Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

other hand and was holding it near the door.
    What the hell?
    Then . . . all hell broke loose and Ford had no idea what was going on. Joseph kicked in the door, then dropped to one knee, his arm coming up at the last moment, pointing the gun into the garage. And then he fired. And so did the woman.
    Mom . His mother was in that garage. With Doug .
    Ford yanked at the SUV’s door, welcoming the bracing bite of the cold wind as the door opened. He threw himself forward, landing in the snow. He was fully awake now.
    ‘Mom!’ he screamed. ‘ Mom! ’ He pushed himself up and lurched forward, running on feet that felt like they were being stabbed by a million knives. He didn’t care. Panic propelled him and he charged the door into the garage, only to be stopped by Deacon.
    Deacon grabbed his arm and pulled him back. ‘Your mom’s okay. Doug’s dead, but your mom’s okay.’
    Ford pushed in front of the woman with the rifle. She stepped back, allowing him to look inside. Horrified, he did.
    Doug had been hit by the gunfire, but his mother was okay. She’s okay . She’s not hurt . Joseph had pushed Doug’s body off her and was now kissing her like he owned her, and Ford felt the hackles rise on his neck. He wanted to yank the federal agent away from his mother, but she was kissing him back so Ford stayed where he was.
    Deacon clasped his shoulder. ‘She’s all right.’
    ‘Oh my God. Deacon.’ Ford’s knees went wobbly and he started to fall. Deacon grabbed one of his arms, the woman who’d fired the rifle the other. They helped him to a folding chair that had been positioned in the snow.
    ‘This is Agent Coppola, Ford. She fired one of the shots that freed your mom.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Ford said hoarsely.
    ‘You’re welcome.’ Coppola crouched beside him, studying his eyes. ‘You okay?’
    ‘Just woke up when I heard the guns,’ Ford muttered.
    ‘Doug drugged him again,’ Deacon explained.
    ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You have a right to look hungover then. Hell of a way to wake up.’ She rose, then pointed behind a laptop which had been set up on a makeshift table made from a stack of plastic storage boxes.
    The boxes had been in the back of Deacon’s SUV when they’d stopped to get Tasha after springing Ford out of the hospital. Ford had thought his mother might need the comfort of petting the dog once she came out of the bunker, since there would be no horses for her to brush.
    ‘I’ll put Lynch in the back seat of one of these cruisers,’ Coppola told Deacon. ‘We’ll have to figure out how to get him back to Baltimore.’
    From behind the stack of boxes, she dragged a man to his feet. He was cuffed, hands behind his back. His butt was covered with snow, his shirt with dried blood.
    Ford’s eyes widened. ‘Hal? What the . . . Hal?’ It was Hal Lynch. He’d been a friend of his mother’s for years. He’d been a friend to Ford as well, taking him to ball games, playing catch with him when he’d been small. Hal?
    ‘Seems like Hal is Doug’s stepfather,’ Deacon said.
    Ford’s eyes widened further. ‘How? I didn’t even know he had a stepson.’
    ‘He’s got two stepsons,’ Deacon told him as Coppola escorted Hal to a police car, ‘and one biological son. It’s quite a story, but I’ll give you a day to rest up before I give you all the details. Just sit for now.’
    Ford obeyed, staying that way until his mother appeared through the door of Beckett’s garage, walking on her own, Joseph Carter’s arm tight around her.
    Ford came to his feet, watching every step she took. When his mother saw him, she threw her arms around his neck. ‘They got Doug. We’re okay.’
    ‘They shot at you.’
    ‘At Doug. I don’t have a scratch on me. I’m fine, I’m really fine.’
    And then everyone started to talk at once. Deacon had told him that Clay had found Kimberly and Cole Lynch, Doug’s little brother. Cole had led them to Doug’s house, where he’d shown them a number of hiding places. In one of them was Pamela MacGregor who was now on her way to a Baltimore hospital, suffering from exposure and extreme dehydration.
    Kimberly had been arrested, but she was at a hospital now too. Doug had stabbed her the night he’d kidnapped them. They’d found her sleeping in his condo, in his mother’s bed, feverish and exhausted. And damned if Ford didn’t feel sorry for her.
    But nobody needs to know that but me . Because that’s just damned pathetic .
    Everyone had been