Born To Be Wild (13 page)

“Zia is doing that now. Wait, here she is.” The sound was muffled for a moment, then Seth came back on line. “Well, that’s it, then. Ivy is gone, so he must have taken a ride. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks for calling.”

Even so, Micah’s gut didn’t settle. Something felt off.

“So your grandfather is all right?”

“Presumably.” Micah tried to convince himself that Seth’s call was a false alarm as he started looking through the binder. “Gramps went for a ride after breakfast without telling anyone.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s just hope he didn’t go looking for Lucy on his own.”

But he didn’t have time to figure out what Gramps could be up to. Where would Gramps have gone to look for Lucy, anyway? He’d probably just gotten an early start on chores. That had to be it.

Micah got to work, scanning the first few stories, then got to one that made him grin despite everything. “I thought you were a serious news photographer.”

Her head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

“The Cerillos Road Ladies Club luncheon?” He couldn’t imagine her enjoying that assignment.

“Yeah, well, I’m the only female photographer, so I get all the fluff pieces.”

“Your favorites,” he teased.

“Right.”

Isabel laughed, and they shared a moment of silliness before they both went back to work.

The next several stories Micah checked out were city-related. A fire. A Native American protest in Santa Fe Plaza. A jewelry store break-in.

A few more fluff pieces and then…

A shard of pain cut through him as he stared at reminders of the bus accident that could have taken Lucy away from them forever. How had Isabel done it? He recognized the brilliance of her work in photos of a child’s frightened face pressed to a window and the discarded book bag next to the wreckage. She’d poured all her own fears into the haunting images she’d captured.

Then he came to a shot that made him freeze in trepidation. “My God. Here it is!”

“What? You found something?”

“Yeah. In your photographs of the bus accident.”

“I was shooting before I knew it was Lucy’s bus, Micah. When I realized Lucy was trapped inside, I literally thought my heart would stop.”

Her voice wavered on the last. They hadn’t talked about it before, because she’d done her best to avoid him, even then. Their conversations had been reserved, all about Lucy’s recovery, not about Isabel’s feelings.

“Come look at this,” he urged.

Isabel rose from the desk and went around behind him.

He tapped one of the several shots that had gone to press. “A black vehicle like the one Sam Donovan described that took her from the school. Look at the fender. It’s a Hispanic cross decal.”

She gasped softly. “You’re right.”

“Why would it be here, at the bus accident?”

She studied the print. “I have no idea. The driver knew someone involved, maybe?”

“Like a parent?” The rightness of the guess hit him squarely in the chest.
Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
“What happened to the kids who were seriously hurt? A couple of them died, right?”

Isabel’s lips curved downward. “Two. A boy and a girl. The girl was Anita Perez. She was Lucy’s seatmate, Annie. Max Baca was the boy. A third child, Grace White, the little girl who sat in back of Lucy, is still in a coma. They don’t know if she’ll ever recover.”

When your kid was hurt, that was bad enough. Micah had gone crazy on the drive to the hospital. Every horrible possibility had gone through his head until he’d seen Lucy in person. Had seen that she was okay. The anticipation had been unbearable. The relief equally incredible.

But what if a parent
didn’t
get that relief?

He met her gaze. “What if one of their parents was so grief-stricken by the loss of her child that she—or he—couldn’t come to terms with it?”

“What are you saying?” Her voice grew strained. “That the mother or father took Lucy because she survived the accident and their child didn’t? But… You can’t replace one child with another.”

“You can if you think she’s
your
child.”

“So you make her call her real mother Ms. Falcon…” Dismay crumped Isabel’s features. She whispered, “Can someone really be that confused?”

“Look at Lucy,” Micah said. “She’s still not okay after what happened, and she came away with nothing but cuts and bruises.”

“You know it was more than that, Micah.”

“Right. Lucy went through a horrible emotional trauma. Which makes me believe a mother who lost her child would be so grief-stricken she might not know what she was doing.”

