Chances: Samantha Barclay Mystery, #3

By Suzanne M. Hurley

FBI agent Ryan Leam's son is missing. Seeking truth, Psychologist Samantha Barclay risks her life to go undercover at Sacred Heart Academy.

Newspaper reporter Mariah Blue is hot on Samantha's trail. No one knows why.

Will Samantha find the boy before it's too late?

Will she survive Mariah's confrontation?

The truth is shocking and unbelievable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597054553

Book preview

Prologue

He was choking.

Nausea ripped through him.

He gasped as he pushed hard with his tongue.

Tried to dislodge the rag stuffed in his mouth.

Didn't work. Duct tape held it in.

Yelled. Only made him gag.

Hands and feet struggled to move. They were tied tightly.

How in hell did he end up here?

One minute he was jogging, the next he was in the back of an RV.

Blindfolded, a gun to his head!

Didn't even get a good look at his captor.

Silence spun over him as stark reality hit home.

He was all alone.

Tears poured down his face.

It was hopeless—a done deal.

He'd never get out of this.

What a mess he'd made of his life.

Stop! He needed to get a grip.

He sucked in deep breaths, tried to calm down, while he took stock, grateful his eyes were no longer covered.

Twisting his head, he looked around.

Figured he was in some kind of shed.

It was dark and dingy.

The sun tried to squeeze in a ray or two through a small, grimy window off to the side.

Only piece of furniture he could see was the smelly, ripped up old mattress he sat on.

Stench of rot swirled around him.

It made him dizzy.

What was that?

A loud creak, then heavy footsteps.

Someone walked through the door

His captor... holding a gun.

Open your damn mouth, the man clipped out, as he ripped off the tape. He yanked out the rag and laughed. You won't need this, boy. Yell as loud as you want, no one can hear you now.

The teen squinted to get a good look. Did he know this guy?

An oversized cowboy hat, large pair of sunglasses, a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, disguised him. His dark clothes were baggy and shapeless.

It could be anyone.

His dad once said, Take charge. Never let anyone see your fear.

He sat straight up. I demand to know why I'm here. He tried to sound firm but his voice shook.

His kidnapper pointed the gun at his head. You have no right to demand anything.

What did I do? He wished he could get the quiver out of his voice.

The man grabbed a black canvas-folding chair leaning up against the wall, opened it up and sat down.

He grinned and waved his weapon as he spoke, Let me tell you a story about your old man...

One

I need your help. The plea was urgent.

Who is this?

Ryan Leam.

No way would an FBI Agent be calling me. You're joking, right?

I have to talk to you.

This time I detected a mild lisp. It really was Ryan.

Why?

"Can I come over?

Sure. How could I refuse a man of the law?

Be there in ten. He hung up.

My name is Samantha Barclay, Sam to my friends. I am the counselor at Milton High here in Paxton, West Virginia. Ryan and I had crossed paths over the last couple of years when I had been involved in a few dicey situations. Like almost being killed twice. He had been a cracker jack deputy who ran the drug unit for Fayette County. Many felons were behind bars because of him. His expertise, skill and sharp mind had the FBI at his doorstep, begging him to join. He was now a special agent in Richmond, Virginia.

Ryan frowned at my involvement in police matters just as I objected to his brusque no-nonsense approach to life. The fact he wanted anything to do with me, especially enough to bother me at work, was a surprise.

It was not a welcomed one either. If I knew Ryan, it would probably mean something serious. I was in a good mood and didn’t want anyone or anything to spoil it. I was just about to call my dad to see if he had any last minute wedding preparations he needed taken care of. He was marrying my landlady, Irena Edwards. Tomorrow was the rehearsal and Saturday, the main event. Excited, I was literally counting down seconds until the nuptials began.

A loud knock drew my attention. I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes exactly.

I opened the door and was shocked by Ryan's appearance. Where once he was impeccably dressed, he now sported a stained black T-shirt, wrinkled green trousers and stringy brown hair in desperate need of a wash and trim. A couple of days’ beard growth added to his disheveled look. He was forty-two years old, yet appeared much older. Up close, I could see black smudges under his eyes which signaled sleepless nights. Taut, razor sharp creases below his cheekbones echoed a dramatic weight loss. In short, he looked a complete mess. If he were a client of mine, I’d have him at the doctor’s office by the end of the day.

Sit down. He pointed to the recliner by the window.

I did as he said. I was used to his overbearing manner.

He pulled up a chair in front of me.

I need a favor.

What is it?

I want you to go to Sacred Heart Academy.

That school was in Virginia, two hours from here.

For a visit?

No. To work.

I have a job here.

I need you to find out something for me.

"You're asking me? Stunned, I stood up. You have FBI agents to help you."

Please. He rose as well.

Ryan looked scared. I had never seen cool, in control, Special Agent Leam like this before.

