He got in. “You couldn’t do better than this roller skate?”
Kel met his gaze. “A limousine will be noticed.”
Maurice flicked a hand for him to drive. “She’s out cold, correct?”
“Yes, for at least eight hours.”
“Good work. Let’s get the boy.”
“He’s with the receptionist.”
Maurice sent him a hard glance. “You don’t have him?”
“She hid him from everyone. No one knew who cared for the kid while she was away. And you wanted to do this. I said I’d find her and get close to her, but I’m not stealing the kid. That’s a felony.”
“And you do have a sexual assault record, don’t you?”
Kel’s expression turned bitter. “You better make this worth it, Steel.”
“Or?”
“I’m not sure. If you’d been here when I called, I might have found the boy sooner while she was in Vegas.”
“I had appointments I couldn’t break.” Maurice gave a distasteful look at the passing scenery. “Did you ever learn what she was doing there?”
“No. She almost spotted me, so I disappeared.”
Maurice gave him an annoyed look and when the car pulled into the driveway of a small house, he got out and with determined steps went right up to the door. He didn’t knock, and pushed his way in.
Darcy was abruptly aware of her surroundings.
Her face was hot, her skin itching. It felt like ants crawling over her back, making her shift and pushing back the thick, cottony feeling in her brain.
Sprawled on the floor, she had no idea how much time had passed.
Charlie.
The thought of her son in danger forced her to move her legs, draw her arms to support herself as she pushed up on her hands and knees. Her stomach recoiled and she gasped for air, trying not to retch and then not caring. Bile spilled, burning her throat. Crap. She swiped her mouth and struggled to her feet.
Her knees went soft and she grabbed the sofa arm, lurching into it. She lay there for a minute, trying to breathe, to clear the cloud of drugs. What did he give me? Now that it was out of her body, after a couple minutes, her blurry vision began to clear. Her breathing sounded like an engine in the small apartment.
She looked around. Alone.
Her heart twisted with anger and worry, and she grabbed the phone. No dial tone. Staggering to her feet, she swallowed, her mouth dry. She ripped the place apart looking for her cell phone. She found it in Kel’s suitcase along with papers from Maurice. An investigator’s report. She tried reading them but the words swam like bugs on the page. Stuffing them in her jacket, she dialed Meg. All she got was a busy signal.
Darcy cursed, the floor feeling unstable beneath her feet as she hurried to the sink. Filling a glass of water, she drank, then shoved her head under the faucet. Charlie, repeated in her mind, her thoughts going wild over what Kel would do with her son.
I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I will kill him.
She shook her head like a dog, smoothing her hair back as she looked out the window. The break of dawn painted the night sky purple. It’s been hours. Charlie would be scared. He’d scream. Maurice needed Charlie unharmed, but Darcy feared Kel had hurt Meg to get him. Her friend wouldn’t give up Charlie without a fight.
She dialed 911 and told the police that she’d been drugged against her will and where they’d find the evidence. She gave them the address, said Kel had done it to kidnap her son. They’d send a car to her house, but Darcy knew it was too late. It had been hours. The police wanted her to wait where she was. All she said was “No” and cut the line.
Whoever Kel really was, he was going to jail. And if he touched her son, she’d kill him. She didn’t care about herself, about watching her back, about staying out of jail. All that mattered now was her son and Megan.
Slinging her purse, she moved down the narrow hall to the door. The walls swayed a bit and she paused, waiting, then grabbed her jacket, threw open the door and walked out.
I hope pretty-boy Kel gets twenty to life as some guy’s prison bitch.
Maurice was back in L.A. within two hours. Darcy, he thought, was still on the floor of that apartment.
He paced the spacious living room, staring at the boy tucked into his grandmother’s side on the sofa. Delores Allen was just an added lure for Darcy. She was a drunk and liked all the things Maurice had given her to keep her quiet and docile. She didn’t look docile now, though, glaring at him from her perch like a thin sparrow.
