Southern Romantic-Suspense Boxed Set (Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel Book 0)
Page 90
The last thing she remembered was walking into the house to change. Chad had sent her roses with a note requesting she bring a bag for them, that after the appointment, they would go out to dinner and stay the weekend at a bed and breakfast in Murphy. It’d been such a romantic gesture by him; she’d been so excited. But then, while she was retrieving a bag from the closet, someone grabbed her from behind. She’d only been able to struggle for a few seconds before her world went black, and then she’d woken up in her makeshift prison and everything had still been black.
She struggled to stay awake, wondering what they were going to do when she was out due to the drug. She hoped they wouldn’t molest her. She needn’t worry about her unborn child yet, she was much too early for them to be able to take her child. By her estimates, she was only about twelve to fourteen weeks. She was supposed to find out exactly how far along at the ultrasound, when they’d be able to measure the baby and see how progressed it was. Chad had been so excited about finding out what the sex was … he’d gone on and on about different room ideas.
She couldn’t fight off the effects of the drug any longer. Warm tears slid over her cheeks, as she plummeted into unconsciousness.
When Cassandra woke again, the room was brighter. A plain wooden lamp sat beside the cot on a folding table. Also on the table was a child’s toy; it looked like one of those things you could write on and then pull the bar across and it would erase the words. She picked it up; there was a note written on it.
Write a note to your husband
Tell him you left him and not to try to find you
Leave the note by the door
If you want you and him to live, do as you’re told
Cassandra cringed with horror, but reached for the stack of paper and pen on the table. So they’d drugged her so they could come into the room. They obviously didn’t want her to see them. That was a good sign; it meant she still had a chance. What was it they wanted? A ransom, maybe, as she’d suspected before. If so, that would take months. There was still two months before Chad was able to access their parents’ savings and even longer if they demanded so much that he would have to sell the home or the business, which she knew he would. Chad loved her. He would give up anything for her, as she would him.
But then the thought suddenly occurred to her … they wanted her to write a note that she’d left him. He wouldn’t pay a ransom if she’d left him. They weren’t demanding a ransom; they wanted him to believe she’d left him. Why?
So they were trying to do something with her or her baby. But what? What did they want?
Cassandra erased the note on the board and then scratched her own.
I need Zofran, or I will die!
What do you want?
The message was a little dramatic. Maybe she wouldn’t die; though, she’d felt like it a few times. Her baby might, though, and she couldn’t tolerate that.
She pulled the table closer to the bed and started to pen the note to Chad. She could figure out a way to let him know she hadn’t really left him. She could play with the words. He was intelligent … she could never slip anything by him. He knew her every mood and nuance. He would be able to read between the lines. After all, she’d told him a hundred times, she would never leave him, and he hadn’t done anything recently that would cause her to leave.
Yes, she’d been upset with his overreaction to Tom and that stranger at the club, but he’d never once made her feel as if he would ever hurt her. In fact, it was just the opposite; he was so gentle. She knew how strong he was. He could pick her up as if she weighed nothing, but he’d always held her so tenderly. As if she were a doll.
She knew undoubtedly that Chad had only wanted to protect her and her honor against the other men. He was extremely protective of her, and she believed that Chad had been correct about Tom. Not that she thought Tom would ever force himself on her, but she was confident if she had given him even the remotest of leeway, he would have propositioned her. She was always cautious because of this and made sure they were never alone, as they’d been that time in the office. She was even careful not to look at him in any way that could be misconstrued as an interest.
Chad,
I remember the day I received the heart necklace, signifying that only one heart belonged to me. I now know that is not true. You can love more than one person and hold two hearts in one.
I had to leave. Please do not look for me.
Cassandra
Cassandra could only hope that Chad would remember her comment about the day her father had given her the necklace, that he would read between the lines and know indisputably he was the other heart she held in hers, that she had no choice but to leave because someone had taken her. And the “Please do not look for me,” well, he would ignore that if he figured out the rest.
To her captor, she hoped the letter would look as though she’d fallen in love with someone else. Maybe they would even put the necklace in the envelope as proof that she was giving it back to him. She’d told Chad she would never remove it; he would figure it out. She knew he would; she had to count on his love.
She put the letter in the envelope, placed it on the writing tablet, and set it near the door. All she could do was pray and wait.
Metal scraped against the floor again, and she turned to see a gloved hand holding a small gardening tool pull the tablet and paper through the opening at the bottom of the door. The person had thought of everything. Cassandra had thought that maybe she could sit beside the door, wait for the hand to appear, and then she could hold the person’s hand and tie it to something so they would be captive as well. Not that it could amount to anything, but she’d been willing to try almost anything at this point. She was starting to feel extremely nauseated and claustrophobic.
Chapter Thirty
The driveway was still empty when Chad arrived home. Good, he hadn’t missed the detective.
He went upstairs and searched for any evidence that might lead him to believe there was any possibility Cassandra had left him.
