She heaved a breath. At least they’d brought her something to drink. Hunger had been the least of her worries, but she was thirsty and should retrieve the sustenance in case something else in here claimed it first.
She felt her way up the stairs and found a warm paper bag and icy cup. She eased back down and collapsed against the wall to wait for the pressure inside her skull to diminish. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the smell of greasy fast food and gagged.
Of course they’d brought her a burger. Her tormenters probably thought they were offering ambrosia, but her stomach churned at the thought of eating meat again. No matter. She would ignore the beef and eat the bread. There might even be some lettuce or tomato.
Maybe her kidnappers were Reese’s bad guys after all. He’d said they were vicious, and this behavior certainly qualified. At least in her opinion. Maybe they hadn’t beat her, but not telling someone why something happened was the cruelest thing of all. The sort of practice her father had loved to indulge in.
I am not required to explain why, Kimberly, her father would say in his stern voice when punishing her or refusing a request. Let’s just say it’s for your own good, so you don’t turn out like your mother.
Taki sipped the cola, refusing to dwell on the chemicals and sugars inside the liquid. She didn’t have an option. She needed to maintain her strength if she wanted to escape. She rolled the cool waxy container across her neck and began to feel a little better.
What time was it?
She’d rejected the idea of being focused on time because how could you rejoice in the present moment if you were always worried about the future? Life was a journey to be enjoyed along the way.
Only she wasn’t enjoying herself very much right now, and she’d give anything to know how long she’d been locked away in this hovel. She didn’t even know what day it was, how long she’d been unconscious. She’d never had any use for a watch before, but right now really wished she had one.
She’d been taken prisoner on Saturday. Was this Sunday? Depending on the drug Hector gave her, it could be Monday. When she woke up, it sure felt as if she’d been out a long time. Like in a coma. Rubbing the bump on her head, she again wondered how she’d gotten it. Did she have a concussion? Is that why her head ached?
Probably no one had even missed her yet. The ashram had come to expect only sporadic visits, and she wasn’t due to teach there until Wednesday. Surely it wasn’t Wednesday. Victoria planned to spend three days on Little Palm Island at her favorite getaway. The students in her Monday night class at SoBe Spa would wonder why she didn’t show and probably complain to management, but Lourdes certainly wouldn’t notify the police. Probably no one would worry until the Thursday night class.
She shivered. That would mean being locked away for six days.
Reese might try to call her to set up the meeting with the Trust. Oh, how she’d love to talk to him. Her spirits lifted just thinking about him. He would know precisely what to do in this situation. If only she had a cell phone.
She shook her head. Suddenly she coveted all the technology she had rejected, but could see how in a crisis electronics had their uses. Of course a cell phone would also tell her the date and the time. Reese always had a cell phone clipped to his belt. What had he said the night of the theft? Right—his whole life was inside his phone. He bought a new one the next day.
She’d thought that was ridiculous. Now she wasn’t so sure.
If she got out of this prison—no, when she did, maybe she’d start taking advantage of modern technology. Kind of nice to have for emergencies.
But of course Hector would have taken her cell phone if she had one.
She sighed. Even if she had a phone, she couldn’t tell Reese where she was. She didn’t know where she was. But maybe they could trace the connection. The FBI likely knew how to do that. More technology.
Thinking about Reese made her feel better, comforted her somehow. She hugged her knees to her chest. What was he doing right now? Was he in court? In his office? Was he aware that she was missing? Probably not. Even if he’d tried to call her, why would he be alarmed when there wasn’t any answer?
But maybe—maybe if she cleared her thoughts and meditated she could focus on contacting him. He might tune in. In her new book, the author talked about how a psychic connection could exist between soul mates. Maybe he could trace the call. She almost laughed. Just, well, a different type of a call.
She arranged her legs in lotus position and elongated her spine so that energy could travel freely. No flickering flame to focus on, but she’d make do with the light around the door. Breathing in an even, controlled rhythm, she cleared her mind by murmuring over and over the calming mantra that Navi had given her.
“Let all beings be happy and free. Let all beings be happy and free.”
Meditations were visualized journeys. She’d visualize a journey to visit Reese.
What would she say to him when she found him?
* * *
REESE STARED INTO the interrogation room at FBI headquarters where Javi was seated across from Izzo and his public defender.
Judge Robinson had adjourned at 4:45 p.m. and instructed counsel to be in her courtroom promptly at nine the next morning. Reese immediately called Javi to get an update and learned Izzo’s appointed counsel had finally arrived.
Yes, the wheels of justice move slowly.
“I’m still going at him,” Javi had told him. “Come on over and watch the fun.”
So far the interrogation wasn’t much fun.
“Briefcase? Jaguar?” Izzo issued a short, unpleasant laugh and tilted his chair, balancing on the rear legs. “I’m telling you I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Do I look like the type that would work out at a ritzy spa? Gimme a break.”
Eyeing Izzo’s wiry frame through the one-way window, Reese agreed the hit man probably didn’t pump much iron. Romero used him for his stealth and cunning, not his muscles.
