Into the Whirlwind (5 page)

“Good point. What about the babysitter?”

“Pamela Vardon. Now she's more interesting. Her record's clean. No priors, nothing like that. But she comes from a broken home. Dad was abusive. Mom was a drunk. Pamela works two jobs just to stay afloat.”

“She knew Charlie's nap time,” he said. “That was crucial to making this whole scheme work. Luke's on his way over to her apartment. I have a feeling she isn't going to be there.”

“You think she took the boy?”

“No. It took some strength to get up on that roof and into the kid's bedroom, then get back down carrying the boy. She didn't take him, but my gut says she's in it up to her eyeballs.”

“Pretty eyeballs,” Sadie corrected. “I'll send you her picture.”

The computer signaled incoming mail. He brought it up and looked down at the dark-haired girl staring back at him. If she looked anything like her photo, Pamela Vardon was more than pretty, she was beautiful.

“I sent you something else before you called,” Dirk said. “You get it?”

“I got it. Haven't had time to look at it yet.”

Dirk went on to tell Sadie about Edwin O'Brien and Burton-Reasoner Industries. He told her about Solar-Renew and how the company had failed, told her about the layoffs and disgruntled employees, including the names of the two men O'Brien's assistant had said made threatening remarks.

“I'm also interested in Marcus Dunham and Bob Algreen. They had big jobs, Sadie, a lot to lose. See if either or both have been rehired someplace else.”

“I'm on it,” Sadie said and hung up the phone.

Dirk looked over at Meg. Her face was pale, the stress beginning to take its toll. It wasn't supposed to bother him, not anymore. But he had known from the moment he had spotted her walking toward him at his house that what happened to her was going to take a toll on him, too.

Chapter Five

Meg glanced at the clock. It was after one in the morning. The coffeepot was empty again. She needed to brew another pot. She glanced at the sienna granite countertop in her all-stainless kitchen. A shiny black coffeemaker, a top-of-the-line Krups, sat on the counter above the dishwasher, but she couldn't find the energy to move in that direction.

Meg raked back her hair, stylishly cut into layers that usually floated around her face. At the moment the long, red strands hung as limp and lifeless as the rest of her felt.

She didn't need more caffeine. She was already shaky and exhausted to the bone. At the same time restless energy poured through her. Worry and fear for her son numbed her mind yet kept her nerves strung to the breaking point.

Her head jerked up at the sound of a cell phone ringing. She realized it was her dad's, saw him stand up from the breakfast table where he sat and pull it out of the pocket of his slacks. He said something she couldn't hear, hung up, and walked toward her across the kitchen.

“Who was it?” Meg asked, terrified the kidnappers had finally made a ransom call to her father.

“It was your mother. I called her before I left the office, told her I had a meeting that might run late in the evening. She figured I should have been home by now. She was worried something had happened to me on the freeway.”

“You need to go home, Dad. Either that or you have to tell Mom what's going on.”

Her father shook his head. “I won't do that. Once Charlie's safe, I'll tell her everything that's happened. Not now. Not when I know the awful distress it will cause her.”

In a way he was right. When the pressure of Edwin O'Brien's job as president of Burton-Reasoner had become too much for his wife to handle, Patsy O'Brien had come close to a nervous breakdown.

Her father had been frantic. He had stepped down immediately and her mother had recovered, but her dad had never forgotten the lesson. Since then, for him, family came first. That hadn't changed.

“Meg's right,” Dirk said as he strode into the kitchen. “If you're worried about your wife, you need to go to her, make sure she's okay. You know, there's always a chance these guys may try to contact you directly. It's not likely they'll call in the middle of the night, but we can't be completely sure.”

Tension seeped into her dad's thick shoulders. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“You need to be home if that happens. I'll be here with Meg, and so will Mrs. Wills. I'll be working on the computer, doing more digging. In the morning, if it looks clear, I'll talk to the neighbors, see if they noticed anything out of the ordinary in the last couple of days. I'll stay on this, Mr. O'Brien. I won't let up until Charlie comes home.”

Her dad released a slow breath. “All right. I'll go home. I'll make sure your mother is okay and be there in case these men call.” He looked over at Dirk. “But I expect you to keep me apprised of everything that happens.”

“You're an essential part of this, sir. Without your help, nothing is going to happen.”

“You were Meg's bodyguard. I expect you to protect her the way you did before.”

“You can count on that, sir.”

Meg's gaze swung to Dirk. He would be there for her, the way he was before. She had known she could count on Dirk. He was solid as a rock. Why hadn't she understood how important that was?

