Desperate Choices (12 page)

Max pushed the speed limits racing back to New Orleans. Theresa had been shaken by her dream, a grim vision of death. If her prophetic dream was true…he didn’t want to think about it.

He dealt with realities—hard, concrete facts—not intuition or dreams. As far as he was concerned, Tommy had been in danger from the time he’d gone missing. Each day that passed with him not home, the feeling in his gut, what he used to call his cop’s instincts, went further into overdrive. Chances were, if Tommy wasn’t found soon, he’d never make it back. Any cop knew, the longer a child is missing, the less likely he’ll be found.

Now, here was Theresa having nightmares about a dead kid.
A psychic warning or a figment of an overactive and overwhelmed mind, trying to deal?

He dropped her off at her apartment before heading to his office. The glare of the overhead fluorescent bulb buzzed, its harsh light flooding the rented space. Max froze. His desk was overturned, papers tossed everywhere. That mountain of filing he’d spent weeks procrastinating about blanketed his office in a layer of white pages, ripped and torn. Books were pulled from shelves. Some had ripped bindings, others lay with pages open where they landed.

Careful not to touch anything, he walked farther into the room, checking for anything missing or stolen. His gray leather chair was the only piece of furniture in the room not upended. A single sheet of paper rested on the worn seat.

Reaching down he carefully lifted the paper by one corner. He flipped it over to stare at the block letters, their edges ragged and torn as if cut from old newspapers or magazines.

STOP LOOKING FOR THE BOY. YOU WON’T FIND HIM. FOR EVERYBODY’S SAKE, QUIT LOOKING OR THINGS WON’T BE SO GOOD FOR YOU OR YOUR BLONDE LADYFRIEND.

Fingers shaking, Max unclipped his cell phone from his belt and dialed 9-1-1. Assured the police were on their way his second call was to Remy.

“Hey, bro. Need you to do something for me. No questions, okay? Get over to Theresa’s place right now and keep an eye on her. No, I’ll be over later, but it’ll take some time, maybe a couple hours.”

He knew his brother had questions, but right now he didn’t have time to spell it out for him.

“Max, what the hell—”

He interrupted Remy in midprotest. “Look, I need a pair of eyes I can trust watching her back right now. She’s been threatened.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

Max’s shoulders drooped. He knew he wouldn’t relax until he was with Theresa, and could hold her in his arms to reassure himself she was okay.

The sound of footsteps outside his office doorway announced the police’s arrival. Their professional gazes swept the scene and the destruction of his office.

“This was on the seat of the chair.” Max handed the threatening note to the officer, and watched as he placed it in an evidence bag. They’d run it for fingerprints as well as dust the entire office. He had a gut feeling they wouldn’t find anything. Somebody wanted to make a real statement here, but he didn’t think they were stupid. They wouldn’t have left any evidence behind.

With this letter, though, Max had solid proof Tommy hadn’t run away. He’d been kidnapped.

***

Theresa opened the door to find Remy on the other side. A quick look at his face and she knew something was up. Having known him for nearly half her life, she could always tell when he tried to hide something, and he was firing on all cylinders right now. Varying emotions flitted across his face, so rapid she couldn’t get a handle on what he was feeling.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I mean—I just stopped by to see how things went in Mississippi.”

“Sure you did.” She gave him a good hard look and knew he was lying through his teeth. “Hogwash. You had to work tonight. Max sent you here. Why?”

With a sheepish grin, Remy grabbed her into a hug, swinging her around in circles, once, twice, three times, holding her close.

As a distraction, it worked for all of two seconds, before Theresa pushed firmly against his chest, freed herself and stepped back. “Uh, uh, not gonna work, Slick. Why’d Max send you?”

“Don’t know.” Remy’s lips cocked up in a wicked grin.

Theresa sent him a probing look.

“Really,” he swore, “I don’t know why he sent me. He said he’d explain when he got here.”

