The Baby Thief Read online

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking that if I had a heart attack, you’d be able to save me.”

  “Don’t count on it. I plan to finish this run in two hours and that doesn’t leave any time for first aid along the way.”

  “Two hours? Get real. We have to slow down, or I’ll never make it.” Eric was already sucking wind.

  She slowed her pace a bit, and Eric was grateful. Even if he walked the thirteen miles, he’d have to wait a week to ask her out because he wouldn’t be able to move again for that long. He hadn’t done anything this foolish for a woman since high school when he’d stolen a bottle of Boones Farm apple wine from the corner store just because Cindy Miller really wanted some.

  After ten minutes, Eric experienced a strange floating sensation as if his body weighed only a few pounds and he could run forever. He took advantage of it while it lasted. Later he knew he wouldn’t be able to speak. “So what else do you do for fun?”

  “Skate, dance, ride my bike.” Jenna smiled. “Anything that keeps me moving.”

  “No, I mean for fun.”

  “Exercise is fun.”

  “No. Seriously. I’m talking about hobbies, like knitting or chess or watching old movies.”

  “I am serious. I don’t knit, play chess, or watch old movies. But I do like new movies, and I think I might like poker.” She didn’t even sound winded, as if running and talking at the same time were effortless.

  “This is disappointing,” Eric joked. “I was hoping we could get together, you know, do stuff, maybe even date.” He paused, waiting to see what she would say. Jenna didn’t respond, so he kept up his nervous chatter. “I’ve exercised more in the last twenty minutes than I normally do in a month. Except for softball season, which is over now.”

  “I play softball.”

  Eric grinned. “We have something in common.”

  He was grateful the bike path along the river was flat. The euphoria was gone, and his lungs and legs ached so badly he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from moaning. “How far have we gone?”

  “About three miles.”

  Eric cursed silently to himself. He hadn’t even made it halfway. Jenna would just have to like him the way he was—or not. This was torture and he couldn’t do it any more. Fortunately, the route crossed over the river at the last pedestrian bridge, then looped back. He could cut across before that and walk for a while, letting Jenna catch up with him for the last mile of the run.

  “How are you holding up?” Jenna finally asked.

  “I’m in agony, but you’re worth it.” Eric’s heart felt like it was going to explode. It was now or never. “Can I buy you dinner tonight? Restaurant of your choice?”

  She hesitated, then gave him a shy smile. “All right.”

  “Pick you up at seven?” Eric grabbed Jenna’s arm so she would look at him again. “I have to stop now. I’ll cross the bridge up here at the university and walk until you pick me on the other side. I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do.”

  She laughed. “I never thought you’d make it this far. It’s not particularly healthy to overdo it your first time.”

  “Now you tell me.” Eric stopped running. “See you in an hour.”

  Jenna waved and picked up her pace. Eric’s legs almost buckled in relief. He started up the path to the bridge, hoping he wouldn’t collapse. The hammering in his heart finally tapered off, but he felt lightheaded, almost giddy. It was either oxygen deprivation or love. Eric wasn’t sure, but he figured he’d have to get used to it either way.

  Jenna picked him up on the other side of the river, a mile from the park. The pain was worse the second time. Eric promised himself he would never run again. Knowing it would be over in ten minutes didn’t help. It seemed like an eternity before they crossed the finish line and someone called out “two hours, eight minutes.”

  “Sorry about slowing you down,” Eric gasped, fighting the urge to fall face first into the grass. Jenna was still moving, not running, but not stopping either. Eric hurried after her to catch what she was saying.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She looked relaxed for the first time that day. “Thanks for keeping me company. You’re a good sport.”

  “Can we stop any time soon?”

  “Go ahead. I need to keep moving for a minute.”

  “Why?”

  “So my legs don’t get cramps.”

