Strands of Truth

by Colleen Coble

  Ridge sorted through his first file full of utility bills. Astronomical ones but then this place was huge. He found his dad’s telephone bill and glanced over it. There were several calls to a private investigator.

  “I think I found something.” He showed the number to Scott. “If we don’t discover the report here, we could try calling the guy to see what he found out.”

  He laid the bill aside and continued to scan through the files. Scott worked in silence, too, and half an hour later, they’d turned over every piece of paper in the desk. Their only clue was the investigator’s number.

  Scott picked up the telephone bill again. “The first call was a month ago and the last one was a week before Oliver’s death. It’s possible the investigator couldn’t discover anything.”

  “Or he was still working on it and was reporting progress.”

  “That too. I’ll try giving him a call.” Scott whipped out his phone and placed the call.

  Ridge heard him leave a message asking for a call back. Scott identified himself as a police detective and referenced Dad’s murder. That would either make the investigator call right away or run for the hills if he knew something he didn’t want to divulge.

  Ridge’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway.

  “Ridge? This is Sara Kavanagh. I just heard about Harper being kidnapped.” Her voice held an edge of panic. “What can you tell me?”

  “It’s true.” He ran through the events on the highway. “We’re looking for her and trying to follow any trail that might lead us to her.”

  “She’s pregnant!”

  “I know,” he said evenly. “She told me.”

  Sara swallowed hard on the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to think of anything that might help us figure out who is behind this, and I keep coming up empty. Please let me know right away when you find her.”

  “I will.” He ended the call as Scott’s phone rang.

  While Scott talked to the caller, Ridge went back to the desk. Had they missed anything? He glanced at the bookshelves and remembered all the papers in his dad’s safe. He’d been on a mission looking for the will when he’d opened it last time. Something might be there.

  He opened the bookcase and revealed the safe, then punched in the code. He wrinkled his nose at the stale air inside, then sorted through the stuff, pushing the stacks of money to one side. He removed the rest of the contents and took them to the desk as Scott ended his call and joined him.

  “The videos I took in to be digitized are ready, and one of my buddies will drop them off here. We can take a look at them and see if we can find any clue as to who killed Judy. More papers?”

  Ridge nodded. “From Dad’s safe. He might have locked up the report until he was ready to talk to Harper about it.” He pushed part of the pile to the other side of the desk for Scott to go through and continued to examine the documents he’d kept.

  Scott held up a thick envelope. “This is from the investigator.” He opened the flap and pulled out the sheaf of papers inside, then unfolded them and laid them on the desk between them so they could review them together.

  Ridge’s pulse quickened and he scanned them. “This just looks like a contract with the payment spelled out.”

  He wanted to slam his fist into a wall or something. Every moment that passed brought more fear and uncertainty. Annabelle hadn’t been harmed. He could only hope and pray they wouldn’t hurt Harper either.

  36

  Harper had paced the ten-by-ten room and prayed for what seemed like hours though her watch indicated it had only been ninety minutes. She stepped to the door, then retraced her steps to the opposite wall. She’d stripped the bed, and the mattress lay on the floor, but she’d still found nothing to help her get out of this place.

  Was Ridge alive? The question had spun around and around in her brain through these long hours. She couldn’t bear it if he was dead. She’d been kidding herself for years that she didn’t find him appealing. Now she might have lost any future she might have had with him.

  If he’d have her and the baby. She touched her belly. There’d been no sign of an imminent miscarriage.

  Her mouth felt dry and cottony, so she went to the bathroom and cupped her hands under the stream of cold water. She slurped it down and wiped her wet face with the back of her hand since there were no paper towels or a hand towel. There was no soap either. Nothing to indicate her captor intended for her to shower or stay here long.

  Her heart kicked in her chest. Did that mean her death was already planned?

  She retraced her steps to the door and pounded on it. “Let me out!”

  Every previous time she’d shouted for release there had been no answer. But this time she heard a sliding sound. Someone was throwing open the dead bolt. If only she had some kind of weapon—a lamp, a drawer, anything. Unarmed, she crouched toward the door with her hands clenched. When the door swung open, she leaped toward the woman in a white uniform entering her room.

  She body-slammed the woman, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs with Harper on top. The kit of supplies the nurse had in her hand went sliding across the floor. Harper leaped to her feet and charged through the door toward the exit past the operating table.

  She didn’t see her kidnapper until her hand was on the doorknob. He came at her from the left, and desperate to escape before he grabbed her again, she yanked open the door and took a step through the threshold.

  His hand came down on the bruises he’d left on her forearm, and she winced but continued to rush for the outside. He was too strong though, and he hauled her back inside, then shut and locked the door.

  The ski mask was gone and seeing his face shot tremors through her. He had a lurid scar on his left cheek, and his dark-brown eyes held deadly intent as he spun her around to face him. He gripped her shoulders with both hands, and his fingers bit into her flesh. She smelled sweat under the overpowering scent of his cologne.

  She’d seen him somewhere before. The pizza place maybe?