“Okay. I’ll wait. Since it’ll be a while before he gets here, let’s go upstairs.”

“How do you know how long it’ll take him to get here?” he asked. Theresa gave him a mysterious smile in response.

Remy smacked a hand against his forehead, making a “duh” sound.

“Right, Ms. Psychic. You know all and see all. You wanna tell me why I’m here then?”

She grinned, suppressing a laugh. Grasping his hand, she pulled him through the kitchen and up the narrow staircase to her apartment to wait for Max.

***

Max didn’t even pause when he reached Theresa’s place. He slid open the back door and strode inside. A glance confirmed her shop was closed up tight, the lights extinguished. He heard the quiet murmur of voices followed by a roar of laughter. Recognizing his brother’s booming tone, he took the stairs two at a time, drawing up short when he reached the top.

Theresa sat in an overstuffed chair covered with a floral pattern in sage greens, creams and peach tones, the colors soft and muted. His brother stood directly behind her. He was pulling a hairbrush through the length of her long blond hair. The strands shone, highlighted by the gleam of light projecting from a cream-colored lamp.

Max watched as one slow stroke followed the next. Theresa’s eyes were closed, her full lips curved upwards at the corners. Her face glowed in the diffused light as the brush made its sensual trip down the length of her hair, guided by his brother’s hand.

The ease and familiarity of his brother’s grip on the brush sent a surge of jealousy racing through Max, unexpected and unwarranted, he knew. His mind told him there was no reason to be jealous of his own brother.

His heart, however, didn’t follow the same logic as his brain. It ached at seeing another man’s hands on his woman. The thought made him pause.
His woman.
It felt right. Even before
last night, it was the truth. He’d been running from his feelings for years, hiding from the fact he was in love with Theresa.

He should have felt pole-axed by the admission, but he didn’t. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing he had ever done, to let it finally come out, an accepted and acknowledged fact. He was in love with her. He wanted a chance at a future with her. In order for that to happen, though, he had to keep her safe.

“Hey, guys.” Both heads turned toward him. The hairbrush stopped its momentum, a brief respite, before continuing its hypnotic journey through the length of Theresa’s hair.
Damn,
he thought,
I’m jealous of a bloody hairbrush getting to touch her when I can’t.

Stomping across the short distance, he yanked the brush from his brother’s hand. Remy relinquished it without a struggle, holding up both hands in surrender as he stepped back. Max knew Remy fought not to laugh, a battle he was losing, so he punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

Stepping around to the front of the chair, he knelt in front of Theresa and reached out his hand. He ran his fingertip along her lower lip. Her breath hitched at his gentle touch, her eyes staring into his. He leaned in, caught in her gaze, and replaced his fingertip with his lips. His kiss was a whisper of touch, a quick flick of his tongue along the seam of her lips. His tongue slid forward when her mouth opened in sweet greeting to his penetration, slick and wet.

The sound of Remy’s smothered laughter kept him from deepening his kiss. He pulled back reluctantly.

“Hi, honey. You okay?” He kept his voice soft, caring.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Max raised his eyes to meet his brother’s. Remy just shrugged and shook his head.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Theresa shook her finger under his nose. “He hasn’t told me anything. He didn’t have to. I knew you’d sent him the minute he walked in the door. I want to know why.”

“Me, too,” Remy chimed in.

Max led Theresa over to the sofa, pulling her down next to him, close enough that he could keep his arm wrapped around her. The need to touch her, to know at this moment she was safe nearly overwhelmed him. He motioned for Remy to take the chair Theresa had vacated.

“After I dropped you here this afternoon, I went to my office. I wanted to make some copies of the sketch we picked up in Mississippi, distribute it to some of the guys on the force, give Remy a copy, and ask around a bit.” His gaze met Remy’s as he spoke.

“When I got to the office, it had been trashed. Somebody was looking for something. I’m not sure what but the place was torn apart. I found a note on my chair. It was from the jackass who has Tommy, warning me to stop looking.”

