Special Forces Father

chapter Eight



Kate had spent the morning reading the rest of the police reports and witness statements in the shoot-out at Paul Guillame’s house. In the afternoon, she’d interviewed both Stamps and Guillame. The interviews had been an exercise in futility. It was as though the two of them had made some kind of pact to say as little as possible about the shooting.

Stamps spent most of his interview swearing he didn’t remember anything after the shooting started. He acknowledged that the police had found gunshot residue on his hands and clothes and that a bullet from his gun had been removed from Paul Guillame’s left upper thigh. But according to Stamps, he didn’t even remember having the gun, although he did keep it in his glove compartment, since he never knew when he might be driving through rough neighborhoods. I like to visit the neighborhoods of all my constituents, he had told her. I feel it’s important for the people I represent to see me.

She’d thanked him for coming in, and when he was gone, she’d just stared at the bound notebook where she normally jotted her impressions when doing these types of interviews. She had no idea what to write down. It would be a bald-faced lie to say that Stamps appeared insane. Whether he had temporarily blacked out as he’d said he did once the shooting started, she couldn’t say for sure, but she knew she’d have a hard time maintaining her credibility with the District Attorney’s office if she found that he had definitely been temporarily insane when he’d shot Paul Guillame.

Then, Paul Guillame’s interview hadn’t gone any better. Guillame declared that Stamps had appeared glassy-eyed and confused when he’d taken the shot. “I could swear he wasn’t even looking at me,” Guillame had told her. He denied any recollection of Stamps yelling a discriminatory epithet at him at any time.

“You’d swear under oath that he wasn’t looking at you?” she’d asked.

“Well, maybe not under oath,” he’d prevaricated, “but he sure looked dazed and confused.”

Now, as Kate drove into her driveway, she was disappointed to see that Travis’s car was not there. She went inside and locked the door behind her, then set down the two grocery sacks she’d brought in with her. She’d decided to make Travis’s favorite, spaghetti, and a salad. He needed to put some meat back on his bones.

As she put the sauce on to cook and added basil, bay leaves, oregano, lots of garlic and olive oil, her eyes filled with tears. She and Travis had dreamed up this recipe in her dorm room in college, and cooked it in the microwave. She’d made it for Max and herself many times. Now as the sauce heated, the tangy smell nearly broke her heart.

* * *

PICKING UP THE SPOON, she stirred the sauce again and turned it down to low. Surely Travis wouldn’t be much longer getting home. She had already stored the Parmesan cheese and a half gallon of milk in the refrigerator, then pulled the remaining item—a package of Oreo cookies—out of the grocery bag. She was determined to make Travis eat as much as he could hold.

Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it out of her purse and answered it without looking, thinking it was Travis, letting her know when he’d be there.

“Dr. Chalmet.” It was that voice. Kate’s pulse hammered.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly as her mind raced. Why wasn’t Travis here? How much longer would he be? He’d promised to be back before dark but this time of the year, it didn’t get completely dark until after eight o’clock.

She held the phone pressed tightly against her ear, listening for Max’s voice in the background, but she didn’t hear him. “I want to talk to my son,” she said.

“Oh, Doc, are you going to start with that again?” the kidnapper said. “I thought I told you, I will decide when you can talk to your little boy. Not you. If you’d just shut up and listen, you might get more of what you want than if you persist in hounding me about talking to the kid. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Good. Now listen to me.”

She waited.

“Are you listening?” he snapped.

“Yes,” she said, suppressing the urge to say yes, sir sarcastically.

“Good. I’m a real good researcher, Doc. Real good. Do you want to know what I found out today?”

Kate’s teeth were still gritted, so tightly her temple was beginning to pound. “Yes, please,” she said.

The kidnapper laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Okay then, since you’re being so polite.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I know who the kid’s daddy is.”

“What?” she said, startled. “What do you mean?” It was a stupid response, but right now her thoughts were spinning around in her head so fast it was making her dizzy. She couldn’t keep up with most of them, they were spinning so fast. But every once in a while an actual phrase or question materialized.

