Buch lesen: «Texas Baby Pursuit»

ONE

Texas Ranger Dallas Sanders parked in the back of the sheriff’s station in Cimarron Trail, his home for the past few years. Although he worked out of the Texas Rangers’ office in San Antonio, he loved returning to the smaller town northwest of the city at the end of a long day at work. Now that he’d wrapped up an intense case involving a turf war between two rival gangs that had lasted six months, it was time he introduced himself to the new sheriff, and then all he wanted to do was go to his ranch and spend quality time with his daughter, Michelle.

When he slid from his SUV and started for the building, his cell phone’s ringtone played “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” He smiled when he saw who was calling him. “Hi, princess. I should be home in half an hour.”

“Dad, I’m not at the ranch. I’m babysitting for Aunt Lenora. Grandma drove me here, and Aunt Lenora will bring me home in a couple of hours.”

His thirteen-year-old daughter was the reason he’d bought a small ranch right outside of Cimarron Trail rather than living in San Antonio. Yes, it added an hour to his commute to and from work, but it was worth it. Some of his relatives lived nearby, and after his wife had walked out on their marriage, his daughter needed family around her for support. “How about dinner?” he asked as he opened the rear door into the sheriff’s station.

“I’ll let you know. Aunt Lenora has a committee meeting that might run over. If I get hungry, she has stuff to eat here. The reason I’m calling is that the store where I want to buy my electronic keyboard is open until nine, and I’ll have enough money after Aunt Lenora pays me. Can you take me later when I come home?”

He glanced at his watch. Three o’clock. All he had thought about on his drive home was relaxing and spending some quality time with Michelle now that he didn’t have to put in fourteen-hour days.

“Dad, please.”

He released a long breath. “Sure, if we have time. If not, we can go tomorrow. I’m taking a few days off.”

“I think I called the wrong number. Are you sure you’re Dallas Sanders?”

He laughed. “I know, princess. I’ve been working way too much, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m holding you to it. Gotta go. Brady’s crying.”

When he disconnected the call, he slid his phone back into his pocket. He smiled as he scanned the large room where most of the deputies worked. Michelle was his life. When Patricia left him a few years ago for another man, he’d spiraled into a depression that he’d had to fight his way out for the sake of his daughter. Without Michelle, he might have wallowed in his misery for years.

Dallas approached Deputy Carson, a member of his church. “Mark, is the new sheriff here?”

The young man gestured toward a closed door off the main room. “I know you don’t work this county, but I was expecting you last week.”

“I was working a big case that rapidly blew up. The good thing is we have the main perpetrators safely in jail now. My life will get back to normal.”

Mark chuckled. “But for how long?”

“Please don’t say that. I want only positive thoughts.” Dallas strolled to the closed door and knocked.

“Come in,” a female voice said.

He entered the office and found a woman dressed in a brown uniform with her head bent over a paper she was writing on. His gaze latched onto her shoulder-length auburn hair, which fell forward, framing her face as she looked up at him. Crystal-clear green eyes locked on his face for a few seconds before she noticed the Texas Ranger star pinned to his white shirt over his heart.

She rose, came around her desk and extended her hand. “I’m Sheriff Rachel Young. Since you aren’t the Texas Ranger who covers my county—because he’s on vacation—I’m assuming you’re here on one of your cases. How can I help you?”

He shook her hand. “I’m Dallas Sanders, and no, I’m not here on a case. I live right outside of Cimarron Trail and wanted to welcome you to the area as well as let you know if you ever need extra help, I live at the Five Star Ranch. I understand you were a sergeant for the Austin Police Department before becoming sheriff.”

Her smile lit up her whole face and made him feel at ease. “When my father retired, I jumped at the chance to fill his position and run for sheriff. I grew up in Cimarron Trail.”

“I dealt with your dad a couple of times when a case I was on involved this county, too. I didn’t think he would retire for years.”

“He finally decided to become a rancher. It was a childhood dream besides being a police officer. His place is northeast of Cimarron Trail. The Safe Haven Ranch, which is really a refuge for abandoned animals, is three hundred acres, small by Texas standards.” She gestured toward a chair in front of her desk. “If you have time, take a seat. I’d like your view of what’s happening in the area. I want to be proactive rather than reactive. My first ten days have been quiet. Too quiet. I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Dallas sat while the sheriff took another chair nearby. “I assume your father filled you in.”

“About the county, yes. But what I mean by the area is the other counties nearby, including Bexar County.”

“I just wrapped up a case involving a turf war between two gangs. At least for the moment it’s quiet between them, although I’m not naive enough to think that will last. There has also been smuggling activities up and down I-35.”

His cell phone sounded, and he slipped it from his pocket to see who was calling. Michelle. Again? Maybe her plans watching Brady had changed. She usually texted him while he was working, but a call twice in fifteen minutes was most unusual. “I need to answer this.”

He tapped the on button. “Michelle—”

“Help! They’re taking Brady!”