“Son of a…” Remy’s voice broke off at the look on Theresa’s face.

“That’s not all, though, is it?” she chided him.

“I called the cops, gave them the note and left them taking fingerprints, though I doubt they’re going to find anything.”

“Max, do you think I’m stupid? You’d never have sent Remy over here, without a word, for no reason. There was more to the note, wasn’t there?”

Max glanced down at their entwined fingers, not wanting to give her a direct answer, but knowing it would come out inevitably. “There was a not-so-subtle threat against me…and you.”

***

Remy exploded out of his chair, rage burning in his eyes. “He threatened you? Some scum-sucking piece of garbage threatened you?”

Theresa sat with her mouth ajar as her friend rained down obscenities on the head of the kidnapper, detailing what he was going to do to him when they caught him. She’d never heard Remy use that kind of language in all the time she’d know him. Sure, he was a cop, and that’s pretty much how cops talked most of the time. She’d been around enough of them to know that. But he’d always been careful to watch his language around her.

“Yeah,” Max said when Remy paused for breath. “They threatened me. That’s no big deal, I can handle it. I’m more worried about Theresa.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself,” she protested.

“Nobody’s saying you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself. But we’re talking about a criminal, a kidnapper, who has threatened you. That makes it personal.”

***

While they argued, Remy answered his cell phone and moved to the other side of the room in search of a moment of privacy. A minute later he broke into their conversation. “Okay, I’ve got to go to work tonight. They’re too short-handed for me to take off. After tonight, I’ve called in some favors with the captain, and I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

“Thanks, bro.” Max left Theresa’s side long enough to pull his brother into a tight hug.

“I’ll take tonight, and we’ll work out the details in the morning.”

“Not a problem.” Remy nodded. “You’re both too important to me for some maniac to get away with screwing around with your lives. We’ll catch this bastard and he’ll pay.” Walking to Theresa, Remy knelt in front of her. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. Her mouth was set in a stubborn line, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Ter, babe, listen to Max. We know you can take care of yourself. We’re not questioning that.” Leaning forward, his voice barely above a whisper, he confided, “I’m more worried about him right now. This whole thing has him off-kilter. Between Tommy and you, things are spinning out of control, and that’s not something he’s used to. Let him take care of you tonight.”

Theresa glanced up at Max for a fleeting moment then looked back at Remy. She nodded her head, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, got up and walked into her bedroom, giving the brothers few minutes alone.

“Don’t push her too hard, Max. She’s right, you know, she’s tough. She’s had to be to have lived the life she has and made it through whole.”

“I know. She’s not the problem. It’s that sick freak who’s got Tommy out there. Nobody knew she was working with me on this except Tommy’s parents and Brad. None of them would have said a word. How’d he find out about Theresa?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. I’ll be back by in the morning, and we’ll work out a schedule so somebody’s always with her.”

Walking out of Theresa’s apartment, Remy frowned. His brother was finally coming to his senses about Theresa. Looking upward at the light shining out of the window one story above, Remy made a solemn vow. Nothing and no one was going to tear his brother and Theresa apart.
God help the person who tries.

Max sat up and groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d spent a miserable night on the sofa in Theresa’s living room after Remy left. She was being unreasonable. A direct threat had been made against her, and she thought she could handle it on her own.
Not a chance I’m gonna let that happen.

He’d planned on spending another night like the one they’d shared in Mississippi, holding her and making love till the early morning hours. She had other ideas.

She’d come out of her bedroom right after Remy left, carrying a pillow and blanket. Tossing them onto the sofa, she walked back into her room and closed the door, a solid buffer between them. Max felt she was being unreasonable about the whole situation, but he wasn’t going to push her.
Not yet, anyway.

Forehead on his palms, he groaned again at the sledgehammer pounding in his brain.

