He knew what she wished. “He would be so proud of you,” he said.
She flashed him a bittersweet smile. “I know. Even though we’ve been here for almost three years, we’ve never had anything like this to let people know about us. After today I’m hoping everyone in Kansas City knows about Precious Pets.”
The morning flew by as Troy followed Brianna around while she checked pens inside and out, petted and loved every dog in the place and double-checked last-minute details.
Sandy arrived at eleven, her blond hair worn in the same style as Brianna and clad in a blouse that looked remarkably similar to one that he’d seen Brianna wearing in the tabloid photos. It was obvious she had a severe case of hero worship.
By twelve-thirty the place looked as if a party was about to occur. The deejay had set up his equipment and was testing it, the air was redolent with the scents of cooking hot dogs, sweet cotton candy and popcorn. The dogs and cats were all in pens outside, producing a cacophony of sound that rivaled the deejay’s rock and roll.
At twelve-thirty Troy went to the back room where a few dogs still remained in their pens, dogs that were sick or not deemed fully ready for adoption. He walked over to a window that provided a view of the back of the property, an area that was heavily wooded.
He heard the soft sound of footsteps, smelled the familiar scent of perfume and knew that Brianna had joined him. “How far back does your property go?”
“Acres and acres,” she replied as she came to stand beside him. “I haven’t even been back to the property line. It’s thick woods and brush. Eventually I’d like to clear some of it off and expand. Maybe set up a training area and hire somebody to train working dogs for the blind and such.”
He looked at her. Her hair was mussed and the lipstick she’d worn out of the house that morning had long since disappeared. The faint scent of wet dog mingled with her perfume, and he thought she’d never looked so lovely.
“You’ve got big dreams,” he observed.
She smiled. “Are there any other kind? What about you, Troy? What kind of dreams do you have?”
“None. I like things just as they are in my life.” He felt the need to distance himself from her, from the swell of desire for her that suddenly filled him. “It’s almost one. We’d better get up front.”
How long would a Hollywood socialite be happy here in Kansas City running an animal shelter? He gave it two, three months tops before she went running back to her designer clothes and fancy friends.
The undercover cops arrived and were briefed by Troy, and at one o’clock, all that was missing were people. “What if nobody shows up?” Brianna asked worriedly as she gazed out the front window.
“Don’t worry, people will show up,” Sandy said. “If nothing else some people will come just to see you.”
Brianna smiled at the young woman. “I don’t want people coming for me. I want them here for the animals.” She turned back to the window. “Here comes a car,” she exclaimed. “It’s Kent!” Before Troy could stop her, she raced out of the door.
He started after her, then relaxed as he saw two of the undercover cops following her. Troy watched from the window as she threw herself into the arms of the handsome, dark-haired young man that stepped out of the car.
Kent would be Kent Goodwell, the man she’d dated through high school, the one she’d been dating when she’d left for California. He was a good-looking guy and carried himself with an air of confidence. Troy was stunned by the alien emotion that filled him, one he identified as jealousy.
How could he be jealous when he was so certain Brianna wasn’t the right woman for him? He clenched his jaw and reminded himself that she was just a job, not his fantasy woman. He definitely had to get a grip on himself, he thought.
He watched as the two of them came inside, Brianna with a beatific smile on her face. “Troy, this is my good friend Kent. And Kent, this is Troy Sinclair, a friend and at the moment my bodyguard.”
Kent looked at him with surprise and held out his hand. “Bodyguard?” he asked as he shook Troy’s hand.
“It’s a long story,” Brianna replied.
Kent smiled at Brianna. “Then we definitely have to make some time to catch up on things.”
“There’s more cars coming in,” Sandy said from the front window.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Brianna said to Kent.
Kent was still in love with her, Troy thought as he noticed the handsome man watching Brianna. It was obvious in the man’s eyes, in the way he touched her whenever possible.
As the day of festivity began, Troy couldn’t help but notice how Kent was never far from Brianna’s side, how he hung on her every word and watched her when she wasn’t aware of him.
Troy had a feeling there were plenty of unresolved emotions where Kent was concerned. What he didn’t know was whether those emotions had somehow spiraled out of control, transformed a love relationship into an obsessive hate.
It certainly wouldn’t be anything new, the mental state of “If he couldn’t have her, nobody else could.” Time and time again the papers and crime annals were filled with such stories.
What he had to figure out was if Kent Goodwell was really a viable suspect or if his brain was clouded by the unexpected surge of jealousy.
“TWENTY-THREE DOGS AND cats,” Brianna exclaimed as she threw her arms around Troy’s neck. “That’s how many found homes today.”
The hot-dog man had gone home, the deejay was packing up and the guests who had filled the grounds for the last three hours had all departed.
She stepped back from him when he didn’t return the embrace. “Are you okay?”
“Just tired,” he replied. “I’m glad the day was such a huge success for you.”
“Not for me, for the animals. We need to celebrate,” she replied. “If I was back in California, I’d say let’s go get some champagne and dance the night away, but since we can’t do that how about we stop on the way home and pick up a bottle of wine and a frozen pizza?”