“I would be grief-stricken, but I would never—”

“You can’t know that. Not for sure. Besides, you can’t make comparisons, Isabel. You don’t know all of the circumstances. The person who took Lucy might not have your inner strength.”

Isabel gasped. “Her notes! Lucy really
was
giving us clues, Micah. Both notes mentioned the accident. She made sure to tell us she wasn’t hurt like she was hurt in the accident. She was trying to get us to make that connection!”

“She’s a smart girl, your daughter, Isabel.”

The coil in his chest loosened. Micah believed that Lucy really was okay as she said in her note.

So far.

Now they had to figure out who took her…and get their daughter back.

Because with someone that unbalanced…what would happen to Lucy when that person suddenly realized she wasn’t really their child?

…

Lucy finally figured out he wasn’t crazy.

He was broken inside.

Broken…broken…broken…

She’d figured it out after seeing the photograph on his fireplace mantel when he’d finally let her out of that bedroom to come downstairs for a meal. She knew he’d be mad, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from crying and begging him to let her go home. But he’d surprised her. He’d put his arms around her to comfort her, and had dried her tears. He’d assured her in Spanish that she was safe now, and that no one would ever hurt her again. That she was home. That he would protect her always.

Poppi had insisted on speaking to her in Spanish from before she could talk. She’d been bilingual before she knew what that meant. So she had understood every word that Mr. Perez had said to her.

She knew who he was now, because of the photograph of him with Annie Perez, the girl she hadn’t been able to save in the bus accident. He had to be Annie’s dad.

She guessed he felt like
her
inside, only a lot worse. Mixed up. Hurting. And awful. And that’s what had made him kidnap her.

He was confused, not really a bad man. Not like he wanted to hurt her, or anything.

She was still scared, though not as much.

But she knew by kidnapping her Mr. Perez had committed a serious crime. He was in big trouble. He couldn’t keep her. She wasn’t his kid. She wanted her Mom. And Daddy.

What was she going to do?

In her last note, she’d told Mom not to involve the police. She’d seen enough TV to know they might just shoot him. Then he would be dead like his daughter, and like his wife who’d died of cancer the year before. Annie had talked about her mom as though she was still alive sometimes, and Lucy had always gone along with it. That’s what Annie had needed to do to make her feel all right, for at least a little while.

And taking
her
is what Mr. Perez had needed to do.

He was so sad he needed to pretend she was his daughter. His Annie. She was going along with it for now so he wouldn’t get mad and scary again. But she
wasn’t
Annie, and she wanted her own parents. She had to find some way to get back to them.

Mr. Perez smiled down at her. “Annie, I know you were disappointed not to go to school today, but you are still recovering from the accident. And I think I know what we need to do to make you feel better.”

“What, Papa?” Annie had called him Papa, so Lucy had started calling him Papa, too. It kept him calm.

“I promised you a few days camping at Bandelier National Monument, remember? I believe today is the day we’ll set off for our little vacation.”

Lucy’s pulse skittered, and she tried not to panic. Why was he taking her away? “That s-sounds like fun, Papa. But you know I need my cell phone. In case I get lost.”

“All in time,
querida
. When we go on the trails, of course you may have it in case we are separated.”

Relief poured through her. That’s when she would find a way to call Mom and tell her where she was. That’s where she could get away from Mr. Perez.

But…what would he do when she ran away? Or if someone tried to take her from him? Would he hurt her?

No. He wasn’t dangerous. He was just broken inside. Right?

Broken…broken…broken…

Images of blood oozing between her fingers clouded her thoughts for a moment and made her stomach hurt, but she pushed them away.

She didn’t know how to fix Mr. Perez, but she didn’t want anything terrible to happen to him. She hadn’t been able to save Annie, but maybe she could help her dad. Though, how, she didn’t know.

She only knew she had to get away from him first. Had to get to her real parents.

Mom and Daddy…they would figure out a way to help him…

Chapter Thirteen

Isabel hoped they weren’t heading down another wrong path again by thinking the kidnapper was really one of the bereaved parents. But considering the circumstances—no ransom, no threats, no reason to think it was Bobby any more—it just seemed so logical.

