Joy Express Read online

  “Just an old, black vehicle of some kind. Flew by like a racecar. But there was just one little old man inside.”

  Please, God, no. Please don’t let it be her father. “Thanks, Phoebe, I’ll call her right now.”

  Her cell buzzed on the coffee table, next to her purse.

  Bailey, where in the world are you? I walked onto the front porch and noticed something I hadn’t seen on the way in.

  Splashes of blood spotted the steps.

  Dizziness sent me to my knees.

  3

  Stay focused, Bailey. The trees disappeared, replaced with a cloudy December sky. The periodic whoosh of passing cars let me know which direction we were going on the interstate. Pretty sure we took a right off the exit, which meant toward Dallas.

  Keep thinking. The babies settled down, and I turned my attention to the interior of my mobile prison. Maybe I could write HELP on my hand and slip it up the window. Nothing, not a stray pen to write with or use as a weapon. Maybe I could sit up and put my hands on his face, cause the car to swerve, get attention. No. An accident might hurt the babies. If I could just find my voice. I took a deep breath, but coughed against the acrid scent of exhaust. “Where are you taking me?” The fear in my tearful voice made me mad. I needed to be strong.

  “I won’t hurt you.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “Please, I need to go to the bathroom.” Keep your head, Bailey.

  “I told you to shut up. You can go in a minute.” The earlier venom in his voice had morphed to a nervous tremor. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “You already did. You wrenched my arm and practically dragged me to this car. I’m pregnant, can’t you see that?” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Keep your head. God help me. “Please slow down.”

  He had to be doing ninety.

  I leaned against the door. Maybe I could jump out if he’d slow down, but the interstate offered no chance for that. Could I jump out without hurting my babies? Maybe I could flag somebody driving past.

  “I just want to talk to you. All those people around you wouldn’t let that happen.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

  “You kidnapped me so you could talk to me? You risked jail so you could talk to me? I don’t understand.” My heart beat so rapidly I thought I might be sick.

  “You’d press charges against your own father?” He looked over his shoulder at me and then suddenly lurched and grabbed my arm, bobbing his vision between me and the road.

  I tried to pull free. “Please, you’re hurting me. I don’t know you from Adam. This isn’t right. Please, let me out. I’ll get a ride home.”

  “You can’t just go for a ride with your old man?” His grip tightened until my fingertips went numb.

  He accelerated then jerked and flailed my arm from side to side. “I said I need to talk to you. Don’t make it so difficult!” Spittle spewed from the side of his mouth. His breath reeked of alcohol.

  Terror tightened my chest. I gripped the door handle and prayed. He weaved in and out of traffic. It was a wonder I didn’t hear fast-approaching sirens. That would be a good thing.

  My babies would not die like this. Father, I’m turning this over to you. Please lead me. I willed my breathing to slow. What kind of mother would I be if I lost my head now? “All right, let’s talk. But pull over or something. Your driving is scaring me. It’s not good for my babies.” I tugged my arm away.

  He shot me a surprised look. “Twins?” He let go.

  The blood rushed into my fingers, making them tingle. I forced myself to look up at him. Blue veins bulged in his neck like lightning bolts. He wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve. Gradually, he slowed the car’s speed.

  “Let’s go back to Marshall. There are lots of places we can talk.”

  “Right. As soon as I let you out of this car, you’ll be calling the police.” He revved up the engine again.

  “It’s amazing they’re not on your tail already.”

  He jerked his head toward me, lips white.

  My breath caught in my throat. I’d said the wrong thing.

  He banged his fist on the steering wheel. “You’d turn me in? Your own father? She must have made you hate me.”

  The volume in his rant hurt my ears. “No, I’m sorry. I mean that the way we left, it will cause my family to worry. If I could just let them know I’m all right, then there’d be no police and we can talk.” Some kind of supernatural strength helped me lift my hand over the driver’s seat and touch his arm, which seemed to calm him.

  He relaxed and slowed the car again.

