Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (37 page)

David set the paper on the Realtor's desk and took out his cell phone. Whether Laurel liked it or not, he needed to communicate this new evidence to Detective Berg. All of it. And let the investigation take its course. At minimum, Laurel and Caroline should find themselves in the clear. He hardly dared hope he might be exonerated also.

Thankfully, he caught the detective at his desk. Quickly and concisely, David presented his discoveries. Berg remained silent until David had finished, then asked a few clarifying questions.

At last, a long sigh carried over the connection. “I'd like to arrest you for withholding information in a murder investigation, but I'm not sure the charge would stick. You pursued a long shot, and it paid off. Be content and back off. Let us do our job.”

“I understand, sir. Laurel and I are particularly concerned about the whereabouts of her friend Janice and her daughter, Caroline. Laurel got a phone call a few minutes ago. It could have been her friend, but she hasn't come back with that information.”

“Go see. I'll stay on the line.”

David walked to the family room, but found it empty. Eerie silence draped the house. Calling Laurel's name, he hurried to the front room. A window offered a view of Laurel's house next door, and a car with her at the wheel was careening backward out of the driveway.

“Something about that phone call just sent Laurel to her car without saying a word to me,” he told Berg. “I'm going to follow.”

“What did I tell you about letting us do our job?”

“You aren't here. I am. I'll keep you informed until someone from the P.D. can pick up the trail.”

“You do that.”

The detective's bark barely registered as David keyed off his phone, flung on his jacket and sprinted to his rental car.
Please, God, don't let me lose her.
He burned rubber in a U-turn, but Laurel's vehicle had disappeared from view. David gunned the V-8 engine, and the vehicle leaped forward. Good thing he'd indulged his penchant for powerful cars at the airport rental agency.

Up several blocks, he spotted her vehicle fading in the distance on a side road. Apparently, she was headed toward the nearest interstate on-ramp. His vehicle ate up the distance between him and her economy rental. If she spotted him, would she try to lose him? He couldn't worry about that. Just stay on her tail.

He drew up several car lengths behind her. Her brake lights winked at him in a pair of short bursts—a deliberate move—and he smiled. She wasn't trying to lose him. He could only conclude she needed help. Why hadn't she told him before she left?

He keyed in her phone number, but the call went straight to voice mail. Either she'd been ordered to turn off her phone, or the connection was still live with someone who didn't want her communicating with anyone else. This creep was beyond clever. The strongest button anyone could push with Laurel was something to do with Caroline.

Redness edged David's vision. That kid was a hot button with him, too. If he got to this guy before the cops—no, he couldn't let fury cloud his mind. He clamped down on his emotions.

Danger to Janice would be a close second with Laurel— unless, of course, Janice was the culprit all along.

They hit the interstate ramp at a ridiculous rate of speed. David called Detective Berg and gave him their location. “Can you trace Laurel by her cell GPS?”

“Only if she's using the phone.”

“Give it a shot.” He rattled off the number that had stuck in his head as firmly as the beautiful woman with whom it was associated.

“We're on it. Stay on the line with me from now on. I'm in my vehicle en route to intercept.”

Berg's voice grew distant as he issued instructions to someone in the car with him. Probably his partner. A radio bleeped, and the partner's voice barked indistinct orders into it.

“We're exiting toward Cherry Creek Shopping Center,” he told the detective.

“If she's meeting someone, hang back. Don't let yourself be seen.”

“Only if Laurel's not in imminent danger.”

A curse answered that stipulation. “We're less than two minutes behind you.”

David firmed his jaw. A lot could happen in that amount of time.

Laurel's car turned in to a mall entrance. David signaled to turn in after her, but another vehicle surged in front of him, exiting the lot. He slammed on the brakes, and the teenage boy behind the wheel of the other car made a rude gesture as he sped away. David whisked into the lot, gaze roaming for Laurel's car and coming up blank. Just that fast, he'd lost her.

Pulse pounding, he relayed to the detective what had happened and received reassurances of their imminent arrival.

“Sit tight,” Berg added. “Her phone is live, and we've got her on GPS.”