  “Nice try.” He pulled a length of rope from his pocket and tied her hands in front of her, then turned her toward the bedroom door and goose-stepped her back.

  The nurse was just getting herself up off the floor. She was young and looked like she was barely out of college. Her blue eyes were wary, and she patted her mousy hair back into place.

  The nurse gestured toward the bed. “I need the mattress put back.”

  Harper’s captor shoved her to the corner. “Don’t move.” He locked the door, then heaved the mattress back onto the bed before returning to Harper. “Sit.” He jabbed his forefinger at the bed.

  He didn’t wait for her to comply but marched her to the bed and forced her to sit down. His grip was hard and unyielding, and though she tried to get back up, he kept her seated.

  He nodded to the nurse. “Get it done. Once this is over, the doctor will take care of my little boy.”

  She had retrieved her supplies and approached with the caddy in hand. Harper spied syringes, alcohol swabs, and other medical items. She tried to jerk away again, but the man held her left arm in a tight grip. He moved out of the way while still keeping hold of her.

  The nurse took out a blood pressure cuff and slipped it onto Harper’s arm. She pumped it up and put the cold stethoscope on the bend of Harper’s elbow, then began to let out the air. Once she noted the blood pressure in her notebook, she listened to Harper’s lungs and chest, then took out an elastic band.

  Harper shook her head. “No, I’m not sitting here for this.” She bit the man’s arm as hard as she could and tasted blood, but he didn’t even flinch.

  “It’s your funeral, girlie.” He sat on the bed beside her and dragged her onto his lap, then wrapped both of his arms around hers from behind and held her firmly in place. “Do it,” he said to the nurse.

  She approached with a wary expression. “If you flail around, this will hurt. A lot. I have a sedative if I need to use it,
but I guess you would prefer not to be knocked out.”

  The fight drained out of Harper. She couldn’t struggle if they sedated her, and the sedative wouldn’t be good for the baby. She let the nurse take vials of blood, and then her captor finally released her. She sprang off his lap and shuddered when he gave a coarse laugh at her distaste.

  “I wouldn’t mind feeling you up again.” He leered at her and went toward the door. “Milly, get her some food. Even a condemned person should have a last meal.”

  Condemned? Did that mean they were going to kill her? Why not just do it instead of bringing her here?

  Harper didn’t understand any of this. Her arms ached from being manhandled, and her head throbbed. Food might give her strength—and a tray might bring a weapon with it.

  * * *

  Ridge put his coffee cup on the counter in Dad’s kitchen. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. Maybe we should drive around searching for gray Cadillacs.”

  Scott nodded toward the front of the house. “While I was waiting for you at the Coffee Shop, I watched for gray Caddies. I saw three. One had two kids in the backseat. Another one drove past with two elderly women in it. And that was just in the span of fifteen minutes. They are common.”

  Ridge clenched his right hand into a fist. What could he do? His phone rang, and he saw his sister’s face on the screen. “Willow?”

  “Ridge, I’m on the porch. Could you let me in?”

  “Be right there.” He walked through the house to the front door and let his sister in.

  She wore heels and a suit very much like the one he’d seen their mother in earlier in the day. Her white shirt was a bit creased and tendrils strayed from the French roll on her head.

  “Are you okay?” He didn’t know when he’d seen her even a little bit disheveled.

  She waved her hand. “I’m fine. It was a rough day. One of my patients had a meltdown and attacked me.” Her voice wobbled.

  He took her in his arms. “You’re shaking.”

  “My receptionist had to call the police. It got a little intense.” She pulled away and fumbled for a tissue from her purse, then mopped her wet cheeks. “I’m not usually so emotional. I think it’s Dad’s death. Have you heard when we can have his funeral?”

  “I had a message from the coroner’s office that they’ve released his body. I need to call the funeral home, but there’s been an emergency.” He told her about being stun gunned and Harper’s abduction.

  She put her hand to her mouth. “There’s no sign of her?” Her lingering gaze rested on Scott, who straightened.

  “No, nothing.”

  He squinted in the dim light at the diamond-and-opal bracelet glittering on her wrist. He took her by the hand and pulled her closer. It was an exact match for the one that had been found in Judy’s hand when she was murdered.

  Willow pulled her hand away. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where’d you get that bracelet?”

  “It was Grandma’s. This was one of the pieces Mom gave me. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Grandma? She’d been gone about ten years, so he couldn’t ask her about it. How odd there were two identical bracelets out there.

  “Do you know how she came to have it or its history?”

  “Not much. Mom said there were three of them in existence. Grandma and two of her best friends had them made in 1969, I think it was.”

  So there were three of them. “Any idea who had the other two?”

  Willow frowned and thought for a long moment. “I don’t know if Mom ever said. She might remember though. She’s always interested in genealogy. Is it important?”

  “It might be a clue to who has Harper.”

  His sister looked deeply into his eyes, then nodded. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “We have to find her, save her.”

  Her pregnancy didn’t matter anymore. He could love a child that wasn’t his, and there was plenty of love to go around.

