Flee From Evil (26 page)

Cass shook her head and blinked several times. “Mom found a note at the house. It said they’ll return Sophie if I pay them two million dollars.” Her voice cracked at the last words.

Vince tensed. “Do you have two million dollars?” He wanted his daughter back. He was willing to pay any amount—that he could.

“No.” It was more sob than speech. “I barely have enough to buy groceries.”

He looked at the large, diamond ring on her finger, and wondered. She wouldn’t hold back, would she?

“They said they’ll contact us with details tomorrow morning at eight.”

His Sophie. He’d only known her a short time, and now someone had taken her away. He couldn’t form words, so he pulled Cassandra into him as she cried into his shirt.

“Let’s take you home. I want to see this note.”

~*~

Scriiiiitch.Scriiiiiiitch.

Hands propped Sophie’s limp body. Head heavy, lulling this way, then that.

Sleeeeeep. I just want to sleep. Please, let me sleep.

Sticky pressure around her head and over her eyes. Squeezing. Tight. She wanted to pull it away, but her arms felt like noodles. No control. Now they were being pressed together behind her back. Hard metal—like bracelets. But somehow not.

Scriiiiitch.Scriiiiitch. Large fingers around her ankles. More sticky squeezing them together. She couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. Sleep. That’s what she’d do. Sleep till this crazy nightmare disappeared.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Vince had read over that letter a thousand times. Good thing he’d suggested they put it and the envelope in two separate Ziploc bags. It would have been worn through otherwise. He wanted to make sure they preserved the evidence as best they could. That is, in case they decided to go to the police. But he suspected that idea carried even more risk. There were rumors of a cop on the take in the Water’s Edge department, who was feeding info to the local drug suppliers. That’s how the water channels remained active, and The Dock’s business lucrative. It would be very likely the kidnapper had connections there. They couldn’t chance it.

“Have you had anyone in the house who might know your comings and goings?” Vince readied a notebook to make lists of possibilities.

“Lots of people.” Cassandra sighed. “We had a bunch of men in, building the addition—painting, carpeting, moving.” She shook her head. “But that was weeks ago. None of them would have known to find us at the picnic today.”

“Unless they followed you.”

“Do you really believe the kidnapper hadn’t planned way ahead of time exactly where they’d take her?” Cassandra didn’t seem to. “The picnic was the perfect place.”

He couldn’t deny that. “Give me their names anyway.” He wrote them as she remembered. “Anyone else?”

“The behavioral therapist,” Greta called from the kitchen between grunts as she furiously scrubbed the linoleum from her hands and knees. Obviously her method of burning off angst.

Cassandra tilted her head and squinted. “Could she have …?” Her face mottled. “I might have told her about the picnic too.”

“What’s her name?”

Cassandra told him. He scribbled it on the page.

“But she doesn’t know I have connections to money. You know, my in-laws.” She shifted on the couch. “And she’s so sweet. Real good with Tibo.”

Vince’s gaze dropped to the large diamond on her finger. “I have a feeling more people in this town are aware of your in-laws than you realize.” He underlined the therapists name in his notes. “Anyone else?”

She leaned into the plush cushions of the couch. “Lots of church members came by to welcome us when we first moved back. Some I hadn’t known when I was a kid.” She shrugged. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s someone from church. Someone who’d planned to take her at the picnic just as we were planning the fun of it.”

Vince’s heart sank at the idea that one of his flock could do something so evil.

A grunt sounded from the kitchen. Greta appeared in the hall. “Well, I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ve already packed Tibo’s stuff to take him to my sister’s tomorrow.”

Vince hoped that would keep the boy safe, but he still worried.

“Thanks, Mom.”

It wasn’t until Greta had disappeared behind her bedroom door that Vince finally voiced their other option. “What about that ring on your finger?”

She covered the diamond as if to protect it from his suggestion.

“Maybe they’d take it as payment.”

She shook her head, lips trembling. “It’s not real. I sold the original stone Tim had given me to pay the debts after his death.”

Vince was fed up. How could this so-called husband be so unprepared? “You all talk about your late husband like he was some kind of saint, and yet he left you with debts and nothing to show for it but an over-priced car that doesn’t work, and threadbare finery.”

She glanced down at her high-end designer shorts. “Don’t you speak of my husband that way. He went to great personal risk to make sure I and my baby were cared for, when I felt too ashamed to go to anyone else.”

“Well, he sure knew how to make his wife grateful for the scraps he dropped.” Vince couldn’t relieve the frustration fast enough.

“How dare you.”

His teeth ground. “I just don’t understand how this man, who worked for his filthy rich family, left his wife and kids without a dime to their name.”

She didn’t say a word, but stared as if waiting for the pulsing in Vince’s ears to quiet so he could hear her whispered words. “You may recall, Sophie was not his.”

“Did he—?”

“No. He considered her as much his own as if he’d birthed her himself.” Cass closed her eyes. “But his parents never believed it. I can’t blame them for that. They were right.” Her lids lifted. “But Tim never confirmed it to them. They never truly accepted me or her into the family. And because of me, they took great pains to protect Tim from what they had perceived as a gold-digger.”

“How’d they do that?” Did he
really
want to know this story?

She sat up. “When Tim began to work for them, they gave him an entry-level position at very low pay. We didn’t care. We were prepared to live frugally. However, they never wanted Tim to be seen as cheap to their friends, so they gifted him houses and cars that they made payments on, and insisted Sophie and Tibo had a high-priced education and wore the finest clothing. Tibo even had a special tutor. It was their way of keeping Tim under their thumb. They didn’t like his new bend toward philanthropy since he’d become a Christian, and they saw me as an extension of that.”

