"Oh, it doesn't matter. As long as it’s red, your sister will drink it." His brother-in-law laughed at his own joke.
"Well, I really would prefer to ask her myself?"
The other end of the line went quiet and Ansel closed his eyes, knowing Dave would never believe he cared this much about wine.
"What's going on, Ansel?"
"Nothing, really.” Which was true. “I just called the house, and Cat's cell and—"
"You can't get a hold of her," Dave finished for him. "Why are you worried about her, Ansel?" he asked, too smart for his own good.
"I don't know." And he didn't. "She said she would call me back after she answered the door." It sounded ridiculous to anyone but Dave.
"You're closer," Dave barked, knowing how out of character this was for his wife. "Call me when you get there. I'm leaving now."
Ansel finished dressing, and made the twenty-minute drive to his sister's house in fifteen.
Her car was still in the garage, and he smirked, feeling like an idiot. He knocked on the heavy wooden door, and then tried to think of a plausible explanation for his unexpected visit.
But Cat never came to the door.
Silently, he turned the knob. It was unlocked, and alarm bells went off in his head. He pulled his Glock out of his holster, and carefully pushed open the door. He scanned his sister's cozy living room, but saw no one. A clock chimed in the living room as he closed the door with his right elbow, both hands firmly wrapped around his weapon.
The leather on his well-used tactical boots was broken in, so he made no noise as he silently searched the first floor of his sister's home. The thick black soles were there to protect him from glass and debris. But there was no broken glass, no sign of a struggle, and no sign of his sister.
Ansel allowed his eyes to adjust before approaching the dark staircase. He stepped gingerly on the outside of the bottom tread, having learned from experience that it was less prone to creaking. Ansel knew he was vulnerable, having to cover both sides of the landing, but he had no choice. He was all alone, and his sister was in danger. Halfway up the staircase, Ansel swung around to cover the dark upstairs hallway. It was empty. He continued on, walking backwards up the stairs.
Nothing.
No sounds, no feminine cries. Thank God. He had the advantage of being familiar with the house. So, he cleared the rooms one by one, starting from the left.
The last room to be cleared was the master bedroom. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he approached. He opened the door, angling his shot, but the bed was perfectly made, as always. No home invasion. No corpse. He allowed himself a sigh of relief, then cleared the master closet.
"Catherine!" his brother-in-law yelled from downstairs.
"She's not here, Dave," Ansel shouted back, holstering his pistol out of sight before walking downstairs to interrogate his brother-in-law. "She hasn't called you?"
"No!" Dave ran his hand through his sandy blond hair. "I've been calling her on my car phone the whole way home," he said, on the verge of panicking.
"Okay." Ansel looked down and gave him a job to do. A task to distract Dave's active mind, which was undoubtedly imagining all sorts of horrible things. Ansel's only problem was that he did not have to imagine those things. He had seen them, and he was finding it difficult not to place his sister in the scenes he tried so hard to forget. "I want you to call all of her friends. Maybe she turned her phone off when she went to lunch."
"Shouldn't we call the police?" A glassy sheen covered Dave's dark blue eyes.
It stabbed at his chest, but Ansel had to tell him the truth. "It won't matter. They won't do anything for at least twenty-four hours." But he would. "Do you know what article she was working on? Was it dangerous?"
"Dangerous!" Dave scoffed. "She writes a magazine about food and wine in Seattle. How on earth could that be dangerous?"
"There's a lot of money to be made in those industries." Not to mention jealousy and pride. "Did she review restaurants, vineyards, that sort of thing?" He was reaching and he knew it, but Ansel could not bring himself to think about the reason most thirty-two-year-old women were kidnapped, in broad daylight, from their own homes.
"Yeah, she just finished a review yesterday." Dave was nodding, clutching at the lifeline he had just been thrown. His brother-in-law walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the latest issue of Cat's magazine. He flipped through the glossy ads until he got to the credit page, and pointed at a name. "Seneca Reed. She's Catherine's photographer." And his blind date. "She'll know what reviews Cat was working on for the current issue."
"Great," Ansel smiled, helping Dave to the sofa. "You call her friends. Cat might have just gone out with one of them."
"Okay." Dave nodded, thankful to have something to do.
"I'm going to have a quick look around the house, before I go see Ms. Reed." He walked off before Dave could ask uncomfortable questions that he would not answer.
Ansel started his search in the kitchen. The coffee pot was on, and her cup sat half full on the counter, neither of which was a good sign. His sister would have finished her coffee then rinsed it out, placing it in the dishwasher, or…she would have set it down with the intention of coming back.
A knot started forming in the pit of his stomach as he walked into his sister's study. Her laptop was open, and perfectly parallel to the edge of the desk. Papers were stacked neatly to the right of it, with her cell phone weighing them down.
He froze.
Ansel picked up his sister's phone, which he suspected Cat silenced when she wrote. Having borrowed her phone, he tapped out her birth year on the security screen and the screen sprang to life. He glanced down at the phone icon, and could see the seventeen calls she had missed over the last thirty minutes.
He closed his eyes, knowing from the evidence that his sister had been taken against her will.
