Southern Romantic-Suspense Boxed Set (Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel Book 0)

by Carmen DeSousa

  She gave him a quick nod. “Okay … do you mind if I take a shower?”

  “Go ahead.” She started heading down the hall. “By the way … Brandy …” She turned. “I appreciate you coming over last night. But …” He paused, not wanting to offend her. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea … you know I could never … I’m not …”

  She huffed out a breath of air. “Chad … please … you’re like my brother. I know you could never look at me as more than a friend. Go get ready … I’ll follow you in, but no one will know.”

  Chad spent the entire morning searching the computer. There was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, Cassie had completely organized everything. She’d made excel files on everything from employees to daily sales, including separate columns for the store and the rafting company. She downloaded pages of information on legal issues concerning liabilities and had started on their new waivers. She’d been doing exactly what she’d said she’d been doing. He could find nothing on divorce of any kind.

  He found another file, a Quicken account, with her credit cards and bank account info. She used the same password for everything; the same one she’d used for their joint account. There was nothing hidden or out of the ordinary. He typed random letters and looked for archived and hidden files, nothing.

  Chad refreshed the Quicken file, pulling up her bank account information. The only recent deposit was last Friday. No withdraws, no debit card purchases. He flipped over to her credit card account, same thing, nothing. Last purchase was at a fast-food joint the day before yesterday. How was that possible?

  He dug deeper. He went back to her account. She deposited every penny of her check, spent nothing but normal purchases for gas and the occasional lunch.

  Wouldn’t she have had to use the account to fill up with gas or get food if she were on the road? If she’d taken a flight back to Florida, wouldn’t the purchase show?

  Unless she was still local, could she be with Tom? He shook his head. No, he couldn’t see her with him; she’d never given him a passing glance.

  Chad rested his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. Nothing made sense. He started rifling through the desk. He flipped over a small card with roses on the front, a business card for a florist shop. Maybe they’d sent the flowers.

  Picking up the phone, he dialed. “Hello, my name is Chad Wilkinson,” he introduced himself to the woman on the other end of the line. “You sent out an order of roses yesterday. Is there any way I can find out who sent them?”

  The lady insisted she couldn’t release that information, but when he explained the situation, she softened, saying she would try to help, but she couldn’t tell him who sent them.

  “Wait a minute,” she asked abruptly. “You said your name was Chad?”

  “Yes,” he said hesitantly.

  “I can’t tell you who paid for them; they were paid for in cash … my daughter took the order. But the note that went with the flowers was from you.”

  “What? Oh, God!” He hung up and started to dial the phone again, then hung up. “Would the police believe him … he’d been out of town yesterday so he couldn’t have purchased them?” Picking the phone back up, he dialed the florist again. “I’m sorry … one more question, ma’am. When were they purchased?”

  He heard her flip through her notes. “Uh … I’m not certain. Looks like a couple of days ago, according to the receipt, but there is no way to know what time.”

  “But, not yesterday?” he pleaded. “You’re sure?”

  “No, not yesterday, I’m positive. I was here all day. My daughter was off and this is definitely her handwriting.”

  “Okay, thank you.” He sighed.

  So what would the police think? His wife was missing. Nothing pointed to where she was, and she’d received flowers on a day he was supposed to meet her, supposedly from him. And there was no one who could vouch for where he’d been between three and five.

  He didn’t care. He picked up the phone, dialing the police again, requesting the same detective so he wouldn’t have to sludge through the entire story again.

  After another ten minutes of pleading and explaining all the facts, Detective Bearns finally agreed to come to the house and take a full report this evening on his way home. So he had a little time to kill. He just hoped he’d be able to stay level-headed.

  “Brandy,” Chad said, approaching her. “Have Diana take over the front and call Leslie and ask her to come in early. We need to take a road trip.”

  “To where?” she asked, concern clearly showing on her face.

  “Please … just do it … I need you with me, so I don’t do anything stupid. I just have to see something.”

