That clenched Colin’s gut into a tight knot. The threat of violence. God knew how the kid was reacting to that. He didn’t know much about three-year-olds, but Luke probably realized he was in danger.
The Jeep crawled up the last leg of the road, and Colin spotted the house next to a lake that reflected the iron-gray sky. The place deserved to be labeled an estate because it sprawled out in front of them, seemingly taking up most of the mountain top. It’d be a bear to secure a place that size, but on the upside, the lake and the rugged terrain surrounding it might make it impossible for Boyd to escape.
“Any idea where Boyd’s holding the hostage?” Colin asked.
“We’re not sure, but he seems to be using the security system to monitor what we’re doing, and that system has cameras. Lots of them. He knows when we get too close to the fence, for instance. That’s why we set up operations on the east side of the property. The owner, Griffin Vaughn, said that’s a blind spot for surveillance. We’ve been bringing in the team that way so Boyd won’t know we’re putting agents in place in case we have to rush in for a rescue.”
A rescue. That was being optimistic. Because if it came down to the point where agents had to storm the house, Luke Vaughn’s chances of survival were slim.
“I heard you saved a kid over in Mesa Ridge about a year ago,” Rusty commented.
Colin settled for a “Yeah.” But that hadn’t been one of his success stories. Yes, he’d gotten the child out of the domestic violence situation. But he’d lost an adult hostage in a murder-suicide. Colin hadn’t been able to talk the twenty-eight-year-old man out of putting a bullet in the child’s mother.
He always remembered the failures.
Those were the ones that ate away at him and made him want to work ten times harder so that it wouldn’t happen again.
Rusty stopped about thirty yards from the estate fence and right at the edge of the activity. Even though everyone was dressed in rain gear, Colin spotted two fellow FBI agents and a man with a Kenner City sheriff’s hat. In addition, there were two Kenner County Crime Unit members carrying field kits.
Rusty opened the driver’s-side door but then turned and snared Colin’s gaze. “You’ll get this boy out of there?”
“I will.” With that promise he wasn’t sure he could keep, Colin threw open his own door. The rain came right at him, like razors whipping through the air.
“Colin?” someone called out.
Colin recognized the man walking toward him. Tom Ryan, FBI, and the commander for this particular crime scene. The lanky, somber-faced agent made his way to Colin, and they shook hands. “Damn glad you’re here.”
Colin nodded. “What’s the latest situation report?”
“Hell in a hand basket probably isn’t what I’d put in an official statement, but things aren’t good. There are no injuries, but the kid’s three years old, Colin.”
“Yes, I heard.” And Colin couldn’t let the emotion in Tom’s voice get to him. Focus. Shut out everything but the job. Because emotion wasn’t worth spit right now. The job, his training, his experience—those were the things that would free little Luke.
“My wife, Callie, is over there with Luke’s parents. She’s trying to keep them calm.” Tom whipped his thumb toward the woman carrying a field kit. She had dripping wet blond hair and was looking around on the ground. Trailing behind her, with their gazes fixed on the estate, were no doubt the Vaughns. “Callie’s the head forensic scientist at the crime unit, and she’s looking for any trace evidence so we can try to verify that Perkins is working alone.” He paused. “We’re supposed to be on a romantic getaway,” he added in a mumble.
Tough timing, but Colin wanted all of them there. Anything at this point could be valuable in dealing with Boyd Perkins, and maybe Callie or her team would find something that would help him with this negotiation.
Rusty left them to join two others who were hovered under umbrellas outside a police cruiser and a black four-door FBI standard-issue vehicle.
Tom led Colin toward an older-model white van. “We’ve set up a command post in here out of Boyd’s line of sight, barely. We wanted to get as close as possible in case he tried to escape through the front,” the agent explained. “Boyd’s using a prepaid cell phone to communicate. No way to trace it. And so far he’s refused to answer the house phones.”
The prepaid cell phone could indicate this was premeditated, but then a man with Boyd’s record probably used phones like that all the time. “You said we could see the front, but what about other escape routes?”
“All covered, and that’s no easy task. We have an agent at the back of the estate, but there are miles of tunnels beneath this place. Boyd has the tunnel entrances on his end blocked off so we can’t get to him that way. But I’ve put barricades at the end of each one, so he can’t use them for escape. And Boyd knows that.”
Good. Colin didn’t want the man to have any options other than dealing with him. The job started now. And Colin took a deep breath, cleared his mind and stepped up into the van.
His clear mind suddenly got very cloudy.
Right there in front of him perched on the dull brown leather van seat was the last person on earth he wanted to see right now.
“Colin,” she said as if she’d been expecting him.
Well, he sure as hell hadn’t been expecting her. “Danielle,” he greeted once he got his teeth unclenched.
“You two know each other?” Tom asked, apparently not realizing that was the mother of all loaded questions.
“Oh, we know each other,” Colin snarled. “Danielle is my ex-wife. Or at least she will be…” He checked the date on his watch. Not that he needed to. It was for show. He knew exactly when the divorce would be final. “In three more days.” He stared at her. “What are you doing here, Danielle?”
She spared him a glance with those cool green eyes. Eyes the color of an Irish four-leaf clover, he used to say, adding that she was his lucky charm. But that was the old days. He wasn’t feeling nearly as generous with the sappy compliments since she’d walked out on him three months earlier.
“Callie and I are old college roommates,” Danielle volunteered. “She thought it’d be good to have a child psychologist on the scene, so she called and asked me to come out and help.” Danielle held out her hands, palms up. “And here I am. I take it you’re the negotiator they called in.”
There went the clenched teeth again. “They wanted the best.” Colin made sure he sounded as cocky as he could.
Since she was seated across from a narrow table that held phones and other communication equipment, Colin plopped down next to her, bumping his hip against hers to nudge her over. It wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had. Danielle and he might want to claw out each other’s eyes, but his body still reacted to her. Probably always would. Because even though their marriage had been a disaster, the sex had been the best ever.
His body obviously wasn’t going to let him forget that.
The hip-to-hip contact earned him a little glare, but Danielle didn’t budge. Colin gave her another nudge. This time, a verbal one. “I don’t need a child psychologist. I can handle this myself. And you’d only be in the way.”
Those green eyes suddenly weren’t so cool. She mumbled something under her breath and shoved some wet wisps of hair from her face. Then he noticed her left hand.
No wedding or engagement ring.
Just the faint imprint where they’d once been.
Colin kept his own left hand hidden away. No need for her