How had he found out? Nobody knew, right? Who did he think was Max’s dad? Why did it matter? What would she say if he were right?

“Travis,” she mouthed silently. Where are you?

“What do you think I mean, Doc? I mean I know who the kid’s father is. Don’t you want me to tell you?”

Kate’s stomach churned with apprehension. He was leading up to something—but what?

Travis, help. I need you.

“Okay,” the kidnapper said. “I’ll take your silence as a yes. Your son is—a Delancey.” He announced it with the intonation of a game show host saying And the answer is—

Kate dropped onto one of the counter stools as though a thousand-pound weight had been dropped on her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Every effort to pull air into her lungs made her chest ache and tighten even more. “I don’t understand.” It was all she could think of to say. And saying it used up every last tiny breath of air in her lungs. She held the phone away from her mouth and took a deep, openmouthed inhale.

“Doc? You okay?” the man asked, with what sounded like a grin in his voice. “Did I surprise you?”

For a moment Kate couldn’t speak. She didn’t think she had enough air. She just sat there, her palm splayed across her chest, and tried to take long, slow breaths. As a psychiatrist, she knew what was happening to her. She was on the verge of hyperventilating. If she didn’t get it under control, she’d be gasping and heaving for air. She didn’t want to have to breathe into a paper bag or into her cupped hands. She wanted to be able to talk to this awful man—find out why he was telling her this and what he was going to do.

“N-no,” she stammered—not a complete lie. She’d been afraid he’d really known. It was useless to question how he’d found out. Useless to worry about what he planned to do with the information.

“That’s what I thought. Well, I must congratulate you on having managed to have a Delancey kid. I didn’t know much about the Delanceys before, but now I do. Very impressive. I wonder how much the kid’s grandparents would be willing to cough up to save their first grandbaby. Yep, I know that, too. Little Max is the first great-grandchild of Con Delancey, right?” He laughed. “Or maybe I should say the first one anybody knows about.”



Kate didn’t hear anything after cough up to save their first grandbaby. Her hand moved from her chest to cover her open mouth, just in time to stop the scream that was crawling its way up her throat. Oh, no, please. No, no, no.

“Apparently you’re speechless, eh, Doc? That’s okay. You need time to process what I’ve told you. Time to calm down. No sense in making you talk to the kid right now. It would just upset both of you.”

“No-o-o,” she sobbed. “Please, let me ta-talk to him.”

“Nah,” the kidnapper said. “I can’t stand to listen to the little brat cry.”

“Please,” she whispered.

“But I tell you what. You let your baby-daddy know what I know, and we’ll all have a great little conversation soon, ’kay?”

“Wait!” she cried. “Wait, please.”

She heard a sigh. “What? I’m not letting you talk to your kid.”

“Please, don’t call the Delanceys. Give me some time. I can get money. I can pay you. Just please don’t call them.”

“And what’s going to convince me that you have the kind of money the Delanceys have?” he asked.

“I don’t. But—” How could she convince him? Maybe the same thing that made her not want the Delanceys involved would make sense to him. “You don’t want to get mixed up with the Delanceys,” she said firmly. “Why do you think I’ve tried to keep my son’s father a secret all this time, when I could go to them and probably not have to work another day in my life?”

“I don’t know. You love your job?” The kidnapper was obviously getting impatient with her.

“Because their influence spreads all over this state. You don’t want them onto you, I can promise you that. There are at least four policemen in the immediate family, plus a prosecutor, plus a very dangerous private investigator. Not to mention an army Special Forces operative. How many of those do you want on your trail?”

There was a pause. “How do I know they’re not already?”

“You don’t. You’re just going to have to trust me, like I’m offering to trust you.”

“All right. What’s your proposal, and more important, how much money can you get me?”