  Ten minutes later, as they plowed down the road, Brandy looked around the truck as if there was an exit point she hadn’t already seen. “No, Chad. No way! I’m not taking you there,” Brandy argued. But it was too late; they were already driving. The reason he hadn’t told her beforehand.

  He bit down on his lip, then tried to explain. “If you don’t take me … I’ll go myself, and I know you don’t want that … or would you like me to break something else on him? If I’m by myself, there’s no telling. But I swear to you, I won’t do anything with you there. If Cassandra is there, I’ll forget this entire mess, but I have to know.”

  Brandy smacked her hand against the dashboard. “Why do you think she’s with Tom? What makes you think she didn’t just leave? We’ve only known her for what … four months?”

  Chad sighed and rubbed his head. “I don’t really … I don’t think she’s with anyone, Brandy. I don’t think she left me … I think … and I know this sounds strange, but I think someone took her.”

  “And you think Tom would do such a thing?” she shrieked.

  “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I actually hope she’s there on her own free will, then I can move on. But, Brandy … something’s wrong. Cassandra didn’t just run off and leave me, and if she isn’t with Tom, then her being kidnapped is the only other logical explanation.”

  Chad explained about the flowers supposedly from him and nothing deducted from her account or credit cards. He didn’t bother trying to explain about the necklace. Those two things were suspicious enough. Brandy just stared at him, but said nothing. “Other than Tom … is there anyone else Cassandra could have been seeing?” he asked. “You spent all day with her, and I spent all night … she spent almost every spare minute with one of us. Did she go anywhere on a daily basis you haven’t told me about?”

  She shrugged and looked out the window. “Lunch and she spent a lot of time in the office.” She turned her head back to him. “We don’t know her past. Maybe there was someone else? And I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, what’s been happening with you and Cassie.”

  Chad glowered at her. “What are you insinuating? You think I could’ve hurt her? Do you think she would be anxious to see me if I abused her?”

  “Women are strange, Chad. My momma went back with a man who abused her for years after my daddy left.”

  He sighed deeply. “Brandy … honestly, that hurts that you would even think for a moment —”

  “I don’t really think that, Chad.” She cut off his words. “I’m here in the truck with you, aren’t I? But I saw the way you hit Tom … and I know you have a temper. I just don’t know what to think, but I’m here for you, like I’ve always been.”

  “Thank you.” There was nothing else to say. The cab remained quiet the rest of the trip to Ashville.

  Chad told Brandy what to do once they were inside Tom’s apartment. She seemed hesitant; she didn’t want to believe Cassie and Tom would be having an affair, but Chad knew Brandy trusted him and would help him figure out what was happening. Brandy was crazy about Tom. She wanted him to continue to date her and hopefully go further, but it was because she wanted stability, not because she loved him, she’d confessed. She said she would help, but she would not accuse Tom of anything; they would simply observe,
and she’d agreed to allow Chad a chance to search the apartment.

  In agreement, Chad knocked on the door and then stepped back so that only Brandy could be seen.

  “Brandy?” Tom inquired tentatively, a questioning look as he opened the door. Then he saw Chad. “Oh, and you. What do you want, Chad?” he sneered. “Brandy, what’s going on?”

  “Just paying a social visit,” Chad replied, stepping through the doorway. “Do you mind?”

  “I mind indeed. I should have slapped a restraining order on you after our last get-together. All the years we’ve known each other, I’ve seen you hotheaded, but you’ve never hit me before; it was always some other unsuspecting son-of-a-gun. I should’ve known you would eventually turn on your friends.”

  Chad ignored the ‘friends’ comment. Tom had stopped being his friend the moment he’d made a play for Cassandra. There was no sense in getting agitated, though; he’d promised Brandy and Cassandra that he wouldn’t lose his temper again.

  “So, have you spoken with Cassie lately?” Chad asked coolly.

