Formula for Danger (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Camy Tang

  “Tall?” The manager looked confused. “We only have one tall waiter.” He pointed to a thin, gangly young man with a shocking crop of red curls.

  “No, the busboy was…big.” Bigger than that man.

  Big like the man who had attacked Edward in the parking lot that night?

  Who had brought her the tea? Had they been trying to kill her?

  And would they kill Edward now instead?

  God was so much bigger than she’d ever conceived. And yet He’d been there for her.

  And for Edward.

  She knew He would continue to be there for her, even though the threat against her was getting worse and impacting the people she loved.

  She trusted God, but she also wasn’t being stupid and taking unnecessary chances—she sat in the hospital waiting room in full view of the nurses’ station, and she had made sure they all knew she was waiting for news about Edward and for his family and hers to arrive.

  She didn’t like the sheer number of people bustling around the waiting area, but she still felt the vestiges of uneasiness about being alone out in the open—remnants of the pursuit from this afternoon. So the press of the crowd in the hospital didn’t unnerve her the way it normally would.

  But she stayed alert, on edge. Until someone she trusted came to be with her, she felt exposed and vulnerable without Edward near her.

  Her raw nerves made her jittery, so she sat in the stiff plastic chair and tried to calm herself with prayer, clenching her hands together so tightly that the marquise-cut ruby ring made an indentation in her skin. The words had a hard time coming.

  How was Edward doing? The paramedic had told her that he thought Edward had been poisoned, but that since it appeared he didn’t drink much of the tea, his symptoms were relatively minor. He’d done what he could. Someone had apparently called the ambulance—one that was on call—which had arrived only minutes later to whisk Edward and her to the hospital. The off-duty paramedic had ridden to the hospital with Rachel and told her that the doctors would have more information once they examined and treated him. Since arriving, she hadn’t seen the paramedic or Edward.

  The paramedic’s reassurances prevented her from being as crazed with worry as she would have been right now, but she still wanted news of him.

  And yet, God had taken care of him. What were the odds that a paramedic would have been at that restaurant, just off his shift, and still having all his gear with him? Those first few minutes when the paramedic had worked on Edward might have saved his life.

  God had saved his life.

  Thank You, God.

  She had to trust that God would still have control over everything now.

  She remembered the stars she saw with Alex and Edward the other night. God had revealed His character to her that night, and ever since.

  Now she had to show Him who she was—if she was going to trust in what He showed her or not.

  The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.

  Everything—including Edward. Including her relationship with her father. Including her product launch. Including her life.

  Lord, everything in my life is Yours. Everything.

  It was as if chains had been wrapped around her shoulders, around her heart, and they were suddenly lifted away. God was all she needed to trust in. He was all she would ever need.

  Lord, You are everything.

  It would all be okay.

  “Rachel.”

  Detective Carter’s concerned voice cut through her thoughts and prayers, and she leaped to her feet. He strode through the waiting room crowd, his demeanor exuding enough authority to make people give way for him, and yet his eyes on her were filled with kindness.

  “How are you doing?” he said, his hand briefly touching her elbow.

  “I’m fine.” She could barely get the words out. She was so relieved to see him. “You got here fast.”

  “I left the station as soon as I got your phone call. How’s Edward?”

  “I don’t know yet. The doctors haven’t talked to me. The paramedic said he thinks Edward will be okay because he didn’t drink much of the poison.”

  His brow furrowed. “Yes, on the phone you mentioned something about tea?”

  She stifled the sob that rose in her throat. “He drank some tea that I had ordered, that was meant for me.”

  “You didn’t drink any of it?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me everything.” He took out his notebook and wrote as she recounted what happened. “And you haven’t heard from any of the doctors yet about Edward?” he asked as he closed his notebook.

  “No.”

  “Wait here.” He walked a few steps to talk to the nurses at the station, and one left through the double doors into the hospital. “I asked them to get a doctor,” he told Rachel when he came back to her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you call Edward’s family?”

  “Yes. I called mine, too.”

  “I’ll stay with you until they get here. It’s not safe for you to be here alone,” he added, with a discreet glance around the waiting area as he took the seat next to hers.

  She gave him a grateful smile as she sat back down again. His stalwart presence helped her lungs relax so she could breathe easier. “I thought that the other man would lay low for a while after you arrested his partner—what’s his name—Randy?”

  Detective Carter nodded.

  “Has he said anything about who hired him?”

  The detective shook his head. “Not yet. But don’t worry, Rachel.” He gave her a comforting smile. “He will. I’ll make sure of it.” His promise, given in his gravelly voice, held a ring of determination.

  “Maybe the other man will stop trying to get to me once Randy talks.” She had to remain positive about this or she might start screaming in the middle of the waiting room.

  “I will find the people responsible for all this,” Detective Carter told her. “You can trust me to not rest until I find them.”

  “Did you already talk to the people at the restaurant?”