Kate tried to think fast. She knew how much money she had, down to the penny, and it wasn’t going to be enough to tempt this man. A small inheritance from her parents plus the money she’d been saving for Max’s college fund would add up to $73,000. Not even a drop in the bucket, when measured next to the funds of the Delanceys.

“A quarter of a million,” she said as confidently as she could.

“Really,” he said, disbelievingly. “On your own, without the Delanceys, you’ve got two-hundred-and-fifty big ones?”

“I’ll need a day—maybe more, depending on the bank—but yes.” She heard a slight flutter in her voice. Dear God, she hoped the kidnapper hadn’t heard it.



“I don’t like it. How do I know you’re not just stalling me to give your boyfriend time to get his detective brother on my trail?”

“You don’t. Like I told you, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Yeah? Why? How’re you going to convince me to trust you?”

Kate took a halting, shaky breath. “Because you have the one thing in the world that I would give my life for,” she said. “You have my son.”

The phone clicked and went dead.

“No!” she cried, jerking the phone from her ear and looking at the display. “No, please!” But the call had been disconnected. After a couple tries, she pulled up the phone log and saw the same notation she’d seen every time she talked to the kidnapper. Private Number. She pressed Star-Six-Nine—nothing. She pressed Call—nothing. She clicked Edit, Store, every button she could find to press, except Delete, but nothing worked.

She slammed the phone down on the counter, then sat with her head in her hands.

What was she going to do now that the kidnapper knew that Max was a Delancey? If she thought her child was in danger before, it was nothing compared to now. Her heart felt as though the kidnapper had reached into her chest and ripped it out of her when he’d hung up.

She had no idea what he was going to do. Had he rejected her offer? Was he convinced he couldn’t trust her? But if he thought the Delanceys were already onto him, wouldn’t her plan still be better than him trying to get money out of them?

She turned her gaze up to the ceiling, wishing she could force an answer from heaven.

At that instant, she heard a key in the front door. It opened and Travis walked in.

“Wow!” he said, grinning. “It smells great in here. Spaghetti, right?”

* * *

WHEN HE LOOKED into Kate’s eyes, he stopped short. “Is everything okay?”

She pointed at the phone. “You wa-want to know who that was?” she said bitterly, not even trying to stop the tears that welled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks.



“Who?” Travis approached her gingerly.

“The kidnapper.”

Travis nodded. “I didn’t mean for you to have to talk to him by yourself. I’m sorry I didn’t make it home earlier. What did he say? Did you get to talk to Max?” He held out his arms.

She shook her head quickly, back and forth and back and forth. “No,” she said. “No. You stay away from me.”

“What happened? I don’t understand.”



“Really?” she said, still shaking her head. “You’re going to stand there and tell me you have no idea what you’ve done? My baby is in danger and it’s because of you.” She clenched her fists and worked very hard at channeling all her fear and despair and aching emptiness into anger at Travis. But it still hurt just as bad.

“Kate, tell me what he said.”

“You had to go and get involved, didn’t y-you?” she cried. “Had to get right in the m-middle of it and g-get your cousin involved.”

Travis regarded her with frank bewilderment and spread his hands. “I’m not sure what’s happening here. Why don’t we sit down on the couch and you can tell—”

“Don’t!” she cried. “Don’t patronize me. It’s you and your damn rich family. It’s always been my biggest fear. Why do you think I never went to your parents about Max? I never even told Cara Lynn, and she’s my best friend. And now—everything I feared has come true.” She blotted her face with the sleeve of her blouse. “He knows!”

Travis just stared at her.

“He—knows!” she screamed, pointing to the phone.

Then as calmly as she could, she said, “The kidnapper knows that Max is your child. He’s going to call your parents and see how much they’d pay to make sure their first great-grandchild is safe.”

Travis’s face twisted into a mask of horror as her words sank in. “Oh my God,” he muttered. “How did he find out?”

“You tell me,” she grated. “Maybe he saw you with Dawson.”

Travis shook his head. “No. He didn’t see us. Even if I didn’t notice him, Dawson would have.”