Izzo’s attorney, David Roemer, a man Reese didn’t know and had never worked with, whispered in Izzo’s ear. Izzo made a face and returned the legs of his chair to the floor with a bang, the sound echoing in the interrogation room.
Javi placed his hands on the battered table and leaned toward the suspect. “Then tell me where you were between 6:00 and 10:00 p.m. on February 3.”
Izzo glared at Javi but no longer appeared quite as cocky. “I already told you, man.”
“Tell me again.”
“I picked up a hooker that night near Seventy-ninth Street. Peaches. She’ll remember me. We had a memorable evening.”
“So you say.” Javi placed his hand to an earbud, obviously listening to a message. He rose and moved toward the door. “We’re trying to locate this mysterious Peaches. Maybe we just did.”
“Hey, that’s your problem, man.” Izzo raised his voice as Javi exited the room. “I didn’t steal nothing that night. No damn punch bowl, nothing.”
Through the window Reese watched Izzo pound a fist on the table while his attorney again tried to calm him. Roemer was likely counseling his client to cooperate. Funny thing, though. Javi hadn’t been able to poke holes in Izzo’s story after hours of questioning. The scumbag just might be telling the truth.
Reese turned when the door opened. Javi and Mark Scott, another special agent, entered the observation room.
“We found Peaches,” Scott said. “She confirms that Izzo was with her.”
“All night?” Reese asked.
“Late enough.”
Javi leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “I believe him, Reese. Izzo knows nada about the theft at the spa. Someone else lifted your briefcase.”
Javi and Scott exchanged glances. “A third car reported items missing the night of the theft,” Javi said, “but the insurance company denied the
claim, citing fraud.”
Scott checked his notes. “Apparently one Hector Morales is a real solid citizen who regularly files questionable claims against his auto policy.”
“Does this Hector work at the spa?” Reese asked.
“Personal trainer.”
Reese nodded. “I know who he is.”
“He waited until the next morning to report a radio missing,” Scott said. “The receipt he provided turned out to be bogus.”
“Okay,” Reese said. “I agree he sounds shady. But why would he break into my vehicle? Does he have any connection to Romero?”
“None that we can find.” Scott shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to substantiate his phony claim, make it look like one theft of many.”
“Or maybe he really wanted a new radio,” Javi added. “We’re checking out him and other employees of the spa now.”
Reese nodded. “You can reach me on my cell. Let me know what you find out.”
“Do you think Taki is acquainted with this Hector?” Javi asked.
You mean Kim? Reese wanted to say.
“Taki knows him,” he told Javi. “Hector even spoke to her the night of the theft.”
“I’d like to interview her and see what she knows,” Javi said. “You never know what we might learn.”
“Good,” Reese said on his way out the door. “Let me know when you find her.”
“You still haven’t talked to her?” Javi asked.
“No.”
On his drive to the federal building, Reese’s worry about Taki resurfaced. Where was she? And what exactly was the relationship between Taki and Hector? The personal trainer had been damned friendly the night of the theft, but flippant about her loss when she’d obviously been upset. He’d probably decided after the fact to take advantage of the situation and make his own phony claim.
Did Taki know her coworker liked to dabble in insurance fraud?
In his office, Reese dropped his briefcase and collapsed in his huge leather chair. What a day. And the week only promised to get worse as the Romero trial proceeded.
With the office switchboard now closed to incoming calls, no one could reach him except through his cell. He placed the phone on his desk. Javi might need to contact him with good news. There could always be a break in the case. Hell, maybe the agent would manage to contact Taki.
Reese picked up the neatly stacked pile of messages left by his secretary. He flipped through them. Nothing from Taki, so they could all damn well wait.
Worry niggled at him again. Where was she? Maybe her landlady would know.
Mrs. Van Buren answered on the first ring.
“Mrs. Van Buren, this is Reese Beauchamps.”
“Oh. Yes, Reese.”
An uneasy feeling settled in his gut when he heard her high, breathless voice. She didn’t sound happy to hear from him.
“I hope you remember me. I met you with Taki in her cottage a week or so ago.”
“I know who you are,” she said firmly. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping you can tell me where Taki is. I haven’t been able to reach her.”
“Oh, dear. Well, I was away all weekend. I just returned home a short time ago.”
“The thing is I’m getting worried,” he said. If Mrs.Van Buren had been out of town, she wouldn’t know if Taki had bolted.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Victoria said.
“I think it’s possible she left Miami. Could you check to see if her clothes and other personal effects are gone?” Like maybe the angels over her bed.
Mrs. Van Buren didn’t answer for a moment, then sighed. “I suppose I could let myself in.”
“Thank you. Please call me back. I’ll give you my cell number.”
Reese held on to the receiver after Mrs. Van Buren disconnected, trying to figure out what about their conversation seemed off. He tapped the receiver against his chin.
