“Except for the fact that he has been kidnapped, and his clues led us right to the journal.”
“Of course. You’re right.” Jay turned the page. “June 4. Chuck located the tall woman’s office. She’s a lawyer but wasn’t in that day so he couldn’t meet her. He doesn’t mention her by name or the location of her office.”
Lela jotted down the information. “But it could be on the seventh floor. Next.”
“On June 5 Chuck writes, ‘My suspicions paid off today. LL met a man I occasionally chat with while in the elevator. I’ll call him Man B. They stopped talking when they saw me. Man B’s face turned red, and he walked away.’”
“I see what you mean.” Lela underscored a phrase she’d written. “If I’d witnessed such behavior, I wouldn’t have documented it in a journal. I would have assumed they were embarrassed when caught talking to each other.”
Jay jabbed the page with his index finger. “This is typical Chuck. He can make a mountain out of a speck of dust.”
“I get it, but the journal is our only lead. At least we have one person’s initials. LL.”
“Or Chuck could be calling her Lady Lawyer. He showed me his notes on the teacher drug dealer. He used abbreviations and code names, like LL.”
“That makes sense. Lawyer Lady. Ha.”
Jay returned his focus to the journal. “The next entry is a week later, June 12. ‘I saw LL give Man A a package and heard her say the meds were getting more expensive, and to use them less frequently. Later, I took pictures of Man B and everyone he met. He’s been on seven and four repeatedly.’”
“The seventh and fourth floors are key. I’ll ask Bowen if IRO can run background checks on people who work there. Do you know the name of Chuck’s friend on seven?”
“No. I’ll check the building directory to see if I recognize any names.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“The cafeteria is on four. Chuck’s stating he saw a person there doesn’t mean he or she works on that floor.”
“True. What’s next?”
“There’s more on LL. June 16. This is a long entry. I’ll read it as written. ‘I definitely think something fishy is going on with LL. All kinds of questionable people go in and out of her office. I spend my free time wandering the floors, and I see her everywhere. Man A has been back on seven several times. He’s a shady character. I’ll keep my eye on him for sure. Next time I see him, I’ll take his picture.’”
“I assume the phone Chuck used to take these pictures was with him when he was abducted?”
“Yes. He seldom went anywhere without it, and Beth couldn’t find it at the villa.” Jay pointed to the next entry. “This one’s dated June 18. ‘Today I kept watch on LL’s office. Three young pregnant women visited. Strange they all had appointments at the same time.’”
Lela bit her lip. Pregnant women. Photographs of newborn babies. Was there a connection? IRO would need more information than Chuck had provided thus far. “What’s next?”
“June 19. Chuck says he followed LL off the elevator into the cafeteria where she met Man B. She told him two more were arriving this evening and to be careful with them because they were carrying valuable cargo. Don’t know what she meant, but then he gave her a handful of photographs.”
“Aha. Photos of babies?”
“He doesn’t say, but he indicates that Man B has worked in the building for several years.”
“Why didn’t he use names instead of initials?”
“That’s Chuck. Everything’s a mystery only he can solve.” Jay turned the page. “The next entry is dated June 23. Another long one. ‘This morning after a client left, I saw ZE chatting with Yvette. Concerning because of ZE’s connection to LL. I don’t want to let Yvette into my investigation yet, therefore, I didn’t question her too closely. She said ZE asked her about the secretarial association she sponsors. Legit? Will have to wait and see. Later, I visited MF again on seven and—’”
“Hold it. ZE’s connection to LL. I’m keeping a separate list of all the initials Chuck uses.” Lela jotted down the information. “He hasn’t mentioned anyone named MF before. But his friend is on the seventh floor. Could MF stand for My Friend?”
Shrugging, Jay said, “With Chuck, anything’s possible. Should I continue reading?”
“Please.”
“Chuck wrote, ‘There was a weepy, middle-aged couple in LL’s office. They looked familiar. I followed them when they left the building. Sure enough, they live in our neighborhood. Neil and Carolyn Tate. I’ll have to pay them a visit because I couldn’t find out much about them on the Internet.’”
