From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two

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From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 30

by Amy Leigh Simpson


  Gone? As in …

  He couldn’t force himself to fill in the blanks. His mind shrunk back, retreated to someplace safe. Numb, but safe. The only thought he could muster was a cry from the depths of his soul.

  God, please.

  “—And Sal is fighting for his life! I need some answers. Get out here, now!”

  The door that now dumped Finn into a waking nightmare was the very point of inception for the promising evening.

  Crime scene precautions were in full orchestration, the bustle of activity had awakened the dank and sleepy alley. Spotlights from patrol cars and a nauseous rotation of reds and blues strobed out through the narrow space, casting long, dreary shadows in places of darkness.

  Scanning the figures in the crowd, Finn found the outline of a beast of a man towering over every other silhouette. Archer.

  From sheer determination of will, Finn managed to push past a protesting uniform setting up a perimeter to slide under the crime scene tape.

  “Archer,” Finn charged into the huddle with more confidence than he felt. The armor he’d rallied inside the hotel felt like shavings of chainmail shedding from his skin with each step toward the answers he needed but feared all the same.

  Continuing to bark orders, Archer held up his hand to Finn. “… all of these buildings searched. I want no stone left unturned, you copy? Someone had to have seen something, and since Sal’s vision was compromised we’ve got nothing on the vehicle. We’re pulling the feed from the traffic cams, but without any leads, we don’t know what we’re looking for.

  “This guy’s smart. And highly dangerous. These homemade flash grenades we found hidden near every entrance tell us we need to be on guard for anything. He was ready for us. And now, the only assurance we have that she is alive is that there’s no body. The clock is ticking. This is everyone’s first priority. Even the smallest blip, I want to be contacted immediately. You all have your orders. Go!”

  Archer whirred around, his dark eyes menacing. “What the hell happened? How’d you get sep—”

  “What do you mean gone?”

  A flicker of sympathy softened Archer’s hard glare. “Taken.”

  Taken. That one small word packed enough punch to level him. Keeping his legs steady enough to stand on was nothing short of a miracle. And the only reason he could rationalize that he was still breathing was because Joselyn wasn’t dead—though they couldn’t be sure of that without evidence.

  But something—maybe hope—dug its heels into Finn’s gut. Call it a premonition, or perhaps wishful thinking, but Finn could feel her heart beating as if he were still holding her in his arms.

  She’s alive. He knew it as sure as he knew he loved her.

  “Are you sure it’s her? It’s only been a couple of minutes. Maybe she’s headed home. I—”

  “We found her diamond earring right over there” Archer pointed. “About thirty feet further there is a trace amount of blood in the slush. We are waiting for confirmation that it’s Joselyn’s, but Sal’s word is enough for me.”

  “Sal? What did Sal say? And how could he not see anything? How could—” Finn’s mind raced ahead with too many questions. It was too much talk, too little action.

  “Sal found Joselyn in the alley. He was manning the truck when he noticed one of the guards walk out onto the street about a hundred yards east from his station. Called it in right after we were alerted to the breach on the inside, so all our men were covering the ballroom. Sal went to check out the unguarded entrance. It’s my understanding that that’s when Joselyn tumbled out.”

  Lowering his eyes, Archer shook his head. “Sal started losing consciousness again when he got to that part. The paramedics are taking him down the street to Barnes-Jewish Hospital. I’ve given strict orders for someone to call me as soon as he’s lucid again. Hopefully he’ll remember something.”

  Finn fought to tamp down the hysteria accelerating in his veins and ripping his heart to shreds. “God, we have to find her. Now. He’s gonna kill her.” He raked his fingernails into his scalp, pinched his eyes shut like it might all be a bad dream. “I messed up. It’s all my fault.”

  Archer took a step forward and lowered his voice. “Keep it together. We’re gonna find her. Now, go home, Finn. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Absolutely not. I can control myself. I want to help.” And like the flip of a switch, Finn sensed his composure click back into place. Felt that fireproof shield he’d once carried rise up and surround him. He might stumble his way through this transformation, but he wouldn’t rest until he got it right.

