The Target

"Yes. Dad, Eve, this is Ramsey Hunt. He's the one who saved Emma. Then I came along. There are maybe five men after us, and they're very good at tracking us. We don't know why they're after us, but we wanted you to know this right away."

The man cleared his throat and said, "We decided to come here, Mr. Lord, because they know who I am now. We just couldn't keep Emma safe. The people hunting us are good, too good. We trust you to keep Emma safe better than the authorities can."

Mason Lord walked to the man and extended his hand. "This is an honor. It's a pleasure to meet you, Judge Hunt."

Ramsey shook the man's hand. "Thank you. We're here because we believe you're our best shot at keeping Emma safe."

"I didn't imagine for a moment that you were here to visit me, Judge Hunt. Yes, yes, I know who you are. You're a famous man. It's quite a surprise that you're the one who found Emma."

Molly could only stare at them, all civilized on the outside, but she could see each sizing up the other, weighing, assessing. She gathered Emma closer to her. She hadn't wanted to be here, hadn't wanted her daughter exposed to her father, but it was the safest place for Emma.

Mason Lord wouldn't allow anyone to get close to his granddaughter, even though he hadn't seen her since she'd been a toddler. No, Emma carried his blood. He would protect her with every weapon in his arsenal.

Her father finally said, his voice smooth and deep, "You saved Molly and her daughter. I thank you. You brought her home when she refused. You will all be safe here. No one, cops or anyone else, will get near Emma."

"Thank you," Ramsey said. He squeezed Emma's hand, then said to the crook he was trusting with all their lives, "Actually, sir, Emma had saved herself. She'd escaped from the man and run into the forest. I found her there and took her to my cabin. Some days later, Molly found both of us." Ramsey looked down a moment at Emma, who was staring at a huge rhinoceros head, complete with a shining tusk, above the mantel, her mouth open. She was tugging on his hand. He gave hers a squeeze, looked at the rhino, and said, "I wonder what kind of polish they used on the tusk. What do you think, Emma?"

She squeezed his hand tighter. "Soap and water," she said. "Mama always says that soap and water's the best."

Ramsey said, "I would imagine that the men after us have already tracked us to the airport. We had to show photo ID. Someone will remember, no doubt about that, even though Molly bought her ticket singly and I bought Emma's ticket with mine. Yes, the men will be here very soon."

"You took a cab from O'Hare?"

"Yes, to downtown, Michigan Avenue. Emma needed some clothes, as did Molly and I. None of us were very presentable. Then we took another cab to the Jefferson Police Station, wandered in and spoke to the desk sergeant about nothing in particular, then we got a third cab out here. But they'll find us. I'm convinced of that. They probably already know we're here with you. As I said, they're good, and, as Molly and I have agreed, there's got to be an organization behind them."

Mason Lord nodded, then said, "That was smart of you to go to a police station. It will give them pause. Please, all of you, sit down. As to any organization behind all this, we'll speak of it later. Ah, here's Miles with some lemonade."

"I brought enough for all of you, sir."

"Thank you, Miles," Molly said.

"And I brought some chocolate cake I baked this morning." He looked at Emma as he poured her a glass. "You like chocolate cake?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Miles. It's the best."

Ramsey laughed. "Be careful or she'll eat the whole cake. She hasn't had many goodies for a while."

Miles smiled as he ruffled Emma's hair, even as Mason Lord frowned. He watched his daughter wipe the child's hands on one of the little wet towels Miles had brought. How had Miles known to do that? He was like one of those hovering smiley-faced airline attendants. He was silent until everyone had drunk the lemonade and eaten some of Miles's chocolate cake. He hadn't known of any cake. He loved chocolate cake but Miles hadn't offered him any, either for lunch or right now. He'd had a low-cal, low-fat flan for dessert the previous night. It hadn't even tasted very good. He looked at his beautiful wife. She wasn't looking at the cake. She was looking at Molly. Her face was perfectly still. No expression at all. What was she thinking?

Ramsey Hunt was big, tall, and very well built, but that made sense, of course, given what he'd done in his own courtroom. He was a man who obviously worked out, who took good care of himself, a man who looked as if he could deal with anything that happened to cross his path. Mason supposed he was good-looking enough, his features regular, his coloring olive, his eyes a green color that argued against Italian blood. But who knew in America? All of them were mongrels, himself included. At least he had more good Irish blood than anything else. As for his beautiful Eve, she was Swedish, every beautiful blond inch of her. She'd told him stories about her father falling in love with a German countess, but he hadn't married her. Too many control-freak genes, he'd said. No, Eve was pure Scandinavian. He'd chosen well this time.