“Caycee,” Jordan said, grabbing her hand as she started out of the vehicle. The electricity that soared through her shocked her as always, and she wrenched her arm from his grasp; she didn’t want to feel him now. “I’m sorry… I keep forgetting,” he offered. “Please be careful. Please find where Jaynee is, but don’t endanger yourself. Jaynee would never forgive me if I let something happen to you; she’s always wanted a sister.”
“I will. I promise. Jordan—” She paused, looking deep into his eyes. “Your touch…you felt that, right?”
He nodded.
“Is it always like that? I don’t understand.”
“No…” he said on a long breath, shaking his head. “I don’t understand either. Of course, what about all this is there to understand?” Subconsciously, she leaned toward him. He took in her face for a moment, inclining toward her, but then jolted upright. “Please…just find my Jaynee, but be careful. I really don’t want anything to happen to you, Caycee.”
Caycee closed her eyes and nodded. A lump in her throat threatened to escape in a cry for his embrace, but she gulped it down. “I think this might hurt, Jordan, but I have to say it anyway—”
“Please don’t,” he cut her off, but his words were soft and tender, the gentle and kind-hearted man she knew he was when he wasn’t in fear of his wife’s life.
She exhaled as she slid out of the car door, closing it gently behind her. Crossing the parking lot, she threw one final glance at Jordan before stepping inside the restaurant, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t the last time she saw him.
The Maître d’ spotted her across the room, surprised at once. He politely left the people he was attending and walked toward her. “Ms. Evans, how delightful that you are here this evening. I have missed you. Would you like your regular table, or will your sister be dining with you again?”
“No, it’s just me, but I’m meeting someone who has already arrived. If you don’t mind, I need to excuse myself, and then I’ll locate her. Thank you.” She dismissed him, and he departed without question, returning to his waiting guests.
Thankfully, she hadn’t taken out her contacts—that Jaynee insisted she wear—after she’d picked up the kids from school yesterday. Jaynee’d said she almost always wore them. Caycee hated contacts and despised how she looked in glasses, so she only wore them when she drove.
She searched the line of booths on the second level of the restaurant until she found Sheila’s platinum hair. She was at a table situated directly across and above where Caycee frequently sat, but strangely, a gentleman was already sitting with her. He was striking and muscular, but trim. She instantly remembered the first time she’d seen Jordan. All the years she’d come here looking for this man and he’d never shown, and now he was sitting with Sheila.
He had perfectly cropped dark hair, strong chin, and the way he held himself, even seated, indicated he had to be either a cop or a marine. If he had a beard, he would be as close to Jordan as she could find. Something struck her as familiar about him, as if she’d met him before, which wasn’t unusual, though, she met thousands of people.
Well, she would meet him soon enough. She would visit the restroom and then head upstairs to see Sheila. If he was still there, she would certainly introduce him.
As she started for the ladies’ room, the man glanced over the railing as if he’d felt her eyes on him. She darted off quickly. For all she knew, he was in on this with Sheila.
***
Corey decided to go to their restaurant. Maybe Caycee would show up with Ben now that they were together.
If not, he would just imagine that she was…that he would finally have enough nerve to approach her. It wouldn’t matter if she was with Ben, he would not miss any more opportunities to make himself known to her.
The host had greeted him politely as always, though, petulantly. It clearly bothered him that Corey never conversed with him, and that he knew not who he was or what he did for a living. He only knew that he arrived every evening about the same time and requested a table on the railing. If a table wasn’t available, he’d wait.
As the host escorted him to a table, Corey saw a familiar face. It wasn’t the first time, of course, he’d seen her hundreds of times, but this was the first time she recognized him.
Sheila glanced up from her martini as he approached, but instead of grimacing as she’d done outside her apartment, she smiled pleasantly. A one-eighty from the previous time they’d talked.
“Well, hello,” he purred, hoping he could flirt his way into gaining information about Ben’s whereabouts. “Fancy meeting you here. Sheila, isn’t it? Are you dining alone?”
