Fade to Red (30 page)

Claire walked past them. “I’ll be right back. I’ll find her and see how long she’s been gone. Why don’t you stay put until I can call down there? She might already be on her way back up.”

He dragged a hand over his face and reluctantly agreed. His phone dinged.

Sierra: Is now a good time to visit Roxie?

He texted back:
I’ll text you when she’s back in the room

Sierra: Need food?

Coffee

Sierra: Done.

He paced the room, eventually ending up in the hall. Roxie’s parents looked surprised and then concerned when they saw him. Claire returned before he could explain anything to them. She stopped in front of Beckham and avoided looking any of them in the eye. A long, spiky icicle of fear lodged in his throat.

Claire took a shaky breath and began talking at super speed.

“I’ve talked to radiology and she hasn’t been down there. I’m the only nurse who has been in her room this shift. Hospital security is looking for her … putting guards at every exit. Someone will also be coming any minute to talk to you…” She ran out of breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” she said, her voice slowing down and becoming softer with each word. “Oh, there he is now.” She let out a relieved sigh and motioned to the guard. He introduced himself, and Daniel and Rachel began talking at once.

Beckham looked over at Hernandez. “Wherever the hospital keeps the surveillance footage—that’s where I need to be right now. I don’t want to wait for any hospital protocol bullshit. Pull whatever strings you can. She was taken on
your
watch.”

Hernandez gulped and stood up taller. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Woods. I’ll do whatever I can to get her back to you.”

Beckham’s jaw ticked and it took everything in him to not take the guy’s head off. He gave an infinitesimal nod to Hernandez, but it was enough to get the cop moving.

Every minute Roxie was gone meant she was one step further away from him.

Hernandez spoke into his walkie-talkie and motioned for Beckham to walk with him as he listened. They got in the service elevator, went down several floors, and as soon as they got out, Beckham called Howie. He picked up on the first ring.

“I need you back at the hospital. Someone took Roxie. Can’t wait for a meeting with Dion—if he’s helping us, we need him now.”

“Already with him and we’re not far. Be right there, boss.”

A security guard met them in front of the door leading to the room with surveillance monitors, and indicated with a shake of his head that Beckham couldn’t enter. Hernandez gave him a guilty look as he went inside.

Beckham put his fist to his mouth and stared at the guard. “I need to get in there and see what’s on the cameras. Now.
Please
.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you in there, Mr. Woods,” the guard said.

“I need a moment with Mr. Woods and then you’ll let him inside, Charles.” A booming voice resonated through the hospital corridor. Dion walked just ahead of Howie, looking ready to pounce.

Charles ducked his head. “Yes, sir. Take your time.” He unlocked the door, and Howie went ahead, leaving Beckham in the hall with Dion.

“I trained that kid to do security—he ain’t giving me that mess, don’t you worry,” Dion said with a grim smile. He shook Beckham’s hand and pounded his back. “I’m sorry to be seeing you under these circumstances, son.”

“Me too. Just relieved you’re here,” Beckham said.

“We’ll get to the bottom of all of this. I promise you that. I wish I had better news for you about Ian,” Dion said.

Beckham’s hand dropped from Dion’s.

“A possible lead came in about a car sinking—some surfers reported seeing one that fits the description of Ian’s. Police are working on getting it pulled up as we speak. We’ll know if it’s his car soon. Not too far from your house…”

“Shit.” Beckham closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. The thought of Ian drowning out there was a nightmare. Why Ian and Roxie? Why not him? He felt a jolt of panic and stiffened. “My mom and Sierra. I need to make sure they’re okay.”

“Already have someone on them. You know I’ve always had a soft spot for your family. Think I’d let anything happen to your mama?”

Beckham sagged against Dion’s arm. “Thank you. I didn’t even think past Roxie. I can’t believe any of this is happening.”

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions yet. One thing at a time. Right now we need to find your girl.” Dion forced Beckham to look at him. “We’ll find Roxie
and
Ian. Okay?” He turned and knocked on the door before opening it.

“Right.” Beckham rubbed his face and followed Dion.

The room was not very large to begin with, but when the door shut behind them, it felt miniscule. Screens ran the length of the walls, showing different sections of the hospital. Hernandez was standing by a guy who faced the screens, and he motioned them to come closer.

“Ty is looking at all the traffic in and out of the exits for the past hour plus. So far, there’s been no one who looks like Roxie, but we’ll be watching it over and over,” Hernandez said.

Ty nodded at them and they all turned to the screens.

Dion spoke up. “Ty, while Howie is watching your footage, can you set it up for me and Beckham to watch from the beginning? They know her looks and mannerisms far better than any of us do.” He put his hand on Beckham’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll find her, son,” he said to Beckham. His eyes softened briefly when he looked at Beckham, but hardened as soon as he turned to the rest of the men in the room. “Let’s get to it.”

They sat in front of the screens and watched every frame closely. After fifteen minutes, Beckham shifted in his seat, frustrated that nothing suspicious was showing up. The thought of her out there, at risk in every way, made him
crazy
.

“Beck, come take a look at this,” Howie said. He was watching with Ty, about a half hour ahead of the footage Beckham watched.

Beckham looked over Howie’s shoulder at the screen. For a millisecond, he saw Roxie roll by in a wheelchair. Her head tilted back briefly and her eyes were closed.