He searched her box of memorabilia that was at the top of the closet. He flipped it over so he could go over the oldest to the newest. Nothing but items from her youth: concert tickets, movie stubs, Busch Garden’s passes, and even a map of the theme park that had been creased and worn, as if someone had folded and unfolded it throughout the day. He looked at the date … Cassandra would have been about six, how cute.
Pictures of her and another girl from one of those mall photo booths made him smile. In each miniature image, they made different faces: sultry, funny, serious. This had to be Karen. He hadn’t thought to call her. If Cassandra had left for Florida, she would have been the first person she would have contacted.
Nothing else jumped out at him. No pictures of guys she’d dated, no love letters of any kind. The only cards she had were birthday cards and graduation cards from her father.
As he neared the top, the box held everything they’d done together in the last few months. Plane ticket stubs, documents from the hotel, receipts from restaurants, movie stubs, a brochure on the hot air balloon ride — she must have found it at the hotel — trail maps of places they’d hiked, the box top of the pregnancy test she’d taken. Everything they’d shared was here, but there was nothing else, nothing indicating she’d ever had a relationship with anyone else. If she hadn’t cared about him, would she have kept all these mementos?
The doorbell rang, causing him to jump. It was so quiet. He’d been accustomed to Cassandra always being here with him for months. He forgot how lonely he’d been before she entered his life.
He made his way downstairs and walked toward the entrance. A man stood at the door, arms crossed, looking defensive and closed-minded — Detective Bearns, he presumed.
Chad opened the door. “Hello, Detective, please come in.” He motioned the officer to the kitchen table. “I made copies of all of Cassandra’s personal documents I found in the computer. I’ll go get them, and be right back.”
 
; The detective dragged the chair across the wooden floor, so it lined up sideways next to the table and plopped down. “Please hurry, Mr. Wilkinson.” He glanced at his watch, then drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
Chad returned a few minutes later, carrying a folder and then rattled off everything he could think of that would have any bearing on Cassandra’s disappearance. Bearns listened attentively, occasionally jotting notes on a pad, as Chad went through the entire scenario from the start of their relationship, to the couple of times he’d been an idiot, up until yesterday, when she simply didn’t show. He didn’t want to leave anything out that may come back to haunt him later, making him look suspicious.
He showed him the florist’s business card and explained their conversation, discussed Cassandra’s accounts that had not been touched, and even poured out the contents of her memory box. He described her relationship with her father and the necklace … how she would never remove it and directed him to also confirm everything with Brandy, who knew her almost as well as he did.
Chad released a long breath when he had nothing more to say and just stared intently at the detective, waiting for his take on the situation.
The detective leaned back in his chair, pulling his leg up on the opposite knee. “So, what you’re telling me is, you believe your wife loved you completely and would never have left you?”
“Yes,” Chad said on a sigh. “I do, and if there was one person I could suspect, it would be Tom. But I told you, Brandy and I went there earlier, and Cassandra wasn’t there, and he’d acted as though he hadn’t spoken to her since the incident a few weeks ago.”
The detective pursed his lips and shook his head. “There’s a great deal of money at stake here, Mr. Wilkinson. If Cassandra doesn’t stay the entire six months, everything goes to you … do I have that correct?”
Chad exhaled. He knew that was the only other option he would surmise. If his wife hadn’t left him … then obviously he — it made him sick to even think of that possibility. “I love her, Detective. I wanted to marry her from the first day we were together. But I also offered for her to leave, and I would sell the house at the end of six months and give her everything. I didn’t want her to stay if she was only going to leave me after six months.” How could anyone understand something so convoluted? Would anyone believe they fell in love immediately? “She’s pregnant with my child. You have to know, I would never do anything to hurt my wife or my child … it is all I ever wanted.”
The detective looked compassionate for a second as if he believed him, but then his face transformed, taking on a harder mask. “We have to search every possibility. You are correct; it doesn’t look as if your wife left willingly. Not without a money trail. Unless she had an account you’re unaware of.”
Chad shook his head and shrugged. “Not that I know of and you can see she was meticulous about record keeping. She documented everything. I searched the entire computer for any hidden files and found nothing.”
The man nodded. “We’ll do some research ourselves, order her phone records, and check for any accounts that may show up under her maiden name and then get back to you. We’ll also want to speak to,” he stopped to look at his notes, “Brandy Reynolds, Tom Turner, and Michelle Turner, and you said she has a friend in Florida?” He looked at the pad again. “Karen … ?”
“Yes. I’ll have to see if I can find her last name and number and get back to you.”
Detective Bearns stood. “You do that, and, Chad,” he lowered his head and stared him directly in the eyes, “you’re not planning to go anywhere, are you?”
