Chickasaw County Captive

Chapter Seven

“How did a Sanselmo drug cartel get mixed up in this anyway?” Jason Foley asked Kristen later that afternoon when she dropped by the office to see if his brother had called back.

“Apparently Sam Cooper was involved in several high-profile cases in D.C., including the conviction of a drug lord’s son.” Kristen explained what she knew about the Carlos Calderon case. “Junior ticked off a fellow inmate and ended up dead a couple of weeks ago.”

“And Cooper thinks Papa C. has decided nabbing the Cooper kid will exact some sort of vengeance?” Foley looked skeptical.

“It was Norah Cabot’s idea, actually.” Kristen tried not to let her dislike show. “But it’s certainly a motive worth investigating,” she added grudgingly.

“What did you think of the former Mrs. Cooper?” Foley asked in a tone suggesting he already knew the answer.

Kristen tried to be fair. “She’s smart, beautiful and sophisticated, befitting a high-powered corporate attorney. Seems to harbor no ill will toward Cooper.”

“How’d she interact with the kid?”

Kristen thought about how she’d phrased it earlier to Carl. “She’s kind to Maddy, and seems to like her. But I just don’t get any sense that they connect like you’d think a mother and child would.”

“And your theory about the fiancé’s Senate run?”

“I still think that probably explains why she hopped a plane and flew down here so fast, but I can’t really see where it supplies a motive for trying to kidnap Maddy from her father’s home. Sam Cooper is open to Norah seeing more of Maddy, so why break the law when she could accomplish the same thing through normal, legal means?”

“So we mark her off the list?”

With a sigh, Kristen nodded. “Probably.”

Foley chuckled. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“I’m not.” She had to smile. “Well, not much. But if that woman looks at me like I’m some inbred hick idiot one more time-”

The phone rang, keeping Foley from saying whatever he was clearly itching to say. His wry grin faded immediately. He listened to whoever was on the other line for over a minute, jotting notes on the pad in front of him. Finally, he put down his pen and looked up at Kristen. “Thanks, Rick. I’ll tell her what you found.”

Kristen’s gut tightened as he hung up the phone. “Was that your brother? Does he know something about Enrique Calderon?”

Foley nodded. “He found out where Calderon was the night of the attack on Sam Cooper’s niece and daughter.”

“SAM COOPER, A GOURMET CHEF. Who’d have believed it?” Norah lifted the lid and sniffed the savory aroma rising from the stew pot. She’d arrived at the guesthouse a half hour earlier, driving a shiny red Mercedes convertible with a Limbaugh Motors sticker and dealer plates. Sam suspected Mike Limbaugh had rented Norah his personal car, since the small dealership wasn’t known for its luxury vehicles.

“It’s just chicken-vegetable soup,” he said aloud, mildly amused by Norah’s hyperbole. “You chop a few vegetables, add some chunk chicken, water and seasonings and let it all simmer together. You should try it. It’ll knock Junior’s socks off.”

She made a face at him. “I’m just surprised you turned out to be such a good hausfrau. You were always a take-out menu sort of man back in the day.”

“Perhaps because you were always a take-out menu sort of woman.” Sam stirred the soup. “I’m working fewer hours these days, and I have a child to feed.”

As he reached for the pepper mill, he heard footsteps on the stairs outside. Automatically he went tense, reaching for the knife lying on the chopping board nearby and wishing his Glock 9 mm wasn’t hidden in a box at the top of his closet.

Norah looked up with alarm. “Sam?”

A knock on the door eased his tension only marginally. Keeping the knife in his right hand, he crossed to the door and looked out. It was Kristen Tandy. He relaxed, reaching for the door handle.

Behind him, Norah’s cell phone rang. He heard her answer as he opened the door and greeted Kristen.

“I have news,” she said tersely, not waiting to be invited inside.

Sam closed the door behind her and followed Kristen into the room. Norah joined them, her eyes bright.

In unison, both women blurted, “Enrique Calderon is dead.”

The twinge of disappointment Sam felt upon hearing the news that one of their best leads had dried up gave way to amusement as Norah and Kristen stared at each other in disbelief.

“How the hell did you know that?” Norah asked Kristen. “My contact at State called me the second he found out.”

Kristen smiled placidly. “My contact called a half hour ago with the news.”

“When did he die?” Sam asked.

Both women turned to look at him as if suddenly realizing they weren’t alone in the room. Kristen answered first. “The last time anyone saw him alive was five days ago. The FBI’s source within the cartel confirmed Calderon’s been dead at least four of those days-he saw the leader’s body himself. The cartel’s inner sanctum has been keeping things mum while they jockey for position in the leadership stakes.”

