SEIZED Part 2: Steamy Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) (3 page)

Blake

I close the door behind me and take a seat in front of Jacob’s desk. The chair is low, and her intended power play doesn’t have much effect on me, given my height. Even sitting down, we’re almost eye to eye. She looks me up and down like she’s trying to read me, like she knows I’ve been through something serious. I shake myself out of my own paranoia and keep her eye contact.
If she can read minds, let her tell me what the fuck just happened to me.

“Something wrong, Anderson?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

“Then stop eyeing me and tell me what you’ve got.”

I shift in my chair. I must be giving off some obvious vibes so I gather my composure. I start to run through the information I’ve tracked down on April and Carrie. I go over everything I’ve written in the notes I’ve made on Carrie’s statement. I tell her what I do and don’t know so far. She asks a few questions that I answer without hesitation. As expected, she picks up on the undeniable fact that Carrie concealed evidence.

“Detective what I’d like to know is how you managed to get her through two interviews, a medical, and then set her up in your spare room without noticing that she was carrying the victim’s handbag?”

She reads the resigned look on my face.

“Does Carrie James have something to hide?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, and neglect to mention that
I
do.

As I’m looking down at my notes, I realize that I don’t want Carrie to be labeled as a suspect.

I look Jacob in the eye and tell her what I’ve come up with.

“Her story checks out. She was in shock. The purse is a small flat one you wear under your clothes. She told the female officer there was no sexual abuse, so she wasn’t asked to disrobe. There are a bunch of good reasons why her story about forgetting it checks out. But…”

“What?” she asks, probably seeing the look on my face as I hesitate about my suspicions.

“I caught her phoning back some of the recent numbers that called into April Lee’s phone. And at first, she lied about it. Now, I’m not suggesting she’s up to no good or anything like that. But I think we need to keep in mind, she’s a news researcher just as much as she’s a lead witness.”

Jacob says nothing for a while. She then asks about the call log.

“I’ve got the phone in tech now. I already checked two of the missed call phone numbers. Both were unlisted, but they belong to Jessup Lee. One is for the office at Caliber and the other is his stationery warehouse in Brooklyn. It’s not that unusual for Jessup to be checking up on his niece. The thing I am interested to know is who sent photographs of April and Carrie dancing at Caliber. I’ve asked the labs to track down the owner of the email address it came from, and the GPS records of April’s last few days in New York. Carrie shared that there were also some emails from realtors offering to show April apartments in the city.”

Jacob sits up when she hears that. “So hold on. Is it possible the woman just ran off and is not actually missing?”

“To be honest, I have no evidence of the abduction. Video surveillance of the area came up blank. But I do believe Carrie’s story about the attack. And her injuries support her account of what happened.”

“Did Carrie know about these plans April had to look at places to live out here?”

I shake my head. “More cracks in the friendship appear as we go. April is pretty tight-lipped, it seems. She’s withheld things from both her grief counselor and from Carrie, who’s supposed to be her best friend. Since her parents’ death, it looks like she’s become intensely private. I’ve also had a look at her social media accounts and her support network. She’s not regularly in contact with anyone, except the other nurses she works with and Carrie. She says April’s changed so much over the last few months, she hardly knows her. I’ll look into April’s colleagues too, but I don’t expect to find much. There has to be a reason April wanted to come to New York—and why she kept it secret. So when we get the GPS and email, I’m going to focus there.

“Let’s go back to Carrie James,” says Jacob, and I feel the weight of her gaze. “What’s really going on there, Anderson?”

I decide it’s the perfect time to share that I know her from the past. I talk about our time in high school without including the details of the crush I’ve had for so long.

“In that case, I think you’re perfectly positioned to gain her trust,” the look on Jacob’s face is stern now. “Watch her, Blake. You need to keep an eye on everything she says and does. All reporters have a story brewing inside of them and that’d be a disaster for the Lee case if it happened.”

I want to ask her which case, April or Jessup’s, but I hold my tongue for now. I need to find out more before I start making remarks that could get me kicked off this investigation. If Jacob really does know who’s holding April as bait, then she’s not going to give it up that easily.

“Now Anderson, on another matter…”

My stomach tightens and I know what she’s going to bring up.

“You have a history with this woman, she’s staying at your house and she’s managed to conceal evidence—intentionally or unintentionally—I don’t care which it is right now. What I care about is that you missed it. I have to ask, is there anything I need to know about you and her?”

She’s flat out asking me if I’m sleeping with Carrie. There is no way I’m going down that barrel ride.

I shake my head. “There’s nothing more, Lieutenant.”

“What about you? Are you still going to your meetings? This isn’t normally something that would get past you Blake...”

