by Alexa Verde
Her heart jumped in her chest when he came back, keys jiggling in his hand. He gestured toward their new mode of transportation, and she dashed to the blue sedan. He did the same, and they took off.
The fluorescent numbers on the dashboard showed ten o’clock. “I guess it’s too late to meet the family I never knew.”
“Too late for today.” He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers for a moment.
As brief as the gesture was, her pulse went into overdrive. She took a calming breath. Her father’s life was on the line, not to mention James’s and her own.
“I know you’re tired. So… hotel or further search?”
Every cell in her body begged for rest. Considering that at least she’d taken some naps and he hadn’t, he must be feeling even worse. As much as she wanted to continue the search, she couldn’t let both of them collapse. “Hotel.”
Back in the connecting room, she said her bedtime prayers. Her head hit the pillow, and she fell into a foggy slumber.
Her last thought before she fell asleep was that if somebody tried to kidnap her tonight, they’d have to carry her out of the room.
Interestingly enough, the one who carried her in his embrace in her dream was James.
* * *
Soledad woke up from the knock on the connecting door.
“It’s me, James.”
“Hold on.” She leaped out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror. With disheveled hair and wrinkly clothes, it wasn’t one of her best looks. But James had told her before that she was beautiful.
“I’m beautiful,” she said and opened the door.
“Good morning. Sorry to wake you up.” He strode inside. With slightly damp hair and clean shaven, he looked impeccable, making her pulse increase. So not fair.
“Give me a few minutes.” She ducked inside the bathroom.
Quickly, she brushed her teeth and her hair and washed her face. She touched her lips with the pink lipstick. Well, that would have to do.
She dashed out of the bathroom. “I’m ready.”
“You’re the only woman I know who can get ready in five minutes.” He opened the door and scanned the hall. “And I like it.”
They headed to Flor Dove’s place. Soledad paid close attention to the rearview mirror. But so far, the black van didn’t make a reappearance, and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
A twinge in her heart reminded her this was the third day of their search. It was do or die, literally.
Flor Dove turned out to be a frail woman in her late eighties, hard of hearing. After James almost losing his voice, Soledad came to the conclusion Flor Dove hadn’t received any strange packages, either. They headed to Flor Crane, James changing lanes rapidly.
Soledad caught herself pushing on imaginary brakes.
“Don’t worry. I’m a great driver,” he said, as if noticing her involuntary movement. His voice sounded a little hoarse, probably due to the conversation with the old lady. How had he become so attuned to her, in a matter of several days?
She smiled sheepishly. “Oops. I’m just used to small-town traffic. Yeah, I know. Look at the bright side. In such traffic, nobody is going to shoot at us.”
Minutes later, they knocked on the burgundy door of a one-story red-brick building. A five-year-old girl in a purple dress opened the door.
“Are you Flor Crane, sweetie?” Soledad asked.
“No. My grandma is.”
James groaned. “I don’t have enough voice left to talk to another hard-of-hearing woman,” he whispered.
“Can we talk to your grandma?” Soledad squatted in front of the girl.
A tall, frowning woman appeared in the doorframe. “She’s not here. What is this about?”
Giving her a most charming smile, James stepped forward. “We’re looking for a person she might’ve known.” He showed her his Texas PI license. “Maybe we can return when she’s back?”
The woman shook her head. “She left for Alaska two months ago. Last we talked, she wasn’t coming back any time soon.”
Soledad’s shoulders slumped forward. “Thank you for your time.”
“What exactly is she doing in Alaska?” James asked.
“Fishing salmon.” The woman wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I have a tough mom.”
The next two Flors, a fifteen-year-old Flor Orlova and a thirty-something Flor Sparrow, didn’t recognize the picture of Sergey Eliseev, either, and hadn’t received any strange packages.
“Flor Nightingale next,” Soledad said when they were back in the car.
She looked up the address on the Internet. As he drove out onto the highway, she researched Flor Nightingale online, something she should’ve done with the other Flors, as well.
When she was done, she lifted her head, hope blooming inside her. “Guess what? On one social networking site, I found that Flor Nightingale works as a manager at a French restaurant. Funny thing, I’d called that restaurant, asking for Flor, but I guess whoever picked up didn’t know the manager’s first name. On another site, there’s a profile picture of Flor Nightingale. I’ve sent a friend request to see more pictures, but maybe the profile picture is enough.”
“Why?” He made a turn to the right.
“Because it has a dog in it. But that’s not all. I found the photo of her house. It has a statue of a garden frog in front of it. Maybe it’s a clue for the fairy tale Princess Frog. How long will it take us to get to her house?”
“Regularly, about twenty minutes. With my driving, about ten.”
She punched in Lydia’s number on her throwaway phone.
“I’m so glad you called!” Lydia answered quickly. “Are you okay?”
A warm wave of gratitude spread inside her at her friend’s concern. She was also relieved not to hear any tears in Lydia’s voice this time. “I’m fine. That was the same question I was going to ask you.” She hesitated, eager to know Aidan’s condition but not sure how the question would affect her friend.
