Miracle at Colts Run Cross. Joanna Wayne

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      “I haven’t talked to Langston, but this is very important, Becky. Do you know where the boys are? Are they with you?”

      Her blood turned to ice. “What’s going on, Nick?”

      “Are the boys with you?” he asked again with new urgency in his voice.

      “No. I’m at the church. I came to pick them up after their practice for the Christmas pageant, but they’re not here. They never showed up.”

      Nick let loose with a string of muttered curses. “Are you by yourself?”

      “Yes, but if you have anything to say, just…”

      “I got a phone call a few minutes ago. It was from a man claiming he has the boys with him.”

      “Who?”

      “I don’t know. All he said was that he’d call back and that I’d best be ready to deal. I think they’ve been abducted.”

      No. Her sons couldn’t be kidnapped. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function. Couldn’t breathe.

      “We have to find them, Nick.”

      “We will. Just don’t fall apart on me, Becky. We can’t make any mistakes.”

      But she was falling apart, more with every agonizing heartbeat. “They’ll be afraid. He might…” God, she couldn’t let her mind go there or she’d never get through this. “We have to get them back at once. If it takes every penny either of us has, I don’t care. I just want David and Derrick back.”

      “I’m leaving the hospital now. I’ll meet you at Jack’s Bluff as soon as I can get there.”

      “Langston can fly up and get you.”

      “I can get a chartered flight even quicker. Now go home and stay there in case the man calls you.”

      She swallowed hard. “I’ll call Zach.”

      “I don’t want the sheriff’s department in on this, Becky. Not them or any other law enforcement agency, at least until after we talk.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous, Nick. Zach can put out an AMBER Alert and have everyone in the state looking for this madman. And for the record, you don’t get to call all the shots, even if it is your fault they’re missing.”

      “Don’t start with the blame, Becky, not now.” His voice broke. He was hurting and probably as scared as she was.

      But this was his fault. He was the one in the news, his name and face all over the TV and every newspaper in the state. And it was him the abductor had called for a ransom.

      “The caller said that if we go to the cops, he’ll…”

      Nick stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished, though the meaning was crystal clear even in Becky’s traumatized mind. Nausea hit with a vengeance. She dropped the phone, stepped out of the car and threw up in the parking lot. Weak and unnerved, she finally leaned against the car and gulped in a steadying breath of brisk air.

      She would find out who took the twins, and whatever it took, she’d get them back. And heaven help Nick Ridgely if he got in her way.

      NICK SHIFTED again, trying to find a way to get comfortable in the four-man helicopter he’d hired to fly him directly to the ranch’s helipad. Pain shot through his neck and shoulders with each vibration, but no matter how bad it got, he wouldn’t go back on the pain meds. He needed his mind perfectly clear to deal with the situation.

      Becky had been quick to hurl the blame at him for the twins’ abduction. He couldn’t fault her for that. She’d always been determined to protect David and Derrick from the notoriety his career had brought him. She wanted them to have a normal life with solid values. She wanted them safe from the kind of sick person who had them now.

      According to the attending physician who’d protested his leaving the hospital, his career could be over. Strapped with the fears of the moment, even that seemed inconsequential.

      The pilot landed the helicopter approximately one hundred yards from the big house. Nick grabbed his quickly packed duffel bag, thanked the pilot and jumped out. He walked quickly, breaking into a jog as he neared the house.

      He’d come by helicopter before. Then the boys had been watching, and the minute the chopper landed they’d raced to greet him. Their absence now sucked the breath from his lungs. By the time he reached the house, Bart and Matt were standing on the porch, their faces more drawn than he’d ever seen them.

      He hoped Becky had kept this from the police, but he knew she wouldn’t keep it from her family. Nor would he have wanted that. The Collingsworth brothers, the fearsome four as he’d called them when he’d first started dating Becky, were a powerful squad, and he’d be glad to have them on his side.

      He put out his hand to shake Matt’s as he stepped on the wide front porch, and then his gaze settled on Becky. She was standing just inside the door, her silhouette backlit by the huge, rustic chandelier that dominated the foyer. She looked far more fragile than the last time he’d seen her, the day she’d told him she was through with being his wife.

      He ached to take her in his arms, needed that closeness now more than he’d ever needed it before. Her words of blame shot through his mind, and he held back. Rejection from her might annihilate the tenuous hold he had on his own emotions.

      “Glad you made it so quickly,” Matt said, his voice level and his handshake firm, though the drawn look to his face and the jut of his jaw were clear indicators of his apprehension.

      Bart clapped Nick’s shoulder. “Have you heard any more from the abductor?”

      “Not a word.”

      “The family’s waiting inside,” Matt said. “We should join them.”

      Nick nodded. Becky had left the door by the time they entered. He followed Bart and Matt into the huge den. The family Collingsworth had gathered en masse—except for Langston’s daughter, Gina, and the ill Jeremiah—filling the comfortable sofas and chairs.

      Becky was standing near the hearth, and the heat from the blaze in the fireplace flushed her face. Her arms were pulled tight across her chest as if she were holding herself together. She looked at him questioningly, and his stomach rolled with a million unfamiliar emotions.

      “He hasn’t called back,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

      She started to shake, and he went to her, steadying her in the crook of his arm until she regrouped and pulled away.

      Zach stood. It was the first time Nick had seen him in his khaki deputy’s uniform, and he was struck with the added maturity the attire provided.

      Zach propped a booted foot on the hearth. “We need an action plan.”

      “I made a fresh pot of coffee,” Bart’s wife, Jaclyn, said. “I’ll get it.”

      Langston’s wife, Trish, handed their six-month-old son, Randy, off to his dad. “I’ll help.”

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