  “No, Chad … I haven’t conversed with your wife. Is that how little you trust her? And what are the two of you doing in Ashville together, alone, or is Cass out in the car waiting?”

  “No … Cassandra’s not here; it’s just Brandy and me. She wanted to speak with you.”

  Tom tilted his head slightly, looking at Brandy. “Brandy wanted to speak to me, or Cassandra wanted to speak to me?”

  Chad tried to act cool, but couldn’t keep the irritated huff from escaping. “Now why would you think Cassandra would want to speak with you? Of course Brandy … so I drove her here.”

  Tom’s eyes softened as he looked at Brandy. “I told you I have to study for the bar exam. It will be just a few weeks, and then we can pick up where we left off.”

  “Can we talk just a moment, Tom … alone?” She motioned her head to one of the backrooms.

  Tom eyed Chad carefully, then turned and walked with Brandy to the last room at the end of the hallway.

  Chad didn’t know how much time he had, so he started with the first room on the left and then searched the second room at the end of the hall. He looked under the beds and in every closet, then went into the bathroom. He didn’t think Cassandra would be hiding, but he didn’t know what Tom was capable of. He was certain that if she wasn’t cheating on him with Tom … then she wasn’t cheating on him with anyone. As he’d discussed earlier with Brandy … she simply didn’t have the time. The only question would be if someone from her past had shown up, but that would have meant that she’d been untruthful from the beginning. But if that was the case, then why — no, there was no other explanation; it simply wasn’t true. She couldn’t have faked everything. She wouldn’t have married him, made love to him, and gotten pregnant by him. No other explanation made sense. Something terrible had befallen his wife, and she wasn’t here. So where was she?

  Brandy and Tom emerged from the bedroom when Chad exited the bathroom. Not so unusual, obviously, he had to use the facilities, but Tom still looked at him suspiciously.

  Tom held onto Brandy’s elbow as he escorted her to the front door. “So that’s it … you drove all the way here to tell me that? You could have called.” Tom seemed confused more than angry. Maybe Chad had been wrong about him and how he felt about Brandy.

  Brandy kissed him on the cheek. “Sorry to bother you, Tom. We’ll go now.”

  “You’re no bother, Brandy, but I do need to study. I would rather you not return with Chad, though. Should I be suspicious of the two of you now? Of course, Chad knows I’m not capable of busting his jaw. He has me when it comes to fighting, and he knows it.”

  Chad felt fractionally remorseful; though, he knew Tom was hamming it up. He knew as well as Chad that he was interested in Cassandra, but he was putting on a show for Brandy. “You know, Tom … I am sorry about that. I guess I overreacted.”

  Tom looked shocked at Chad’s confession, probably because he knew he’d deserved a broken jaw. He knew he would’ve done the same thing if he were capable. “Well then, okay … I can’t say that I forgive you, but thanks for the apology. I must say I wasn’t expecting a confession of culpability.”

  Tom held out his hand to Chad. Chad accepted his hand but was still skeptical; it just didn’t smell right, something was still fishy. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on the cause.

  After pulling onto the highway, Chad asked, “So, what did you talk about while you were in the room with Tom?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Brandy said seriously. “It was nothing about Cassie or you; it was about Tom and me. He had no idea why we were there; I sort of got him thinking ’bout other stuff.”

  “Okay … you’re right. I don’t want to know.” It was like imagining his sister in the worst possible situation. “I hope you didn’t compromise yourself in any way.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. As you said earlier … we know each other. I won’t make the same mistakes my mother made. Though, time is certainly starting to catch up with me.”

  Chad couldn’t help the burst that snuck out. But then he felt guilty for laughing; he didn’t feel like laughing. “You’re twenty-two, Brandy. I don’t think you need to worry about being a spinster for a while. Cassie is twenty-five and —” He sighed heavily. He realized at that moment there was no way he could doubt his Cassie. She was wonderful; she was his. “I have to get home. The detective will be there. I’ll drop you off on the way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Cassandra opened her eyes to nothing but darkness.