He reached out to grab my arms and moved closer. He stared me in the face.

My eighteen year old son's been kidnapped. I need you positioned at Sacred Heart to help me find him. Surely, some of his friends must know something. He dropped his hands, and hung his head, a picture of defeat. They're not telling me anything. I can't even trace Jason's final hours at the school. Everyone's closemouthed.

His son was gone! No wonder he looked horrible. My heartstrings were tugged tightly. I wanted to hug him, to tell him how sorry I was, but Ryan was not the affectionate type, so I held back, keeping it strictly business. I figured it was all he could handle.

Is there a ransom note?

Not yet. There should be one any day now.

I was torn. How can I just up and leave?

He looked at me, a touch of hope in his eyes. I have your principal's permission. Your job here will be held for your return. I just need the okay from you.

Casey Peak was a great principal. He would support anything if it meant helping someone. He also had complete faith in me, more than I had in myself.

So, will you do it?

I walked over to the window and stared out at the view of Old Grover Mountain. I needed a moment to think and its mighty peaks never failed to inspire.

I’d come close to packing in my counselor credentials and still worked on regaining my self-confidence, after it'd taken a beating last year. As hard as it was to admit, I'd been conned by students I trusted. I’d been devastated. After much soul searching, I decided to give it one more, albeit tentative, chance this year. Hopefully, I had emerged wiser and less inclined to believe everything I was told. I was not as naive as I had been but still shaky when it came to trusting my own judgment.

I sighed heavily. The bottom line? A young teen was missing and I knew first hand all about a teenager's code of ethics. Ratting was not the thing to do.

I turned to face Ryan. There was only one answer I could give. The right one.

I'll do it.

Two

The long-anticipated wedding of my father and Irena had arrived. I was the maid of honor, Al Michaels was the best man, and best he was in every way, at least in my eyes. He was the handsomest man here, maybe in all of Fayette County. I wasn't exaggerating. He really was! But then again, I could be biased.

Al was a deputy with the local Sheriff's Office and just the mention of his name gave me goose bumps. With all the drama that'd been going on in my life the past couple of years, I never thought we'd get this far. I could now call him my boyfriend, my other half, significant other or any other romantic couple name I liked. We were a pair. We were finally going out. I knew I sounded like Dr. Seuss, but we were Sam and Al, Al and Sam.

Do you, Irena Rose Edwards, take Ross Adrian Barclay for your lawful wedded husband? Will you love, comfort and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?

I will.

I smiled over at Al who winked back.

I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.

My father leaned in for a smooch, and the joy in his eyes warmed my heart. My eyes stung. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara.

I gazed around the church as I tried to get a grip on my emotions. Its beauty enveloped me in a warm cocoon of love. It was breathtaking. It had been transformed into a lush Garden of Eden. Bouquets of red and white roses, Irena's trademark colors, flourished at the end of each pew. Garlands of scarlet colored ribbon streamed across the ceiling and flowed from the sculptured angels atop the towering pillars, which created a magical utopia for the newlyweds.

Hey, daydreamer. Get moving.

Startled, I turned to see Al beside me. He nodded toward the married couple already halfway down the aisle. It was our turn next.

He looked damn good. Breathtaking in his inky black tuxedo. It contrasted sharply with a crisp white shirt, complete with a red bowtie. It matched to a tee my own crimson colored halter dress, with a white lace shawl draped around my shoulders for the utmost in modesty, Irena said, befitting a House of God.

I linked my arm around his and proudly headed to the back of the church. I smiled ecstatically. I was thrilled, not only at my dad's new love in his so-called twilight years, but happy to be coupled with Al. My heart still raced every time he touched me. How was that for chemistry?

Immediately we were whisked away in a limo to Nichols Park, a beautiful expanse of land in the center of town, where the event would be captured forever in a beautiful array of pictures. Irena was a photo fanatic and demanded a ton of reminders of their big day. To display the results, she had purchased at least ten photo albums. Dad humored her by going along with all of her plans. He even hammed it up as he posed for the cameras.

I'm missing you already, Al whispered, during one particularly long period, where we waited for the photographer to not only get the perfect spot but the proper lighting.

Me too, I murmured back. A sharp pang of loss sliced through me.

On Monday, I would be heading off to Sacred Heart as their new counselor. Conveniently, the other one was out on maternity leave. My sense of hilarity kicked in. I wasn't sure if Ryan arranged that. Could the FBI create pregnancies on command or was it just dumb luck?

Ryan was still hoping I might dig up some info. So... I guess I was sort of a secret agent. A spy. I giggled at the thought. It was often the way I coped with somber situations and this was indeed serious. A missing boy. Somehow, humor helped me detach from problems and look at them more objectively.

Hey, honey!

I looked over as Dad grinned. He saved me from more inane thoughts.