  He nodded. “Briefly. I stopped there before I came here to find you. I have other officers still there taking statements.” Suddenly, his cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  At the same moment, a male nurse in scrubs came to ward the two of them. “You’re here waiting to see Edward Villa?”

  “Yes.” Rachel shot to her feet. “Is he okay?”

  “The doctor is with him now, but he says you can come into his room to see him.”

  Rachel looked to Detective Carter. The phone call had propelled him to his feet and given alertness to his face and his voice. “Yes, put him through.” He then nodded to Rachel. “Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Rachel followed the nurse through the doors. A couple of male nurses had helped bring Edward into the hospital, and she remembered the emergency-room doctor who had met them, a young Indian man.

  This nurse looked familiar, and yet…she couldn’t quite place him among all the people she’d seen upon arriving here.

  They passed through the double doors, with Detective Carter still in the waiting area although slowly following them as he talked on his cell phone.

  And then, a few feet down the busy hospital hallway, she remembered where she’d seen the man.

  In a dark restaurant parking lot, struggling with Edward.

  She stumbled and groped at the wall. She had no air in her lungs to scream. Spinning around, she tried to rush back toward the doors.

  A beefy arm gripped her around the waist, pinning one of her arms to her side, but she wriggled the other one loose. He overshadowed her, blocking her view of the other people rushing around the hallway, and blocking their view as he clapped a cloth over her nose and mouth.

  “Miss, are you all right?” he said in questioning tones, belying his menacing grip over her mouth.

  Her vision spun. She clawed at his arm around her, but he wouldn’t let go. In the distance, she heard his
mock-concerned voice, “Miss? What’s wrong?” for the benefit of the other nurses and doctors around them.

  Surely someone would notice what he was doing. Surely someone…

  And then everything went black.

  SEVENTEEN

  Rachel awoke slowly to a headache pounding painfully against her forehead. To the muffled sound of a deep voice in the distance. To the smell of stagnant water, drowned weeds, rotting insects.

  She cracked her eyes open, but the light blinded her and stabbed painfully into her skull. She wanted to just sit here and wait for the headache to recede.

  Then she remembered. The man. The cloth over her mouth. Edward.

  She forced her eyes open, her brain screaming at the pain of the light piercing her eyeballs. Then her vision came into focus, and she started to feel her limbs.

  She sat in a car. In the driver’s seat. Her hands duct-taped to the steering wheel. Duct tape over her mouth.

  It was still nighttime, and the car was parked facing a pond, tilted down the sloping bank so that the light from the headlights reflected off the dirty water.

  She knew this place. It was old Mr. Rivers’s farm, just off the highway. Run-down, a constant topic of debate among his neighbors who objected to the eyesore sitting smack-dab in the middle of their well-tended vineyards and fields. The rank smell from the large pond on his property made the tourists shorten their wine tasting visits at the vineyards next door and not return.

  The pond was deep. No one came near because of the smell.

  She’d drown here and no one would find her body.

  No! She had to stay calm. She had to find a way out of this.

  How? There was duct tape wrapped around the steering wheel, her wrists and up her hands, partially covering her knuckles, immobilizing her arms. How was she supposed to escape from this?

  Her breathing came in short gasps. Her vision began to cloud.

  No, she couldn’t pass out now. She had to calm down. Breathe. Breathe. Think.

  God was with her.

  God, help me….

  Movement at the corner of her eye. She glanced up into the rearview mirror and saw dimly the edge of a man’s head in the darkness. She slowly adjusted her head and her field of vision to see him better.

  The man from the parking lot, the male nurse at the hospital, stood several yards behind the car, talking on his cell phone. Then, still talking, he began to walk along the side of the car toward the driver’s side window.

  She shut her eyes and tried to relax her face. She sagged against the seat belt and the duct tape, hoping to look like deadweight and still unconscious.

  “Yeah, she’s still out.”

  Then, she heard the person he was talking to—a female speaking loud enough that her voice carried through the ear-piece of the phone for Rachel to barely make it out in the quiet, but not enough to distinguish what she was saying.

  While he was listening, she heard him rustle in his jacket pocket. She barely cracked an eye and saw he was in her field of vision but partially turned away from her.

  Then he did something curious—he removed another cell phone from his pocket and tossed it into the weeds at the edge of the pond, along with another small object—she thought it might have been the phone’s battery, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He turned and walked back up the bank of the pond, away from the car.

  She tugged at her hands, hoping the duct tape was loose or could be loosened, but it held her fast. Think. Think.

  She cast a glance around the car, squinting in the dim light. Next to her on the passenger seat was her purse. She had her cell phone inside, her house keys…but she couldn’t reach any of it.

  She twisted her hands, hoping the torque would free her. The edges of the tape cut into her skin, leaving a thin red line of blood.

  But the tape didn’t shift.

  Then the first rays of the morning sun cleared the horizon in the distance, gilding the steering wheel. She had been out for longer than she thought if it was already dawn.

  And something glittered.