"No one's heard from her," Dave said, coming down the hall toward the study. Ansel slipped his sister's cell phone in his back pocket. "Have you found anything?"
"No." Ansel shook his head. "Just looks like she went out." He tried to smile. "We don't know that she didn't. I'll go talk to Seneca Reed, and you wait here until Cat comes home."
"Sure." Dave looked calmer. "And you'll call me—"
"The second I hear from her." Ansel placed his hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder. "I promise."
That was all he could promise. He left his sister's home with a sinking feeling. Cat was the only family he had left, and he was lucky enough to like her as well as love her.
And when he found out who had taken her…they were dead men.
CHAPTER THREE
Lake Side Condos
Kirkland, WA
January 13, 1:22 p.m.
Seneca sat at her computer, staring at a beautiful picture of black cod sitting atop a tower of handmade udon noodles sprinkled with black sesame seeds and spring onions. It looked delicious, and she gave herself a figurative pat on the back. Now all she had left to do was pick a font for the title page of the article Cat had written, and then she would be finished with this issue.
But right now, she was hungry.
Seneca had gained ten pounds since working for The Finer Things, but what was a girl to do? She was offered every meal that she photographed for the magazine, the chefs hoping to ply her with gourmet food in exchange for a favorable review, which she did not even write.
And the wine. Oh my God. The vintages were so amazing and given to her simply because she was photographing a full wineglass next to an even fuller plate of food.
Sighing at the thought of gourmet lunch, Seneca walked into the kitchen and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Cat needed these pages tonight, and Seneca promised she would have them finished when she arrived for dinner…with Cat's brother.
"Ugh," she groaned. Why did people always feel the need to set her up? Probably because she looked like a twelve-year-old waif in need of rescuing.
&nb
sp; It was so annoying.
Seneca put the colorful ceramic plate she had gotten at a thrift store on the kitchen counter that overlooked Lake Washington. She smiled at her view then bit into her unsophisticated food, thinking she should have made a half sandwich. The only good part about gaining weight was that her boobs were bigger—not much, but bigger. She even had to wear a bra.
Well, sometimes.
However, she knew if she lost weight, the first thing to go would be her nice new boobs. Of course, Seneca had heard of mythical creatures who liked women with small breasts. Unfortunately, she had never met any…but she had heard of them. Maybe Cat's brother was one of those guys?
"Yeah, right," she laughed.
And why did Cat refuse to show her pictures of her brother? It was suspicious. Her friend had said, she wanted Seneca to “get to know him first”.
So, obviously, the guy was hideous.
But that did not make any sense, because Cat was pretty. Really pretty, actually. Maybe he was a half-brother? Or they could be one of those freaky families, where one kid sucked up all the beauty and brains, leaving nothing for the other kid.
Whatever. She would just have to suffer through another dinner setup with one of her well-meaning friends. A working dinner…with her boss’s' brother…who was probably grotesque, and a huge pervert.
"Yay, something to look forward to," she muttered, setting her empty plate in the sink.
Seneca yawned, and then decided that she should shower sometime today. But her yoga pants and sweatshirt were so freaking comfortable.
To be fair, she had totally intended to go to yoga today. She had even put her hair into a loose bun, so that it would not fall in her face when she did downward dog. But then, she had hit the snooze button one too many times, and well…here she was working at home in her workout clothes.
Vowing to move her alarm clock to the other side of the bedroom, Seneca grabbed her half-empty can of diet soda. She was headed back to her desk to do a bit more work when the doorbell rang.
She immediately looked down at her green video game sweatshirt, regretting her decision to wear it. But then, she remembered the things she had ordered from Amazon and delivery guys rarely waited for her to open the door before they were gone. Just in case, she looked through the peephole of the contemporary wooden door. And as suspected, there was no one there.
She threw the door open, and was halfway bent over to pick up a package when she saw weathered black boots on very large feet. Startled, Seneca looked up, and her heart literally fluttered in her chest.
The man standing in front of her was huge, dressed all in black, and very…No, shockingly handsome.
And then she realized that the guy could kill her. Easily.
"Can I help you?" she asked, hoping he would not.
"Seneca Reed?"
"Yes."
The guy was so handsome; he was hard to look at. Like he would see you thinking about how hot he was, and he was very…damn, he was handsome.
And his body…Don't look at his chest, don't look at his chest. She couldn't help herself. The guy's chest was so muscular, she just wanted to run her hands…
Wait. "How do you know my name?"
"I'm Cat's…" The man shook his head, correcting himself. "Uh, Catherine Miller's bother."
"Oh." Son of a bitch!
Cat had been trying to set Seneca up with her brother for three months. She had finally agreed just to get Cat off her back, but had she known the man was this good looking…
Damn it!
"Nice to meet you," Seneca said, then blushed when she remembered what she looked like. "Please, come in." He walked in her condo, and she closed the door, lying, "I just got back from yoga class. Do you mind if I go and change out of my workout clothes?"
"Umm," he hesitated, his striking green eyes locking with hers.
Her heart started pounding.
"I'll just be minute," she assured him, then walked to her bedroom before he could stop her.