  “Let me call Mom. She’s more likely to cooperate if I ask.”

  That was an understatement. Ridge walked away to give her privacy. Scott came with him. “What do you know about your grandmother?”

  “She came from money. Her dad owned a bunch of imported automobile sales stores all over the state. She went to a finishing school in England and married my grandfather when she was twenty-five. He was in the oil business.”

  “This plays into the clue we had that Judy’s beau was from a wealthy family and so was his fiancée.”

  He watched his sister’s body language and deduced she was getting something from their mother. She was jotting down something on a notepad.

  When she ended the call, she came toward them with a satisfied smile. “She said one of Grandma’s friends is dead—Alice Goodwin. But the other one is still alive. Her name is Elizabeth Kennedy. She used to be Elizabeth Marshall before she was married, and her dad was Grandpa’s partner.”

  “I’ve met her and her family. At least her husband and her son.” Ridge looked at Scott. “It seems a long shot but it’s all we’ve got. Can we talk to her?”

  Scott checked the time. “It’s only seven. I’ll call it in and get the address. That’s Tom’s wife, right?”

  “Yes.”

  The frail old man hadn’t seemed as though he would live long, and Ridge hated to go busting in on a harebrained idea, but there was nowhere else to look, and he had to try something. Maybe Elizabeth would know something about how that bracelet came to be in Judy’s possession.

  While Scott walked off to call and get the Kennedys’ address, Ridge walked his sister to her car. “Thanks for helping me, Willow. Be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  She tipped her head back and studied him. “Harper’s changed you. You’re softer somehow. Your defenses are on the ground.”

  “She’s special. If we make it through this . . .” He stopped and swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. “I hope you take the time to get to know her. She didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in her mouth like we did, but she’s got grit and integrity. I was too ready to believe the worst about her, and I was wrong. It opened my eyes to how quick we embrace bitterness and lay blame when we shouldn’t be making snap judgments about people. She’s the one who told me I should give you the money. How about that?”

  Willow blinked and took a step back. “I want to get to know her, too, Ridge. I’m grateful for a fresh start with you.” Her lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. “I haven’t been the best sister. I’m going to do better.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek. “Let me know when you find her.”

  He laid his hand on Willow’s shoulder. “I will.”

  She got in the car, and he shut the door behind her, then watched her taillights as she turned the corner. Harper had changed so much in his life. He had to find her and tell her what she meant to him.

  37

  August 1970

  Who could resist Annabelle’s blonde curls? Judy had dressed her daughter in a pink dress with lacy socks and white shoes. The bonnet on her head was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. “Daddy’s other woman will be sure to back away when she sees you.”

  She lifted her daughter from the backseat “nest” she’d made for her with a crib mattress filling the space. Annabelle had played quietly with her Raggedy Ann doll and the other toys in the back during the long drive from Weeki Wachee to Clearwater.

  Judy’s stomach fluttered as she stared at the mansion in front of her. It had to cost the earth. Her orange shift dress had seemed so stylish and hip when she put it on this morning, but she realized with a sharp sense of dismay that this woman would likely have the top European fashions at her fingertips. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn these white go-go boots. They felt too trendy and cheap now.

  She pushed away the butterflies in her belly and carried Annabelle to the front door. She pressed the doorbell firmly and waited. No one came to
the door. Had his fiancée seen her through the window and recognized her? Surely not.

  She’d turned to go back to the car when she heard music playing. She followed the sound around to the back where the massive yard sloped down to the beautiful blue of Clearwater Bay. Seagulls squawked down on the dock, and the music nearly drowned out the sound of the waves.

  She found her rival, dressed in a navy-blue polka-dot bathing suit, lying on a blanket in the yard. The Beatles sang “Lady Madonna” and the tune blasted from a transistor radio. The scent of Coppertone suntan oil hung heavy in the air and overlaid the salty breeze. Judy took in the woman’s lovely shape with her taut and perfect stomach. A stomach that had never carried a baby. How did she compete with this woman’s beauty and money? She’d felt the same way the first time they met. Judy’s figure was hardly perfect any longer.

  She dropped her gaze to her daughter’s beautiful face. Annabelle was her ace in the hole. “Excuse me.”

  The woman lifted her head, and she quickly sat up and reached for a beach towel. She rose and wrapped herself in it. “I never thought to see you again.” Her words were flat and hostile. “Do you want the money now?”

  Judy shifted Annabelle to the other arm. “This is Annabelle.”

  The woman’s gaze dismissed them both. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to do the right thing and let him go. He loves us, you know. He’s going to break the engagement to you, but you could make it easy on him.”

  “And why would I want to do that? He doesn’t have the guts to leave me and all I can offer him.”

  “He’s already introduced me to his father and told him he’s going to break up with you,” Judy lied. “He wanted his father to meet his grandchild. If I were you, I’d want to save face and break the engagement myself. Then no one could say I’d been thrown over.”

  The woman’s lids flickered, and the color ebbed from her face. “I don’t believe you.”