Her frantic words, followed by a scream, urged Dallas to his feet. “Michelle, what’s going on?”

Then it sounded like she dropped the phone, sending chills down his spine. “No! Don’t,” she cried out.

“Michelle!” Everything went silent.

He rushed out into the main room, aware the sheriff had followed him. He glanced back. “Something’s happened at my sister’s house. Can you follow me?”

With her keys in her hand, the sheriff nodded and said to a deputy, “Follow, too.”

As Dallas hurried toward his SUV, he kept repeating his daughter’s name into his cell phone, but there was only silence. The phone was dead. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he started his car. His sister’s house wasn’t far from the sheriff’s station, but every scenario involving kids that he’d encountered as a law enforcement officer raced through his thoughts. He recalled the semi truck full of human beings smuggled into the United States—children included—discovered just this month in a parking lot during the heat of summer in a suburb of San Antonio.

After he slammed to a stop in his sister’s driveway, he ran toward the front door, trying not to think about the smuggling rings bringing people in and out of this country. He couldn’t rid his mind of it. Fear spurred him to go faster.

When he spied the front door wide open he drew his gun, and his professional facade fell into place. Whatever had gone down, the perpetrator could still be inside—with his daughter.

Sheriff Young and her deputy entered the house right behind him. Dallas motioned for them to go right while he went left toward the bedrooms. His heartbeat drowned out other sounds as he moved down the hall, checking the rooms. When he stepped into Brady’s, its emptiness mocked him. Brady is gone. Where is Michelle?

* * *

As Rachel moved into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was that the back door—just like the front door—was wide open. She gestured for her deputy to circle the room while she headed to the exit, leading to a screened-in porch.

Lying on a blanket on the wood floor was a young teenage girl, her arm stretched out toward a smashed cell phone, blood pooling onto the coverlet. “Call 911,” Rachel yelled to her deputy as she rushed to the child and knelt next to her.

The girl’s eyes fluttered, opened for a few seconds, then closed.

“Michelle. I’m here to help. Your dad is, too.” Rachel felt the teenager’s pulse on the side of her neck. Her fast heart rate might indicate a concussion. She examined the injury on the side of the girl’s head, blood still flowing from it, but she couldn’t tell how deep the wound was. “Michelle.”

The young teen moaned and lifted her eyelids as she tried to sit up.

Rachel gently restrained her. “Don’t get up yet.” She spied a white hand towel on the blanket and snatched it up, then pressed it against the girl’s wound to try and stop the bleeding.

The child’s brown eyes grew wide as she stared over Rachel’s shoulder. “Dad.”

Rachel had been so absorbed in the teenager she hadn’t heard Dallas coming out onto the porch. She looked over her shoulder at Texas Ranger Dallas Sanders, over six feet tall. His stiff posture and clenched jaw warred with the smile flirting at the edges of his mouth as he looked at his daughter.

A half grin won out. “I’m here, honey. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

Rachel was amazed at the calmness in his voice. Now she understood why her father had mentioned Dallas when discussing potential allies for her in the area. He kept his composure in a situation that would throw most into a panic.

Dallas squatted on the other side of Michelle and took over putting pressure on the injury to stem the blood flow. “What happened?” he asked in a soft, soothing voice.

“Brady.” Michelle turned her head to the side—the movement causing her to wince and displace the cloth on her wound. “They...took him, Daddy.” She waved her hand toward an area with scattered toys on the blanket. Tears ran down her face.

Again the teen tried to rise, but this time Dallas clasped one of her shoulders. “Don’t move until you’re checked out.” He re-covered the injury with the cloth. Worry engraved deeper lines on his face.

“Your dad’s right,” Rachel said. “An ambulance is on its way. You’re in good hands.”

“But Brady...” Michelle’s eyelids half closed “...is gone...” Tears drenched her cheeks, her eyes dulling.

Rachel glanced at Dallas. Their gazes locking for a few seconds gave her a brief glimpse into the suppressed fear in his eyes, so dark they were almost black. “Michelle, I’m Sheriff Young. I’m here to look for Brady. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of him.”

While Dallas hovered over his daughter, trying to reassure her everything was being taken care of, Rachel rose and covered the distance to Deputy Jones, who was one of her investigative officers. “Call for backup. A baby was taken. We need help looking for Brady.” She started for the screen door that led to the yard. “I’ll be out here canvassing the yard. Let me know when more help arrives.”

“Yes, ma’am,” her deputy said with a nod.

Rachel started for the exit, glancing back at Dallas and his daughter.

“I’ll be right back, princess.”

Michelle clutched her father’s arm. “Don’t leave me, Daddy.”

“I’m not. I need to talk to the sheriff for a moment.”

The teen slipped her hand away and held the cloth over her injury, her arm shaking. Dallas rose and quickly bridged the short distance between himself and Rachel. “I’ll get what information I can from Michelle and contact my sister and mother.”

