Her Stolen Son (11 page)

She reached for the door handle. “I'm thirsty. How about you?”

He quirked a brow. “Sure. Let's go.”

She opened her door, ignoring the rancid odor of garbage and urine as they wove along the alley. The moon fought to push its way through the dark clouds but lost, casting the night with the gray bleakness of despair and doom.

She passed a homeless man curled on top of a piece of cardboard, dug in her purse and dropped five dollars into his hand. “For food,” she said, knowing he might use it for booze. But it was his choice. Whatever fed his weary soul.

He reached up and patted her hand, his eyes full of emotion and the haze of too long having been shunned. “God bless you, girl.”

“You, too.” Serena smiled at him, remembering the kind old lady who'd taken her in after the juvenile center. Miss Birdie. She'd told Serena her own sad story about the street life, then claimed that one day she'd found Jesus and it had changed her life. She'd kicked the booze habit and decided to help others instead of wallowing in her own grief.

Serena had cried her heart out the day the poor woman had died. But she had been grateful for those years for they had inspired her to turn her own life around. Miss Birdie had made her believe in family and that she deserved to be loved, to have a family of her own.

She glanced down at her clothes. Her jeans and conservative shirt were great for mothering but not for
attracting attention at a bar. She removed her ponytail holder and fluffed her long hair, giving it a tousled look, then knotted her T-shirt below her breasts, exposing her stomach. A quick swipe of lipstick added to the party girl look.

Colt arched a thick brow, but didn't comment as the blonde approached him and stroked his arm seductively. “Hey, handsome, what can I do for you?”

Colt offered her a smile. “We're looking for Dasha. You know her?”

The blonde pinched her collagen-enhanced lips together. “Damn that girl, she gets all the cute ones. I ain't seen her tonight.” She stroked his jaw with her bloodred fingernail. “You sure I can't help you, honey? I ain't had no complaints yet.”

“Thanks, sugar, but I really need Dasha.” Colt folded a twenty-dollar bill into her cleavage. “When she shows, tell her to find me inside.”

Serena maneuvered past them and inside the bar. Cheap beer and booze flowed, laughter, jokes and loud music blaring. Two tattooed men with beer guts by the jukebox whistled at her while a younger skinhead looked up from the pool table and gave her a once-over. Obviously deciding she wasn't worth his time, he returned to the game.

Serena claimed a barstool and ordered a draft beer. Colt did the same, his gaze scanning the room. A biker in a leather vest and jeans with shoulder-length hair straddled the stool on the opposite side of her.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Serena opened her mouth to speak but Colt cut in. “She's with me.”

The man lifted a questioning brow at her. “Really?”

She tamped down her irritation at Colt. “Yeah. We're looking for Dasha.”

“What? You into threesomes?”

Serena shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Do you know her?” Colt asked.

The man shrugged. “I've seen her around.”

The bartender pushed their beers toward them, and Serena took a sip, her gaze spanning the dark room. A big-haired redhead sidled in from a back entrance, her miniskirt showcasing killer legs, her lips painted to match her hair.

The blonde they'd met outside stood behind her, then gestured toward Colt.

“Dasha's here.” Serena wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sashayed across the room past the pool table and two husky men wearing painters' clothes parked in a booth wolfing down burgers.

The blonde scooted out the door, and Dasha sashayed to the corner near the restroom, pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Serena ignored the curious looks of the inebriated men as she ducked past the dart game and met the redhead.

Colt propped himself against the wall casually. “You're Dasha?”

The redhead tilted her head back and blew a string of smoke into the air. “Who wants to know?”

“My name is Serena Stover,” Serena said, and Dasha instantly stiffened.

“You're Parker's wife,” Dasha said more in acknowledgment than a question. She glanced away, tapped the ashes from the cigarette onto the scarred wooden floor, then sighed. “Some sad crap, him gettin' blown away like that. He was a decent man.”

Serena's stomach clenched. She'd had so many mixed feelings about Parker the past two years, that it surprised her to hear this woman's thoughts. Then again, even if Parker hadn't slept with Dasha, the woman could have been in love with him.

What did it matter now?

“Dasha, I need your help,” Serena said, hoping to relate as one woman to another. Maybe two women who had loved the same man.

