Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  If she’d brained him with that bat she held in her hands last night, he couldn’t look more stunned. Served him right for leaping to conclusions. She was on a roll and not about to back off.

  Laurel marched up to him and poked a finger into his breastbone. “I never finished that first year of college because a narcissistic shark who thought his money could buy me body, soul and spirit conned my starry-eyed younger self into believing he was my knight in shining armor. I never got to go back to school until after the divorce, and I did it on my own—with God’s grace, and not a dime of his filthy lucre.”

  “But—”

  She jabbed his breastbone again. “You think I’m wearing a tattoo under this sweater?” She yanked the neck down to expose her collarbone. “Never had a tat. Never plan to get one. Satisfied?”

  David’s gaze rolled upward, then down and captured hers. “Thank You, Jesus!”

  Joy burst across his face, but then she couldn’t see his expression because her nose was mashed up against his shoulder. Powerful arms wrapped her close. Her body ached to relax into the embrace, but she stood stiff. Stunned and energized at the same time. Did she even know how to let a man hold her?

  “I was petrified!” His breath ruffled the hair by her ear. “Thinking you might be one of the Talons hurt so bad I thought it might kill me. I’m so glad. So thankful.”

  Laurel wriggled against him, and he released her. She stepped back, wary gaze fixed on him. “I’m glad you’re glad, but I’m confused. And I’m still angry that you thought for one moment that I could be a part of this…this…whatever it is.”

  David backpedaled to one of the easy chairs and plopped into it. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you what I found out about the tattoos.” He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving the thick waves in pleasing disarray. “Apparently someone else also knows the significance of these tats, and he must have come to the same conclusion about your involvement as I did. A big, black bird of prey was let loose in your house last night. It’s not much of a leap of logic to think the creature was a raven.”

  The awful sense of David’s statements struck Laurel, and she sank into the chair opposite his. “I can see how easily carrying out a pact such as you’re describing could make bitter enemies. If someone has it in for these Talon women, that person might be responsible for the deaths of Alicia Gonzales and Melissa Eldon.”

  “Bingo.” David jerked a nod. “Last night I located the tattoo artist who painted all five of the co-eds. He remembers the incident vividly. These five raving beauties descended on his shop demanding identical tats, except for the type of jewel held in each set of talons. From chatter between the ladies while he was doing the work, he pieced together the gist of this pact and the arrogant name they called their little clique. He told me that if he hadn’t needed the cash, he would have booted their shapely bottoms out onto the street.”

  Laurel leaned forward. “Why would anyone think I was a part of this? Why did you?”

  “Who you married—an obscenely wealthy man. Where you started school—the city anyway. And what you look like.”

  “What I look like?”

  “The participants were one Nordic Amazon with blue eyes—”

  “Melissa.” Laurel nodded.

  “One Hispanic bombshell with ebony hair and eyes—”

  “Alicia.”

  “A willowy redhead with green eyes, a statuesque brunette with amber eyes and a petite heart-stealer with honey blond hair and enormous brown eyes.”

  “Me?” Laurel poked a thumb at herself. “I’ve never thought of myself as a heart-stealer.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Trust me, you are.”

  She warmed beneath David’s grin and looked away, gnawing her lower lip. “Steven’s second wife—the woman he replaced me with—looked enough like me to be my sister. And she had a tattoo right where you described. I met her once and caught a glimpse of ink. Just not enough to make out the design.”

  David breathed out a low whistle. “Somebody got his wires crossed between the two of you. The golden blonde and the one with coal black hair are already dead. The honey blonde—who our killer thinks is you—is under attack. I wonder where the brunette and redhead are, or if they’re dead, too.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I wonder if they’re dead—”

  “No, you listed the hair colors. Golden blonde, black, honey blonde, brunette and redhead. I had five china figurines with exactly those shades of hair. And the eye colors matched your descriptions of these women.”