He was being ridiculous. The landlady had obviously been expecting to receive a call from someone else, that’s all. And it shouldn’t surprise him if Taki had disappeared. He’d seen tangible proof of how the woman jumped from city to city. Hell, she’d even told him she was leaving. Stress and lack of sleep were making him jumpy.
He replaced the receiver. Would she inform him of a decision to bolt? Friday night she’d been angry enough to never speak to him again.
He left his hand on the phone while the foreboding rose again. Taki would never leave without telling him goodbye. No way. No matter how mad she got.
And just how the hell did he know that? He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.
He shook his head. When Victoria Van Buren called him back, he’d find out if Taki had moved. He just had to be patient, wait fifteen minutes, maybe a half hour. An hour tops.
He loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair. Eyeing the sofa on the opposite side of the room, he decided to rest his eyes until he heard from Mrs. Van Buren. In fact, he’d spend the night in the office. He always kept an emergency change of clothing for court and could take a morning shower in the fourth-floor locker room.
He couldn’t sleep at home, anyway. Maybe that couch would work better.
He collapsed onto the plush cushions and closed his eyes. Just a few moments of rest. That’s all he needed.
Gasping for air, Reese jolted awake, aware only of an overpowering impression of Taki—of her feeling closed in and frightened. As the comforting reality of his office sofa beneath him registered, her presence faded. Feeling claustrophobic himself, he swung his feet to the floor and sat up. Worry about her had obviously caused a nightmare, but he had no specific memory of any dream.
Morning light filtered into his office, and he moved to the window to watch the sun rise over Miami Beach. With an endless horizon spread out before him, how could he feel shut in?
Reese grabbed his cell phone when its ring tone sounded in the quiet room. Damn. Almost 7:00 a.m. He needed to get moving.
“Where are you?” Agent Rivas asked bluntly.
“In my office,” Reese said, his head clearing. What bug was up Javi’s ass?
Reese checked his phone for a missed call or a voice mail. Victoria Van Buren had never called him back. Why was that?
“There’s no easy way to say this, Reese, but Taki’s Jeep was pulled out of a canal yesterday afternoon.”
Reese felt himself go ice-cold. He squeezed his phone hard. “What?”
“I put an APB out on her vehicle and just got an email. I’m on my way to the impound lot now.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Reese said.
* * *
WHEN TAKI AWOKE, it seemed as if she stood on top of the world—or a mountain, anyway—with the sun warming her face.
But the reality of her damp dungeon terminated that precious feeling of freedom. Bitter disappointment was followed by an exhilarating rush of memory.
She’d dreamed about Reese. It felt so real—as if she could reach out and touch him.
She sat up and leaned against the wall trying to hold on to the images rapidly fleeing her head. But of course that’s the way dreams were. You could never remember the details. But she’d had the sense that he’d been working, maybe even in his office. Well, naturally she’d dream about that. Reese practically lived to work, and wasn’t the most important trial of his career about to begin?
Or had it already begun?
She frowned, again confused about time. Well, if she ever saw Reese again, she’d tell him what she thought about him working all the time.
Most likely her vision had been a dream. Even so, it’d been a nice one. She had tried to communicate that she needed help, to show him her location. But of course she’d failed in that particular task since she didn’t know where she was.
Taki st
ood and stretched her arms overhead, her fingertips grazing the gritty top of the small prison. Time to salute the sun—even if she couldn’t see it—and center herself. She needed to remain open because she intended to try to contact Reese again and again. Why not? If she kept sending out a psychic signal, maybe he could use it as a beacon and home in on her.
While she moved through her yoga positions, Taki again cautioned herself that the vision might have been an ordinary dream. She’d fallen asleep while visualizing a journey to Reese, so it was logical that she would think of him in her sleep.
No matter. It’d been a comfort to be with him again. She enjoyed the comforting sensation that he would rather die than harm her, that she could trust him...that she should trust him. And maybe he was right about her motivations. Did she fear ending up like her mom? Was it possible she hadn’t properly mourned her death? She used meditation and yoga to avoid even thinking about her mother.
Taki froze midstretch and placed her knees on the floor, her thoughts paralyzed by the force of the startling idea that gripped her.
She needed to trust Reese. If she truly trusted him, totally and completely with her whole heart, would her soul mate come for her? Was that the lesson she needed to learn?
The thought stunned her with its power and clarity.
Oh, she ached to believe in him. She truly did.
But Reese wanted her to stop running. If she did, if she let her father back into her life, she’d have to forgive him. In order to do that, she’d have to trust Reese that this was the right thing for her. Could she do it? Could she let go of all the bitterness and forget the past?
If pardoning her father meant release from this hell hole, surely she could do it.
But maybe not. She found herself turning away from the idea, wondering if maybe she’d clung to the pain and resentment for so long that she couldn’t let it go.
* * *
REESE SHOVED ASIDE soaked vegetation from the bumper of the wrecked Jeep and read a faded message: Free Tibet.
A cold wind swept across the impound lot, and he shivered. Was Taki at the bottom of a murky canal? Had she lost control of the Jeep and swerved in? He closed his eyes against the chilling thought that she might be dead.
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