Her pity for another parent only went so far. Her child was still at risk.

And since they were about to find the bereaved parents—specifically, the one who drove the black sedan with a cross decal—she decided to be cautious and arm herself. Just in case. Not that she’d ever had to use her knife on anyone. But there was a first time for everything. Better to be prepared. Being armed made her feel like she had more control, when in reality, she knew in this situation, thinking she had control was just a comforting illusion.

While Micah made a call to his brother, Isabel waited at the front door. She glanced out a window and saw a dark SUV sitting at the curb. Who did that belong to? Someone looking for her? Houses were spread pretty far apart here, so it was unlikely that it was someone visiting a neighbor.

About to go out and check, she stopped, hand on the doorknob, when she heard Micah curse.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, walking back to the kitchen area where she’d left him.

Micah had gone pale, and he was leaning back against the sink looking stunned. “It’s Gramps.”

“He hasn’t shown up yet?” She hoped it wasn’t more serious. An uneasy feeling hit her. Micah’s grandfather was getting up in years.

“Not only has Gramps
not
shown up, but his horse has. Ivy came in a few minutes ago all lathered up. And Seth said she had blood on her. What the hell happened? Why did he ride out alone so early in the first place? Why didn’t he tell someone where he was going?”

“Blood?” The single word echoed in Isabel’s mind. “Do you think there’s a connection? Do you think he went out searching for Lucy and ran into trouble?” Had Lucy been there? Renewed fear sluiced through her.

“I don’t know.” Micah’s expression reflected his pain. “But I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Neither did she. “What can we do?”

“Seth is directing a search party now. Dad…Zia…the men… How could this happen
now
of all times, when I can’t help find my grandfather?”

Micah looked utterly miserable. And angry. And Isabel wanted in the worst way to comfort him. She tentatively touched his arm and then simply slid her arms around his neck. For a second, he seemed too surprised to react, but he quickly pulled her tight against him.

“They’ll find Caleb,” she murmured. “They will. And we’ll find Lucy. It’ll be all right. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

She imagined him thinking the same mantra as they clung to each other for a moment longer.

Then Micah let go, gave her what passed for a smile and said, “C’mon.”

Isabel led the way out of the house. When she got to the curb she realized the only vehicle parked there was Micah’s truck. No more dark SUV.

Micah opened the passenger door and helped her in before going around to the driver’s side. “You have the photo, right?”

“In my shoulder bag.”

She’d printed the photograph of the black car with the cross decal from the bus accident. Unfortunately, the plates weren’t visible. If they had been, she would have thought about going to Detective Ochoa, though she knew Micah wouldn’t agree. He now feared police action might hurt Lucy’s situation rather than help. He might be right. A grieving parent who took another’s child wasn’t in his or her right mind. Who knew what could happen if the police overreacted or went in too strong?

Their first stop was Lucy’s school. It was lunchtime and the playground was filled with running kids, their happy shrieks cutting through Isabel. Her daughter should be out there, playing with her friends. Soon, she told herself. Soon things would be back to normal.

They went straight to Principal Rivera’s office.

“How are you holding up?” Standing behind her desk, Principal Rivera indicated they should take the seats on the other side. “Is there any news about Lucy?”

“Afraid not,” Micah said. “But we have some hope. Sam Donovan described the car he saw Lucy being driven off in.”

“Yes, his mother called to tell me. She was very concerned for you both. And for Lucy, of course.”

Isabel took the photograph from her bag and handed it to the principal. “This is the car. Do you know whose it is?”

Principal Rivera put on her glasses and took a long look before shaking her head. “It looks familiar, but I can’t place the owner.” She removed her glasses and set them on the desk.

Micah said, “We have a theory about the owner and about the real victims of that crash. The two kids who died and the one in a coma.”

The principal’s eyes widened. “How do you see the connection to your daughter’s kidnapping?”

“This photo was taken at the bus accident. After realizing this was the same car Sam described,” Isabel said, “we wondered why it was also there, at the scene of the accident. It seemed logical that a parent had come for his or her child.”

