Taking no chances, he and his brothers moved to the side of the door, out of the direct line of fire.
Just in case.
Harold, with military training, might come out shooting.
The door swung open to expose a man standing there in rust-colored pajama bottoms, hair mussed, one hand up to protect his eyes as if he’d been blinded by light.
“What, what is it? What do you want?” the man asked.
“Are you Harold Clark?” Cole asked in an authoritative voice.
Harold, it appeared, finally seemed to realize that there were three armed men on his doorstep. He frowned.
“Yes. What’s this all about?” Harold demanded.
“Is there anyone else in the residence with you?” Cole wanted another few seconds to listen to the interior of the house. To watch for running shadows that might mean the kidnappers were here, or for sounds of struggle from possible hostages. Playing the situation by ear, by instinct, he also watched Harold’s features for signs that the man might be lying, looked nervous or flighty.
“No. It’s just me. Are you the police?” Harold asked, starting to sound suspicious.
“We’re investigators from a private firm, here to follow a lead about three people who were abducted in a van that you own.” Cole’s gaze zeroed in on Harold. This was the time the man would fight, bolt, or begin to get shifty if he was guilty. Harold appeared confused and concerned.
“My van? I don’t have a van—well, I don’t have one any longer. I sold it five days ago. I guarantee you, I didn’t abduct anyone!” Harold declared.
“Sold it to who?” Cole didn’t let up for a second.
“Uh . . . I have the paperwork. The buyer’s name was Cole. Cole West.”
Madalina borrowed one of Cole’s more colorful curses and used it under her breath. She had half a mind to scream her head off, but it wasn’t worth a bullet in the mouth. They won’t really shoot you. They need you, she argued with herself. As much as that was true, Madalina didn’t want to antagonize a man with a gun.
Especially with her parents in range.
“Now then,” another man said from behind, “let’s make our way back to the sitting room. Quietly.”
Juniper made a small noise of distress. Madalina touched her mother’s shoulder and followed the procession around the corner, over the half wall, and into the room from which they’d so recently escaped. Someone had snapped the lights on, giving Madalina her first real look at their abductors.
They certainly weren’t Chinese, or Asian for that matter. If she had to guess, these men looked straight-up American. Judging by the man who’d spoken earlier, they sounded it, too. One was shaved nearly bald, another had short dark hair, the third was strawberry-blond, and the last was brown-haired and brown-eyed. The group struck her as efficient, controlled, capable. Like a group of firefighters or off-duty military personnel. These men wore dark indiscriminate clothing, looked clean and well kept, and appeared fairly annoyed at the escape attempt.
“You’re more resourceful than we gave you credit for,” the strawberry-blond man said. Then to the dark-haired man, he added, “Beau, grab zip ties instead of rope this time.”
Beau delegated a few orders to the others while he obtained the ties. Madalina put names to faces as her parents were secured to their old chairs, though she doubted the names were real. One of the men brought in an extra seat for her. The bald man, Julian, gave her chair an extra kick to the leg once her wrists were tied.
“So, this is what’s going to happen now,” Lance, the strawberry-blond guy, said. “I don’t know how much your parents have told you, but they’ve given us some information that we’re checking out.”
Madalina held Lance’s gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Earlier, during our interrogation, we discovered that there’s a package waiting for you at their house from your grandfather. For your birthday—” Lance paused to check his watch. “Today. We didn’t get that out of them when we grabbed them in Chino, unfortunately, or we wouldn’t have had to send an acquaintance all the way back to retrieve it. He should be here shortly, though.”
Madalina wanted to glance at her mother to see what the package was about. This was the first she’d heard of it.
“You go to hell,” Wesley interrupted suddenly, scowling.
Madalina glanced across at her parents. The men had positioned the chairs opposite each other rather than back-to-back. Her father looked like a pot about to boil over, face red, chest puffed up.
Lance ignored Wesley and continued to stare at Madalina. “Do you have any idea what’s in the package?”
“No. I didn’t know it existed,” she retorted. These men had probably been hired by the Chinese agents to get the job done in their stead. Although, a little voice whispered in her head, she’d thought that about the last dragon incident and she’d been wrong. The men had initially been sent by a collector, then had gone rogue and served only themselves.
“We’re going to find out together what’s inside. What happens after that all depends on the contents,” Lance said.
Madalina couldn’t tell if that was an obscure threat or just a statement. If the final two missing dragons were there, would he kill them? And if it was another of Walcot’s notes, would he kill her parents to keep them quiet and take her with them instead? The endless questions rolled around in her mind as she debated the situation.
Lance and the men exited the room after winding a rope around the french door handles, making it that much more difficult for her and her parents to attempt another escape.
The second the men were gone, Madalina looked at her parents and whispered, “Do you know what’s in the package?”
“No, darling. We never opened it. Walcot gave it to us before he died and said to give it to you on your next birthday,” Juniper said. She sniffed as if she might cry, but lifted her chin and held the tears at bay.
“We forgot about the package when everything else was going on with you,” Wesley said, “but your mother remembered a few days ago and got it out of the closet.”