  “Are we close to a bathroom?” I really needed to go now.

  Brown—I couldn’t think of him as my father—didn’t answer. His shoulders slumped and his eyelids drooped a little. He took a breath as though about to speak, but his eyes darted to the rear view mirror. His posture shot to attention.

  Sirens and flashing lights passed us and faded.

  Tears welled as nausea sent my free hand to my mouth. This couldn’t be happening. The babies rolled across my stomach, as though stretching out for a nap. Yes, sleep little ones, I’ll get you out of this, I promise.

  Hidden in the shelter of My wings. All three of you.

  Awed at the sudden calm and sense of God’s presence, I relaxed, and the nausea subsided. I noticed that Brown’s attitude mirrored mine. I must remain calm.

  The turn signal clicking, followed by the grinding of tires on gravel, gave me hope of a stop. Could I gather enough adrenaline to make a getaway?

  His car door opened, and he pulled down his seat-back and stood before me. “Sit up, but don’t move.”

  His red eyes and shaking hands alarmed me. If he was losing it, he might do something rash, like shoot me.

  We were parked behind an abandoned gas station off an equally abandoned exit. He unlocked a garage door, raised it, and then disappeared inside.

  Cars whooshed by on the highway. I slid out of the car determined to make my way around the corner of the station and flag someone down. Dizziness weakened me as I stood on my feet, but I pushed ahead.

  Brown backed out of the garage in a white, older model sedan. He exited the white car, grabbed me by the wrist and pushed me into its back seat, gun pointing at my head.

  “Please, I really need to go the bathroom. I can’t go any farther without a bathroom break.”

  He pulled me back out of the car then kicked open another door revealing a nasty bathroom. He pushed me in and closed the door. At first I could see his back through the hole where the doorknob should have been; then he was gone. The sickening smell of that bathroom, obviously used and no water turned on to flush, almost made me succumb to throwing up. I wanted out of there fast, but I also needed another minute to myself.

  Where was he? The roar of a car engine, then grinding gravel, sent hope into my heart. He was leaving me here! Yes, perfect. He’d come to his senses. I’d wave down a passing car and be home in no time. The slow moving car stopped so I stepped outside.

  He’d driven the black car into the garage.

  Could I reach the garage door and pull it down, trapping him inside? Make my way up to the highway? No dice.

  I’d barely taken two steps before he’d run out of the garage, slammed the door down and concealed the other car. He shoved me again into the back seat of the white car.

  “Lay down!” he barked.

  I checked out this new prison for weapons, anything. Clean as a whistle. The babies jostled for position. Protect them, Father. Surely the stress I felt affected their peace. Show me what to do. The damp fabric covering the car seat smelled musty, but I had to lay down my head.

  My heart sank as I realized that even if someone had seen the black car tearing out of Exit 477, we were in a different vehicle. No one would be looking for a white car. Where would he take me? This changed everything. He’d planned this. He was in worse shape than I’d imagined. More than anger. Desperate derangement.

  I closed my eyes. Father, please. I reached
and held onto my gold cross necklace. A thought jumped forward. I yanked it off my neck and tossed it out, just as he raised the electric windows. Had he seen it fly?

  He tore back onto the highway without another word. At least I’d been able to leave one clue. Would anyone find it? I couldn’t imagine, but nothing was impossible with God.

  4

  I made the call as I jogged back to the diner. “What is your emergency?” The female 911 operator’s nasal voice was barely audible. I had to calm the roaring fear in my head. I had to keep it together for Bailey and the babies.

  “My wife is missing.” Words I’d never imagined speaking sliced a knife through my heart. I gave her my name and Bailey’s.

  “How long?” Her calm question was the first in a long list, I knew.

  How could I cut to the chase? “I last saw her early this morning when I left for work, but I was supposed to pick her up at two o’clock for a family event. I came home to find her gone, but her purse and cell phone left behind.” Please, send someone. Better yet, Bailey, come home.