Before he could reply, Mike walked into the office, a tired but triumphant smile on his face. “Why don’t you two go ahead and get out of here? Sandy and I can finish things up.”
“Are you sure?” Brianna asked.
“Go,” Mike commanded. “Go home and relax. There’s not much left to do. Sandy and I will be out of here within a half an hour.”
“Okay,” she replied. She felt as if she were covered in animal hair and dirt. What she wanted more than anything at the moment was a nice, hot bath.
Together she and Troy left the building and headed toward the car. When they were both buckled in, Troy turned and looked at her. “He’s still in love with you.”
She frowned. “Who?”
“Kent. He’s still in love with you.”
“We’re friends. He loves me, but he’s not in love with me,” she replied, surprised by the very topic of conversation.
“I’m telling you that man is in love with you.” Troy’s jaw knotted and she stared at him in surprise.
“Okay, whatever. But I’m not in love with him and he knows that.” What was with him? He was acting almost like a jealous lover.
She scoffed inwardly at this ridiculous thought. She wasn’t even sure Troy Sinclair really liked her; why would he be jealous of an old boyfriend?
Troy started the car and they headed down the lane toward the highway. “What are you thinking?” she asked, wishing she could read his thoughts. In all the time they’d spent together, she had never felt such distance from him like she did now.
“I’m just wondering how obsessed Kent really is with you, if he’s obsessed enough to want you dead rather than with anyone else.”
“That’s crazy,” she exclaimed. She stared out the side window, his words echoing in her head. Was the idea any crazier than anything they’d come up with so far? “If it is Kent, then why would he kidnap my father?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to hurt you? Maybe to keep you i
n town longer. He knows as long as your father is missing you won’t fly back to California. Maybe he intended to be your hero, your support while you were worried about your dad.”
“You have an evil mind,” she exclaimed.
His lips pressed together in a grim smile. “Sometimes you have to think evil to find evil.” At that moment, his cell phone rang. He answered and listened for a long minute. “Yeah, all right. Got it.”
He hung up and slipped the phone back in the pocket of his sports shirt, then cast a quick glance in her direction. “That was Kincaid. They got an anonymous call that if they want to find Brandon, they should look at Sandy Cartwright’s place.”
“Sandy?” Brianna thought of the young woman who worked for her. She sat up straighter in her seat. “We have to go there. I know where she lives.” An anonymous call? Who could have made such a call?
Although it made no sense that Sandy would be involved in any of this, a desperate urgency filled Brianna. Was it possible they were finally going to get some answers?
“It’s probably best if we let the police handle it,” Troy said.
“Turn left at the highway,” she said. “Sandy’s place is only fifteen minutes from here.”
Troy released a sigh. “Why do I sometimes think when I’m talking to you that nobody is listening?”
“I listen,” she protested. “But you should know me well enough by now to realize that when you told me that information, I was going to make you take me directly to Sandy’s place.”
“You’re right, I knew that,” he agreed. Once again his lips compressed tightly together.
Maybe he was getting tired of this, tired of her. At the thought a sudden dart of pain shot through her and she realized just how deeply Troy Sinclair had crawled into her heart.
She forced her gaze out the passenger window. She couldn’t think about that now. She had to focus on the fact that this was the first real lead they’d had concerning her father.
“Maybe they can trace the call, find out who made it,” she said.
“Time will tell,” he replied.
Even though she had no idea what relationship Sandy might have with her father, even though Sandy was the last person she would suspect in any crime in the city, her mind whirled with possibilities.
Heather and her father were divorcing. Was it possible that her father and Sandy had begun a relationship? No, Brianna couldn’t imagine her father dating somebody younger than her. He just wasn’t that kind of man.
“Turn left at the next corner,” she said. The closer they got to the old farmhouse where Sandy lived, the more an edge of wild hope built up inside Brianna. Please let him be there, she prayed. And let him be alive.
She closed her eyes and imagined her father’s thick, strong arms around her, his familiar scent of expensive cologne, breath mints and cigars surrounding her.
Someplace deep inside her she knew how unlikely it was that he’d be found alive, but her heart refused to relinquish the tiny flicker of hope that still burned.
Kent. Sandy. Heather. James Stafford. The names of suspects whirled in her head. Which one would want to kidnap her father, and which one might want her dead?
She examined one, then discarded the thought in favor of another, her mind jumbled and confused as it worked to find answers. “Turn right at the next intersection,” she said, breaking the taut silence that had descended in the car. “Sandy’s farmhouse is about five miles ahead on the right.”
“She lives in a farmhouse? She seems awfully young. Does she live there with her parents?” Troy asked.
“No, she lives alone. Her grandparents left her the place a couple of years ago, and she’s lived there since their deaths.”
“It’s pretty isolated out here,” he observed as they passed fields of corn and then a stand of trees.
“It’s a perfect place to keep a kidnapped person without anyone knowing it,” she replied.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Brianna. This is probably a wild-goose chase, maybe the kidnapper having a little fun. Sandy doesn’t strike me as the criminal type.”