  David nodded. “I remember picking up the pieces of those figurines, but I didn’t notice what all the hair and eye colors were. Caroline told me you got those figurines as a gift from—”

  “Janice!” Laurel finished David’s sentence, then hit her knees on the carpet and grabbed his hands. “Janice is a redhead. She colors her hair chestnut, because she says the red is too vivid for some of her stuffy, high-end clients. And she’s got a scar right here.” She patted beneath her collar bone. “It’s faint, but it shows up in the summer when she tans in her bathing suit. It’s the kind of scar you’d get from having a tattoo removed.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “Was Kurt one of those humble millionaires who preferred to live in a middle-class neighborhood?”

  “Hardly.” Laurel laughed. “Kurt was a regular working guy, not even that good-looking, but he and Janice loved each other deeply. Kurt wasn’t her first husband, though. She had a nightmare of a marriage to a rich, older man who cheated on her constantly and then divorced her without a dime or a backward look.”

  Laurel rocked back on her heels. A shiver coursed through her, and she let out a moan. “I can’t believe this. My best friend is a Talon!”

  David dropped to his knees in front of her and gripped her upper arms. “Worse. Could she be the one eliminating the other Talons?”

  “No!” Laurel shook her head and broke free of him. “She knows I’m not a Talon.”

  “If she’s still in possession of her sanity. Who knows what happens in people’s minds when they go homicidal.”

  “I don’t buy it, David.” Laurel rose. “She was out of the country when Alicia was murdered.”

  He snorted. “Wonderful alibi, don’t you think? Isn’t it odd she hasn’t mentioned knowing Melissa Eldon?”

  “It’s not that odd if she wanted her past to remain in the past. Why would she think Melissa’s death would have any connection to some co-ed foolishness from ten years ago?”

  “Merely stating that she knew the woman in college would hardly be incriminating, but she didn’t say a word.”

  Laurel frowned. Was she being stubborn? Refusing to see the truth? But she owed Janice so much. The woman had been there for her and Caroline through every hard knock of life. They’d told each other secrets about themselves no one else knew—except for this glaring omission. The Talon business was pretty huge to leave out.

  “Yes, I have doubts,” she said. “But I’m not ready to condemn her. In fact, she could be in danger if someone really is targeting the Talons.”

  “Where is she? And where’s Caroline?”

  “Oh, no!” Laurel’s pulse stalled.

  “What?”

  “I knew you were headed our way with a bone to pick, and I didn’t want her or Caroline to be here. When Janice suggested we go out for breakfast this morning, I told the two of them to go on without me. Didn’t even mention you were coming. Janice said she was going to take Caroline with her to a house showing after they ate.”

  Laurel looked at her watch. “They’ve been gone nearly three hours. They should be back by now.”

  She grabbed her cell phone from a side table. The call rang until it went to voice mail. Laurel’s stomach turned at Janice’s perky message. Could this woman she thought she knew actually be a calculating manipulator? That wasn’t the Janice Laurel knew…or thought she knew. If Janice’s best friend act had been just that—an act—had Laurel sent her daughter off t
o breakfast with a killer?

  “Let’s check Janice’s office,” she said, laying her phone on the small table. “Maybe we can find out something that will tell us where they went for the house showing.”

  “Lead the way.”

  They skirted the kitchen, went up the hall and then turned a corner through French doors into a spacious office. All the tools of a business were there—fax machine, copier, printer and a large desk that served as home to a landline, a computer and numerous file folders, forms and assorted glossy fliers.

  “Does she have an appointment calendar?” David asked.

  “It would be on her computer as well as the PDA she carries with her everywhere.”

  David wiggled the mouse, and the computer screen lit up. “Do you know her password?”

  “No.” Laurel flapped her arms against her sides.

  “Let’s start looking. People sometimes keep their passwords handy under their phone or the mouse pad or somewhere like that.” He lifted the pad up and shook his head.

  Faint music from the family room reached Laurel’s ears. “My phone! Maybe it’s her.”

  “Maybe. You go check, and I’ll keep looking.”