“Yes, please, have a seat.” She waved off the Maître d’, and Corey sat across from her. “Since my husband ran off, I figured I should get out. I’m not getting any younger.” She lifted the sleek V-shaped glass to her lips, leaning forward. “I hate this place,” she whispered conspiratorially. “But it’s Caycee’s favorite, so I thought they might show up.” She flicked her eyes around the restaurant, as if she were searching for the couple.
He flashed a smile, knowing it instantly put women at ease. “Were you planning on making a scene?” he teased, lifting a brow as if he were genuinely interested.
“No! I wouldn’t dare dignify them with that type of display. I’ll get mine in court. I’m tired of all these wasted years, trying to get him to notice me. Do you see anything wrong with me?”
Corey started at her remark. He wasn’t expecting it at all, especially since he hadn’t looked at a woman like that for so long. She was pretty, like a thousand other Hollywood women, but she was smart too, a doctor, he seemed to recall. Her head tilted in anticipation of his answer.
“Absolutely nothing at all,” he finally said, remembering he wanted information, and flirting seemed like the best way to get it. “I can’t imagine a husband not being thankful to have a wife who kept herself in such fabulous condition, after being married twenty years.”
It was the truth. He kept himself in tiptop shape, and if he ever married, he would hope his wife would do the same. He’d always wished that wife would be Caycee, and she was thirty-nine and had kept her figure and appearance in excellent shape.
Sheila narrowed her eyes instead of responding with another flirtatious comment, as he’d thought she would. “How did you know we were married twenty years?”
A gaffe, he never messed up; he was proficient at interrogating subjects. He recovered his bearing. “I told you I was at your apartment to speak with your husband. Obviously, I had to do my homework prior to my visit.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You never said why you were at our apartment.”
“I’m not at liberty—” Corey had been glancing around as he always did, the cop in him always cautious, when his sweep of the restaurant stopped short. Caycee stood on the first floor, almost hidden by the darkened hall below that led to the parking garage. “Excuse me for a moment.” He jumped out of his seat and headed downstairs. He would have to make his way through the dining room to cut her off at the restrooms. He’d hidden himself from her for years, and now he was chasing after her. Why? She would think him insane. But he had to see her.
***
Caycee cautiously headed toward the downstairs restroom. When the man with Sheila spotted her, he bolted from his seat as if he knew her, too. So he was in on this with Sheila. What could they have planned? She ran toward the restrooms, her fastest escape. Hopefully he wouldn’t see which way she’d gone and wouldn’t follow her inside.
As she turned the corridor that led to the restrooms, she stopped in her tracks. “Oh! Thank God! I was just—Ouch!” She instantly felt drunk. Her legs wobbled, and she started to collapse within seconds of the shot in her arm. She could see and feel everything, though. The coat as it wrapped around her. The hat as it covered her head. She struggled to free herself, noticing they were leaving the restaurant, but she couldn’t make her muscles respond.
“Caycee?�
�� she heard a man’s desperate voice. He sounded frantic, as if he were looking for her. She attempted to move her lips, but they wouldn’t obey a simple command from her brain.
She saw the man that had been sitting with Sheila upstairs sprint by her. He was the one who’d called her name. How did he know her?
***
Corey stopped in front of the ladies’ room, then made a quick decision. He banged on the door once, yelled, “Police!” and then opened the door. Two older women stood in front of the counter with their hands over their chest, clearly scared to death by his outburst. “Did a woman come in here, dark hair, about this high?” He motioned with his hand to just below his chin. Both women shook their heads, their eyes still bulging. They wouldn’t have had time to think of lying.
He searched the rest of the hall, a storage room, and then the men’s bathroom. Nothing. She’d disappeared.
No, she hadn’t disappeared. People didn’t vanish. He hurried over to the bar area, looked toward the host’s stand, gave a quick glance around the restaurant, and then decided she had to have gone to the garage.