Dasha studied Serena, then cut her gaze toward Colt. “And you? What do you want out of this?”

“Just answers,” Colt said, then removed two fifties from his wallet and pushed them into Dasha's hand. “I guess you haven't seen the news?”

Dasha shrugged. “TV don't work. What's goin' on?”

“I was arrested for killing a man named Lyle Rice,” Serena said.

“Why'd you kill him?” Dasha stiffened her spine. “He get mean with you?”

Serena bit her lip. “I barely knew the man. I'd met him for coffee then had dinner, but he hit my son so I told him to get out. That night he was supposedly murdered.” Serena shuddered as the vile memory intruded on her calm. “Anyway, I was framed. But the short story
is that social services took my son, but he was kidnapped that night. I'm looking for him now.”

Dasha inhaled another drag of her cigarette. “What makes you think I know something about your boy?”

“Listen, Dasha,” Colt said, his voice laced with impatience. “So far we know Parker Stover was working undercover, and that his investigation got him killed. We also know Rice had a vendetta against Stover because he arrested him.”

“And,” Serena said, her voice brittle, “I talked to Parker's partner and he admitted you were Parker's CI.”

A look of panic streaked Dasha's green eyes, making her look pale even in the dark. She tapped her cigarette, then raised a finger to her mouth to shush them as the pool player who'd looked at Serena lumbered by and strode into the john.

“You don't go sayin' that out loud,” Dasha muttered. “Next thing you know I be six feet under.”

Serena caught Dasha's arm. “Look, Dasha, I don't care what kind of relationship you had with my husband. I honestly don't. All I want is to find Petey.” She lowered her voice, tried to appeal to the woman's maternal instincts, and wondered if she possessed that side at all.

Tears blurred Dasha's eyes for a moment, then she tossed the cigarette to the floor and crushed it with her boot. “I'm sorry about your kid, I really am.”

“Then tell us what you know,” Colt demanded.

The pool guy exited the bathroom, shot Dasha a dark look, then meandered back to the pool table. A chill
skated up Serena's spine. Had he been listening to their conversation?

Dasha seemed panicked, swung away and quickly veered into the bathroom. Serena followed her, and caught her just before she disappeared into a stall.

“You're gonna get me killed just like Parker,” Dasha bit out.

Serena ignored the jab of guilt that comment triggered. “I'm sorry, Dasha, but my son is only six, and I'm terrified that he might be hurt. The kidnapper hasn't phoned for a ransom, and I don't know where else to turn. Just tell me what Parker was investigating. Was it a drug ring? Something else?”

Dasha flinched as if Serena's statement troubled her, then released a heartfelt labored sigh. “It wasn't drugs,” Dasha murmured, giving her a sympathetic look.

Serena didn't want her sympathy. “If not drugs, then what?”

A pained look stretched across Dasha's face. “It was a child kidnapping ring.”

 

P
ETEY WOKE TO THE SOUND
of crying.

He was curled on his side, his hands and feet tied, but the rag around his eyes was gone.

Still, it was so dark he couldn't see his own fingers or where he was. His body bounced and slammed into a metal wall. The rumbling of an engine, of cars passing by, of the gears grinding echoed in his head.

A truck. He must be in the back of some kind of truck. It hit a rough patch and he bounced again, then
tires screeched as the vehicle veered sideways, throwing him to the opposite wall.

The sob grew louder.

“Help me,” a voice whispered into the dark. “Please, is someone there?”

Petey swallowed against the vile taste of whatever the man had drugged him with. He was so thirsty he could hardly make his voice work.

But he had to.

The sound was a little girl. She must be tied up just like him.

A low wail rent the air, and then the sound of fingernails scratching against the metal wall. “Let me out,” the little girl cried.

“Me, too.”

Petey froze. Another little girl was in here, too.

Petey tried to crawl toward them. He didn't know why the man had locked them in here or ripped him from bed. He didn't know where his mommy was, but she'd answered the phone so she must be out of jail.

The sobbing continued, and he blinked back his own tears and moved toward the sound. The truck bounced again, throwing him sideways, and his shoulder hit the wall. But a second later, he careened to the other side.

