Calculated Revenge

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “We’re going to get through this,” Noah said.

  She managed a nod.

  “Hank says Adelle has quite a china doll collection in her house. So we know where your nasty little gift came from.”

  She blew a long breath through her nose. “Another bit of the picture moves into focus. But why did she kill Glen Crocker?” Laney glared at Noah. “If he wasn’t her accomplice, what did he have to do with her sick scheme?”

  Noah shrugged. “He saw something he shouldn’t. Or she tried to involve him in her plans, and he refused.”

  Laney rubbed her forehead. “I want to curl up in my bed and sleep the clock around.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. The FBI will have a watcher outside your apartment.”

  She gave him a sidelong look. “I don’t suppose you’re going to get some rest, too.”

  “Later, maybe.” That bloodhound look was back on his face.

  “Don’t forget to check on the flood damage at the school.”

  “I plan to get around to that, too.”

  Laney stretched her legs in front of her. “Do me a favor and call my parents with an update.”

  Noah frowned, but nodded.

  By about 9:00 p.m., they reached her apartment door. The confident stride and the warmth of his presence beckoned her to let him hold her, if only for a few moments. But that would encourage him needlessly. When this was over, if ever it was, she and Briana needed a fresh start elsewhere.

  Laney unlocked her door, then turned toward him. His piercing green eyes searched her face for answers that had nothing to do with the case.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said simply, then entered her apartment and closed the door. She couldn’t afford to acknowledge the disappointment on his face.

  Alone in her apartment, even familiar things looked foreign. But then, her whole world had turned inside out. She really ought to call her mom and dad herself, and she missed Briana like an ache in her soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone.

  Her feet carried her into her bedroom. She dropped her purse on the floor, stripped off her outer clothes and collapsed into the comfort of her sheets and coverlet.

  The persistent singing of her cell phone brought her eyes open. How long had she slept? Light crept around the corners of the window shade, but was it evening or morning? The cell phone’s nagging ceased. Who was trying to call her? Noah? She forced leaden limbs to carry her over to her purse. As she reached inside, the cell began to sing again. She pulled the instrument out and stared at the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number. Chills skittered around her insides.

  She flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

  “We’ve been driving through the night from Louisville, Kentucky,” a cheerful female voice announced. Laney’s heart seized. That voice hadn’t changed much in eighteen years. “It won’t be long until we’re back where it all began,” Adelle continued.

  “Mrs. Addison?” Laney’s voice quavered.

  The woman chuckled. “Birkstrom, please. You and Mr. Ryder have put a few things together, I see. Where are you, little Laney? Are you alone? I hope so. We need to see you and resolve this matter. But only you. No police. No Ryder.”

  “Where are you and who’s with you?” Laney’s grip fisted around the phone.

  “All will become clear soon.” The eerily soothing tone raised goose bumps on Laney’s skin. “Once again, where are you, Laney Thompson?”

  “Cottonwood Grove.” Her heart pounded. Had she made a mistake admitting her location? But it seemed the only way to move this conversation along and find out what Adelle was after.

  “Too bad. We’d hoped you were still in Grand Valley. Then you wouldn’t have so far to travel. If you leave now, you can meet us at the trysting place before the clock strikes twelve noon. Not a second later.”

  “Trysting place? Where?”

  “You will be told what you need to know when you need to know it.” Ice would have been warmer than this woman’s voice. “Remember. No police. No nosy Ryder. No calls out, and no calls received during your drive time. When you arrive, we will check to see how you have used your cell phone. And be punctual, or the little princess pays the ultimate price.” The airwaves went dead.

  The little princess? They had Briana! How? When? It didn’t matter.

  Sweat oozing from her pores, Laney battled her galloping heart and heaving lungs into submission. She could not afford a panic attack. She had to save her daughter.

  The clock said nearly 7:00 a.m. Adelle was right. Unless she raced out the door this very instant and risked arrest for speeding, she would never make the twelve noon deadline…that is, if she’d understood correctly that the trysting place was near Grand Valley. That’s were this travesty “all began,” wasn’t it?

