Calculated Revenge

“Pardon me,” she murmured.

The man sneered and turned away.

Laney stared at his stiff, broad back. Why did the custodian dislike her? She shook her head and moved on, grief surging behind her eyes. A headache began to throb. She needed to get somewhere alone. Just for a few minutes.

She reached the exit, but a hand closed around her arm and turned her.

“Pierce. Hi. I can’t talk right now. I’m going—”

“Wherever it is, consider me your escort.” His concerned brown gaze drew a trickle from a corner of her eye. “Hey!” His thumb wiped at the tear.

She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you can go with me to the restroom.” She escaped out the door of the office.

In the hallway, students were rushing around, getting ready to head for home. Locker doors rattled, and juvenile voices yelled greetings and banter. Familiar sounds. Comforting sounds. Even the threat of a nameless stalker couldn’t douse the kids’ spirits on a fine day this close to summer break. Laney moved quickly between them, forcing herself to bestow smiles.

Fellow staff members called encouragement like, “We’re with you, Laney,” and shot her thumbs-up. But she read from their eyes that they didn’t know how to guarantee a good outcome any more than she did. Their sense of safety had been violated along with hers. At last she reached the ladies’ room and scurried past people to the last stall. She darted inside, closed the door, and leaned her aching head against the cool metal.

Oh, God, let this be a dream.

But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t turn back today’s clock any more than she could have turned it back eighteen years ago and made a different choice on that awful day.

THREE

Noah found Laney in her darkened classroom slumped at her desk with damp paper towels pressed to her forehead. He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her as he approached. “The children are gone for the day, but Ellen has Briana. They’re playing a game.”

“I know.” She looked up, fathoms of pain in her shadowed gaze. “She’s a good friend. She’s been giving me some space to process.”

“Is it working?” He knew the answer before he asked. This woman needed an old-fashioned bawl session, but he’d leave that to Ellen Kline’s sturdy shoulder. It was not a good idea for him to put his arms around Laney Thompson. He had to maintain professional distance, even in his thoughts. Too bad that plan wasn’t working very well.

Laney wadded the paper towels and chucked the ball across the room. She made the wastebasket.

“Good arm,” he said.

“Are they still here?”

“The FBI? Yes, they’ve commandeered a meeting room. Agent Burns said to tell you he’d have someone outside your apartment all night.”

Laney snorted. “So you’re his errand boy now? I suppose he shared that information so that I won’t call the cops on his agent.”

Noah sent her a wry smile. “He plays it close to the vest.”

“A bit too close.” She told him what Briana had confessed to Agent Burns about noticing a man in a suit lurking outside the playground just before the end of second and third grade recess.

He rubbed his chin. “That fits with the timeline for the first appearance of the backpack.”

Laney pressed a hand to her chest. “I hope this is finally a break in the case, but I’m not holding my breath. Agent Burns wasn’t in charge of the team when Gracie went missing, but he was there, throwing his weight around. They didn’t find anything then. Why should I believe results will be different now?”

“A hot new lead can sometimes break a cold case.”

Laney leaned back in her chair, her gazed fixed on him. Noah shifted his stance and looked around the room. If décor was a reflection of personality, this room did Laney justice. Everything from the skipping hippos stenciled on the wall to the bright construction paper flowers edging the bulletin board spoke of warmth and energy. This was a great room for mentally and physically challenged kids to find safe stimulation, as well as hearty doses of encouragement.

“Why do I get the feeling you know a lot about criminal investigations?” She asked the question Noah wished he hadn’t invited with his careless remark.

He sent her a casual smile. “A hobby of mine.”

Her eyes widened. “You investigate crimes in your spare time?”

“I meant that it’s an interest.” Beads of moisture sprang up beneath the collar of his polo shirt. How close was that kernel of truth to telling a lie? “I’ve got a suggestion,” he hurried on. “It’s Friday tomorrow. Why don’t you and Briana take the day off? Then you’ll have the whole weekend to stay home and regroup. You probably have people to contact.”

“My parents.”

“Of course. Maybe by Monday things will have cooled down here. And maybe we’ll even have a dirtbag in a suit behind bars.”