“I’m okay. Aidan is much better, too. Mari is here with me. She wants to talk to you, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Are you crazy? Why didn’t you tell me you were in danger?” Mari’s voice was so loud that Soledad had to put the receiver farther from her ear to save her eardrums.
“The best help you can give me right now is praying for me and James.”
“Yes, but—”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your honeymoon,” Soledad said. “And I have James helping me.”
“O-okay. Big hello to James, and I want to know all the details when you’re back. And make sure you make it back!” The volume of Mari’s voice subsided somewhat. “I also need to pass you some information. Mr. Austin had lunch at The Café today, as usual. He said he’d tried to reach you by phone, but you were not answering. You were also not home when he went by, or at the library. He knows we’re close friends, so he gave me the thank-you card he said you were looking for.”
Soledad’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. “Send me the picture.”
“If you need me to be there for you, just say the word. Stay alive, you hear that?” Mari’s voice dipped.
“Pray for us, please,” Soledad said.
She kept quiet for a moment after hanging up. The Danger Girls were such a blessing.
A ping from her phone announced an incoming text. She opened it and studied the photos. The first picture had a card with a flower and a bird in it. While she was no specialist, she figured the bird looked like a nightingale.
The second photo had the inside of the card. Eagerly, she read the cursive writing.
“Dear Austin! Thank you so much for great service. If you need references for other customers, please find me in Austin. Liam Falcon.” A small drawing of a frog was at the bottom of the page.
She told James about the card as he took a turn to a small neighborhood. So her father probably had left multiple clues, all leading to the same woman.
&
nbsp; Excitement bubbled inside her. “We might be close.”
* * *
When they parked in front of Nightingale’s home, Soledad’s excitement deflated. There was no car in the driveway. James knocked, repeatedly, but nobody answered.
They returned to the car, and he sent her a concerned gaze. “We’ll call the restaurant. And we’ll come back here. We’ll find her.”
She found the restaurant where Nightingale worked on the Internet while James was driving. But when Soledad called it, she was told it was Ms. Nightingale’s day off.
“Let’s go there regardless. Maybe somebody there knows where she can be found,” he said.
For several minutes, Soledad studied the thank-you card on her phone, then pulled up the fairy tales on the Internet. Was she on the right track? A loud honk made her look up. Judging by that and the small distance to the car in front of them, James had just cut somebody off.
“What’s going on?” She frowned.
His fingers were tight around the steering wheel. “I’m trying to lose the silver-gray sedan.”
She dared a glance back. The silver-gray sedan was three cars behind them. Then it was in the right lane, just one car behind.
“Hold on tight.” Unexpectedly, James flew several lanes to the left, barely making it to the exit. He went through the underpass, and then it was a dizzying mixture of turns and dashes through the streets of Austin again.
When they finally stopped near a small gas station, she felt as if all the fight was taken out of her. “Do you think you lost them?” She looked in the rearview mirror, relieved not to see the silver-gray car.
“I think so. But driving this vehicle is becoming too dangerous. We need to switch cars again.” He paused.
It was her turn to find somebody to trade a vehicle, with no questions asked. “I’ll call Lydia. Her grandma has many friends in Austin back from her time in the military.” Soledad punched in Lydia’s number and pushed the call button.
“Then you must have a great friend.”
“I do.”
She talked to Lydia, and soon they were in a well-off neighborhood with freshly cut lawns, spacious stone and stucco homes, and a sign, “Neighborhood watch,” at the entrance. They pulled up to a two-story stucco house with a large birdbath on the front lawn.
According to the instructions she’d received, Soledad found a key under the doormat and a maroon-colored van outside of the garage. She handed the key to James and climbed into the passenger seat, breathing in the scent of apple car freshener.
The trip to the French restaurant didn’t result in any useful information, though they did get a quick breakfast of coffee and croissants.
“Let’s try Nightingale’s house again,” he said when they were on the road.
“Okay. We only have several hours left.” A chill ran down her back. “You don’t think something happened to her, do you?”
“I hope not.”
About ten minutes later, they were at Nightingale’s address again. A small blue car was underneath the carport, so maybe the owner was at home now. They hurried to the entrance, and James knocked. Silence stretched for a long moment but was replaced soon by the sound of hurried steps. Soledad breathed out a sigh of relief. The door opened.
Flor Nightingale had a cute, upturned nose, a bob of blonde hair, and massive turquoise earrings that overshadowed her petite figure.
James gave his charming smile, showed his Texas PI license, and made introductions in a sweet, honey-coated voice. And just like that, they were invited inside the house. Soledad waited for a sting of jealousy but none came. Had she learned to trust him?
Nightingale’s place smelled of lemon-scented chemicals, as if it had been freshly cleaned.
“Please don’t be surprised by our question. We have a reason for inquiring. Did you receive anything from somebody by the name Liam Falcon in recent days?” he asked as they were seated on a plush sofa.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” the young woman said, looking at James, as if Soledad didn’t exist, and now it irked Soledad a little. “It surprised me a lot, because I don’t know any Liam Falcon.”