  The gold of the ring her father had given her. It had shifted so that the ruby faced her palm, and the man had forgotten to remove it.

  She worked her thumb—it was loose. She arced her fingers away from the steering wheel so she could work her thumb over the ruby and rotate the ring on her finger. Just a few centimeters more…

  The marquis-cut ruby cleared her fingers and was now exposed.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. Illuminated in the small taillights on the car, the man’s back was still toward her.

  She leaned forward and tried to use the edge of the ruby to puncture the duct tape over her lips. If she could free her mouth…

  A soft tear. Quiet ripping. She worked the ring over the tape until she could open her mouth and use her teeth.

  She leaned farther forward and attacked the duct tape on her hands. She often used duct tape in the lab to tie together hoses or flasks, and while she knew her dentist hated it, she usually used her teeth to tear off pieces.

  The tape was wrapped around her hand several times, so she worked each layer, tugging, shredding, pulling with her teeth as a long jagged line began to form down the duct tape.

  And then one hand was free.

  The man’s voice started to get louder. “Okay, fine.” The click of him closing his cell phone.

  She darted a look at the rearview mirror and saw him approaching the car.

  Oh, no! Would he see the torn tape on her hand, her mouth? She repositioned her hand on the steering wheel and turned her head slightly away from the window. Hopefully he wouldn’t look too closely.

  But he didn’t even approach the driver’s side of the car. Instead, the car rocked forward—one, two, three times, each movement more forceful.

  On the fourth time, she heard him grunt at the back of his throat, and the car slowly rolled forward.

  The car hit resistance when the water sloshed against the front end, but the slope of the bank, the car’s momentum and the man’s persistent strength pushed the car forward, inch by inch.

  It took all her strength to remain motionless as the man continued to push at the car. Her nerves were shrieking at her to do something as rivulets of water punctured the edge of the car door and soaked the floor. She swallowed a scream as she saw the water of the pond rise up on the outside of the car door until it reached the bottom of the open window and spilled over into her lap. She gagged. It smelled like dead frogs.

  If she didn’t keep her head, she would be dead.

  The man sloshed through the water as he pushed the car deeper into the pond. Finally, he gave one last huge shove.

  She frantically watched the rearview mirror. The man stood knee-deep in water, watching the car sink. If he saw that she was now awake, he gave no sign.

  He turned and splashed out of the water, back onto the bank.

  Rachel jerked her body forward and started tearing at the duct tape on her other hand with her teeth and her freed hand. She tasted the pond water but her panic kept her doggedly working. She wasn’t completely helpless—she already had one hand loose. She had to survive.

  The water climbed up her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept working. The tape was tearing in short pieces. She twisted her hand, and the water added lubrication. The level rose above her ears, and she only heard the dark silence of the water.

  And then another inch of duct tape ripped and she could pull her hand free. She shoved her head upward and found a slim crack of air between the ceiling and the surface, rapidly shrinking. She took a deep breath, then went under again.

  She fumbled with her seat belt, clicked it. Nothing. She clicked it again and again.

  Please, God.

  The seat belt unlatched.

  Cell phone.

  The thought came out of nowhere, but she cracked her eyes open under the murky water and fumbled on the passenger seat for her purse.

  There was noth
ing on the seat.

  She bent and dived her hand down to the floor, sweeping the carpet—there. She ripped the bag open and dug through until her fingers touched the rubbery outside of her phone.

  She untangled her hand from the bag and twisted to grab the edge of the open window. She looked upward and saw the lightening sky through the water. She wasn’t far from the surface.

  Was the man watching the car sink?

  She pulled herself through the water out of the car, careful not to break the surface, hoping the green water hid the sight of her escaping. She spun in the water and dived deeper, but away from the car, away from the bank where the man might still be standing.

  Her lungs were painfully tight in her chest, but she kept swimming, her hand locked around her cell phone. She skimmed over weeds near the bottom of the pond which might trap her.

  And then she felt sloping slime, and followed it upward, pulling her body along. The water seemed darker here on this side of the pond.

  She tried not to break the surface too quickly, but her aching lungs made her gasp softly as her mouth cleared the water. She turned to look back.

  The dropping branches of a tree filled her vision—a tree growing near the bank had tilted, and its dead branches with a few clinging leaves draped over the water, partially obscuring her from view. She shifted to see around the branches toward the opposite bank.

  The man was walking across the field toward where she knew the highway lay. Possibly to be picked up there by the woman he’d been talking to.

  He didn’t know she’d escaped. He didn’t know she was alive.

  Until today, Rachel had never before been thankful that she was a klutz. But if she hadn’t already destroyed two other cell phones by spilling chemicals on them in the lab or answering them before taking off her gloves, then a few months ago she would never have gotten the latest super-rugged cell phone, which also happened to be waterproof.

  She shivered while sitting on the sodden bank under the tilting tree and flipped open her phone. It lit up. Thank You, God. She dialed.

  “Rachel!” Detective Carter practically shouted into the phone. “Are you all right?”