Javi approached, and Reese moved to meet him.
“It’s her Jeep,” Reese said. “No question.”
“I know.” Javi’s face was grim. “Listen...I’m sorry, man.”
“Did they find a body?” Reese asked, his voice sounding hollow even to himself.
“The county scuba team searched, but came up empty. The good news is that the Jeep was pushed in, not driven. Probably whoever junked the vehicle just wanted to hide it.”
Relief swept through him. There was a chance that she was still alive. Now all he wanted to do was find her.
“Any idea yet how long the Jeep had been under water?” Reese asked.
“Not more than a few days, but the lab will tell us for sure. The local fisherman who made the report said it wasn’t in the canal last weekend.”
Reese nodded. The Jeep had been parked in front of Taki’s cottage Friday night and this was Tuesday morning. Three days. She could have been in trouble for three days.
“When did you last see her?” Javi asked.
“Friday night. I haven’t been able to reach her since then. Have you questioned Hector?”
“Can’t find him. We’ve posted an APB and someone’s watching his apartment.” Javi hesitated, then said, “No one has seen him since Friday, either.”
“This is crazy.” Reese ran a hand through his hair, trying to cut through the shock of Taki’s disappearance so he could focus on the facts. What was going on? Had someone at the spa discovered her real identity?
“I want you to requestion a SoBe Spa member by the name of Benny,” Reese said. “He attends Taki’s yoga classes and delivered the first note about her bowl.”
“I’ll try,” Javi said, jotting notes. “The thing is my supervisor is squawking about the time my team is spending on this case. He doesn’t see any connection to a federal crime now that we’ve determined Izzo didn’t break into your vehicle.”
“Come on, Javi.”
The agent shrugged. “In my boss’s mind, this is now a missing person case. A problem for the local authorities.”
“Maybe not.” Reese folded his arms and stared at the Jeep. “There’s something you don’t know.”
“What?” Javi asked.
“Taki’s not who you think she is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her real name is Kim Spencer, and she’s the heir to an immense fortune.”
“No shit?” Javi’s tone dripped shock, and Reese knew it wasn’t easy to surprise the seasoned agent.
“Yeah. And I’m talking about a serious amount of money. I’m wondering if someone found out who she is and...”
Javi narrowed his eyes. “You think she’s been kidnapped?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“But no ransom note?”
“Not yet anyway.”
After a moment Javi nodded. “Okay. You owe me big-time, but I’ll get a warrant to search her home. Maybe we’ll find a lead there.”
Reese sighed in relief. He couldn’t search for Taki alone. He needed the FBI’s assistance. “Thanks, man.”
“By the way, aren’t you supposed to be in court?”
Reese glanced at his watch and groaned. “I’m already late.”
Javi whistled. “If I know Judge Robinson, she’ll make you pay for that.”
* * *
OUT OF BREATH, Reese entered Judge Robinson’s hushed courtroom at nine forty-five. Every eye in the room focused on him as he proceeded up the aisle.
“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Beauchamps.”
Reese winced at the frosty sarcasm in Judge Robinson’s voice. Joanna had made a phone call to the judge’s chambers, but who knew if she had even received the message.
“My apologies to the Court,” Reese said in his most respectful tone. “I was unavoidably detained.”
The judge leveled her gaze on him. “You not only kept me waiting, but several hundred prospective jurors.”
Reese placed his briefcase on counsel table, refusing to glance at Romero and his team of lawyers. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
But he wasn’t. He’d had no choice but to confirm the vehicle removed from the canal had indeed been Taki’s. Hell, he’d gladly suffer through a tongue-lashing all day if it would undo the painful truth that she was in trouble. Big trouble. He jammed a hand in his pocket and tightened his fist.
What had happened to her? How soon would the FBI lab have answers from the Jeep? Would Javi find out anything from Taki’s home? Would he learn anything from Benny?
Or would Javi’s boss reassign him?
“You can make your explanations to me later, Mr. Beauchamps.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Bring in the first panel of jurors,” the judge instructed her bailiff.
Off the hook for now, Reese sat at the prosecution table and nodded at his white-faced assistant. Poor Max. The first-year attorney looked damned relieved that his lead prosecutor had appeared. Reese trusted Judge Robinson would remain unbiased even if she was thoroughly pissed off. Of course she didn’t know or care that a precious light in the world might have been extinguished.
Reese grabbed his pen and slashed lines on a legal pad to create the outline that he utilized in making juror decisions and refocused his thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the business of selecting a good jury, one that would put a bottom-feeder like Romero away for life.
A group of seven men and five women entered the jury box and sat down, their curious gazes examining the high-ceilinged courtroom. Reese tried to smile at them, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to be here.
“All right,” Judge Robinson said. “Let’s proceed, Counsel.”
He wanted to be searching for Taki.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TAKI FELT CAREFULLY around the gritty floor of her prison, searching for something to help her. A rock, a nail, anything. Surely she could find something in this miserable hole she could use to loosen the hinges on the door.