“Do you think it felt heavy enough to contain pieces of stone?” Madalina asked.
“No. It’s medium-size but light. It didn’t have a lot of heft to it,” Juniper said. “When he gave it to me, I thought it was probably some bit of whimsy, you know, like he always used to give you. A talon from some animal in Africa, the whisker of a panther, a leaf from a nearly extinct tree. I didn’t know about the dragons then, which is probably why the package slipped my mind.” After a moment, she added, “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Maddy. If we had had any idea—”
“I know, Mom. Don’t worry. Neither you nor granddaddy could have known,” Madalina whispered, glancing at the door. She worried the men were listening in. Looking back at her parents, she said, “If for some reason we get separated, do whatever it takes to stay alive. Don’t make decisions based on whether you think it’ll save my life. All right? I’m resourceful. I’ll find a way to make them need me until I can get free.”
“But, Maddy—”
“All right?” Madalina insisted. She knew her parents would sacrifice everything, even their own lives, for her.
Wesley turned his gaze to the french doors and blinked rapidly. He still looked furious, but now also distraught. Juniper’s chin trembled, but she nodded agreement.
Relieved, Madalina turned her thoughts to the upcoming package and how she might turn the tables on the men. It all depended on what the package contained. She would find a way to do what she’d said: make the men need her. Even if she had to lie.
The warm rasp of Cole’s voice flickered through her mind, an unbidden memory: whatever it takes to stay alive.
CHAPTER SIX
The buyer was Cole West. Cole stared at Harold in confusion, wondering briefly if he’d heard right. Behind him, Damon uttered, “What the hell,” and Brandon grunted, proving that they’d been surprised as well by that turn of events. Cole c
ouldn’t decide if the buyers were trying to set him up with the authorities by using his name, or whether it was a calling card. We know you’re there, we know who you are—and who you are to Madalina. We knew, eventually, that you’d come looking. All kinds of connotations might be inferred from the use of his name.
Recovering from his surprise, Cole asked, “And what did this Cole West look like? I’d like to see the paperwork—and do you have surveillance on your house?”
“Tall guy, blond hair. Kind of. Blondish. His eyelashes and eyebrows were almost white. American. And no, I don’t have any kind of security setup. Did they really use the van to kidnap someone?” Harold held up a finger, a traditional Wait just a minute gesture, before stepping away from the open door.
Cole scanned the interior of the house, darting looks to the living room, dining room, and what he could see of the kitchen. A dark hallway sat to the left, empty of shadows or lurking bodies. Harold appeared to be telling the truth about who he was and his role with the van. “Did ‘Cole’ have anyone with him?”
Harold brought a single sheet of paper with him back to the door and handed it to Cole. “No, he was alone.”
Cole accepted the paper and tilted it so his brothers could see the crude “sales receipt” for the van. Both parties had signed an “as is” agreement. Simple, uncomplicated. “Cole’s” signature took up a fourth of the paper. Cole used his cell phone to take a picture of it, then said, “Harold, we’ll need to take this to test for fingerprint—”
“Don’t bother. Cole wore gloves during the transaction. I thought it eccentric at the time, but . . .” Harold shrugged. “This is Southern California. A man wearing gloves isn’t the weirdest sight in town.”
“Of course he did,” Cole muttered. He handed the sheet of paper back. “Is there anything else you can remember that might help us find this man?”
Harold rubbed fingers over his scruffy jaw. His chest puffed in a show of exaggerated importance. “Another car that had been parked near the curb up the street followed Cole as he drove the van out of the neighborhood. Although Cole bought the van by himself, I figured that was who had dropped him off.”
“How do you know it wasn’t just a resident?” Cole asked.
“It was too obvious. You know? And it was broad daylight, middle of the afternoon. Most folks are at work then. I was home on a lunch break to make the sales transaction,” Harold replied.
“What kind of car? What color?” Cole asked.
“Typical kind of sedan you’d get from a rental place. Plain, silver, a Ford, I think.”
“Did you get a glance at the license plate or the driver?” Cole knew the license plate was a long shot, but he didn’t want to leave here without some other lead to follow.
“Nah. Didn’t think it was important at the time. Cole paid cash, didn’t give me any trouble, so I wasn’t paying any attention to the plate. Seemed to be a guy driving, dark hair. Didn’t get a real good look,” Harold said.
“Thanks for the help,” Cole said, filing away the information. He took a step back from the door.
“Hey, wait. Who are you?” Harold asked.
Cole paused on the steps next to Damon and glanced at the haphazard homeowner. “Cole West.”
Harold looked utterly baffled.
With no more explanation than that, Cole led his brothers away from the homestead to the car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he bit back frustration and was about to dig his cell phone out when he heard Brandon pipe up from the backseat. His brother was already calling Thaddeus with the scant information they’d picked up from Harold. As the car idled, Cole listened to Brandon convey all the details they’d learned from Harold Clark.
“All right,” Brandon said once he’d ended the call. “Thaddeus is on it. He’s searching the rental database within a fifty-mile radius for the last seven days. That should narrow it down a little.”