Hope you haven't eaten much today. We've got a feast prepared at Connan's.

My stomach grumbled with hunger pangs. I was reminded it'd been a long time since breakfast. I couldn't wait to get to Connan's, which was the restaurant/bakery Irena owned. I licked my lips. Hell, I'd kill for one of her gooey mouthwatering butter tarts right about now.

I looked at my dad, who beamed with such good health and happiness, my heart filled. I burst out, I'm just so darn happy for you, Dad.

I had never seen him looking so well. He had suffered from health problems last year, which had culminated in a quadruple bypass. It had been a long road back, with a few relapses along the way. Of course, falling in love put him over the top on the happiness scale.

He wrapped his arms around me as he said, Hope you don't mind having your old man around for good.

Nope. I'm loving it, I answered honestly. I was thrilled Dad and his new bride would be settling just down the road from me. Having them close was a bonus and I was going to savor every precious moment.

Hey! Who's hugging my husband?

I pulled away and smiled as a beaming Irena claimed her man. She was a smart looking woman with short white curls and a trim athletic build. Right now, she looked stunning in a pearl gray wedding suit topped by a pillbox hat. A small gray veil was attached and it hung daintily down her back. She was quite a woman. An ex-cop with a black belt in karate. Her halved brick sat in a place of honor on the mantle above her fireplace.

I adored Irena even though we'd had a rough go of it. I thought she worked my father too hard in the restaurant and had squared off with her several times. I was glad we were able to smooth things out to a peaceable solution. The fact we were almost shot to death contributed greatly to the reunion. After all, we had a lot in common. We both loved the same man.

Psssst... Samantha.

Ryan Leam leaned against a tree. He stared at me.

Was it just my imagination?

I looked away, then back again. This time he beckoned me over. He was definitely real.

He wasn't on the guest list.

What was he doing here?

Three

Mariah Blue drained the last dregs of coffee. She put the mug down and crushed the remains of her cigarette in the ashtray. Jimmy’s was closed for the night and she'd been enjoying a smoke before she headed out.

Surprised to see you drinking coffee and not your usual bedtime scotch.

She looked up at Shane, top bartender in New York City. She wasn't kidding. He'd actually won an award.

Got a big trip ahead of me, said Mariah. Need some heavy duty reinforcements to stay awake, but I have to be sober. Caffeine will do it.

Shane's blue eyes crinkled with humor. How he always managed to be in such a good mood, she never knew. How she always managed to be in a perpetual snit, was more her concern. Could she be hitting menopause at thirty-five?

What bad guy are you hunting down now? Shane put the glass he was cleaning away and eagerly leaned forward.

Mariah smiled. He loved to hear about the stories she was working on. She was sure he lived out his curiosity about the wild side of life through her investigations.

Nope, not this time. I'm on vacation. She flat out laughed as he stood still, hand to his heart, acting all dramatic with his mouth wide open, pretending great shock.

Did I hear correctly? He exaggeratedly wiped fake sweat off his forehead. You're taking a holiday? A real, live honest to goodness rest from work?

Sure am. My taxi is picking me up in, she looked at her watch, forty five minutes.

A sick feeling hit her. She wasn't telling Shane the whole truth. She was indeed on a hunt. But it wasn't for work. This time it was personal, disguised as time off.

She slid off her stool, grabbed her lighter and smokes and threw them in her purse.

Better get my bags. She hoped her curtness made it clear she didn't want to talk about it. She hadn't confided in anyone. It was her mission and hers alone.

How long are you going for? he asked quietly. He looked hurt at being blocked out.

Not sure. At least a few weeks. She ignored his puppy-like expression and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. She whispered, I'll tell you all about it when I get back. She then headed to the stairs that led up to her tiny apartment above the bar.

Hey, Mariah, yelled Shane. Have a good holiday.

I will. She kept right on going so he wouldn't ask any more questions.

I'll keep an eye on your place. He was still fishing.

Thanks. See you later. She wasn't giving an inch. This was too private.

Since Shane lived in an apartment right across the hall from hers, she wasn't too worried about leaving it vacated for a while. He was an older man, twice divorced, in his sixties, who’d declared himself her caretaker. He'd keep her place safe.

Most evenings she ended her day quietly puffing and drinking away while Shane got his bar in order. He was a great sounding board, had a wealth of street knowledge and gave good advice about her dating life. The fact he was enthralled by her job was a bonus. She could talk over anything with him. Almost anything. He would be shocked to find out what she was really doing. But it was a secret.

She had received some news a while back that she'd been struggling to deal with. It couldn't wait. Someone out there was in for a huge surprise. You never, ever messed around with Mariah Blue.

Her cell phone chirped wildly as she opened the door to her tiny room. Why she'd let Shane program bird sounds as her ring tone she'd never know. A blue jay's shrill cry was damn annoying. She slammed the door shut, at the same time answering the call, Mariah, here.

