Catnapped! (A Matchmaker Mystery Book 3) (17 page)

“I’ve made such a mess of this.”

“You? How could you be responsible for any of this?”

“Because I’m the one who figured it out.” He got out of his chair. “I’m the one who started this whole mess.”

Before he could explain any more, Jane called from the other room, “They’re here!”

Gerald headed for the door, Alyssa hot on his heels.

“Alyssa, you can’t go,” Jane called as they breezed past them and outside to the pair of trucks waiting in the driveway.

“We know where they’ve got him,” Tom called from the front passenger seat of Jackson’s vehicle.

“How?” Alyssa asked.

“Your big friend went to the hospital and talked to the guy who tried to kill you at the park. Apparently, he’s pretty persuasive.”

Alyssa looked to Roscoe, who was getting out of the truck Mauricio drove, for confirmation. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Gerald, you ride with Mauricio,” Tom ordered.

Instead of getting into the truck, Gerald spun around and grabbed Alyssa in a tight hug. “Your message isn’t
save her
,” he whispered. “It’s her vase.”

Before she could ask what that meant, he ran over and hopped in Mauricio’s truck. The pair of vehicles tore out of the driveway and raced away, leaving Alyssa and Roscoe to watch them.

When they were out of sight, she muttered, “I don’t suppose
her vase
means anything to you?”

“Mildred’s?”

She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“She almost died in the house fire because she wouldn’t leave that or the picture of her first husband,” Roscoe explained.  “Why? Does it mean something to you?”

“Tell me about this vase.”

“I dunno. It’s old. Pink. Ceramic. Has a weird lid. She keeps fertilizer or something in it.”

Alyssa considered what Gerald had revealed to her and suddenly Roscoe’s description made sense,
if
it was something else.

“Fertilizer or ash?” she asked excitedly.

Roscoe thought about it for a moment. She saw the truth dawn on his face. “It’s not a vase. It’s an urn. It’s not fertilizer. It’s someone’s ashes.”

“But if Gerald’s right, they’re not the ashes she thinks they are.”

His captors were back. He had no idea how long they’d been gone. The sensory deprivation was messing with his sense of time.

“This is all Brady’s fault,” the man in the bird mask said.

In the distance, Pete heard a sickening thud, and then a car alarm went off.

“Take care of that,” the man in the bird mask told Brass Knuckles.

As the third man left, Pete swiveled his gaze toward the bird. He knew that voice.

“If that idiot girl he’s run off with hadn’t interfered, Brady would have never gotten involved.” The man pulled his mask off. “And we wouldn’t have ended up here,” Ralph concluded.

Pete stared at Mildred’s stepson.

Ralph grinned maniacally. “Care to wager a guess on why I let you see my face, Mr. Hanlon?”

Pete remained stoically silent. He knew why, but he wasn’t going to give the prick the satisfaction of hearing him say it. Instead, he stared past him, at the doorway. That’s when he saw a movement. It was fast and no one else noticed it because they were all watching him, but he knew he wasn’t alone. The cavalry had arrived.

Disappointed, Ralph frowned. “Because I’m going to kill you.”

“You?” Pete mocked, trying to keep his captors focused on him. “Are you going to kill me? Or will you have one of your little girlie, mask-wearing henchmen do it?

“I’ll do it!” Ralph shouted, grabbing for the gun held by his cohort.

Everything was a blur once they started arguing over the weapon. Pete tried to kick the third kidnapper, and in doing so, tipped his chair over so he couldn’t see what was going on. There was a swarm of activity, a chorus of curses and groans, and then silence.

Pete held his breath, unsure which side had won the battle.

“Need a hand, little brother?” Tom asked.

“Naaah,” Pete joked weakly. “I got this.”

“You seem different than when we first met,” Roscoe asked as he drove Alyssa across town to meet with Mildred.

“How so?”

“I thought you were a loner, but now…”

“I was a cop,” she said quietly. “Did you know that?”

Roscoe shook his head.

“And now I’m not. I miss that camaraderie. Feeling like people have my back. Knowing I’m part of something.”

“I have your back,” Roscoe told her firmly.

“I know.”

“So do Pete and Gerald and Jane.”

She nodded, tears prickling the back of her eyes. She knew that.  Roscoe was right. She was different. She’d found a new tribe to belong to.

Roscoe shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “You know my story, right? What happened?”

“Pete told me a little,” she confirmed.

“My sister, Betty, she’s one of those people born under a dark cloud. Bad luck. Worst taste in men. Terrible choices. And I was always trying to make it better. Take care of her, ya know?”

Alyssa nodded.

“I had that fight with her junkie boyfriend and he ended up dead. I ended up with nothing. No job. No family. No friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa murmured, patting his arm.

“I don’t usually do that.

“Do what?”

“Unload on people.”

“I’m not people. I’m your friend.” The words rolled smoothly off her tongue because they were true.

“Thanks for saying that.” He pulled the truck into a parking spot in front of the building they were going into.

She heard the doubt in his tone. “I meant it. We’re a team. That’s what friends do.”

Twisting in his seat, he looked her in the eye. “They share things?”

She grinned. “Like apple tart.”

“Sure.” He sniffed indignantly. “Ignore my sparkling personality and use me for my baked goods.”

Laughing, she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

That’s when the rear windshield shattered.

A sharp crack made her instinctively duck a millisecond before the broken glass fell inward.

“What the—?” Roscoe bellowed.

“Gun!” she shouted, dragging him downward.

She huddled on the truck’s floor, while Roscoe, too big to slide beneath the steering wheel, draped himself off the middle console and gearshift. They waited for the next shot, but it never came.

“What should we do?” he whispered.