  Eric didn’t care what happened to him. He had to stop. Involuntarily he bent over and sucked up air. When his heart rate stabilized, he began to walk slowly, looking around for Jenna. Runners and spectators were everywhere, stretching out, gulping down bottled water, taking pictures, and talking excitedly about their race time. Eric didn’t see Jenna anywhere, so he went to the registration booth and picked up his t-shirt. It was white with green trees, blue sky, and a rainbow. Typical Eugene life-is-a-picnic artwork. He’d never wear it.

  Eric walked down the bike path in the direction Jenna had gone, passing picnic tables and kids swinging in the playground. He didn’t see her and finally turned around. The path branched out all over the five-acre park, and she could have taken almost any route and circled back already. The crowd had thinned out by the time Eric got to the registration area. In a few seconds, he realized Jenna wasn’t there. Eric went to the booth, currently being dismantled by the woman with the bullhorn and two men in running gear.

  “Can you tell me if Jenna McClure picked up her t-shirt?” he asked.

  “Why?” The muscular woman eyed him suspiciously.

  “I just want to know if she already left, or if I should wait longer.”

  “Just a sec.” She picked up a clipboard and flipped through several pages. “Yep, she did.”

  “Thanks.” Puzzled, Eric headed for his car. It seemed strange Jenna would leave without saying anything, especially after making a date for that evening. Maybe they’d missed each other and she thought he’d left. Eric decided to call her when he got home, make sure everything was still set for that evening.

  Halfway to his car, he saw Jenna two blocks away, waiting at a bus stop. He paused, uncertain, then hurried toward her. She wasn’t close enough to hear him if he called out. Before Eric reached the first cross street, a big gray van stopped in front of the bus stop. A man in a suit, sporting a short ponytail, hopped out and spoke briefly to Jenna, then showed her a piece of paper. He moved beside her and put his arm around her waist. Eric couldn’t see Jenna’s expression, but her body seemed to go rigid.

  Eric started to run.

  A second man stepped out of the van just as Jenna relaxed. Eric shouted her name, but the three of them got into the vehicle and drove off. He stopped mid-stride and stared at the slowly disappearing back doors.

  What in the heck had just happened? If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Jenna had just been kidnapped.

  Chapter 7

  Saturday, Oct. 25, 1:07 p.m.

  Zeke glanced in the rear view mirror at the guy in blue sweats. He’d stopped running and stood staring after the van. Was he memorizing the license number? Fuck and doublefuck. Zeke pressed the gas pedal, then cut in front of a white sedan, blocking the plate from the guy’s view. Zeke hadn’t even seen the guy until he heard him shout at the woman. Did he know her or was he just some busybody passing by? Had he shouted her name? Shit. He hated not knowing, hated having to worry about the cops. It had looked like a perfect snatch. No struggle, no witnesses, no purse or coat or car left behind. Then, out of nowhere, this jogger comes running up the street.

  “Relax, Zeke. He was too far away to see us or the license number.”

  Carmichael’s voice cut into his thoughts. The Reverend sounded calm and confident as usual. Zeke eased up on the gas. It wouldn’t be smart to get stopped for speeding right now. Their passenger was unconscious and hidden from sight, but Zeke tended to sweat and stutter every time he talked to a cop. Or at least he used to. When he was a kid, before he took the long timeout, he’d been arrested so often he�
�d lost count. Only convicted twice, but brought in and harassed regularly because he couldn’t keep his cool when facing the pricks in uniform.

  Zeke couldn’t believe he’d let the Reverend talk him into this bullshit. If he got picked up for kidnapping… No. He couldn’t think like that. He wasn’t going back inside. Not after what happened last time. He’d rather be dead than on a bus heading for Pendleton State Penitentiary.

  But if he was careful, nothing bad would happen. He almost had enough money salted away now to move to Florida, live on a boat, and spend his days fishing. It was a dream that kept him going through a lot of dark days. And it was coming true thanks to the Reverend and his flaky little church. It wasn’t that Carmichael paid him enough to save any. He spent that little pittance going into town every once in a while. Zeke had embezzled sizable chunks of cash from the donations over the years, and Carmichael never knew. The man was a decent preacher, a great twat doctor, and quite the ladies’ man, but a real dingbat when it came to money. He’d put Zeke in charge of bookkeeping when they’d moved out to the compound so the Reverend could play God in his embryo lab. Zeke never had any formal training as an accountant, but compared to Carmichael, he was a natural. Other people’s money had always come easy to him.