***
Jordan sat in the car resignedly, not wanting to wait, but he didn’t want to spook the woman either. She wouldn’t get past him; he knew that, but what if she knew that, too? What if she decided to leave out the front door? What if she left her vehicle here as a ruse?
He should have called the police, he knew. This was serious. Two people kidnapped. He needed more eyes. How had this woman managed to kidnap two people? Even taken off guard, it didn’t seem likely, and she wasn’t dressed the part. She’d dressed as though she were looking for a date, not a woman bent on exacting revenge.
His instincts were in full swing now; something was off. He shouldn’t have let Caycee go unaccompanied. He watched as a husband led his wife to a nearby vehicle; she’d obviously had too much to drink. He hated the city.
Making his decision, he exited the vehicle and launched himself toward the restaurant. As he reached for the door, it swung open against him.
“Caycee!” a man called frantically.
Jordan stopped dead, looking the man up in down, and then grabbed him. “What happened, where is she?”
The man’s eyes widened, holding his footing under Jordan’s grip, but then he shoved his hands hard against Jordan’s chest, stepping back and planting his feet squarely in a fighter’s stance.
With difficulty, Jordan pulled himself out of his own ready-for-combat position. He had no qualms with this man, other than the fact he was yelling for Caycee.
The man relaxed slightly. “I saw her, but I came downstairs, and she was gone.” His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
Long story, Jordan thought silently and answered with the easiest explanation. “I’m her,” he paused as he struggled for the words, “brother-in-law…Jordan. I’m married to her sister, and you?”
“An old friend, name’s Corey. I’ve been looking for her for days.” Jordan doubted that. Caycee hadn’t mentioned him when he questioned her about any and all acquaintances, but the man seemed genuinely concerned. The man continued, “I’m also a cop. She was reported missing, so I’ve been investigating.”
Jordan took in a breath, silently thanking God there was someone who might be able to help. “I was a cop too, Charlotte-Meck, retired. We were here this evening to see a friend of hers. It’s not Caycee who’s missing, it’s my wife, Jaynee, and this woman claimed to have some information.” Jordan didn’t know why he was telling this man everything, but he felt compelled. “Did you see Caycee go out this door? Because I was watching, and she never came out.”
“No, I was upstairs with a female acquaintance of Caycee’s myself and saw her. I bolted down the stairs, but she disappeared before I could catch up to her.”
Jordan pushed by Corey, making his way into the restaurant. “Who’s the woman, and where is she?”
“Sheila…the wife of her manager,” Corey answered.
Jordan darted for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Corey passed him, walking directly up to Sheila, who was sitting at a table, a glass of wine and salad already in front of her. She definitely hadn’t come prepared to abduct anyone.
“Sheila, I met a friend downstairs. Do you mind?” Jordan noticed Corey was attempting to control the situation. He’d obviously discerned the look in his eyes and figured he needed to diffuse the bomb before it exploded. “Are you expecting company this evening?”
Sheila shook her head minutely. Jordan knew immediately that she had no idea what Corey was speaking of. “No, I told you…I hoped that they would show, but it’s only me. Do you gentlemen want to join me? I must say you’re both very handsome, and I certainly could use the company.”
Jordan didn’t miss the implication in this woman’s voice. This was no homicidal woman; this wasn’t a woman who took her husband and his lover hostage. This was a scorned woman who knew the best way to get back at and over her husband was to go out dressed to kill and find a new man.
“Oh, my God!” Jordan exclaimed. Half of the patrons at the surrounding tables turned to take him in. The couple. “Oh, God! He took her!” He leapt from the table, and Corey followed.
“What couple? Who took who?” Corey asked.
“Don’t you see? He took her! Ben took her,” Jordan screamed as he flew downstairs and raced out to the parking garage, knowing it was too late. Corey followed behind him. Jordan balled his fists, raising them to his head, and screamed. He paced the parking area, realizing there was nothing he could do. He could drive right now, but he would never catch them; he wouldn’t even know which way they’d headed. “I saw them. I saw a man with his arms around his wife. The woman was wearing his jacket and hat. She was drunk, stumbling, and her head was down. I assumed she was someone famous and he didn’t want anyone to recognize her. You saw Caycee, and now she’s gone.”
