The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 1-5 - Catherine Coulter [321]
She was mewling deep in her throat. She threw back the blankets, looking from him to her mother.
“Get away from him, Em. I want you to come over here to me. I’m going to tie him up and take him to the sheriff. Then neither of us will ever have to be afraid again. I know you understand. Come here now, Em.”
The woman raised the gun. She said more to herself than to him, “You’re very big. You’re not going to let me even get near you, are you? No, the instant I try to tie you up, you’re going to attack me. It won’t ever be over, not until you’re dead. I have no choice, none at all.”
“Sure you do. You don’t want to shoot me. I didn’t kidnap her. I saved her.”
“Shut up! No, I won’t have you lurking about in the shadows, hanging over our lives ever again. I’ll do it. I know I can do it. You’re evil. You’re a monster. Oh God, you abused her, didn’t you? I’d prayed and prayed that the kidnapper hadn’t hurt her, but you did, didn’t you? You don’t deserve to live. Em, come here, now. What’s wrong with you? Come here so I can make you safe again.” She steadied the gun. It was trained right on his chest.
Suddenly, the child threw herself in front of him, her small hands grabbing at his knees. She yelled, “No, Mama, it’s Ramsey! He saved me. Don’t hurt him!”
Both of them froze. Both of them looked into each other’s eyes.
She spoke before he did. “Now, Em, you know he took you away from me. He’s using you, he’s—”
“No, I didn’t kidnap her. I haven’t hurt her. But I will tell you that this is the first time she’s spoken since I found her in the forest more than a week ago.” Slowly, he came down on his haunches, his thigh screaming from the exertion, but he ignored it.
“Your name’s Em? Is that short for Emily?”
“No, Emma,” she whispered. She was wearing one of his gray T-shirts, washed so many times it was softer than goat leather. She turned to the woman. “Mama, it’s all right. Ramsey saved me. Really.” She put her hand on his shoulder. She said again in that small tired voice, “He saved me, Mama. He wouldn’t let anybody hurt me again. He gets really mad whenever he even thinks about it.”
The woman slowly lowered the pistol, but he could tell she didn’t want to. “Who are you?”
He picked up Emma and rose, aware that his leg wanted very much to give out under him. “Forgive me, but I’ve got to sit down. My leg hurts like the devil.”
The Detonics pistol jerked up again. “Don’t you move, damn you. Put her down.”
6
HE IGNORED HER. She wouldn’t shoot him now. He was holding her daughter. He carried Emma to the sofa and sat down. Only then did he say to her, “I’ve got lots to tell you. My name’s Ramsey Hunt. You can trust me. Please.”
“Give me my daughter. Let her go.”
He set Emma on her feet, and she ran to her mother. The woman came down on her knees. He watched her as she crushed Emma to her. Tears streaked down her face. She kissed Emma, all over her face, ran her hands all over her, smoothing her hands over her hair, squeezing her until she squeaked.
Emma finally pulled back. She lifted her hand to her mother’s hair and lightly patted it. “I’m okay, Mama, really. Ramsey saved me. He took care of me. You look like GI Joe. I like those black gloves.”
The woman laughed as she pulled off the black leather gloves. “I’m your mama again and not a soldier.” He watched Emma lace her fingers through her mother’s. He saw the close-clipped nails, several broken off. The back of her hands were red and chafed from the cold.
He felt incredibly relieved. And suddenly very tired. He sat back, stretching his leg out in front of him, watching them. Finally, when she was sitting across from him, Emma in her lap, held tightly against her chest, the woman raised her head and said, “Thank you. I’m sorry I nearly killed you. If I had, it would have been wrong.” She sounded only mildly sorry. He didn’t mind. He could imagine something of what she’d gone through, what she’d thought.
“Yes, very wrong. I’m glad that Emma isn’t mute. But you know, we’ve gotten along just fine. She draws really well.