“Well, he found out somehow.”

Travis’s forehead creased in a frown. “Stamps or Whitley must have talked.”

“Stamps or Whitley? What are you talking about?” she asked. Stamps? She didn’t like the expression on Travis’s face any more than what he’d said. He looked chagrined and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. She saw his throat move as he swallowed.

“I—went to see Stamps yesterday, after I talked to Dawson. I figured he needed to know that we were onto him—”

“You went to see him?” The anger she’d been searching for earlier, that she’d hoped would sweep away the empty ache of missing her child, now began to burn through her. It didn’t get rid of the emptiness, but it felt good. “You went to see Senator Stamps. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Now, Kate—” Travis began.

“Stop talking!” she snapped, slicing a hand through the air. “Don’t even pretend you have an explanation for this.” She stepped over to the stove and turned off the spaghetti sauce, congratulating herself for having presence of mind enough to do that. She closed her eyes. As much as she wished she could depend on Travis, she knew from experience she couldn’t. She was the one who always handled things. So she would handle this, too. But she was going to need all the information she could get. With a huge sigh, she asked, “Who’s Whitley?”

“Congressman Gavin Whitley. He’s actually the one who hired the kidnapper. Dawson traced down the kidnapper’s phone number and found out where he bought it. I found that same number on Whitley’s phone. So now, with that information and using your phone, Dawson should be able to zero in on where they’re keeping Max.”

“Please, Travis. I don’t want you to do anything else. I don’t want Dawson to do anything else. I’m taking care of it, just like I always have. When you walked out on me in college. When I found myself pregnant with your child. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to get along without you.”

“Come on, Kate. You don’t have to—”

“I swear to you on your child’s life, if you don’t leave this alone right now, I will take Max and move away from here and you will never, ever find us. You will never see your child.” Kate felt sick, saying those words. It wasn’t what she wanted. It had never been her choice to raise her child alone. She’d always thought that one day he would come back and they would be a family.



But she knew now that her vision of them as a family was a pipe dream. The reality was what it had always been. Travis would walk away and Kate would handle it.

She lifted her chin and glared at him. “I don’t have much that’s mine. But Max is my son and this is my house. I want you to leave, now.”

Travis stared at Kate, trying to process everything she’d said. He knew how many times he’d let her down. But he wasn’t going to let her down this time. He wished there was a way to tell her that, to make her stop and look at him and see—not the boy he’d been, too angry and too immature to be responsible. But the man he’d become. Who knew how to channel his anger. Who knew what was worth living for—and even dying for. He’d sat in that filthy dark room where his enemy had kept him for five months, completely alone. He’d faced his shortcomings, his demons, his fears. And now, at last, he knew that only love could heal what was wrong with him. He hoped he wasn’t too late in recognizing it.

“Kate, don’t do this. We can get him back. I promise you.”

But her chin just went up another fraction of an inch and her glare never wavered.

He shook his head, held out a hand in supplication, then when she ignored it, let it drop to his side. Then he walked past her into their child’s room and threw his clothes into his duffel bag before hoisting it over his shoulder. When he came back into the living room, she was still standing in the same place, but her head was now bowed and her eyes were closed.

He walked past her to the front door, then turned around. “Kate, you’re telling me to leave, but I swear to you, I am not walking out on you.” She didn’t react. “Damn it, Kate. Look at me.”

Slowly she raised her head and met his gaze. Her face was awash with both a profound sadness and a steely determination.

“I am not walking out. I’ve got this phone, and you’ve got the number in yours. Call me and I promise I will be here before you hang up the phone. That is my solemn promise to you—on our son’s life.”

Travis didn’t miss the irony of declaring to Kate that he was not walking out on her in one breath and in the next, turning around and leaving. But he’d told her the truth. Even if she never wanted to lay eyes on him again, he was not going to leave her to face the kidnapper alone. He would be right here, watching her, making sure she was safe.