“That’s her!” he yelled. His heart raced out of control as he watched her being pushed out of the hospital door.

Ty rewound and they watched the whole sequence again and again. The person pushing the wheelchair had slicked back hair and was wearing blue scrubs and a face mask that covered nearly everything.

“It’s a woman,” Dion said. “I’ll be damned.”

Ty slowed everything down and focused on the woman. It was hard to make out any features with the distance and most of her face covered. They watched it a dozen times before Beckham let out a startled groan.

“Can you focus on her feet?” he asked.

It took Ty seconds to fill the screen with the assailant’s shoes. They matched the scrubs so well that at first it was unnoticeable. Nothing close to nurses’ shoes, these were shoes that he recognized. Blue boots.

Before she left the hospital, she took her second dose of meds for the day and felt the calm wash over her. She’d gone too long without them yesterday and by the time she realized it, she’d almost been completely hypnotized by Ian Sterling’s charm.

No more.

She couldn’t think about his ever-changing eyes and pretty boy looks. His sweetness to her. He’d been interested in what she had to say. It didn’t matter. He knew too much and distracted her.

Half of her life had been spent working toward
this
—she was closer to Beckham than she’d ever been. She could finally feel him within her grasp. She couldn’t forget her priorities. Not when she’d just stolen the patient right out from under their noses.

She breathed in: Invincible.

Breathed out: Determined.

Roxie was a fighter. It just made this all the more enjoyable. Neither Ian nor Roxie should still be alive, but instead of feeling daunted, the thought excited her. She was up for a little challenge and wanted to prolong the play a little longer. What good did it do to put out the bait and then not enjoy the hunt?

It was all worth it. She put her camera strap around her neck.

Time for some live action.

Roxie came to for a moment—long enough to hear the end of an advertisement and then music. The radio. Justin Bieber. She groaned. Her eyelids were too heavy to open. She wanted to lift a hand to her eyes and pry them open, but her hands weighed a thousand pounds. Her last thought before going out again was that she must be in a car and her head felt like a log.

The next time she woke up, she was able to open her eyes. It was dark, but she could see that she was in a small garage. Arms were wrapped around her ribs, and she was being dragged backwards across the concrete, away from a car. Her lungs and chest ached, feeling as if they were caving in. Fear swallowed her whole, sudden and complete.

What’s happening?
Her mind screamed, but no sound came out.
Where am I?

They came to a stop and Roxie heard keys jingling. And then more dragging inside the door. Once inside, she was dropped, her eyes squeezing shut as her head hit the floor. They jarred open again as she was yanked up by her hair across carpet that burned through her thin clothes. Her mind raced as she tried to wake up enough to figure out what was happening. She’d been in the hospital. She was still wearing a hospital gown. Whoever dragged her was silent. Roxie’s side slammed into the wall as they turned a corner.
Clump, clump, clump
, her body was dragged down a flight of stairs like a life-sized rag doll. Down the hall and into a room that was bare of furniture, they finally stopped.

Her eyes were still watering, but she narrowed them into tiny slits to make her vision clearer. The walls had pictures covering every inch of space as far as she could see. Pictures of Beckham and Leo took over a whole wall. She gasped and turned as much as she could—her hair was still tight in someone’s grip. The wall to the right had about a dozen pictures of her with large red X’s crossed over them. Another dozen were pictures that she knew had been her with Beckham, but now she was cut out of them.

She had to get out of there.

Leo. Leo. Leo.

His name ran through her mind on repeat.

She lifted her heavy arms and swung behind her, hitting a leg. That earned her a swift kick in the gut. Her stomach clenched and she began swallowing too fast. She tried to turn her head as much as she could and threw up on the floor. She heard a high yelp and her head was released, but before she could look up she was bashed with a heavy boot that wouldn’t stop.

She was too weak to crawl very far, and moving just made the blows come harder. She curled up into a ball and covered her face with her hands. The sharp tang of blood filled her nose as everything faded to red.

When she woke up, a thick cloth filled her mouth and was secured in a knot at the back of her head. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a rope around her neck held her in place. It looped onto the knobs of the bedroom door and what she assumed was either a bathroom or closet door. It was tight enough that if she stood up or leaned forward for very long, it would cut off her circulation. She didn’t want to move anyway; every inch of her felt bruised, but she shifted her head slowly back and forth to see if the ends budged at all. It only added to the chaffing on her neck. Her heart galloped through her chest and she felt her pulse nudge the rope around her wrists. She stilled and glanced down. Burned photographs were piled next to her on the floor. Some of them had portions of the picture showing through the torched marks. In a few of them, she recognized her clothes.

She told herself to stay calm, but it was too late. Fear clung to her, as much a part of her as the now drenched hospital gown she wore. She smelled like vomit, sweat, and terror.

Another pile of pictures lay next to the burned ones—everyone from the tour, even Chloe and the guards, and a few girls she didn’t recognize. She looked at the walls. The only wall that didn’t have pictures was the one to her left—a huge map covered that wall, but she wasn’t able to see the places marked by tacks. Directly across from her was one she hadn’t seen yet. From floor to ceiling, Beckham at every age looked back at her. She studied it for a long time, seeing some photographs she’d seen through the years in magazines, but a lot were snapshots … some of Beckham looking really young, and others that she knew were taken recently on the tour. And then the wall with Beckham and Leo …
Leo
.