Catherine Coulter – FBI 3 The Target

When Ramsey awoke early in the morning, he thought about Emma’s nightmare, her flat dead words. Twine. He’d tied her with twine, as he would a package. He hadn’t needed rope. She was just a little girl.

Not that it mattered. If Ramsey could get his hands on that man, he would probably kill him. Would he send the man through the system, confident that he’d be punished as he should be? He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. And he should know. He walked to the other bedroom, stood quietly in the open doorway, watching Emma and Molly sleep.

“Ramsey?” A little whisper of a voice.

“Good morning, Emma. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh yes. Mama’s all snuggled in behind me. This is nice, but I have to go to the bathroom.”

He heard Molly giggle.

He saw Molly kissing Emma’s neck, telling her they’d both go and then they’d get her a bowl of cereal, with bananas, none of those disgusting peaches.

He went back to bed and pulled the covers to his chin. Louey Santera had beaten her. He didn’t blame Mason Lord one bit for taking the bastard down. He’d have taken him down himself. He wondered, as he got up to go to the bathroom himself, if Molly had loved her husband before that.

12

EMMA WAS JUMPING out of her skin she was so excited. She started playing the two-octave piano as soon as she saw it, Ramsey standing just behind her, so surprised he couldn’t speak.

She was playing a Mozart Sonata that had been the title song to an old film called Elvira Madigan.

All the salespeople in the toy store were beginning to gather around along with children and their parents. No one was saying anything, just watching Emma play on that little excuse for a piano and listening to the incredible music she was making.

He looked over at Molly. He could see that she was humming to herself along with Emma’s playing. She looked as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

He bought the piano. The saleswoman said, “It’s a pity she can’t have a regular piano. She’s quite talented. How long has she been playing?”

Molly answered. “Since she was just three. We’re vacationing here and forgot to bring her portable piano. We’ll make do nicely with this one.”

“Amazing,” the saleswoman said. “Just amazing. You’ve got a lovely, talented little girl.”

Ramsey nodded. “Yes, she is amazing.”

He felt Emma’s hand slip into his. He hugged her against his leg, which was feeling nearly back to normal again. He was down to about four aspirin a day. He wondered if Emma remembered her nightmare. He wanted to ask her about it but thought better of it. No, they needed to talk to a professional. He realized he could call and get a reference.

He said low to Molly when he opened the car door, “Do you think Emma’s doing okay?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked her. After last night, I’m more afraid than before.”

“I could probably find out the name of a local shrink, one who deals only with children. What do you think?”

She chewed on that so hard he could practically see her thinking. Finally, she shook her head. “We don’t dare take a chance. I think that for the time being we should just keep her close and let her know she’s safe.”

But she knew Emma wasn’t safe from those terrifying dreams. Molly forced a frown because she wanted to cry.

He nodded, still uncertain. He looked into the backseat of the Toyota. Emma was holding the big box with her piano inside really close. Her eyes were closed. What was she thinking? Or was she just playing music in her mind? He prayed it was music there and nothing else, at least for the time being.

He noticed the Honda Civic a half mile from the shopping center. There weren’t many cars on 89, the only road to Lake Tahoe from Truckee. It was another seven miles, give or take a mile, to Alpine Meadows Road, their turnoff. He didn’t say anything, just kept checking every couple of minutes in the rearview mirror.

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