She had hit him where it hurt, with those comments about him walking out. He hadn’t realized until she’d said it, but that was exactly what he’d done—twice. He certainly had not forgotten the first time. She’d brought up marriage and he’d reacted with such immediate anger, he’d scared not only her, but himself. So he’d done what his older brother Lucas had hounded him about for years. How many times had Lucas said it? You ought to join the military, Trav. They’d whip that anger right out of you.

The army and later Special Forces had given him confidence, skills and a deep understanding of his physical, mental and emotional self. Above all, they’d taught him to channel his anger into a different, more helpful energy and to use that energy to maintain an ironclad control in order to beat every enemy. Lucas had been right.

Now he had to draw on every bit of that control to save his son and keep Kate safe, whether she wanted him to or not. He didn’t know what she was planning to do, but he did know that he wasn’t about to let her deal with the kidnapper alone.

Sitting in his car in front of her house, he dialed Dawson’s number. When Dawson answered, he said, “Have you got a vehicle I can borrow?”

“I’ve got several. What do you need it for?” As usual, Dawson was prepared for almost anything.

“I need something that won’t stand out in Kate’s neighborhood. I’m going to be watching her house. I’m afraid she’s made some kind of arrangement with the kidnapper.”

There was an almost undetectable pause on the other end of the call. Then Dawson said, “Sure. In the parking lot next to the warehouse where we met, there’s a late-model white van. There are various magnetic signs inside, along with a couple pairs of coveralls and a few other items. Use the large magnetic sign that says City of New Orleans. If you wear the white coverall, maybe a Saints baseball cap and sunglasses and carry a clipboard, you can hang around all day. If somebody asks you what you’re doing, tell them you’re assessing the need for house numbers on the curb in front of the houses.”

“Not bad,” Travis said. “It’ll take me a while to pick up those things.”

“No need. They’re in the van. The coverall fits me so it’ll be okay on you.”

“Great. Where are the keys?”

“Upstairs, in the cabinet over the microwave.”

“Thanks, Dawson.”



“No problem. Listen, we’re almost ready to make the call to the kidnapper. Dusty has altered the data that will be sent to the kidnapper’s phone so that he’ll think the call is from Whitley. But we’ll only have one chance, and it’ll be a slim one, because as soon as he realizes it’s not Whitley, he’ll hang up and won’t answer again. So we have to plan when we want to make the call. Dusty is tracking the GPS coordinates of the phone. As soon as he answers, she’ll triangulate the signal.”

“What do you think?” Travis asked. “Should we get the police involved?”

“Not officially. I’ll talk to Ryker and fill him in. See if he’ll work with us unofficially. Lucas already knows about the situation. He just doesn’t know you’re involved. With the two of them, we’ll have the city and the North Shore covered.”

“What about the locals?”

“So far we don’t know which local police department we’ll be dealing with. We’ll bring them in, but obviously it’ll be at the last second.”

“They’re not going to be happy,” Travis said.

Dawson nodded grimly. “No kidding. And once they know about the kidnapping—”

“It becomes their case and we have no more control.”

“Exactly.”

Travis sighed. “Kate’s going to hate me even more before this is all over.”

“That’ll be better than her being destroyed by grief, if she can’t save her child.”

* * *

TRAVIS WAS AT Kate’s house by eight o’clock the next morning. He was in Dawson’s van, dressed in the white coverall and ready to look busy and preoccupied as he studied his clipboard. When he turned onto her street, he saw the dark green sedan that belonged to the kidnapper.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. There was nothing he wanted more than to go drag the man out of his car by his collar, toss him onto the ground and stand on his neck until he revealed Max’s location. But Travis knew expert interrogation techniques from both sides—as a Special Forces operative and as a hostage. He knew that there was a very real chance that the man wouldn’t give up the information no matter what. There was also the risk of alerting his partner by preventing a phone call or some other prearranged signal.