Her look is serious. I can’t help feel ashamed, because she’s right. I haven’t been to an AA meeting for a while. Fuck, I hate having this disease. Any response I give her is going to seem suspicious, so I say, “Yes, you’re right, I’ve been meaning to catch up with my sponsor. Work just keeps getting in the way. I’m distracted, Lieutenant, but I’m not going to lose it. I swear.”

There’s not much else she can say. I’m not a child, but we both know what can happen when I go off the edge. The last time I was working a big case, I let the pressure get to me. I snapped while I was interviewing a suspect. My anger is also a problem. I know this.

“I want you to be honest with me Blake. Are you doing ok?”

This is the time I need to tell her to take me off night shift, and ask for help. It’s the main reason I miss meetings, and meetings are what keep me balanced. But I don’t. Instead, I just assure her I’m fine. I ignore the voice in my head. After what happened with Jessup this morning, work needs to be my priority. There’s no better time to get it done than when the station is nearly empty and the thugs are out for the night.

Now that she knows April missed calls from the Caliber office, I’m going to have to go back there. But there’s nothing in my notes about having seen Jessup today, and nothing ever will be.

“Thanks for your concern Lieutenant, but I’m fine. I really am.”

Walking out of her office, I disguise my limp. The pain is still there, but I push it away. More than anything right now, I need to work out. I have some gear in my locker. There’s nothing better than a run to loosen me up when I’m tense like this.

I change quickly and head to the gym. It hurts at first. I should be resting my body, but I need to burn off some steam before I go home to her. After all, the thing I’d really like to be doing right now is phoning Carrie. I picture her, and she’s sitting in my living room looking cute. Carrie James is like a siren—beautiful but dangerous. Until I know what the fuck is going on, I have to keep my hands to myself.

Carrie

I’ve tried Blake enough times now to seem like a total stalker. I figure he’s screening my calls. I’m mad as hell. I’m supposed to be a valuable witness, but he’s locked me away in his house without any contact with the outside world. He’s treating me like I’m a suspect.

It hurts—not just because I’m not guilty, but it makes me feel I’m a teenage girl again, seeking his attention and approval. Maybe I’m taking what happened this morning out of context. I’m blowing it out of proportion in my mind, but it’s worse that he’s not around to tell me I’m wrong.

I’m cognizant that I’m doing this to myself, but I can’t stop my thoughts from spiraling out of control. I’m angry at him, and just as upset with myself.
Shit!
That man has me in knots. Again!

Well actually Carrie—you’re doing this to yourself.
Those would be April’s words if she were here. April is always so sensible when it comes to giving advice. I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t get her back. I can’t imagine my life back in Iowa without her and until yesterday, I thought she felt the same way.

There are so many things I realize she didn’t tell me, and now I’m annoyed. For starters, who she was avoiding; and why she was looking for places in New York and didn’t tell me a damn thing? This is big. I can understand if she’s doing it because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but we both know I’m not that insecure. At least I hope she knows it.

Reality as I know it has been completely turned upside down. So much about what I used to think about myself—and about April—isn’t true. Like how on earth I decided to lie to the cops. I never thought I’d do that, but I did last night. I lied because I was scared, and because I was after a story.

I have to admit it. Admitting it is the first step. I wanted to check out my lead before Blake got to it. I told him I hid it because I didn’t want to get too dramatic about what I found—which isn’t true. My dream of becoming a reporter is closing in. I feel it in my bones. This could be my chance. And it can give some media attention and public awareness of April’s abduction. I can be the one who follows this through and helps to locate her.

The police will always feel the opposite about press attention. They always do, but it feels like it’s the least I can do for April. She may have been lying to me but I can still speak on her behalf. In fact it’s crazy that I haven’t yet. Fuck the danger. Did Martha Gellhorn worry about being attacked as a war correspondent when she knew it was the right thing to do? No she did not. Did Diane Fossey shy away from protecting the gorillas from poachers? She didn’t either. If I’m going to make anything of myself, I need to use this opportunity. Who knows when I’ll have another chance to shine?

And now I have to add Blake to the already confusing equation. Every move he makes on me sends a mixed signal. After last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was thrown in a cell for obstructing his case, and there’s just as much of a chance that he’ll come home and drive me wild as I beg him to make me come.

I know which one I’d like more, but I’m realizing it’s not all up to me. I want him even more. The thought of his skin against mine sends shivers down my spine. No one has ever accused me like that and gotten away with it. Let alone still have me aching with erotic need the next day. It’s time I clear my head. Usually guys like Blake are a turnoff for me. But with Blake, I can’t keep it together.

I decide to take it easy to the sofa, but before I sit down, I put the photo album back on the shelf. I’m doing what I can to avoid another accusation of being a snoop. I want him to trust me and give me information—not call me out for being an uncooperative witness.

