“You’re meeting in a public place, right?” Emily said.
“Yeah, The Cog.”
“It’ll still be light outside.”
“We’re meeting at six, so yeah,” Casey said, struggling to keep her frustration out of her voice. Hey, Emily cared about what happened to her. That was good.
“All right. I guess you’ve got it all covered. You’ll have to tell me all about it afterward.”
“I will.” Casey said, marvelling at how great it felt to know that Emily was interested in her work. Her heart pounded when Emily slipped her arm through hers and leaned into her as they continued to stroll. Emily had no need to worry about Casey’s meeting with Mike, because Casey had no intention of getting hurt. She had a girlfriend, you know. Nothing would stand between her and seeing Emily again.
*****
Casey tried not to fidget as the technician prepared her for the meeting with Mike. “We’re done,” the technician said, stepping back. She waited as Casey carefully slipped back into her blouse and threw on her hoodie, then motioned for Casey to follow her from the bedroom.
“Ready?” Steve said when they entered the living room in the house on Fields Avenue.
The technician jutted her chin toward a man wearing a headset and holding a receiver. “Say something,” he growled.
Casey cleared her throat. “Uh, hello. Testing.”
He flashed a thumbs-up. Jackie leapt up from her spot on the sofa. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I might go home tonight.”
Yeah, no pressure or anything. Casey didn’t know who she’d piss off more if she screwed up: Jackie, or Steve.
“Remember, we only need him to incriminate himself for tampering with the food, or bribing the doctor, or spying for the competition. We don’t need all three,” Steve said.
Right. “What should I do if he makes me?” Casey asked.
“If he catches on, or you’re worried about your safety in any way, say, ‘It’s hot in here.’”
“It’s hot in here? Isn’t that kind of lame? What if it’s not hot? What if the air conditioning is going full blast and everyone’s shivering? What if it is hot and I accidentally say it’s hot?” Since she knew she shouldn’t say the phrase, it would keep popping into her mind.
Steve frowned. “It has to be something innocuous that you can drop into the conversation at any time. Even if it’s freezing, you can say it. Mike will think you’re weird, that’s all.”
“If I say it, you’ll come into the restaurant, right?”
“A couple of agents will already be inside, and we’ll be right around the corner, under a minute away.” He turned to the technician in the headset. “It’s time to get this show on the road.”
Chapter Thirteen
The van carrying Casey and the agents pulled over on a street a couple of blocks away from the restaurant. Casey rolled her bike from the back of the van and turned to Steve. “Is this thing still working?”
“Stop looking down at it,” Steve snapped.
“Sorry.”
“Don can hear you,” he said, looking past her, then he glanced at his watch. “You’d better get going. Good luck.”
She smiled weakly and mounted her bike. Unfortunately, in all the fuss she’d forgotten her helmet at the house, but the restaurant was only a short ride away. She’d insisted on using her wheels, so she could quickly escape if she spotted anything suspicious when she arrived. Yep, the more backup plans, the better. Case in point: as soon as she turned the corner, she braked and slipped her phone from her pocket, brought up her contacts, selected Walker’s number, and slid the phone into her hoodie’s pocket, ready to use. Now Detective Walker was only a button press away. All Casey would have to do was slide her hand into her pocket, feel around, and hope she didn’t inadvertently change the contact to someone else, like Gran. Despite her nerves, she smiled, imagining Gran bellowing into the phone at home—which would probably be bad for Casey, since the entire restaurant would hear her, including Mike.
Her stomach churned. Relax. They’d worked out what she’d say to Mike that might provoke him into incriminating himself. Over a nice dinner, she’d bore him by telling him all sorts of irrelevant information she’d uncovered, then go for the jugular when his eyelids were sagging. What could go wrong?
Mike not showing up, for one thing. After locking her bike, she strode into the restaurant, expecting him to be waiting for her. But he wasn’t there, and a scan of the main dining room came up empty. Nobody matched Mike’s photo. There were supposedly two agents here, but Casey couldn’t pick them out. Was it the man and woman chatting over a pizza? The two men ignoring each other as they texted on their phones?
