Chapter Fifteen

People are not always what they seem …

Madrene was floating in a haze of love that morning when Ian left for the base and Geek came to take his place. She felt the same way all morning as she performed what had become routine chores for her. She could tell she was making Geek uncomfortable with her incessant smiling.

Then everything came crashing down.

Ian returned at lunchtime, and he had five seals and a woman with him. “Maddie, meet Maddie,” he said cheerfully. He must have noticed the glare on her face, because he quickly explained, “Everything is going down today, and I found a way to protect you … keep you out of harm’s way.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Did I ask you for protection?”

Ian’s seal comrades began hooting with laughter and making remarks at the interplay between them, such as, “Give him hell, Xena.” Let them make mirth. She did not care.

“No, but I’m giving it anyway. It’s my job, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” she saw Cage mouth to Pretty Boy before the two of them raised their right hands high and clapped them against each other.

Ian seemed taken aback when she said, “Do not even try to soften me with endearments. Speak plainly and tell me what this is all about.”

“This is Joan Askey. She’s with the CIA, and she’s going to impersonate you today. You won’t even have to leave the house.”

Madrene made a low growling sound before turning to the woman, who extended her hand for a shake. Madrene complied, but only because it would have been inhospitable not to. Then she surveyed the woman from head to toe. She had red hair, a small nose and mouth and no bosom to speak of. The only similarity between them was their height.

She looked at Ian and said, “She does not resemble me at all.”

“She will, honey … when we’re done fixing her up.” He reached to squeeze her shoulder.

She ducked away. “Do not call me honey.”

He frowned, the vein popping out in his forehead. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

“Not you, that is for certain,” she replied, matching him crudity for crudity. “I am Madrene Olgadottir. I come from a bloodline of fierce fighting men and noble kings. Ne’er do I pay scutage to another to fight my battles.”

Ian’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying you want to do the job yourself … that you want to risk possible death?”

“That is precisely what I am saying.”

“Everyone,” he shouted, waving to all the others in the room, “scram!”

They all left, reluctantly, even the woman, who had been staring at Madrene as if she were demented. She felt a bit demented.

“You said you loved me,” he said, looking wounded.

She was wounded herself. Where was the euphoria she’d been experiencing all morning? “You said you loved me, too. But you do not know me if you think I can accept another taking my place in the front line of a battle.”

“Maddie, be reasonable.”

“There is no room for reason when honor is involved.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to argue about this. We’ll talk about this tonight.” He leaned down to kiss her, and she turned her face to the side.

He gave her a hard look, then turned away, going down the hall to join his comrades.

Madrene sat brooding in the solar. Sam hopped up and nestled against her leg, meowing her commiseration, probably saying, Men! Dumb dolts, all of them! Geek was going to give her some reading and writing lessons this afternoon. She doubted she would be able to concentrate now that she knew Ian would be out facing danger. Anger warred with worry, and her concern for the overbearing brute won out. But only for a moment.

Ian and the seals came from down the hall, grinning. When they got to the archway of the solar, Ian asked, “What do you think?” He stepped aside and Madrene got an eye-popping look at the woman who presumably looked like her.

Joan wore a long blond wig that looked remarkably like Madrene’s own hair. She had applied a large amount of lip rouge which made her appear to have a larger mouth. She had on tight jeans and a red sleeveless top. She carried a long-sleeved jacket of the same denim fabric. But there was one thing that really stood out. Joan had somehow developed a bosom that was huge. Huge!

“You are all a bunch of blind lackwits if you think I am that big.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ian said, winking at her.

She knew he was just teasing, but she was in no mood for his jests. “She looks like the prow of a longship my lackwit brother once built.”

“Okay, guys, weapons ready,” Ian told the men. “Joan already has her body armor on.”

Oh. So that’s what all that padding is. Still, they had deliberately made her voluptuous.

All the men were taking off their shirts, putting on what she knew were called flak jackets, then putting the shirts back on. Concealed weapons were strapped onto every concealed part of their bodies. The larger weapons were broken down and carefully packed in special carrying bags.

Geek, who would be staying behind with her, was equally well armed, though he did not wear the protective armor. The young man was just as chagrined at being excluded from the mission as she was. Babysitting, he called it.

Everyone was ready to go. In fact, Ian checked each of them in turn and said, “Good to go!” And Pretty Boy yelled out, “Yee-haw!” Madrene figured that must be a seal battle cry, like “Hoo-yah” which they also often said.