“Jordan, slow down, why are you here?” Corey mumbled behind him. “And why do you think Ben has Caycee? She ran away with Ben. They left a note for his wife.”
Jordan wheeled on Corey. “My wife,” he roared, “did not leave with Ben. He kidnapped her, thinking she was Caycee. When he found out he had the wrong woman…after Caycee called him, he called back, disguising his voice, acting as if he were Sheila. He wanted us to believe that Sheila had taken both of them. I’m certain he wasn’t actually expecting Sheila to show up here tonight. Now he has both of them!”
Corey contemplated silently, and Jordan was slightly mollified that he might be someone who could assist him. Someone who was clearly calmer than he was right now, who might have access to computers they needed to find Jaynee, and now Caycee as well. How had he allowed this to happen? Pride, that’s how…he’d been too sure of himself.
With a wave of his hand, as if thinking what they needed to do, Corey interrupted Jordan chastising himself, which was good; there’d be plenty of time for that later. Years if he didn’t locate his wife.
“Let’s go talk to Sheila.” Corey turned and walked away, and Jordan followed. He liked this guy already. He reminded him of himself—or, at least how he used to be.
“Oh, good, you’re back,” Sheila said, delighted at the thought, it seemed.
Corey didn’t sit. “Sheila, we need to go. Follow me outside, please,” he ordered.
“But…you can’t…I just—”
“Don’t make a scene, Sheila,” Corey said in a low voice, almost a growl. “You’ve already seen my badge. Let’s go. Jordan, will you handle her tab and meet me downstairs?”
Jordan nodded. Making his way toward the front of the restaurant, he shoved a hundred-dollar bill in the host’s hand. “This should take care of Sheila’s tab,” he said, turning to leave the astonished man.
“Is there a problem, sir?” the man demanded.
Jordan put on his best cop demeanor, leaning into the man’s ear, knowing he wouldn’t want a scene. “Police business. We’re taking it outside, if that’s all right with you?”
“Y
es, yes, of course, that is best,” he agreed, nodding.
Jordan caught up with Corey and Sheila, who were just exiting the restaurant.
“What is this all about?” Sheila shrieked as soon as the doors closed.
Corey answered before Jordan could start interrogating the woman. “I came to your house the other night to see Ben because he is the prime suspect in the disappearance of a woman.”
“Caycee?” she sneered. “She isn’t missing. He didn’t abduct her. They ran off together.”
“It wasn’t Caycee,” Jordan piped in. “It was my wife, Jaynee, her twin, and she didn’t leave with your husband. When he realized he had the wrong woman, he contacted Caycee and offered a swap.” Jordan paused; the woman’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “He pretended to be you, Sheila. He called, acting as though he were you, said that you’d kidnapped Jaynee and Ben, but didn’t want them, that you wanted Caycee.”
“What?” she shouted, her head dropping as she stared into his eyes. “You thought that I—that’s absurd!”
“Caycee came here to see you tonight, to offer herself. Evidently Ben caught her downstairs and has now taken her as well.” Jordan was exasperated. He didn’t want to waste more time; they needed to find him.
Sheila shook her head, still in disbelief. “But why? Why would he kidnap Caycee? They were having an affair.”
Corey responded this time. “They stopped having an affair sixteen years ago. When he went to her several evenings ago, she’d turned him down.”
Jordan suspected there was more to Corey than he let on. He sure seemed to know a lot when Caycee swore she had no friends or boyfriends.
Corey continued, “We think he’s going to try to place this on you. Maybe try to kill one and make off with the other.” Jordan winced, knowing which woman Ben had no interest in. “So he might have been sloppy on purpose, trying to make it look like you did this, knowing no one would suspect you until he’s long gone. We need to see your credit card records to clear you…before he disappears.”
Split Decisions: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Charlotte - Book Two Page 24