Her Mistletoe Protector
The closer he got to the location she’d given him, the more his gut tightened with fear and worry. And when he saw her mangled car wedged against the guardrail, his stomach dropped. He was surprised to see there weren’t any police cars or ambulances at the scene. As he pulled over, Rachel was there, limping and crying, making her way down the road. He bolted from his car and ran toward her. “Rachel, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“He took Joey!” She grabbed his arm in a tight grip. “You have to do something! Right now!”
“Which way did they go?”
“N-north.”
“All right, let’s go.” He took her arm since she was shaking so badly he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stay upright. She managed to hang on long enough to climb into his car. He slid quickly into the driver’s seat.
As he drove he reached for the radio. “I have to call my boss, tell him to send a chopper. The truck will be easier to find from the air at night.”
“Wait! I have a text message.”
He froze, watching as she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her pink hoodie sweatshirt.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“Don’t call the police or I’ll kill him.” She lifted her tortured gaze to his. “I knew it! I knew the mob was after me. And now they’ve kidnapped Joey!”
Every instinct he possessed told him to radio for backup, but Rachel had grabbed his arm again, squeezing so tight he winced as her nails dug painfully into his skin. “We have to find him. We have to get to Joey!” she sobbed.
“Rachel, I know you’re scared, but let’s calm down and think this through. We need to get the helicopters to go after that black truck.”
“If that guy sees the police he’ll kill Joey. You don’t know how ruthless the Mafia can be. Please don’t do anything that will hurt my son. Please!” Her green eyes implored him to listen.
He pressed harder on the accelerator, going well above the speed limit. He wished a cop would try to pull him over, because then they’d have their badly needed backup.
“This is all my fault. They have Joey and it’s all my fault,” Rachel moaned.
He glanced over at her, wishing there was something he could say to make her feel better. But he knew only too well what it was like to lose a child.
“There!” Rachel’s excited shout drew him out of his depressing thoughts. “That’s the black truck that hit me.”
He couldn’t believe they’d found the black truck here, on the side of the road. But as they came closer, it was clear that the vehicle had been abandoned. Was it possibly a different truck? No, the damage to the front bumper convinced him they had the right vehicle. The passenger-side door was left hanging wide open, as if someone had grabbed Joey and taken off running without bothering to shut the door behind him.
He scanned the area, but there wasn’t much he could see in the darkness outside the glow from his headlights. He could tell that beyond the open cornfield was a subdivision full of houses, many of them twinkling with various holiday lights. The kidnapper could be anywhere. Either on foot or—if he wasn’t working alone—in another vehicle.
“Where are they? Where’s Joey?” Rachel barely waited for him to stop the car before she was out and racing over to see for herself.
He followed hot on her heels, ready to prevent her from disturbing any evidence. But he needn’t have worried.
She simply stood there, staring inside the empty truck, her eyes welling with tears. “They’re gone,” she whispered.
He curled his fingers into helpless fists, knowing there wasn’t any way to put a positive spin on this latest turn of events.
Joey was gone and Nick didn’t have a clue as to where he might be.
* * *
Rachel shivered, ice creeping slowly through her bloodstream like a glacier. She’d been so certain they’d find the black truck. Find Joey.
But her son was still missing.
“Come on, Rachel. I have to call my boss,” Nick urged, putting a hand beneath her elbow to nudge her away from the truck.
She didn’t move, couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the empty truck. Joey had been in there, with a hood over his face. She couldn’t bear to think of how frightened her son must be. “Hang in there, Joey,” she whispered, as if he could hear her. “I’m coming to get you.”
“Rachel, there’s nothing more we can do here. Not until we get a forensic team to go through the truck to pick up trace evidence.”