No. Travis had to work slowly and methodically to be sure the kidnapper wasn’t alerted. The last thing they needed was for Max to be harmed or whisked away to another location. So he casually drove past the kidnapper’s car and stopped a dozen houses away near the end of the block. Travis wasn’t skilled at tailing, so he was going to have to be extremely careful as he followed Kate and the kidnapper.

It was eight-thirty before Kate came out of the house and locked the door. She didn’t pay any attention to the car with the real estate sign on its side, parked a few houses away from hers. She backed out of her driveway and drove off. The kidnapper pulled away from the curb and followed her.

Travis followed the green sedan at a safe distance. He expected Kate to drive to her office, but she didn’t. Instead, she led them to a bank and parked in its parking lot. Again, the green sedan parked half a block away and Travis drove on past and turned at the next light. He pulled into a small parking lot and quickly changed the magnetic sign from City of New Orleans to Upton Upholstery—Uptown Style for 15 Years. He slipped out of the coverall, took off the Saints cap but left his sunglasses on, then made the block and parked at a fast-food restaurant across the street from the bank. He walked into the restaurant and bought a burger and a soft drink and went back to the van to eat while he waited.

He knew what Kate was doing and he wasn’t happy about it. He’d done what he could to keep her from having to deal directly with the kidnapper, at the very least trying to be there when he called.

He couldn’t believe she had enough money to come close to tempting the kidnapper away from Travis’s wealthy family. Even on a psychiatrist’s earnings, there was little chance she could scrape up a decent fraction of what the kidnapper might demand from the Delanceys. What frightened him the most, though, was that the kidnapper would decide that two birds were better than one and he’d kidnap Kate, as well.

And he knew that for all his training and all his carefully honed restraint, he would kill the man if he hurt Kate or their son.

Kate was inside the bank for over two hours. Travis had moved from the fast-food parking lot to a side street a couple blocks away from the kidnapper where he couldn’t see the bank’s parking lot. When the kidnapper pulled away from the curb, Travis followed him. As soon as they came to a straightaway, he saw Kate’s car in front of the green sedan. She went directly from the bank to a credit union, where she only spent about forty-five minutes. Then she went directly to her office, oblivious to the two vehicles following her.

Once she walked inside her office building, the kidnapper, who’d been idling at the curb half a block away, pulled into the street and headed away. Travis started the van and followed him. He wasn’t sure if following the kidnapper was the best idea, especially in a decade-old minivan, but he couldn’t pass up the chance that the kidnapper might lead him to where he was keeping Max.

The kidnapper got on Interstate 10 and took the Airline Highway exit. He was heading to his hideout. Travis was sure of it. Now he had a decision to make. He was going to follow the man and he would find out where he was keeping Max. But what was he going to do then?

He knew how to move through deep forest or open desert nearly undetectably. With the proper equipment, he could pick locks and cut window glass without making a sound. But he held little hope that those skills would help him. Even if he could sneak into the place where they were holding Max, even if he could neutralize the kidnapper and his partner, how would he approach his son? To Max, he would be nothing more than another stranger.

Suddenly, the green sedan sped up, darting from one lane to another, avoiding cars. Travis’s pulse sped up. The kidnapper had spotted him. He gunned the van’s engine, but there was a dismaying lack of pickup. Still, he floored it. He wasn’t going to lose the kidnapper if he could help it. He watched the speedometer creep higher, too slowly, and listened to the van’s engine struggle. Ahead of him, the sedan was putting more and more distance between them. Airline Highway was a long, straight road, but as the sedan grew smaller and smaller, it became harder for Travis to keep his eye on it.

The van’s engine was straining. The speedometer appeared to be stalled at ninety. Travis focused on the road ahead, but now he couldn’t spot the dark green sedan at all. He didn’t give up, though. If he couldn’t see the sedan, he was certain the sedan couldn’t see him. So he kept driving, past Kenner, past the airport and farther, into LaPlace, then on until he saw the signs for the Maurepas Swamp. He slowed the van down and took the next exit.

