by Morgan James
I didn’t know exactly what had transpired when she’d entered the house, but I assumed that the man had knocked me out, then gone after Jana. Would she have had time to change? I made for the bedroom and flipped on the light, my gaze sweeping over the room. The bed was still unmade, the covers flipped back and the pillows askew from our romp this afternoon. My heart clenched, but I forced myself to focus. I didn’t see her phone anywhere—not on the bed, not on the nightstand or dresser. I found her purse on the floor and rooted through it but came up empty. I hoped that meant she’d still had it on her when she was abducted. If we could even get one triangulation, a hint of where they were headed...
My phone rang, tearing me from my thoughts, and I answered without looking at the screen. “Yeah?”
Chief Rutland’s voice came across the line. “I’ve got checkpoints at both bridges, and a third on the main road headed to Longboat Key. If they haven’t made it out yet, they’re not going to.”
Relief and dread mingled in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “What do we do now?” I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit around and wait.
“I’m almost to your place now,” Rutland replied. “We’ll talk in person.”
Almost as soon as I hung up, the sound of a car engine registered, and it slowed to a stop in front of the house, then cut off. I threw open the door just as Rutland was climbing out of the cruiser. I tipped my head toward the living room. “Come on in.”
His gaze flicked over me, still holding the paper towels to my head, before dropping to the battered furniture strewn over the living room. He skirted the damage and headed toward the kitchen. I follow just a step behind him, and he searched for a light switch, then flipped it on and turned to me. “You hurt?”
I pulled the towels away from my head and made a face at the blood I found there. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Head wounds tend to bleed like a bitch anyway.”
Rutland’s lips pressed together in a firm line as he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn.” I tossed the towels on the counter and did as he asked. He made a low humming sound in the back of his throat. “Might need stitches for that one.”
I threw a scowl over my shoulder at him. “I’m not going to waste time in some hospital getting stitches while my girl is gone.”
Rutland inspected me shrewdly. “Tell me what happened.”
I heaved a breath and told him everything I could remember. “I was still out on the patio when Jana went inside. I was locking the cabinet on the side of the house when someone must’ve snuck up on me and bashed me in the back of the head. The next thing I remember was waking up and hearing voices from inside. By the time I made it into the house, they were already getting in the car.”
I told him what she’d been wearing and my speculations about her phone. “She might still have it on her. One of our guys is working on tracing it if it’s still active.”
Rutland was already pulling his phone from his back pocket. He relayed the information I had just imparted, then requested a medic be sent to the house. I slanted a look at him. “Tell me what I can do.”
Not bothering with false hope or worthless platitudes, Rutland gave a slight shake up his head. “Give it some time. My guys are checking every car leaving the island and watching for anything that looks suspicious.”
I growled low in my throat. “That doesn’t really help.”
“There’s no magic formula to these,” he replied.
He was a straight shooter, I would give him that. Although I knew he was telling the truth, I fucking hated the answer. My girl was out there somewhere—and I would tear this island apart to find her if I had to.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jana
Maggie whipped the car around a turn, and I was thrown sideways under the force of the acceleration. The man, Carl, roughly gripped my biceps to yank me upright. I wriggled in place till I was sitting and tried to pull away from him, but his hold was too strong.
Maggie drove within the speed limit, careful not to draw undue attention to us. I could see her reflection in the rearview mirror, and I glared at her. She’d been my best friend, the closest thing I had to a sister, for nearly two years when we’d sung backup for Christina Tucker together. I couldn’t begin to imagine what had possessed her to do this.
A set of flashing red and blue lights through the windshield caught my attention, and my heart gave a hard thump in my chest. The police. From the driver seat, Maggie swore.
“Relax,” Carl spoke up. “Just drive normal.”
The officer sped by, headed in the opposite direction, and despair settled over me. Deep down, I’d been hoping that Vince had called the police and they were already on the way to save me. Less than twenty seconds later, another car whizzed by.
“Carl?” There was no mistaking the worry in her voice this time.
“Follow them,” Carl directed.
Maggie’s head whipped around to look at him. “Are you crazy?”
“Do it.” His tone was hard and commanding, and Maggie reluctantly slowed the car, then turned at the next intersection. My heart thumped erratically as we circled back around and fell in behind the police, who were now far in front of us. Red and blue lights pierced the dark night sky, heralding their position. As we got closer, I could see several police cruisers blocking off the road to the south end of the island that led to Long Boat Key, as well as the bridge back to the mainland.
“They’re shutting down the island,” Carl said softly. “Turn right up here and head back to the house.”
Maggie did as he said, but I watched her fingers clench around the steering wheel. I could tell she was nervous, worried about being caught. Maybe I could use that to my advantage. Carl was definitely the one in charge here. I would have to isolate Maggie and see if I could talk some sense into her.