Brianna thought of the young woman who had lightened her hair to the same shade as hers. Sandy had always struck her as sweet if a bit immature. “I know, I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but this is the first communication we’ve had from the kidnapper since his initial call to Heather.”
“We’re not even sure the anonymous call really came from the kidnapper,” he reminded her. “The police get all kinds of crazy calls in instances like this.”
“But they’re taking it seriously enough to check it out,” she replied.
When they pulled onto the lane that led to the small farmhouse, three police cars were already parked in front. It didn’t appear that any search had begun yet. The officers were clustered on the porch, along with a tall, dark-haired man in a suit.
“The suit is Chief Wendall Kincaid,” Troy said as he put the SUV in park and shut off the engine.
Brianna wanted to jump out of the car and beat down the door to search the rooms, but a sudden, throat-choking fear held her in place.
She looked at Troy and he must have seen the emotion in her eyes, in the tension of her facial features, because he reached out and took her hand.
She swallowed hard. “I’m suddenly terrified,” she confessed. “I’m afraid we’ll find him and he’ll be dead, and I’m afraid we won’t find him and the uncertainty will just go on and on.” She stared at the house, where Wendall Kincaid and a uniformed officer detached from the group and were heading toward their vehicle.
Troy released her hand. “Come on, let’s find out what’s going on.” Together they got out of the car and met Wendall.
“We’re waiting for one of two things,” Wendall explained. “We need either a search warrant or Sandra Cartwright’s permission to search the place.”
“She’s at Precious Pets, but she should be here within a half an hour,” Brianna said. Her stomach twisted in knots. She didn’t want to wait. “Why can’t you just go on in? Break down the door and see if my dad is there?”
Wendall’s dark eyes held a touch of sympathy. “Because that’s illegal.”
“So is kidnapping,” Brianna exclaimed.
“Yes, but our doing that would jeopardize a trial down the line. I understand that you’re anxious, but we have to do things the right way.”
Brianna released a sigh of impatience and at the same time welcomed Troy’s arm around her shoulder. “Patience, Bree,” he said softly.
She sagged against him, wondering how long she could maintain this level of emotional intensity without breaking. At that moment Sandy pulled into the driveway. She got out of the car, a confused and slightly frightened look on her face.
“What’s going on? Why are the police here?” Her voice was thin and higher pitched than usual.
“We’ve received some information and would like to conduct a search of the premises,” Wendall said to her.
“A search? For what?” Her gaze darted frantically from Wendall to Brianna, then back to Wendall.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details,” Wendall said. He offered her a charming smile. “It’s probably nothing, but we really need to do this. Would you give us permission to search?”
She hesitated and in that hesitation Brianna felt as if she might throw up. Although she couldn’t imagine Sandy being responsible for her father’s kidnapping, was it possible she was involved with the kidnapper?
“All right, of course,” she finally said. She handed Wendall her key ring. “The gold one unlocks the front door.”
Wendall handed the key to the uniformed officer, who hurried toward the front door. “It would be easier if you all just wait out here,” he said. He turned his gaze to Sandy. “We’ll be as careful as possible with your personal space.”
“If you could just tell me what you’re looking for, maybe all this isn’t necessary,” she said. “I don’t do drugs. Is that what this is about?”
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Troy held tight to Brianna, as if to keep her silent and let Wendall handle things. Before Wendall could reply, an officer stepped out on the porch. “Chief, you might want to come in here.”
An urgency in the officer’s voice shot through Brianna. She broke free from Troy’s hold and ran toward the house.
“Brianna, wait! I need to explain,” Sandy cried after her.
Explain? Explain what? Horrible thoughts flashed through Brianna’s mind as she ran toward the front door of the house, desperately afraid of what lay within.
Chapter Eleven
Troy raced after her, his heart beating so hard, so loudly he scarcely heard Wendall calling after them or Sandy’s hysterical cries.
Brianna disappeared into the house as he took the porch steps in two long strides. He entered a living room that was neat and tidy. An officer stood at the doorway that led into the kitchen but the activity came from a room down the hallway.
With Wendall at his heels, Troy shoved through the throng of policemen and entered a small bedroom where Brianna stood in the center, her hands clasped over her mouth in obvious shock.
It took only one glance around the room for him to see what had shocked her. All four walls had been papered with pictures of her. They’d obviously been cut out of tabloids and gossip magazines and taped to the walls to create the montage of obsession.
“What the hell?” Wendall stepped into the room and looked around.
Sandy followed him, hysterical sobs ripping through her as she started toward Brianna. Troy stepped between the two, unsure what was going on, but knowing the last place he wanted Sandy was near Brianna.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Sandy cried. “Please, Bree, I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t know why you’re here, but I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Check the rest of the house and the outbuildings,” Wendall said to the men who had gathered in the doorway.
“Please, believe me,” Sandy said to Brianna. “I just admire you so much. I’ve been studying your pictures, trying to find clothes like yours. I think you’re wonderful, Bree. I just wanted to be like you.” Deep sobs shook her shoulders as she hid her face in her hands.
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