“I know someone's here,” the little girl cried. “Who are you?”

Petey sucked back a cry himself, then rolled toward her. “I'm Petey,” he whispered.

“Did the mean man steal you, too?” the other little girl whispered.

“Yes.” He scooted closer to them and felt both little
girls shaking. “Shh, don't cry,” he murmured. “Everything's gonna be all right. I'll 'tect you.”

Then he closed his eyes and pictured his mommy and Mr. Colt in his mind. Mr. Colt would find them. He was smart and big and strong, and Petey had hired him so he wouldn't give up. And as soon as he got a chance, he'd blow that whistle Mr. Colt gave him.

Then someone would find them and call their mommies and they could go home.

“A child kidnapping ring?” Serena whispered. “In North Carolina?”

Dasha shrugged. “Look, that's all I know. Parker never meant to tell me that much. It just sort of slipped out when…” She paused, her eyes widening as if she realized she'd said too much.

“When you were in bed,” Serena said, realizing her first instincts had been correct.

Dasha jerked her head downward and spoke beneath her breath. “He still loved you, you know. He just… The undercover work got to him sometimes.”

“And you understood that,” Serena said.

As if she hadn't grown up on the streets and would have understood, too. Only she had shut down that part of her life and refused to share it with him.

So he'd done the same.

“What else do you know about this kidnapping ring?” Serena asked. “Was Rice part of it?”

Dasha's earrings jangled as she shrugged. “I told you, that's all I know. Now, I need to get back to work before someone gets suspicious.”

She pushed past Serena out the door, leaving the cheap scent of her perfume and more questions lingering behind.

Perspiration beaded on Serena's neck, and she splashed water on her face, then grabbed a paper towel and patted her cheeks dry. Her pulse pounded as she rushed out the bathroom door. She spotted Dasha near the back entrance having a heated discussion with the pool boy, but she raced to Colt.

“What did she tell you?” Colt asked.

Serena's throat felt thick. “Parker thought he'd stumbled onto a child kidnapping ring.”

Colt muttered an obscenity. “Did she say who's behind it?”

Serena shook her head. “She didn't know any details. But Colt, if Petey was abducted as part of a kidnapping ring, then whoever took him doesn't plan to give him back.”

The horror stories on the news about abducted kids being sold to strangers as sex slaves and being shipped to foreign countries never to be seen again bombarded her, and pure terror threatened to bring her to her knees.

 

C
OLT GRIPPED HIS HANDS
into fists, struggling to control his own reaction. Petey had come to him for help, and he'd let him down.

Had Parker really discovered a child kidnapping ring? If so and the man who'd abducted Petey was involved, then Petey was in grave danger.

Cissy's comment about sensing that other kids had been tied in the same truck she had been locked in
reverberated in his head. Dear God. Pedderson hadn't only taken Cissy for his sister as they'd originally thought, but he'd known Rice, and might have been connected to a child kidnapping ring.

Alarm bolted through him. But whom were they selling the kids to? People wanting to adopt? Child predators? Human trafficking rings?

“Come on.” He gestured for Serena to follow him, and they maneuvered through the bar and outside. As soon as they settled inside his SUV, Colt punched in the number for GAI. “Gage, it's Colt. There's been a development. Can you put Ben on speakerphone?”

“Sure, hang on a second.”

Colt waited until Ben came on the line. “What's up?”

Colt gripped his phone as he sped from the parking lot. “Serena and I just met with Parker Stover's CI. Stover was investigating a child kidnapping ring. We think that's what got him killed, and that the person behind it abducted Petey.”

“Dammit,” Gage muttered. “Then Cissy's comments make sense. Pedderson must have been involved.”

“Yeah, push Mansfield hard, and see if he knows who's behind the deal,” Colt said.

“I will. And I'm calling my friend Agent Metcalf at the Bureau. Maybe he's gotten wind of this ring and can fill us in.”

Ben cleared his throat. “The code in the ledger could have been dates of kidnappings or drops, even business transactions. Let me take a crack at it from that angle and see if I can pinpoint details of the abductions. Maybe
cracking the code will reveal where they're taking the kids.”

Serena shivered beside him and fresh guilt assaulted Colt. “Maybe Parker was getting too close, and Rice hired Rouse to kill him before he could break up the ring.”