Sam glanced at Norah to see if she had anything else to add. She looked annoyed but didn’t contradict anything Kristen had said.

“Well,” he said, before the tension in the room blew up in his face, “I guess we can mark Calderon off the list, then.”

Kristen nodded. “But I think your case history is probably a good place to keep looking,” she added. “There are bound to be others like Calderon in your past.”

“Does this mean you’re taking me off the suspect list, Detective?” Norah asked drily.

Kristen turned to Norah, her gaze narrowed. “I can’t see where you’d have any motive to try to harm Maddy or Sam. They’ve made it clear that you’re welcome to have a part in their lives, so you’d have no reason to take extreme measures to be with your child.”

“Well, hallelujah. The Gossamer Ridge Constabulary takes me off the most-wanted list.” Norah feigned relief.

“Perhaps you’d prefer we skip steps and leave stones unturned in our quest to protect your daughter,” Kristen responded quietly.

Norah’s expression went serious. “No. I would not prefer that, Detective.”

“I think I hear Maddy stirring from her nap,” Sam interjected. “We didn’t discuss dinner, Detective Tandy, but there’s plenty for everyone. Unless you have other plans?”

Norah spoke before Kristen could answer. “Actually, Sam, would you mind terribly if I took Maddy out for dinner tonight? The Sycamore Inn has a lovely little French café on the first floor. I thought Maddy and I could eat there and get a little better acquainted. Just the two of us.”

Sam’s gut twisted at the request, catching him by surprise. He had thought he would be happy to see Norah take an interest in their daughter, but the idea of handing Maddy over to the mother she barely knew suddenly held no appeal for him.

“I’m not sure it’s safe, given what’s been happening,” Kristen interjected. Sam flashed her a grateful look.

“Oh, please. We won’t be walking down Main Street flashing a ‘come and get us’ sign,” Norah scoffed. “I just want a little alone time with my daughter at a perfectly safe little inn in downtown Gossamer Ridge.” She put her hand on Sam’s arm. “You always say I can see Maddy whenever I want, no conditions. I want to take her to dinner. Please trust me to do that.”

Sam glanced at Kristen, wondering if she’d come up with another argument. “I don’t think someone will go after her in a public place,” Kristen said, her watchful gaze batting the ball back into his court.

With a sigh, he turned back to Norah. “Her bedtime is eight-thirty. I’ll go see if she’s up from her nap.”

Sam moved reluctantly toward the bedroom door, half expecting a fight to break out the second his back was turned. But both Norah and Kristen remained silent as he opened the door and slipped into the darkened bedroom.

He crossed to the bed and turned on the small bedside lamp. Pale gold light illuminated his daughter’s sleepy face. “Is it time for my surprise?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the nap.

Trust his little girl to have a sharp memory when it came to promised treats. The surprise he’d promised was the batch of peanut butter fudge his mom had made the night before and packed up for him earlier when they were at his parents’ house, but now he had a different surprise. “How would you like to go to dinner with just your mommy tonight?”

“Mommy?” Maddy sounded a little doubtful, as if she had expected to wake to find Norah already gone.

Sam’s heart spasmed. “Your mother wants to take you to the inn where she’s staying to have dinner. Just the two of you. Wouldn’t you like that? A girls’ night out?”

Maddy’s forehead wrinkled. “Just Mommy and me?”

Sam nodded. “It’ll be fun. I bet she’ll even buy you some chocolate ice cream for dessert.” He made a mental note to make sure Norah did just that.

“Well, okay,” Maddy said after a moment. “Can I wear my purple dress?”

He smiled, relieved he’d thought to pack it. “You betcha.” He went to the closet and pulled down her favorite purple sundress, the one with the bright yellow sash and the enormous sunflower right in the middle. Maddy loved to wear it for special occasions like birthdays and parties. Maybe it was a good sign that she was excited enough about dinner with her mother to think of the purple dress.

As he helped her into the dress and brushed her hair, he found his mind wandering away from the idea of Norah and Maddy out on the town together and into the dangerous territory of dinner alone with Kristen Tandy. Would she agree to stay for dinner, without the buffer of Maddy between them? Did she even feel the same tension he felt every time they were alone together?

“Ready to go, baby?” he asked Maddy when he’d finished putting her hair up in a neat ponytail.

“Come with us, Daddy.”

“I can’t, sweetie. Your mama wants to take you to dinner all by herself. And besides, if I go, Miss Kristen will have to eat dinner all alone. You don’t want that, do you?”