Ian looked at her, probably expecting her to melt, but she was too stubborn for that. He just nodded his disappointment with a clenched jaw, and turned away. Five of the seals went out the front door to their cars. They would pretend to be returning to the military base. Ian and Joan headed out the kitchen door to his car in the garage. They would pretend to go on a pick-knack … that was a kind of outdoor meal. She heard the door shut, softly but ominously.

Madrene stared at the empty space where Ian had been. What is wrong with me, that I cannot bend, even for the man I love? I have had to act the man for too many years. That must be why I insisted on … Her eyes shot up.

Ian had come back. He stomped up to her, picked her up so her feet barely touched the floor and kissed her handily. Then he left, though still stomping.

Not a word had been exchanged, but they’d both said much.

Men will be men …

For the next three hours, Ian didn’t think about Maddie at all. He couldn’t. When a SEAL, or any special forces operative, went into battle mode, his focus had to be centered on one thing and one thing only: the enemy.

He and Joan went into the park, which was not by any means empty of people. Everyone there was either CIA or SEAL, even that man and woman wheeling a baby carriage, which held not an infant but an AK-47. He and Joan set up a blanket and opened a picnic basket. Ian uncorked a bottle of wine and leaned over to kiss Joan, as if they were lovers enjoying a day in the sun. Joan set out an assortment of cheeses and fruits and smiled up at him.

Then all hell broke loose.

A gunshot, which came from north of the park behind the restrooms, hit Joan in the shoulder and knocked her backward. The shot was probably intended for him, because they would surely want Maddie alive. He pulled out his own pistol and threw himself over Joan, covering her with his body. It was hard to tell from his vantage point who was shooting at whom now, so loud and rapid was the gunfire. He could tell from the firing sounds what kinds of weapons they were, but who was firing, he was in no position to judge. These days, the tangos had just as sophisticated weapons as the U.S. military, thanks to profitable underground arms sales.

Ian would have liked to be up and actively participating in the action, but he would only get in the way at this point. The gunfight lasted only fifteen minutes or so. Even once it was over, he and Joan lay low. They both pulled concealed weapons out and snaked themselves on their bellies over to a thick bush.

In the end, three tangos were dead, two were seriously injured and captured, and two more were in custody for questioning. A successful operation, as far as he could tell. Dozens of SEALs, CIA, police and special ops guys from the other services crowded the park.

He and the other SEALs in his squad stood about for a long time afterward, patting each other on the back. Recounting every aspect of the op and what they’d done right and wrong.

They all went back to the base together and spent another hour or more with the SEAL commander, once again discussing every aspect of their mission, what they might have done differently, what they needed to study for future reference.

After that, he and his squad members went to the Wet and Wild to celebrate and once again pat themselves on the back and wind down from the adrenaline rush that accompanied any op, whether local or OUTCONUS. Cage had called Geek hours ago to tell him that the mission had been successful.

Now, after two beers, Ian decided he wanted to celebrate in the best way possible. With Maddie.

The tango was more than a dance …

Madrene was happy and angry at the same time.

Geek had told her hours ago that the mission had been successful, and, except for a wound in Joan’s shoulder and some abrasions on Sly’s face from pieces of flying metal, everyone was all right on their side. That was a good thing, of course. But she was still fuming over not having been included. She was going to make the brute pay for that chauvinistic move, but not too long. Her relief at his safety made any other emotion petty.

But one hour went by, then two, then three. Still, Ian had not come home.

“They’re probably at the Wet and Wild,” Geek told her.

She arched her brows in question.

“It’s a bar where lots of the military guys hang out. Drink a few beers. Listen to the music. Dance.” Geek must have realized his mistake the minute the word came out. “I mean, after an op, the men like to wind down and rehash—”

“Dance? There are women there?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have orders to keep you here.”

“Then leave me alone or I fear I may wring your neck since you are the only male in sight.”

“You sure you don’t want to practice your letters some more?”

She sliced him with a look that told him exactly what she thought of that suggestion.

“I guess not.” He ducked his head and went to the office to play with his come-pewter.

Madrene sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of the pungent tea Omar had brought her yestermorn. She had much to plan now that the mission was over. Ian had said that he would help her … well, probably help her. With or without him, she needed to either buy a longship or arrange transport to the Norselands; and raise an army, either here or in the Saxon lands. Madrene was hoping, perhaps unrealistically, that Ian would convince his other seals to go with them. That small number of expert fighting men would be better than a far larger number of regular warriors.

