Her Mistletoe Protector

Rachel swallowed hard and sent the message explaining they’d have the money by one o’clock in the afternoon.

There was a tense silence as she waited for the kidnapper’s response. When her phone beeped again, she picked it up with shaking fingers.

“Well?” he asked. “What was his response?”

Rachel lifted her tormented gaze to his, her lower lip quivering with fear. “He said to text him the minute we get the money and not a second later. He also said he’d hurt Joey and keep on hurting him for every minute we’re late.”

SEVEN

Rachel shivered, despite the bright sunlight streaming in through the windshield keeping the interior of the car toasty warm. She couldn’t bear the thought of the kidnapper hurting her son. She didn’t even want to think about what Joey may have already suffered.

She forced her frozen fingers to text back. I promise I’ll call as soon as I have the cash. Please don’t harm my son.

“Rachel, try not to panic. I’m sure he’s bluffing,” Nick murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

“I’m not willing to take that chance,” she snapped.

Nick didn’t seem a bit fazed by her anger. “Remember, we’ve just purchased a new phone. There’s no way for him to track us from now on. And it could be that he isn’t even aware of that fact, yet.”

Suddenly, the idea of getting a new phone didn’t seem like such a good one. Her heart lodged in her throat and she gripped his hand tightly. “What if he gets mad about the switch and hurts Joey?”

“Don’t worry, Rachel,” Nick said in a soothing tone. “The kidnapper has come too far to turn back now. He wants your money, remember?”

Nick’s theory wasn’t at all reassuring. Yes, the kidnapper wanted her money, but it could be that he also had a sadistic streak and took some kind of perverse pleasure from hurting young children, too. She was tempted to beg Nick to return to the truck stop, so she could grab her old phone out of the garbage.

But he was already heading down the highway toward Margie Caruso’s house, so she bit her tongue and tried to relax. At least for now, the kidnapper couldn’t track their movements, which was a good thing. She hoped and prayed that they’d find Joey there.

This time, Nick didn’t pull up in front of the house, but drove around the block, parking on the opposite side of the house. It was broad daylight, so it wasn’t exactly easy to hide from curious eyes.

“Remember, I’m the one who’s going to do the talking here,” she reminded Nick as they slid out of the car.

He grimaced and nodded, keeping a sharp eye out as they walked down the street. Margie Caruso’s house was the third one in from the corner, so it didn’t take long to get there.

She could hear the faint hint of Christmas music coming from one of the houses, and she couldn’t help quickening her pace, eager to see if Margie was home. Nick hung back as she walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell.

The seconds passed with agonizing slowness, but soon the door opened, revealing a well-dressed and nicely groomed woman who didn’t look anything close to her fifty-some years. But the moment Margie saw Rachel standing there, she frowned. “No soliciting,” she said abruptly.

“Wait! My name is Rachel Caruso. I’m not selling anything, I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

Margie paused in the act of closing the door, her gaze raking over Rachel from head to toe. “You’re Anthony’s wife?” she asked.

Hiding a wince, she nodded. She tried to think of a way to forge a bond with the woman. “We divorced a long time ago, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind talking to me for a few minutes.”

The former Mrs. Frankie Caruso pursed her lips for a moment. “Who’s he?” she asked, gesturing toward Nick.

“This is Nick, a good friend of mine.” She twisted her hands together, hoping Margie wouldn’t guess that he was a cop and refuse to see them. Rachel didn’t exactly want to have this conversation outside. Not that she was even sure what she was going to say. The main reason they’d come to Margie’s house was to make sure Joey wasn’t being held here.

“I guess you’d better come in, then,” Margie said, opening the screen door for them.

Nick held the door as she entered the house first. She glanced around curiously and was a little disheartened to find nothing unusual. There were some holiday decorations, including a small fake tabletop-size tree. Would Margie invite her in if she was hiding her son here? Somehow she doubted it. Yet she firmly believed Margie Caruso would be a link to her son. “You have a very nice home,” she murmured as she stepped into the living room.