He nodded, and when he spoke, his voice short and completely unaccented, she knew he was even angrier than that.
“That’s right. I built my office over there, on the tree’s edges. My house isn’t too far from the Johnsons’ house, either.”
“So you know the area pretty well.”
“I’d say so.”
“Then get ready. You’re coming with me.”
Lucas shoved his chair away from the table, climbing to his feet in one swift motion. “Give me five minutes.”
Maria thought of the four-year-old, with his wide brown eyes and the soft golden-brown curls that made him appear so angelic, even when he was hip deep in trouble. She thought of him being scared and alone and with a stranger at Christmas. She thought of the snow, and how dangerous their small town could be.
And she thought of how, when she was in danger herself, Lucas was the one person she’d wanted to come save her.
“Make it two,” she called after her brother.
Lucas would do whatever he had to to reunite Liam with his family. Maria was sure of it.
5
Lucas had to work to convince both Tessa and Maria to stay behind at Ophelia.
Once Lucas agreed to head out with Sylvester, Tessa offered to join the search, too. Maria ran from the kitchen to the foyer, returning with her peacoat and Sylvester’s sheriff’s jacket.
According to Rick, who buzzed back with more details about the search parties being mobilized, there were at least five separate groups searching with very few leads. The snow had only picked up, and the car tracks went in a few directions, as if whoever took the boy was backtracking.
As sheriff, Sylvester had to join the search. No question about that. No one wanted to come out and say it, but he didn’t ask Lucas because of his familiarity with the mountainside of town. When they recovered the boy—and, for sure, they would—having Hamlet’s only doctor nearby might come in handy.
The women, of course, wanted to go and help, too, especially since the two men were heading right out. Considering both were well acquainted by now of the dark things that seemed to happen in the quaint and cozy village, nothing he said at first could put them off. Maria was determined and, since Sly didn’t seem to want to dissuade her from joining them, Lucas had to get his Tessa to agree first.
After taking her to the side and explaining that he had to do this, but he wouldn’t if he couldn’t
be sure that she was safe, Tessa said she would stay behind. The boy had to come first.
His sister gave up the fight following that. Forever a good hostess, she refused to leave Tessa alone in the house while she went off with Lucas and Sylvester.
As a final act of rebellion, though, she gave the sheriff a goodbye kiss that had Lucas grinding his teeth and Tessa hiding her amused grin by ducking her chin and letting her hair fall like a curtain in front of her expression.
Warning Sylvester that she’d be waiting for his buzz, Maria fetched gloves and scarves for both men and watched while they bundled up.
The sheriff took his cruiser. Sylvester offered to drive with Lucas, but Lucas declined. He trusted his Mustang—and his own driving skills—when it came to navigating Hamlet, especially toward the more remote mountainside of town.
Not that it seemed so remote tonight. When Lucas pulled up outside the Johnsons’ split-level house, all of the lights were on and there was a crowd of about seven waiting on the front lawn. He recognized all of them; each one was a Hamlet local, and a neighbor of the Johnsons. In the center of the throng stood Therese Johnson, pacing frantically as her sister stood at her shoulder, trying to calm her.
Just the sight of his car had a few of the heads turning. If it wasn’t for it being such a serious situation, Lucas knew he’d be the talk of the town for the rest of the holiday season. Right now, though, only a few murmurs erupted as he climbed out of his Mustang and, with Sly jogging up behind him, approached Therese.
“Mrs. Johnson—” began Sylvester.
Therese turned in Sylvester’s direction when she heard his voice, but her head whipped toward Lucas when she saw him standing there. Obviously, no one had told her that he was coming, but the look on her pretty face went from concerned and scared to worried with a hint of hope.
“Dr. De Angelis—Lucas. They took Liam. I don’t know what to do, but they have my son.”
A few years younger than Lucas, but still older than Maria, Therese Johnson was one of the girls he grew up with. He went to her wedding when she married Mike, and was her local doctor when she was pregnant with the twins. She met with a specialist outside of Hamlet, since the pregnancy was a difficult one, but he saw her at least once a week—and just as frequently after they were born since her kids, like most, were both walking disasters.
Only a few days before he left Hamlet, Lucas had to stitch up a large cut on Liam’s forehead when the four-year-old ran into a corner and split the thin skin over his eye. Lucas refused to let that be the last memory he had of the exuberant youngster.
“Don’t worry, Ter,” he said softly. There was steel in his tone, and promise in his clipped words. “We’re going to get him back.”