The Target

three inches from the receiver.

    "Yeah, I heard."

    There was a good twenty more seconds of silence, then, "Molly? Emma's safe?"

    "Hello, Dad. Yes, I've got her with me. I found her. She's fine."

    "I don't understand. I haven't heard a word from my people. Do the Denver police know you've got Emma back?"

    "Yes, they know. They don't like the fact that I got her back without them."

    "Tell me."

    She took a deep breath. "You know I went looking when the cops and the FBI didn't get anywhere. I would have thought your people would know. Well, I found her. A guy had saved her and I came upon both of them. She's safe. We're going to stay out of sight for a while."

    "There's no reason to, Molly. Come home. You can bet I'll protect the both of you."

    "No, not yet. There are a lot more people involved than just a single kidnapper. I don't want to take any chances. I'm going to keep Emma hidden as long as those people are still out there and looking for her." Her knuckles were white she was clutching the phone so tightly. "It's not a simple kidnapping, Dad."

    "But they got a ransom note."

    "Yes, but that ransom note arrived after I already had Emma back. It was a lie. Do you understand any of this?"

    "No, but I'll speak to Buzz about it. We've already discussed the possibility of some enemy of mine being involved. But the important thing is you've got Emma back. I'm tremendously relieved." He sighed. She could picture him running his fingers lightly through his hair, never enough to mess it up. "We've got nothing as of yet. But I don't like the feel of this at all. How many people have you seen?"

    "Probably four different men, but we've managed to get away from them. We're safely tucked away now."

    "All right. I'll speak to Buzz Carmen immediately. He's still in Denver. How exactly did you find out about these other men?"

    "I knew they were following so I pulled off at an exit. When they went by, I got the license. I checked with a friend who found out for me that the truck was reportedly stolen from a farmer in Loveland, Colorado. The wife reported it; then the husband said he'd sold it. It sounds like maybe he did sell it-to the kidnappers. I phoned in the license plate to the Denver PD and the FBI. I'd appreciate your checking as well, Dad, then I'd know it got done right." She gave him the license and the name of the farmer.

    "I've got it. I don't suppose you'll tell me who gave you this information?"

    "I can't."

    He sighed. "Very well. Come home, Molly."

    "I'll call tomorrow. Emma's just fine. Don't worry. Those men won't find us."

    "About this man who found Emma. Who is he? How can you be sure you can trust him?"

    "If we can't trust him, Dad, then it's all over. Believe me, he's the most trustworthy man in the world. Tomorrow, Dad." She pushed the Off button and laid the phone on the table.

    "At least you don't call him Godfather."

    She smiled at him. It was a charming smile, warm and full. She had a wide mouth and very white teeth. His father was a dentist. Ramsey always noticed a person's teeth. His old man would really like what he saw.

    Ramsey liked that smile, too. It was almost as if she was ready to stop being afraid. She said, "Mason Lord is very good-looking. He's black Irish: fair skinned, hair like ink, straight and thick, just a dabbling of gray at his temples. His eyes are such a startling blue, women just stare at him. He doesn't appreciate having a grown daughter, much less a grandchild, but he copes. My mother was the one who told me I should call him by his first name, but I couldn't get the hang of it. Neither could he. I remember thinking Mason jar every time I used his first name. When I told him that, he threw up his hands, laughed, and said to forget it. He's been Dad for a very long time, actually since I was eight years old and moved away with my mother."

    "I've never thought of Mason Lord as having human qualities, like a sense of humor. You don't look a thing like him."

    "No, I'm the picture of my grandmother. She was an actress in the fifties. Never got very far with it because she wasn't beautiful or very photogenic. Boy, but could she act. It turned out not to be enough."

    "You're far from plain, Molly."

    She just smiled at him, that same gorgeous smile. "You should see my mother. Now she's what you'd call a looker. She's fifty-five now and still a head-turning beauty. Both she and Father were appalled, I think, when I turned out the way I did."

    She honestly