Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

“Dammit, boy, you answer me,” Chase thundered.

“Remember last spring, Gramps?” Trey poured three fingers of whiskey into a glass, jammed the stopper back on, and snatched up the drink, then turned to face his grandfather. “You warned us that Rutledge might want to get even. He has. An eye for an eye. My son for his.”

Jessy’s mouth opened in a wordless protest, and she took an instinctive step toward Trey, then sensed that physical contact was something he would reject. Chase’s only reaction was to lean slowly back in his chair.

“I think you’d better tell us what happened,” Chase stated calmly.

Trey tossed back a hefty swallow of whiskey, but if it burned on the way down, Laredo observed no indication of it in Trey’s expression. Instead there was a look of cold resolve in his dark eyes that Laredo had only seen in one other man, and that was Chase Calder.

“When I arrived at the hospital this morning, I was told Sloan had left with our son thirty minutes earlier. After calling in favors, twisting a few arms, and greasing some palms, I learned that she boarded one of Rutledge’s private jets. According to the flight plan, its destination was Fort Worth.?

??

His response was a clear, concise statement of the facts without embellishment or emotion. But Laredo was more impressed that Trey hadn’t assumed anything; he had dug for the facts.

“I managed to get a look at the phone charges from the hospital. Sloan placed two long-distance calls to an unlisted number in Texas. The first three digits are the same as the Cee Bar’s number.”

“It’s plain the two of them planned this together,” Chase concluded, then released a troubled sigh. “I’m surprised she didn’t leave you some kind of note—just to throw some salt on the wound.”

“She did.” Trey pulled the crumpled sheet from his jacket pocket and tossed it to him. “She had the cab driver bring it to the hospital and added a fifty-dollar tip to make sure he waited until he saw her plane take off.”

Chase reached into his shirt pocket to retrieve his magnifiers, only to discover they weren’t there. With no hesitation, he handed it to Jessy. “Read it aloud.”

“My God,” Jessy murmured when she saw what it said, and she directed a commiserating glance at her son. “‘My lawyer will be in touch.’ And it’s signed ‘Sloan.’”

“That’s cold and to the point,” Chase declared on a grim note.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Laredo made a sideways study of Trey. “Wait for her lawyer to call?”

“Like hell I am!”

With navigation lights blinking in the dusk of day’s end, the helicopter settled gently onto the Slash R’s private helipad, strategically located near the main house. Harold Bennett stood well back from the aircraft, but not far enough to escape being buffeted by its powerful downdraft.

As the helicopter’s engine was cut, slowing the rotation of its blades, a specially designed lift was rolled to the cabin door. It was a rare occurrence for Harold to observe his employer’s arrival from the ground. Any other time he would have been aboard the helicopter with Rutledge. But the day’s events had dictated otherwise.

In short order, Rutledge was lowered to the ground in his wheelchair, a briefcase on his lap. Harold moved to meet him when Rutledge sent his chair speeding toward him.

As always, Rutledge didn’t waste time with pointless greetings. “I ordered extra security. Have they arrived?”

“Yes sir. Two are on duty at the main gate. Another one’s stationed in the ranch yard. They’ve got three vehicles on the road and two men with dogs patrolling the house yard.”

“Have there been any problems? Any phone calls?”

“None, sir,” Harold replied, allowing a faint smile to show.

“Good.” Rutledge nodded in approval, some of that charged tension leaving him. “What about Sloan? Is everything all right there?”

“Yes sir. She was understandably tired and stressed by the time she got here. Other than that, she and the baby are doing fine and settling in nicely.”

“And you’re sure they’ve got everything they need,” Max challenged.

“If they don’t, I don’t know what it would be,” Harold told him. “The nursery is stocked with every baby item there is, and Sloan has a whole new wardrobe. If I overlooked anything, it’s a phone call away.”

“Where is she now?”

“In the nursery, feeding the baby.” Behind them the wheelchair hoist was rolled away from the helicopter, and the cabin door was shut and locked in preparation for liftoff.

“It’s time I saw this Calder heir.” Rutledge’s mouth curved in anticipation, but Harold knew better than to mistake it for a smile. It wasn’t the prospect of seeing the infant that put that gleam in Rutledge’s eye; rather, it was the knowledge that the child was in his house.