A woman hugging a stack of menus to her chest beamed at Casey. “Can I help you?”
“I’m meeting someone, but I don’t see him. He might be in the other dining room.”
The woman shook her head. “We haven’t opened it yet. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yeah. Mike Hargrave.”
She checked the book. “He hasn’t arrived yet. Have a seat.” She swept her free arm toward a cushioned bench and winked. “Don’t worry. He’ll be here.”
He’d better be. Should she try to murmur surreptitiously that Mike hadn’t arrived? No, they’d gather that from her conversation with the greeter. Forget the wire, already. Damn, she hated waiting. More time to think about what could go wrong. It’s hot in here. No! Well, yeah, it was a little warm, but no!
She twisted to look out the window. Shit, there he was, strolling toward the entrance. Casey stood, then sat, not wanting to appear eager. She watched as he approached the Wait Here to Be Seated sign, then counted to five, rose, and said, “Mike Hargrave?”
He spun around.
“Casey Cook.” Hoping to exude confidence, she stepped toward him and held out her hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Casey.”
The greeter reappeared. “This way.” She led them to a table in the middle of the dining room and set two menus down.
“Can we have one near a window?” Mike asked.
“Sure,” she chirped, picking up the menus. “This way.”
“Thank you,” Mike said as he slid into the window booth.
“No problem.” As the greeter turned to walk away, she raised her brows at Casey.
Oh, please. Mike was old enough to be her father.
“So you said you know where Jackie is,” Mike said.
Wow, he wasn’t wasting any time. “I know how to get to her.”
Mike’s brow furrowed. Good, she’d meant it to be cryptic. “To explain what I mean, I’ll have to tell you how I found her. Let’s wait until we have our food, so we won’t be interrupted.”
He didn’t protest. They studied their menus. When the waitress came over to see what they wanted to drink, they told her they were ready to order. Then they made awkward small talk until the waitress had placed their pasta dinners in front of them, made sure they had everything they needed, and left.
Mike lifted his fork. “So how’d you find Jackie?”
In painstaking detail, Casey told him how she’d located Jackie, a mixture of truth and fabrication. She could tell that Mike was busting for her to get to the point, but he didn’t hurry her along. He didn’t ask any questions, either. He was interested in only one thing, and as she swallowed her last noodle and placed her knife and fork on her empty plate, she finally got to it.
“So I met my contact, and he had an interesting story to tell. About you.” She let that sink in, though Mike remained expressionless. “He said you put Jackie into a coma.” No reaction. This wasn’t going as Casey expected. “He showed me a photo of Jackie. He definitely has her. He said either you cut him in on the action, or he’ll kill her and make sure the trail leads to you.” Mike didn’t even twitch. Jesus, was he unflappable? “I figured, why not me, too? I’m sure your offer will be more generous than Ellen Myers’ payments.”
Mike straightened. “You’re blackmailing me?”
“I see it more as joining your team and staying silent out of loyalty.”
He stared at her.
“If you’re not interested, no problem. I’ll turn my information over to the police.”
Mike tugged at his shirt collar. “It’s hot in here.”
It’s hot in here? It’s hot in here? She hoped her panic didn’t show on her face. There was no way he could be wired, was there? No, no, what were the chances he was wired and had the same SOS phrase? God, she’d known it was too generic, and now desperately hoped that Steve’s agents wouldn’t come leaping over tables and interrupt just as Mike was starting to sweat. They knew she had to say it, right? “I’m not hot,” she said loudly and clearly.
“I am.”
Casey sensed someone behind her. She twisted to look. Great. The two men she’d seen texting were standing at her elbow. Stupid. You were supposed to wait for me to say it!
One gazed down at her. “On your feet, Cook. You’re coming with us.”
The other one looked over her head. “Pay the bill and meet us outside,” he said to Mike.
What?
“Come on, on your feet,” the beefier one said.
