“I’m sure you’re much too anxious to eat anything,” Tara guessed.
Sloan neither confirmed or denied it. Instead, she stood up and stepped over to Tara’s seat. “Would you hold Jake a minute? I need to use the restroom.”
Taking her agreement for granted, Sloan placed the baby in her arms. Tara opened her mouth to protest, but Sloan was already moving away. Looking down at the sleeping infant, Tara recoiled a little, half-expecting it would start shrieking any second. But the tiny thing continued to sleep. She eyed it warily, holding herself stiffly.
A little fist emerged from the blanket folds, wagged a couple times, then settled against his chest. Watching it, Tara gradually noticed the baby’s fingernails, exact in every detail yet so diminutive. Tentatively, she touched one and discovered the softness of his skin.
The baby sighed in his sleep. Unconsciously, Tara smiled at the little bubble that formed between his lips. The longer she looked at him, the more fascinated she became with this miniature version of a person. Gently, so as not to disturb his sleep, she smoothed her fingers over the mass of dark, nearly black hair.
“Your granddaddy’s hair was this very same color,” she murmured. “I wish he was here to see what a precious little boy you are.”
When Sloan returned only moments later, Tara was surprised by her own reluctance to surrender the baby into his mother’s care. Her arms felt oddly empty without the infant’s slight weight on them. It wasn’t something Tara could explain, not even to herself. Yet she felt a trace of longing when she saw Sloan cuddling the infant close. Deliberately, she turned and stared out the cabin window at the passing clouds.
Trey walked the feed salesman to the door of the ranch office and saw him out. Yet he couldn’t remember a single word they had exchanged when he turned from it. Trey couldn’t shake off the image of Sloan on some private jet, bound for a foreign country, taking his son with her.
“Trey.” The familiar sound of his mother’s secretary, Donna Vernon, reached out to claim his attention. “I just put a call through to Jessy from Ed Walters. She wants you to join her.”
“Thanks.” His stride instantly lengthened to carry him to his mother’s office. Laredo was lounging on a desk corner when Trey walked in. Glancing up, Jessy said, “Trey’s here, Ed. Go ahead and
tell us what you’ve learned so far.”
“First off, we confirmed that Rutledge left Fort Worth on one of his jets.” The male voice came from the speaker phone. “According to the ground crew, he had no passengers with him and definitely no women. So I think you can put that concern aside for now. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much about what’s going on at the Slash R. We were able to zero in on the frequency Rutledge’s security guards are using. As Quint suggested, they seemed to be watching for someone, but no names were used, just code words, which is typical. Then, about twenty or thirty minutes ago, it all came to a stop, and the order was given for everybody to return to their assigned posts.”
“That’s it?” Trey frowned in surprise. “No explanation? Just the order?”
“There was only one remark made along those lines. Maybe it’s something, and maybe it’s nothing, but one of the guards was heard to ask, ‘Where was she found?’”
“She.” So they were looking for a woman, Trey realized. “What was he told?”
“That it was none of his damned business. All the chatter has been limited strictly to scheduled check-ins since then. We’ll keep digging for more information on this,” the investigator assured them. “In the meantime, we have all of Rutledge’s planes under observation. I thought by now I’d be able to give you Rutledge’s destination, but we haven’t obtained it yet. I’ll call you when we do.”
“What kind of surveillance do you have in place at Rutledge’s ranch?” Laredo asked.
“Just a video camera, and I’m not sure how useful that is,” Ed Walters admitted. “Too many of the vehicles going in and out have tinted windows, which makes it almost impossible to see who’s inside. Since there appears to be a chance your wife might take the child and leave the country, we’ll have to come up with a better way to monitor who comes and who goes. Short of following every vehicle that leaves, I’m not sure what that will be yet, but I’m on it.”
“Thanks, Ed,” Jessy said. “Keep in touch.”
“You’ll be the first to know anything I do,” he promised and hung up.
A heavy silence followed, weighted by all the questions that remained unanswered. Pushed by the edgy impatience swirling through him, Trey swung away from the desk and headed for the door. “I can’t wait around here all day for the phone to ring.”
“Stay right here at headquarters. And make sure your cell phone’s on.” Jessy told him
“I will.” The grudging agreement was issued as he walked out the door. Laredo stared after him a moment, then glanced at Jessy, one eyebrow lifting. “If there was ever anyone who needed to chop some wood, it’s Trey.”
“I know,” Jessy said and sighed. The sound had the same troubled edge to it that was in her son’s eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sleek executive jet streaked above a scattering of clouds, its heading set on a northerly course. Inside the gleaming chrome-and wood-adorned cabin, Max occupied his time by reviewing a raft of monthly reports, dictating correspondence, and placing a few phone calls. Yet his thoughts never strayed far from the race he was in.
Somewhere behind him stood the Colorado Rockies, and twenty-odd thousand feet below him the broken plains of Wyoming. Just ahead was Montana. With each mile, his tension grew. Defeat was something Max refused to acknowledge, even now, when time and distance were against him. His plan was too perfect; he wasn’t about to abandon it until all hope of success ran out.
In front of him, the cockpit door swung open and the shirtsleeved copilot stepped through and made eye contact with Rutledge.
“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Rutledge.” A bob of his head accompanied the apology.
Immediately sensing the man had something of importance to tell him, Max stiffened, bracing himself for bad news. “What is it?” he said brusquely.