  Zeke crossed the bridge into Springfield, wishing they were out of town already. He looked over at the Reverend, who seemed to be praying. Zeke wouldn’t be able to relax until they reached the compound. Life in the compound had been all right for the first few years. Nice, actually, compared to jail or the crappy foster homes he’d grown up in. The church women were not exactly his type with their baggy skirts and plain faces, but after doing without for thirteen years, pussy was pussy. And the isolation had kept him away from booze and out of jail. But now the boredom was wearing him down, making him have crazy thoughts about robbing the bar in Blue River just to feel the adrenaline rush. That kind of thinking could get him in trouble faster than anything. Except maybe kidnapping. This was serious shit.

  The Reverend had given him some song and dance about the woman’s rich parents and how they wanted her off heroin so badly they were willing to pay fifty thousand to have her picked up and forced into detox. The fifty grand had caught his interest. If he could filch the whole fifty, add it to the $46,932 he already had in the bank, he’d have enough to buy himself a nice boat. He could be in Florida before the Reverend even knew the money was gone. What could he do about it? Call the police? Zeke didn’t think so.

  Picking up this woman changed everything. She’d seen both of them. Even though Carmichael swore on his Bible that the drugs would mess up her memory, Zeke was skeptical. An eyewitness was a ticket to the slammer. He’d learned that the hard way. Zeke had never killed anybody during a robbery, but he wished he had. It would have saved him thirteen years of hell. He couldn’t let this witness walk away. The thought of killing her revolted him, but she was a threat to his freedom, the dream he’d worked and waited a lifetime for. There was no turning back. He’d already traded her life for fifty grand.

  * * *

  Drowning. She’d always known it would be the worst way to die. Exhausted, Jenna struggled against a ton of water that crushed and filled her lungs. The ache was unbearable. She was losing, she knew, fading in and out as her oxygen supply dwindled. Despite years of childhood lessons, she’d never been a good swimmer and had a tenacious dread of getting into water over her head. Now she was drowning, taking her last breath in black liquid hell. A soft light above the surface beckoned and she floated upward, no longer struggling, at peace with her destiny.

  For a few minutes, she floated in and out of consciousness, then finally opened her eyes and blinked at the hard metallic gray above her. The earth rolled and she braced herself to keep from falling. A sharp pain behind her eyes brought clarity. She was in the back of a moving van, not dead or drowned but alive and headed who knew where with a couple of psychopaths. For a moment Jenna longed for the serenity of darkness. Drowning was not so bad. Not compared to the images that popped into her mind with vivid, horrifying detail.

  She would be raped, tortured, and killed. Why else would they take her? There was no ransom money available, no political points to be gained. Jenna’s eyes darted around frantically, but her head, which seemed to be squeezed in a vice grip, would not move. Her heart and lungs kicked into gear, pumping oxygen to her paralyzed limbs. She cringed at the merciless hammering of her heart, hundreds of bruising blows against tender ribs. Small mewling sounds escaped her throat and hot tears built up behind her eyes. Jenna had read of people dying of fright, and now she understood. Her heart would soon explode from the pressure of being all worked up with nowhere to go.

  Jenna closed her eyes and thought of her mother, whose secrets she would never know, including the identity of the man who fathered her. There would be no future McClures to worry about the family tree and missing branches on one side.

  The sound of her own whimpering disgusted Jenna and she fought for control. She held her breath as long as she could, then let it out slowly. She repeated the action over and over until her heart slowed and she could think somewhat rationally. The drug they’d hit her with was still in her system and Jenna had trouble focusing. She tried to move her arms and legs but couldn’t. She pressed her head slightly forward and glanced down the length of her body. Completely covered with a brown plaid blanket, Jenna couldn’t tell if she was tightly restrained or paralyzed from the drug. She willed herself to be patient, to start with her fingers and wiggle them until they responded. She’d rather die trying to save her own life than give them the satisfaction of taking it from her.