She looked inclined to argue, but he hurried her out to the living room, where he found Kristen and Norah standing about as far apart as they could manage.

Norah smiled at Maddy. “You look so pretty, Maddy,” she proclaimed, although Sam could almost see her mind clicking off a list of ways she’d have dressed Maddy differently. He hoped she’d keep her constructive criticism to herself around Maddy.

He resisted the temptation to walk Maddy and Norah out to the car, appeasing himself by watching them drive away through the front window, his heart in his throat.

“I think she’ll be fine with your ex-wife,” Kristen said softly. Her voice was close; when he turned to face her, he found her standing only a foot or so away.

“I know. I’m being an idiot.” He managed a smile. “You know, the dinner invitation stands. I have a big pot of chicken soup and nobody to share it with. Do you have dinner plans?”

She shot him a wry smile. “No plans.”

He held out his arm. “Your table awaits, madam.”

She cocked her head, surprise tinting her expression. But she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and smiled up at him, letting him walk her over to the table.

She didn’t sit immediately when he pulled out her chair. “Don’t you need help in the kitchen?”

“Are you impugning my culinary skills?”

“No, of course not.” She sat when he waved his hand insistently at the chair, but her voice followed him into the kitchen. “But I could at least get some ice in the glasses.”

He turned to look at her, amused by her obvious unease at being waited on. “Let me do this for you. Consider it a thank-you for what you’re doing for Maddy.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue but finally gave a nod of assent and settled in the chair, her hands folded primly in her lap. She looked nervous-adorably so, like a teenager on her first formal date. Well, except for the teenager part. There was nothing girlish in the way her curvy body filled out her faded jeans and fitted gray blouse.

He spooned soup into two bowls and carried them to the table. “Today’s chicken soup includes a dash of sea salt, a delicate sprinkle of chicken bouillon powder and a bold, ambitious canned vegetable blend.”

She grinned up at him. “Don’t you hate when waiters do that? Like it’s going to make the entrée taste better if you know the mushrooms were grown in the basement of a tiny monastery in France.”

He grinned back at her, pleased she got the joke. “Especially when you know they were probably grown accidentally in the leaky basement beneath the restaurant.”

“Exactly!”

He returned to the kitchen for the iced tea, still smiling. Maybe this evening would turn out even better than he had hoped.

AN HOUR LATER, KRISTEN HAD finally let herself relax. Sam was a funny, entertaining dinner companion, seeming to instinctively steer clear of touchy subjects during the meal. Instead, he told her stories about his time in the JAG corps, with himself as the butt of most of the jokes. By the time they moved to the living room for the whipped cream and strawberry dessert, Kristen had begun to wonder why she’d felt so nervous about sticking around.

“My mother grows strawberries in a little garden beside the house,” he told her, setting the bowl of fruit and cream in front of her. “She has an amazing green thumb. The garden is tiny-maybe twenty feet long by six feet wide, but she gets the most out of the soil. Strawberries, blueberries, turnip greens, green beans, tomatoes-one year she even grew corn.”

“I always wanted a garden,” Kristen admitted. “I tried once, when I was about ten. I wanted to grow flowers-daisies and irises and roses. Our neighbor down the street, Mrs. Tamberlain, had the most beautiful rose garden. One day she gave me a cutting and told me how to get it to root in water so I could plant it myself.” She smiled at the memory. “When the roots started to sprout from the cuttings, I was so excited I started jumping around like I’d won the lottery or something.”

“Did it grow?”

Her smile faded. “Mama got angry at me about something-I don’t even remember what now. She threw the glass holding the roses at the refrigerator. It smashed all over the place. And she just stomped over the roses to make me cry.” She pressed her lips to a tight line, anger and hurt bubbling up from a place deep inside her, a place she thought she’d shut down a long time ago. “But I didn’t cry.”

She felt his gaze on her, knew what she’d see if she looked at him. Pity. Maybe horror. Probably both.

She cleared her throat and picked up the bowl of strawberries and cream, even though her appetite was long gone.

“You don’t talk about your childhood much, I imagine,” Sam said. He didn’t sound pitying or horrified, just curious. She dared a quick look at him. He met her gaze almost impassively.

“No, I don’t,” she admitted.

“I should warn you, I talk about mine all the time. Growing up here by the lake was any kid’s dream come true.” He took a bite of dessert. “I know I’m lucky.”

“You are.” She took a bite of the strawberries and cream, as well. The flavor was the perfect blend of sweet and tart, and the appetite that had fled with her memories came roaring back with a vengeance. “These strawberries are amazing.”