Confused, Casey stood. Was this Steve’s way of extricating her from the situation?
“Walk casually, Cook, or I’ll break your legs.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, her mind racing. Mike was no longer within earshot. They had no reason to put on an act. These weren’t Steve’s men, they were Mike’s! “You know, Mike was just saying how hot it is in here,” she said, walking as slowly as she could. “I agree. It’s hot in here. Really hot. Hot, hot, hot. I’m burning up here. I feel like flames are shooting from the top of my head.”
“Shut up and keep walking.”
Shit! She frantically searched for someone, anyone, who was rising from a table and heading in her direction, but everyone was eating and chatting. Where the hell were they? Wait. Was Steve actually working for Mike, this was some type of double-cross deal, and the agents were Mike’s all along? Probably not, but screw Steve. She had stuff to look forward to! It was time for Plan B. As they approached the exit, she reached into her hoodie pocket and hoped she was pressing the right button. What if she got Walker’s voicemail? What if Walker couldn’t hear what was going on? Casey would have to assume that she’d answered and was listening.
“Dragging me from The Cog and kidnapping me isn’t a good idea,” she said as she stood outside the restaurant, flanked by the two men. She could make a run for it, and maybe make it around five feet before they were on top of her and her face hit the pavement. “I told the police I’d be here. They know I found Jackie Rose and you’re in on it. As I said, not a good idea to take me from…The Cog…in broad daylight.”
“Shut up,” Beefy growled. A van pulled up. Great, another van. She was starting to hate vans, though she’d really love to see Steve’s van right now. Around the corner, my ass. Was something wrong with her wire? Beefy yanked open the van’s rear door. “Get in,” he growled.
“I’ve always wanted a…white Ford van,” Casey said as they hustled her inside. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in a position to glimpse the licence plate number.
Mike joined them and pulled the door shut. “Tie her hands—and her feet.”
“You’re crazy…Mike,” she said as beefy complied. “You really think you’ll get away with this?”
“The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth is where Jackie is.”
“I don’t have her exact location. I’ll have to call my contact.”
His face reddened and he lunged toward her. “Bullshit! You tell me where Jackie is right now, or I’ll make you disappear, too.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, realizing that making them think about phones wasn’t a good idea. Forget about giving them the Fields Avenue address. She’d protect Jackie and do what she could to save herself. “She’s on a farm in the Valley Ridge area.”
“What highway?”
“Uh…twelve.”
“Go,” Mike barked to the driver. He turned his cold eyes back to Casey. “If you’re lying, you’ll regret it.”
She was hoping that someone would come to her rescue during the hour drive. Please, please, let Walker be overhearing everything.
The van pulled away and accelerated through the parking lot, tires squealing. Then it screeched to a halt, flinging Casey and everyone else toward the front of the van. If this was a movie, she’d make her move, but in the movies they didn’t fall on their asses and roll around helplessly. Plus, they’d already have secretly untied their hands and feet by now, and probably weren’t wincing in pain because a phone had dug into their ribs.
“What the hell’s going on?” Mike said when the van remained stationary.
“Some crazy chick just drove right in front of me and stopped.” The driver leaned on the horn and rolled down the window. “Hey, you! Get out of the way, you stupid moron. What do you think you’re doing? Move! Now! Oh, shit.”
Mike’s face tightened. “What?”
A siren—it sounded like several, actually—answered the question for everyone. Casey’s captors glanced wildly at each other.
“Drive!” Mike shouted.
“I can’t. That stupid car’s blocking my way.”
Mike blanched. “Run!”
Beefy almost trampled Casey when he charged from the van. Mike and the other man leapt out. The driver’s door slammed shut. Still lying on her side, Casey lifted her head, then sat up. “Hello?” She tried to stand, but her bound feet hindered her. “I’m tied up, here. Anyone? Steve? You there?”
Shouts, then a bang, too loud to be a gunshot. “He ran that way,” someone yelled.
