“Sorry, no. Because the sun visor is down and he’s in the shadows, I really can’t get a good look at him.”
“Understood. I don’t see any passengers, do you?”
“No. But again, visibility is almost nil.”
“Okay, sit down, buckle up, and hold on.”
He gave her half a minute to wrestle with the seatbelt before pulling a sharp right turn and accelerating. Seconds later, the white truck came around the corner but made no move to catch up. Luke continued on for two more blocks, turned left, and immediately pulled into a driveway on the far side of a big panel truck. After shifting into park and taking his foot off the brake, he leaned down until after he heard the other pickup pass.
Then he straightened and whipped the Ram back out into the street. The other driver hit the brakes momentarily before driving off at a slow and steady speed. After following the white Ford truck until it turned south on Main Street, Luke parked the Ram at the curb.
“Was it him?” Elle asked, straightening in the passenger seat.
“Hell if I know. Odd, though. That wasn’t a normal route to get to the highway from where I first noticed him.”
“Was he behind Sean the whole time?”
“I doubt it or Sean would’ve noticed him like I did. I’ll call Sean and see if he remembers where we picked up the tail.”
“Who else could it be if not the kidnapper?”
“Slow down, woman. Let’s not jump to any conclusions. It could’ve just been someone unfamiliar with Ramona.” He paused when another possibility hit him. “Or someone Carmichael hired to keep an eye on me since he’s convinced I’m hiding you.”
The color faded from her cheeks, and she gulped. “Oh God.”
* * *
Elle could hardly breathe. How could the man who had sworn his love and devotion be doing this? If Richard had hired the man in the white truck to follow Luke and that same truck had been used in her kidnapping, it could mean only one thing: Richard was responsible for her kidnapping.
Her thoughts from last night hit her like a sledgehammer. She splayed her hand over the pain in her chest and blinked back tears. Her inexplicable kidnapping was starting to make sense—in a heartbreaking way. Richard, how could you?
As her fiancé, he had railed at her to quit her job or at least take a position where she was stuck behind a desk all day. He’d claimed his demand was based on his concerns for her safety, not on his stereotypical image of a doting, dutiful wife. Richard had believed her job put her in too much danger, and since it was his job to protect her, he had a right to insist she quit.
But Elle had rejected his arguments, making the case that self-preservation was primarily her responsibility—not his. She loved what she did and had resented Richard’s attempt to take it away from her. So, in the end, she’d also rejected him and ended their engagement.
“Poorly” didn’t do justice to how he’d handled the breakup. Despite his usual obsession with propriety, he’d ranted and raved in public even.
His behavior had been akin to grieving with its many stages: denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. Unfortunately, Richard had never reached the final stage of acceptance. Instead, he’d started over at the beginning. Like yesterday morning, when he had acted like they were still engaged. Denial again. Damn him.
“Elle, what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to be sick,” Luke said.
“I…I think Richard is b-behind my k-kidnapping,” she stammered. “Last night, I realized he has the clearest motive. If this guy who may have been hired to spy on you is the same guy who abducted me, there’s only one person who would have a reason to do both: Richard Carmichael.”
Chapter 13
Elle—” Luke tried to interrupt her. He hadn’t meant to upset her about the white truck. He should stop her before she got too wound up.
“I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t want to believe it. But, dammit, the whole thing makes sense,” she said.
“Hold on now. Your theory seems logical, but would you jump to a conclusion this fast with one of your investigations?”
“Uh, probably not. But that’s different.”
He arched his eyebrows in question.
“This is personal. My…my well-being is at risk. And I sure as hell don’t have to prove this conclusion to an editor with researched and documented facts.”
“No, but you would need evidence for a prosecutor to prove the case in court. Do you have any?”
She huffed. “No. But give me a curling iron, tie Richard up, and leave me alone with him for fifteen minutes, and I bet I can get a confession.”
He grimaced as his balls shriveled. “Jesus, Elle, remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“I don’t have a ‘bad side.’”
“Oookay. Let’s get to Karla’s place and talk this out.”
Ten minutes later, they hurried into his sister’s apartment with the boxes and duffel. She was already at work but had left them a note to make themselves at home.
Luke’s stomach reminded him with a massive rumble that he’d never eaten breakfast. “How about some coffee and cereal?”
“I’ll cook. You get your laptop going,” Elle said, heading for the kitchen.
“You consider pouring cereal to be cooking?” he asked with a straight face.
“Yeees.” She emphasized the single syllable as if daring him to disagree. “What would you call it?”
He thought better of picking a fight. “Food,” he answered safely.
She snorted. “Nice of Karla to let us work here,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Luke retrieved his laptop from the duffel bag and connected to his sister’s Wi-Fi. He pulled up the website for a local TV station, and sure enough, there was a story about Elle’s rescue, including the photograph from the missing person’s bulletin. He knew she hadn’t spoken to the media and neither the Sheriff’s Department nor FBI had held a press conference, so what was the source for the story? Most likely, Richard Carmichael or the Bradleys had been blabbing. He clicked off the website when he heard Elle coming.