Eternal seconds later, the unmarked police vehicle glided past David's car. He followed at a discrete distance around the perimeter of the parking lot to the other side of the mall. His heart leaped. There was Laurel's vehicle sitting alone at the farthest edge of the lot near a busy street. The driver's door hung wide open.

David slammed on the brakes and made a rocking park, then leaped out and raced toward Laurel's car on the tails of the pair of detectives. They'd have to arrest him to stop him from looking. Over their shoulders, he peered into Laurel's vehicle. The car was empty except for her cell phone lying on the passenger seat.

He stared wildly around, but any of dozens of vehicles in motion on the street or in the parking lot could contain a kidnap victim. His shoulders slumped. When she needed him the most, he'd failed the woman who had come to mean more to him than his next heartbeat.

Why did he realize how precious she was to him when he might never get the chance to tell her?

FIFTEEN

W
here...am...I?

The question floated through Laurel's brain. Ephemeral. Wispy. As if her mind were detached from the earth.

A steady hum filled her ears, and a gentle vibration shook her body where she lay curled on her side. If only she could open her eyes. Ah, yes. They
were
open. Darkness filled them. Her nose was filled with something else—an oily, metallic scent. She willed her arms to move, to stretch out and explore her surroundings, but they refused to respond.

She'd been kidnapped!

Awareness shot adrenaline to her extremities, and she stiffened.

David! He'd been following her. What a good man. She no longer possessed a single doubt of his innocence. The monster who had taken her had also killed Alicia. If only David were here to hold her. She would snuggle close. Safe. But she didn't know what had become of him. Was he all right?

She'd parked her car as directed next to a black sedan. A thickset man wearing dark clothing and a ski mask got out, soft-footed to her door, opened it and reached in. She didn't even have time to scream before a prick at the back of her neck put the lights out.

The lights were still out, but she was no longer unconscious. Was she in the car's trunk? A moan escaped her lips, and she managed to spread the fingers of one of her hands against what felt like nubby fabric. Trunk carpet.

If so, there ought to be a fluorescent latch somewhere in here that would release the trunk cover. Nothing fluorescent gleamed in her environment. Her captor could have removed it and disabled the latch. That move made sense if he planned to use his trunk as a prison.

Thankfully, she wasn't bound or gagged. Laurel swallowed against a desert-dry throat. If she regained enough command of her body, she might be able to do what she'd read about in one of those women's magazines. She could punch out one of the taillights, reach through and wave for help at oncoming traffic.

Yes, that's what she'd do. Groans echoing in the small space, she rolled onto her back.

A soft hiss sounded, then a strange sweetish odor clogged her nostrils...and then nothing.

* * *

Nearly two hours later, David sat slumped in his car in the mall parking lot. He'd undergone extensive grilling as he gave his statement to the detectives. Berg had been particularly interested in every detail about the Jeweled Talon Society. While they talked, evidence technicians showed up and processed the scene before towing away Laurel's rental car for microscopic examination—the second vehicle she'd lost to that fate in recent history.

Now the detective sat in his unmarked sedan a few feet away, talking on the phone. David started his car. Maybe that would get the hint across that he'd like clearance to leave. Besides, the afternoon sun that beat on the roof of his dark blue rental only managed to warm the interior marginally against a bitter chill that had moved into the Denver area overnight.

Berg got out of his sedan and sauntered over. David rolled down the window, and the detective leaned inside. A noticeable thaw was visible in the gaze that lit on David.

“Still no sign of Janice Swenson or Caroline Adams,” Berg said. “The crew that scoured Mrs. Swenson's house for clues to her whereabouts turned up a notation in her office that placed her at a vacant house for a showing this morning. A black-and-white dropped by and found evidence of a scuffle.”

“Evidence? You mean like blood?” David's marrow chilled.

“Some. Not enough to be sure anything life threatening occurred.”

“But you can't rule it out.”

“Unfortunately not. The crew at Mrs. Swenson's turned up something else of interest.”

David narrowed his eyes. “What might that be?”

“Potassium cyanide. The kind used by entomologists in killing jars.”

“Janice's late husband collected and displayed butterflies. What's so... You mean Melissa Eldon died of cyanide poisoning?”

Berg backed away and rose to his full height, wearing a Cheshire cat grin. “You hole up somewhere now and let us do our job. Here's my card in case you think of anything else we should know.”