“Whoever is holding Lucy has delivered two notes from her assuring us she is all right, and is being well cared for,” Micah added. “In both notes she mentioned the accident, like she wanted us to think about that specifically. So I had to wonder why someone would take her, but then treat her so well. Good food. New clothes. What if it was someone so devastated by the loss caused by that accident, that he or she took Lucy as a replacement for their own child? Two children died and one is in a coma. We think it’s one of those parents.”

Principal Rivera sat back in her chair and absorbed the idea for a moment before asking, “What does Detective Ochoa think of this theory?”

“We haven’t told him yet,” Micah said.

“I don’t understand.”

“If we’re correct,” Isabel said, “we don’t want anything happening to Lucy. Obviously this person is disturbed. Desperate. Seeing police…guns…might set the kidnapper off, and it might be Lucy who gets hurt.”

“So what can I do?”

“We need names and numbers of the parents of the three children.” Isabel hoped the woman would accede this time. “Please. Our daughter has been gone for two days. You have to help us.”

“I would like to, but I’m afraid I’m just not allowed to give out private information on our students. It’s a matter of safety and liability.”

Isabel shouldn’t be so stunned that the principal still wouldn’t help them. “But we’re so close! Surely there has to be a way.”

“Yes, call Detective Ochoa and let him handle this legally, with a court order. I’ll have the information ready for him.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll call him.” Micah put a hand on Isabel’s back and indicated she should get up to leave now. “Then he can get the records from you. Sorry we bothered you, ma’am.”

Isabel was sorry, too, for thinking the principal would break protocol. Though she wanted to scream, she somehow kept it together as Micah escorted her through the school.

Once outside, she asked, “Are you really going to call Ochoa?”

“No, I just said that to placate her. If I didn’t agree to it, then she would have done so.”

“Maybe that
is
what we should do.”

“If we’re right about this, the kidnapper is out of his mind with grief, Isabel. I’m just thinking with my gut, because I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“What are we supposed to do now? Go through the Santa Fe directory for Bacas and Whites and Perezes? There are bound to be pages of all three names in this town.”

“We’re going to go find Tim Whitley. Maybe he’ll recognize the car in the photograph.”

The man whose license plates had been switched. She prayed he would know the owner as they got back in Micah’s truck.

They were running out of time.

There had to be a reason for that 48-hour rule.

Micah wheeled the pickup out of the lot, and she caught a glimpse of a dark SUV sitting at the curb. Could it be the same vehicle she’d seen outside her house? She tried to get a look at it using her side-view mirror, but they were going too fast. She turned around for a better look, but a silver Chevy was right behind them.

“Did you see a dark SUV?” she asked Micah.

“Nope. Why do you ask?”

“There was one outside the school just now…it looked just like an SUV that was parked in front of the house this morning.”

Micah frowned and checked his mirrors. “Not there now. I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

One last look at the traffic and she settled back and tried to center herself as Micah drove to Whitley’s place. Hopefully, with the man’s cooperation, they would be able to figure out who switched license plates with him.

And, therefore, who took Lucy.

That it might be a bereaved parent of one of the accident victims was making more and more sense. Isabel had nearly lost her mind when she couldn’t find her child, even before she knew Lucy had been kidnapped. She couldn’t imagine what those parents had gone through. But that didn’t make it okay to kidnap someone else’s child. A little part of her hated the fact that the person would have to suffer even more, but there was no easy way out of this nightmare situation. Whoever had taken her daughter needed to be locked up. At least until they were no longer a danger to society. Or themselves.

Halfway to Whitley’s place, Micah pulled into a restaurant parking lot.

Shocked that he would stop anywhere, Isabel asked, “What are you doing?”

“We have plenty of time. Whitley’s at work, Isabel, and we don’t know where that is. So we’re better off here than sitting in front of his place waiting in the truck. Besides, I need to check on Gramps again.”

Hearing the worry in his voice, Isabel didn’t argue. Micah must be going crazy with two people he loved missing.