  Laney threw clothes on. No FBI? No Noah? How could she face these monsters without his support? But she couldn’t risk her daughter’s life to gain a helping hand. And she sure couldn’t risk law enforcement pressure—not after the horror story Noah had told her about his fiancée’s death when Burns and his bunch got involved.

  Snatching up her purse and car keys, she left the apartment at a run and didn’t bother to lock up. God, help me, her heart cried. Noah, please find me, a piece of it echoed.

  At the bottom of the stairs she peeked out the front window. The unmarked FBI sedan sat across the street. Fine. Let them watch all they wanted for someone to have a go at her. They wouldn’t expect the woman they thought they were protecting to sneak out the locked rear service entrance and drive away.

  Soon Laney was on the road out of town at the wheel of her compact car. Her whole body trembled. She’d have to stop for gas at some point and chew up precious minutes she didn’t have to spare. How could she possibly reach this unknown rendezvous on time?

  And if she didn’t meet the deadline, would she arrive to find her daughter’s body? Or worse, no body, only pools of telltale lifeblood, screaming her failure as a mother. Just like she failed as a sister.

  SEVENTEEN

  At 7:45 a.m., Noah padded to his kitchen, yawning. He’d awakened later than he intended, but then he’d been burning the candle at both ends for days now. Hopefully, Laney had gotten some rest last night, too. If only he’d had the right to stay with her in her apartment. Thoughts of her alone and processing another death in this bizarre case had disturbed his slumber.

  Despite the tragic development of Glen Crocker, he hoped they were closing in on Adelle and her mystery accomplice. There could well be something in her house that would give them a clue to her whereabouts and even the accomplice’s identity. After checking out progress in repairs to the school building last evening, he’d returned to the crime scene in Wellesly to discover Agent Burns had arrived full of “spit and vinegar” as his grandmother used to say. The agent hadn’t been too delighted to see Noah, but the feeling was mutual.

  He’d returned home around ten and hit the sack. A phone call to Hank this morning should get him up to speed on developments, and he’d decide from that information what rock to turn over next in the hunt for a couple of very sick perps. The sooner this case wrapped up, the sooner he could concentrate on being the kind of man Laney needed to round out her family.

  Smiling, he dumped coffee grounds into a filter and turned the machine on. Funny how he’d resisted the thought of romance with a coworker. The school district didn’t have any policy against it. In fact, he knew teachers and fellow administrators in other districts who were married to each other. Now that the smart, gentle, courageous woman had melted through his defenses, the reasons he’d given himself for remaining aloof sounded more like self-serving excuses to protect a wounded heart. He’d do whatever it took to be with her.

  His cell sounded as he poured cereal into a bowl. He checked the caller ID. Hank. “What’s up?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. This Adelle woman is a queen bee schemer. The feds aren’t happy at how little she left behind for them to go
on. We do know from the neighbors that her pickup truck gone, and a little pop-up camper she kept in the backyard. We’ve got an APB out on those vehicles, but that’s about it since last night.”

  “That’s all you can do, then.” He did hate the waiting part of this game.

  They ended the call. Noah poured milk onto his cereal as he thumbed Laney’s apartment number into the phone. It rang and rang, then went to voice mail. He frowned. Was she sleeping that soundly? He tried her cell, but that went to voice mail, too. Abandoning the coffee in the auto-shutoff machine and his milk and cereal on the counter, Noah trotted from his apartment.

  He was an idiot for not bunking on a sleeping bag in her hallway. What a fool to think an FBI watcher outside would be enough. If she’d simply made a trip to the store and left her cell in her apartment, he’d wring her neck. But his gut said something was wrong.

  Laney flexed her fingers around the steering wheel of her car. It had nearly killed her not to answer Noah’s call, but she didn’t dare leave evidence on her cell that she’d spoken to someone. If only she could give him some type of clue where she was headed. She’d been in such a panic when she left her apartment that taking a few seconds to leave him a note had been beyond her mental processes. What was she thinking to confront these ruthless people by herself? But now she was on the road, and she couldn’t take time to stop.