A slight knocking noise from the garage door drew her attention. Mayhap it was just the wind, although there was no wind to speak of and certainly not in the garage. When the sound was repeated, she got up and looked down the hall to the closed office door. Geek was probably sulking over her harsh words. Since the danger was over, she walked up to the door and squinted her eyes at the peephole. A man stood there. He had the short cut many military men wore in this place and his long sleeved tea- shert had the letters “U.S. Navy SEAL” on the front. So she opened the door.

“Ensign John Smith here,” he said briskly. “Mac asked me to bring you over to the base. The commander wants to talk to both of you.”

“Oh,” she said. That made sense. “Why didn’t Ian come himself?”

“He’s already in meetings.”

Madrene glanced into the garage, where the mow-tore was running on Ian’s red car. He must have sent this man in his vehicle to get her. She nodded and said, “Let me tell Geek where I’m going.”

“He already knows,” the ensign said, taking her by the elbow. “Hurry. There’s not much time.”

Madrene was puzzled. Why the rush when the danger was over? And another thing: As the end-sign helped buckle her in the seat and backed out of the garage at a rapid pace, she noticed that the interior of the car was different.

“Why is the leather of these seats brown? I thought it was black. And why are you driving north? I thought the base was …” A number of observations came crashing over her then, one after another. The man’s hands were a different color from his face and neck. He was wearing makeup, she realized with amazement; she had learned about makeup from Pretty Boy. She was fairly certain that the end-sign’s hair and eyebrows were not this blond color naturally. In fact, she was beginning to notice some Arabic features, particularly in the shape of the eyes and nose. “Who are you?”

“Shut up, bitch!” the end-sign snarled in Arabic and pulled a weapon … a piss-tole … out of his shirt. “You will to be our bargaining tool for getting Jamal released. You will spill your guts for us as you did for the See-eye-aye.”

“Why doesn’t anyone believe me when I say that I know nothing?” she answered him in Arabic, throwing her hands up in disgust. “You overvalue my usefulness in your ransom attempt. In truth, the people here do not care much for me, except for Ian, and even that is in question. So, if I were you, I would turn around and take me back. Ian might not lop your head off if you reconsider now. But later, who knows what—”

The end-sign used a very, very foul word—a Saxon one—then raised the handle of his weapon to hit her on the back of the head. Her last thought before blackness came over her was, ’Twould seem I am going to take part in the action after all.

Sometimes the road of life has a few speed bumps …

Ian stood and laid some bills on the table at the Wet and Wild for his part of the tab. The adrenaline pumping through his body now was of an entirely different kind. He was ready for battle again, but this time there would be no guns involved. He hoped.

“Running home to the little woman, are you?” Omar asked, grinning at him.

“Pussy-whipped already,” Cage proclaimed.

“Bet you have the ‘I love you, baby, please forgive me’ spiel down pat,” JAM said.

“Better have.” Pretty Boy nodded. “Maddie was royally pissed over being left behind.”

“Sure you don’t wanna stay here and see what kind of action you can rack up?” Sly inquired. “Oops, I forgot. You’ve got action central going for you back home.”

Ian refused to rise to their bait. There was a time he might have been irritated, even angry, that they would dare to speculate on his personal life. But right now, all he cared about was getting home to Maddie and getting on with the rest of his life.

“Uh-oh,” Cage said, glancing over Ian’s shoulder.

Ian turned and said the same thing aloud. “Uh-oh.”

It was Jennifer, his ex-fiancée, and she was headed toward him like a guided missile. He stood his ground and waited for her to come to him.

“Ian,” she said in a husky voice he’d once thought sexy, but which now seemed kind of pathetic. Being of average height, she had to go on tiptoes to reach up and kiss him. He turned his face at the last moment so that her lips grazed his cheek, not his mouth where they were aimed.

The smell of her perfume he would recognize anywhere. A light flowery scent that was not unpleasant, but it held no allure for him now.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “Can we talk?”

“I’m in a hurry, Jen. Can we make it some other time?”

“There was a time when you would have fit me in.” She pouted, which she probably thought was attractive.

He shrugged. “Those days are long gone.”

“Really?” She sidled up closer to him so that her breasts pressed against his chest and he felt her breath close to his chin.

“Really,” he said and put her several feet away from him.

He could tell she was shocked. It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to hook up with him since her divorce, but it was the first time she’d gotten this close. “Is there someone else?”

