Page 111 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

But why was Marla so careless? What was going on with her? The crime-scene investigators—under Tallulah Jefferson’s command—had scoured Tanya’s apartment. They’d found hairs and bits of fingernails—clipped pieces—that didn’t seem to match the victim’s. So whose were they? Someone Tanya knew? DNA tests would take weeks to get results, sometimes longer, and Paterno knew he didn’t have that much time.

He needed answers now. He needed to find Marla Cahill. Before she killed anyone else.

Before she killed her own grandson.

Cissy stood at the kitchen window. She’d watched the sun rise and glisten through the raindrops. She’d heard birds twittering and the groan and hum of their new furnace kicking into gear. She’d smelled the coffee Jack was brewing and felt the warm mug he pressed in her hand.

“Ciss?”

“What’s he doing right now? He should be asleep in his bed. We should be waiting for him to wake up. What do you think he’s doing?”

“Don’t torture yourself.”

“How can you stand there and not care!” she burst out.

Jack swallowed. “I care.”

Cissy sank into one of the kitchen chairs. “I can’t do anything. I can’t think. I just want to go to sleep till they find him, safe and sound, but I can’t sleep!”

“Paterno will call us as soon as he knows something. Or, the FBI.”

“What if we never find him? What if we never know?”

“Don’t think like that,” Jack said sternly.

In truth, Jack was beside himself. His fury and fear were bone deep. If it turned out Marla was behind this, he planned to strangle her conniving neck himself!

The minutes crept by. He made toast for himself and Cissy. He practically had to browbeat her to get her to eat anything. In truth, he could scarcely choke down food himself, but he was determined to keep up his strength. There was a showdown ahead, and he planned to be ready for it.

It was barely nine when the feds arrived. They began to systematically set up for the expected kidnapping ransom call. Cissy and Jack hung back, watching and staying out of the way. Hearing another car screech to a halt in front of their house, Cissy rushed forward.

“Beej?” she whispered.

“Wait…,” Jack said, trying to stop her as she flew outside.

To Cissy’s shattering disappointment, she saw Jack’s father, Jonathan, and his brother, J.J., climb from Jonathan’s car and hurry their way through the rain. Cissy sagged against Jack, who held her tightly as they came inside.

“Is he back?” Jonathan asked, white faced. “Have they found him?” Jack had called his father the night before to tell him about Tanya’s murder and B.J.’s abduction.

Jack shook his head, and J.J., normally remote and completely self-involved, stared through wide, stretched eyes, as if looking at a harrowing vista only he could see. They both gave the feds a wide berth.

“Where’s Jannelle?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know, son. I just called J.J. and came over. God Almighty.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Have you had a ransom call yet?”

“No,” Cissy repeated faintly.

“Why else would someone take him?” Jonathan said, as if he were puzzling it out himself. “Has to be ransom.”

They all moved to the kitchen, and Jonathan sat heavily onto the chair Cissy had just vacated. J.J. stood by the back door, gazing outside. Jack spooned more coffee grounds into the filter and watched the pot fill.

“You have to pay the ransom,” J.J. said in a low voice. “Keep the police and FBI out of it. That never works.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Jack said.

“The kidnapper killed Tanya,” J.J. reminded. “He’ll kill again.”

Tears of fear filled Cissy’s eyes.

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