“How I hope so!” She rose. “Thank you.” She came around the desk and touched his arm. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“I’ll check on you, at least by phone, every day.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Her smile emerged and did amazing things to his insides.

“Let me walk you to your car. We can pick up Briana on the way.”

They collected the little girl, and the child slipped one hand into her mother’s and took Noah’s with the other. The simple intimacy felt too right to be comfortable. By the time Noah waved Laney and Briana off toward home, he was sweating in earnest, and not from the balmy weather.

He returned to the office, where Miss Aggie was closing up shop.

“You did well today,” she said.

“Thanks. So did you.”

She walked to the door, then turned and lasered him with a look. “But remember, some gains are worth great risk. Don’t screw up your chance at a future because of the past.”

She whisked away, leaving Noah with his mouth open. What did she mean by that remark? Had some little birdie with a sheriff’s badge been twittering in her ear, or was his attraction to Laney as obvious as his efforts to keep her at arm’s length?

Noah undid a button on his shirt and retired to the inner office, where he got on the phone. “Have you been talking out of turn, Lindoll?” he said as soon as Hank came on the line.

“Huh?”

“Did you tell my secretary who I was?”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t told a soul, but I’m tempted to spill the beans to Laney Thompson. She could use your services right now.”

“Nothing doing. I’m retired and into my second career, which I like very much, thank you. Besides, she’s got you on her side.”

The sheriff snorted. “Fat lot of good that’ll do her when my people are shut out of the investigation. Information is a one-way street with this Burns, except for something he deems ‘local’ enough for us to know.”

“And you think I’d fare any better? You saw how we get along.”

“Must be a story there, eh?” The man gave a dry chuckle.

“Later. Maybe. Right now, I’m calling to see if anything more came of the interviews your guys conducted. Is there anything I need to know to protect my students and staff?”

Several heartbeats passed. Noah’s internal antennae perked up. There was something, but Hank must not be sure if it was significant or not.

“We do have one suspicious circ,” the sheriff finally said.

“Suspicious circumstance? Involving who?”

“Glen Crocker, a local electrician, has been missing for a couple of days.”

Noah pursed his lips. “The timing would be right for a perp who needed to go somewhere and get that backpack.”

The sheriff sighed. “I’d hate to see this turn out to be a local guy. Could be Glen’s just skipped out on his family, which is bad enough. Let me look up the report. My deputy got this lead at the school from the guy’s son and interviewed the wife at home.”

Noah doodled with an automatic pencil while he listened to papers rustle at the other end. “Glen must be Sam Crocker’s dad. Sam’s in Mrs. Link’s fifth grade class.”

“You sure know your students…and their families. That’s part of what makes you a good principal, but paying attention to people also makes you an outstanding investigator.”

“Get off it, Hank.” Noah stabbed the pencil point into the pad.

“All right, but I’m just saying. Ah, here it is.” A desk chair creaked in the background. “According to little Sam, his daddy left for a job day before yesterday, and the kid hasn’t seen him since. My deputy talked to the mom, and she didn’t know where her husband was, either. Didn’t seem too surprised Glen took off, which is why she hadn’t reported him missing.” Hank snorted. “Must’ve been problems in the marriage.”

“That’s too bad.” Noah shook his head. “Especially for little Sam. Any personal effects gone from this guy’s home?”

“His Chevy Impala’s gone, but he didn’t grab any of his clothes or belongings. Doesn’t mean he didn’t take a hike of his own free will, so maybe this has nothing to do with our sicko on the loose. Glen’s been a citizen in good standing around here for a decade, but I’ve initiated inquiries about him prior to coming to Cottonwood Grove.”

“Sounds good. And I’ve got something for you that I’ll bet Burns hasn’t gotten around to sharing.” Noah gave the sheriff the information Laney had shared about the man in the suit watching kids on the playground.

“Hmm. The description doesn’t match Crocker. Thanks for the lead though.”

“And you’re going to call me if you find out anything interesting?” The doodles became larger and darker.