She didn’t have a clue. “I don’t suppose you have a gun?”

“Actually…” He fumbled with his keys and handed her one. “Glove compartment.”

She glanced upward. The glove compartment was over her head. If she moved to unlock it, she risked exposing herself to the shooter.

“Wait,” Roscoe whispered desperately. “I forgot I moved it after I got clocked at the Michelman house.” He stared at her intently. “It’s in the center console. It’s loaded, but the safety’s on.”

She shook her head, realizing he wanted her to make a grab for it. The only way she’d be able to do that would be if he lifted himself off of it, which could very well put him in the sights of the shooter.”

“Blow the horn,” she urged. “Keep pushing it in a random pattern and someone will notice. Someone will call the cops.”

He reached toward the horn. “Eight bullets.”

He threw himself upward and off the console, opening it as he rose up.

Despite being horrified by his self-sacrificing choice, she automatically reached for the pistol, fully expecting to be covered with his blood by the time she picked it up.

But she wasn’t. She retrieved the gun and he lay across the console again, without another shot being fired.

“Are you hurt?” she asked disbelievingly.

“I’m fine.”

“That was really stupid. What were you thinking?” she whisper-screamed.

“That I wanted to give my friend a fighting chance,” he hissed back.

They froze in place, staring at each other.

“Maybe they’re gone,” he suggested finally.

“You folks okay in there?” a man called.

Alyssa turned the safety of the gun off.

“I’m Xander,” the man continued. “I’m a friend of Pete’s. And Jackson.” He hesitated. “And Tom. Sorta.”

Roscoe eyed Alyssa. “What do you think?”

She chewed her bottom lip, trying to think of an answer a true friend of Pete would know. She could tell from the location of his voice that he was slowly circling the truck.

“Look,” Xander offered. “I’d call them, so they could confirm it, but I left my phone upstairs. At least just tell me that you’re both okay.”

“Ask him to name Pete’s brothers,” Alyssa whispered.

“Who are Pete’s brothers?” Roscoe shouted.

“Tom and Danny.”

She tightened her grip on the gun. Wrong answer.

“And Geoff, but they kind of disowned him,” Xander continued.

“Tell him to move in front of the truck,” Alyssa whispered.

“Step in front of the vehicle,” Roscoe boomed in his most authoritative voice. “You’re not going to shoot me, are you?” Xander asked nervously, complying with command.

“Maybe,” Roscoe shot back.

“You want your gun back?” Alyssa whispered.

“I’m a lousy shot.”

“Okay then, on three we get up,” she ordered. “One. Two. Three.”

They both popped up in their seats simultaneously. She drew a bead on Xander who had his hands raised in surrender. “I come in peace,” he said weakly, staring at her gun.

“Put your hands on the hood,” Alyssa ordered, keeping the gun trained on him.

Roscoe whipped out his phone and punched in a number. “You know a Xander?” he asked whoever answered.

He listened to the reply and then asked, “Who’s got a better three-point shot, Tom or Jackson?”

“Mauricio,” Xander replied without hesitation.

Hearing a bark of laughter from whoever Roscoe was in contact with, Alyssa lowered her weapon. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Xander replied easily. “I’d do the same thing if someone was taking pot shots at me. Does this mean I can quit feeling up the truck?”

“Sure,” she chuckled, turning the safety of the gun back on before handing it to Roscoe, and climbing out of his vehicle.

Straightening, Xander took a good look at her, assessing.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I heard about you after the wedding.”

“You weren’t there?” She didn’t remember seeing him.

He shook his head. “I was, as they say, otherwise indisposed.”

A truck pulled up to them with Mauricio behind the wheel and Pete in the passenger seat.

Relief made Alyssa sag against the truck. Pete was safe. Dashing away a couple of tears, she pasted on a smile.

Jumping out of the truck, he ran toward her and swept her up in a giant bear hug. He swung her around in a circle, which made all of her injuries from her fall throb, but she didn’t care. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She kissed him, needing to drink him in, to prove to herself that he was there. That he was whole and unharmed.

He kissed her back with the same kind of wild abandon she felt. When he finally broke off the kiss, they were both gasping for breath as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Mauricio said gruffly, from where he stood a few feet away, “But we’ve got to get back.”

Pete nodded. “I can’t stay,” he told her in a tone with laden with regret as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

Confused, she turned to glare at Mauricio for taking Pete away from her. He had the good graces to look away.

“We promised,” Pete said, bringing her attention back to him.

“Promised who?”

“The police. Tom and Gerald stayed behind to talk to them. I said I’d be right back.”

He pulled her close to him again, enveloping her in his warmth and strength. She closed her eyes, needing to memorize every detail of the magical moment.

“I just needed to make sure you were okay first,” Pete explained. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m better than okay,” she murmured, snuggling even closer.

“It was Ralph. We don’t have the details yet, but it was him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He tried to kill me.”

She shivered as though everything in her body needed to ward off that thought. “If that had happened…”

“But it didn’t. The guys got to me in time.”

Alyssa glanced in Mauricio’s direction. Instead of appearing impatient like she’d anticipated, he just looked… wistful?

Pete gingerly disentangled himself from her. “I don’t know how long this will take, but once I’m done, would it be okay if I came to see you?”

“You’ll be in big trouble if you don’t, mister.” She playfully punched his shoulder and was rewarded with a monster grin.

Pete turned to Xander, who was perched on the hood of a car, watching their exchange like he was viewing a drive-in movie. “You’ve got this?”

His friend nodded. “I just need to know what you need me to do with the shooter.”

Pete squinted. “What
did
you do with him?”

Alyssa stiffened, sensing a new tension in Pete.

“I stuck him in the trunk of his car,” his friend replied casually.