  Her cell played again, and she checked the window. It was her parents. Were they only now discovering that Briana was missing? It would be nearly 9:00 a.m. in Louisville, but Bree sometimes slept that late when no one got her out of bed. Then again, Laney gnawed her lower lip, she only had Adelle Addison’s word that Briana was at their mercy. Nothing someone like her said could be trusted.

  Laney’s phone beeped that she had a message. Should she check it? Adelle hadn’t told her she couldn’t access her voice mail. Listening to a message shouldn’t qualify as communicating with anyone. She punched in her voice mail access code and put the cell to her ear. C’mon, Dad…or Mom even…tell me the Bree-Bee is all right. Then she’d turn this car around and—

  “Laney!” Panic saturating her dad’s voice confirmed the worst. A sob left her throat. “Where are you? Oh, dear God, help us! We went in to wake Briana up, and she’s not there! Just a life-size china doll in her bed. Call us. Now!” Dad’s harsh breathing mingled with the faint sound of her mother weeping in the background. “We’ve called the authorities, and we’re going to call Noah next. We think Briana was taken by the private security guard on duty last night. He’s missing, too. Oh, my Laney-girl, I’m so sorry.” Dad’s voice broke, and the message cut off.

  Waves of ice water washed over Laney. She put the phone down and returned both hands to the wheel. Her jaw clenched. Adelle Addison might think that her plot to destroy the Thompson family was poised to succeed. She’d reckoned without the wrath of a mother. Heaven help the woman when Laney caught up with her.

  A furious moan escaped her lips. If she had to stop at a convenience store for gas, she’d better take the opportunity to arm herself with something…anything. But what?

  As he dashed into Laney’s apartment building, Noah waved at the FBI agent in the car across the street, but didn’t wait to see if the guy got out. Noah took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. Sweating from nerves, rather than exertion, he hammered his fist against her apartment door. The latch let out a snick and gave way. Her door gaped open several inches. Noah stared in horror, then charged through calling her name. If an intruder was inside there was no point in being subtle now.

  The ticking of a wall clock and the hum of the refrigerator answered him. He raced up the hall. The first bedroom featured a neatly made twin bed and pink princess decorations. He trotted into the next room, obviously Laney’s, with its cheerful but conservative furnishings. Clothing strewed the floor and covers were flung nearly off the bed—evidence of haste in the neat room.

  “What’s going on, Ryder?” The agent’s voice called him back to the living room. The man stood with his hand inside his jacket where the bulk of a handgun showed.

  “She’s gone,” Noah told him. “Left in a hurry. On her own or coerced, I don’t know. We need to see if her car is in the garage.”

  On the way down the stairs, the agent trailed, talking urgently on his phone. They reached the garage. Laney’s stall was empty. Had she driven away on her own power or with someone who had her under duress?

  Noah’s cell phone sang out. “Ryder, here.”

  “She’s gone,” a gravelly male voice grated in his ear.

  Who was it? The accomplice? The voice was vaguely familiar, but…altered. “Yes, we know. Who’s calling?”

  “I-it’s me. Roland Thompson.”

  “Roland?” No wonder the voice sounded familiar, but the man had either been crying or yelling himself hoarse. “How do you know Laney’s missing?”

  “Laney? No, I mean Briana.”

  Noah’s knees went weak. He reached out and supported himself with an arm against the garage wall. “Briana’s gone, too?” His mind raced. Of course! That was the only button those kidnapping creeps could push that would guarantee Laney would do anything they said—including take off for parts unknown without telling a soul. “When did Briana go missing?”

  The FBI agent lowered his phone from the side of his head and stared at him.

  “Sometime in the night. We think it was the hired security guard. He’s gone, too. Only he wasn’t the right one.”

  “What do you mean?” Noah’s brows drew together.

  Roland hissed in a long breath. “Another dead body. Maybe. The security company just confirmed that our guy wasn’t the one scheduled for last night. FBI agents are on their way to the real security guard’s house, and some are on the way here.”