Maybe it was a foolish plan, but it was a plan nonetheless, and she felt better for having thought of something to do to get out of this prison.
She couldn’t sit around and do nothing hoping Reese would find her. She needed to trust him, yes. And she would. She did. She now believed he was right about her father.
Every time she thought of her father and tried to soften her heart toward him, she could hardly breathe. She remembered being locked in her room as punishment for breaking one of his rules. Rules put in place, he insisted, so she didn’t end up a cheater like her mother.
Her mom. Taki closed her eyes and allowed herself to absorb more pain. Indirectly, she was the cause of her mother’s death since losing custody was what pushed her mom over the edge. Taki now realized she’d used yoga as a crutch to keep from feeling the hurt too deeply. She’d kept her heart locked up inside a block of ice, hiding not only from her father but from the pain of her mother’s suicide.
Meeting Reese, falling in love with him, had initiated the big thaw. Her soul mate had shown her what path to take. She needed to trust Reese. She needed to stop running. Yes, she’d have to let her father back in her life, even work on forgiving him, and that was her path to enlightenment. It wouldn’t be easy, but she could do it with Reese’s help.
But to take those important steps—of course Navi would call it “doing the work”—she’d have to first find her own way out of this dungeon and get back to the warmth and light of the sun.
She crawled to the only section of the room she hadn’t yet searched, the area under the stairs. She’d saved this space for last because none of the scant light penetrated and the dark still frightened her. With a deep breath, she patted along the floor, hoping for any sort of tool, and her hand brushed against a smooth, cool obje
ct. Maybe metal.
With a surge of excitement, Taki flicked her finger against its side, and a full, musical tone filled the room.
Her bowl.
She hugged the sacred object to her chest and offered a silent thank-you to the universe for returning the bowl to her. Maybe it was just a symbol, but its presence buoyed her spirit.
With renewed hope she continued her search and soon encountered a hard rectangular object. Could this be Reese’s briefcase? She felt for a handle and found one, then moved into the center of the room for more light.
When she opened the briefcase, she experienced a flash of pure joy. Reese’s cellular phone! She punched buttons searching for an on switch. No lights came on. No sounds. Nothing happened at all.
Disappointed, she realized its battery was dead and tossed the device aside to continue her quest for a tool. None of these treasures would matter if she didn’t make her way to freedom.
Next she found a bound legal-size folder with photocopied pages of a neat feminine scrawl. This had to be the copy of the journal Reese had wanted for his trial. The large margins contained notes in a different handwriting. Probably Reese’s. She gave the file a quick kiss. Her karma-mending path-smoother.
Now she just needed to find something sharp to pry the hinges off that door.
* * *
WHEN JUDGE ROBINSON adjourned court at 5:00 p.m., Reese drove straight toward Taki’s cottage. Stuck at a light, he loosened his tie and cursed rush hour traffic on the route to Miami Beach. Today had been the worst day of his career—hell, the worst day of his life. It had taken every shred of hard-won discipline to remain in that stifling, overheated courtroom and ask meaningless questions of strangers.
Now he had twelve hours to concentrate on finding Taki.
But he was on his own.
On the lunch recess he learned the FBI had processed Taki’s home but found nothing that would lead them to her location. Still no sign of Hector. Agents dispatched to interview Benny hadn’t hooked up with him by the time the noon recess ended. Ditto with Bruce Mayhugh.
And that was all the help he’d get from the FBI. Javi’s boss put an end to further man hours until if and when someone received a ransom note. At least Javi had turned over his file to the Miami-Dade police, but to them Taki was just another missing person in a county full of lost people.
Reese punched in Winslow’s number. He needed to know Taki was in trouble. He’d been unable to reach the man on the recess but left a voice mail.
Winslow answered after one ring. “Reese, what’s going on? Your message worried me.”
“Taki is missing.”
“She’s been missing for years.”
“The FBI found her Jeep at the bottom of a canal. She wasn’t in it.”
“What? Are you—”
“I assume by your response the family hasn’t received a ransom note.”
After a long silence, Winslow said, “Not that I’m aware of. Oh, my God.”
Reese released a breath. No note. Maybe she hadn’t been kidnapped after all. “You should notify her father.”
“I’ll do that immediately.”
“I’d like to talk to him. He might know a motive for a possible abduction. Maybe someone had threatened him or he’d been involved in a recent conflict leaving someone with a grudge.”
But three days and no ransom demand? A kidnapping seemed unlikely, but a possibility he had to cover.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Winslow said, sounding doubtful. Reese shook his head. Surely Spencer would fly into Miami now that his daughter was in danger.
Reese disconnected. He wanted to speak with Victoria Van Buren. If anyone knew where Taki was, she would. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around why, but something about his conversation with the old woman last night bothered him. And why hadn’t she called him back?
Mrs. Van Buren answered the door to her waterfront mansion wearing a flowing red caftan.
“Reese. What a...surprise.”