She handed him a bowl and cup and then sat down on the couch beside him.
He scowled at the bowl. “What the hell is this stuff? Squirrel food?”
“Organic granola. It’s good for you. Eat it.”
“I don’t eat twigs and seeds.”
“Oh, I understand now. I thought the Fruit Loops in the cupboard were for Karla’s BFF’s little girl, but they’re for you.”
“Nooo.” He dragged out the one syllable as she’d done. “I’m a Wheaties man.”
“Then you’re out of luck, Deputy Helpful. Karla doesn’t have any Wheaties.” Elle swallowed a sip of coffee. “Now let me get busy on your computer.”
While Luke grudgingly ate the twigs and seeds, he watched Elle work on his laptop in between taking bites of her granola. She seemed comfortable and competent even on the unfamiliar computer. But when she typed in her username and password to access the USA Report system, she ran into a snag.
She squinted at the message on the screen. “What does that mean?”
“The system isn’t letting you log in.”
“I can see that, but why doesn’t it just ask my personal security questions?”
“Well, since I don’t work in your IT department, I can only assume the system uses the questions when you’re on your own devices but accessing the system from an unfamiliar IP address. Your employer knows you have to work off-site through different Internet connections, but they don’t want anyone using an unauthorized device to get into the system. I bet there’s a security cookie on your laptop. Obviously, mine doesn’t have it, so the software isn’t going to let this computer access the system, username or no username, password or no password, security questions be damned.”
She cocked her head. “How do you know all this stuff?”
He sighed. “I took a class on cyber security before I had to drop out o
f college. It’s the law enforcement area I want to specialize in…someday.”
The admiration in her eyes felt good.
But then, she frowned. “I don’t get it. When I had to buy a new computer while on vacation in Hawaii, I didn’t have this problem.”
“As I said, I’m just guessing…based on the security protocol I’d recommend. But maybe it’s something as simple as the IT department deactivating your account when you disappeared.”
“Makes sense, but I really don’t want to talk to anyone at work…yet. So, Deputy Helpful, how do I get in?”
“Sorry, ma’am, can’t be much help. Not legally, at least.”
Her eyes widened. “Say what?”
“Unauthorized access would be hacking, which is illegal.”
She leaned in really close, her warm breath caressing his cheek. Her eyes held a conspiratorial glint. “Can you do it?”
He gave her a long, hard look. Then he buried his fingers in her silky hair and gently pressed his lips to her ear. “I can, but I won’t, because then I’d have to…” His tongue teased the curve of her ear before he turned her face back toward him. “Kiss you.”
And he did. Softly at first, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned, he deepened the kiss. Not a good idea, buddy, not good at all. He wanted the damn little voice in his head to shut up, but it wouldn’t. So, after a few more satisfying moments, he broke the kiss. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“I’m not,” she said eagerly and grinned.
Damn, he had to stop this before he got carried away. His male protectiveness was branching out into lust and possessiveness, and from there, things would only get complicated. And he didn’t need any more complications in his life.
Elle was a big-city socialite; he was a small-town hick. She lived in Washington; he lived in Ramona. Not happening, dude. Yeah, definitely time to rein in his physical reaction to her.
When he didn’t respond to her obvious invitation, Elle fussed with her disheveled hair where his fingers had been and wanted to return.
“So, are you seriously not going to hack in for me?” she asked.
“I’m seriously not. Call your folks and have them overnight your laptop to the Ramona station. We’ll give this another try tomorrow with your IT-authorized device. If it still doesn’t work, you can decide if you’re ready to call your company.”
“You’re right. That makes more sense,” she said, all business again. She pulled Karla’s extra cell phone from her pocket.
Elle’s expression tightened as she dialed. Luke couldn’t comprehend the strange relationship she had with her parents. So unlike the one he and Karla had enjoyed with theirs. Yet another way he and Elle were just too damn different.
* * *
“Hello, George. Is Father there?” Elle asked.
“Yes, Miss Elle,” the butler said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m…better. Thank you.”
He lowered his voice. “Are you coming home?”
“Not yet. Is everything all right?”
George cleared his throat. “Your mother is in her element with all the coverage of your kidnapping and escape. The phone calls from the media are nonstop.”
“Big shock. I’ll never understand her obsession with wanting all that attention. And Father?”
“In addition to all the worry surrounding your situation, Mr. Bradley is extremely stressed about his major deal. However, I believe a decision could come any day now, which would resolve the issue.”
She smiled. “Which one of his ‘major’ deals?”
“Oh, as usual, I don’t know any details, but it’s something for his mining company client. He seems unusually anxious about it.”
“A mining company? I wonder if Richard’s father could help.”
“I wouldn’t know, Miss Elle, although they’ve been meeting frequently in Mr. Bradley’s study. But I assumed those discussions were about…um…you and Richard. Let me get your father for you,” George said, ending the conversation abruptly.