Hank laughed. “Do you really want me to, Mr. Principal? I can practically feel the investigator salivating.”

The lead on the end of the pencil snapped. “Just call me.”

“Will do.” The sheriff hung up, still chuckling.

Was it really too much to ask to be kept in the loop about something that could affect a whole school full of children in his care? Noah snatched up a fistful of paperwork Miss Aggie had left for him to sign. Taking part in the investigation was the last thing on his mind. It was!

Laney struggled through the evening at home in their apartment. She and Briana did the regular things—homework, a select amount of TV time, supper, a bedtime book—but everything felt odd and ill-fitting, as if ordinary had skewed off its axis. By the time Bree knelt at her bedside in her pink princess pajamas for prayers, Laney’s headache had morphed into Goliath stomping through her brain. At least she’d managed to give Briana a normal evening.

“…and, Jesus, remember that I’m still waiting for a daddy. And please help Mama to get her real smile back…”

Laney tuned in to her daughter’s conversation with the Lord.

“…and not be sad about her sister and not be so a-scared. Amen.”

Then Briana hopped up and threw her arms around Laney. She squeezed her daughter extra tight. What a reminder that kids were more perceptive than adults realized. She hadn’t done as great with her stick-to-routine plan as she’d thought.

Laney tucked Briana under the covers. “Would you like to talk about what happened today?”

Her daughter shook her head, a peaceful smile on the heart-shaped face that was a miniature of her own. “I talked to God. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Laney kissed Briana’s forehead. “I’ll count on it, then.”

Briana settled in with a contented sigh. “I think I’m real close to getting my daddy,” she murmured.

Laney’s pulse jumped, but she didn’t answer, just shut off the bedroom light and left the door ajar. She didn’t have the heart to discourage her little girl with the information that her mother had no daddy material on her social calendar.

Then she went through the apartment and checked the security of every window and the front door. Locked up tight. In the bathroom, she downed a couple of painkillers. The phone rang, and she hurried to the living room. Her fingers hesitated over the receiver. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. That monster wouldn’t dream of calling her, would he?

Taking a deep breath, she picked up. “H-hello?”

“Laney, it’s Noah. You sound shaky.”

Laney sank onto her couch. “It’s terrible being afraid to find out who’s on the other end of a phone call. Briana and I are doing fine. I just put her to bed after a dull evening. No indication of anything out of the ordinary.” She injected all the lightness she could muster into her words. If only he were sitting here in her living room, she might feel some of it. What a pitiful creature she was to pine after someone who saw only another staff member.

“Have you called your parents yet?”

“That’s next on the agenda.”

“Well, then, I’d better let you get to it. I’m here if you need anything.”

A picture of him holding her appeared in her mind’s eye, but she squelched it. “Thanks. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome. Hang in there.”

The line went dead, and Laney cradled the receiver in her hand. She dreaded the next conversation as much as she needed it. Her parents would be devastated that the nightmare had returned. Too bad they’d moved away from St. Cloud, Minnesota, a few months ago for Dad to take a high-paying job as a vice president for a big corporation. Laney punched in their Louisville, Kentucky, number.

The phone had scarcely begun to ring when a familiar voice said hello.

“Hi, Mom, it’s me.”

“Oh, sweetie, we were about to call you.”

The tears in her mother’s voice told Laney she wasn’t first with the news to her parents. “I suppose you’ve heard from Supervisory Special Agent Justin Burns.”

“We just got off the phone with him.” Her dad’s voice came from another extension. “He said you received a threat.”

“If you call finding Gracie’s backpack on the school playground after recess a threat, then yes. I took it that way.”

“Does the little Bree-bee know?” His voice dripped concern.

“I could hardly keep it from her. The whole town is in an uproar. Principal Ryder put the entire school on alert and sent informative letters home with the kids for their parents.”

“Sounds like your principal knew what to do,” her mother put in. “How’s Briana taking the news? Maybe we shouldn’t have decided not to tell her about Grace. Look what’s—”

“Loretta, there’s no use second-guessing ourselves now.” Her father’s voice took command. “We agreed it was best she not be told until she was older. How could we know this maniac would force our hands?”

