Had Rogers overpowered her—or shot her? Had he somehow dragged her out of the apartment despite an injury? He pressed his hands to his head, holding back a wave of terror. His breath came in harsh rasps. Shit, hold it together. Panicking sure as hell wouldn’t help Grace.
“I told her not to go home alone. I told her to call that detective friend of hers.”
“Maybe she did. Maybe he has Rogers in custody, though you’d think someone would have notified me by now.”
“Call SFPD. They’ll give you faster answers than they will me. Her friend’s name is Marconi.”
While Fritz waited and talked then waited some more, Travis stripped off his bloody clothes to put on clean jeans and a T-shirt. Wylie stayed close to his side, pressing against his legs when he eased down onto the edge of the bed.
“Rogers hasn’t been arrested yet, but the detective wants to talk to you.” Fritz held out his phone.
Travis took it. “Marconi?”
“What the hell happened to Grace?”
“I don’t know. We think Mason Rogers was here at her apartment. She didn’t call you earlier?”
“No. Shit. Does Rogers have her?”
Travis closed his eyes for a moment. “Maybe. I can’t imagine any other reason she wouldn’t be answering her phone.”
“Is her Porsche there?”
“We haven’t had a chance to look for her car or question the neighbors yet.”
“I’m homicide, and this is missing persons, so I’ll be out of the loop. Will you keep me informed?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you contacted her parents or sister?”
“Not yet. I’d rather wait until we have some news to report.”
“Talk to Kane when you call. He’ll decide how much to tell her mom and dad.”
“I’ll do that, and I’ll be in touch.” He handed the phone back to Fritz.
“The local police will be here shortly. Let’s check with the neighbors before they arrive and take over. Where does Grace keep her car?”
“In a garage a couple blocks away. I’ll start with the neighbor on this floor. Maybe she saw something.”
A middle-aged woman with short, copper-colored hair answered his knock. He struggled to remember her name. “Elsa?”
“You’re Grace’s friend. A lot of commotion across the hall lately. I don’t much like it. This is supposed to be a quiet building.” Her gaze dropped to Wylie. “That dog was barking his head off earlier when I was trying to watch my show.”
“Do you know what time it was?”
She frowned. “My show starts at two, so shortly after that. Is something wrong? Where did Grace go with that young man? I tried to question her, but she just smiled and kept walking.”
He grasped the doorframe and took a deep breath. “I’m a little concerned about her. When was this? Did she look okay?”
“I passed her on the stairs after I got my mail. Must have been around four-thirty. She wasn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean, but she did look sort of nervous.”
Fritz stepped up behind him. “Ma’am, was the man forcing her to go with him? Did you see a weapon of any kind?”
She gasped, and her eyes widened. “No, of course not. I would have called the police if he was holding a gun on her. I’m not one of those people who look the other way and mind my own business when someone’s in trouble.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, he was carrying a jacket over his arm. You don’t suppose—”
Travis interrupted. “Best not to speculate. Grace didn’t say anything to you?”
“No, she just nodded as we passed. Is she in trouble?”
“I’m afraid so.” Fritz held out a business card. “Will you call me if you think of anything else that might help?”
She glanced at the card. “You’re with the FBI? What’s Grace done?”
“Nothing. We’re just concerned for her safety. Someone from the city police department will be by to talk to you shortly.”
The woman pressed a hand to her chest. “This is all my fault.”
Fritz stepped closer. “Excuse me?”
“When I got home, my arms were full of groceries, and I was struggling to open the door. That young man ran up the sidewalk and held it for me. He was wearing a puffy jacket that looked a little too warm for the day and walking kind of funny. When I asked him if he was okay, he told me he was fine so I thanked him and went inside. I bet he held the door open until I disappeared up the stairs and then followed.”
The agent’s lips tightened. “It can’t be helped now, ma’am, and at least you’ve explained how he got into the building.”
Travis cleared his throat. “Elsa?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind watching Wylie, maybe taking him for a walk? I don’t have time right now, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” He held out the end of the leash.
“Heavens, no. It’s the least I can do. Go find Grace.”
“Be careful of his ribs. He’s bruised up some.”
Her eyes softened. “I will.”
“Thank you.” He followed Fritz down the stairs and out the front door with fists clenched at his sides. Grace was alive and uninjured. Or had been a few hours ago. It was something to hold onto. “Let’s go see if they took her car.”
The garage bay was empty. Fritz called in a description of the vehicle as they hurried back to his SUV.
“Now we wait and hope the APB produces results.”
Travis stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to sit on my ass, praying some patrol officer running radar somewhere notices her Porsche.” He glanced at his watch. “That freak has had her for nearly two hours now. We have to do something.”
“We’ve been searching for Rogers for weeks. I know you’re frustrated, but we haven’t been able to locate any address for the man other than a penthouse apartment in New York. He’s injured, so there’s a decent chance Grace will be able to get away from him on her own.”
“Why didn’t she run when she was here? He must have threatened her with something—or he had a weapon the neighbor didn’t see.”
“Maybe he told her he’d kill the dog.”
