Justifiable Risk (31 page)

Greer hoped the only reason he’d summoned a tech was because Eva was missing, but as she got closer her hopes faded. The driver’s window of the vehicle was shattered and Eva’s cell phone lay open on the seat. She placed her hands behind her back and stuck her head inside the car. Red stains had dried on several shards of glass scattered across the seat, and the sickly sweet smell of blood made her nauseous. She visually followed a trail of the dark red droplets across the asphalt back toward the diner.

With a sharp intake of breath, Greer realized that Eva had been injured and her heart galloped. She stepped back from the vehicle and drew on all her strength to steady herself. Someone had obviously taken Eva against her will. How badly injured was she, where was she, and who had her? The helplessness of that day two years ago resurfaced, and Greer railed against the improbability and injustice of being unable to prevent the loss of another woman she loved.

“Did anybody see anything?”

“No, ma’am,” the officer answered.

“Any sign of a struggle anywhere else in the area?”

“No, ma’am.”

“People around here get up pretty early. Have you canvassed the area for possible witnesses?” Greer asked, though she already knew the answer. Her questions were standard procedure and this young officer seemed very capable.

“Yes, ma’am. No witnesses.”

As the officer and the crime-scene analyst processed Bessie’s car, Greer thought about what she’d give to see Eva again, alive and healthy. If she had to choose between letting Eva go completely and having her returned unharmed, Greer had no doubt she’d choose the former. Having lost one partner, she knew it was possible to love
and
let go. She had done so with Clare after thinking herself incapable for two years. Greer made a silent deal with whatever forces controlled such things, if only she found find Eva unharmed. She could live without love but not without knowing Eva was happy and somewhere safe.

*

Baron Wallace drove very carefully through the center of town, past the warehouse district, and into a moderate residential area. “Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up. If you attract any attention, I’ll kill you right here. I knew if I waited long enough I’d catch you out by yourself.”

“Why are you doing this, Baron?” Eva kept her tone even and matter-of-fact, careful not to betray her terror, which heightened by the minute. He had been watching her and Greer, waiting for an opportunity to attack her again. How could she keep herself safe? Instead of being negative and hopeless, she needed to keep her wits and find a way out of the situation.

“Because you wouldn’t leave well enough alone. We dodged the bullet after your brother came snooping around. Then you showed up. I told you to leave, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“
You
killed my brother?”

Baron shrugged as if he’d made a minor error in judgment. “He got in the way.”

She was enraged yet relieved when she realized this man was responsible for her brother’s death. She nearly choked as she tried to swallow the anguish that crawled up her throat. She had never been violent, but at this moment she balled her hands into fists so tight her forearms ached. She wanted to hit him, claw his dark eyes, and rip him apart slowly. He had extinguished the bright light that Paul brought to her world, and he needed to pay. She looked around the inside of the vehicle for anything to use as a weapon.

“You’d probably like to kill me right now, wouldn’t you?” Baron asked.

“You have no idea.” She and Greer had speculated that Baron Wallace was the murderer, but she hadn’t allowed herself to accept it without proof. An admission was even better. Eva breathed deeply and forced the rage to settle into a tentative calm.

“Who is
we
?” She desperately wanted to know who else had been involved in Paul’s death. Wallace was certainly ruthless enough to commit murder, but he didn’t seem like boss material, beyond the brute strength required to maintain order among a band of drug dealers. Whoever was behind this plan was also responsible for Tom’s murder, Sergeant Fluharty’s shooting, and the attempts on her life.

“You haven’t figured that out yet? Not as smart as I thought, then.”

“So enlighten me.”

“Shut up. I need to think.” Baron Wallace peeled the baseball cap off and scrubbed his knuckles across his shaved head. His pale white forehead crinkled and deep frown lines formed on his stubbled face. Careful thought and planning didn’t seem to be his strong points. “Need to think,” he repeated.

Baron drove around the outskirts and dark places of New Hope until the night sky began to lighten. Eva thought it odd that he didn’t immediately take her to some hiding spot and get off the streets. Surely by now the police had located Bessie’s vehicle and were looking for her. She swiped at the dried blood that still clung to her face and arms.

As the gray light of dawn filled the vehicle, Eva got a good look at Baron. His black eyes seemed to pop against the pallor of his skin. He was thin, though muscled. His faded black T-shirt had small holes, as did his jeans, and smelled like he’d worn them several days. They rode in silence until Baron pulled in front of a small wood-framed house and cut the engine.

“I’m taking you inside and you better be quiet.”

He shoved the weapon in her back as she exited the car and nudged her toward the front of the building. After retrieving a key from above the door frame, he unlocked the door and motioned her inside. Whose house was this and why had they come here? Did the resident know this deranged man? Were they friends or relatives? Maybe Baron’s accomplice lived here and she’d finally come face-to-face with the other conspirator.

Though it was a small and sparsely furnished house, it was tidy, as if someone took pride in its upkeep. Baron shoved her past a tiny kitchen that smelled of fried bacon, a bathroom that reeked of liniment, then into a musty corner bedroom. She hadn’t seen or heard anyone else, but noted another room with the door closed directly across from the one they entered.

“Sit.” Baron pushed her toward a straight-backed chair in the center of the room, with a length of rope on the floor next to it. She was at this man’s mercy. Maybe he was the mastermind after all. He had obviously planned to bring her to this place, but she had no idea for how long or for what purpose. She mentally scanned her limited options.

A brief reporters’ training session on establishing a connection with your captor if taken hostage offered several suggestions: remain calm, establish rapport, don’t talk down to him, avoid appearing hostile, avoid arguments, and maintain eye contact but don’t stare. Not much help. The next steps required more restraint, not her forte: be amenable, treat the captor like royalty, comply with instructions, and expect the unexpected.