“Mom, Dad, don’t worry about it,” Lainie said. “If anything, Bree is calmer than I am. She’s convinced God is guarding us, and Noah Ryder’s his helper. I wish I had half her confidence.” A sour laugh spurted between her lips.

“Honey, you have more faith than you think,” her mother said. “You wouldn’t be the strong woman, wonderful mom and terrific teacher you are without it.”

The affirmation tasted like a soothing tonic. “Thanks, Mom. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Still, it might not be a bad idea for me to hire you a bodyguard,” her dad put in.

Laney snickered. “Can you see me wandering around this little burg with some goon in my shadow? Briana and I are conspicuous enough as it is. So let’s talk about something else. Did Agent Burns indicate if they have any good leads?”

Her dad snorted. “Since when does that man indicate anything? He dictates and he interrogates.”

“Sounds like you talked to the same Burns I did.”

Laney’s chuckle joined with her parents’, but an ache in her throat followed. “I miss Gracie. I’d forgotten how cute and funny she could be. Then today, all this turmoil dredged up a whole bunch of Grace pictures in my mind. Like the way she’d scrunch up her nose and cross her eyes, Mom, when you served something for supper she didn’t like. Or how she’d sit in your lap, Dad, and kiss your cheek over and over for no reason at all.”

Her mother sniffled. “Do you remember how she’d follow you around so close, Laney? You’d practically trip over her every time you turned around.”

Laney’s heart turned to lead. She hated it now that she’d resented it then. “I remember.” The confession scraped against her voice box.

A half hour of tears and recollections later, the call ended, and Laney flopped her head back against the couch, utterly drained. If only she could go straight to bed. Hibernating until the monster who stole Gracie was caught sounded like a splendid plan. In her dreams. She forced herself off the soft cushions and took a seat in front of the computer desk on the other side of the living room. One more mission to accomplish before she called it a day.

While the computer booted up, she got a glass of apple juice from the kitchen. The phone rang again, and she picked it up without thought. It was a television news reporter asking for an interview. Laney politely but firmly declined.

Then she settled in front of the monitor. Her fingers danced across the keys. She’d run a search on Noah Ryder. There had to be something significant to know about him besides the scuttlebutt that he’d attended Southwest Minnesota State University in Marshall, Minnesota, for his teaching degree. Time for a different approach.

The search engine came up, and Laney typed in Noah Ryder. She discovered he had a Facebook account like she did. Would it be forward of her to submit a friend request to him, so their profile pages were accessible to each other? She decided against it for the moment.

She continued searching under Noah Ryder, but learned nothing she didn’t already know. A few other Noah Ryders came up that couldn’t possibly be him—wrong age, location, etc. Laney smothered a yawn. She should hit the sack. Yet the innuendos about Noah from Sheriff Lindoll and Agent Burns wouldn’t leave her alone.

She typed in a search under Ryder. The more general search would generate a vast array of hits, but she was going to check every one until she found something more about her enigmatic boss. This was desperate times.

A couple of pages of listings were connected to the moving company by that name. Then there were a few hits about a Ryder family tree, but these never mentioned a Noah on one of the branches. Finally, many pages into the search results, an intriguing article caught her eye—Investigator Unites Mother and Son After Dangerous Manhunt.

Laney clicked on the link and started reading, then slumped. The investigator mentioned in the headline was Franklin Ryder, not Noah. She read on anyway. The article involved a missing child. Not that an abusive husband and father snatching his son from the custodial mother was a new tale these days, but it sounded as if this dad was a devious piece of work who eluded law enforcement time after time…until Franklin Ryder, Private Investigator, took the case. In the photo that accompanied the article, a pretty young woman beamed for the camera as she cuddled a chubby, dark-haired boy.

“Nuts!” Laney exclaimed. She’d hoped for a picture of this whiz-bang investigator. She peered at the photo. Someone was walking away in the background. It was a side shot too grainy to identify the person, but there was something familiar about the stride and the confident set of the shoulders. And the man was a blond, like Noah.

