Texas Kidnapping
Autor
Barb Han
Lecturas
17,6K
CapĂtulos
19
She'll do whatever it takes to keep her baby safe. Aiming a shotgun at a would-be kidnapper showed Renee Smith she had the instincts she would need to safeguard her newly adopted daughter. Then US marshal Cash O'Connor offers her a safe haven at his Texas ranch and she knows it's best to accept his protection. Cash recognizes that Renee's incident is eerily similar to his own infant sister's unsolved kidnapping thirty years ago. This time, Cash vows to ensure history doesn't repeat itself.
Chapter One
The sound of floorboards creaking in the next room shocked Renee Smith out of a deep sleep. She forced her eyes to open, sat upright in bed and searched the unfamiliar dark room. It took a few seconds to get her bearings and for her to realize she was in her new house. She mustâve dozed off while working on her laptop, which was now tipped on its side. She straightened it, wishing righting her life could be so easy.
The first night in a new home and her new life hadnât exactly gone as planned. Unpacking while taking care of her six-month-old adopted daughter had proved almost comic. The day had been consumed by stumbling through feedings, diaper changings and figuring out parenting in general given this was her first go as a mother. Renee already realized the job was going to be far more difficult than sheâd imagined. This had also been the most rewarding day in all of her thirty-two years of life.
That being said, Renee mustâve been crazy to think that after getting a few months of parenting under her belt it was a good time to change cities. Sheâd kept her job in order to prove stability to the adoption agency and had started working from home instead. A new life in the old apartment sheâd shared with Jamison in Dallas had been out of the question. It was time to move on, figuratively, literally and in every other sense of the word.
The movers had packed up her belongings in a matter of hours. It was the unpacking while caring for a baby that was going to take forever. At this rate, the house might be unpacked by the time Abby went to college. And yet, the small Texas town was exactly the place Renee wanted to bring up her daughter.
She set aside her laptop and pushed to her feet, still half-groggy, and felt around for her glasses. Sleep and being a new mother werenât on speaking terms, let alone friends. The noise was probably just the old house settling but she wanted to check on the baby, whose room was across the hall. Since Renee wasnât completely blind and the glasses mustâve tumbled off her lap, she could find them in a minute.
A few steps into her walk across the room, another creak-like noise sounded. This time it registered that it might be more than just the wood flooring of her rented two-story farmhouse settling. In her half-asleep state, she realized that the floors shouldnât make a sound unless someone walked on them. A wave of panic shot through her, quickening her pace. The babyâs room had paper-thin walls with only a linen closet in the hallway between them.
A couple of scenarios ran through Reneeâs mind, her imagination no doubt spiraling out of control. And then she remembered that the temperature had been so beautiful that sheâd left the second-story window to her daughterâs room open while Abby slept.
But, wait, hadnât she closed that window? Yes, she distinctly remembered closing it, afraid she might nod off. A thump sound from the next room caused another wave of panic.
Was someone inside the house?
First nights in new places were always unsettling, but there was no way this was Reneeâs imagination running wild. Heart in her throat, she glanced around the small hallway, looking for something she could use to scare an intruder if there was one. An old shotgun that had been left inside the linen closet popped into her thoughts. Sheâd spotted it during the walk-through yesterday.
She opened the door and grabbed the weapon, checking for ammunition. The gun was ancient, and she seriously doubted it would work even with a shell. The only other weapons she could think of were her kitchen knives and those hadnât been unpacked yet. The shotgun was going to have to do.
Abby cried and that got Reneeâs feet moving. She ran into the room and then froze. A male figure stood between the crib and the window. He was bent over the crib. She lifted the barrel, aiming the business end at him.
âStop or Iâll shoot,â she shouted at the blurry male figure who was picking up her daughter. In the dark it was impossible to see him clearly, even if sheâd had her glasses on. Turning on the light could reveal the fact she didnât exactly have a real weapon.
Abbyâs cries fell silent and for a split second fear shot through Renee that the intruder had done something to her little girl. But Abby was winding up to release an ear-splitting wail.
Reneeâs heart clenched in her chest. âPut her down. Now. Or my contractor will be picking parts of you off my wall when he brings his painter in tomorrow.â Talk about making threats with no way to back them up. She could only pray that he wouldnât call her bluff. There was no painter and no contractor, but she sure as hell didnât want him to know it.
Abby was inconsolable. The man seemed to hesitate. Renee cocked the gun.
The next thing she knew, Abby was being set down inside her crib and the intruder was turning tail. She wished she could flip the light switch now so she could get a better look at the kidnapperâkidnapper!âbut one look at that shotgun and she could lose all her bargaining power.
The thought of someone sneaking into her house to steal Abby caused Reneeâs stomach to clench and her hands to shake. Her heart pounded against her ribs so hard she feared he would hear it.