“Something wrong? Get up on the wrong side of the sofa?” At Theresa’s quiet voice his head snapped up. The scent of coffee permeated the air. He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, before he blindly reached in the direction of her voice. Seconds later a steaming mug of coffee filled his hand. Eyes closed, he lifted the cup and drank.

“Thanks, hon. I’ve got to tell you, this couch has to be one of the most uncomfortable ones I’ve ever slept on.” He stood and stretched, joints creaking audibly, his shoulders stiff from his nocturnal contortions. He scratched a hand over his naked stomach. In deference to Theresa’s modesty, he kept his boxers on, but the rest of his clothes were folded over the back of a chair.

He could feel Theresa’s eyes on him, his morning erection growing even harder at the knowledge that she watched him, desire in her gaze. “Still mad at me?”

“No. I’ve had time to think about what you and Remy said. Maybe—and I mean just maybe—you’re both right. If the person who has Tommy knows I’m working with you, he could see me as a threat. Plus, after that dream yesterday, I think this person is more dangerous than we ever thought. So, I’m willing to let you keep an eye on things. For the moment.”

“Glad you see things more clearly this morning, babe. Now, come here.” He sat his coffee down on the end table then spread his arms wide. Theresa stepped into them, her hands sliding around him, fingertips gliding up his back, caressing his shoulders. Her light touch sent a wave of lust straight to his groin. He’d woken up hard, thinking about her, and her touch magnified his desire, hardening his shaft to a painful stiffness.

Max dipped his head, nuzzling his nose to hers before claiming her mouth. She tasted fresh, a mixture of coffee, toothpaste and the unique taste of Theresa herself. His tongue slid forward, caressing hers. He eased back to playfully nip her lower lip, catching it between his teeth and tugging. He traced it with the tip of his tongue before invading her mouth. A groan escaped as her breasts pressed against his chest.

“I can come back in an hour, if you’d like.” Remy’s barely suppressed laughter had the two of them springing apart. He held up a bag in one hand, waving it hypnotically back and forth, the Café du Monde logo prominently displayed.

“Of course, if I leave, I’m taking these with me.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Theresa snatched it out of Remy’s hand and headed for the stairs. “There better be beignets in here.”

Theresa’s voice trailed behind her as she headed down the stairs. “Get dressed, Max, and meet us in the kitchen. We’ve got plans to make.”

Max raced to dress. Remy would hog all the food if he didn’t hurry. His fingers were still working the buttons on his shirt when he reached the bottom step. Remy sat at the kitchen table and Theresa stood by the sink, neatly arranging the pastries onto a plate. The morning sunlight angled in through the window and caught the rose stained-glass suncatcher. Prisms of color, vivid pinks and blushes of red, sparkled onto the countertop. Max thought he’d never seen a sight more breathtaking than Theresa at that precise moment, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the morning. She took his breath away.

Although she’d acknowledged the danger of the situation, he knew he still had a fight on his hands to get her to accept any type of protection. She was a stubborn, independent woman. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

“I’ve taken some personal time, so I’m free for as long as you need me.” Remy’s voice broke the quiet of the kitchen. Max nodded, taking another sip from his coffee, his gaze darting to Theresa. She’d paused, the slightest hesitation, one hand still inside the bag as she removed the beignets. Completing the motion, she added another to the already-loaded plate before bringing it to the table. She placed the warm treat on the table and joined the two men.

***

“I know you guys think I need a babysitter. I don’t agree, but I’m willing to compromise. To a point.” Theresa wrapped both hands around her mug of steaming coffee, her rings twinkling in the morning light. “You both have lives, careers helping people. You have to keep working. I’ll continue working, too. Nobody’s going to bother me during the day. People are always in and out of the shop. We can work something out for the evenings, but there’s no reason for your jobs to be disrupted.”

“Not a chance.” Max’s voice was firm but filled with compassion. “Since we haven’t got a clue who this person is, we can’t be sure he won’t waltz right into your shop during a regular workday.” He stood and paced around the confines of the kitchen.