“At last he used names.” Lela kneaded the tight muscles in her shoulder. She transferred from the ottoman to the sofa with her back against the armrest and crossed her legs. Much more comfortable. “I’ll ask IRO to research the Tate family too.”
“Good idea. June 24. ‘In the cafeteria today, I ate at a table near Man A and Man B. Tried to hear what they were discussing but was unsuccessful. Although I’ve known of Man B awhile, next time I see him, I’m going to befriend him.’ Chuck must have followed through because in the next entry, June 26, he says he sat with Man B at lunch and found out he has a new car—a high-end convertible. Wears a gold watch, fancy Italian shoes and suits. All look new. Chuck visited his office and states he doesn’t think Man B is suspicious of him.”
“Give me a sec before you read any more,” Lela said as she summarized the data.
“Chuck must consider this information to be significant.” Jay propped his elbow on the armrest and turned to Lela. “He usually doesn’t concern himself with the outward trappings of wealth. He’s a lot like his father, who, although one of the richest men in San Diego, dressed in camp shirts and jeans. No one meeting him for the first time would have thought he had enough money for a meal.”
“In Chuck’s estimation then, Man B is living beyond his means.”
“Yeah.” Jay flipped the page. “Here’s another entry featuring Man B. June 30. ‘I wandered the seventh floor again. Could not believe my eyes when I saw WF! What—’”
“He wrote WF and not MF?”
Jay scanned the entry. “Yeah. He uses those initials again. Listen to the rest. ‘What is he doing here? He did not see me, but my curiosity was piqued. WF stopped to talk with Man B. I hid in a closet while they chatted. Too bad they were whispering. Later in the day I visited Man B in his office. Asked him about WF, but he denied knowing anyone by that name. Aha! I know I’m onto something big.’”
“More initials added to my list. Do you—” A knock on the office door interrupted Lela. “Come in.”
Ilsa entered, carrying a laden tray. Jay took it from her. “Gracias, Ilsa. I didn’t realize it was lunchtime.”
The housekeeper bustled to the door. “Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Jay.” She closed the door behind her.
“I guess we’ll stop for lunch before we finish the journal.” Jay poured tea into the two glasses. Ice clinked as the liquid filled each vessel.
“Perfect time for a break.” Lela scooted to the edge of the plush sofa and set the notepad on the coffee table next to the tray. Her mouth watered as she sniffed the savory aroma of dill swirling up from plates of chicken salad alongside crusty rolls. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
When she located the bathroom, she straightened her ponytail then splashed water on her face and dried it. Her scars itched. She rubbed her stomach and mid-section, massaging the ridges of hardened tissue through the cotton T-shirt. She should have lathered them with the prescription lotion she routinely packed. She dashed upstairs to her room, discarded her vest and shirt. Two squirts of lotion applied to the scars relieved the itching right away. All the hunched-over sitting must have aggravated them. Lela slid her arms into her shirt, and tidied her hair.
No man besides her father and the doctors had seen her disfigured flesh. Not even Smitty. While they’d dated, he’d invited her to swim or surf many times, but she provided
one excuse after another. Since her disastrous marriage, she’d never allowed another man close enough to penetrate her defenses, let alone see her scars.
Bounding down the stairs five minutes later, Lela forced the dark images back in their memory vault. She had a job to do, and it required her to be in Jay’s company. Would he act any different than other men she’d known? Time would tell.
She stopped outside the office door and whispered, “Hope he said grace already.” She opened the door.
Jay's words were clear. “…and thank You for this food. Please shower your blessings on Lela.”
How dare he pray for her? She was on the verge of barreling in, but then Abuelita’s voice ricocheted through her heart with a similar plea. Embarrassment heated her blood. Or was it guilt? Why did people include her in their religion? Swallowing her ire, Lela waited until Jay ended his prayer before entering.
22
Through the sunroom window, a normal, everyday scene played out. Beth, Olivia, and the children consumed their lunch on the patio beside the fenced pool. An orange beach ball bobbed on the water.