What could be more unexpected than being abducted from your vehicle in a business parking lot before daybreak in a small town in the United States? The irony was nearly humorous. Why hadn’t she been afraid during some of the assignments she’d undertaken in failed states throughout the world, all the times her life was in danger? Maintaining an emotional distance, she had been able to stay objective and to calmly negotiate and troubleshoot with equanimity. But this situation was different. This was personal and Baron’s intent filled her with terror.

“Why don’t you let me go? This will only get worse for you.” So much for the training session. Now was the time for reason and negotiation.

“Can’t. I need you for leverage.”

Baron secured her ankles to the chair legs and tied her arms to the spindles on the seat back. She had no wiggle room. “These are too tight. They’ll cut off my circulation.”

“You’re lucky if that’s all I cut off. Now be quiet. If I hear a sound out of you, it’ll be your last.” He stuffed a piece of stale fabric in her mouth, tied a gag over that, and left the room.

She strained against the bindings, her wrists and ankles stinging as the coarse ties sawed into raw flesh. She flinched but kept trying to loosen the lengths of rope. The musty rag in her mouth muffled her cries for help, and she gagged on its sour odor and taste. She scanned her surroundings for anything that might help her escape but found nothing.

Except for a single bed and a ramshackle dresser, she saw no other signs of habitation—no clothing or pictures or personal items. The light beige carpet was stained and worn from years of use, and the dark brown curtains blocked the sunlight. Eva felt isolated and her apprehension deepened.

Baron Wallace hadn’t bothered to blindfold her—not a good sign. She already knew his identity, and he’d expressed no problem with killing her. But he’d also mentioned leverage. Wallace seemed ambivalent, uncertain about his situation and uncomfortable with the decisions he was making. Their drive around town after her abduction and his concern about waking the occupants of the house didn’t indicate a well-thought-out plan. What exactly did he have in mind? Perhaps he had information to exchange for her release.

How did the New Hope Police Department negotiate for the release of hostages? It irritated her to think of herself as a hostage, a victim. She struggled against her restraints with one final surge of anger, then collapsed, exhausted. Her eyes filled with tears and she closed them tight. She refused to show weakness or defeat. As she evaluated her situation again, she thought about Greer.

Eva had left the warmth and comfort of Greer’s bed after they made love to answer her phone. What would’ve happened if she’d stayed in bed a little longer? If she hadn’t taken the call, Greer wouldn’t have overheard the conversation, they wouldn’t have disagreed, and Eva wouldn’t have gone for the drive that put her in Baron Wallace’s path.

Now she was the center of Wallace’s plan, which put him in direct conflict with Greer. She imagined that Greer was feeling helpless and experiencing a bit of déjà vu after what happened to Clare. Greer would find her, and when she did, she would seek revenge. Eva hated having caused Greer so much emotional torment. She wanted to return, apologize for the trouble she’d caused since her arrival in New Hope, and move forward with whatever they might be able to build together.

When Eva was younger her life of constant travel had excited her and provided the sense of purpose and direction she needed. It also protected her from intimacy. But that distance also had kept her isolated from the very thing that made life worth living—deep, meaningful love for another person.

But her job didn’t define her. The circumstances of her life from the beginning, her values and beliefs did. Her family had been close despite her father’s frequent absences. She and her siblings had enjoyed social and educational opportunities that shaped their paths and provided direction. But most important, their parents had loved and nurtured them. Exciting stories of challenge and survival of spirit filled her father’s visits home.

Why had she identified with and held on to the painful aspects of love and not with its abundance or potential? She’d focused on her father’s departures but not on his returns. Even those times, bittersweet with parting, had infused her with the possibilities of life. That had been her father’s legacy, not the lesson of caution and moderation. Greer was right—their family had grounded her father, been his anchor. They were what brought him back time after time.

She could modify her career to suit her life and curtail her foreign assignments to a more manageable schedule. She’d earned that privilege. And for the first time in her life, she wanted to stay in one place, in
this
place. She would gladly forgo the assignment in Kyrgyzstan for the opportunity to see where her relationship with Greer led.

Maybe now was the time for a change. But as Eva looked around the stark room where she was imprisoned, she didn’t see much hope or optimism.

Greer paced the compact basement radio room, looking over the dispatcher’s shoulder every time a call came in. She smelled the anxiety and tension in the air. The chief had appeared on television and radio stations appealing for information about Eva’s kidnapping.

It was five in the afternoon—twelve hours since Eva was taken—and they hadn’t received any reliable leads. Greer and the rest of the force had been looking for her with no luck. Whoever had taken her hadn’t called with a ransom demand. Time wasn’t necessarily an ally in kidnapping cases. Greer’s nerves were on edge but she had no idea what to do next. Her helplessness had nearly debilitated her.

“New Hope nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

Greer edged forward as if she could hear the caller.

“Yes, ma’am. She’s right here. Hold on.” The dispatcher handed the headset to Greer. “It’s a Brenda Wallace, says she has information for you.”

Greer held the headset to her ear and adjusted the mouthpiece. “Yes, Mrs. Wallace, this is Greer Ellis.”

“I can help you.” The woman’s voice was barely a whisper and Greer had to strain to understand her.

“Can you speak up, Mrs. Wallace?”

“Can’t, he might hear me. Listen. He brought that woman I saw on TV into my house. God knows what he’s doing to her.”

Greer’s heart raced as she pictured Eva captive in Brenda Wallace’s home with that psychopath Baron. “Have you seen her?”

“I peeped through the keyhole into his bedroom while he was in the shower. I told him not to come back here, ever. I want no part of this.”