  Tight knot in her middle, Laurel scurried up the hallway. Please let it be Janice. I need to know that Caroline is okay. But even as she prayed, her heart throbbed like a mashed thumb. What could she say to this friend who might more aptly be named Judas than Janice?

  She picked up the phone. The caller wasn’t who she’d hoped. The ID window said Unknown Number. Laurel’s pulse became staccato hoof beats in her ears.

  “Hello?” The greeting emerged a croak.

  “If you want your daughter to live to see another day, leave the house now and meet me in the south parking lot of the Cherry Creek Shopping Center.” The deep rasp sounded male, but a woman could mimic such a tone, or even use an electronic device to create the effect.

  “Tell no one,” the voice went on. “Speak to no one. Leave our phone connection open so I can hear everything happening around you, and so you cannot place any calls or send any texts. You have ten minutes to arrive. Eleven minutes will be too late for pretty Caroline.”

  “Ten minutes isn’t much time.”

  “Then you’d best hurry.”

  “Janice?”

  The caller chuckled. “Your daughter is your only concern.”

  Had this maniac already done something to Janice? A soundless scream echoed through Laurel’s brain. But he was right, Caroline must come first.

  “I—I’m grabbing my jacket now.” She scurried to the entryway by the kitchen.

  Small sounds of a search issued from up the hallway. Laurel dared not attempt to get David’s attention. He was too likely to speak, ask questions, which would alert this psycho that she’d communicated with someone.

  David! If only you could hear my heart’s cry for help! God, are You there?

  *

  If Janice kept a written reminder of her password anywhere on her desk, David was at a loss to find it. He picked up a sheaf of papers, but several fell from his grip and fluttered to the floor. As he bent to pick them up, a name leaped out at him from the top sheet.

  Gilbert Montel.

  David scanned the document. It was a representation agreement for Janice to act as seller’s agent. Gil was selling his house? The form was dated a couple of weeks ago, around the time the millionaire became engaged to Melissa Eldon. Did Melissa want them to move out of the house where Gil had lived with his first wife? Not an uncommon scenario.

  Is that how Janice became aware that one of her sister Talons was about to score large? Did she eliminate Melissa because she had set her sights on Gil for herself?

  Knowing what he now did about the Jeweled Talon Society, Laurel’s friend had motive and opportunity, but Laurel might be glad to know he wasn’t sold on her guilt. After all, if the woman were still on the prowl for rich prey, why had she remained single for so long?

  But if Janice was innocent, why had she never told Laurel she was seller’s agent to the murdered woman’s fiancé? That detail seemed rather pertinent under the circumstances. When they caught up with Janice, she had some tall explaining to do. If an innocent explanation was even possible.

  David set the paper on the Realtor’s desk and took out his cell phone. Whether Laurel liked it or not, he needed to communicate this new evidence to Detective Berg. All of it. And let the investigation take its course. At minimum, Laurel and Caroline should find themselves in the clear. He hardly dared hope he might be exonerated also.

  Thankfully, he caught the detective at his desk. Quickly and concisely, David presented his discoveries. Berg remained silent until David had finished, then asked a few clarifying questions.

  At last, a long sigh carried over the connection. “I’d like to arrest you for withholding information in a murder investigation, but I’m not sure the charge would stick. You pursued a long shot, and it paid off. Be content and back off. Let us do our job.”

  “I understand, sir. Laurel and I are particularly concerned about the whereabouts of her friend Janice and her daughter, Caroline. Laurel got a phone call a few minutes ago. It could have been her friend, but she hasn’t come back with that information.”

  “Go see. I’ll stay on the line.”

  David walked to the family room, but found it empty. Eerie silence draped the house. Calling Laurel’s name, he hurried to the front room. A window offered a view of Laurel’s house next door, and a car with her at the wheel was careening backward out of the driveway.

  “Something about that phone call just sent Laurel to her car without saying a word to me,” he told Berg. “I’m going to follow.”