“Grace loves Wylie, but I don’t think she’d risk her life for him.” Travis ran a shaking hand through his hair. “She’s smart and resourceful. Let’s hope she has some kind of plan. Let’s pray she knew what she was doing when she drove away with a killer.” His chest heaved. “I have to call her family.”
“Would you like me to do it?”
He shook his head. “No, I want to talk to her sister. Rogers made a comment to Grace’s co-worker a while back that has been bothering me. He said contacting her was eighteen years overdue. Grace didn’t understand it, but Rachel might have some idea what he meant. The two women are close.”
“Any lead at all would be helpful at this point. Your Glock is locked in the SUV. I’m sure you’d like to have it back.”
“Please.” He stopped and swore. “Well, shit. I don’t have a freaking car. I’ve been using Grace’s.”
Fritz paused with the weapon in his hand and glanced over his shoulder. “Going somewhere?”
Travis kicked a crumbling chunk of concrete then winced. “I can’t sit around the apartment doing nothing. I was thinking of driving up to Vine Haven to break the news in person.”
“Get in. I’ll give you a ride to the nearest car rental agency.”
* * * *
Travis leaned an elbow on the shining surface of the table in the Lafferty’s dining room as he finished recounting the day’s events. “No sign of her car yet, according to Fritz, so they must have parked it somewhere.”
Rachel sniffed and wiped her eyes with a tissue. Her husband picked up her hand and squeezed it.
“Grace is going to be fine. Is there anyone on the planet stronger or more determined than your sister?”
Travis gave her a half-hearted smile of encouragement. “Honestly, Rachel, that’s what’s keeping me going right
now—knowing Grace is a lot smarter than Mason Rogers. If she doesn’t kick his ass, she’ll talk him into letting her go.”
Kane grunted. “But you’d just as soon ride in to save the day.”
“I don’t care who saves her as long as Grace walks away in one piece. Hell, I’d even let one of her ex-boyfriends have all the glory.”
Rachel choked on a tearful laugh. “You really must care.”
“I love her. It’s as simple as that. Now, what can you tell me about Grace’s life eighteen years ago? Why would Mason Rogers mention that number in particular? Is there someone she could have known who had a connection to him? He would have been a little kid at the time.”
“Eighteen years ago, Grace was sixteen.” Rachel frowned. “That was a rough year for her. It was the year David, the boy she was dating, died in a drunk-driving accident. We talked about this, about how strange it was the hit man had the same last name.”
Travis knocked over his soda can. Foam and cola spewed across the table. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Kane grabbed a handful of napkins to soak up the mess. “Explain.” He let out a breath. “Please.”
“Rogers. David Rogers was the boy who died when Grace was in high school. It pretty much destroyed her at the time.”
“And Grace didn’t tell me this before because—”
“She didn’t see any connection. David was an only child, years older than this freak who…who took her. It’s not an uncommon name.”
“Maybe he’s a cousin or something. Do his parents still live in Vine Haven?”
“His dad died a few years ago. Cancer. Karen Rogers used to be a regular customer at the bookstore, but she stopped coming in shortly after her husband died. I think she sold their house and moved away.”
Kane pushed back his chair. “I can log into the county database from the computer in the office. If we can track this woman down, maybe she can tell us something about Mason Rogers.”
Travis followed him into the living room where all three of Rachel’s girls were watching TV. Canned laughter echoed through the room.
Lark stood and glanced from one adult to the next. “Where’s Aunt Grace?”
Rachel shot a quick look toward the two younger girls and shook her head. “Honey, will you help me in the kitchen? I’m late starting the baking for tomorrow, and my customers will revolt if there aren’t any cinnamon rolls.”
“Sure. There’s nothing but reruns on TV anyway.”
Kane squeezed his wife’s arm before continuing through the room.
In the small office, Travis scooted a chair up close to Kane’s as the sheriff logged into the system. “Where do we start?”
“Property records, I guess. Maybe she bought a smaller home somewhere in the area after her husband died.”
The record for the sale of the Vine Haven house had been duly recorded, but there wasn’t another purchase.
Travis scowled at the computer screen. “I hope she didn’t die, too.”
“We’ll try death records.” Kane typed and scrolled. “Here’s the husband, Franklin Rogers. No Karen.”
“What about marriage records? Maybe she remarried in the last couple of years.”
Kane’s hands stilled on the keys. “Well, this is interesting.”
“Did she marry again?” Travis straightened in his chair.
“No, I found the marriage record for Karen and Franklin. How old was David when he died?”
“A couple of years older than Grace, so around eighteen.”
“If my math is correct, why did his parents get married two years after he was born?”
“That’s odd. A few months would be one thing, but a couple of years? Can we look for David’s birth certificate?”
Kane typed and frowned. “No record. David wasn’t born in this county.”
“I’ll call Fritz. He can put one of his computer geeks on it. If the FBI can’t find Karen Rogers—”
“They’ll find her.” Kane stood. “I smell cinnamon rolls. Let’s go indulge in sugar while we wait for some answers. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
* * * *
“I’m hungry.”
Mason Rogers scowled. “Too bad. Would you rather be dead?”
