Walker?”
“I don’t know.” He swore. “Get dressed. I’m going out.” He was lifting his cell phone as he turned away, punching in numbers. As she hurried to her bedroom, she heard him say, “Duncan? I’ve got a situation.”
She’d never gotten dressed so fast in her life. She crammed her bare feet in athletic shoes, laced them and tore down the stairs. She reached the front door in time to see Conall running toward the horse pasture. A small dark shape was rolling beneath the lowest rail, crawling then scrambling to its—his—feet.
“Conall!” Walker sobbed. “Those men took Brendan. You’ve gotta save him. You’ve gotta!”
* * *
CONALL SWUNG THE BOY into his arms. Walker wound arms and legs around him, clutching desperately. He was astonishingly light. Conall felt a lurch inside at the realization of how little there was to this boy. Brendan, he thought with horror, while probably six inches taller was every bit as skinny.
As urgent as the need for answers was, Conall let Walker sob out his fear.
“We’ll get him back,” he murmured. “I promise. Shh. Calm down. It’ll be all right.” He hoped desperately that he wasn’t lying.
Lia had reached him, her breath hitching. “Walker. Oh, honey.”
Past her, Conall saw that Sorrel had come out onto the porch in her baby doll pajamas and stood stiffly, hugging herself.
“Okay.” Conall started walking to the porch. He said with authority, “Tell me what happened.”
“Bren wanted to…to—”
Conall took the half dozen steps and sat on the top one, Walker still holding on for all he was worth. It took a huge effort to keep his voice calm. “Wanted to what?”
“He wanted to do something to help you.” Face swollen and wet, glasses crooked, the kid stole a look up at Conall. “He wanted to be brave like you.”
Conall felt sick. This was the payback he deserved for being stupid enough to talk to the kids about his work. He’d thought he was doing something good, opening himself to them, giving them something to think about besides the death of their mother and their uncertain future. Instead, he’d apparently encouraged Brendan to try to be heroic.
A ten-year-old kid up against a trio of paranoid, crazy bastards with everything to lose.
Lia had sat so close she pressed against him. He guessed she wanted to snatch Walker away, keep him, at least, safe. But she made no move to do so.
“What did he think he could do?” Conall asked gently.
Walker was breathing like an asthmatic having an attack, his whole body shaking. “He took a couple of those bug things. You know, the ones you said would let you hear what they talked about.”
Oh, shit.
“He put some in his pocket that day I showed you our equipment.”
Walker’s head bobbed.
“They won’t work,” Conall said hoarsely. “The ones I showed you weren’t live.”
“You mean— You mean you still won’t be able to hear anything?”
He’d come close to dying half a dozen times or more, and he’d never felt this kind of fear before. “No,” he said. “No, we still won’t be able to hear.”
Walker’s teeth chattered.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Lia reached out then, and Conall let her take the boy. Her terrified eyes met his over Walker’s head. “What if the men see what he’s got?”
Brendan was dead, that’s what.
Their best hope was that Brendan had kept his head and lied for all he was worth. Kids did stupid things. They sneaked out at night. God help him if the neighbors found the sophisticated electronic bugs in the boy’s pocket.
Conall glanced over his shoulder and saw that Sorrel was crying now.
“All right,” he said, pretending he was calm and in control, “here’s what we’re going to do. Lia, you’ll take the kids in the house.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to argue.
He shook his head. “Duncan is on his way with a couple of his people. They’ll be parking out at the main road and coming in on foot.”
She nodded.
“I’m going over there and knocking on the front door. Walker got scared and told me he’d dared Brendan to sneak over to the house and back without the dogs noticing. But he didn’t come back, and Walker heard the dogs bark, so he woke me up. I’m there because I’m afraid one of the dogs has attacked Brendan. I’m scared. I’m begging for them to call their dogs in and help me find my kid.”
“Your kid?” she said so quietly he had to read her lips.
His throat closed. He was a moment before he could say, “My