As soon as he determined this was indeed the master sergeant's final destination, he planned to make a quick trip to the nearest town to outfit himself properly for the climate. It wouldn't be long now before the opportunity arose to grab the woman and get out of here, but he needed appropriate supplies while he waited. He pulled the thin blanket he'd found in the trunk around him and turned the car on for a short while to use the heater. The thought of the master sergeant's face when he was relieved of his woman made Miguel smile. Soon, he promised himself. It would be very soon now.
But when he turned off the car's engine to conserve his remaining petrol a moment later, the cold settled right back in his bones. And he knew it couldn't be soon enough. For if he didn't make his move before long, he was likely to freeze his buttocks off in this unaccustomed, inhospitable climate.
Zach felt as if he'd taken a direct hit to the gut, and he stared at the stylish matron in front of him. "Kidnapped?"
The young man who'd greeted them at the door with the shotgun stepped forward, sliding a supporting arm around the older woman's shoulders. He flipped his shiny brown hair off his brow with a toss of his head that had the unconscious look of habit. "That was the reason for this," he said, giving the now empty gun in his hand a small heft. "When you showed up practically on the heels of the note we received, we thought you must be them. I'm Richard Beaumont," he added, thrusting out his hand. "David's cousin. And this is David's mother, Maureen."
Two other women and a man came out of a connecting room to join them in the foyer, and Richard introduced them as his sisters Cassidy and Jessica, and Jessica's husband Christopher.
Zach filed away his impression of a flashy brunette, a plain brunette, and a guy who could've stepped off the pages of Gentleman's Quarterly to be examined later as Mrs. Beaumont said, "David called us several days ago. He said he'd met his future wife in California and was bringing her home to meet us. It seemed so sudden—we were concerned she'd turn out to be one of those awful, flashy, starlet types, or a golddigger who'd latched on to him for his money." Then, obviously recalling the female in question was Zach's sister, color flooded the older woman's face.
Lily's abrupt whoop of laughter echoed in the pocket of silence that followed, and shock rippled through the assembled group as everyone turned to look at her. Even after two solid days of travel, with most of her makeup worn off and her hair tousled and slightly flattened on one side, she still had that last-of-the-red-hot mamas look about her, and it occurred to Zach that she probably appeared to be the exact type the Beaumonts had feared his sister would be. As it was, Mrs. Beaumont regarded Lily as if she'd stepped directly out of Bimbo Central Casting, and if his stomach hadn't been tied up in about ten kinds of knots, he might have gotten a real kick out of her predicament.
It was just as well he was in no mood, however, for it would have been premature anyway. Aside from that one brief moment this afternoon, he'd never seen Lily at a loss for words, and she wasn't now. She directed a gentle smile at David's mother
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "That was terribly inappropriate, and I'm not making light of the situation. It's just that Zach spent the entire drive from California fearing the exact same thing—that David was after his sister's money," she clarified when the older woman just stared at her blankly. "Glynnis is about to come into a considerable fortune of her own."
Mrs. Beaumont blinked. "Oh," she said. Then she turned pale. "Oh, dear. I wonder if the people who have them know that. You can't stay here," she said in a sudden panic, turning to Zach. She made agitated shooing motions with her hands. "You have to leave."
Zach focused the full force of his attention on her. "I'm not going anywhere until I find my sister, ma'am," he informed her levelly. He'd camp out on her lawn if he had to.
"You must!" She looked beside herself with fear as she stared up at him. "They'll think we called you. and they said not to call the police if we want to see David again. What if they're watching the house? If they see you. they'll think we ignored their warning.
Not about to be run off before he knew the entire story—and probably not even then, since after one look at this crew he'd decided he was the best candidate for getting Glynnis and David back in one piece—Zach took Mrs. Beaumont's restless hands between his own and stroked his thumbs over them as he said slowly and calmly, "That kind of threat is a common ploy intended to keep the victim off kilter, ma'am. Extortionists count on your emotions clouding your ability to reason, but it's important that you use this time to think as rationally as you can. For instance, take a good, hard look at Lily. Can you honestly imagine anyone ever confusing her for a cop?"
Too late, he remembered Lily's level-eyed way of meeting even the most disapproving scrutiny head on. But she played along as if she knew just how much he needed to stay here in order to exert some control over the situation. With every eye in the house turned on her, she stood with one hip cocked, studying her manicure as if she were alone in the foyer. Her jaw moved subtly, and if he hadn't known better he would have sworn she was chewing gum.
When Zach saw Mrs. Beaumont relax marginally, he eased out a breath, and said, "I need you to tell me exactly what led you to believe your son and Glynnis were abducted."
"We received a note about twenty minutes before you showed up." She hesitated, then gestured toward the room the others had come out of a moment ago. "Let's go in the parlor."
The entire gathering trooped into a large room with a set of French doors and two windows that undoubtedly looked out over the water, although at the moment it was too dark to see beyond a grouping of wicker chairs out on the lighted veranda. The top third of the windows was comprised of leaded, beveled glass, lending them a richness that was echoed in the cool, sage-green, silk-covered walls. By contrast, the room's couch, loveseat, and chairs were mostly homey overstuffed pieces upholstered in unbleached canvas and hunter green chintz. A fire crackled cozily in the stone fireplace on the north wall.
Mrs. Beaumont gestured for them to take a seat, but Zach remained standing. What he really wanted was to pace, but he stood at-ease as she turned to her nephew
"Show him the note, Richard "
Richard went to a built-in cupboard where he retrieved a piece of paper. He brought it over to Zach.
Looking down at it, Zach realized that until this moment, he hadn't fully believed in the Beaumonts' claim. In a far-flung corner of his mind he must have hoped they'd misunderstood or had somehow panicked over nothing. But this single sheet of paper with its three sentences formed of letters cut from magazines disabused him of the notion.
It was brief and to the point.
WE HAVE YOUR SON. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HIM AND HIS GIRLFRIEND AGAIN, YOU'LL AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS. CALL THE COPS AND THEY'RE DEAD.
Over the years, Zach had been point man with his friend Cooper Blackstock on numerous recon missions involving kidnap victims. He understood the value of fear. But he learned now that the greasy slide in his gut that kept him alert and cautious wasn't nearly as easy to control when the hostages; under consideration included his baby sister. He sucked in quiet, even breaths to keep the feeling in check, and looked over at Maureen Beaumont, who was perched on the edge of a loveseat.