David took the rectangle of card stock, and watched the detective join his partner in their car. Gnawing the inside of his cheek, David stared after the departing vehicle.

So suspicion had traveled from Laurel and Caroline to Janice. Or maybe now the cops were thinking the three of them were in cahoots on the death of Melissa Eldon. Then how did they explain Laurel's apparent kidnapping, as well as the disappearance of Caroline and Janice amidst “signs of a scuffle?” Maybe they figured this whole scenario was a scheme to divert suspicion. Someone's labyrinthine mind needed rerouting. But how could he help that happen?

Think, man, think!

His gaze fell to the sheet of paper he'd clutched in his fist as he ran out to the car. It gleamed at him from the passenger seat in black and white. Maybe all roads converged upon the address written on the Realtor's representation agreement.

Gil Montel's sister was murdered by her groom, Lawrence Taylor, while on their honeymoon. Lawrence, a wealthy man with many resources at his disposal, had escaped and disappeared. It wasn't a large leap of the imagination to think that this man might kill other women. How he'd crossed paths with the Jeweled Talon Society remained a mystery...unless Paula was a Talon.

Heart thumping, David conjured up a mental image of the shrine Gil had constructed to his sister. Paula had been a stunning, amber-eyed brunette, the same as one of the Talons they hadn't accounted for. But that wasn't the only detail his brain was struggling to recall. Hadn't there been some sort of clue to an organization with which she'd been connected? Yes! A pendant bearing the initials UTSA—University of Texas at San Antonio. Of course!

Breath hissed between David's teeth. Was Paula dead because through her callous pact she'd triggered the rage of an arrogant man who discovered he'd been suckered by the oldest game in the book? Maybe Gil had answers he didn't know he knew. David just had to ask the right questions.

He started the car and peeled out of the parking lot. A couple of miles down the road, his cell phone began to play. The ID said Unknown Caller. Heat spiked down David's spine as he tapped to answer.

“Hello, you pathetic excuse for a human being. Where are the women? Where's Caroline?”

The person at the other end tsked. “If you wish to keep this dialogue open, try a little respect,” a harsh voice rasped. “Name-calling where you know nothing is inappropriate.”

“I know one thing.” David schooled his tone to an intense whisper.

“Good for you. What is that?”

“It's going to take more than a voice-altering device to hide your identity.”

“You know who I am then?”

“You've killed before.”

“Brilliant deduction! I'm starting to enjoy this conversation. When? Before who?”

“Before Melissa. Before Alicia. Four years ago.” The slightest sound of indrawn breath betrayed surprise from the mocker at the other end of the connection. Dark satisfaction expanded in David's chest. “And you got away with it. Until now. Because you couldn't stop!”

“
You're
going to stop me?”

“Me. The police. Someone. Soon.”

“Before or after fair Caroline either asphyxiates or freezes to death?”

Words stalled on David's lips.

“Now that I have your attention, let the game begin.”

“Game?” The question spat between David's teeth.

“A simple round of geocaching. Your coordinates are being texted to you.” Accordingly, David's cell phone pinged. “It will be unnecessary for us to speak again.” A laugh began but was abruptly cut off into blank air.

Thumb quivering, David brought up the text message.

Caroline in danger? Freezing? Gasping for air?

Blanking his mind of how that awesome kid could be suffering, he entered the coordinates into his GPS app. The impersonal female voice instructed him to reverse his course. Following her directives, he drove at the maximum speed he dared without getting stopped by a traffic cop. Minutes counted. Maybe even seconds.

In the mall parking lot, Detective Berg had given David his direct line number. David punched it in and waited. The call went to voice mail. Suppressing a foul word, he left a terse request for Berg to call him back as soon as possible because he might have a lead on Caroline's whereabouts.

On the other hand, David was realistic enough about the twisted nature of this murderer to realize the whole geocaching exercise could be nothing more than a sadistic trick. But he couldn't risk refusing to play along. Not if there was a chance that Caroline needed him.

And what of Laurel? Without any direct clues to her whereabouts, he had no choice but to entrust her to the resources of the police.

As the navigation voice commanded him to turn onto Federal Boulevard, a familiar structure came into view. Sports Authority Field. He'd attended a Broncos-Cowboys football game here a couple of years back. The stadium loomed mammoth and silent.