“What was it?” He leaned forward.
“A small parcel with just one thing inside.” Flor smiled at James, showing a row of pearl-white teeth good enough for a toothpaste commercial.
There was a pause.
“And that thing was?” Soledad prompted.
“A key to a deposit box. Oh, I was wrong. There was something else inside, too. A card with a bank’s address and the number 537 written on the back of the card. I drove to the bank. But I was told they couldn’t allow me to access the box because my name wasn’t on the account. I asked to talk to the manager. The manager said I should direct all questions to either the owner, Sergey Eliseev, or his attorney. Neither one returned my calls. But you know what the most interesting thing is?”
“What?” James and Soledad asked in unison.
“The manager admitted the key didn’t even look like the ones they are using.”
“Could we please have the address of the bank and the name of the manager you talked to?” James asked.
Flor got up, scribbled something on a piece of paper, and handed the note to him. “When I tried to send the parcel back, the post-office clerk told me that the return address didn’t exist. Do you know anything about it?”
“Thank you for your time. You were very helpful.” He flashed her a smile.
Before Nightingale could ask more questions, they said good-bye and left.
Soledad’s heart was beating fast as she stepped outside. They were so close to finding the treasure she could taste it. But surprisingly, gratitude and excitement battled a regret inside her. Of course, she wanted to help her father with every fiber of her being.
But wouldn’t the end of the search mean the end of her short relationship with James?
And when he left, he’d take her heart with him, too.
* * *
James scanned the street before tucking Soledad behind him and making a quick dash to the car.
Her eyes were troubled, but she didn’t say anything when he held the door for her. She climbed inside the car, and he rushed around the vehicle, jumped inside, and took off.
He said a silent prayer for Sergey’s and Soledad’s safety. And then he prayed for a chance with her. The prayer gave him hope and a sense of peace he’d been missing for many years.
He took a turn in the quiet neighborhood, intending to get on the highway. They should be at the bank in about fifteen minutes.
Hopefully, the deposit box contained the Fabergé egg so they could somehow exchange it for Sergey. But instead of feeling victorious, he felt deflated. Soon he and Soledad would go their separate ways. She wouldn’t need him anymore. And he… needed her. The thought grabbed him by the throat. He’d fallen for her.
The woman who’d helped him regain faith.
The woman who hadn’t hesitated to risk her life for a person she’d just met.
The smart, beautiful, courageous woman who’d made him question his choice of a commitment-free life.
He couldn’t imagine leaving her. He wanted to help her spread her wings, to treat her the way she deserved to be treated, to tell her every day how amazing she was. He’d never felt this way for anyone, not even Melissa.
But what did she feel for him?
A gunshot split the air. The van skidded to the right. He eased up on the gas and struggled to keep the vehicle on the road, but it shook violently, the steering wheel jumping in his hands. Probably the tire was blown up.
One thought pulsed in his head. Keep Soledad alive.
Somehow, he managed to stay the course and slow down. Another gunshot went off, and the remaining tires screeched. His gut coiled. The vehicle was out of control now. He went off the road, thankfully moving at a much lower speed than before. A large tree loomed ahead.
No time to bring the van to a complete stop. No way to avoid hitting the tr
ee. His heart filled with dread.
With an enormous effort, he turned to the right so that his side would take the hit instead of Soledad’s.
His last thought was that he had so much to tell her, and he’d wasted the three days they’d had together.
Chapter Twelve
James lifted his head as he came to. Where was he? He fought through the mental fog. The room was dimly lit and smelled of dampness. Definitely not the hospital. Had they been captured? What had happened to Soledad?
Worry for her knifed through him.
His vision blurry, he had to wait for a moment until it cleared. The cold surface beneath him and against his back hinted at him being slumped against the wall. He attempted to move his fingers and toes and was relieved when they responded. To his surprise, they were not tied.
His chest hurt a lot, and he probably had some bruises. But he didn’t seem to have any major injuries from the accident. Maybe not even broken bones. He took a deep breath, and a sharp pain erupted inside. Scratch that. Most likely, he had a couple broken ribs.
The room came into focus slowly. The first thing he noticed was a pale Soledad, tied to a chair, her long hair tangled, her head hanging. His heart ached for her. He struggled to grasp on to something reassuring. No blood was visible on her clothes, and she seemed not to have been hurt by the vehicle going off the road.
His focus shifted to the figure in the chair near her. Sergey looked much worse for the wear than his daughter, with caked blood and bruises on his face and body signifying continuous beatings. James bottled down the rage inside him. If he couldn’t think straight, it wouldn’t do them any good.
Fighting dizziness, he moved his head. Two men in dark clothing, with guns drawn, hung back, staying in the shadows. His gut twisted. The situation was worse than he’d thought. A strange feeling nagged at him. Even though he couldn’t see their faces, one of the figures looked familiar. He shifted slightly along the wall.