  Noah went still on the inside. “What did the imposter look like?”

  “About mid-thirties, and he was bald with scars on his head. Looked like a real tough guy. As a security guard, his appearance was comforting. Hah!”

  Disappointment ate at Noah’s insides. That description fit no one familiar. The mystery accomplice’s identity remained a mystery. “If our perps, or at least one of them, were in Louisville last night, then they must have set up a meeting place with Laney.”

  “I can’t believe she’s gone, too.” Roland’s statement came out edged with hysteria.

  Next to him, the agent’s phone rang, and the guy wandered away to take the call. He’d no doubt be getting the same information as Noah was hearing right now…and maybe more, if the feds had a line on the identity of the fake security guard.

  Laney’s father let out a whimper. “Find our babies, will you, please?”

  The other man’s ragged plea twisted Noah’s heart. “I’ll do my best.”

  He turned around to see the FBI agent striding away. “…put an APB out on her car,” Noah heard him saying, but the guy didn’t afford him a backward glance. So much for information-sharing between the P.I. and the FBI. As if that was going to happen!

  “Let me in on any further developments,” he said to Roland, and they ended the call.

  Noah gripped his closed phone. Find Laney and Briana? Yes, that was top priority. But unless the cops got lucky and spotted her car, where did he start looking?

  Laney gnawed her lower lip. She was driving her own car. Surely, law enforcement would have an APB out on it. She hadn’t seen any patrol cars, but it was only a matter of time before she passed one. Would the cops follow her to her meeting with the kidnappers? Could that cost her daughter’s life? Or worse, what if the police stopped her on the road? What had the woman been thinking! Adelle’s plan couldn’t work.

  Her poor little Briana. How scared she must be. Laney’s chest ached. Anguish, and anger, and fear balled into a tight knot under her breastbone.

  Her phone played. The ID was the same number that had been Adelle’s earlier. Sucking in a deep breath, she answered.

  “Have you been a good girl?” the woman de
manded.

  “No cops. No Noah. No phone calls. Oh, er, I did listen to voice mail. So, yes, I’ve done everything you asked of me. Now I want to talk to my daughter.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  Laney stiffened. “She’s okay. She’s not—”

  “Relax, Mama. She’s sleeping. I doubt she even knew we removed her from her bed.”

  Drugged, then? But she didn’t ask that question aloud. “Who’s we?”

  “In good time, dear. By now, you are the subject of a manhunt, as are we. I need you to stop at a friend’s house along the route.”

  “Stop! I won’t make the rendezvous on time if I—”

  “Relax. The stop will take less time than filling a tank of gas.” Adelle gave directions to a farm place near Laney’s current location and instructions about what she was to do when she got there.

  Laney prayed she could remember the details in her rattled condition. Fortunately, it was a simple turn-off and then one more turn. She pulled onto a rutted driveway through an overgrown grove. Moments later, she burst into the clear in front of a dilapidated clapboard house. Bleary windows in the two-story structure looked out on a weedy lawn dotted with vehicles in various stages of disrepair. A pudgy man in a dirt-streaked muscle shirt and grease-spotted jeans ambled off the porch as she stopped her car.

  Laney eased out of the driver’s seat, eyeing the seedy-looking character who approached with a set of car keys extended in her general direction. But his gaze wasn’t on her. His wide eyes were locked on her car. She’d bought it new when she got the teaching job in Cottonwood Grove a year ago.

  “You get that one.” He jerked a thumb toward a rust-bucket of a low-slung coupe. “Don’t look pretty, but she runs okay. You’ll get there anyway.”

  Laney snatched the keys. “Don’t you care that Adelle has taken my daughter and is going to kill her if I don’t reach a certain place on time?”

  The man tucked in his blubbery chin, making him look rather like a toad. “Don’t know nothin’ about such nonsense, but I’d do about anything for Adelle. Sounds like you’d best be rollin’ out of here, Missy.”