I watched our surroundings as Maggie wound her way through the side streets before turning back onto the main drag and heading toward the very tip of the island. A few minutes later, she turned left toward the beach and pulled to a stop along the side of what appeared to be a small condo complex. The only light came from a street lamp on the corner; there seemed to be no life within any of the units. Judging from the shape of the building, I guessed there to be at least three condos. With the windows dark, it was hard to tell. They were either uninhabited during this slow season, or the occupants were out enjoying themselves. I prayed they were just out and would be returning soon.
Carl threw open the door, then grabbed my arm and hauled me out behind him. I didn’t have time to move my feet, and I fell from the car, landing on my hands and knees on the rough pavement. My cry of pain was muffled behind the duct tape covering my mouth, and he picked me up like a toddler and set me on my feet. One hand fisted in the back of my shirt, he marched me forward, toward the door on the right side of the complex.
Maggie unlocked the door, and Carl led me through the dark condo. I stumbled a couple of times, bumping into furniture, and Carl roughly jerked me around until we reached a room at the very back of the unit. Lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through a small, frosted glass window, I could tell that it was a bathroom.
“Don’t move.”
I automatically stiffened as I felt Carl’s hands landed on my hips and swept over my backside. My heart fell as he plucked the phone from my back pocket, then stepped away. Damn. I was hoping he would be too focused on everything else to think of checking for a phone. Now that I couldn’t call for help, I’d have to come up with another plan.
“Get in.” Following his directions, I clumsily stepped into the bathtub with its tiled surround. “Sit.”
My body screamed at me to fight back, but there was nothing I could do. There was no way for me to escape—not without the use of my hands.
“Now!”
I jumped and did as he instructed. He pulled the roll of duct tape from his sweatshirt pocket and bound my feet together. He grabbed my hair and directed my gaze to hi
s. Fear gripped me as his dead eyes stared into mine. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
He seemed to be waiting for a response, so I nodded using the limited range of motion with my hair still held in his firm grasp. He searched my face for another long moment, gave a curt nod and released me, then pushed to his feet and left. A sigh filtered through my nose, and I briefly closed my eyes, grateful that he hadn’t tried to hurt me—yet. That at least bought me some time.
With him now gone, I took a look around. There was no paraphernalia on the shelves of the shower, nor was there anything on the vanity. It looked completely bare, as if they had either just arrived or were planning to leave. My heart kicked into overdrive at the realization. Best case scenario, they would try to ransom me. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I knew that wasn’t the case. Dread settled in my gut. I’d already seen their faces—they would have to get rid of me so I couldn’t identify them. I didn’t know how deeply involved Maggie was, so I discarded my earlier idea of trying to appeal to her sense of reason. That left only one option—escape.
Since it was dark, I hadn’t been able to make out most of the condo when we came in. From the layout, I assumed it was small, maybe one or two bedrooms, just like the house Vince and I were staying in. My gaze drifted toward the small window on the wall to my left. Rectangular in shape, maybe a foot and a half tall by three feet wide, it opened by sliding the pane sideways. There was a lock in the middle, but no screen that I could see. It was incredibly narrow for a normal person, but if I contorted myself just right, I might be able to slip through. I would have to go out face first, since there was no stool or anything to climb up on inside. Doing so ran the risk of me falling on my head outside, but I would have to gamble it.
I wiggled experimentally, testing the tape around my wrists and ankles. Vince had taught me self-defense, but we hadn’t discussed escaping bonds. I’d heard once that duct tape would break fairly easily, but I’d never tried it. No time like the present.
Out in the man living area, I heard the soft jingle of a commercial on TV, and I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping it would drown out any noise I was about to make. Keeping one ear tuned to the outer room, I quietly placed my hands on the edge of the tub and maneuvered my feet into position beneath me. My feet were bare, and I prayed they wouldn’t slide out from under me when I tried to stand. Slowly contracting my muscles, I levered myself to my feet, inch by agonizing inch.
Hands and feet bound tight, I debated my next option. The floor of the bathtub was fairly slick, and I didn’t want to risk falling down in here and cracking my head. There was a little more room to move around beside the vanity and toilet, but that meant I would have to get over the edge of the tub. A towel bar was anchored to the wall to my left, but it was too far away to grab.
Praying for the best, I sat on the edge of the tub and tested my balance. Leaning my back against the tiled wall, I slowly lifted my feet until they rested on the edge of the tub. My stomach muscles ached from the effort, and I took a short break. Shifting my weight, I rolled so that my left shoulder was against the wall then dropped my feet to the floor. My bare flesh landed with a soft slap, and I froze, listening for the tell-tale sounds of someone coming.
Thirty seconds passed with no indication that either one of them had heard, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I just had to get out of the duct tape and hope that the window opened. Shuffling toward the middle of the room, I drew back on what I’d read. If I lifted my hands over my head and pulled them down quickly on either side of my legs, it should put enough pressure on the tape to break. Steeling myself, I lifted my hands up in the air, then breathed out and brought them down quickly. My wrist bone glanced off my kneecap, and I bit back a cry of pain as the tape tugged on my skin. I was rewarded at least with a tiny ripping sound, so I tried again.