In a fluid motion, he took a couple of steps back and then was out the window a beat later. The second he disappeared, Renee moved toward the window. She withdrew her right foot the minute she planted it because of something sharp. Glass? Had the window been broken? It would explain how the man got in. She checked to make certain he was gone. A blurry figure darted across the lawn and into some kind of vehicle that was too far away for her to make out.
Now that she was safe, she set the shotgun down and moved to her daughter.
âOh, baby. Iâm so sorry. That scary man canât hurt you now.â As Renee spoke the words, the weight of them struck. She cradled Abby to her chest and raced to her bedroom in order to check the lock there, needing to be certain that he couldnât surprise her from another room. Heâd slipped in and out so easily. Was he familiar with the layout? Someone whoâd lived here prior? One of her movers?
There werenât many people who knew sheâd moved and there wasnât much to the upstairs. The layout was simple. Two bedrooms, a linen closet and a bathroom with an authentic claw-foot tub was the extent of the space. Renee second-guessed herself for putting the crib in the other bedroom instead of in hers where she could watch over the little girl constantly. A child taken from his or her own bedroom had to be every parentâs worst nightmare.
While balancing the crying baby, Renee darted into her bedroom and felt around for her glasses. This time, she kept at it until she felt them. With one hand, she managed to put them on halfway straight. Next, she retrieved her cell phone from the nightstand and checked the lock on the window.
The need to check doors and windows on the first level overrode any other rational thought. She made her way downstairs and checked the front window. There were no other vehicles parked on her street.
Could someone have come through the back door? Renee ran there, too. She hadnât heard anything else. Of course, it would be next to impossible to hear anything over Abbyâs wails, the sound of which nearly broke Reneeâs heart.
She called 911 even though she doubted the dispatcher could hear her. At least the person on the other end of the line would know Renee needed help.
The minute someone answered, she immediately rattled off her name and address. âIâm new in town and someone just broke into my house and tried to kidnap my daughter. Please send someone immediately. Heâs out of the house but he could come back at any moment and bring friends.â The thought made her shudder.
Renee listened for a response. If one came, she couldnât hear it. Abby was so worked up she was starting to choke.
The new life that was supposed to feel like a fresh start seemed to be collapsing around Renee. And she was hanging on by a thread.
US MARSHAL CASH OâCONNOR had had a night for the books. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated his rental onto the highway heading northbound, home. The felony warrant heâd forced himself out of bed at two oâclock in the morning after a whopping hour and a half of sleep to serve had gone downhill faster than an out-of-control skier on his last run.
Not only had the scumbag arms dealer Cash was trying to pick up in Houston gotten away, but the jerk had shot up Cashâs service vehicle and nearly shot Cash. Traffic was bad on the I-45, making the drive back to Katy Gulch take twice as long as it should. Traffic on Texas highways was becoming as unreliable as spring thunderstorms. He never knew when theyâd occur or how bad theyâd get until the exact moment one struck.
It was late. Cashâs stomach growled for the third time. He was in no mood to stop off for a bite. All he wanted was to get home to his log cabinâstyle house on the OâConnor family ranch, heat up some brisket to make a sandwich and have a cold beer. Heâd skip the alcohol because he was on call, but that didnât stop him from wishing he could have one.
Instead, heâd made a pit stop for coffee. He took a sip. The cup of black coffee from the gas station that he desperately needed to keep him awake and alert tasted old and burned and a bit like what he imagined a sweaty foot might taste like. Cash figured he had no choice but to work with what he had, so he took another sip, willing the caffeine to kick in and boost his mood. To say heâd had a bad day was a lot like saying rattlesnake venom was poisonous.
A few more sips of coffee made it evident the caffeine would do little to combat his exhaustion.
It was early spring. The busiest season on the cattle ranch that his family owned and had operated for decades now. Four generations of OâConnors had worked or were working the Katy Bull Ranch, otherwise known as the KBR. And even though he and four of his brothers had other jobs, most of which were in law enforcement, everyone pitched in this time of year. Sleep was as rare as a unicorn sighting.
Finn OâConnor, the familyâs patriarch, had always been the epitome of strength and honor and everything good about ranching life. He was a staple in the community of Katy Gulch and used the considerable fortune the family had amassed to benefit others through charitable work mostly headed up by Cashâs mother. Folks couldnât help but admire the manâs generosity even if they did envy his life.
From an outsiderâs view, the OâConnors had it easyâeasy meaning they were wealthy. But no amount of money could bring back the daughter Margaret OâConnor hadnât seen since the baby last slept in her crib at five months old. The heartache and loss Margaret and Finn endured had shaped the OâConnor family. Tragedy had a way of doing that. It wrote a different history for those affected. One of his brothers, Riggs, worked the ranch full-time. Each brother had a home on the property in a location of his choosing. Each was expected to take his rightful place on the land at some point in the future. For now, their father and Riggs kept business under control. But Pops hadnât been himself lately. Thereâd been mention of him being ill but heâd reassured the family it was nothing he couldnât handle. Finn OâConnor was made of tough stock. He was a good man and the kind of father most wished theyâd had. Heâd been married to Cashâs mother, Margaret Ann OâConnor, for the last forty-two years. Both sat on top of the OâConnor dynasty because of hard work, honesty and generosity.