  Archer’s eyes burned into his, discerning Finn’s unwavering resolve. “Fine,” he growled. “You can come. But before you go off and do anything stupid …” He clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder and closed his eyes for a beat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Praying that agreeing to let you help wasn’t a giant mistake.”

  Finn shrugged off his hand. “Dude, if you’re gonna pray you better be aiming those favors at finding Joselyn.”

  “Already got it covered.”

  Chapter 42

  Joselyn Whyte

  You unravel me, with a melody

  A soft reassurance wove into Joselyn’s subconscious.

  You surround me with a song

  It sounded like a chorus of angels singing, the words latching deep into her heart. Like a song she didn’t know but had heard somewhere was tuned to a frequency in her head.

  Of deliverance, from my enemies, till all my fears are gone.

  The sweet sound unfurled some deep, abiding peace that was only counteracted by an interval of breath-stealing sharpness hammering nails into her temples.

  Something jarred her from the trance of the lullaby. She went airborne for a suspended moment, and then the music severed on the gasp that ripped from her lungs as her body crashed back down to earth.

  Her head landed with a thud. Pain exploded behind her eyes, and a spark of lightning fractured the darkness before it settled back to black with a blink.

  Her eyes were open, weren’t they? Why couldn’t she see anything?

  The vibration beneath her ceased for a moment and then changed pitch, rolling her body forward.

  Jerking her arms out was instinctual, but something pinched at her wrists. One arm was trapped beneath her, the other tethered to the first, leaving her helpless to brace for impact.

  She splayed her legs to impose some sense of stability, but it was too late. Her skull banked hard against the wall, a hot rush of pain tugged at her consciousness. Sedation fell over her like a smothering blanket.

  But then an engine revved, shocking her back to life when her heart mimicked the acceleration.

  An engine! The rumble that shook her body was mutually exclusive to the tremors of panic that rattled her bones.

  Her head hadn’t hit a wall. A trunk! She was in the trunk of a car—which explained why the scrap of wool exfoliating her face smelled like a sweaty gym bag.

  A slithering cold caressed her skin as it all came flooding back. The gala. Finn. The alley. The flash. The car. Sal.

  Oh, Sal! Joselyn felt a trickle of warmth crest her cheek and sting in her nose. Had he survived?

  Would she?

  The car slowed and started to veer. Joselyn was able to anticipate the tumble of her body and braced her legs against the far end of the dark, empty space.

  She strained to remember the last few minutes before blacking out. Had anyone seen her get taken? Did she even want to know where she was headed?

  And could she escape the clutches of death again without Finn protecting her?

  Finn. She allowed herself only a moment of reflection to review the highs and lows of the evening. Those perfect moments in his arms could nearly erase all the devastation he left in his wake. Almost.

  Man, she was a mess for that boy. A brainless, pathetic mess.

  Oh Lord, why him? Why do I love a man I shouldn’t? And how is it possible, after all the
ways he’s hurt me, that I still ache for him?

  Catching herself mid-prayer, Joselyn couldn’t shake the feeling that God was, in fact, listening. That maybe He did care. She’d spent the better part of her life hurt and bitter, blaming him for the cruel and unrelenting losses that robbed her of her family, her childhood, her innocence … But in spite of all that, for the first time in her life, here on this final ride, she’d reached a place of surrender. She finally felt worthy of love. Not because she’d earned her stripes, but because of the one who had taken them for her.

  The car pulled hard to the right and caught her off guard. Forcing her onto her back, the pin turn shoved her head toward the side, but since her arms, while still bound at the wrist, were now free from the trappings of her body, she managed to shield her skull from another hard blow.

  Slowing on what she gathered was a gravel road, the spitting clank of rocks shot up and pelted the underside of the car.

  A gulp of air turned sour in her stomach.