  “Is she vulnerable? I mean under eighteen or over sixty-five, challenged in some way?” Her routine, matter-of-fact tone wasn’t getting Bailey found.

  “I’d say eight months pregnant with twins is vulnerable. And there was blood on the steps.”

  “Have you called your friends and family? The hospital? Perhaps she went into labor and got a ride to the hospital?”

  That made sense. “I don’t know. All my friends and family are accounted for, but she could be at the hospital. Maybe she called an ambulance.”

  Maybe the babies were coming today! But Phoebe hadn’t mentioned seeing an ambulance.

  “Try that, and if she’s not at the hospital, then call us back. Goodbye.” She didn’t seem to care that the love of my life was missing or possibly in labor without me.

  I made it to the diner and leaned against the wall next to the front door.

  Phoebe brought me a bottle of water.

  I downed it while calling Marshall General and nearly choked on a swallow when the receptionist answered.

  “Has Bailey West been admitted into the hospital? I’m her husband, Scott. Her mother, Gwen McPherson, is Nursing Director there.” Hopefully the Gwen connection might get me a quicker answer.

  “No, Scott, Bailey hasn’t been admitted. Is everything all right?” I recognized the nurse’s voice. Lisa Wardell’s concerned voice bumped up my level of worry.

  “Lisa, I can’t find her. Pray. Please, if she comes in have her call me right away. She’s left her purse and cell phone at home, wherever she is.” I hung up without saying goodbye.

  I called 911 back. “She’s not in the hospital. I think she’s been kidnapped.” My stomach dropped as I spoke the words.

  Phoebe’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

  “What makes you say that, Mr. West?”

  “Her father, whom she hasn’t seen in over twenty years, showed up a year ago on our wedding day. He looked, well, he didn’t look like a nice person. I’m afraid he’s taken her.” Where did that come from? He hadn’t come back that I knew of, though his menacing expression had stayed with me, and he did drive an old black car—or at least, he had. Why had he shown up in the first place if he didn’t have some kind of plan to talk to Bailey or her mother?

  “You haven’t seen him for a year, but you think he’s taken her?”

  “Look, could you please send someone over?” Please, God, please help Bailey, help me.

  “An officer is on his way, Mr. West. Would you like me to stay on the line until he arrives?”

  “No, thanks. Please pray for my wife.”

  Her voice sputtered in surprise.

  Perhaps not a common request of the 911 operator, but I wanted everyone praying.

  “Yes, certainly Mr. West,” she choked out.

  I leaned over and grabbed my knees, my head swimming.

  Pastor Jack’s semi drove down the exit and stopped in front of the diner. His long legs descended the cab, and he came toward me. “What’s the matter, man?” He put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Bailey’s missing, I can’t find her.” Deep breaths, Scott, deep breaths. Keep your wits about you.

  Phoebe grabbed him by the hand. “We need to call the prayer chain.”

  “Good idea. You get started, little lady, I’m gonna pray right now.” He put his hand on my head and called down heaven to find my wife. A little strength entered my body as he prayed.

  A beige sedan made its way down the street and pulled in next to my truck. Two men in business suits exited the vehicle and came toward me.

  “We’re looking for Mrs. Bailey West. Do you know her?”

  “I’m her husband.” Plain clothes officers? Man, they got here fast. “I’m not sure how long she’s been missing. I left the house at about 8:00 AM this morning. I was supposed to pick her up at 2:00 PM, but she’s not there and her clothes are laid out on the bed, her purse and cell phone still there. Want to go up to the inn where we live and check it out?”

  “Mrs. West is missing?” The officers looked at one another.

  That look scared the stuffing out of me. “Yes, isn’t that why you’re here? I just called 911.”

  “No, we’re detectives from Dallas. We want to ask her if she’s seen this man.” They held out a photograph of Kevin Brown.

  5

  What I’d feared stared me in the face. “That’s her father. I’m afraid he’s taken her.” I bent and grabbed my knees again.

  “Are you all right? Let’s get you inside. We’ll sort this out.” The taller of the two officers motioned his head toward the diner.