“Would you like a drink, Delores?” he asked. He knew she wanted one. She’d been drunk when he called her, drunk when she arrived by limousine. Twenty-four hours locked up made her look like an aging hooker in detox.
He stepped behind the maple-wood bar, pouring a scotch, then bringing it to her. She looked at it hungrily and Maurice knew she needed it—more than she wanted it.
“Go on, it will take the edge off.”
She shook her head, hugging the sleeping child protectively. Maurice grinned and sipped the smooth, gold liquid. His gaze landed on the boy. He’d cried for his mother the instant he’d woken after the plane flight. He’d whimpered and whined, begging to go home. Maurice felt stung by it, wanting his boy to come to him. Maurice chose not to tell him he was his father and a little dose of his own insomnia medication had kept the boy quiet for now.
If he wasn’t certain the child was his, he would have thought the boy belonged to another man. He was a dead ringer for Darcy. He even had her bright blue eyes. The only trait of his the child possessed was Maurice’s dark hair, yet it was streaked with the same blond as his wife’s.
Maurice turned away to stare out the window. The alarms were set, the fence electrified, and the dogs were loose on the grounds. There was no way she could get in here, yet Maurice wasn’t taking any chances, keeping a gun close by. When she arrived, he’d call the police and claim she was trying to kidnap the child.
The boy stirred, whining for his mother, and Maurice motioned to a servant to give him the drug-laced milk. Maurice continued to look out the window, knowing Darcy couldn’t get inside and confident he had the upper hand. He’d lure her in, then make her pay for ruining his life by leaving him. No one left him. And he wasn’t going to let a pretty piece of poor, white trash win.
He’d kill her first.
Chapter 15
D arcy broke the speed limit and nearly crashed twice to get to Megan’s place. She dashed out of the car, leaving it running and pushed through the front door, shouting for Charlie and Meg.
Only silence answered her.
She tore through the house, searching each room, noticing the overturned furniture, and that Charlie’s backpack was gone.
“Meg!” she screamed, tears running down her face. “Meg!”
Her panic out of control, she raced out into the backyard and nearly fell over Meg sprawled facedown on the steps, the cordless phone inches from her hand. Darcy slid to her knees, checking her pulse.
“Oh, thank God.” Bending, she pushed the curls back off her face. “Meg, wake up, honey, wake up.” She tapped her face, rubbed her wrists.
Meg blinked and moaned.
Darcy felt as if the heavens opened up with hope. “Where are you hurt? Can you feel your legs and arms?”
Meg muttered, “Yes” and pushed up on her hands and knees.
“Where’s Charlie, Meg?”
“He took him. Oh, Darcy,” Meg cried, rolling onto her back. Darcy’s eyes widened at the open cut on her cheek, and the blood smeared over her face and staining her clothes. It was dry. “He was so scared and I fought him, I swear, but he had a gun. He had a gun on Charlie!”
Darcy stared at Meg, helpless tears sliding down her cheeks. Then suddenly she hugged Meg, helping her upright.
“I swear I tried, he came out of nowhere. He ripped him right out of my arms! Charlie screamed and screamed and then…he stopped.”
Darcy’s heart stopped, too, then picked up speed.
“I can’t believe Kel did this!”
“No, Darcy. Maurice did.”
Darcy froze. “He was here!”
“I grabbed the phone to dial the police, but he knocked me down. I went for his leg and that’s when he backhanded me with the gun.” Meg touched her face, wincing. “Jesus, I forgot how much that hurts.”
“Come on, let’s get you up.”
Stuffing the phone in her back pocket, she helped Meg onto a lawn chair, then rushed inside for water and a cloth. Meg’s cheek was cut, her left eye bruised. Maurice had had hit her so hard she wouldn’t see out of that eye for days. Pistol-whipped. What a coward.
“Come inside.”
Meg stood uneasily. “Darcy, I tried. You gotta believe me.”