Meg walked her father to the door. He looked as haggard as she felt. She watched him all the way to his black Mercedes sedan, parked at the curb, watched him climb in and drive away.

As she closed the front door, she felt Dirk's presence behind her, turned to look into his hard, handsome face. Dear God, she had missed him. Until she'd seen him today, she hadn't realized just how much.

“You okay?” he asked.

She took a shaky breath. “I'm all right. What can I do to help?”

“Not much either of us can do till Luke gets back or we hear from Sadie. If you won't go upstairs, at least lie down on the sofa and get some rest. You won't do anyone any good if you're too exhausted to function.”

Meg thought of her son, forced herself to stay positive. “You really think it's Pam?”

“We'll know more when we hear from Luke.”

As if the mention of his name had brought his return, Luke walked silently into the living room. She hadn't heard a sound as he'd returned through the kitchen. She wondered how he could have gotten inside with the doors locked, then remembered the way Dirk had managed to get into her hotel suite unnoticed on the tour.

“The girl, Pamela, wasn't there,” Luke said. “I looked around inside. Looks like she packed up before she left.”

Meg made a sound in her throat. “You think she has Charlie?”

Luke shook his head. “I didn't see any sign of a kid. She didn't take everything, but some photos were gone from the wall, a few spaces looked empty on the dresser in the bedroom. I figure she's planning to take her share of the money and split, start over somewhere else.”

She could almost see Dirk's mind working. “They're sure they'll get away clean,” he said. “I don't like it. It's like they know something we don't.”

“Whatever it is, sooner or later, we'll figure it out.” Luke ambled over to the computer on the dining table, looked down, saw the photo of Pamela Vardon Dirk had pulled up on the screen.

“Beautiful girl. Too bad about the wrong turn she's made. She's gonna look real sweet to those big bull dykes down at the state correctional facility.”

Meg felt the blood drain from her face. Pam had always seemed like such a nice girl. She felt sick to her stomach.

Dirk must have noticed. He flashed Luke a look of warning and for the first time that night actually touched her. She felt the heat of his hand at her waist as he drew her against him. It was all Meg could do not to slide her arms around his neck, lean into him, and start to weep.

Dirk caught her chin and tipped it up, forcing her to look at him. “Hey. Pamela Vardon isn't your problem, okay? If she's involved, she'll get what she deserves. Right now the only person you need to worry about is your son.”

She bit her lip. “I liked her. I paid her more than I should have. I knew she worked two jobs. I wanted to help her.”

“Maybe she'll remember that. Maybe she'll take extra good care of Charlie, yeah?”

Meg swallowed, nodded. “Maybe it's good that Pamela is the one who's with him.”

“We can't be sure of that,” Luke reminded her. “But at this point it's a better than good possibility.”

“If we could find her,” Meg said, “maybe we could find Charlie.”

Dirk's head snapped up. “Christ, yes. Maybe we damned well could.”

* * *

Dirk turned away from Meg and strode over to where Luke stood next to the computer. “Dammit, I should have done this as soon as you got back.” Would have if he had kept his head on straight and wasn't worrying about Meg.

As he slid into the chair in front of the laptop, he looked over his shoulder at Luke, whose raised eyebrows said he was thinking the same thing. He needed to forget about Meg and do the job. He and Luke weren't brothers by blood, but they were just as close. Every time Luke glanced between him and Meg, his friend worried Dirk would let her back into his life, let her fuck with his head again.

She moved up beside him and his groin tightened as he recognized the faint floral scent of her perfume.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He forced himself to concentrate. “You've got Pam's phone number, right?”

“I've called often enough to know it by heart.”

“Good, what is it?”

“It's 555-761-4359.”

Dirk phoned Sadie. “The babysitter's on the move. I need you to ping a number, give me a location.” Dirk rattled off the number.

“Hang on, hot stuff. Let's see if we can find your girl.”

Dirk waited tensely, looked up to see the color back in Meg's face. He could read the tension in Luke's wide shoulders. It matched his own.

“Got her,” Sadie said into the phone. “House in Kirkland.” She gave him a number on 105th Avenue NE.

“That's the other side of the lake,” Dirk said. “I'm on my way. Listen, Sadie, it's getting late. Why don't you go home and get some sleep? This doesn't work out, we'll start again in the morning.”

“I think I'll just catch a nap here,” Sadie said. There was a sofa in the employee lounge the guys used when they were working a case and got in too late to head home. “Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks, sweetness; you're the best. I'll get back to you in the morning.”

