“How much is the going rate for a kidnapping?” Travis asked, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the room.
“Thirty grand.”
Holy cow. Heather couldn’t fathom it. “How did I not know this was a thing?” Had she been living with her head in the sand for so long she was out of touch with current pop culture? “Go on.”
“Anyway, they match you up with a compatible client—like someone who wants to experience a kidnapping—transfer half of the money to your account, minus the company cut, and then pay you the rest after everything is over with. Again, minus the company percentage.”
Heather rubbed her head. The pounding had returned.
“I’ve verified the company,” Caden said, “and it’s legit. Donnie’s worked for them for about two years now. However, they said they never sent him out on this specific job, but it looks like someone hacked into their system. The head of the company is investigating on his end while we keep looking into things on ours. We fast-tracked a warrant for Sam’s and Donnie’s financials and the amount Sam quoted was deposited one day before your kidnapping. Daria, one of our intelligence analysts, found the company contract on Sam’s computer exactly where he said it was—with all of the signatures. Whoever hacked into the company site was probably looking for a legit contract with the signatures. Then simply added Heather’s.” He tapped the screen of his phone, then turned it around so she could see it. “That your signature?”
“I . . . don’t know. I mean, no, it’s not, because I never signed anything like that, but it’s very close.” Sickness welled in her gut, and she pressed her fingertips to her lips while her head upped the pounding. If she didn’t know for a fact she hadn’t signed that, she might think it was her signature. Right down to the little curl she used on her H. Unbelievable. “And they use real bullets?” That was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard of.
“N-no, of course not,” Sam said. “They were supposed to be blanks. Everyone was supposed to have blanks.”
“And the bomb that almost killed our friend?”
Sam shook his head, his rising frustration evident. “It was supposed to just be a smoke screen because everyone was supposed to be in on it and no one was supposed to put up any real resistance when it came time to take you. No one was supposed to get hurt—at least not seriously. Getting banged up might actually happen in the process—and that’s stated in the contract—but definitely no one was supposed to get shot or . . .” He closed his eyes once more and groaned. “I thought something was wrong when everything was going down different than what we’d been told to expect but decided maybe I was just new to the company and things can sometimes go sideways a bit. It was so chaotic that it was hard to think much. I should have known,” he muttered.
“Known what?”
“That it was too good to be true.” He frowned. “What about Donnie? Didn’t he explain all of this to you?”
“We can’t find Donnie.”
“Can’t find him? Why not?”
Caden shook his head. “He’s dropped off the radar. We pinged his cell phone to the gas station where we found you, but after that, it appears he turned his phone off. He hasn’t been in touch with his wife since the morning of the kidnapping.”
Someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to get her out of the picture. “Wait a minute. Those bullets you were shooting after you ran me off the road were real enough.”
Sam frowned. “No, they weren’t. Donnie said he just shot the gun to scare you into running. He figured if you were on the run in the woods, it would be easier to find you when you surfaced back in town. And it was. When I saw you, I called Donnie to let him know.”
“But the bullets were very real,” Heather said. “The explosion was very real. The bullet that put our friend in the hospital was also very, very real.” Her voice rose with each sentence. “So, explain that, because I’m still stuck on the real bullets thing.”
The man raised a shaky hand to rub it over his lips. His wife glared at him. “Yes, Sam,” she said. “Please explain that.”
“Honey, please—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” She looked away and Sam flinched.
“Donnie and I did run you off the road,” he said, “but we didn’t shoot at you with real bullets. They were blanks. At least that’s what I was told. Donnie said he just wanted to throw a scare into the guy with you. How many times are you going to make me say it?”
Heather choked on a bitter laugh. “So, they were blanks. Like the blank you got shot with?”
He blinked. “Well, no, I mean . . .” Sam rubbed a shaking hand down the side of his face. “I don’t understand any of this. Donnie brought the bag with the equipment and asked if we could use the cabin as a secure location to hold the client.”
“Victim,” Heather snapped.
He grimaced. “I said sure, we could use the cabin. Because, why not? It was a game,” he whispered. “Just a game. How did everything go so wrong?”
“When did Donnie ask you to do this?” Caden asked.
“About a week ago. He called me and asked if I wanted in. The money was good and I had the time, so I said yes. Donnie sent me the link to sign up online, then he said he’d handle everything else.”
“Why bother with the whole reality game thing?” Heather asked. “And why you? Why not someone else?”
He winced and pressed a hand to his side. “I don’t know. Probably because Donnie thought it would help me out and . . . I trusted him. He was my friend.”
“Some friend,” Travis muttered. “He left you on the bathroom floor to bleed out and die. If the owner hadn’t found you when he did, you wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Sam’s eyes flashed anger—and hurt. “We’ve been friends since high school. I never in a million years thought he could do something like this. And I sure never would have agreed to be a part of it if I’d known it was the real thing.” He shuddered. Sam locked his pleading gaze on Heather’s. “I’m so sorry.”
