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“I’ll need to talk to Sam and to the SWAT team. But first—” She reached into her purse, found Sharon’s card, and handed it to Buck. “This is Ruth’s lawyer. Have dispatch call her and let her know what’s happening. We need to get Ruth here, as fast as we can.”
“And the little girls?”
“Not unless their mother insists on it.”
Sam turned as she approached. He looked as if the weight of worry had aged him by ten years. If Jess’s efforts failed, it would be his call to post a sniper or send in the SWAT team to kill Ed McCoy—and risk the lives of three precious hostages, including his own daughter.
“Here. Put this on.” He passed her a protective vest. “The team’s setting up a direct phone line so you can talk to him.” He gazed toward the house, his throat moving as he swallowed. “Thanks, Jess. This can’t be easy for you.”
“It isn’t easy for any of us, Sam. And you can thank me when there’s something to be thankful for.”
While she waited for the phone line to be set up, along with a chair, a folding table, and a notepad with a pen, Jess took time for Grace. As she walked toward her, Grace opened her arms. For a long moment, the two women held each other.
“We argued before I took her to Abner’s.” Grace was fighting tears. “I wanted to take her Christmas shopping, but Maggie insisted that she had to be there to try out the sleigh. I gave in, but I wasn’t very pleasant about it. What if those cross words are the last ones she ever hears from me?”
“You mustn’t think like that. We’ll get her back, Grace. We’ll get them all back.”
A ghost of a smile tightened Grace’s lips. “You know, I keep thinking of that old story, ‘The Ransom of Red Chief,’ by O. Henry. Surely you’ve read it.”
“I have.” Jess remembered the tale of the inept kidnappers who snatch a young boy for ransom—a boy who makes such a pest of himself that they end up paying the boy’s father to take him back. “That would be Maggie, all right. She’s one spunky little girl. She’ll get through this. You’ll see.”
“Jess, we’re almost ready for you.” Sam was calling her.
“I’m coming.” Jess squeezed her friend’s hand, then hurried to the table that had been set up for her next to the van. She willed her mind to shut out all distractions. She had to believe she could get those children safely out of the house. Anything less was unthinkable.
* * *
Trevor felt as if he’d been tied to the chair forever. His legs ached from sitting and his arms hurt from being pulled behind his back. He could probably get loose if he had to. Maggie wasn’t much good at knots. But then Ed McCoy would tie him up again, so tightly that he couldn’t move. McCoy would probably slap him around for good measure.
From where he sat, Trevor could see Skip in the kitchen, also tied to a chair. His head was down, and he appeared to be dozing. Except for the bruise on his face, there was no way to know how long he’d been there or what his stepfather had done to him before tying him up.
His friend had it harder than he did, Trevor reminded himself. Being threatened and tied up by a stranger was bad enough, but being held captive by a member of your own family—that had to be worse.
“Do you know what this place needs, Mr. McCoy?” Maggie was still unbound, and she wouldn’t stop talking. Trevor was afraid the man was going to hit her or worse.
“This place needs a Christmas tree,” she said. “You know, if you let us go, my dad will get you a nice big one, for free. He’ll even buy you some decorations to hang on it.”
“Shut up, little girl,” McCoy growled. “Your yammering is making me want a drink, and I need to stay sober.”
Maggie fell silent but only for a moment. “Mr. McCoy, do you really have dynamite?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He sneered at her.
“Can I see it? Will you show it to me?”
“Be still, Maggie!” Trevor hissed. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“It looks to me like we’re already in trouble,” Maggie said. “Maybe we should sing some Christmas carols. What’s your favorite, Mr. McCoy?”
McCoy’s lip curled. “Little girl—”
He didn’t finish because just then the telephone rang.
* * *
“Ruth? Damn it, you bitch, if you don’t get your butt home this minute, you’re gonna wish you had.”
Jess took a breath and spoke in a chatty tone. “Ed, this is Jess Graver. Remember me? You were working on my house when I stopped by.”