“Hello? I’m in here! Tied up!” She tried inching toward the partially open rear doors, but her progress was slow. One of the doors suddenly swung fully open. Good, the cops were finally checking the van. Casey gaped when Emily clambered aboard.
Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, are you all right?”
“You’re the crazy chick?” Casey sputtered, wondering if she’d hit her head on the way down and was hallucinating.
“Let me untie you.”
Casey bit her tongue as Emily freed her, then jumped to her feet, anger conquering her surprise and gratitude. “What are you doing here?”
“I decided to back you up.”
“I didn’t need backup. I had everything under control.”
Emily quirked a brow at the rope lying at her feet.
“I called the cops. I was fine. I didn’t need rescuing, thank you very much.”
“I didn’t interfere until I saw you leaving the restaurant with men who looked shifty.” Emily folded her arms. “When they forced you into the van, I did what I thought was best.”
“You shouldn’t even be here!” Casey slapped her thighs. “What’s everyone going to think?”
“That you found your missing person and courageously offered to help another investigation. You closed your case.”
“Yeah, and that my girlfriend thinks I can’t take care of myself.”
Emily’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Your girlfriend, eh?”
“Emily!” Casey wanted to…hug her.
“Look, I was worried about you, okay? All I intended to do was sit in my car and go home when I saw you leave. That’s all.”
But then she’d witnessed a kidnapping in progress and thwarted it. How the hell could Casey be mad at her? Thanks to Emily, only her pride was wounded. It could have been worse. Hadn’t she hoped someone would rescue her?
“I thought you said agents would be listening in.”
“I don’t know what happened to them. They were supposed—”
“Don’t move!”
They both turned toward the voice. Casey shrank back at the sight of the cop pointing a gun at them. “Hey, I’m the victim here.”
“I’m the driver of the car that stopped the van,” Emily said, slowly raising her hands.
He squinted at them. “We’ll sort it all out down at the station.”
“What?” they said in unison.
“Come on, ladies. I won’t ask again.”
After glancing at Emily, Casey hopped off the van and surveyed the chaos. She counted four cop cars, their lights still flashing. Mike, beefy, and her third captor were in cuffs. “I don’t see the driver of the van,” she said to the cop, who’d holstered his gun, apparently deciding they weren’t a threat.
“He’s over there.” The cop jutted his chin toward a man sitting on the ground, rubbing his knee. Two cops stood over him. “Lucky guy. He would have been more than nicked if our car hadn’t swerved in time. Luckily for him, the car hit the bike rack instead.”
“What?” Casey now spotted a fifth police car—and the totalled rack.
“Fortunately, there was only one bike in it.”
“Yeah, my bike!”
The cop clucked his tongue sympathetically. “It was your bike.”
Casey groaned.
“Come on, I’ll put you in a car until the detective gets here.”
“I’ve always wanted to sit in a police car,” Emily murmured. As soon as the cop slammed the door shut and walked away, she turned to Casey. “Sorry about your bike. But I’m not sorry I came. If I hadn’t, who knows what would have happened?”
“You could have been hurt, too,” Casey said, not quite ready to forgive all. “What if the van hadn’t stopped? What if he’d smashed right into you?”
Emily’s mouth pressed into a stubborn line. “All I cared about was stopping them. I wasn’t going to let them take you.”
Casey tenderly stroked her cheek. “You make it impossible to stay mad at you, you know that?”
Emily swallowed. “You know, kissing for the first time in the back of a police car would make for a good story.”
“Yeah, it would.” Casey puckered up and—they jumped apart when someone pulled the door open.
Detective Walker peered inside. “Yeah, I can vouch for this one,” she said, pointing at Casey. “The other one is the girlfriend.”
Casey stared at her. How did she—”
“Christ, the woman saves your ass, and all you can do is whinge,” Walker said with a shake of her head. “Will you please hang up your damn phone, already. I’ve rolled my eyes so much during the last five minutes that I’m afraid I might have permanent eye damage.”
The Missing Comatose Woman Page 15