frail is going to take her own trash to the curb when her burly son is coming home that night. He’s been gone long enough for her to know not to expect him home.”

  She looked uncertain, but finally let go of his arm. And he distinctly felt the loss of contact. “Okay, but we go together.”

  He nodded and they slipped from the car, making their way up the driveway, along the side of the silver sedan, coming into range of Edna Whitestall just as she reached for her front door.

  “Mrs. Whitestall?” Myles called loud enough to catch her attention. The old woman kept moving forward, oblivious to their presence or completely ignoring them. Her stuttered stride never faltering in her house shoes, she kept her head up and her gaze focused on the front door. Her slumped shoulders didn’t twitch and she didn’t make a sound.

  “Mrs. Whitestall!” Kenzie tried. “Edna Whitestall! May we speak with you? Please!”

  Still no response. She entered the house, closing the door behind her. Myles and Kenzie stopped on her front stoop and stared at each other. Kenzie looked as baffled as he felt. Finally he shrugged and pressed the doorbell button.

  Several minutes passed with no response. But they wouldn’t give up this easily. Myles pressed the pad of his index finger to the button, but stopped just shy of engaging the doorbell when the front door burst open.

  There stood Edna, all wild, white hair and wind-blown cheeks. A black umbrella in her hands, resting against one shoulder, meant business. Myles took a sudden step back and reached back to push Kenzie behind him.

  “Mrs. Whitestall?” When she gave no response, Myles plowed on. “I’m trying to find your son, Larry. Have you seen him lately?”

  “I already told you lot! I have no comment!” Her voice sounded like a Doberman’s bark coming from a Chihuahua.

  “We’re not from the press, ma’am,” Kenzie offered from somewhere behind Myles’s right shoulder. “We’re just looking for Larry.”

  “Go away!” Edna howled, her eyes wild. Her knuckles white around the handle of her umbrella, she pulled it back and whacked Myles’s shoulder. “I already told you, I’m not going to talk about it! But if you do see him, tell him that he needs to hurry home and clean out the garage.”

  Myles managed just an instant to survey the foyer of the house. Pale oak floors. Antique mirror hanging above a small table, on which sat a canvas bag. Sticking out of the bag was some sort of bright red rubber. On the floor stood three stacks of newspapers, each a different height, in some kind of unusual sorting system. He expected to see a cat, as he could smell the litter box even from outside of the house. That explained why she had to take her trash out even without her son to help.

  “Ye-yes, ma’am.” He rubbed his shoulder and tried to hold back his laugh. This was some strange woman.

  “Now, go away!” she yelled, slamming the door in their faces.

  EIGHT

  “I know that I should have taken her to the safe house, Nate. But she wouldn’t go.” Myles sighed heavily at the poor excuse he was giving his supervisor on the other end of the phone line. After relaying the entire story, from Whitestall coercing him to kill Kenzie to the mountain lion attack to their return to Evergreen, Myles was exhausted.

  Special Agent in Charge Nate Andersen cleared his throat from his office in Portland. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. You’ve put both of you in jeopardy, and you’ll pay the consequences.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So what’s your plan?”

  “We didn’t have any luck with Mrs. Whitestall today, but I know there’s some information in that house about Whitestall. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “All right. How are you doing for money?”

  Myles almost laughed. Nate was barely a year older than Myles, but he still came across as a father figure most of the time. “Fine. I had almost five hundred stashed in the cabin, and we’re doing okay on it. It should last at least a couple more days. Past
that, I’ll need you to wire us some money.”

  “Just let me know what you need. Take care of yourself and stay in touch. Don’t wait more than forty-eight hours to check in.”

  “Will do.”

  Myles hung up the phone and looked across the small hotel room where Kenzie sat with her back to him, her shoulders shaking slightly, but remaining silent. He ignored her for a moment, going back to the notes he’d written on the hand-size notepad emblazoned with the words Evergreen Motel, one of just a few motel choices in Evergreen. Despite Kenzie’s looks of longing toward her condo, there was no way he would put her in serious danger just to return to a place that was comfortable. He would love to return to the cabin, but it was too far to drive back and forth. The information they needed to protect Kenzie and get his job done was in Evergreen. And all the information he had was scratched onto this little notepad.

  His eyes roved over the notes.

  Guard Whitestall. Whitestall’s mom. Who else could be involved? Other guards? Superintendent Ryker? If so, how did they fit together? He drew circles around the names, drawing arrows among them, trying to make some kind of connection to the governor. How would hurting the governor help them? Did they really want to hurt the governor? Why else would they want to take Kenzie out of the picture? Was the intent to keep Governor Thorn from participating in the quickly approaching election?

  None of it made much sense. There had to be an obvious connection. The problem was that it wasn’t obvious to Myles.

  He threw his pen onto the table next to his notepad and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt like growling. As the tension in his muscles built, he wanted to fight that mountain lion again. It would release some of the pressure building in him. But the painful twinge in his leg reminded him that he hadn’t walked away from that battle unscathed. Even though he’d spent a day recovering in the cabin, the angry wound still seeped blood when he overexerted his leg. The pain was just another distraction from his main goal: protecting Kenzie. Another glance in her direction, and he could see from her posture that she was upset.