He didn’t even have to think. “Oh, yeah!”

“You loved me once.”

“I wonder.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, sweetheart, that now I’ve found the real thing, I think what we had was a poor imitation. In fact, I have a lot to thank you for.”

She folded her arms over her chest, probably embarrassed and angry at the same time.

“I think Maddie is the first woman I’ve ever really loved. Oh, and did I mention, Maddie is my wife.”

Jennifer looked as if she might say something nasty to him, but she spun on her heel and stormed away.

He did not care, not one bit.

As he walked toward the exit, his cell phone rang.

“Mac?”

“Yeah.”

It was Geek.

“If you ask me if I know what my wife is doing, I think I might scream,” he teased.

“She’s gone,” Geek said without preamble.

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” He raked his fingers through his hair and felt like pulling it out by the roots. The woman just could not stay put.

“I think she was taken,” Geek went on.

The blood drained from his head and extremities and he had to lean on the wall for support.

The other guys came up beside him, noticing his distress.

“I was in the office,” Geek continued. “You told me the danger was over hours ago. Then I heard your car come into the garage, and I heard Maddie talking to someone, then the sound of the door closing and the car taking off.”

“It was not my car,” he said icily.

“I know that now. I saw the license plate. It had New York plates. I called you as soon as I realized what happened. Dammit, Mac, this is all my fault. I wouldn’t blame you if you recommended me out of SEALs. What a fuck-up!”

“Take it easy, Geek. It’s more my fault than yours. If I had come home right away, or if I’d taken her along like she wanted, none of this would have happened. I’m on my way home. Call the commander and tell him to send some of those CIA super sleuths, as well. They claim they can track anyone. Let’s hope that’s true.”

Ian hung up and looked at his buddies. He didn’t have to explain what had happened. As they made plans to go back to the base and regroup while he returned home, there was only one thing Ian could think:

Where are you, Maddie?

If only she had her favorite sword …

Five days later, Madrene was bored to the point of barminess.

Oh, these miscreants had slapped her face back and forth a few times, and one of them had kicked her in the thigh, and one of them even punched her in the jaw, not to mention the large lump on her head from the piss-tole blow that first day in the car. But those various aches and pains were naught compared to what could have happened, or might still happen.

They questioned and questioned and questioned her about her knowledge of terrorist secrets. No matter how many times she told them she knew nothing, they refused to believe her.

The Shepherds of Allah—the name they gave themselves—were waiting for word from some important villain in their terrorist group. She shivered to think what methods he might use to get her to answer the ridiculous questions. He was coming here by airplane from a country called Eye-ran.

In the meantime, she had been moved from an upstairs bedchamber to this small storage room in the basement. Her captors claimed her constant nagging was giving them a headache. She told them they were giving her an arse ache. That was when she’d been kicked.

She was unrestrained down here because there were no windows, but upstairs her hands had been tied behind her back. She’d learned something interesting while up there. They were in a house in Ian’s neighborhood. Although the man who’d captured her had driven away from this area, he must have been trying to confuse her. Once she was unconscious he must have doubled back.

She had been blessed with one bit of good luck. The reason why the shepherds were not molesting her or harming her was because they believed she was pregnant, and men of their religion revered breeding women. Little did they know, and she was not about to tell them, that she was barren. Who ever would have thought she would be thankful for a weak stomach, but she had been vomiting since that first day, probably due to the head blow. And her stomach had been roiling since then at the unpalatable food they gave her and the fetid air. They put so much garlic in every dish they cooked that the house fairly reeked with it.

All of the men had felt the need to touch her breasts to see if they were real— there was something about men and breasts —and one of the lackwits proclaimed that they must be so big because they were filling with milk for the babe. Men were such halfbrains betimes. This reprieve would not last forever, of course, especially if she got her monthly flux whilst in captivity.

Why do things like this always happen to me?

Where is Ian? Is he worried about me? Is he searching? Of course he would search in the beginning, but has he given up?

I wish I had not been so cold when he was leaving.

At this rate, I will never get back to Norstead.

She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Ian standing in his solar. Come to me, dearling. Here I am. Please come.

There are surprises and then there are SURPRISES …

It had been a week and there was still no sign of Maddie. In fact, the CIA and SEAL command were talking about giving up the search. The D word was not used, but Ian knew they thought that Maddie must be dead.