It made sense in a weird kind of way. Shockingly enough, she was leaning toward believing him. Could he be an innocent pawn in a madman’s effort to take her? “So, if you ran me off the road in the hopes that you’d be able to snatch me, why didn’t you stick around long enough to do it?”
His eyes slid from hers to his hands on the sheet. Fingers twisted the material tighter and tighter.
“Answer them, Sam,” his wife said, her voice strained and thick with unshed tears.
“I . . . we . . . decided that we’d wait and try another time.”
“You thought she was dead, didn’t you?” Travis asked, his tone registering a lethal level of fury. “You thought you’d killed her, and you had to get out of the area before someone saw you.”
“No, not at all. I mean, yes, we didn’t want to be spotted, but not because we thought she was dead. We knew we’d have a lot of explaining to do if we were caught and we didn’t . . .” He waved a hand. “We saw someone coming and it would be too hard to explain what happened.”
“That someone was me, and if I hadn’t been there, she probably would have died.”
Heather wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Sam paled even more, his skin a pasty white. He looked her in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d never heard of that company, and even more, wish I’d never let Donnie convince me to sign up with them.”
Now that sounded sincere.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Travis felt like a sucker for even considering this far-fetched tale could have a grain of truth in it. However, the signed contract Daria had found on Powers’s computer went a long way toward proving there might be something in his story that was true. And the weird reality company was real enough. Had this guy been a pawn in a very deadly game? If so, who had the skills to put all of this together?
“If I was going to actually kidnap someone, I wouldn’t use a place that could be traced back to me. I do dumb stuff sometimes—as eviden
ced by my current situation. But I’m not that stupid.” The man’s gaze flicked from one person to the next. “Please, you have to believe me.”
“I’m leaning that way,” Caden said.
Heather drew in a sharp breath but nodded. “You were kind to me for the most part.”
“Other than the whole throwing the hood over your face, shoving you into a van, and holding you hostage part?” Travis bit out.
Heather shot him a “be quiet” look, and he subsided with a scowl at the man in the bed.
“Thank you for the migraine pills,” Heather said. “They helped.”
Sam flushed. “I thought it was all a game, so I was playing the part. But I could tell you were in real pain. I couldn’t let you suffer.” His eyes drooped, but he forced them back open.
“I don’t think this was a game to Donnie,” Heather said.
“Of course it was.”
“Sam,” his wife said, her voice sharp. “You are not that dense.”
The man flinched. “We’ve been friends for years, Tammy.”
“And I’ve never liked him.” She glanced at the others in the room. “Which is probably why my husband snuck around behind my back to hang out with him.”
Sam didn’t refute her statement. Instead, he focused on Heather. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to find the words to tell you how sorry I am.”
Travis met Heather’s gaze and he was surprised to see a flash of compassion in her eyes. Then she blinked and it was gone. “At the cabin, you stuck me in the room and left me, but I could hear someone on the phone. Who were you waiting for? Who hired you?”
“I assumed it was you, so I don’t know. Donnie was the one who talked to the point person.” He shuddered. “He was super intense and took this whole thing really seriously. I mean, I know it’s a lot of money, but he was really into it.”
“Because it was the real thing to him,” Travis said.
Sam frowned, then gave a slow shake of his head. “Again, I don’t know. It sure looks that way, but we were both playing a part, remember? Donnie’s my friend and I have a real hard time picturing him doing this—and knowingly dragging me into it.”
“Well, he did.” Tammy glared at her husband. “And now he’s missing, so that leaves you to take the fall. He set you up and you’re too big of a fool to see it.”
Sam gave a slight wince but kept his gaze on Travis. “I mean, obviously, I can’t say for sure he knew it was the real deal. He sure acted like he didn’t. At one point, he even told her to shut up and that she’d signed up for it.”
“He played his part well,” Heather said, “very well.”
Sam glanced at Heather. Then Travis. “Maybe.” His chin dropped to his chest. “And you were right.”
“About what?”
Sam’s gaze returned to Heather. “When you went over the side of the mountain, I was scared to death you were really hurt. Or dead. Donnie was driving and I yelled at him to stop, but he kept going. Said he’d call 911 as soon as we got to a safe spot—and could find a signal.”
“We don’t have any record of a 911 call other than from these two,” Caden said, pointing at Heather and Travis.
“Why am I not surprised?” Sam sighed and shut his eyes, swallowed hard. “Again, I’m sorry. I wish I could rewind time and do everything differently, but . . .” He opened his eyes and focused on Heather. “I know I’ve said it, but I’ll say it a million more times if I thought it would help. I truly am sorry.”
Heather ran a hand down her face, spun, and exited the room.
Travis caught Caden’s eye. “I’ll check on her.”
Tears leaked beneath Sam’s closed eyes and he kept saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” as Travis left the room.
He found Heather in the hallway leaning against the wall, shaking. Without speaking, he pulled her against his chest and simply held her.
“He’s nice,” she muttered. “And I believe every word he said. And on top of that, I feel sorry for him. What kind of idiot am I?”
“The same kind I am.”
