Abduction (17 page)

“Yes, it is.”

“Seems like
they just never forget.”

“No, you never
forget.” Denise took the money from him and felt a shiver go down her back.
Shaking it off, she smiled at him and counted out his change.

The man picked
up the bag. “Guess it would hurt even more to lose the one daughter you have
left.”

Denise stared
at him, stunned that anyone could make such a remark. “Yes.”

“Guess we
should just hope nothing bad ever happens to her, then, huh?” Smiling coldly,
he walked out of the shop.

Denise ran her
hands over her arms, trying to rid herself of the sudden chill. He was just. .
.strange. Too strange.

But his words
echoed in her head the rest of the day.
“Guess we should just hope nothing
bad ever happens to her, then, huh?”

chapter
13

Tuesday, April 18

N
a
ncy Darrington looked furtively over her shoulder
as she nudged open the motel room door and slipped inside. Quickly she locked
the door and drew the faded drapes across the single small, dirty window.
The
whole room is dirty,
she thought as she looked around the dismal
accommodations. But what could she expect for twenty bucks a night and a hotel
clerk who saw nothing
and said nothing?

She spread a
quilt on the bed before placing the child on it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but
it’s the best we can do for now.”

The room was
almost squalid with orange shag carpet, yellow striped wallpaper, and an orange
and yellow plaid bedspread that she couldn’t even be sure was reasonably clean.

Despair welled
up as she sat down next to the sleeping child. She wanted to give up. She
wanted to pull the covers over her head and never see daylight again. She
couldn’t do that.
Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t think about how close
anyone might be. Don’t think about what’s waiting if they do catch up.

No child
should have to live in a house where the mother cringed every time the father
spoke and the tension was thick enough to hang drapes on. That man didn’t love
his child. And he didn’t love his wife. He was a control freak who just liked
to see people jump when he opened his mouth to bluster.

And she wasn’t
going to let it continue. So she took the child and ran. But how long could she
keep running?

Yawning, she
reached over and ran her fingers gently over the child’s soft hair. Forever, if
she had to.

#

JJ walked into
his office, flipped on the lights, and dropped into his chair. He was
bone-weary tired and ready to pass out. He looked at Matt through drooping eyes
that he was too exhausted to keep open. “Please put me out of my misery.”

Matt draped his jacket over a chair and sat down.
“This guy is threatening to kill her. Don’t you think we should try to protect
her?”

It took JJ’s
brain a few seconds to connect the dots and figure out what Matt was talking
about. He shrugged. “I’ve asked Harris for some extra help. I’m waiting on
him.” He turned his attention to the fingerprint report on the note from the
killer. Zoe had been smart enough not to touch the document and leave any
fingerprints. So had the killer.

And there were no fingerprints on Gina Sarentino’s
hair ribbon.

The
wildflowers were also untraceable.

Bottom line?
They had nothing. Frustrated, JJ shoved the fingerprint report into the
Sarentino file and leaned back in his chair. He looked up, hope flaring as
Gerry walked in. “What have we found out about our mysterious housekeeper?”

Gerry flipped open his notepad. “I’ve been trying
to trace all three names. The landlord didn’t bother to check up on her references
because she seemed like such a nice lady. I did. No one has ever heard of her.
She paid her deposit for the house in cash. Always paid the rent on time. In
cash. I can’t find any car regis
tered
to any of those three names in this state, and definitely not a Chrysler.”

JJ stroked his
chin. “Did you check surrounding states?”

“Working on
that now.”

JJ stood up.
“Let me know when you have something.”

Gerry nodded
and went back to his work. JJ walked over to the window and stared across the
parking lot. Zoe had guts; he had to give her that. When he got the call from
dispatch, it had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to get back to her house. She
hadn’t touched the flowers or the attached note but had left them on the front
porch for him to retrieve.

She hadn’t cried, hadn’t whimpered, and hadn’t
demanded protection.