Operating on coffee and very little sleep, Ian made his way into the base and went out for a solitary five-mile run on the beach. But today, even the mindlessness of long-distance jogging did nothing for him.

He showered, then tried to get some paperwork done in his office. He just kept staring at the picture of himself and Maddie which had been taken by Dan Sullivan in Baghdad. When he’d received it in the mail two days ago, probably from the slimeball, he’d slipped it into the frame which had previously held a picture of himself and his sister and two brothers.

His father, to his surprise, had been a rock for him. Somehow, the man who had been so hard on him seemed to understand his feelings for Maddie. His father had finally flown back to D.C. last night, but he’d pulled every string he could to keep the search going.

Ian heard a soft knock on the door.

“Max! When did you get back?” It was his sister’s brother-in-law, Torolf Magnusson. Normally Cage’s partner, Max had been a pain in the butt to Ian during BUD/S training, and, although he had become a colleague since then, Ian found his constant clowning an irritation. But then Ian suspected he was far too serious himself.

“This morning. Holy crap! I just heard everything that’s been going on here. You got married?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, you probably also heard that I couldn’t hold on to the woman.” He figured he’d better throw that in before Max made a joke of the situation.

“Don’t go blaming yourself.”

Ian shrugged. Everyone told him that, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Is that her?” Max asked, walking up to the side of the desk.

“That’s Maddie,” he said, handing Max the framed photo to look at.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! ” Max cried out, alternately hugging the picture to his chest and gazing at it with incredulity. “It’s impossible. Yes, it’s possible, but, oh, my God! After all these years!”

Ian stood and came around the side of the desk to stand before him. “What’s the problem?”

“Problem? It’s no problem. It’s a miracle.” Max swiped at the tears that were welling in his eyes. “That’s my sister, Madrene.”

Ian felt as if he’d been sucker punched. “No! She said her name was Madrene Olgadottir, not Magnusson.” What an idiotic thing to say! Then, he thought of something else. Wouldn’t it be really ironic if I was now related to this bozo by marriage? Ironic? More like hellish.

Max shook his head. “Women take their mother’s names in my country.”

“Oh.” Another great brainiac observation! Suddenly Ian remembered what had been niggling at his memory from the first time he’d met Maddie. An eerie prickle rippled over his skin. There was a perfect image in his mind of the mesmerizing Norse noblewoman in the painting at Blue Dragon Vineyard. He’d seen the artwork done by Dagny Magnusson, another sister, when he’d attended his sister Alison’s wedding three years ago at the vineyard estate.

Maddie was the woman in the painting.

The Vikings are coming … and coming … and coming …

Within twenty-four hours, Ian felt as if he were living in a Viking psycho ward.

It started the morning after his meeting with Max. He was awakened before dawn from a deep sleep, the first he’d had in a week. And he’d been having a strange dream, too. Maddie had been calling to him, “Come to me, dearling.”

Was she really dead, as others concluded, and calling to him to join her in death? Or was it one of those telepathic messages some people believed in?

Whichever! He made his way out of bed and stumbled groggily to the front door, where a loud pounding was going on nonstop. When he opened it, he jumped back. Five big, fierce-looking men stood there, wearing weird leather battle armor. They carried big-ass swords and battle-axes.

He knew who they all were, having met them before, but they scared him nonetheless. It was like a bad Halloween nightmare. Torolf and Jorund Magnusson, Maddie’s brothers, stood in the back, but up front and way too much in his face were Magnus, Jorund and Geirolf Ericsson, Maddie’s father and uncles, respectively.

“What have you done with my baby?” Magnus asked him gruffly as he faced him nose to nose, backing him up against the foyer wall. Ian was tall, but this guy had to be six-foot-six, and he had a hundred pounds on him. He was big .

“Are you referring to my wife?” Good Lord! I must have a death wish.

“That remains to be proved,” one of the uncles proclaimed.

Uh-oh!

“We’re here to help find her,” the other uncle said.

With swords? Oops! Hope I didn’t say that out loud.

Max and Ragnor were grinning at him.

Magnus came into the hall, dropped his sword and battle-ax to the floor, probably breaking some tiles, and took Ian into a tight bear hug which lifted him on tiptoes. “Do not be afeared, son. We will find Madrene.”

Ian wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were from relief or from being crushed by Attila the Viking.

But then, at the same ungodly hour, his father showed up. He was out of uniform, which was in itself a rarity. He took Ian by the shoulders and said, “I had to come. I couldn’t just sit on my ass in Washington without trying to help.” His father going outside the strictures of military protocol—it was a miracle to Ian, or a nightmare.