“Told you.” He gave her a light nudge with his elbow. “Next time we’re up at the main house, get Mom to show you her tomatoes. She might give you a cutting so you can grow some of your own.”

“Nowhere to grow tomatoes at my apartment.”

“Not even a sunny balcony or porch?”

She did have a small, sunny patio at the back of her apartment, facing the grassy courtyard of the apartment complex. “I guess I could grow them in large planters.”

“That’s the spirit. You’ll be a gardener in no time.” Sam set his empty bowl on the table in front of him. “Sometimes you don’t get exactly what you want in life, you know. But if you’re creative and maybe a little brave, you can usually get pretty damned close.”

He wasn’t just talking about gardens anymore, she knew. But he was talking as someone who’d had a pretty good life. Maybe his first marriage hadn’t worked out, but he had the kind of family background that made it easy to pick himself up and move on to the next challenge.

She didn’t have that kind of foundation. She didn’t even know what a normal life looked like.

“You and Maddy seemed to be having fun when we got here.” Sam reached across the coffee table and picked up the drawing Kristen and Maddy had been working on earlier. “I guess you’re developing a little resistance to your kid allergy, huh?”

“I don’t have a kid allergy,” she replied. “They just-”

“Bring back bad memories?”

She looked up at him. “Yeah.”

He nodded, his expression solemn but mercifully devoid of pity. “I figured it might be something like that.”

She didn’t want to talk about her childhood, but the emotions roiling inside her chest were clamoring to get out, and she was tired of fighting them. Sam Cooper would understand, she realized on an almost visceral level. He’d keep her secrets if she asked him to.

“I was all my brothers and sisters really had, in the end.” She had to push the admission past her closed throat. “Mama wasn’t herself at all by then. She-she didn’t exist in the same reality as the rest of us.”

“You were a teenager by then?”

“Thirteen. Barely.” She’d felt much older by then, however. Ancient. “It was like juggling a million flaming clubs all at once, while wolves were snapping at your heels. Trying to keep everyone fed and clothed, trying to get them to school on time, trying to keep social services from finding out our situation, trying to keep the little ones from understanding how far gone Mama really was-” She ran her hands over her face, nausea flicking at the base of her throat. Maybe she should have let DHR-the Department of Human Resources, the state’s social service agency-know what was going on in her household. She’d been terrified that they would separate her from the other children, but in hindsight, intervention would have been so much better than what had actually happened.

“You know what?” Interrupting her bleak thoughts, Sam reached across and took her hands in his. His palms were warm and slightly calloused, pleasantly rough against hers. “You don’t have to talk about this tonight if you don’t want to.”

“You don’t think I need to get it all out?” she asked wryly. “Won’t I feel all better if I spill my guts about my tragic past?”

“Probably not.” His grip on her hands tightened. “But if you want to tell me about your not-as-tragic life afterward, I’d love to hear about that.”

She smiled at him, almost limp with grateful relief. “That would bore you to death.”

He let go of her hands. She tamped down a sense of disappointment. “Have you heard anything new about your niece?” she asked after searching her mind for new topics. In her haste to hurry back here to tell Sam about Calderon, she’d forgotten to ask Foley for an update on Cissy Cooper’s condition.

“I ran by the hospital to check on her before I picked Norah up at the airport. She’s still in a coma, though the doctor says he’s more optimistic she may not have lasting brain damage once she comes out of it.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Impulsively, Kristen squeezed his arm, her fingers digging gently into the hard muscle of his bicep.

His gaze dropped to her hand, then slowly lifted to meet hers. The air between them supercharged immediately, making her fingers tingle where she touched him. She felt a hot tug deep in her belly, drawing her closer.

This was why staying for dinner was dangerous.

She should pull her hand away. Pull away and put distance between them, before she did something stupid and irrevocable.

But she couldn’t move.

His gaze slid down to her lips, and she parted them helplessly, a whisper of breath escaping her throat. She saw the vein in his neck throbbing wildly.

Her whole body vibrated as the trill of a cell phone ripped through the tense atmosphere.

Sam jerked away, reaching in his pocket for his phone. “Cooper.” He listened a second, his eyes widening with alarm. “When? How?”

Kristen’s stomach tightened as she saw terror fill his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was strangled. “Stay right where you are. I’m on the way.”

He was halfway to the door before Kristen could react. She jumped up to keep pace with him, her heart in her throat. “What is it?”

He paused for half a second at the door to look at her, his eyes dark with fear. “That was Norah. Maddy’s missing.”