Lifting my hands over my head a second time, I threw them downward, angling my arms out to the side at the last minute. For a moment, I didn’t think it had worked. Then I felt the feathery caress of duct tape tickle my palm, and I realized with a giddy sense of glee that my hands were free. It had made a God-awful noise though, and I listened once again for Maggie and Carl to come running.
Nothing happened, and my heart began to beat frantically with a combination of hope and adrenaline. I sat down and quickly began to unravel the tape around my ankles, then yanked the tape off my face with a soft cry. My lips and cheeks stung, and tears popped into my eyes, but I brushed them off and began to attack the window.
I flipped the lock up and yanked as hard as I could to slide it open. For a second, it resisted. Then finally, blessedly, the swollen wood slid open an inch. Propelled by determination and fear, I muscled it the rest of the way open and popped my hands on the lip. I braced my toes on the wall and managed to get my torso up and through the opening. The rough wood scraped my shoulder, but I gritted my teeth and pushed on. Outside, the familiar calls of frogs and insects met my ears, along with the sound of laughter from a few streets over.
I wiggled myself most of the way through, but my hips got stuck just as I heard footsteps squeaking along the tile floor of the condo, each one growing louder as the person neared the bathroom. All of a sudden, the door flew open and the lights came on.
“Goddamn it!”
I kicked my feet wildly, trying to push myself the rest of the way through the window. But Carl was too fast, too strong. He grabbed me and yanked me backward, scraping my stomach and chest as he dragged me back into the bathroom.
“Help!” I screamed. “Over here!” Vince’s words came back to me, and I switched tactics. “Fire! Help, fire!”
Carl’s hand connected with the side of my face, and I stumbled to the floor. He slammed the window shut and locked it, then grabbed my hair and yanked. My feet slipped on the cool tile floor as I tried to keep up with him while he dragged me toward the living room. I let out a grunt of pain when he dropped me to the floor, then backhanded me again.
Stars danced in front of my eyes, and spittle splattered over my cheeks as he leaned close and spoke. “Stupid little bitch. I’m going to make you regret that.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Vince
I prowled around the living area like a caged panther and ran my fingers through my hair for what seemed like the hundredth time since Rutland and the medic had left ten minutes ago. The wound on the back of my head had been cleaned, but I’d refused to go to the hospital as they’d suggested. I tried to stay out of the way as a few officers milled around the small house, lifting prints and analyzing the scene. A sick sense of helplessness rose up as my gaze landed once more on the overturned furniture and broken lamp. Every second that passed without word of Jana was pure agony, and I was ready to scream.
My phone rang, and I snatched it from my back pocket, already sliding my thumb over the screen before the caller’s name registered. “Yeah?” I barked out.
“Sorenson is a no-go,” Con replied.
I let out a swift curse. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Sullivan’s got him under surveillance, and he says the guy hasn't left his house all afternoon.”
Fuck. Who the hell else could it be?
“I've reached out to Phelps to see if he has any new information,” Con said. “He did tell me that analysis on the handwriting came back, and they've officially ruled out Sorensen writing the three threatening letters.”
My heart hit the floor around my feet. “So we're definitely looking for someone else then.”
“Looks that way,” Con replied grimly. “His prints were found on the love letters, and all seven of those were postmarked from the same place. The other three letters show no trace of fingerprints, partial or otherwise, and each was postmarked from a different location.”
I thought on that for a second. Someone was definitely trying to cover their tracks.
“We need to figure out who else may have a grudge against her,” Con continued. “Any ideas?”
I frowned at t
he question. Looking at it objectively, I had to admit that there were probably several people out there who despised Jana on principle, whether they were in the music industry or just part of the general populace. It was irrational for a normal person to hold that much of a grudge against Jana just for being popular and successful, but stranger things had happened. Jealousy and inferiority fueled all kinds of negative feelings which could bubble to the surface.
“Not off the top of my head. Anything on social media?” I questioned.
“Nothing out of the ordinary that Doyle has found,” he replied. “But that's kind of like searching for a needle in a haystack. Her assistant handles all of her stuff, right?”
I nodded. “I believe so.”
“Let's reach out to her and see if she’s seen or heard anything strange and go from there. She may even know someone who might wish Miss Malone harm.”
“I can't imagine. I think the police have already questioned her.”
“Never know,” Con said. “Sometimes people think of things after the fact.”
“Fair enough. I'll try to get a hold of her and get some answers.”
I hoped Maggie would be able to help as I clicked over to my contacts and dialed her number. I waited impatiently as it rang several times, then rolled over to voicemail. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and unease slithered through me. It wasn't like Maggie to not answer her phone. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen her without it in hand. Unease quickly turned to alarm as my second phone call went unanswered.
I dialed a third time, grimacing as it too went to voicemail. Shit. What if something had happened to her, too? Disconnecting the call, I tapped Con’s number, and he answered on the second ring. “What’d you find out?”