She stilled then looked up at him, her blue eyes glittering. “You’re buying it too?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“I still have so many questions. The main one being, who is the person behind everything? Who’s going to so much trouble to rub me off the map, and why is it worth the boatload of money to make it happen?”
“All good questions.”
Caden stepped out of the room and eyed them. “You two all right?”
“I just had to get away for a moment to catch my breath,” Heather said.
Caden gave a short nod and disappeared back into the room.
Travis squeezed her shoulder. “Want to get some coffee?”
“I’d love some. And a doughnut. Maybe even two.”
“Since when do you consume that much sugar?”
“Since someone tried to kill me and I discovered life’s too short not to enjoy the occasional sugar binge.”
He hugged her fiercely. “Come on, I’ll buy you some coffee and a donut or two.”
“Right now, you’re my absolute favorite person on the planet.”
“I was going for the universe.”
She laughed and turned to head to the elevator. And stopped. A gasp escaped her, and she gripped his bicep. Tight.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s him,” she whispered.
Travis turned to catch a glimpse of a man at the end of the hall. He was dressed in a plaid jacket and a baseball cap. “That’s him!”
Travis stuck his head in the door of the room. “Caden, need you in the hall. Now.”
Caden bolted toward him while Travis jerked his gaze back to the man in the plaid jacket. Travis almost expected him to flee, but he stood his ground, then started walking toward them.
Travis pulled Heather behind him. “Stop right there.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Caden said.
The man stopped and slowly removed his hat, clutching it in front of him. His dark eyes met Heather’s, then quickly shifted away. But his stony expression morphed into softness. “As-salaam alaikum,” he said. Travis recognized the Pashto greeting for hello. “Pardon me for interrupting, but I have been trying to speak with you for several weeks.” Still he wouldn’t meet Heather’s eyes very long, instead transferring his gaze to Travis.
“You’ve been watching me for several weeks,” Heather said, stepping around Travis to face the man she claimed was her stalker. “And you broke into my house? Chased me off the road? Hired people to kidnap me?”
His eyes widened and this time they connected with Heather’s. He held up a hand. “No, no, no. That is not true. Not at all. You don’t understand.”
“Then why don’t we take a ride to the police station,” Travis said, his blood boiling, “and you make us understand.”
“Hold up, people,” Caden said, “he’s done nothing wrong. At least nothing anyone can prove at the moment, so let’s all take a deep breath and rein it in.”
Heather’s lips snapped together, and Travis could feel the slight tremors shuddering through her.
“Please,” the man said, “can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Do I know you?” Heather asked.
“No, but you knew my son, Abdul.” His voice broke on the name, his face tightening with the effort to hold back strong emotions.
Heather swayed and Travis moved his grip from her hand to her bicep. “Abdul?” she whispered. “Wait.” Heather’s eyes narrowed and she raised a hand to her lips. “I do know you. You’re Musa Barakat.”
“Heather?” Travis steadied her, taking in her pale features and shadowed eyes.
“I’m okay,” she said.
The automatic response didn’t fool him, and he glared at the man who’d brought even more trauma into her life.
“All right, Mr. Barakat,” Caden said. He flashed his badge and eyed the newcomer. “Do you have any weapons on you?”
Heather cleared her throat, turning toward Caden. “That’s not necessary. I think we’ve jumped to some very big conclusions here. I know this man—by reputation only—from my time in Afghanistan. He’s a good man, trying to turn his country around. He’s no threat to me.” She looked back at Mr. Barakat. “Sir, where’s your security?”
“I came without them.”
“I bet they’re not very happy about that.”
“It is one reason I have tried to keep a very low profile, worn the silly baseball cap and sunglasses. I do not want anyone to know that I am here.”
“Let’s head down to the cafeteria to talk. Feel free to put the baseball cap back on. Travis, you lead the way.” She paused and cut her gaze to him. “I mean, Travis, would you be so kind as to lead the way? I wouldn’t want to bark orders or anything.”
Travis narrowed his eyes at the dig. Caden raised his brow and glanced at Gavin, who raised his hands in a “don’t ask me” gesture.
“I’d be happy to,” Travis said, biting his lip on a smile. At least she still had her sense of humor, even in the midst of confronting her possible stalker.
On the way to the elevator, Caden and Travis stayed behind Heather and Mr. Barakat while Gavin walked in front of them.
“You think he’s legit?” Travis asked, keeping his voice low, eyeing the man’s hands.
“I don’t know. Heather obviously isn’t worried about him, but I sent a text to Annie along with the guy’s picture. She’ll get back to me soon enough. Let’s keep him busy until we find out.”
“Good enough.”
Once they were seated at a table in the cafeteria, Travis noticed Heather’s haunted expression and figured she was reliving the moment the bomb had gone off. Or maybe her moments in the hospital with Abdul were playing through her memory.
Travis would admit he’d watched the video after learning about it, just to see what the others were so indignant about. The more he watched, the more his anger had risen. He’d been furious with the person who’d shot the video of her performing the surgery, but he had to admit, watching Heather in action had sent his admiration multiplying exponentially.
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