Of course, his SEAL buddies showed up, too. What was going on here? Was he sending out psychic messages for help? There were so many people at his house by six a.m. that Ian could barely move. Cage and Omar were cooking scrambled eggs and bacon. Geek was in Ian’s office, showing Ragnor and the uncles the work they’d done so far on locating Maddie. Sly, JAM and Slick were doing sit-ups in the living room. Pretty Boy was making Magnus laugh over Maddie’s makeover. Everyone was drinking beer, at this ungodly hour. One of them, Geirolf, was eating Oreos with his beer.

To top off his nightmare, Sam was behaving really weird. She kept coming up to him and meowing like crazy. He let her outside a dozen times, which he normally didn’t do, but she would immediately scratch to come back in. Like right now. She was screeching like a banshee at the front door. Maybe she was in heat or something. If she got pregnant, he would kill himself. He was pretty sure Jen had had her fixed, but God only knew if that was true; Jen had told him so many lies.

In the midst of all the chaos, Ian went to his bedroom and closed the door firmly. He needed some time to himself. Of course, Sam, who was on her outside rotation, came up to the sliding door on the deck, meowing for entrance. “Make up your mind. In or out,” he grumbled as he let the cat in.

Sam just gave him her look.

Ian flopped down on the bed and folded his arms beneath his neck, staring at the ceiling. “Please, God, let me find Maddie.” He wondered if he should promise to be good, or offer some bribe. He hadn’t done much praying in his sorry life. He settled for just a simple plea. “I don’t know for sure if You’re up there, or if I deserve Your help, but please.” Just for insurance, he added, “You, too, Odin.”

Sam chose that moment to jump onto the bed—which was a real feat for such a fat cat—then walk up his body from thigh to stomach to chest. Putting her cat face right in front of his, she meowed dolefully.

“You miss her, too, don’t you?”

Sam hissed as if she were exasperated with him. She scratched at his chest with one paw, gently, then started to walk away. Looking back at him, she meowed some more. Then she came back and repeated the exercise. Pawing at his chest, walking away, looking at him, then coming back. Sitting up and furrowing his brow, he asked the cat— That was a sign of how far gone he was … talking to a cat! —“Do you want me to follow you?”

He could swear Sam rolled her eyes and meowed, “At last.”

Ian got up, let Sam out, then followed her around to the front of the house. Every couple of feet, Sam would stop and look back at him to see if he was following; then she would continue on her trek. She was probably taking him to a fish store or something. But no, Sam went down the street, crossed over, then started to walk behind a small Cape Cod-style house with an overgrown lawn and shabby exterior.

“Sam, come back here,” he said in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake anyone who might still be asleep in the house. There didn’t seem to be any activity around the place, but he’d seen a red car in the garage through the small glass windows of the door.

Red car? Holy shit! Geek had said the tangos took Maddie away in a red car. No, it was impossible. This would be too much of a coincidence. But then he remembered his prayer less than an hour ago. He glanced skyward and thought, I’ve heard of the power of prayer. If this is what I think it is, You have made me a believer.

He followed Sam to the back of the house, where she sat near the back corner, meowing. There was no basement that he could see, at least no basement windows, but Sam seemed to sense something there.

“Is Maddie down there?” he asked Sam. I’m either crazy or really smart, not only talking to a cat, but expecting an answer.

Sam meowed.

From inside the house, Ian thought he heard someone complain, “It’s that damn cat again.”

Another person said, “I’m going to shoot it.”

Ian looked at Sam, whose ears perked up. Then she shot away toward home.

“No, you’re not. You can’t attract any attention from the neighbors.”

Then another person must have entered the room. This one spoke in Arabic.

Ian’s heart began racing and his heart lifted hopefully. He walked carefully toward the front. Then he took a chance and peered into the garage. Yep, a red Mustang convertible. Sam was sitting there waiting for him on the front sidewalk.

With a joyous spirit, he ran off, a surprisingly agile Sam beside him. When he got back to his house, he rushed into the kitchen, where the whole bunch of them were sitting at his table or standing around, all of them scarfing down the gourmet meal of eggs and beer. The motley bunch looked at him expectantly.

Ian smiled, for the first time in what seemed like forever, and said, “I’ve found Maddie.”

Inside, though, he had one last prayer: “Please, God, let her still be alive.”