Guts.

And a smile that sent shivers up his back. And,
he was beginning to realize, these weren’t bad shivers. They were the kind of
shivers that made him want to bring out that smile every time he saw her. The
kind that made him think of her when he didn’t want to.

There was strength in her he didn’t understand.
And vulnerability she hid from everyone. She was part kitten and part pit bull
terrier, and he couldn’t figure out which one intrigued him the most.

Everything
about her did.

Except for the
fact that she claimed to be a psychic.

That drove him
nuts. It ranked right up there with the fact that she knew how to push his
buttons—did so whenever she felt like it. Which seemed to be pretty often.

No matter how
much he tried to think of anything else, she would slip into his thoughts as
quietly as a soft wind and blow everything out of his mind except her.

And the fact
that there was a killer stalking her.

#

“This guy is a
killer.” Daria combed out Zoe’s hair and carefully snipped the ends. “Aren’t
you worried? He knows where you live. And he’s obviously nuts.”

“JJ has the
note. They’re going to test it for fingerprints.”

“And that’s
it?” Daria paused, her scissors waving through the air. “What about protection
for you?”

“I don’t need
protection.”

“Bull. If this
guy has it in his mind to kill you, you need protection.” She lifted another
strand of hair and began snipping again, but her movements were agitated now.
“He could break in here at any time, and then what?”

“He’s not
going to get to me. I have an excellent alarm system.”

“Alarm systems
aren’t perfect,” Daria snapped as she combed out the hair. “Come stay with me.”

“No, Daria.”
Zoe sighed. How could she possibly make anyone understand? “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be
dead! This guy is not someone to mess with!”

“I’m not
taking this as a joke, Daria. Honest, I’m not.”

Daria walked
around Zoe’s kitchen chair, scissors and comb in hand, and looked Zoe in the
eye. “This guy wants you dead. Do you understand that?”

Zoe met
Daria’s eyes. “Yes.”

“I don’t think
you do. Any sane person would be upset, worried, and at the very least, ready
to hide until the police catch this guy.”

“He just wants
to scare me off the case. He’s not into killing adults.”

Daria’s mouth
dropped along with her hands. “You really believe that garbage, don’t you?” She
slammed the scissors down on the kitchen table. “You listen to me, girl. This
is not a joke. This guy said that he was going to plant you as a weed among his
flowers. He means it. Now, if you don’t request some kind of protection, I’m
going down to the police station and screaming my head off until someone is
parked in a police car in your front yard!”

#

Ted was just
getting off the phone when his boss, Mr. O’Connell, stepped into view. He
turned his chair and scooted back, giving Mr. O’Connell a little more room to
fit his wide girth into the small cubicle.

“Mr.
O’Connell.” Ted swallowed hard. O’Connell didn’t venture from his office unless
it was an emergency.

“Ted, by any
chance have you spoken to Miss Bubeck lately?”

“No, not in a couple of days. Passing in the hall
sort of thing. Why?”

“She hasn’t
shown up for work the last two days. We’ve tried calling and her phone has been
disconnected.”

“Uh-oh.” Ted
didn’t know what else to offer.

O’Connell
hitched up his pants. “Yes, well, I was just wondering if perhaps you might
have heard from her.”

“No, sir, I’m
afraid not. She hasn’t called me.”

“And you
didn’t notice that she hasn’t been in?”

Ted lifted his
chin. “We’re in the last week of the budget crunch. I’ve got my hands full with
Margaret out having a baby and Stephen in the hospital having knee surgery. I
told Lana to handle any problems with the staff until I got this report down.
Obviously, someone not showing up for work didn’t rise high enough on Lana’s
priority list.”

“Well, now
you’ve been told.”

Ted stood to
his feet. “I’ll go talk to Lana now and see if I can find out anything. I’ll
get back to you as soon as I have something.”