He turned obediently onto Twentieth Avenue and then into VIP parking lot G. At the far end of the lot sat a black sedan. The coordinates led him straight to it. David parked a little way back, and got out, leaving his car idling.

He approached the other vehicle on cautious feet, gaze darting in every direction. A bomb planted in the abandoned vehicle wasn't out of the question, but what choice did he have other than to investigate? Every hair on his body stood at high alert. Biting wind swooped and howled around him. He could almost hear an echo of the killer's cruel laughter.

No, that wasn't laughter. It was weeping. Hoarse sobs. Gasping breath. David's footsteps quickened. The heartrending sounds were coming from the trunk of the car.

“I'm here!” he cried. “David's here.”

A weak wail answered him before it cut off into a choke.

David rushed to the driver's-side door, but the vehicle was locked. “Sick monster!” He raced back to his car, opened the trunk and retrieved the tire iron.

This might be a football stadium, but today the only score that mattered relied upon a baseball swing. Standing by the driver's side window, he drew back with the tire iron, then let fly. Glass shattered everywhere, stinging like little bees attacking his face. David ignored the pain as he plunged his hand inside and held the button to release the trunk latch. A satisfying pop sounded.

He ran to the rear of the vehicle and flung open the trunk. Caroline lay inside, not bound and gagged but barely moving. Tiny whimpers dribbled between swollen, blue lips. Her whole face and neck were puffed to twice their normal size. She wore no jacket, only her sweater and jeans, but the cold wouldn't have caused the swelling. Nor would lack of oxygen.

Allergic reaction? Poison?

David scooped the girl up, clutched her close to his chest and ran for his vehicle. He scooted into the backseat where there was warmth, but also room to strip off his jacket and wrap it around her. She was semiconscious, each inhalation a truncated hiccup.

He swiped his phone from his belt and punched in 9-1-1. His terse description of the situation and their location brought a promise that help was on the way.

David dropped his phone and gathered Caroline in his arms, soul clamoring with silent prayers. Cradling and rocking her, he crooned reassurances even as his heart threatened to shatter into a billion pieces.

Sure, help was on the way...but would it arrive in time?

* * *

Intense shivering rattled Laurel to awareness. Chill invaded her body from every angle, especially beneath her where she lay prone on a frozen surface. Pebble-size lumps bit into her back. What was that clacking sound? Oh, it was her teeth chattering. Not only
her
teeth, someone else's. She wasn't alone in this pitch blackness smelling of dirt and must.

Where was she? Where were
they?
Who was the other person?

“W-who's there?” Her voice quavered forth.

A groan answered her.

Laurel stretched her arms out to her sides, disturbing small stones and what felt like loose soil. She raised her arms, and her hands and wrists knocked against what sounded and felt like wood. The ceiling of this enclosed space was only a couple of feet above her. Good thing she hadn't tried to sit up. She would have hit her head.

Whatever drug she'd been given had worn off. She was stiff with cold but she could move.

“Laurel?”

The nearby whisper contained barely enough strength to reach Laurel's ears. She knew that voice.

“Janice?”

A sniffle answered. “I'm so cold!” The voice had strengthened, but only a little.

“Are you injured?”

“Yes. Where's Caroline?”

“Isn't she here...wherever here is?”

“I...don't think s—” Another groan cut off the sentence.

A surge of adrenaline shot tingles to Laurel's rapidly numbing extremities. They had to get out of this frigid prison and find Caroline.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Ribs. Face. Stomach. I fought...protect Caroline...but self-defense training doesn't help much...when your attacker uses a drug.”

“Who was he?”

“Don't know. He wore a knitted ski mask. Ambushed us at the house where we'd gone for the showing.”

“Sounds like the same man who got me. Can you move?”

“Not sure. Doesn't matter. If you can find a way, get out of here. Leave me. Rescue Caroline.”

Laurel rolled onto her side, and pain sparkled up and down her back and bottom as blood flowed faster beneath iced skin.

An extended hand discovered smooth cashmere and beneath it an arm. “Janice?”

“Yes.”

“You're not wearing your coat.”

“Tell me about it.” An attempt at a laugh ended in a moan.