“I’ll need a description of Brady and what he was wearing, and if possible, a recent picture. It’ll help with the Amber Alert. How old is he?”

“He’s eight months old and crawling. Not walking yet. He has dark hair and blue eyes.”

Rachel nodded, then turned toward the door as the EMTs came onto the porch. The screen door was slightly open. The kidnapper came in this way or left out the back. She descended the steps but paused a moment and again looked at Dallas, standing back from his daughter, running his fingers through his short brown hair. A tic twitched in his jaw while one of the paramedics stooped to check Michelle.

Rachel’s throat thickened. She had a daughter who would turn one in a month. All she wanted to do was drive out to her parents’ house, pick up Katie and hug her. Never let her go. The only good thing that had come out of her marriage was Katie.

This case would be hard for her. She’d only been sheriff for a couple of weeks and had dealt with minor crimes so far. The honeymoon was over.

She scanned the area—open with few fences except one along the back where a dirt road ran behind the houses on the street. The kidnapper could have parked on that road by the southern border of the Fowlers’ ranch and easily climbed the rear fence. But then, if that were case, why was the front door open?

As she walked toward the rear of the property, using the most direct path, her gaze swept the ground around her. About ten feet away, she spotted a binky on the grass. She took out her phone and snapped a picture. After putting on a pair of gloves, she leaned over, picked up the blue pacifier and put it into an evidence bag. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been outside long. Possibly dropped by Brady, which meant the kidnappers had left by the back door and headed for the road behind the house. She’d need to know from Michelle how the kidnappers got into the house, since both entrances were wide open.

Most likely the perpetrators entered through the front door, because it had been wide open when Michelle and Dallas arrived. Maybe they fled out the nearest exit. And ran around to the front to leave? She hoped a neighbor had seen something—the kidnappers or the getaway car with a license plate number.

It was even possible they’d come into the place through the back screen door and gone out the front because their car was on the street. But wouldn’t Michelle have seen them approaching from the rear? Only the top half of the porch was screened. Rachel shook her head and looked back at the house.

Her stomach tightened into a hard ball, and she held up the evidence bag with the binky in it. Or they’d come in the front and gone out the back, their car parked on the dirt road behind the property. She had to check everything out. Timing was important in cases like kidnapping.

She climbed the fence rails and paused above the ground and road, staring at several sets of different tire tracks. She knew they were freshly made because the day before it had rained hard. She would have casts made of all of them. Maybe one would give them a lead. She inspected the barren earth that had only a few weeds sticking up. Two pairs of boot prints crisscrossed the tire tracks. Michelle had said “they.” Were there two intruders or more, having something to do with one of the back ways into the Fowlers’ ranch?

She would have this area blocked off and processed, but she would also need to pay Houston Fowler a visit to find out which of his employees had used this road in the past twenty-four hours. Even if no one had, maybe one of them saw something.

As she hopped down and started back toward the house, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and punched the on button. “Is everything all right, Dad?”

“I’ve got a call there’s been a kidnapping.”

“An eight-month-old baby.”

“Whose?”

“Lenora and Paul Howard’s. How’s Katie?”

“She’s fine. Your mother is feeding her. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to my granddaughter.”

Her dad knew her well. Rachel reached the porch. “I need to go.”

“I don’t want to butt in, but I’ll help in any way you need.”

“Thanks, Dad. Right now, just keep Katie safe.” Rachel disconnected the call and opened the screen door to the porch, then entered.

Deputy Jones finished taking photos of the area. “Texas Ranger Sanders went with his daughter to the regional hospital.”

Thinking of the nasty bleeding gash on the side of Michelle’s head, Rachel asked, “Was she still responsive when she left?”

“Yes. He called his sister and brother-in-law. They should be here soon. Also, the word’s getting out and already a couple of reporters have arrived.”

“But not on the property?”

“No. Standing in the street along with some of the neighbors.”

“I’ll go around front and meet the parents. Send a deputy out to make castings of the tire tracks along the dirt road behind here as well as the two sets of boot prints.”

Instead of going through the house, Rachel headed around the side of the building and came upon a large, muscular man wearing a hoodie standing behind a group of tall bushes, peeking in a window. When he spied her, he whirled around, plunged through the thick vegetation and raced across the Howards’ neighbor’s back lawn.

Rachel took out after him. Her heart pounded as quickly as her feet against the ground. The suspicious man disappeared around the corner of a home two away from the Howards’. As she chased him, she pressed her mic and said, “I’m in pursuit of a guy at the Howards’. I’m two houses away heading west. I need backup.”

Who was this guy? Why was he there? What was he looking for?

Rachel chased the man around the side of the neighbor’s place, colliding into the solid wall of his body, his head down, hood masking his face. She stumbled back, fighting to stay on her feet. As she regained her footing, she raised her head just as a fist plowed into her jaw, then her eye. The world swirled, and she collapsed.