Sunlight reflected into Jay’s eyes, almost blinding him. He pivoted and strode into the kitchen to return the tray of empty dishes.
Yeah, normal, everyday activities, except the man of the house was absent.
Avoiding the picture window this time, Jay hurried through the sunroom. He couldn’t face his sister at the moment. He and Lela had scrutinized at least half of Chuck’s journal and had discovered nothing that indicated a reason for the kidnapping or anything that might lead to his captors.
Muscles in Jay’s jaw clenched. He slipped his hand into his pocket where he fingered the pill blister pack he’d found at the ranch house in Mexico. What did it mean? A dozen bizarre images raced through his mind—the lunch meeting with Chuck, his odd questions about Gary’s medication, his secretive behavior. Had he orchestrated his own kidnapping? Jay shook his head. Chuck couldn’t be involved. He wouldn’t subject his family to such trauma.
Jay headed to the office, his conscience twisting like a double-knotted pretzel. Should he tell Lela about the pill package? About Chuck’s interest in the medication and its overdose symptoms?
He slowed as he neared the door, mulling over the change in Lela’s attitude. While she documented details from the journal, she’d been businesslike, focused, and totally involved in the process. But when she returned to the office for lunch, her flushed face and pursed lips sent up a warning flag, and her eyes shot daggers his way. They’d eaten in silence, with Jay trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.
Hand on the doorknob, he heard Lela talking on the phone. He hesitated. Considering the nonverbal reprimand he’d received earlier, he had no inclination to interrupt her conversation. Now was not a good time to tell her about evidence he’d hidden either. Besides, Chuck had not indicated any involvement with the men who’d kidnapped him or the actions he’d documented in the journal. Would the next entries answer all their questions?
Jay rolled his shoulders. Time to face the—what? How could he describe Lela? Definitely proficient at her job. Liked to be in charge. Attractive. Smart, quick-tempered. And vulnerable. That was the trait that affected him most. Someone in her past must have disappointed her big time. She wore an outward shell of invincibility, but in a quiet moment, her eyes opened to a wounded soul. He’d peeked into those depths when she didn’t know he was watching, and he’d discerned the pain hiding there. Would she ever share that burden with him? Did he want to help ease her load? Yup. He welcomed that challenge.
Silence. Had she ended the call? Jay straightened his shoulders. Sorry, Agent Ortiz, you are no longer dictating the tone of this partnership. He smiled and opened the door, determined to carry on as if nothing untoward had happened.
Lela, phone to her ear, glared at him.
Uh-oh. Entered too soon. Although he tried desperately to keep his smile in place, Lela’s cold stare made him doubt his strategy.
23
“We’ve read part of the journal.” Lela switched her cell phone to her left ear, gaze on a hummingbird sipping nectar from the flowering shrub outside the office window. “I’m not certain what Chuck is documenting. It might involve illegal adoptions.”
Bowen whistled. “Has he provided any solid evidence?”
“Nothing specific. He described events but uses a lot of initials instead of names.”
“How’s it working out with Jay?”
At that moment, the man in question stood at the open door. Lela couldn’t help staring. Physically alluring, no doubt. Rock-hard muscles, eyes so blue they rivaled a summer’s day sky, blond hair—
But he was a man.
Personal issues aside, she had to work with him.
Jay picked up the journal. His lopsided smile showcased one dimple as if to announce he’d caught them talking about him.
Turning her back to him, Lela lowered her voice. “Fine for now.” But if he mentions one time, one time about praying with him or going to church… She perched on the edge of the desk and resumed the conversation with Bowen. “Have our techs determined the production location of the last video?”
“It was sent from the San Diego area on a burner phone. They’re trying to identify background noises. I’ll keep you informed.”
Bowen hung up, and Lela returned to the sofa where Jay waited with the journal on his knee.
She settled beside him, crossed-legged. “I’m ready. Please read the next entry, Mr. Vashon.”
He rubbed his stomach and made an exaggerated frown. “After that big meal, I might need a nap before I can exert my brain.”
