by A. M. Wilson
The device is taken away. I’m tempted to snatch it back.
“Dani won’t be touched if I go with you?”
“One phone call from me and the sniper walks away with Dani unharmed and never knowing how close to death she was.”
I’ve already made the decision in my head. Dani’s love for me may have dried up and turned to hate, but I never stopped loving the woman who stole my heart as a teenager. I don’t know how Bolt found out, but she knows what Dani means to me. She knows she’s got me by the balls and can do anything to me because if there’s any way I can spare Dani, I’ll do it. Even if it means sacrificing my own life.
I look at Bolt and the twisted expression on her face and know that’s what I’ll be doing. I won’t be coming back if I leave with her unless it’s in a body bag. I don’t know what I did to the woman or why she wants me, but there’s no doubt in my mind what the outcome will be.
I think about Niko and the devastation he’ll feel when he realizes I’ve been taken. I briefly wonder if he’ll put in the same effort to find me as he did with finding Aislin. I pray he doesn’t. Niko’s been through enough in his life to waste any more time looking for a person who, I suspect this Bolt person, won’t let be found.
Leaving my thoughts behind, I focus my gaze back on Bolt. She’s a small woman. If given the opportunity, I could take her out with barely lifting a finger. I just have to wait until I know Dani is safe.
“I’m not leaving until I know she’s safe,” I tell her.
“You're not the one making the rules. Once I have you in my car, I’ll make the call. Until then, time is ticking down. I’d say you have less than a minute left.”
Gritting my teeth, I grind out. “Fine. Let’s go.”
With another sickeningly satisfied grin, she gets up from the stool. After she puts the iPad back in her jacket pocket, she picks up her gun, using the barrel to gesture toward the living room.
“Gentleman first.”
I feel like I’m walking on fucking death row with each step I take toward the front door.
“What’s the code?” she asks just as I reach for the doorknob, washing my last hope down the drain. It would have taken time for the cops to get here if the alarm went off to find me missing, but it wouldn’t have taken as long as me not showing up for work in the morning before the guys became suspicious and stopped by the house.
I call out the code, and a moment later, there’s a beep, indicating the alarm is off. Bolt pokes me in the back with the barrel of the gun, and I open the door. She walks beside me with the gun sticking out of her jacket pointed at me. A couple of houses down, we stop at a nondescript car.
“Hands behind your back.”
I do as she says and feel the cold metal of handcuffs wrap around my wrists. Opening the back door, she pushes me inside and closes it. She gets in the front seat and starts the engine.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I grit out between clenched teeth.
She turns in her seat, a salacious grin curving her lips. “Oh, yeah.”
Before I can react, she holds up another gun, this one different from the one she had in the house, and pulls the trigger. A piercing pain hits my neck, and within seconds, I become drowsy.
Just before I slump over in my seat, I hear a cackle, then Bolt saying, “Sweet dreams, Reece.”
11
Dani
The phone on my desk rings. Without taking my eyes from my computer screen, I reach out a hand and answer on the first ring.
“Detective Lawrence.”
“My office. Now.” Captain Morgan grinds out the order before hanging up. The sound of a dial tone knocks me from my shock and has me hopping out of my chair.
I haven’t been here long enough to fuck anything up. The next thought brings dread. There could be news about Tavers and his wife. I hasten my steps as I round the short hall leading to his office.
Before I can raise my fist, his voice sounds from the other side of the closed door. “Come in.”
A chill races up my arms as I enter the small space, and I straighten my shoulders to hide any indication of nerves.
“You wanted to see me?” I shove the door closed behind me, twisting the knob to soften the sound.
He throws his hand out, palm up, and gestures at the cushioned chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
The calm quality of his gritty tone sets me on edge. I’d prefer yelling to this suspenseful build-up. I’m tempted to ask him to get on with it, but this is my superior. One I already respect from his highly regarded reputation.
“I’m going to cut right to it. Reece James was reported missing this morning by his coworker Jonas Hart.”
As a pit opens in my stomach, Captain Morgan continues without realizing how one sentence sent my world topsy-turvy.
“Mr. Hart called to report that after Reece failed to arrive on time for work this morning and didn’t answer his phone, he drove to the James residence to find it empty, but the primary vehicle was in the driveway. Mr. Hart reports this is out of character and a reason for concern, and being familiar with the James family, I quite agree.”
Images of Reece injured or being forced somewhere at gunpoint flit through my head to the point bile rises into my esophagus. I choke it down in order to speak. “Are you suspecting foul play?”
“I want him found, and I’m going to use every resource to do it. Until we can prove that his stalker was harmless kids or in no way connected to his disappearance, we’re moving forward as if the person sending the nasty packages and responsible for the break-in is the culprit.”
“Damnit, this person moved fast. Usually, the stalker completes a few more escalating acts of intimidation before making a move like this.”
Captain cups his chin and moves his index finger across his mouth. “Something must have tipped them off to make a move. I want you back at his house, combing whatever you can get your hands on.”
