Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas #1)(120)

The phone continued to ring. He snatched it and barked into the receiver, listened a moment, then held it out to her, obviously irritated. “It's for you. An emergency.”

She let out an oath that was purely Anglo-Saxon, determined to have Nathan Hurd's scalp for this. No matter what his current crisis, her producer had no right to interrupt her tonight. “Nathan, I'm going to—” Stefan banged a heavy crystal brandy decanter down on a tray, and she pushed her finger into her exposed ear to shut him out. “What? I can't hear.”

“It's Holly Grace, Francie.”

Francesca was immediately alarmed. “Holly Grace, are you all right?”

“Not really. If you're not sitting down, you'd better do it.”

Francesca sank down on the side of the bed, apprehension growing inside her at the strangely subdued sound of Holly Grace's voice. “What's wrong?” she demanded. “Are you sick? Did something happen with Gerry?” Stefan's tirade quieted as he heard the worried tone in her voice, and he came over to stand next to her.

“No, Francie, nothing like that.” Holly Grace paused for a moment. “It's Teddy.”

“Teddy?” A surge of primal fear shot through Francesca, and her heart began to race.

Holly Grace's words came out in a rush. “He disappeared. Tonight, not long after I took him home.”

Raw terror swept through Francesca's body with such intensity that all her senses seemed to short-circuit. An instant array of ugly pictures flashed into her mind from programs she had done, and she felt herself skimming over the edge of consciousness.

“Francie,” Holly Grace went on, “I think Dallie's kidnapped him.”

Her first feeling was a numbing surge of relief. The dark visions of a shallow grave and a small, mutilated body receded; but then other visions began to appear and she could barely breathe.

“Oh, God, Francie, I'm sorry.” Holly Grace's words tumbled over each other. “I don't know exactly what happened. They accidentally met at my apartment today, and then Dallie showed up at your place about an hour after I'd dropped Teddy off and told Consuelo I'd sent him back to pick up Teddy so he could spend the night with me. She knew who he was, of course, so she didn't think anything of it. He had Teddy pack a suitcase, and nobody has seen either of them since. I've called everywhere. Dallie's checked out of his hotel, and Skeet doesn't know a thing. The two of them were supposed to go to Florida this week for a tournament.”

Francesca felt a sickness growing in the pit of her stomach. Why would Dallie take Teddy? She could only think of one reason, but that was impossible. No one knew the truth; she had never told a soul. Still, she couldn't come up with any other reason. A bitter rage mounted inside her. How could he do something so barbaric?

“Francie, are you still there?”

“Yes,” Francesca whispered.

“I've got to ask you something.” There was another long pause, and Francesca braced herself for what she knew had to be coming. “Francie, I've got to ask you why Dallie would do this. Something funny happened when he saw Teddy. What's going on?”

“I—I don't know.”

“Francie...”

“I don't know, Holly Grace!” she exclaimed. “I don't know.” Her voice softened. “You understand him better than anyone. Is there any possibility Dallie would hurt Teddy?”

“Of course not.” And then she hesitated. “Not physically anyway. I can't say what he might do to him psychologically, since you won't tell me what this is all about.”

“I'm going to hang up now and try to get a plane to New York tonight.” Francesca tried to sound brisk and efficient, but her voice was quivering. “Would you call everybody you can think of who might know where Dallie is? But be careful what you say. And whatever you do, don't let the newspapers find out. Please, Holly Grace, I don't want Teddy turned into a sideshow freak. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Francie, you've got to tell me what's going on.”

“Holly Grace, I love you... I really do.” And then she hung up.

As Francesca flew across the Atlantic that night, she stared vacantly into the impenetrable blackness outside the window. Fear and guilt ate away at her. This was all her fault. If she had been home, she could have prevented it from happening. What kind of mother was she to let other people raise her child? All the devils of working-mother guilt buried their pitchforks in her flesh.

What if something terrible happened? She tried to tell herself that no matter what Dallie might have discovered, he would never hurt Teddy—at least the Dallie she'd known ten years ago wouldn't have. But then she remembered the programs she'd done on ex-spouses kidnapping their own children and vanishing with them for years at a time. Surely someone with as public a career as Dallie's couldn't do that—could he? Once again, she attempted to unravel the puzzle of how Dallie had discovered that Teddy was his son—that was the only explanation she could find for the abduction—but the answer eluded her.

Where was Teddy right now? Was he frightened? What had Dallie told him? She had heard enough stories from Holly Grace to know that when Dallie was angry, he was unpredictable—even dangerous. But no matter how much he might have changed over the years, she couldn't believe he would hurt a little boy.