  The tingling began in her lower left calf, just above an old tendon injury. Excited, she wiggled all her toes until the stinging sensation surged up through her quads. Her fingers and arms had been tingling for a few minutes, but Jenna hadn’t tried to use them yet. The pain she could handle. Discovering she was tightly bound would be devastating.

  She waited until her fingers felt almost normal, then began flexing them until they lost that stiff, first-thing-in-the-morning feel. She felt around and discovered she was strapped to a homemade plywood gurney. The three straps crisscrossing her body seemed designed to stabilize rather than restrain her, and they came unbuckled easily. She moved slowly under the blanket, afraid to attract the attention of her captors.

  She could hear their voices now that the buzzing in her head had cleared some. They were arguing in very controlled, almost deferential tones. A shiver ran up the back of her neck. Jenna recognized the voice of the man in the passenger seat as the one who’d shown her the map and asked for directions right before sticking her with something sharp. The driver, whom she’d barely seen before she blacked out, mumbled, “I really think you ought to get back there and secure the package.”

  “Relax, Zeke, the ketamine will keep her unconscious until we reach the compound and carry her down to the clinic.”

  Jenna scrunched forward as far as she could without lifting her head above the back seat and unbuckled the last strap. Pushing the blanket off, she scooted toward the back door. She knew it would be foolish to jump out while the van was cruising at what she guessed to be around fifty miles an hour, but she wanted to be ready. The route they were taking seemed to wind slowly uphill, and she hoped the van would slow down at some point for a sharp curve. Jenna suspected they were heading out Highway 126 toward Blue River, but they could have been on any one of a dozen back roads.

  “What could it hurt to spend a minute tying her hands together?” the driver argued. “Drugs don’t have the same effect on everybody. We’ve seen that enough times to know better.”

  The other man laughed. “I’ve never had to restrain a woman before. They usually do what I expect without argument, But I suppose you’re right. This one is different.”

  Jenna heard a soft crackle of plastic and the rustle of fabric on the move. He was coming. It was now or never. She grabbed the handle and leaned against the door.

&
nbsp; Nothing happened.

  Damn! It was locked. Jenna pushed to her knees and instantly felt dizzy. Groping blindly, she searched for the lock as the van braked and slowed for a sharp corner. She spotted a red strip near the handle and hoped it was the lock.

  Suddenly his hands were on her, pulling her back. Jenna struggled pointlessly for a moment, then lunged for the back door, pressing the red knob and the handle at the same time. The door popped opened just as the van curved sharply left. Jenna fell sideways and out the back, dragging the man, who still had a grip on her shirt, with her.

  The pavement jerked up and smashed into Jenna’s shoulder, an agonizing blow that left her blinking in and out of consciousness as she rolled off the road and into a drainage ditch. The chill of mountain water trickling under her back and the jagged four-inch rock pressing into her left buttock kept her from passing out. Slowly, Jenna shifted sideways. Her arms and legs were numb, and her shoulders felt as if they’d been nailed to the ground. Even the air she pulled into her lungs was heavy. The silence was overwhelming, as if time had stopped.

  Slowly, Jenna eased herself into a sitting position. The blood seemed to rush from her brain, and the trees above her swayed. She let her shoulders fall forward, easing the nausea for a moment. Then she opened her eyes and noticed the blood oozing from her black Lycra running pants, which were ripped open from her hip to her knee along one side. After a few deep breaths, Jenna pushed the material aside and examined the wound, relieved to discover it was only the worst case of road rash she’d ever had. Her shoulder felt dislocated, but her legs looked okay, no bones sticking out that she could see. Jenna looked up for the first time, blinking her eyes against the bright sun that had come out of nowhere while she was unconscious in the van.