No Fault of Mine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I pulled my phone from my rear pocket and dialed Ann. Her phone went directly to voicemail. I thumbed disconnect and dialed Stan. It went to voice mail, too, and I said in hush tones, "We found Ducain. Check with Ann for the location, and don't waste time."

I tried Ann's number, but this time, I left a message, letting her know that Ducain's command center was the address she'd given us. I asked her to call Stan and the police.

My hands were shaking as I thumbed off my phone. I was sure I was just yards from my son. He had to be in the house, and I had to find him.

I couldn't see anything moving around me. I stood and tried to get my bearings. The sky was blue through the canopy, but the sun had left the valley and plunged the woods into near darkness.

The gunshots had decided my next steps. I headed toward the end of the house, deciding to go around to the back in the hope of finding a way in. Though light shone through the door when 

Ducain gave his orders, the house was otherwise dark. I thought RJ would search the forest between the house and the road, and if that was the case, I had a chance.

I'd gone only a few steps when my phone vibrated. I hit the ground and shielded the phone's screen. I didn't have time to see who was calling.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Mia," a familiar voice said, "it's so nice of you to drop by."

"Where's my son?" I demanded.

"Mia, please be civil," he said. "We have some business to discuss."

"We have no business, Ducain," I said. "Give me my son."

"Aren't you a businesswoman; this is just business."

"Kidnapping isn't business, it's criminal." I may have sounded tough, but I was beginning to feel desperate. I wasn't in a position to demand or bargain. To be successful, I needed to shift my thinking. Maybe he was right; I was being too much of a mother. As he said, I needed to change tactics. Though this wasn't business to me, I needed to control myself.

"Okay," I said. "You didn't tell me what you wanted,"

"Ah, you are so insightful, Mia," he said suavely. "That's what we have to discuss."

"My son is not up for discussion," I said.

"He isn't. I'm prepared to hand him over now if you fulfill your part of the contract. It's up to you."

"You've not told me what you want." I was stalling, and I was sure he knew it.

"Mia, I have you in my night vision. I'd rather this not be messy. Please accept my invitation and come on in."

I heard a twig snap behind me and turned to find RJ with enough artillery to hold off a police battalion. I stood, and RJ silently pointed toward the front door. Apparently, I moved too slowly because he pushed me with the butt of his gun. I stumbled and hit the trunk of a tree as I fell to my knees.

"Hey, no need to push," I complained. He grunted and made no attempt to help me up. "Since you seem to be good at hitting women, were you the one who planted your fist in my chest?" Still not a word, but I detected a subtle change in his breathing.

We left the woods and were walking across a well-manicured lawn.

"Is my son in the house?" I asked. I was desperate to know, of course, but I was beginning to think RJ was not a talker. He at least didn't try to motivate me again with the butt of his gun.

Ducain was not an imposing man. I'd pictured him as a wrestler-chested six-foot-tall beast.

Instead, he had a chopstick body on a short five-foot frame. His curly hair needed a trim, a lock bounced on his forehead, and he didn't smile.

"Ms. Stoddard, we've talked so many times," he said as he looked me over. His eyes lingered uncomfortably on my chest as he scanned down my body and up again. "I see you as more than an acquaintance." I thought I detected a wrinkle on the side of his mouth. If so, its meaning wasn't clear, but I think it was all the welcome I would get, having walked into his lair.

"I can't say the feeling is mutual," I said. "Now, can I see my son?"

"Ms. Stoddard, I assure you he's fine and eagerly awaits your visit," he said.

"I don't intend on a visit," I said with as much sternness as I could muster. "I plan on him sleeping in his own bed tonight."

"Now, we are negotiating," he said with a bite of irony. "I'd planned to get to this point, but I'm glad you are a businesswoman. Lest we digress, I want to assure you that your uncle is healthy and awaiting the end of our contract."

"What is it you want?" I snapped.

"Not much," he whined. "Just a little key."

"I don't know of any key," I said disdainfully.

"Just a little brass key, Ms. Stoddard," he said, moving to a chair. "Please, sit with me as we finish the terms of your contract." He pointed to a chair next to the couch. "Now that we're comfortable, would you care for a drink? A relaxed atmosphere and a little wine should set the tone."

It felt like he was stalling, but it made no sense. Wouldn't he know we were in touch with help? He hadn't even asked for my phone.

"Okay, I'll play along," I said. "Anything white would be nice."

BJ turned toward a cabinet and pulled out a Chardonnay.

"As your wine is poured, you might find some information helpful. We knew your whereabouts, thanks to technology. You led us to the "Firesafe" file and the sheet it contained, which was the first step." He paused and looked at me with satisfaction, but I held my response. "After waiting a week after Martin's unfortunate demise, we decided to up the pressure. That was my job. The raid on your house tipped you over, eventually leading you to a frantic search."

"Cleaver," I said with sarcasm.

"Thank you," he said, taking the wine glass from Micky's hand. "I would also say genius."

"Okay, you have the file. What do you want from me?" I asked and accepted the wine extended to me.

"Ah, your sixth request," he said, sipping his wine. "You see, you found it and lost it. It's a shame, really. This all could have ended then. But Thad, that evil little man, took it."

"The box? This is all about the box?" I said louder than intended. "Then get it from him."

"I wish it were that easy, and herein lies the problem." He finished his glass in one gulp and handed it back to RJ. "The code you so generously provided gave us the location; the box has the key."

"What do you mean, key."

"Take the obvious definition, Ms. Stoddard. Don't make it complicated."

"A brass key?" I asked. "A geo-location? Really?"

"Now, it's dawning on you," he said sarcastically. "The code was simply a location. I'm afraid that's only half of what we needed."

"The key is to a safety deposit box," I said in a near whisper, eyes on his athletic shoes.

"That's not exactly true, but that's not what's important," he said, offering a cold grin.

"So, that's it. Thad said I'd destroyed the company," I said. "Is that what he meant."

"He's been skimming cash for years...I think it's called embezzlement. Yes, that's it." His smile suggested he had hit a home run and was proud of it.

"And he was trying to pin it on me and my husband?" A rush of heat colored my face. I could accept my brother embezzling money from the company, but to blame Martin and me for his crime seemed a whole new level of evil. "Now, how do I get my son back!" I said.

"It's easy. Take your phone out of your pocket, call his number, and tell him I'm going to kill his sister."