  They were almost there–wherever her final destination would be. Full-blown hysteria was ready to pounce, and she could feel the terror tightening its binds to render her defenseless against the predator.

  There was nothing to be seen in the dark, so she closed her eyes.

  She could see … her mother. Clear as the crystalline blue of her irises. With an easy smile, and a light of glory in her eyes, Joselyn could sense her complete joy. She felt herself reach out, but her mother was vanishing, flecks of light and color scattering like ants.

  Her breathing shuddered and then eased, filling her lungs with strength. There was nothing but darkness, but Joselyn felt enlightened and ready to claim her life. Maybe she was meant for more than mourning. More than merely surviving. Seeing that vision of her mother, she knew it was time to let the ghosts of the past rest and really live.

  Not real great timing for that particular revelation, but she still had a chance.

  A hasty minute later she had formulated the only semblance of a plan she could think of. Coiling up into a ball, she lifted the fabric of her dress and untangled her legs. Poised and ready to strike, she closed her eyes, and lay as still and lifeless as she could manage.

  The barrage of kicked up stones made a marked decrease in frequency. The gentle whine of the brakes squealed what sounded like an inch below her ear.

  This is it.

  Her heart rate hitched up a notch, but she combated the assuaging panic with unuttered prayers and a final deep breath as the slam of the driver’s side door signaled the end of the ride. The haunting crunch of the gravel planted images of charred and crushed bones beneath the murderer’s feet.

  Her lungs constricted, battening down for the storm, as if the last moments of safety afforded by the sealed walls of the trunk were winding down to zero.

  Fear not for I am with you …

  At that moment, the first verse she’d read from Sadie’s Bible dangled like a lifeline, the words grabbing on before the terror could pull her under.

  The slipping sound of fitting metal sheared at the lock, and the door lifted away.

  Still as death, Joselyn didn’t dare open her eyes and lose her only advantage of surprise. One second of distraction could be the difference between life and death.

  She could hear nothing but the muted breaths of her attacker, but it was enough to approximate a location.

  Please, God. Let this work.

  Allowing only a moment to distract him with the indecently exposed length of her leg to the scant fabric of her panties, she cracked her eyes and locked on to her target as he bent forward.

  Now! Joselyn snapped her leg like a striking cobra. Those kick-boxing classes had been worth their weight in peanut butter M&M’s.

  The kick caught him by surprise, but he managed to rear back, her foot only glancing off his chin. But her heel did manage to clip his neck. From the croaking sound that escaped the man, his windpipe.

  Throwing her legs over the lip of the trunk, Joselyn’s feet slammed down on a tundra of rocks. She bit back a gasp.

  Clutching the hem of her dress in one hand, she grasped the wheezing man’s shoulder and jerked him toward the thrust of her knee.

  He wailed his distress and cupped his groin.

  Joselyn dropped her skirt, gripped the man’s coat front with both hands and yanked his face down toward the open truck. She shoved against his backside, trying to force him in and feel for his keys at the same time.

  Come on! Grinding her teeth, she grunted, hefting the enormous man with all of her might, and then some.

  Only problem was, he didn’t fit.

  The compact trunk space of the old blue Civic would not accommodate his bulky frame.

  Hope slipped loose like a tendril of her hair on the wayward wind. The sound of their struggle like reverb intruding upon the crisp winter silence.

  Her attacker tried to jerk back, but she saw it coming and slammed the trunk atop his head, momentarily collapsing him back down. Her mind washed of any reasonable defense.

  Without knowing any other course of action Joselyn slammed the door down once, twice, three times more to buy some time and ran.

  The frozen stones, seemingly sharpened to arrowheads, cut into her tender feet. Tearing at the flesh, her feet grew slick with each agonizing step, the shooting pain catapulted up her legs and weakened her knees.

  Scanning the long, deserted drive, Joselyn’s heart collapsed. There was nowhere to run. No one would see her. Or hear her.

  She forged on, racing toward the cover of trees that never seemed to get any closer.