So you're really leaving us? barked out a voice she was way too familiar with. Her editor, Jon Blake.

Yeah, I'm going, she said impatiently. I told you that. You've known it for the past month.

"I don't think the The New York Times can do without you." He paused for a second. Mariah stayed quiet as well. She knew he was going to try to persuade her to stay but she wasn't budging. Nothing was stopping her. Not this time.

Jon sighed loudly into the phone. "Oh, all right. Go. But I'll sure miss my best reporter. Have a good one but come back early if you can."

Mariah quickly hung up before he said another word. Her bags were already packed. She just had one more crucial thing to do before she left.

She reached up above the headboard of her bed and pushed aside a cheap print of Van Gogh's Sunflowers. It covered up the small safe she had installed a few years ago. As a crime reporter, she was well aware of New York City theft. It was rampant. She didn’t have any jewels to protect, but she did have one thing she treasured. One precious belonging.

She ran through her combination and opened it up. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in her chest as she grabbed her custom-made pale blue pistol. She smiled as she took in its color. Her favorite shade of sky. Yes, it was an outrageous expenditure but one she felt a city reporter should have for safety reasons. Figured she might as well have a sharp looking color coordinated one, if she was going to tote it around with her. A shiver slid down her spine. She hoped she wouldn't need it, but you never knew.

She picked up her backpack and suitcase and took one final look around. The space was miniscule, everything contained in one room, almost a closet, but she loved it. It was all hers. It was quiet and peaceful after bar hours as well as close to work. She was going to miss it.

She was also afraid she'd never see it again.

A feeling of dread hit her. Her heart pounded. Would what she might uncover ruin her life and send her into seclusion? Who knew what was in store for her?

She took a deep breath of resolve, shut the door and ran down the stairs to wait for her taxi. She was also going to miss New York. Its hustle and bustle was the adrenaline that coursed through her veins. It spurred her on to get involved, face her fears and brave new experiences. She loved it here.

But she had geared up for a confrontation.

The time was now.

Four

Iwalked over to Ryan as quickly as I could in four-inch heels.

Did something happen?

He shook his head. Sorry to bother you, Sam, especially at such a happy time. He paused and looked around. He raised his eyebrows as if in surprise such occasions even existed. He then looked back at me, a serious expression on his face. My wife wants to talk to you. He leaned over to whisper, I couldn't stop her. She demanded to see you today. I tried to reason with her, but had no luck.

I hadn't heard from Ryan in a while and it broke my heart again to see him like this. His gloomy mood contrasted sharply with the happy, almost heavenly day I was experiencing with my family. Even his lisp was more pronounced which signaled his exhaustion. I noted he had on the same clothes as the last time I'd talked to him. They weren’t any cleaner.

His son’s disappearance had devastated him. I didn't blame him one bit and felt incredibly guilty over my lighthearted thoughts a few minutes ago. What was I thinking, joking around about this? It was a damn serious matter.

Well, will you talk to her? he asked impatiently. As another favor?

I'd be glad to, I said quickly, to ease his mind. I was curious to meet his wife, to see the type of partner Ryan would choose.

He led me to a royal blue convertible parked near the entrance of the park. When he tapped on the window, the door opened and a chicly dressed woman got out. Curly brown hair streaked with gold highlights framed her heart-shaped face. Her black suede suit and matching boots were obviously expensive and reeked of sophistication and class. She was a beautiful woman, a good decade younger than Ryan. However, she too moved like someone thirty years older. Her sad eyes and tightly furled forehead indicated enormous stress. She was obviously as grief stricken and paralyzed with fear as her husband. To have a child go missing had to be one of the worse hells a parent could go through.

Are you Samantha Barclay? She peered at me, as if she didn’t believe her husband.

Yes, I am.

She reached out to shake my hand. Glad to meet you. She then looked over at Ryan and clipped out, Could you leave us alone for a minute?

He rolled his eyes as he walked away. The tension between them was thick.

She clutched my arm tightly as she said firmly, You've just got to find my baby.

I'll certainly try.

You're my only hope. Her anguished eyes bored into mine.

Panic hit me full force. The Leams were counting on me. What if I let them down?

No pressure here, I thought, sarcastically.

I just had to see you. I need to tell you something. She leaned closer then looked back to make sure Ryan wasn't listening. My husband's convinced Jason was taken by someone related to his work. Some criminal he put behind bars. He thinks he was kidnapped. Her voice quieted down into a whisper. I don't believe that. The FBI doesn't think so either.

Shocked, I leaned closer. I, too, bought into the story that an enemy of Ryan's had snatched away his son. I’d worked with him before and trusted his judgment. I believed Ryan when he said that a ransom note was expected shortly. I figured he had facts to go on. I also knew he was