Missing persons cases are tricky. Every individual in this country has the right to disappear if they so choose, no matter if their family and friends fear for their safety. We’re lucky Reece filed the report about his stalker when he did. It allows us to use more resources if we believe his life is in danger and he didn’t just choose to wander off the grid. On that same thread, his stalker clearly has an agenda and is dangerous.
And we don’t know what that is yet.
“Take Barns with you,” Captain orders, pulling me from my thoughts. He stretches out a folder over his desk, and I take it from his grasp. “Contact information for Mr. Hart and the rest of their work crew. You can start interviewing them for any leads and places he visits after work. Be sure to ask about any women he’s been with. There could be a pissed-off husband out there.”
In a matter of a few weeks, I’ve dealt with the feelings of moving back to my hometown and running into the man who I hate, to having to pry into that man’s private life and find out who he’s been sleeping with, all the while pretending that knowledge means absolutely nothing to me and the crumpled organ he destroyed decades ago.
“Will do. Anything else?” My curt response doesn’t hide that I’m ready to get out of here, though I hope he mistakes my haste for eagerness to get started.
His dark eyes lock with mine. “I’m counting on you. I’m about to pick up this phone and inform his brother who lives in Florida of the situation, and it’s not a call I look forward to making.”
“Understood.”
As I rise from my seat, Captain also stands.
“Make no mistake. Your future success here in Westbridge rides solely on this case.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Yes, sir.”
My gut aches like it went head-to-head with a sledgehammer. I’m tempted to curl around myself as if that’ll ease the sinking feeling. I waste no time doing as ordered and setting down a path I never imagined I’d be taking.
Reece James—the man I once thought of as my happily ever after, the man I
once believed would make me his, the same man who ruined me for all others—is believed to be in mortal danger.
And I have to take all that history, smash it into a tiny semblance of what it is, and force it into a box in my brain in order to help him.
Within minutes, Barns is briefed and drives us to Reece’s house. The ten-minute trip is spent in silence as I think back to last night. After spending the evening taking care of household chores for my parents and making them a warm meal, I spent the later hours lounged in bed and binge-watching a new historical romance series on Netflix. Between episodes, I mentally prepared myself for moving forward with Reece’s case and expected today to be a good one.
Boy, was I wrong about that.
As Barns pulls our car to a stop at the curb, I flick my gaze to the house I stopped by not long ago. If I had known what I know now, I would have stopped on the porch and taken a long look at the man who I loathe and hurt for all at once.
“You good?” My partner’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
“Let’s check the residence before anything has a chance to be disturbed. That must be Jonas.” I jerk my head toward the driveway to indicate the man standing beside a dusty maroon Chevy parked beside Reece’s black Dodge Ram. “You check the perimeter, and I’ll speak to Jonas.”
“Got it.” Barns exits at the same time as me.
The tall man heads my way as soon as he sees me approaching him. We meet halfway. He extends his hand for a shake, which I politely reciprocate. Jonas appears around six-two, muscular, and besides what his dusty clothes may suggest, very handsome with sandy blond hair and stormy gray eyes that match the sky today.
“Hey, I’m Jonas Hart.”
“You made the call this morning to report Mr. James missing from work, is that correct?”
He nods and glances at his boots. “I’ve known him for over a decade, and he’s never missed a day without notifying me first, and even then, it’s rare. We co-own the company.”
I pull a notepad from my pocket. “Start from when you last spoke to Mr. James until now. Run it down for me.”
“Spoke to him yesterday afternoon. All was normal. We’re getting to the end of a job, so we discussed what’s coming up next. This morning, I got to the site around five forty-five. When he didn’t show up by six, I called his cell a few times. When the rest of the crew began to arrive, I asked each guy if they’d spoken to him. Nobody had. I gave him until eight to either answer or show up before I went looking for him. I got our crew to work and made the drive here. His truck’s in the drive, but he didn’t answer the door.”
“Did you enter the residence?” I ask as I jot his timeline down.
“No, ma’am. Thought it’d be best to wait for the police.”
I nod. “Good. We’ll take a look around here. If you hear anything, here’s my information.” I grab a business card from my pocket and extend it between us. He takes it without hesitation and scans the information with a slight furrow to his brow.
“Sure hope to hear good news from you soon, Detective Lawrence. Reece is a good friend of mine.” His eyes shine with concern when he looks at me again.
I smile tightly. “He’s an old friend of mine too.”
“Wait a sec. You aren’t the girl who threw that beer in his face, are you?”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. I adjust my smile to be more friendly. “That doesn’t sound like me, but I would have liked to see it.”
He cracks an easy grin and thankfully drops it. Lifting the card in the air in a salute, he turns to his truck. “I’ll call if I hear anything.”
I give him a short wave as he backs out before I turn to find Barns. Just as I hit the steps to the front porch, he comes around the back of the house.
“Anything?”
He shakes his head. “Nada. I can see disturbance on the ground around the rear window to the lower level, but that’s most likely from the break-in and the repair. We can have the frame dusted again, but I doubt we’ll find anything. How’d the interview go?”