Darcy gripped her shoulders, meeting her gaze. “I don’t doubt you, Meg. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
She’d been too slow to take the signs for what they were, and should never have left Charlie alone. She’d walked right into a trap. She helped Meg into the house and into a chair, then hunted under the sink for a first-aid kit. Her hands shook as she cleaned Meg’s wound and put a butterfly bandage on the cut. It was the best she could do right now. The blood was nearly dried and Darcy gave Meg an ice pack, then checked her watch. She’d been out cold for over eight hours.
She pulled out the phone and cleared the line. “You never got to the police?”
“No. I passed out.”
Darcy handed her the phone. “Call them now.”
“What? But you’ve been hiding all this time!”
“It ended when Maurice took my son. Where’s your gun?”
Meg groaned. “Oh, Darcy, no.”
Darcy’s gaze pinned her. “Where is it, Meg?”
Letting out a sigh, Meg pointed to the soffit on the top cabinet. “The bullets are behind the flour, over the stove.”
Darcy climbed on the counter, retrieved the weapon in the plastic bag, then found the ammo. “Call the cops.”
“But…”
Darcy gave her a dark look and Meg nodded, sniffled, then just as she was about to dial, the phone rang in her hand. She answered it, frowning up at Darcy. Her eyes widened and she held it out.
“It’s for you.”
Darcy grabbed it. “Kel?”
“No, my love. It’s your husband.”
Darcy’s stomach rolled loosely. He sounded so smooth and confident. “Where is my son?”
“You mean our son.”
“No, he was never yours. You gave up that right when you tried to make me lose him. He’s mine.”
“Are you referring to the accident when you fell down the stairs? You always were clumsy, Darcy.”
Darcy gritted her teeth, letting him talk, saving her rage for when she met him face-to-face. She loaded bullets into the magazine.
“I want to talk with him.”
“No.”
“Let me talk to him, Maury!”
“He’s sleeping peacefully.”
They flew back to L.A., she realized. Good God, he had to have drugged Charlie to get him to go along without a fight.
“Charles will be all mine to raise when you go to jail for kidnapping him and keeping him from his loving father.” He chuckled softly, a dignified sound, not too harsh, practiced. Darcy wanted to ram it down his throat. “You’ll go to jail and never see him again.”
With her palm, Darcy popped the magazine into the weapon and sighted down the barrel. “Don’t count on it.”
“What do you think you can do to me?”
“I’m going to let you experience that for yourself.” She cut the line, laying down the phone, then stuffed the gun in the back of her slacks and pocketed the ammo.
“Darcy? What’s happening?”
“Maurice has Charlie. He took Charlie for one reason. To lure me back to him.” And have power over her, she thought. But then, Maurice had married a different woman.
“It’s a trap and you know it.” Meg held out the cordless phone. “You have to wait for the police now, Darcy. It’s kidnapping. Let the FBI handle this.”
“No, this is my problem, my son and my husband.” Darcy headed to the door. Time for some payback.
Meg called out to her. “What do I tell the police?”
“Everything.” Darcy was out the door and in her car within seconds. Police sirens roared in the distance as she sped in the other direction. She needed to get to L.A. as fast as she could and wanted to fly, but Maurice would likely have his hired creeps waiting for her. It would take her a few hours by car. She needed the upper hand.
But first, she needed some equipment.
And the help of the Cassandras.
Darcy was scrapping for a fight, feeling like a junkyard dog, mean and willing to bite hard on anyone who got in her way. She’d packed her equipment, clothes and some things for Charlie and pushed the legal side of the speed limit. There was no use charging in without a plan. It would only give Maurice a bigger advantage and that wouldn’t do her son any good.
She was going to get Charlie back the safest way possible.
Rage and worry simmered as she drove the six hours to Los Angeles. Maurice would be waiting for her in Bel Air. If he wanted to come out of this smelling like a rose, then he wouldn’t lay a hand on her son. It was the only thing keeping her from busting into the estate and shooting him on the spot. She rented a hotel room, tried to sleep and couldn’t. She was prepared, waiting for the timing to be right.