Here we go again,
Theresa thought, nibbling her lip to suppress a smile. He reminded her of a large jungle cat, stalking his territory. She rolled her eyes at Remy, and he shrugged, smirking into his coffee mug.

Max stopped and stood with his arms akimbo, frowning at Remy. “What’s so funny?”

“You are, bro,” he quipped. “Can we keep the pacing to a minimum?”

Scowling, Max stalked back and sprawled in his abandoned chair. “Okay, fine. Help me make this hardheaded woman understand she can’t be alone, even at work.”

“I’m actually on your side, Max. I think she needs watching, too.” Remy chimed in. “Babe, I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself. I know you can. I’m the first to say you’re amazing. But this isn’t a normal situation here. Until we get a better handle on this person, they’re a threat.” He paused a second. “I need to keep an eye on both of you.”

***

Max snorted at that. Remy thought he needed a babysitter now? He was an ex-cop, a private investigator. He had training and he carried a weapon. Besides, they were here about Theresa, not him.

“We can work something out on hours, set up shifts. I need to get a couple hours sleep then I’m good to go.” Remy stopped talking long enough to stuff his mouth full of the still-warm
beignet, his gaze continually shifting between his brother and his best friend. “I heard something at the station at the end of my shift. Thought you might find it interesting. Parents came in late last night to report their son missing.” He paused then added, “Another seventeen-year-old.”

Max straightened, alert. “Another seventeen-year-old boy?”

“Yep. His folks apparently came in about two in the morning to report him missing. Since he hasn’t been missing for twenty-four hours yet, station’s doing the routine checking, but I thought you might be interested.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a scrap of paper. “Brought you the information, name and address. Figured you’d want to check it out. I doubt there’s any connection, but hey at this point we’re grasping at straws anyway.”

Max glanced at Theresa. She stared back. “Okay, fine,” he conceded. “Call Maggie and see if she can watch things again. We’ll go talk to—Mr. And Mrs. Freeman.”

***

Steven knew he’d made a big mistake. He’d panicked after what had happened with the kid. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. Rage consumed him, eating away at what remnants of sanity he had left. Blackness had filled his mind when the boy ran, screaming for help, yelling for the police. Steven snapped.

The police couldn’t come. Not yet. Not when everything was so close to being finished. That interfering boy had almost ruined everything.

He hadn’t meant to hurt him, just grab him and stop his screaming. Then lock him in with Tommy and Becca. It wouldn’t have been for long.

Damn, he didn’t even know the kid’s name. That was important, somehow.
You really should know the name of someone you’ve killed.

But he made a big mistake going to Lamoreaux’s office. Steven had wanted to see what he had on Tommy’s disappearance. Did any of the evidence gathered point to him?

Instead, he had another one of his blackout spells. They were getting more frequent, and he was losing longer and longer periods of time.

When he’d come to and comprehended where he was and what he’d done to the office, he was appalled.

He left the threatening note, even cut the words and letters out of magazines and newspapers he found lying around.

He chuckled. Bet the police were going to get a kick out of the fact the note had been generated right there in that very office. They wouldn’t know it had been a spur-of-the-moment idea. Let them think it had been preplanned. He’d left the used magazines behind with their gaping, cut-out holes.
Let’s see what they think about that,
he thought gleefully.

Now, Steven needed a plan to dispose of the boy’s body. Guilt assailed him, like vultures gnawing on a carcass, pecking at his conscience. With all he’d done recently, it surprised him that he still had a conscience. He’d become a monster. God had turned his back on him. The devil, though, would be welcoming him with open arms really soon.

***

Becca watched Tommy pace the length of the room, the chain draped across his arm. He carried it just about everywhere since she’d started moving around in her chair. It gave her better accessibility, and she wasn’t halted when her wheels ran into the links lying across the floor.