“Speaking of Rice,” Gage said. “The crime tech called about the blood at Rice's. You were right. A small portion of it was Rice's, but the larger quantity came from an animal. A goat, to be exact.”

“So Rice very well may have faked his own death to frame Serena, and then kidnap Petey,” Colt said, thinking out loud.

“The evidence definitely points in that direction,” Gage said.

Colt glanced at Serena, grimacing at the strain on her face. She'd been tough as nails in that bar, but the realization that some maniac might be planning to sell her son had to be paralyzing her with fear. “We have to find this son of a bitch and nail him,” Colt said between gritted teeth.

“The tip hotline is up and running, and I'll contact NCMEC,” Gage said. “Maybe something will come in soon.”

“Make sure the airport security, train stations and bus stations are also alerted. We don't want Rice getting out of the country.”

“I'll get on it right away,” Ben said.

Colt struggled to maintain a calm voice. “I have a contact with Special Victims Unit in Raleigh. Maybe he's heard something about this kidnapping ring.”

They agreed to keep in touch, and Colt punched Detective Ian Shaw's number. Serena had turned to look out the window, a faint sliver of moonlight streaking her gaunt face. Thick trees and mountains rose around them, ominous, eerily quiet. So many places for a criminal to hide.

Shaw's phone rang once, twice, three, four times, then on the fifth the message machine clicked on. “Shaw, it's Colt. I'm working an investigation regarding a child kidnapping ring. Call me ASAP.”

He disconnected and glanced at Serena again. She'd been strong so far, but he sensed the deep pain and fear racking her body, and he ached for her.

His phone trilled, and he figured it was Shaw, but he checked the caller ID again and it was Derrick. “Yeah?”

“Colt, Gage just filled me in on what's happening. Forensics just called. The partial print they found on Derrick's window definitely belonged to Rice. And the boots matched the prints in the dirt outside my window.”

“So the bastard is really alive.”

“Yeah. Gage and I talked. He's going to call the media and have them rerun the story, alerting everyone that Rice may have Petey.”

“Thanks. I'll call Serena's lawyer and see if she can get the charges dropped against Serena.”

Serena was watching him quietly as he ended the call. “Lyle is alive?”

He nodded and explained about the prints. “Kay Krantz should be able to get the judge to drop the charges against you now.”

She shrugged as if it didn't matter, and he realized that nothing mattered to her now except finding her son.

 

S
ERENA'S CHEST CLENCHED
, despair threatening. But she couldn't give up yet.

Colt covered her hand with his. “We will find him, Serena. And when we do, you want to be free so you can both put this nightmare behind you.”

Serena nodded, yet a cold knot of grief and fear twisted her gut. She wasn't sure she could survive without her son.

Resorting to self-preservation mode, she closed her eyes, desperate to block out the terrifying images of what her son might be facing. But the sound of her son's cries couldn't be silenced.

The lull of the vehicle grinding gears and coasting around the mountain finally dulled her senses, though, and she drifted asleep. Oblivion would have been a reprieve, but even in her sleep, the nightmares tormented her.

She jerked awake just as Colt pulled into the driveway. Darkness coated the house, only a thin thread of light streaking the front window where her son usually slept.

The silence in the house sent a wave of pain through her as they entered. It had been twenty-four hours since Petey had gone missing.

When she'd heard the news she'd been terrified, but had hoped to trade him for ransom money.

Now she realized that ransom wasn't the motive.

It was much worse. Rice was going to sell her son on the streets, maybe in some foreign country, where kids became lost forever.

Colt moved up behind her, and rubbed her arms. “I know it's hard, Serena, but try to stay positive. We will arrest this ring and find Petey.”

Colt's caring concern brought tears to her eyes, and she leaned against him, desperately needing his comforting voice and arms.

She slid her hands up his torso and rubbed slow circles across his chest. His breath hitched slightly, and he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against him.

“I know it's been a rough day,” he murmured against her hair.

“I just want my son back,” she whispered.

“I know, and we will get him back.” He pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead and the tears began to slip down her cheeks. But he didn't push for more. Instead, he held her and let her vent her emotions until she finally sighed and wiped at her face.