It’s getting late in the day now, and I haven’t seen him since he left early this morning. My guess is he probably has a long day like the rest of the world, and maybe longer as he had to explain why he’s bringing in two day old evidence. Still, I can’t help but think he’s avoiding me. Again, I’m left with too many questions and no answers. He’s either working, and just doesn’t have time to talk to me, or he’s about to come busting in and drag me off to lockup.

God this is a mess.
How did I get us into this?
I was so wrong about taking April to Caliber. I can’t tell if this whole kidnapping was random, or planned to a tee. Blake may also be right; that this has something to do with Jessup’s associates. Either way, I’m the one who brought April to New York City, so it’s on me. I don’t have the answers to any of this stuff, and I feel like I’m letting April down with every hour that passes. I could cry right now. I can’t avoid the feeling of frustration and worry and anger.

I sink down into the couch again, and pull the blanket high over my head. It’s like a cocoon. I wish I could just disappear, and that none of this was real. I’m acting like an idiot, making wishes like that, but something about being trapped here and unable to do anything, that makes me feel so helpless. I decide to sleep. There’s nothing else to do except think and watch TV, and I want to block these thoughts out.

I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the apartment. The air conditioner is my quiet companion, and there are faint noises coming from the apartment below, but otherwise the place is quiet. I move restlessly from one side to the other. It’s not long before I feel myself start to doze off. There’s nothing anybody can do to me here. At least I’m safe…

I’m having one of those half awake, half asleep dreams. The ones where you know you’re dreaming, but there’s nothing you can do about it. In the dream, the exact opposite of reality is happening. I’m on the phone again. I’m back in the room at the resort after the attack. I’m crying and shaking, but this time I know exactly what to do. I’m as sure as the sky is blue. I call Blake. He picks up and I tell him everything, including the name of my attacker.

He hops into his parents’ car, and he comes for me right away. He’s caring and kind. Together, we go to the police station. He holds my hand while I tell them everything. My parents don’t factor in my decision. My reputation doesn’t factor in either; in my heart, I’m doing the right thing. He’s there for me. I feel happy in my dream, despite everything that has happened.

The dream fast forwards to the two of us dancing. Blake looks amazing and he’s holding me so gently. We’re moving to a soft beat. I feel he’s about to twirl me around in his arms. People are walking around with tiny glasses of sherry. April is dancing alone. She’s happy and keeps shouting out, “Someone has spiked the punch!” We’re all laughing about the punch, like it’s the funniest thing ever. Next thing I know, I look back at Blake. It’s not him holding me in his arms anymore. It’s my attacker; he’s holding me gently just like Blake would.

We’re in public so, I can’t lash out, but I want to. I want to show him what it feels like to have your clothes ripped and your pants forced down around your ankles. The dream becomes colored by my anger. The walls of the hall we’re dancing in have red spots and everyone looks like they’re hungry. I can feel his arms tighten around me.

I’m not going to get away without a fight, so I start to kick at his ankles and shins. The ends of my shoes are pointed and capped with little brass triangles mounted over the leather, but he doesn’t even seem to feel it. His breath stinks and I feel sick. Blake is nowhere around. The music is getting louder. When I try to call for help, no one can hear me. I hate this. I hate that he’s holding me, so I thrash around, trying to break free with one arm. I get out of his grip, and with a roar I wake myself up again.

I nearly scream as I sit up on the couch. Thank God I woke up. There’s never been a clearer message in a dream for me. The message is there’s no point trying Blake again. No point because he’s not in my corner. I need to do something for April. This time I’m not going to be a victim. I’m not waiting for someone who doesn’t show up. If Blake was going to help me, he would have picked up the phone by now.

I get up and my legs feel weak. The emotion overcomes me and I stifle a sob before rushing in to Heather and George’s bathroom. I splash water on my face and pull myself together. Sometimes, the universe shows me exactly what I need to see. If I still believed in God, this would be a message from him showing me the way. But I don’t believe. Instead, I’ve learned to believe in resilience, taking matters into my own hands, and ultimately, being accountable to myself.

Whether Blake and the police will do their best for April remains to be seen. I have to do something, instead of sit around Blake’s place, driving myself crazy. I leave the bathroom for the kitchen, and put the kettle on. It’s time for caffeine and some action.

The dream is long gone and there’s a new focus. I’m feeling ready to take on April’s cause. I take the stairs on my way to the upstairs phone. It’s still on the couch where I left it. I pick it up and move through the dialed numbers to get to the one I phoned this morning. I press redial and wait as it rings. It keeps ringing; no one answers. There’s not even an answering service.
Who the hell doesn’t have voicemail?
Something is up here.

I try the other number and it’s the same deal. I call the operator and ask her to check that the lines are working. They both are. They’re just not answering. It’s late afternoon on a work day, so these may be private homes, owned by people at work. Either that or they recognize this number and don’t want trouble. If that’s the case it would be funny. In one week, I’ve gone from being a damned good news researcher to someone who no one wants to talk to.