She knew she could wheel over the chain, if she tried hard enough to put extra strength behind her pushes, but his thoughtfulness about moving it out of her path made a big difference.

He’d changed in the last day, though. Ever since her uncle had hurt that boy. She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe he was dead. That would make Uncle Steven a murderer, something she couldn’t accept. He was a kind, gentle man, always jesting, with a good word for everybody. Though she had seen what happened, there had to be another explanation.

Tommy stopped pacing to stand in front of her, hands on his hips. The length of chain now lay on the floor, coiled like a snake ready to strike at unsuspecting prey.

“Have you come up with any way of getting us out of here?” Becca whispered her question softly, her head tilted back to look him in the eye.

***

Tommy squatted beside her. His pacing had done nothing except release some pent-up frustration. He was going stir crazy, needing to act yet not knowing what to do.

Steven was completely out of control, there was no denying the fact. He’d had bad moments from time to time since he’d taken Tommy, but nothing like yesterday. Killing Jacob, bashing his skull into the ground until it was a bloody pulp, put all his prior actions beyond redemption.

Tommy knew there was no reasoning with his captor now. With that single act of violence, the maniacal gleam he’d seen in Steven’s eyes as he locked the door that final time, Tommy knew Steven had passed the point of no return. There would be no going home from this alive, unless he and Becca escaped. They had to come up with a plan, and fast.

“I’ve got nothing.” The despondency filling her voice tugged at his heart.

“Look, I don’t know when he’s coming back, could be any minute. We have to find a way out of here now.”

“It was a mistake. You saw. He didn’t mean to hurt that boy.”

“Mistake? Hell, no, it wasn’t a mistake. He didn’t just give him a little boo-boo and send him home. He
killed
him! Get it through your thick skull, right now. He may be your uncle, but he’s a killer, and we’re witnesses. We gotta get help, get to the police.”

Tommy’s harsh words made Becca flinch, and inside he winced, knowing he’d hurt her. But they needed to get out, somehow, before Steven came back.

“You’re right, okay! But he’s family. He’s all I’ve got. He’ll have to go to prison, won’t he?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she fought back sobs.

Outside noises could be heard, footsteps right beyond the door. Tommy stepped back from Becca at the click of the lock being opened. The door slowly yawned inward.

Steven strode confidently into the garage, acting as if nothing had happened. He glared at Tommy, walked forward and brushed a gentle kiss across Becca’s forehead. Tommy caught her involuntary flinch and downcast gaze, her refusal to acknowledge her uncle’s presence.

“I’ve got your tray outside, honey.” He pointed at Tommy. “Step back over there, against the wall.”

Once Tommy had done as ordered, Steven walked back outside, reappearing with a trolley laden with breakfast foods. Tommy’s stomach growled at the tantalizing smells. Bacon,
scrambled eggs, hash browns, pancakes, toast and fresh fruit in mountainous portions filled the tray. One of those plastic containers of orange juice and a bottle of maple syrup completed the picture. The amount of food was more than enough for two people, they could munch on this all day long.

“I’m not eating that.” Tommy’s voice filled the room, firm and cold.

Steven looked at him in surprise. Becca stared at him too, and he saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes.

“Me either,” she stated.

“What’s wrong with the food?” Steven asked, surprised.

“How do we know you didn’t poison it or drug it?” Tommy’s voice was laced with a mix of suspicion and scorn.

“You’re kidding, right? I’ve fed you for days now. Haven’t poisoned you or drugged you.”

“That was before you killed somebody right in front of me though, wasn’t it?”

Steven’s expression hardened. Grabbing up one of the plastic utensils, he shoveled a forkful of the eggs into his mouth, followed by a slice of the bacon. Ripping off a piece of pancake, he drizzled some syrup on it, his eyes constantly on Tommy as he shoved that, too, into his mouth. After swallowing, he poured juice into one of the plastic cups, downing it in one quick gulp. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he asked, “There, are you satisfied?”