Then she tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. He'd driven all night and looked tired, but compassion and concern and other emotions she didn't understand registered on his face as if fatigue never slowed him down. With one thumb, he swept her hair away from her forehead. His lips parted, the whisper of his breath brushed her face.

She moaned, part pain, part need. And desire flickered in his eyes. “Serena?”

“Please kiss me, Colt. Make the pain go away for a while.”

He clenched his jaw. “I don't want to take advantage of you.”

She traced a finger along his taut cheek. “It's not taking advantage if I ask.”

He stared at her for another long moment, indecision warring with raw hunger on his face. Then he lowered his mouth and settled his mouth over hers. Eager for his warmth, she parted her lips and savored his touch as their mouths melded together.

She was hungry, needy, yearning for something that seemed beyond her reach. Desperate to forget that her son was missing, that her husband had slept with his CI, that Lyle Rice had used her for his revenge.

That desperation drove her to plunge her tongue into Colt's mouth, to take as well as receive, to strip his shirt and trace her fingers over the soft whorls of dark hair covering his broad chest.

Parker had been strong and muscular but lean compared to Colt's rock-hard body. His breath caught again, and he traced his lips along her jaw, suckling the sensitive skin behind her ear and trailing kisses along her neck until his fingers began to shove at her T-shirt.

She raised her arms, inviting him to strip the shirt, and he did. A cool breeze from the air conditioner sent a shiver through her, or maybe it was the passionate look of appreciation in his eyes as he skimmed his gaze over her lacy black bra.

She had an affinity for sheer undergarments and the
bra hid nothing from his perusal. Instead, her nipples jutted and strained against the sheer fabric, begging for his hands and mouth.

 

T
HE SIGHT OF
S
ERENA
in that lacy black bra triggered a fever inside Colt. He had never seen anything more beautiful.

His chest was tingling from her touch, his lips aching to close themselves over one turgid nipple and tug it into his mouth.

She licked her lips and emitted a low moan of pleasure as if she enjoyed his visual perusal. Hungry for more, he pulled her against him, and the friction of their bodies rubbing together stirred his primal instincts.

He hadn't been with a woman in ages. For the past two years he felt as if his hands held the stench of blood and dirt and lies from his undercover work, that he didn't deserve love or tenderness, at least not from a decent woman.

Maybe that was the reason her husband had hooked up with Dasha. Even if Geoff Harbison denied Parker and Dasha were lovers, Colt had seen the flicker of grief in Dasha's eyes and known Stover's partner had lied. He'd probably wanted to protect Serena.

But Serena was no one's fool.

Anyone could understand the attraction.

Especially a man. Dasha had no expectations, no emotional ties to him. A man could have mindless sex and purge his anxiety without revealing the pain he carried inside or his own needs.

A man could not do that with Serena.

His heart pounded. He was getting too close to her. Caring about her. Caring about her son. For that very reason, the rational voice insides his head ordered him to stop.

But his hands disobeyed and inched themselves along Serena's spine, urging her nearer. She threaded her fingers in his hair and traced her tongue along his nipple, and he sucked in a raspy breath.

Dammit, how could he pull away when he wanted her with every fiber of his being?

He plunged his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth again and ravaged her with his kiss, hungry, needy, anxious to make her forget her fear, if only for a moment. Her hands urged him to take her, and he lowered his mouth and nibbled at her throat and neck, until he reached the lacy rim of her bra. He tugged it away with his teeth, and suckled the soft skin beneath, then flipped open the front clasp of her bra.

Her lush breasts fell into his waiting hands, and he massaged them gently, tracing his fingers over her jutting nipples. She moaned again, and he licked his way to one stiff peak and drew it into his mouth.

She sighed with pleasure, stroking his calf with her foot as he laved one breast then the other. Spurned by her excitement, he yanked her hips into his and rubbed his erection between her thighs.

When she reached for his belt, he moaned in anticipation and unsnapped her jeans.

But the jangle of the telephone cut into the moment, and both of them froze. His ragged breathing punctuated
the silence, and they stared at each other for a brief second. The desire and need in her eyes wrenched his gut. He wanted to pleasure her more than he wanted his next breath.