Cole gripped the wheel and stared out the front windshield. “We need to come up with a plan if this falls through. Find clues elsewhere.”
“The leads are pretty slim,” Damon pointed out.
Cole knew all too well. “There has to be an important clue we’re missing somewhere.”
“I think this is our important clue. These guys are good, but they’re not that good. They slipped up with this van purchase, and we’re going to track them down by that rental car,” Brandon said as if he was certain of the outcome.
Cole snorted and looked at Brandon in the rearview mirror. His brother had his gaze tipped down to the phone, sending out text messages to God knew who. Ever optimistic, hardly anything got Brandon down. It was a good thing since Cole’s own mood bordered on volatile and impatient. He wanted to find Madalina and her parents now.
Leaving the neighborhood, Cole drove through the city of Ventura with his eyes peeled for a charcoal van. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t not search while Thaddeus attempted to narrow down the suspects. Driving back to Whittier seemed a waste. What if the abductors lived right here in Ventura? No, it was better to remain here until they had definitive information.
Twenty-two minutes later, Brandon’s phone rang.
Cole prayed for good news.
“Yeah. Yeah? Excellent. Give it to me,” Brandon said.
Cole swerved to the curb on a side street and twisted around to see Brandon in the backseat. It sounded like Thaddeus had found a solid lead, if not a name and location.
Brandon met Cole’s eyes and nodded. They had something.
Cole could hardly contain his need to know. His need to act. After another few minutes, Brandon signed off with Thaddeus.
“What’s he got?” Cole demanded.
“He found a silver Ford rental out of Santa Barbara with the name Cole West. The home address is a fake, which means the guy who rented it must have had a false driver’s license, but Thaddeus tapped into the rental car company’s GPS tracking and pinged on a residential address in the same city. The Ford returned there several times—and it was at Harold’s house in the right time frame. I think we have our guy,” Brandon said.
“Excellent. Give me the address.” Cole yanked the Jaguar onto the road, thankful for the lack of traffic this early in the morning.
“We’re not that far. Shouldn’t take us long to get there,” Damon said.
“This is the right one. I feel it in my bones,” Cole said. He sped onto the freeway, hurtling toward their new destination, hoping against hope that they’d arrive to find Madalina and her parents still alive.
The men hadn’t exaggerated about the time frame. Madalina thought perhaps ten minutes had passed before the door opened again and Lance led the way inside. His brethren followed. In Lance’s hands was a plain box that looked a bit worse for wear around the edges. Madalina imagined her grandfather worrying the edges with his fingers in the days before handing it over to Juniper. The box wasn’t large, maybe nine by twelve, and appeared to be made from papier-mâché or some other natural material.
Lance opened the lid, his lips drawn into a tight line.
From within he pulled a familiar-looking folded letter and several photos. Dried orchids—the laelia flower Madalina’s grandfather had wanted to name her after—fluttered to the floor.
Juniper drew in an audible, shaky breath.
Madalina knew this couldn’t be easy on her mother, either. Her daughter had been kidnapped, and now they were in effect opening a time capsule from her deceased father.
Lance sorted through the photos as the men gathered around him to see. Handing the pictures and the box off, Lance opened the letter and silently read.
Madalina wanted to know what the pictures were and what the letter said. She imagined it was like the others, full of cryptic tales of his life—or maybe this was his good-bye anthem. Maybe he’d given her something sweet and nostalgic to remember him by for her birthday.
“You’re going to decipher this and tell me what it means.” Lance stepped over and held the paper down in front of Madali
na’s face.
“Why don’t you at least untie my hands so I can hold it? I can’t read it like this,” she said.
“You can read it just fine,” Lance countered.
“I should read it aloud so that my mom can hear. She might recognize something in here that I don’t,” Madalina said. She took Lance’s silence for acquiescence.
My dear Madalina. I suspect you and your mother still probably have my ashes on the mantel, sitting in a decorative urn, doing nothing but taking up space above the fireplace. To be fair, I never specified where I wanted my ashes to be scattered.
Can you guess? Are you able to figure it out after everything you’ve learned, everything you’ve read? Think on it and we’ll get back to it later.
This is not a time to talk of death, but of life.
Your life, to be exact. How does it feel to have lived a quarter of a century? Are you happy? Have the travels I sent you on expanded your worldview, made you a lover of new cultures? That is my dearest wish.
Your birthday gift is not contained in this box, but elsewhere. Of course it is. Did you expect less? If I have succeeded in instilling a lust for travel in you, then indeed you did not expect anything different. To retrieve your present, you must first return to the past. Back to the birthday when I sent you a drawing of Ganesh (obtained in Pokhara). Do you recall? The elephant-headed image that you made up stories about when you were eight? You loved it. It did not matter to you that the drawing had been obviously created by a child (of your same age then, I might add) or that I was not there in person to tell you a story to go along with it. I wanted you to make up your own.
A Dangerous Tryst (The Inheritance Book 3) Page 5