  Phoebe put her hands around my arm and pulled me after them.

  The taller officer opened the door and the four of us entered.

  “He’s got her. I know he’s got her.”

  “I’m Detective Brent Carter,” the taller officer said, “and this is Detective Curt Blake. First things first. What makes you think Kevin Brown has your wife?”

  “Just a feeling. A really bad feeling. Shouldn’t we be out looking for her? All this talk isn’t helping.”

  “You’ve seen him?” Detective Blake shoved the picture in front of me again.

  “Yes, but it’s been almost a year. He showed up at our wedding. Our anniversary is two weeks away.” My chest and throat tightened. “I warned him to stay away from here. My warning was stern, and I thought he’d taken heed.” I should have told Bailey. Should have warned her and her mom. “I need to go look for her.” I rose and headed for the door.

  “Mr. West, wait. We’ll go with you.” Carter and Blake followed me outside. I got into my truck. Maybe I’d missed something at the inn. They followed me there.

  The three of us searched the inn, the garage, the grounds. Even the prayer garden.

  “Is there anywhere else she could be?” Detective Carter took out a little notebook and pencil from his pocket.

  “At her mother’s in town, or at her old roommates’ place. But they’ve all looked there. I’m at a loss. Why are you looking for him?” Where were the police from the 911 call I made?

  “Embezzlement charges. He didn’t show up for work last week at First National Bank of Dallas, and neither did nine hundred, eighty-thousand dollars. He hasn’t tried to use it yet. Guess he figured he’d be busted soon as he tried to spend any of it. We know he’s been estranged from his ex-wife and daughter, but we thought they might have a clue where he is,” Carter said.

  “No. I didn’t even tell them that he showed up at the wedding. They haven’t seen or heard from him for over twenty years.” This was crazy. The more we talked, the farther away he got with Bailey.

  My cell phone buzzed.

  “The police are here, Scott.” Phoebe’s voice shook.

  “The police are up at the diner. Let’s go there.” I headed for my truck.

  “Of course, but just one question,” Detective Carter said. “Do you know any reason why Mr. Brown would take your wi
fe?”

  “If he’s got money trouble, it might be because she’s recently come into a large amount. Although it’s already spoken for, he might not know that.” I jumped in my truck and drove to the diner, the detectives following.

  Two detectives, and two policemen, and no one seemed to know what to do. They just stood around talking. I’d had enough. I’d head toward Dallas. Maybe I could spot a black sedan with my wife in it.

  6

  I felt the car take a right turn.

  “You can sit up now.” Brown’s voice was gruff.

  We traveled down a rural road. Discouragement and panic fought for attention in my heart. This turn of events made it harder for anyone to find me.

  He drove with the gun in his right hand.

  “You can put that away. I won’t run.”

  He peered over the backseat at me.

  Maybe if I held onto my swollen stomach, or cried, he might have mercy.

  He put the gun on the seat. My breathing leveled out. Psalm 139 came to my mind. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. The Father could see me. I’d rest in that. I took a deep, calming breath. “How much farther? You know pregnant women and bathrooms.” I willed my voice to be light and calm.

  He didn’t answer. Each time he raked his hair back or rubbed his neck, his hands shook. He was scared. “Not much farther. There’s food there. You must be hungry, eating for two and all.”

  Was that his normal sounding voice? How quickly he could turn his anger on and off. Just like when I was five. He’d never really played with me, but sometimes he did talk. If I’d irritated him, he would fly off into a rage. More so at Mom.

  “Three, remember.” Pain tightened my lower back. I breathed deeply against it. I would not let my mind consider that I might be going into labor.

  “Yeah, I thought you looked kind of big, even for this late in the game.” He shook his head and let a whew escape his lips.

  My mind flew into overdrive. I must keep him placated, look for a way to escape or alert someone, and pray that someone found me. I had to think about my babies. The little ones did need nourishment, and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. What time was it anyway? It wasn’t good for my legs to be cramped in the same position this long.