  Her breaths came heavy, and through the huff of white air and the sorrow spilling from her eyes mourning her wasted life, she saw only a tiny peek of the waning moon—a reminder of hope pouring out over the bleak and sinister night.

  Joselyn felt her pursuer more than heard him. The crunching rocks should have given it away, but the adrenaline pounding in her ears drowned out all other noise.

  It told her all she needed to know. Her heart was still beating. That meant, if only for the moment, she was still alive.

  Chapter 43

  Finn Carson

  “That stupid jerk! No one stands up Missy Rollins! Wait until that little twerp sees what I write on Facebook, he’ll be ruined.”

  The artificial redheaded basket case couldn’t seem to stay on point. Finn was more than tempted to slap her.

  Thankfully Archer intervened. “Miss Rollins, we know you’re upset about your date, but this is important. After you saw the flash of light from your window you said you saw a car.”

  Missy nodded, and as if suddenly aware of her male company, she adjusted her top and smoothed a hand over her hair before pulling out a flirtatious smile.

  Finn’s hand twitched. Lord, help him, he would not strike a woman.

  “Yeah, I saw a navy blue car. Not sure what kind. I only saw it from the top when I was checking my window for Lance. That pig!” She snarled. “I mean. My date. Just my date, not my boyfriend or anything.” The phony smile was back. “I’m single.” Her lashes batted.

  Was that Archer’s teeth grinding or Finn’s?

  “Even if you can’t give us make or model, what about size. Midsize sedan, coupe? Anything you remember would be helpful.”

  The aloof witness smacked her gum and gave a poor imitation of a thoughtful pose. “I think it was small, Agent Hayes. Yes, definitely small. Like a little two-door. And it looked like the paint was peeling off the roof because there was like some silver and rusty metal showing through.”

  There was a knock at the door, and the uniform that caught the lead went to answer. When the door swung open it revealed a spiffed up meathead with a quizzical brow and a bouquet of pink roses.

  “Uh … Hi, Officer.” The guy’s gulp was loud enough to hear from across the room. “I’m here for my date with Missy, sir.”

  “Lance!” The flighty redhead must have forgotten her peeve and rushed to the door to receive her bounty.

&
nbsp; “Sorry I’m late. I was only running a few minutes behind, but then the cops wouldn’t let me in.” Looking as nervous as a schoolboy, Lance woodenly thrust out the flowers. “Here. I got you flowers.”

  Flowers. Flowers. Something wormed around in Finn’s brain. Something other than the scent of fresh cut blooms and first date awkwardness.

  “Flowers!” Finn blurted as the first tentative pieces clicked together.

  Archer turned, his eyes narrowed from the strange outburst. “What about ’em?”

  “Joselyn kept saying something about the flowers and how she thought they’d come from her dad. Something about white lilies is significant.” And something was warning him not to shrug off his hunch that the flowers were somehow linked to Joselyn’s father. He looked to Archer to produce some sort of a connection, and bless Archer for his discernment, he went with it.

  They bolted from Missy Rollins’s loft with the lovely view of the alley and went to facedown the bulldog himself.

  “Well, what’s he saying?” Finn fidgeted in the passenger seat of Archer’s Suburban. His anxiety manifesting in a manic restlessness that had him uncrossing and recrossing his legs and arms more than a dozen times during the maybe three-minute phone call between Archer and Declan Whyte.

  Archer held up a finger. “Umm-hmm. I understand that, sir, but I’ll decide what is and isn’t relevant at this point.”

  Come on! Come on!

  “Mr. Whyte, we will keep you apprised. But if you ever interfere with an FBI investigation again I’ll charge you with obstruction of justice, are we clear?”

  Dang.

  While the anticipation was excruciating, Finn had to admit he felt a smidgen of satisfaction that someone had put the mighty Declan Whyte in his place.

  “We’ll be in touch.” Archer signed off. Heaving out a burdened breath, he stalled one second too long for Finn’s liking.

 

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