Vince let his head drop into his hands. He was the reason she’d endured their scorn.

Cass swallowed. “When Tim died, they stopped all payments of the things
they’d
pushed on us, leaving me to foot the bill. I sold the things we owned that were of value, including the diamond, to pay the obligations his parents had created.”

“Tim was a good man, but not very wise when it came to his mother and father. He hoped one day they’d come around, but that never happened.”

“What about Tibo?”

“They claimed he couldn’t be their grandchild either, because of his autism.” Cass sagged against the couch back, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I didn’t care to prove it because they’d want Sophie tested as well. I couldn’t do that to her.”

Vince sat beside her and covered her hand with his.

She rolled into his chest. “What are we going to do?”

He gathered her in his arms and rubbed her back. “I don’t know.” Praying silently, longingly, to the rhythm of Cass’s labored breaths, he implored his Creator for this great favor to bring his daughter back. Drawn in by the scent of Cass’s hair beneath his chin, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her tighter into himself.

She laced her arms around him and nestled closer.

“I love you.” His words fell out as if a natural part of his being.

She stiffened and pulled away.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“This isn’t the time. We need to figure out what to do about Sophie.”

Did she think he didn’t know that? Did she think he didn’t care that his daughter was in danger?

He stood. Time to act. “I’ll be back in the morning before the call.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find our little girl.” He opened the front door. “And don’t worry, I won’t involve the police.”

~*~

No police.

Vince thought about Adam Grant, the canine cop from the church who worked at Maryland State University. Vince had helped the guy with an investigation last year when Adam needed information about a drug connection from Vince’s past. Maybe Adam could return the favor. Vince shook his head as headlights streamed past from cars going in the other direction. That wouldn’t work. He didn’t dare be seen in Adam’s presence, then Cassandra’s, for fear there would be an association between the two. Everybody knew Adam was a cop. He sometimes even wore his uniform to church events when he was rushing in from a long shift at work.

Vince wordlessly beseeched his Creator, suddenly understanding why the Holy Spirit interceded with groans that could not otherwise be expressed.

How could they find Sophie without the police? No access to investigators, informants, tracing technology.

“God …” His voice came out a cry. “Your power is made perfect in our weakness …” And he definitely felt inadequate to this task. He wanted to plead more, but instead lay his heart in His Father’s hands, and rested there.

It’s all he had.

Whoa! Vince almost ran into the car in front of him at the thought that just popped into his head. He had access to those who could help. Had God given him this idea? Would He really tell Vince to use his
criminal
friends? Though they usually worked the wrong side of the law, they might have the tools, and connections he needed to find his little girl. But could he trust them? He wasn’t sure, but there was one thing he was certain of—he could trust God.

Vince screeched his Elantra around the two-lane median and headed to the one place he could count on to find just the man he needed—The Dock. He muttered a
thank you
to the heavens as his vehicle sped toward its destination.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of his car as he meandered through the crowded lot to find an opening. Music pulsed through the cracks of the wood-paneled building that sat beside an inlet of the Chesapeake Bay as patrons walked in, and stumbled out. It’s a wonder no one had ever drowned off that pier—that he knew of, anyway.

Vince found a spot, parked and strode toward the entrance, a different purpose pounding a beat in his chest. His usual reason for coming here was to preserve someone’s eternity. His current goal had a shorter time-line. Tonight he needed to save his daughter’s life.

Smoke hazed the atmosphere as he stepped inside and wound his way through the crowds. Eddie usually hung out by the bar.

Eddie turned as Vince neared. “Hey, Vince.” He stood and slapped Vince on the back. “Haven’t seen you round lately. Where’ve you been?”

Vince wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, but he didn’t know how to form the request.

“Mom said you came to visit her when she had pneumonia.” Eddie shook his head. “Even brought her some food. Didn’t know you could cook, my man.”

“I can’t. Yolanda and a few other ladies from the church made the meals.”

“That was one mean casserole. You tell Yolanda, next time I have a cold, she can bring one of those to my house.” He winked.

“You ate your mother’s casserole?”

“Just a taste, dude. I didn’t clean out my sickly mother’s fridge, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Eddie’s face turned serious. “Really, man, Mom appreciated it … a lot. Said you prayed over her too.”

“That’s what we do in my profession.” It’s all he’d done since he left Cass’s house.

“Well …” Eddie sat and twisted his glass back and forth on the bar top, “ … it helped a lot, man. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Eddie.” Vince sucked in the smoke-filled air. “Listen, I need a favor.”

Eddie’s brows rose. “Shoulda known you’d collect right away.”

A woman lifted from a stool and stumbled into Vince. “Sorry,” she slurred as her eyes ran over the length of him. She left and Vince took her seat.

“This is serious.”

Eddie halted all movement. Something about it comforted Vince. He knew Eddie would help … if he could.

“I need some information—fast. And I can’t go to the police.”

“Diet Coke, Vince?” When did that bartender get so close? Vince would have to be more careful what he said.

He shook his head. “Won’t be here long.”

The bartender turned to another patron.

“What kind of info do you need?” Eddie seemed as intense as Vince now.

“You know that woman you keep razzing me about?”

“Yeah.”

Vince scanned the area for any possible listeners. Satisfied there were none, he lowered his voice. “Her daughter’s been kidnapped.”