Don’t smile! Lela smiled anyway. How could she stay angry with him? Unless she spoke up, how would he know of her aversion to religion? She poked the closed pen at his shoulder. “Quit stalling.”
Smoothing the open journal page, he propped his left ankle on his right knee and balanced the book on his leg. “July 2. ‘I hid behind a post to eavesdrop on LL and Man B in the garage. She asked Man B to recommend someone to send to Los Angeles to meet the big boss about a possible promotion. Man B suggested a guy named Harry.’”
“Whoa. One of the men at the house in Mexico was named Harry. That can’t be a coincidence.” Adrenalin-fueled blood heated Lela’s body. She fanned her face with the legal pad. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Keep reading.”
“July 7. Chuck deliberately befriended Man B. Whatever that means.” Jay turned the page. “The next entry is July 11. ‘Man B acted suspicious all week. Checking over his shoulder, ducking into offices. Although we ate together often, he no longer volunteered info about himself like he did at first. After work, I followed him to a warehouse on Harbor Drive. I—’”
Lela held up her pen to halt his narration. “Do you know where that is?”
“Not far from Chuck’s office building.”
“Great. Another job for IRO. Keep reading.”
“Chuck couldn’t check out the place because there were too many people about.” He scanned the next page. “Yup. Just as I thought. July 12, Chuck returned to the warehouse that night. I’ll read exactly what he wrote. ‘I left the house at midnight without telling Beth. Dressed all in black, drove to the warehouse, and parked around the corner. One vehicle was on the street in front of the building, and the lights were on inside. Blinds covered most windows.’” He stopped reading and glanced out the window as if recalling an incident.
“What?”
“Nothing. Chuck continued, ‘I peeked in a low window where the blinds were open. Spied a row of unoccupied beds. A vehicle slowed down and parked. I ducked behind a commercial trashcan. I couldn’t believe my eyes! MF climbed out of the pickup carrying a large, black plastic bag. He opened the warehouse door with a key. This changes everything. I’ll have to talk with him tomorrow.’”
Straightening her legs, Lela adjusted her position. “We need to question Yvette again. See if she can provide names for any of the initials Chuck used.”
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br /> “I agree.” Jay flipped the page.
Nibbling a fingernail, Lela squinted at Jay. “One thing I don’t understand. How does Chuck have free time to wander the halls and follow people?”
“He craves excitement and would find the time. He’s a successful financial advisor and investor, and I doubt he’s soliciting new clients. Since Yvette has been with him such a long time, I’m sure she handles part of the business, too.”
“Must be nice. I can’t remember the last time I had...” Lela doodled beside her notes. “Never mind me. What’s next?”
“July 14. Which was Sean’s fourth birthday. Chuck visited LL’s office and memorized a list of names, dates, and locations from the receptionist’s computer when she wasn’t at her desk. When he returned to his office, he jotted down the information.” Stifling a yawn, Jay rested against the cushion. “This is getting tedious, and I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“I agree, but whatever Chuck wrote is important. Why don’t you stretch your legs?”
“Good idea.” Jay stood and arched his back. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Yes, please. More of Ilsa’s delicious iced tea.” Lela’s phone chirped. She removed it from her vest pocket and checked caller ID. “It’s my mother.” Lela strolled to the window while Jay left the office. “Hi, Mama.”
“My darling, it’s good to hear your voice. Are you busy?”
“Yes. I’m in the middle of a case.”
“I need your help, baby. Can you spare a few minutes?”
Lela rolled her eyes. Her mother’s few minutes might extend to hours. “Please be quick, Mama. I—”
“Remember Margie Knox? She says a man is stalking her.”
“That’s serious, Mama. She should call the cops. But I don’t recall her name. Who is she?” Lela raised her head as Jay returned with two glasses of iced tea.
“Margie and I grew up together. I was her maid of honor. Lela Marie, surely you remember her? She often visited us when you were a kid.”
Lela ambled back to the sofa as a memory surfaced. “Did she wear her long, red hair in a thick braid?”
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