Elle searched her memory for a recollection of her father’s mining deal, but nothing came to mind. She didn’t remember him mentioning anything about it when she’d started her investigation into the Bureau of Land Management.
While she waited, the familiar chiming of the grandfather’s clock in the Bradleys’ foyer interrupted her thoughts. The antique clock had originally belonged to her paternal great-grandfather. It never kept accurate time, and the annoyingly loud chimes could be heard throughout the house. But the heirloom was so precious, no one wanted to risk having it fixed.
“Elle, honey, how are you?” her father said in his resounding voice, startling her.
“Better. And before you ask, no, I’m not coming home yet. But I…uh…need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Would you please overnight my laptop to the Ramona Sheriff’s station?” He didn’t answer for several seconds. “Father?”
“Honey, I would if I could get it.”
“The extra key to my condo should be on the key rack.”
“I’m sure it is, but the FBI has your computer.”
“What? Oh no, not the FBI,” she practically squealed. “There’s information from my confidential informants on there.”
Luke gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off.
“I understand, Elle, but they needed to examine your files, e-mails, and online footprint in their attempt to find you. We really couldn’t say no.”
“Well, I’ve been found, so the FBI doesn’t need it anymore. Ask Richard’s father to use his political influence to get my computer back. I need it ASAP.”
“For what?” her father asked so sharply she was taken aback.
“I-I want to review the information I gave the Metro police about my stalkers t-to see if anything coincides with the kidnapper.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure that’s all? You’re not already getting back to work on your USA Report investigations, are you?”
“Hell no. I’m not even thinking about them.”
“I would hope not. What you need to do is come home, young lady.”
She rolled her eyes. “Young lady” was code for you’re in deep shit. “I can’t. Mother would drive me crazy.”
“Now there’s a reason I can understand. But seriously, Elle, you need to take some time off. You shouldn’t be worrying about finding your kidnapper or finishing your investigations. You should be thinking about your future…and Richard.”
“Et tu, Brute?” she said, aghast.
“I’m serious.”
“Me, too.”
He harrumphed like a righteously indignant father. “This experience should teach you it’s not safe to be running around in dangerous neighborhoods, getting information from unsavory characters. Just what Richard has been preaching for months.”
“It’s not safe, period, or it’s not safe for a woman? Or just not for your daughter?”
“Don’t go all feminist on me, Elle,” her father scolded. “You know what I mean, and you know it’s true. Maybe you should be thinking more about marriage and babies than about a Pulitzer.”
She gasped, but before she could make a scathing response, a click on the line announced her mother’s arrival.
“Elle, sweetie, are you coming home today?”
She counted to ten before answering. “No, Mother, I’m still…recovering.”
“Well, I do hope you’ll be home next week because I have appearances lined up at three morning talk shows. They won’t be nearly as effective without you.”
“‘Effective’ meaning…what?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking me, sweetie.”
“Never mind. I know the answer. ‘Effective’ means the publicity will give you a society ratings bump.”
“I-I d-don’t—” Allison Bradley stammered.
“Admit it, Mother. This isn’t about me; it’s about you.” Elle couldn’t stop herself. Years of frustration bu
bbled up. Just once, could her mother put someone else’s needs before her own? Could she be more concerned about her daughter’s well-being than about what the gossip columnists were saying? “Oh, my God, you are so obsessed with the whole society scene.”
“At least I’m not obsessed with something awful like drugs or alcohol or gambling. If social status is my only obsession, I don’t think it’s such a great sin.” Another click signaled her mother’s departure.
“Elle, shame on you. Allison has been worried sick,” her father said.
“About me, you, or herself? About my kidnapping, your mining deal, or her social status?”
An uncomfortable silence followed.
She stifled an unexpected sob and covered her face with her free hand. This age-old ache was the last thing she needed to deal with right now.
Luke wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her temple.
“Sorry, Father,” she murmured. “See? That’s why I can’t come home.”
“Yes, Elle, I see. You’re usually much more tolerant of your mother’s…behavior.” He sighed. “I guess you do need time to decompress and recover. Stay in touch and at least think about what I said. Love you, honey. Bye.”
“Love you, too, Father.”
She disconnected and closed her eyes. “That went well,” she said, snuggling against Luke’s side.
“Yeah, I could tell. Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “God no. I need to get my mind off them by focusing on catching my kidnapper.”
“All right. In a minute.”
His large, warm fingers stroked her hair again and again. Her strained nerves relaxed, and she slowly came back from the edge. Luke’s strength seemed to seep into her, convincing her everything was going to be okay. Gradually, calm and confidence returned.
“I take it the FBI has your laptop,” he said after several minutes.
“Yes.” Despite what she’d just told him, she didn’t want to focus on anything except his fingers in her hair, his strong arm around her, and the comfort he gave her. She cuddled closer.
Kissing the top of her head, he tightened his embrace. “You’re not alone, Elle.”
Only Obsession (Rogue Security Book 3) Page 11