The second the door to her bedroom closed, Seneca ran to her closet and put on some tight jeans that made her ass look like she had been doing yoga. Then, she put on her favorite red shirt that brought out the rich red tones in her brown eyes.
Her hair was a different matter. The caramel color was dull and lifeless as she brushed it, and it was her own damn fault. Had she washed it, she would not be yanking it up into a ponytail right now.
Idiot!
She slapped on some mascara, lipstick, and used concealer to hide any imperfections in her skin, then gave herself the once-over in the mirror. She looked awful. Seneca groaned, but she didn't want to keep the man waiting any longer.
She walked out of her bedroom, and Cat's breathtaking brother rose from the barstool she had just been sitting on when she ate lunch.
Wow, he’s tall.
"Thank you so much for waiting." She gave him her best smile. "Is this about dinner tonight?"
"No." The man just stared down at her, and Seneca felt a little weak in the knees. "Do you mind if we sit down?" he asked, his long arms motioning her to her own couch as if he were the one who lived there.
"Sure," she nodded, and then remembered as she sat on the leather sofa. "I'm so sorry." I was too distracted by your extraordinary good looks to ask. "What was your name?"
"Ansel."
Damn. Even his name was sexy.
"What can I do for you, Ansel?"
"You can help me find Cat," he paused, wary. "Because she's just been kidnapped.”
CHAPTER FOUR
"What!" Seneca Reed shot off the sofa, her big brown eyes staring down at him.
"My sister's been kidnapped," Ansel repeated. And then, the small woman did something he was not expecting her to do.
She punched him in the arm.
"And you let me go change my clothes?" She was in shock, and taking it out on him. "You're holding this huge bomb that you're about to drop on me…until I changed?" she scoffed. "I even put on mascara!" She threw her arms up in the air, letting her hands come to rest on-top of her head.
He tried to explain. "I thought it best if you were sitting down, because—"
"Well," she turned her anger back on him. "You thought wrong!"
"Because…" He was getting irritated. "I need to ask you a few questions. So, sit down," he did not ask, snapping her out of it. But when he saw tears running down her cheeks, Ansel softened his tone, adding, "Please, Ms. Reed."
"Seneca," she whispered, wiping her tears away and snuffling once as if to shake off the news. "Who in the world would want to kidnap Catherine?"
"You can't think of anyone? An angry chef, a disgruntled distributer?"
"No." She shook her head, her ponytail swinging in the opposite direction. But then she started to laugh. "We write about food. It doesn't make any sense."
No, it didn't make sense. "What are you working on right now?"
"Nothing really." She blinked a few times to help herself remember. "Uh, the photos for a new restaurant opening up in Belltown. It's called 'Scavengers’. The chef's a really nice guy, married…" Her eyes went wide. "Cat is really beautiful. What if someone just…wanted her?"
That was becoming the most likely explanation. Ansel clenched his jaw. He looked down at the wool carpet, trying not to imagine what his sister might be going through.
"Oh my God." He felt her hand on his knee. "I'm so sorry. I was just thinking out loud. I'm sure she's…" Ansel met her eye, both of them knowing his sister was not 'fine'. "Could she have been ransomed? I have money if—"
"No." He breathed it.
"What are we going to do?" Her tears started up again. "We have to find her." Her voice was imploring and it gutted him.
Cat was his sister, his responsibility, and he would find her. Alone.
He stood up. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Reed."
Ansel was halfway to the door when he felt two small hands, tugging at his right arm.
"Wait!" The woman darted around hi
m, and stood in front of the door. He assumed it was her attempt to stop him from leaving, which was laughable because she was a foot shorter, and a least a hundred pounds lighter than he was. "They have cameras."
That did stop him from leaving. "What do you mean?"
"Dave got a new cable package for the house, so he would have high-speed internet access when he worked from home." The woman was smiling, which gave him a glimmer of hope that he did not want to allow himself to feel. "But the package also included cameras for the front and back doors, which means—"
"We might have images of her kidnappers," he said, more to himself than to her. "Why didn't Dave tell me about the cameras?"
"You know how Dave is," she said, using his shoulder for balance as she slipped on her black and white checkered Vans. "I'm sure he's in shock right now, and that man forgets things on normal days. Cat calls him the absent-minded professor." The woman grabbed her purse, and threw it over her shoulder as if she were going with him.
"What are you doing?" he asked, looking down at her.
"I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not." Ansel opened the door, and she slammed it shut with her back.
"Yes, I am," she said, pointing at him. "Because I can help you."
He scoffed. "How?"
"Because," she stuck out her chin, pulling herself up to the impressive height of five foot five, if she was lucky. "I made some money working as a programmer at Google."
"So?"
She rolled her big eyes. "So, I can access the video images for you."
"So can Dave, and so can I for that matter." He shoved her gently out of his way.
"Maybe," she said, and he twisted the doorknob, causing her to finish in a rush before he had the chance to leave. "But I can identify her friends and business associates." It was a standoff and she pressed her advantage. "Dave can't, and neither can you."
Shit.
He took a deep breath, and then made the only decision he could make. "All right," Ansel sighed. "Let's go."
ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel Page 2