Grace climbed down the final rungs of the ladder and walked away from the oak tree with its wooden platform high up in the branches. Still solid enough to hold their weight after eighteen years. The moon was out, illuminating the overgrown path, but she stumbled and went down on one knee. Mason reached out a hand to help her to her feet.
She thanked him then rolled her eyes. Common courtesy toward the man holding her hostage, really? She was losing it. “We stayed up there too long. It’s dark.”
“You’d rather be back in the filthy shack?”
“I’d rather be home, eating pizza and taking care of my dog. You gave him a nasty bruise, kicking him that way. I hope you didn’t break a rib. I should take him to the vet to have him checked out.”
“Would you lay off about the stupid dog?” He hunched his shoulders. “I can’t let you leave. We’ve been through this.”
Grace gritted her teeth. He’d definitely relaxed his guard, though the shiny, silver pistol tucked in the holster on his hip made her nervous. Surely she’d have an opportunity to grab the car keys sooner rather than later. A much better option than trying to escape on foot and leaving him with transportation. Maybe Rogers wouldn’t go after her neighbors at this point, but she wasn’t willing to risk Lark. He was just mean enough—not to mention batshit crazy—to hunt her niece down and hurt her out of sheer spite. He had to be in an incredible amount of pain, especially after climbing the tree with a broken arm. If she could convince him to pop a half-dozen pills, maybe he’d doze off.
“I have extra-strength ibuprofen in my purse in the car. It’s been hours since you took something, and you look ready to drop.”
They crossed the weedy side yard and stopped by the driveway.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
She opened the car door and reached for her purse. Taking out the pill bottle, she shook three into her hand then added a fourth and held out her palm. “Here.”
“I’m not taking four freaking pills. You want me to OD?”
“On ibuprofen? Get serious. This’ll barely take the edge off the pain.”
“Let me see the bottle?”
With a sigh, she held it up. “Ibuprofen, just like I said.”
He squinted in the moonlight then nodded. “I’ll take three.”
“Whatever.” She dropped the last one back into the bottle then tossed her purse into the car while he swallowed the pills dry.
“Geez, I’m a complete idiot.”
He glanced up. “Why’s that?”
“I have power bars in my glove box. Maybe I won’t starve after all.”
“Hold it.” He knocked her hand away.
She pressed it against the seatback to stop the shaking. God only knew if she could choke down food, but she was going to try. Cocky and self-assured was her new strategy. Sympathetic understanding hadn’t gotten her anywhere while they talked up in the tree. If she could pull off complete confidence, maybe he’d actually start listening to her. Taking a breath, she squared her shoulders and forced a bored smile.
“You really are paranoid. Open it yourself. No gun. Just food.”
He pushed the button on the little door and pulled out a handful of bars. “Mind if I eat one? I’d prefer not to take those pills on an empty stomach.”
“Sure.” She reached behind the passenger seat and retrieved a blanket, hugging it to her chest. “I imagine it’ll cool off before the night is over.”
“Anything else?”
Grace shook her head and strolled toward the house beside him, in no hurry to go inside the dingy shack. “We can’t stay here forever, you know. Do you have a plan?”
“I’m working on one, and you’ll be the first to hear the details once I’ve figured th
em out. Before we can go anywhere, though, I have to access my damn bank account. I’m almost out of cash.”
Pressing her lips together, she resisted shouting he was a freaking loon if he thought he was going to get away from here. Making him angry would definitely not be in her best interests.
“Did you see that?”
She turned. “See what?”
“A flash of light over toward the road.”
Her heart beat a little faster. God, please let Travis have somehow found me.
“Are you sure you’re not seeing things? It’s late. Who’d be out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“It’s not like we’re in Moose Flat for Christ’s sake. Civilization is only a few miles away. You tell me who’d be out there. Your boyfriend maybe?” His voice rose as he pulled out the gun and waved it toward the house. “Get inside.”
“I’m going.” She stepped up onto the porch and glanced back over her shoulder. A cloud covered the moon, leaving unrelenting blackness. Her hopes of rescue faded with the light. “How would I have contacted Travis? You tossed my phone out on the freeway, which is going to be a huge inconvenience, by the way. The light was probably someone walking their dog.”
“I’m not taking any unnecessary risks, and I’m not in the mood to chase you down, so get inside.”
The door creaked as she pushed it open. “Ironic.”
“What is?”
“You kill people for a living. Taking risks is what you do.”
“Shut up, Grace. Just shut the hell up!”
Chapter 30
“Got it. Thank you, Mrs. Rogers. At least it’s a place to start.” Travis stood and pocketed his cell phone.
“What did she tell you? Has she been in touch with him?” Rachel’s eyes filled with hope. “Does she know where that lunatic took my sister?”
“She mentioned a house outside Vallejo where Mason Rogers lived at the time of David’s death.”
Kane followed him to the door. “Do his parents still live there?”
“No, his father fell in a drunken stupor and cracked his head open when Mason was a young boy. Fritz uncovered that bit of information a while back. Karen Rogers told me it happened the day after David died. Odd, don’t you think?”
Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) Page 27