Heart trip-hammering, Laney plugged in a search for Franklin Ryder. Page after page of articles came up. She had her confirmation on the first one. The man she knew as Principal Noah Ryder stared back at her from the screen.

Headache and exhaustion forgotten, Laney spent until the wee hours devouring news articles about Franklin Ryder. There were even videos. But news reports on the man abruptly ceased six years ago. Why had he suddenly given up investigating? And why change his name? Wasn’t he proud of his work that restored the lost to their families, or at least got them justice and closure?

The media dubbed him a “relentless bloodhound” and “a kidnapper’s worst nightmare.” Excitement squeezed Laney’s chest as she continued reading stories and quotes from people who saw him in action. “It’s downright eerie the way Ryder can put himself inside the skin of a kidnapper and figure out what he’s going to do almost before he does it,” said a law officer involved in one of the cases.

Why hide from a reputation like that? If the cops weren’t delivering on a missing persons case, Franklin Ryder was the guy to hire, especially if the victim was a child. Franklin was passionate about kids, just like the Noah that Laney knew. There was way more to Principal Ryder than anyone in this town had a clue about, except maybe for Sheriff Lindoll. The man’s remarks and reactions today suddenly made perfect sense. And somewhere along the trail of Noah’s career as an investigator, he and Agent Burns had clearly locked horns.

Finally, Laney rose and stretched, but she wore a smile on her face. Hope had gained ascendancy over fear. She’d found an answer that couldn’t be more clearly from God if He’d etched the message on her forehead.

Whatever it took, whatever it cost, she was going to hire Noah/Franklin Ryder to find the monster that killed Gracie and threatened Briana.

Well before time for school to start, Noah sat in his office on Friday morning going over his notes about yesterday’s incident. Why did he write these things down anyway? And why couldn’t he put the notes away and concentrate on school business? Old habits died hard, but then, he was responsible for the safety of everyone in this school. As long as he kept that motive in the forefront, he’d be all right.

A rap sounded on his door. “It’s open,” he called. Probably Miss Aggie, miffed to discover he’d arrived ahead of her. But his visitor was most decidedly not his angular administrative assistant. The slender female in form-fitting jeans and a tailored aqua blouse walked toward his desk, and his mouth went dry. “Laney? What are you doing here?”

“I’m a desperate woman in need of your expertise.” She laid a small stack of news reports printed off the Internet in front of him.

Noah’s heart leaped against his ribs. He kept his gaze averted as he forced his composure back into place. Finally, he allowed himself to look up. Laney’s pleading blue eyes clawed at his resolve. He pushed the papers back toward her. “What’s all this about?”

Her nostrils flared. “I called Sheriff Lindoll this morning and asked him about these.”

Noah groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Here’s what he said,” she continued. “I quote. ‘I’m not going to deny your research, Ms. Thompson. If it is him, it’d be great to have someone in on the action who can tweak those federal guys’ noses.’” She planted her palms on his desk and leaned toward him, bringing their faces inches apart. “You can tweak noses or cut them off for all I care, as long as you catch a child killer. I can pay you whatever you want…or my dad can, at least.”

Noah leaned back in his chair, gaining distance. “I can’t do that anymore.” Each word came out clipped and razor-thin.

Laney drew herself up tall. “Your real name is Franklin Ryder. You’re an ace investigator. What do you mean you can’t do what you’re so great at doing?”

He shook his head. “My real name is Noah Franklin Ryder, Jr. To differentiate between me and my dad, I grew up being called Franklin. By the time I quit the P.I. business my dad had passed on, so I reverted to Noah and embarked on a new career. I love being a school principal, and I meant what I said. I can’t go back to what I did before.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Both.”

Something deflated in the woman before him, and the sight cut deep. She sank into a chair. “Why not?”

“I’m not too proud to admit that I’m washed up as an investigator.” He frowned and studied his desktop, pain surging through him. “Something happened half a dozen years back.”

“When the news articles about you ceased.”

“That’d be the time. Look,” he squared his gaze with hers, “I won’t go into detail, but the wheels came off on an investigation and an innocent person died.”

“Was it your fault?’

“I ask myself that every day.”