“Sooner if you find the boy.”

“Will do.” The call ended and Dirk shoved up from the chair. “We've got her.” He repeated the street number on 105th Avenue in Kirkland. “That's nearly a thirty-minute drive from here.” Pulling his Browning nine mil out of the holster clipped beneath his work shirt, he dropped the magazine to check the load, then shoved it back in and reholstered the weapon. He glanced up at the sound of Luke's M9 Beretta sliding back into his shoulder holster.

“If she's with the boy, the kidnappers could be there,” Luke said. “You're going to need some backup.”

“Someone needs to stay with Meg.”

Meg shot him a look. “Luke doesn't need to stay with me because I'm not going to be here. I'm going with you.”

“Bullshit. It's too dangerous. You're staying right here in the house.”

“If my son is there, he might need me. I'm going, Dirk. I heard the address. If you won't take me, I'll go by myself. I'm going to be there—one way or another.”

Dirk started to argue, saw Luke's mouth edging up. His friend cast Meg a different sort of glance, one Dirk thought held a trace of respect.

“She's the boy's mother” was all Luke said.

“Fine. She can come, but she stays in the car.” He turned. “You don't get out no matter what happens. I don't care if you look up and see the goddamn sky falling down. You stay in the car till we come back. If Charlie's there, we'll bring him out to you.”

Her chin went up. “Fine.”

“No arguments. You do exactly what I tell you. Got it?”

“Yes. I've got it. I haven't forgotten how stubborn and overbearing you can be.”

“Oh, yeah?” Why that irritated him, Dirk couldn't say. “Is that what happened, Meg? I forced you into my bed?”

She flushed. “No. I didn't mean it that way. You know that isn't what happened.”

“You're right. It wasn't my bed we were in—it was yours.”

“Okay, you two,” Luke drawled. “You can punch it out later. We need to go.”

“Go get your jacket,” Dirk said to Meg. As she hurried toward the stairs, he caught the jar of greasepaint Luke tossed him and streaked black lines over his face. “I drove over in the Viper. Your car okay?”

“Sure. It's parked down the block. I'll pick you up.”

By the time Meg returned downstairs in a pair of black jeans, a puffy dark blue jacket over her sweatshirt, Dirk had left a note for Rose in case she woke up, snagged his black leather jacket out of the Viper, and strapped on the ankle gun he kept beneath the passenger seat.

Meg's eyes ran over his face, taking in the streaks of paint. “You really think they might be there?”

“They could be.”

“I don't want anything to happen to you. Maybe we should just call the police.”

He took hold of her hands. They felt icy cold. “We have no idea what we're going to find when we get to the house. Once you call the police, it can't be undone.”

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “You're right. Let's go get Charlie.”

Dirk nodded and led her toward the front door. When he opened it, Luke's battered, two-toned, black-and-tan Bronco idled at the curb, the engine growling like a predator.

“You sure we'll make it in that thing?” Meg asked as she hurried in front of him down the brick walk toward the curb.

For the first time in hours, Dirk grinned. “Luke's a bounty hunter. He does a lot of undercover work. Beat-up old Bronco blends in, goes unnoticed. But there's a Racing five-liter Aluminator XS Coyote engine under the hood. That's five hundred horses, honey. Got a Cobra Jet intake manifold and fully ported aluminum heads. She's a real beast. Luke calls her Lucky Lady.”

She tossed him a look. “I hope she's lucky tonight.”

Dirk's grin slid away as he jerked open the backseat door and Meg climbed into the SUV. “So do I, honey.” He slammed the door. “So do I.”

* * *

Meg sat stick straight in the backseat of Luke's high-powered Bronco. Besides the fancy engine, the car had a GPS navigation system built in below the dash. He had already punched in the Kirkland address where they hoped to find Charlie. Meg's heart squeezed at the thought.

“Buckle up,” Dirk commanded, riding shotgun next to Luke. Meg clicked her belt into place, heard two more buckles click, and leaned back to look out the window.

It was ink dark, only the pale light of a fingernail moon casting faint shadows over the landscape. At this hour the roads were mostly empty. She could hear the roar of the Bronco's powerful engine, feel its vibration. Thinking of the junk heap it looked like made her want to smile.

She didn't. Smiling would be a betrayal of Charlie.

Instead, she thought about the men she never would have met if it weren't for the murder of one of La Belle's top models. These tough, amazing men who were going after her son.