O’Connell
nodded and lumbered out of the cubical. Ted ran his fingers through his hair.
As if he didn’t have more important things on his mind. Not once had O’Connell
said one word about Jessica. Not one word of sympathy. Anyone else would have
taken time off to stay home with his wife. Not good ol’ Ted. No, he had come in
and done his work and then some. And what did he get for it?

Shafted.

chapter
14

Wednesday, April 19

K
aren knew that if she stayed in the house one more
minute, she’d go straight-jacket insane. Grabbing her gardening gloves from the
closet shelf, she escaped into the yard, determined to pull weeds until she was
too exhausted to think. To worry. To miss Jessie.

What had the kidnapper done to her precious
daughter? Smothered her? Starved her? Taken her away to raise as his or her
own?

A tear dripped
off her nose and fell onto her arm, sliding inside her glove. She ignored it.
“Why, God? Why did you give me such a precious child and then snatch her away
from me? Why are you breaking my heart like this?”

“God isn’t
doing this to you, Karen.”

Karen jumped, unaware that she had been speaking
aloud and equally unaware that anyone had heard her. “Rene. You startled me.”

Rene smiled,
but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knelt down next to Karen. “I’m sorry.
How are you holding up?”

“How do you
think?” Karen pulled at a weed. “It’s Wednesday already. Another week is nearly
gone by without any word on my daughter. I just don’t know why this is
happening.”

“Bad things happen to good people. We do have an
enemy, you
know.”

Karen tossed the weed into a pile on the sidewalk
and smoothed
mulch over the gaping hole. The last thing she needed was
polite platitudes. She wanted action. “No one is taking Jessica’s disappearance
seriously. The press is more interested in covering the disappearance of the
other little girls.” Her head jerked up. “I don’t mean that those girls aren’t
important!”

“I know,” Rene
assured her softly.

“I just want
someone to look for Jess. I didn’t do this. I would never hurt my baby.”

“I know.” Rene
reached out and touched Karen’s shoulder. “Karen, part of walking out our faith
is handling the curve balls life throws at us. The Lord is there, every step of
the way, whether we feel it or not. You need to hold on to your faith.”

Karen shook
her head. “I don’t have any faith left, Rene. I keep asking God why and He
doesn’t seem to have an answer for me.”

“He already
gave you His answer, Karen. He told you He’d never leave you or forsake you.”

“Well, He has
forsaken me.”

“No, He
hasn’t. We don’t know what He’s doing in all this, but He is working through
it. I know He is.”

“Is He going
to bring my baby back to me?” Karen asked, her voice strained by desperation.

Rene’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned
forward and pulled Karen into her arms. “I don’t know, Karen. I can’t promise
you that He will. But I know He’s hurting, too, and that He’s with you
throughout this. Let Him comfort you. Let Him help you. He loves you so much.”

#

On Wednesday afternoon, Denise Shefford called her
daughter and invited her to dinner. When Zoe tried to hedge out of it, Denise
pushed. Zoe relented and arrived at her mom’s house promptly at six.

Denise Shefford was, by anyone’s standards, a
handsome woman.
At the age of fifty-four, she could still pass for
forty. Her blond hair hid the gray well, her body was trim, and wrinkles
weren’t inclined to take up residence. If you looked closely, you would notice
the slackness in the jaw or the looseness of the throat. But one was disposed
to miss those things and notice the deep and sometimes penetrating sadness that
dulled her gray-green eyes.

It wasn’t that
she fought age; she didn’t think much of it, really. To her way of thinking,
age was a mere slap in the face among life’s many blows.

It was those
other blows that she still struggled with—an un-faithful husband, a broken
home, a daughter’s death. A few lines on her face were hardly worth noticing.
She had long since found a way to ignore the pain of Keyes’ betrayal and
desertion, but not the pain and horror of death.

At least she didn’t
have the one lingering question that most parents in her position had. She
didn’t wonder what Amy would have looked like had she lived. She had Zoe.