  “What did I tell you about letting us do our job?”

  “You aren’t here. I am. I’ll keep you informed until someone from the P.D. can pick up the trail.”

  “You do that.”

  The detective’s bark barely registered as David keyed off his phone, flung on his jacket and sprinted to his rental car. Please, God, don’t let me lose her. He burned rubber in a U-turn, but Laurel’s vehicle had disappeared from view. David gunned the V-8 engine, and the vehicle leaped forward. Good thing he’d indulged his penchant for powerful cars at the airport rental agency.

  Up several blocks, he spotted her vehicle fading in the distance on a side road. Apparently, she was headed toward the nearest interstate on-ramp. His vehicle ate up the distance between him and her economy rental. If she spotted him, would she try to lose him? He couldn’t worry about that. Just stay on her tail.

  He drew up several car lengths behind her. Her brake lights winked at him in a pair of short bursts—a deliberate move—and he smiled. She wasn’t trying to lose him. He could only conclude she needed help. Why hadn’t she told him before she left?

  He keyed in her phone number, but the call went straight to voice mail. Either she’d been ordered to turn off her phone, or the connection was still live with someone who didn’t want her communicating with anyone else. This creep was beyond clever. The strongest button anyone could push with Laurel was something to do with Caroline.

  Redness edged David’s vision. That kid was a hot button with him, too. If he got to this guy before the cops—no, he couldn’t let fury cloud his mind. He clamped down on his emotions.

  Danger to Janice would be a close second with Laurel— unless, of course, Janice was the culprit all along.

  They hit the interstate ramp at a ridiculous rate of speed. David called Detective Berg and gave him their location. “Can you trace Laurel by her cell GPS?”

  “Only if she’s using the phone.”

  “Give it a shot.” He rattled off the number that had stuck in his head as firmly as the beautiful woman with whom it was associated.

  “We’re on it. Stay on the line with me from now on. I’m in my vehicle en route to intercept.”

  Berg’s voice grew distant as he issued instructions to someone in the car with him. Probably his partner. A radio
bleeped, and the partner’s voice barked indistinct orders into it.

  “We’re exiting toward Cherry Creek Shopping Center,” he told the detective.

  “If she’s meeting someone, hang back. Don’t let yourself be seen.”

  “Only if Laurel’s not in imminent danger.”

  A curse answered that stipulation. “We’re less than two minutes behind you.”

  David firmed his jaw. A lot could happen in that amount of time.

  Laurel’s car turned in to a mall entrance. David signaled to turn in after her, but another vehicle surged in front of him, exiting the lot. He slammed on the brakes, and the teenage boy behind the wheel of the other car made a rude gesture as he sped away. David whisked into the lot, gaze roaming for Laurel’s car and coming up blank. Just that fast, he’d lost her.

  Pulse pounding, he relayed to the detective what had happened and received reassurances of their imminent arrival.

  “Sit tight,” Berg added. “Her phone is live, and we’ve got her on GPS.”

  Eternal seconds later, the unmarked police vehicle glided past David’s car. He followed at a discrete distance around the perimeter of the parking lot to the other side of the mall. His heart leaped. There was Laurel’s vehicle sitting alone at the farthest edge of the lot near a busy street. The driver’s door hung wide open.

  David slammed on the brakes and made a rocking park, then leaped out and raced toward Laurel’s car on the tails of the pair of detectives. They’d have to arrest him to stop him from looking. Over their shoulders, he peered into Laurel’s vehicle. The car was empty except for her cell phone lying on the passenger seat.

  He stared wildly around, but any of dozens of vehicles in motion on the street or in the parking lot could contain a kidnap victim. His shoulders slumped. When she needed him the most, he’d failed the woman who had come to mean more to him than his next heartbeat.

  Why did he realize how precious she was to him when he might never get the chance to tell her?

  FIFTEEN

  Where…am…I?

  The question floated through Laurel’s brain. Ephemeral. Wispy. As if her mind were detached from the earth.