Was that worry he heard in her high-pitched voice? Definitely tension. “I’d like to speak to you, Mrs. Van Buren. May I come in?”
“Certainly. And please call me Victoria.” She swept her arm in a regal fashion to show him the way.
Reese followed her into a parlor, noting that the room smelled musty and was sparsely furnished.
“Any word on Taki?” she asked. “The FBI searched the carriage house today, but wouldn’t tell me anything.” She motioned for him to have a seat.
“I expected you to call me back last night,” Reese replied as he sat on a sofa that had probably been new when Victoria was young.
“Oh, dear. Perhaps I should have.” She pursed her lips and looked away. “But the truth is I needed time to decide what Taki would want me to do. Can I offer you a drink, Reese?” she asked, moving toward a small bar in the corner.
“No, thank you.”
Victoria poured herself two inches of straight Bourbon. “I couldn’t reach Robin in Cassadaga until almost midnight, and after that it was much too late for telephone calls.”
“You called the psychic to find out what Taki would want you to do?” Reese stared at Victoria. No wonder Taki liked her so much. They thought exactly alike.
Mrs. Van Buren nodded and took a healthy swallow of whiskey.
“Exactly what did you need spiritual advice on?”
Victoria joined him on the sofa. “Whether to tell you anything. The last time I spoke to Taki she was—well, actually quite cross with you. I’m sorry to say she wants nothing more to do with you, Reese. That’s why I didn’t call you back.”
Reese shook his head. That explained Victoria’s obvious evasiveness. But because of her misplaced loyalty, Taki’s trail was at least twelve hours colder. He needed the lost time back.
“If that vintage Jeep didn’t break down, Taki is likely in North Carolina by now.” Victoria took another swig of liquor, then added, “She certainly won’t need her Miami clothing in the mountains.”
“Yesterday I might have agreed with your theory,” Reese said. “But she didn’t take the Jeep.”
“Of course she did.”
Reese took a deep breath. Javi was right. There was no easy way to say it. “Yesterday Miami-Dade police discovered Taki’s Jeep submerged in six feet of water.”
Victoria’s wrinkled face blanched. She placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, dear heaven.”
“We think her vehicle was pushed into a canal to hide it.”
“Poor Taki,” Victoria murmured.
“So you have no idea what might have happened to her?”
“None,” Victoria said, shaking her head. “Have you checked with the ashram?”
“I’m hoping to speak to her guru later tonight. You knew Taki was Kim Spencer, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Victoria averted her eyes and took another swallow of Bourbon. “She came to me for help, and I was happy to give her a place to live.”
“Is it possible that anyone else could have learned her identity?”
Victoria nodded and thought for a moment. “Well, of course you know that’s always possible. But Taki—Kim was very careful. I can’t imagine who would make that discovery. Or how.”
“All right.” Reese rose. He needed to keep looking for answers. He’d found nothing here. “Thanks for your help.”
Victoria placed a bony hand on his arm. “Please let me know as soon as you find her. Taki is like a daughter to me.”
* * *
TAKI FLEXED HER cramped fingers and refocused on the hinges of her prison’s door. More light would certainly help. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of Navi’s lessons for the hundredth time since beginning this project: Patience opens the door to opportunity.
Hoping patience would o
pen this particular door, she resumed gouging at paint and dirt with her makeshift screwdriver, created from a hinge off Reese’s briefcase. Fortunately, the door hinges were rusted and weak, but the built-up crud didn’t easily dislodge. And her improvised tool was difficult to manipulate. She had to go slowly or risk breaking the point.
She’d worked for hours and hours—she had no way to track the time, but knew it was night because light no longer filtered in around the door—and had managed to loosen the bottom two pins. Her fingertips were now raw and painful from the constant friction. The top hinge was harder to reach and the metal remained strong. Probably because less moisture reached it over the years.
Her plan was the dead bolt would hold the door in place when she finally worked the last pin loose. Then she’d pry open that side and squeeze through the opening. Shouldn’t be a problem since she’d probably lost five pounds. Burgers made her queasy, and that’s all they ever brought—although no one had delivered any food in a long while.
At any rate, this escape route had worked once before when she was fifteen and her father wouldn’t let her go to Rob Fulton’s surprise birthday party. She smiled bitterly as she recalled her father’s fury when he confronted her the next day.
She’d had a much better screwdriver then, of course. And several days to work at the pins. Had her father been angrier about the damage to the door or because she had thwarted his edicts?
The sound of a key entering the door’s lock froze Taki midscrape.
Surely the kidnappers weren’t bringing her dinner this late. They’d never come after dark before.
Terrified of her plans being ruined, she scurried to her customary spot on the floor directly in front of the stairs, arranging herself just as the door opened.
As usual, her tormentor waited on the top step. Sometimes it was Mayhugh; tonight it was Hector. Neither one would ever answer her questions, always refused to tell her what was going on. The night sky was a black hole behind him. She squinted, and thought she could see a few stars. What time was it?
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