Darcy slowed her walk through the west end of Bel Air, high heels clicking on the concrete. Her leather slacks made her thighs rub and sounded like a squeegee on a clean window. It was annoying, but the dark cream leather outfit gave her the look of money and sophistication. Natural and unnoticed in Bel Air. It helped that her wig was black and her face bore the bone structure of an actress whom she knew lived this time of year in Tahoe.
She walked past Maurice’s estate. Just looking at it brought back the memories of Maurice pushing her down the stairs and smiling while he did it, of him locking her up in the guest room for days without food, when he’d used sex as a weapon, tying her to the bed. Though he hadn’t been violent then, it had been against her will.
Old fear made her body perspire under her clothes and she shook the memories loose, focusing on her plan. It was still a couple hours till dusk.
Surrounding the house and land was a two-foot-thick stone wall with a gate that was twice the size of a Mack ruck. It was electrified and on automatic from a keypad inside and a handheld sensor for entering from the street. Maurice hadn’t left the house. And no one had come in.
The west end of the property faced the water, the view open to the sea. Darcy could have swum to it and walked up onto the beach if not for the laser alarms near the water’s edge. Maurice had a boat in a slip a few blocks up the coast, but he never set foot in the ocean. He couldn’t swim well.
A car moved up beside her, slowing. She heard the window electronically go down. Great, a pick-up line.
Then a deep voice said, “Get in, now.”
She stilled and turned her head. Jack. He leaned and pushed open the passenger door.
Darcy let out a breath and climbed in. “How did you know?” She was wearing a mask.
“After two years, you ask that?” Jack pulled away and drove out of the area. “Are you nuts?”
“He has Charlie.”
“I know, Megan called me. The police are with her. Let them handle it, dammit.”
“I can’t. He’s got my son!” Darcy rubbed her forehead, a thousand thoughts tripping through her head and slamming against a wall. “What the hell am I supposed to do? The man tried to kill me and he has Charlie. Do you understand? He has my baby!”
“He wants you.”
“I don’t give a shit what Maurice wants! My child is in danger! Don’t interfere, I can handle this.”
“Baby,” he said softly, and immediately tears sprang into her eyes and her lips quivered. Jesus, this man could get to her so ea
sily. “I know you can. I’m on your side.”
She pulled off the wig and fluffed her hair then carefully peeled the mask off as she spoke. “I’m glad you are, Jack, really. But I have to do this alone. This man has made my life hell for years and I just found the guts to fight him at his own game.”
“He won’t hurt Charlie, he wants you and you’re walking into a trap.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do. The FBI has all the evidence on Fairchild and Maurice.”
“What?” She looked at him, horrified.
“I gave it to them. Don’t look at me like that, woman. It’s the only way, and you know it. You have to let the authorities in or nothing will stand up in court. After seeing your evidence, Agent Bale has agreed to open a case on Fairchild. They’ll have to review it before they go to Maurice.”
“That isn’t going to make a difference.”
“It will when we find the body.”
She shook her head. “Maurice covers his tracks really well, Jack. He was careful when he beat me where anyone could see the damage.”
“I still find it hard to believe you stood for that.”
“I didn’t. He lost a couple teeth to prove it. But he didn’t have to hit me to be abusive. Good God, when I was pregnant with Charlie, he threatened to cut him out of me.”
“Jesus, what a son of a bitch. I’m not going to ask why you married a man like that.”
“I grew up poor with an alcoholic mother, and he was rich, famous and wanted me. I just didn’t realize the price would be my self-esteem and pride.”
Jack reached for her, urging her closer. “That’s been over for a long time.”
Darcy sighed against him, her head on his shoulder. “We need to find the body.”
“The warehouse?” he said.
“I thought of that. But I was in there, and didn’t find one. You know a decomposing body would smell.”
He reached in his jacket and pulled out a slip of paper, reading it and driving. “Do you know what ah…HCHO is? It’s urea-formaldehyde.”
She straightened in the seat. “It’s an adhesive used on fiber, wood movie sets and 3-D background paintings to preserve color and seal the surface. Set designers need it to maintain the integrity of background paintings while filming for months at a time.”
Alias Page 17