She checked her watch. Nearly 48 hours now.

Would she ever see her child again?

…

Micah was relieved that Isabel followed him inside the restaurant without arguing. The place was busy but not full. The restaurant was seriously old-school. Linoleum on the floors. Laminate and chrome tables popular a half century ago. Neon signs on the walls.

Isabel was quiet except for ordering a BLT and a soda. Micah needed more, so he ordered a half-pound burger. And then, throat thick at what he might learn, he pulled out his cell and called his brother.

“Hey, Micah.” Answering on the first ring, Seth didn’t sound like himself.

Micah asked, “What about Gramps?”

“We still haven’t found him. Zia tracked him…to Suicide Hill.”

Their little sister had learned to track, among other survival talents, from an uncle in the pueblo.

“What the hell would he have been doing up on Suicide Hill?” His agitation brought Isabel’s concerned gaze his way.

“Gramps must have been meeting someone,” Seth said. “Zia followed Ivy’s tracks back into a stand of pines. There were hoofprints from another horse back there. Then the tracks went single file up to the road. Ivy came back home right from there. Without Gramps. Someone got him, Micah.”

“The bastard must have had a vehicle waiting. What happened to the other horse? Did Zia track him?”

“Yep. Found him, too. On Falcon land.”

Micah straightened. “Was it a Falcon horse?” He realized he now had Isabel’s rapt attention.

“He wore the brand.”

His voice tight, Micah asked, “Did you talk to Eduard or Cruz about it?”

“They say they know nothing. Zia believes them. Cruz, anyway.”

Of course, Zia’d want to believe anything Cruz told her, whether or not it was true.

Micah took a deep breath. “What now?”

“We’re up at Suicide Hill, waiting for the state police to show.”

“Okay, call me if anything new breaks.”

“Absolutely. What about Lucy?” Seth asked. “Anything?”

“Nothing definite. But Isabel and I have a theory we’ll be checking out.” He told Seth about the photo, about the possibility of the kidnapper being a grieving parent.

“Damn, if that’s true, how horrible for everyone. I’ll pass the word along.”

The moment Micah clicked off, Isabel said, “Don’t blame Poppi or Cruz. They wouldn’t do anything violent to your grandfather. You have to know that.”

Micah didn’t think Cruz would…but Eduard’s hatred for the Wilds seemed to have no bounds.

As if reading his silence, Isabel said, “Micah! They wouldn’t ever do anything to harm another person, and—”

He cut her off. “You’re right.” Damn the feud for making him even contemplate such a thing.

Every bad thing that had ever happened to him had somehow been linked back to whatever had gone down eons ago between Gramps and Hector. It had colored his whole life. Had made him doubt that the love of his own family could survive his love for Isabel. Had made him need his father’s approval before marrying her.

Micah had told Gramps he was determined to win back Isabel so the two of them and their daughter could be a family at last.

But it was moments like this made him wonder if that could ever happen.

…

Isabel was glad when they were out of the restaurant and back on the road. They couldn’t get to Tim Whitley’s place fast enough for her. Fortunately, Whitley was already home. Unfortunately, when he opened the front door, he didn’t look glad to see them. His face pinkened until it matched his sunburned scalp.

“What can I do for you two
this
time?” he asked.

“We’re still looking for our daughter,” Micah said, “and we have an idea of who took her.”

“Then what do you want with me?”

“We have three possible suspects,” Isabel explained. “Parents of Lucy’s schoolmates.”

Isabel told him about the school bus accident and pulled out the photograph of the car to show him. “I took this at the scene of the accident. It clearly shows a black sedan with a cross decal on the fender. This matches the description of the car a witness said took Lucy from the school grounds.”

Whitley took a good look at the photographed vehicle. “Looks familiar. Maybe if I had more to go on…”

“As far as we can figure, there are three possibilities,” Micah said. “The families of two children who lost their lives and a girl in a coma. The unconscious girl is Grace White. The two kids who died were Annie Perez and Max Baca. Are you familiar with any of those names?”