"Where was this found?"
"In the mailbox out on the road with the rest of the mail,'" she said. "Jessie offered to collect it earlier in the day, but I wanted the exercise. Then I got busy and didn't walk up the drive until later."
"You walked in the dark?"
"Yes, I quite often do. I've always felt safe on this island." Then her face crumpled, and Zach knew she must be realizing she'd probably never recapture that feeling of absolute safety again. "Oh. God," she said.
"Breathe," he reminded her.
She inhaled and exhaled, and when she'd composed herself somewhat, she sat a little straighter in her seat and eyed him curiously. "How can you stay so calm?"
"I've spent eighteen years in a specialized unit—extracting kidnap victims is part of what I do. This is different, of course, because it involves my sister, and I don't know where Glynnis and your son are being held, so I can't simply slip in and get them out. But I will see to it that both of them get home safe and sound, ma'am. You can count on that."
She nodded, then turned to the plain brunette seated next to her. "Master Sergeant Taylor and Miss"—she turned to Lily—"I'm sorry, I don't know your last name."
"Morrisette," Lily said. "But please, Mrs. Beaumont, won't you call me Lily?"
"And I'd be honored if you'd call me Zach, ma'am," Zach agreed.
"Very well." She turned back to the brunette, "Jessica, Zach and Lily will need rooms. Would you see about preparing them?"
Chapter 9
ZACH MANAGED TO MAINTAIN HIS CALM, PARADE-ground face right up until the moment he shut the door to the room he'd been assigned. Alone at last, he dumped his duffel bag on the floor, walked to the side of the bed, and sat. He barely noticed either the room's pleasing color scheme or its opulent appointments. He only knew that his hands had developed a fine tremor, and he stared at them as he clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to stop the shaking.
His baby sister had been kidnapped.
"No," he whispered in fierce denial. He couldn't lose her. He'd been looking after her one way or another since the day his mother had put her into his arms and then put the two of them on an airplane, and he could not, would not, lose her now.
Except he hadn't exactly done a stellar job of looking after her, had he? Maybe Lily was right. Maybe he had been concentrating on all the wrong things. Take Beaumont, for example. It appeared he wasn't after Glynnie's money after all. And even if he had been, suddenly that didn't seem like the worst situation in the world. Zach had plenty of money—he'd happily provide for his sister and whoever else her little heart desired. Hell, he'd give up every red cent he owned if that would guarantee her safe return.
It didn't help knowing that this was far from his first screw-up with her. He'd been happy enough to skip out on her the minute he'd turned eighteen. He'd delegated responsibility without a backward glance, and hadn't once bothered to make sure Grandfather was teaching her the most elementary of life skills.
Nor had he bothered to really get to know her when he'd resumed charge of her after Grandfather's death. He'd been so damned bent on protecting her from potential con artists out to drain her inheritance that he'd neglected to realize it was her own lack of knowledge that was probably her greatest vulnerability.
He'd made certain assumptions about Glynnis without taking the time to discover who she'd become. And now he was faced with a fair possibility he'd never get that opportunity.
No. Zachrose to his feet, teeth gritted. No, by God, that isnotan option, so don't even think it . He would get Glynnie back. And Beaumont as well, if that would make her happy. Damned if he was going to lose anyone else he cared about—his life had been filled with too many good-byes as it was. He'd lost his parents, his grandmother, and more men whom he'd fought beside and counted as friends than he cared to think about. There hadn't been anything he could do to govern those circumstances. But he'd move heaven and earth to get his sister back.
Not that he'd exactly made a great start. He should have insisted the police be called as soon as he'd learned about the kidnapping. Then again, his entire focus had been locked on not getting bounced from this house, because to do so would have cost him any chance of gaining control over the situation. Tomorrow morning he'd rectify that. Meanwhile, he wasn't without resources of his own.
He picked up the telephone from the nightstand and punched in his calling card number with one hand while he fished his address book out of his duffel with the other.
A moment later the phone on the other end of the line rang three times before it was picked up by a machine. His friend Cooper Blackstock's recorded voice began a spiel telling him to leave a message, then was abruptly replaced by a live voice that impatiently snarled, "Whataya want?"
Zach glanced at the clock and grimaced. "Oh, shit, Coop. Sorry. I didn't realize it was so late."
"Zach?" Coop's voice wanned considerably. "That you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, sonuvabitch, Midnight. How's it going? I hear your sister has some woman who's an absolute babe living off her. I think Rocket dug up some information on said babe, but he won't discuss it with me, so I'll have to let him tell you what it is for himself. And don't that beat all? Who would've thought the guy who used to tell us way more than anyone ever wanted to know about his sex life could suddenly be so discreet?"
"Coop—"
"Yeah, I know." His warm laugh rumbled down the line. "Even Peter Pan's gotta grow up sometime. But back to your sis, Rocket tells me she ran off with some guy. You disentangle her yet?"
Zach's hand tightened around the receiver. Suddenly he didn't want to say this out loud, because to do so seemed to make it more real. But there was no help for it. "I've got a situation here, Ice. I'm at her boyfriend's home now on Orcas Island, and it seems Glynnie and Beaumont were kidnapped on their way here."
"What?" Tne humor left Coop's voice. "Jesus. What can I do to help?"
"I don't suppose there's a chance you've interviewed someone in the Seattle FBI for one of your books?"
"No, man; I'm sorry. I don't have a single contact there."
"Then I think you'd better let me talk to John. I need him to tap some of his sources for me."
"You got it. Hang on a second."
Zach heard him calling Rocket's name, then a low-voiced conversation in which Cooper must have explained the situation, for John picked up the phone a moment later and said without preliminary, "I'll make inquiries with the Seattle feds, Zach—find out from the field agents there if their SAC is reliable and discreet, or one of those assholes who cares more about grabbing headlines than the safety of the abductees."
It was an important distinction. Most of the kidnap victims their type of unit was charged with extracting were military, so it wasn't often they dealt with the FBI. But they'd liberated enough snatched ambassadors and businessmen to know the personal agenda of the special agent in charge could make the difference between a victim being returned alive or shipped home in a body bag. The possibility of placing his sister's life in the hands of some hotdogger out to make his name made Zach's blood run cold.
As if John could tell, he said with unsentimental briskness, "Give me the particulars so I can figure out what else needs to be done."
Zach recited them as if giving a report to a senior officer, and Rocket was silent for a moment. Then he said in a carefully neutral tone, "So you're telling me Beaumont is the primary target?"