Chad closed his eyes and felt the sting of tears. “No, sir. As I said, we had six months before either of us could leave, and this is my home. A home and a family are all I’ve ever wanted, and I have a business to run.” He sucked in a deep breath to control his emotions. “I know you have to investigate me, but please don’t waste so much of your time that you lose the real perpetrators. My wife is missing, and I’m the only one who seems one hundred percent certain that someone kidnapped her. I love her and want her back.” Chad rubbed his forehead with his hand and fought back the tears that threatened. It wouldn’t look good for the cop to see him like that. He would chalk it up to a fake performance. He needed to remain calm and helpful. “I’ll do whatever I can to assist you, Detective. Please do whatever you must.”
Detective Bearns walked toward the front door. “We’ll have someone out here tomorrow morning to dust for prints and talk with the neighbors, and I’ll be at your office tomorrow to talk with Ms. Reynolds. Other than that … well, that’s all we can do for now. But I assure you, we will do everything to locate your wife.”
“Thank you. That’s all I ask.” Chad didn’t really feel thankful; he felt powerless and felt as if the detective had nothing to go on other than his word. And what good was his word in this situation? There was no proof that Cassandra had been abducted by anyone other than him, and he had no way to prove where he was for several hours the day she went missing. The detective certainly must think that the only reason he was making such a big deal was to cover his tracks.
***
Cassie needed Zofran. All the research indicated that a pregnant woman and unborn child could have adverse side effects to a pregnancy, mainly dehydration.
Zofran could be ordered without a prescription overseas, or at least a comparable drug according to Internet research. Cassie would just have to survive until it arrived, in the meanwhile, she would have to make do with Pepto-Bismol.
It would only be a matter of time before all would be revealed. Cassie would eventually see the truth. And who knows, maybe there would be a different outcome. But if not, killing Cassie was not out of the question. It would not be a difficult task; she was a tiny thing. Her neck could be snapped in seconds, or she could be held underwater until she drowned. Either way could be the result of her car going into the lake. It would take a while until they found her body, preferably after the child was born. There had to be some way to dispose of her without it being noticed that she’d already had the child. There would have to be more research to figure that out, but there was plenty of time … no one would ever find Cassie.
***
Detective Bearns pulled up in front of the Wilkinsons’ business. He’d been here with his children last spring; it was a fantastic time. The ROCK was always busy; it truly was a lucrative business. There were other similar businesses in the area, but the Wilkinsons had one of the best positions on the Nantahala River, and they’d been there long enough that word of mouth was clear; they were the best in their market. The family had made what was a fun hobby a successful business.
Chad had been honest about the amount at stake. The home and the business were paid in full, and both were clearly worth three-quarters of a million dollars or more individually.
Bearns had worked in Charlotte for fifteen years before moving to Ashville, and he had seen his share of passion slayings over the years. Scorned lovers pulled the trigger when no money was involved. What was the draw when someone could receive double their inheritance? Three-quarters of a million dollars was a lot, but over a million and a half … that was life changing. Chad could sell both the house and business and live comfortably without ever working another day in his life; his salary right now was less than the interest alone on that amount.
Bearns didn’t really buy the love-at-first-sight nonsense. Who married a woman after only knowing her five days? His wife and he had dated all through high school, married as soon as they got out, and then she’d left him ten years later. If you couldn’t trust a woman after knowing her for fourteen years, how could you trust one in five days. Besides, Chad had said he’d dated the other woman — he looked at his notes to get his information straight — Michelle Turner.
He’d dated her for more than six years. Then he learns he has a competing heir and drops her like a hot potato. Yeah, something wasn’t right about this picture. Chad seemed like a genuine guy, but then again,
didn’t most people? Police officers had a name for those people at the station: EDP, which meant Emotionally Disturbed Person in general terms, or in the case of most of the citizens, he and his partners dealt with on a daily basis, an Every Day Person, people who from the outside looked completely normal. Women like Susan Smith, who’d drowned her beautiful children because she wanted to be with her new boyfriend, and he didn’t want kids. She’d looked completely normal. But from the first time he’d heard her testimony, he’d known something was fallacious.
Chad was believable. For about ten seconds, he’d had him considering his story. He’d get to the bottom of this case. No woman deserved what he may have done to her.
Bearns walked in the door of the ROCK and walked up to the front counter. The woman’s nametag indicated she was the person he was here to interview. “Hello, miss, I’m Detective Bearns.”
The woman fumbled with a large ring of keys, locking her cash drawer. “Oh, yes, sir … I’ll tell Chad you are here. He’s in his office.”
“Actually, I need to speak with you. Can we use his office?”
“Uh … yeah, I guess so.”
Ms. Reynolds led him upstairs to the office and knocked on the door. Chad answered after a few seconds. The man looked worse than he had yesterday. The dark circles under his eyes were more visible, and his eyes looked red, but he could just be suffering from guilt. It didn’t mean he was innocent.
In his book, the closest family member wasn’t innocent until proven guilty; he was guilty until cleared. With no other leads, that’s where he had to start. It just didn’t make sense that someone had abducted her. Not in Nantahala. There’d been no other recent abductions, and she wasn’t a minor who someone wanted to molest or sell on the black market. Women her age didn’t just disappear from little towns, unless it was by someone they knew or because they wanted to disappear.