“As informative as the Captain’s version. He last spoke to Mr. James yesterday and sounded the alarm when he didn’t show up at work this morning.”
Barns gestures with his head to the front door. “You try it yet?”
“Not yet.” I climb the last step and slip a pair of gloves out of my pocket, tugging them on before opening the screen door.
Initial inspection of the space comes up empty.
“I don’t see anything like a forced entry.” The frame and edges are all intact minus a few scuffs from normal wear and tear. I grasp the silver knob, and it easily turns. “Unlocked,” I announce over my shoulder. I glance behind me just as Barns pulls on his own pair of gloves.
He knocks sharply on the heavy wooden door with one hand while the other rests on the butt of his gun. “Police! Welfare check!”
Silence greets us. With a simple twist, I open the door, and we let ourselves in. Senses hit high alert. I find myself scanning every visible inch of space available to me while I’m taking in the scent of the room. I’m hyper aware of any sounds. I remember the way it looks, having just been here, and the living room before me is empty. As I turn to issue instructions to Barns, the panel beside the door catches my eye.
“Looks like the alarm was left unarmed. That could mean he’s still here or that he had to leave in a hurry.”
“I’ll take the hallway to the back of the house. You check the front and find the door to the basement,” Barns instructs.
We split up and move efficiently through the space. My gut tells me he isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do my job and search thoroughly. The basement door is easy enough to find, just off the front near the kitchen. I sweep the dining area and mudroom, making a pass to the garage, but come up empty.
The kitchen contains the first sign of anything amiss. The makings of a sandwich in progress litter the counter. An open loaf of bread, deli meat, leaf lettuce, and a ripe tomato sit beside a bread knife. By the browning edges, these have been sitting out for hours. Whatever reason Reece left, or whoever forced him to leave, did so in a hurry. Reece’s cell phone is next to the knife.
Beneath the window next to the items are two business cards. One I recognize as my own. A part of me is relieved to see he held onto it and was taking his case seriously. The other part is anxious that my information was right there and he didn’t, or couldn’t, call. The second white card only has a name, Celina Browers, and a phone number embossed on the front. With nothing else to go on, I dig out my cell and punch in the numbers.
“I’m sorry. The number you have reached is no longer in service.”
Dammit. I set the card back down to finish my sweep. I’ll make sure it’s logged into evidence once the house is cleared.
The last place to search is the basement. Without waiting for Barns, I open the door and begin my descent down the creaky wooden staircase.
As far as basements go, this one isn’t too bad. It’s clear Reece uses the space occasionally and, therefore, keeps it from becoming too stereotypical and creepy. A simple switch controls adequate lighting, and the egress windows allow natural light to filter inside. Because of the overcast day, it’s a bit dim, but that doesn’t detract from the coziness of the space.
Just beyond the staircase, I find a bench, a squat rack, and weights. It eerily mimics my own home gym setup. I never liked sharing space with other sweaty people, and finding the time to exercise after a long workday was tough. The convenience of working out in my own home is much more appealing. It would seem Reece shares a similar philosophy in his line of work.
I recognize the space on the other side of the room from the photographs in his case file, except the window has been fully repaired. The space doesn’t hold any areas for someone to hide, so after a scan of the lingering shadows, I make my approach and notice the lock on the inside. As I inspect the frame, the creak of the staircase alerts me to Barns.
“Anything?”
he calls, announcing his presence.
“Nope. He’s repaired this window, and it’s locked from the inside. Nothing appears damaged. No sign of him either.”
“I’ll get a tech out here to dust the outside of the window again and around the front door, but besides that, we don’t have much to go on.”
“The kitchen looks as if he was making lunch or early dinner when he was interrupted. His cell phone and a strange business card are there.” I glance at my black shoes. “We have contacts we can interview, along with the neighbors. It’s a start at least.”
The sudden grip on my shoulder sends my pulse sky high.
“Don’t touch me,” I order as I shrug from beneath his grip.
He raises both palms in surrender. “I’m sorry. Truly. It seemed like this case is stressing you out, and I just wanted to offer a hand.”
I lift my chin. “I may be a woman, but that doesn’t mean I get all weepy at the first sign of stress. I completed the same training as you.”
The downturn of his lips and the crease in his brow relay his regret. “Again, I’m sorry. I have three sisters. It was habit.”
“Okay.” Without another word, I brush by him and up the stairs.
We spend the next hour interviewing neighbors but come up with nothing. Most aren’t home, as it’s the middle of the workday, so we decide to try again this evening. Our trip back to the station is in silence. He might have apologized, and maybe I overreacted a touch, but I have nothing else to say. My mind swirls with thoughts of Reece. Of wondering if he’s alone and injured.
As much as my knowledge of the old Reece contradicts the idea, it’s possible his stalker became too much and he chose to go off the grid in the hopes the person would stop. The part that doesn’t sit right is knowing he’d never disappear without talking to his family. At least, the Reece I knew wouldn’t have wanted to worry them. For all I know, he could be an asshole now.
That’s exactly the side he showed me all those years ago, and I doubt much has changed.