  It’d been almost an entire day she was certain; though, the room didn’t look any different from when she’d first woken up here. She’d screamed until her throat was raw, but then stopped when she realized it was to no avail. She didn’t think anyone could even hear her. If they had, they would have at least told her to shut up.

  She’d investigated every square inch of her prison. There were no windows, no lights, and the only object that resembled an exit didn’t have a handle. She’d pried at it until her fingers felt as if they were bleeding. She’d located a sink and a toilet and what she hoped was a clean bottle of water along with a few packets of crackers, and then a cot. After hours of crying, she eventually fell asleep.

  Now she was crying again; actually, she hadn’t stopped for the last few hours. But she wasn’t crying for herself, she was crying for Chad. What would he think? Was there a ransom, or was this some type of cult or slave kidnapping?

  Would he know someone had taken her? Or would he think she’d left him? Obviously, when he saw that her things were still at home, he’d know something was wrong. But what if Michelle was right? What if he couldn’t handle being alone? What if he did something stupid?

  He would have known something was wrong when she hadn’t shown up at the ultrasound appointment. They’d been so excited about it … it was all they’d talked about for the last week.

  She touched her neck again. They’d taken her father’s chain and her wedding ring. Tears streaked down her face for the hundredth time, and she began to feel nauseated. If she didn’t get her medication soon, the vomiting would commence — did they know she was pregnant? Oh, God … maybe they want my baby.

  A grating noise, as if steel were sliding against steel, pulled her from her horrid thought. She couldn’t see in the pitch blackness, but she jumped up and ran toward the sound. “Wait … who are you? I’m sick … I need my medication. It’s called Zofran. If I don’t get it, I will die.” It was a silly thing to shout, she realized. Why would they care? But since they’d kept her alive so far, maybe they had a reason. The longer she stayed alive, the longer she had a chance of escaping. And almost as much as food and water, she needed those pills.

  A padding of footsteps retreated from the door — they didn’t care.

  She felt along the floor in front of the door. A plastic tray sat on the cold stone floor. She hadn’t realized there was an opening in the door. She fel
t around the bottom of the door. It was almost flat, but she could just make out the recessed passage. She pushed to try to move it or slide it open as her captor had done. Nothing budged. She dug and tore at it, hoping for any movement.

  Her hands knocked over a bottle of water. God … no … had it had a cap? She needed water. The water in the sink probably wouldn’t poison her, but it tasted like iron, as though she were drinking out of a rusty mug. It’d even felt like a few particles of dirt had slid down her throat.

  Feeling around, her fingers touched something soft … a sandwich. She groped around some more and found an apple on the tray. Well, at least they were feeding her, so they must have some intention, not that she wanted to know what it was.

  She took a bite of the sandwich, peanut butter and grape jelly — yuck, but at least it was food. She hoped her stomach could handle it. Already, the smell was overwhelming. The apple sounded good, but she didn’t really want something chunky; it made it worse when it came back up. She would wait and see how her stomach handled the sandwich.

  She drank the entire bottle of water. It was cool and refreshing. As cool as it was in this hole, she felt clammy, and she knew it was because she had a fever. It was one of the first signs of dehydration. She would drink as much as she could, despite getting sick, she couldn’t take a chance of endangering her baby’s life because she hated the act of vomiting. Her system would certainly absorb some of it.

  Within minutes of chugging the water, she felt drowsy. She shouldn’t have been tired; she’d slept for hours. Her head felt lightheaded, and her eyes refused to remain open. Then her head started to spin.

  “You drugged me?” she screamed into the darkness. “I’m pregnant, you idiot.” She shouldn’t have told them that, but she assumed they already knew and could only hope there was some vestige of humanity in the person who’d captured her and that they had a purpose of keeping her alive. The longer she fought, the better chance she had that someone would rescue her. Did anyone really disappear without a trace? Wouldn’t there be some evidence of who’d kidnapped her?