Stopping on the side of the road, he slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Damn it!” he shouted, then pressed his palms against his eyes. He knew there was no way the van could have ever caught the sedan, but still he felt as though he’d failed his son. As though he’d failed Kate. All he could do now was head back. As he drove, he mentally cataloged each exit, and pinpointed the spot where he’d lost sight of the kidnapper’s car. He had driven almost thirty miles by the time he reached the swamp, where he decided it was useless to go farther. He doubted the hideout was in there, so it had to be one of the exits after the point where Travis had lost him.

He drove to the warehouse and parked the van, then went upstairs to use Dawson’s computer. Using Google Maps, he marked the exits that the kidnapper might have used, then forwarded a copy to Dawson and printed a copy for himself.

Within a couple minutes, Dawson called him. “So what am I looking at here?” he asked.

“I followed the kidnapper this afternoon. He went out Airline Highway. Of course I lost him around the Highway 51 exit, since his car was a whole lot faster than the van.”

“Did he get off at 51?”

“No. He was still going. That was the point at which I lost sight of him. I drove on until I entered the Maurepas Swamp, but after a few minutes of driving and not seeing a single side road, I figured if he was hiding in there, I’d never find him. I guess I could have gotten off at every exit and searched for his car, but that’d be like a needle in a haystack, so I thought it might be better to get this information to you.”

“I’m glad you did. Dusty’s almost ready to make the call. But we’ve got to get everything coordinated. We can’t afford to waste our only chance,” Dawson said. “We’ll coordinate from the warehouse.”

“Okay,” Travis said. “When?” He was ready, but he needed Kate to be involved. She was furious with him for going behind her back, but if she knew they were ready to close in on the kidnapper, she’d want to be there. She’d really hate him if they went in and she wasn’t there for Max.

“Preferably tonight. Then we can make our move at daylight tomorrow, hopefully while they’re still asleep.”

“You’re sure you can pinpoint the location that closely?”

“I hope so. I think your map is going to help, plus I’ve got my best agent, MacEllis Griffin, standing by in a helicopter.”

“A helicopter?”

“He’s going to do a flyover of the triangulated area and try to spot the sedan.”

Travis was impressed, although he should have known Dawson would think of everything.

“I need to let Kate know what we’re doing. I know she’ll want to be there for Max.”

Dawson paused for a split second. “Now, Travis, Ryker and Reilly are going to be handling the ambush and taking the kidnappers into custody. This is off the books, but Ryker is arranging to have a female officer there to take charge of Max.”

“That’s not going to work for Kate,” Travis said with a wry laugh.

“Well, how you handle Kate is up to you. And trust me, I understand completely about a woman who won’t sit by and let you do the rescuing. But we don’t know anything about this guy. I doubt Ryker is going to want either you or Kate on the scene.”



Travis thought maybe his cousin could convince Kate that she should wait until the danger was over, but he’d be damned if they kept him from being there. He might not be a cop, but he was probably better armed barehanded than they were with their weapons.

“Oh, and I heard from Lucas,” Dawson went on. “He got some information from his friend in Chicago. It seems that a woman named Shirley Hixon shares an address with an ex-cop named Bentley Woods. He was fired several years ago for taking bribes and protection money. Since then he’s been a suspect in a couple murders that seemed to be gun for hire, but in both cases the ID was weak, so they couldn’t prosecute. He said that Woods claims to be doing private-investigator work, but that word on the street is he’ll do just about anything if the price is right.”

“He sounds dangerous. I don’t like it.”

“We think the Hixon woman is taking care of your boy. She and Woods have shared the same address for nine years. If they’ve been doing kidnappings for hire for that long, I’m amazed they’ve never been caught.”

“Yeah, well, that’s going to change this time.”

He heard Dawson sigh through the phone. “Just don’t forget what I said. Ryker’s not going to want you there for the takedown.”

“Ryker and I will have to have a conversation about that,” Travis said.