Cash had noticed that Pops seemed more tired than usual. Cash chalked it up to springtime on a cattle ranch. He thought about the home that had been built for him as a gift for his twenty-first birthday that he had yet to claim. Most of his five brothers were in the same boat. Six boys. Six future inheritors of one of the largest fortunes in Texas. Not one who wanted either of their parents to die in order to fill a bank account. The OâConnor boys had all done fine in their own right. None were strangers to hard work.
There may have been six OâConnor boys but thereâd been seven houses built. A lone home had been built for Cashâs only sister, Caroline, a sister heâd never met. Caroline had been kidnapped at five months old and the case had long since gone cold. Even so, their mother had started planning the house on what would have been Carolineâs birthday. Just like the others that would follow, the keys had been ready to be handed over exactly one year later. His mother had overseen every last detail, fretting over whether sheâd picked out the right color rug for the main room or the perfect pillow sham for the bedroom. Hell, Cash wouldnât even know what a pillow sham was if his mother hadnât spoken about everything during the decorating process. The detailed planning for each home had commenced on each siblingâs twentieth birthday. The keys were delivered exactly one year to the day later.
Cashâs cell buzzed. With the way his day had gone he couldnât help but wonder what now?
As soon as he glanced at his phone and saw his brotherâs name, Cash pulled off the road and into a convenience store parking lot.
âWhatâs up, bro?â Cash answered before the call rolled into voice mail.
âWhere are you?â Colton asked after a perfunctory greeting. Colton was the countyâs sheriff. A call from him most likely didnât signal good news.
âGetting close to my exit on the highway. Why?â Cash didnât like where this conversation was headed.
âMy office just got a call from our townâs newest resident on Cherry Street. Seems there was an attempted kidnapping involving her six-month-old daughter. Sounds like youâre closer to her street whereas Iâm forty minutes away. There are no deputies in the area, either. Any chance youâd be willing to stop off and take the report?â Colton had no idea the day Cash had had.
âThis bad guy still in the area?â Cash asked.
âItâs a possibility. Dispatch said they could barely make out what Ms. Smith said for a babyâs cries,â Colton said.
âI got your back.â Duty called and duty had always taken a front seat to Cashâs personal life. Besides, how much worse could his day get?
There was also something in Coltonâs voice that didnât sit right. Cash put the phone on Speaker and navigated back onto the highway.
âEverything good with you?â he asked Colton.
âItâs Mother. Sheâs probably worrying over nothing.â Colton paused a beat. âPops isnât answering his cell.â
âIs he out on the property?â
âI keep reminding her about the dead spots on the property and heâd last been around Hunterâs Rock,â Colton supplied.
âThat place is the worst. I never get service out there.â The OâConnor ranch was vast and there were plenty of dead zones when it came to cell service. âHave you noticed that sheâs been acting weird ever since Popsâs checkup last year?â
âI have.â Static came through the line, making it sound like Colton was on the move. âSheâs been keeping Pops on what he jokes is a short leash.â
âI had the same thought.â Even so, Cash figured their father had gotten winded somewhere out on the property and was taking a minute to rest. It wasnât too surprising that their father hadnât answered any calls, considering all the patches of land with no cell service.
âThis time, sheâs not letting it go. She begged me to put together a team to go out and search for him. Thatâs the real reason for the call. Sheâs worked herself into a panic and I donât think itâs a good idea that I leave her alone right now even though she practically tried to shove me out the door.â
âDid you call Gayle?â Their neighbor and Mother had been best friends for decades.
âSheâs on her way now,â Colton admitted. âBut if there is a kidnapper and heâs in the vicinity, you know better than anyone that time is always the enemy when it comes to criminal cases.â
âTrue,â Cash agreed. âYou stay put. Iâll take the call. Iâm almost there already. Keep me posted on Pops.â
âI will,â Colton promised. He supplied the basic details of the complaint.
The two ended the call as Cash pulled in front of 724 Cherry Street.
Cash walked up to the two-story farmhouse, surveying the quiet street for signs of anything out of the ordinary. The suspect might still be lurking, waiting for an opportunity for round two.
No two crime scenes were alike. No two calls the same. Variety was part of the reason Cash loved his job. But attempted kidnappings always made him think of his sister, Caroline.
He white-knuckled his cell phone as he cleared the porch steps, thinking about the impact the crime had had on his parents. It was strange how a ripple could affect so many lives after it was felt.
At least in this case, the kidnapper had failed. Even so, Cash knew firsthand just how much crime changed people, how much it had changed him.
