by K C West
“Okay,” Terry said, a smile playing around her sensuous mouth, “let’s get back to the tape and go over it again, slowly and carefully.”
Had she noticed me checking her out? I cursed myself for the moment of weakness. She didn’t hold a candle to PJ.
Halfway through the second viewing of the tape, Constable Richard Williams brought us a pot of tea and a plate of cookies. “If you need anything else, just give us a nod,” he said, placing the tray at the other end of the worktable. The police had been most accommodating. I wondered whether it was due to Frederick’s influence, or simply because the local constabulary was more in tune with people’s feelings than their American counterparts. Cups and saucers, yet. PJ would be so impressed.
I poured the tea. Thinking of my partner reawakened the sense of helplessness that threatened to destroy me. I had to change the subject, force some normalcy into my life for a few minutes, or I’d go crazy. “So, what have you been doing lately?”
Terry allowed her fingers to brush my hand as I handed her the teacup and saucer. She smiled when I drew back as if I’d touched a hot wire. Damn it, there had to be a way to convince Frederick that she wasn’t needed here.
“For the past few weeks I’ve been in Toronto, helping to track down a serial child-killer.”
“You’re using your expertise in criminal cases rather than in antiquities?”
She shrugged her muscular shoulders and spread her arms. “I was tired of living in the past, though I’m still dabbling in antiquities. Pots and things. There’s money to be had there.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “The ancient world is where it’s at for me, but not because of any money. On the contrary, there’s satisfaction in being a starving archaeologist.”
“You always were overly righteous, stuck in your own little time warp.”
Her condescension made me bristle, but I held my anger in check. “Thanks,” I said. “And since where I am now is no longer any business of yours, let’s get back to work.”
“My, are we touchy today, or what?”
I wanted to grab her by her long, aristocratic neck and choke the smirk right off her luscious lips. Instead, I took my tea and sat down in front of the console. Without waiting for her to reposition herself, I leaned forward and stabbed the play button.
Terry sat down with an exaggerated sigh. She rolled her chair closer to the table, and together we studied the flickering image.
“It’s a lousy copy,” she said, after a few seconds. “I don’t know how they expect us to work within the detail of the image.”
“It is a poor copy, probably second or third generation, and the original could have been less than perfect.”
“Stop there.” Terry leaned forward. “Back up a little.”
I did as she requested.
“Why is she shaking her hands like that?” Terry asked, as we replayed the part in question. “Is that a mannerism of hers?”
I shook my head, backed up the segment, and played it through again. “Probably nothing. I can see she’s nervous, though she’s hiding it pretty well.” I backed it up again, then let it play through the segment and beyond.
“Shit!” I said. “Look at that.” PJ was pulling the neck of her T-shirt. “Is that blood?”
Terry scooted closer to the screen. “It sure looks like it. Go back again.”
We studied the sequence repeatedly. “I noticed some old bruises on her face, but it looks like there’s a scratch on her throat. Could that be the reason for the blood?”
“I guess they mean business.”
I felt a wave of nausea pass through me and tried breathing through my mouth. “I never doubted they did.”
We replayed the segment, but other than seeing spots of what appeared to be blood on her shirt and the scratch on her throat, we saw nothing that would help us.
Each time the tape ended, we rewound it, and started over, stopping where necessary and repeating, searching for something, anything, that would tell us where she might be held. We scanned the background, hoping to see something in the room, a picture perhaps, or a calendar on the wall behind her, that might be a clue to her whereabouts. But the shots were tightly framed; there was nothing obvious.
“What about this part?” Terry asked. “When she asks her father to pay close attention to her words, she says she ‘doesn’t mean to harp on the subject, but lives are in danger.’”
I gave her a questioning look.
“That word, harp. It’s not that common. Why the almost exaggerated emphasis on the word?”
I chewed my lip and felt a tiny bubble of excitement swell inside me. “You know, you’re right. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard PJ use it in that context before.” Something about the word had triggered a brief recognition in my brain, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“There has to be something we’re overlooking, some hidden clue she’s giving us with that expression. And I wonder whose lives are in danger, other than her own, of course?”
“We’re getting closer,” I murmured, rubbing my chin, “but we still haven’t connected.” I slammed my fist against the table. “It’s so damn frustrating.”
Terry put her hand on my arm and gave it a squeeze. “Patience, Kim. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“But we only have three days to find her.” I sat up and stabbed the play button again. “We need to really focus.”
She picked up her pencil and turned to a fresh page on her pad. “I’m ready if you are.” For a fleeting moment, I was thankful for her expertise.
We ran the tape back and forth until our eyes were bloodshot and I had the mother of all headaches. A search of my bag yielded a couple of outdated Tylenol tablets. I was sure they had lost some of their potency, but I swallowed them anyway.
“Look,” Terry said after another couple of hours of intense viewing, “we’re so tired now that we’re liable to miss something even if it leaps onto the table and slaps us in the face. What say we call it a night and start fresh in the morning? We can stop somewhere for dinner.”
“We only have three days, less than that now, before the ransom is due.”
“I know that, but right now we’re both too damn tired to be of use to ourselves or to PJ.”
“I suppose you’re right, but no dinner.” I gathered up my supplies. “I’m going right back to the inn.”
Her fingernails drummed on the tabletop. “You have to eat, and so do I. Since we’re working together, what’s wrong with keeping each other company over dinner?”
I wasn’t happy about it, but I had no real reason to decline, except for the headache, which had eased. “Where do you have in mind?”
“Now you’re talking. I found a great little pub where they serve a lamb stew that is out of this world.”
*
We chose a well-worn oak table in the back room. On the other side, two men in overalls and tweed caps were conversing in Welsh. I found the singsong resonance of the language fascinating. In the far corner, an older couple spoke in hushed tones. Conversation and laughter drifted in waves from the bar. A well-endowed barmaid in a gauzy peasant blouse arrived to take our order for stew and ale. Except for the modern dress of the patrons, the ambience could easily have been Elizabethan.
“Tell me, what do you and your little concubine do when you’re not digging through piles of dirt? Other than the obvious, of course.” Terry gave me a saucy wink.
I started to rise from my seat. “I’ll leave right now if you’re going to talk about her like that. She doesn’t deserve such treatment.”
“All right, I’m sorry. It was a cheap shot.” Terry put her hand on my arm and coaxed me back down. “Come on, you know me. You know how I like to kid around.”
“Yes, I know you too well.”
I picked up my glass and savored the robust taste of the British ale, enjoying its nutty flavor as it slid down my throat. “There’s nothing in the world to compare with the European ales,” I said, mo
re to myself than to my dinner companion.
She raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that. Cheers!”
I was hungry for the first time in days, probably because I was finally feeling better physically. More than that, though, I was at least doing something constructive. Knowing that Frederick was covering all the bases helped, too. We would find her. I dared not think otherwise.
Food would help. I hadn’t had a decent meal since before I’d come down with the flu, and I certainly hadn’t eaten much since PJ had been taken, either, so it had been several days. I smiled.
“What’s so amusing?” Terry asked.
“My eating habits have been very erratic, what with the flu and the kidnapping. PJ would tan my hide if she knew.”
Terry’s smile was wicked. “Mmm, would that be with the aid of chains and handcuffs, or would she just strip you naked and use a bullwhip?”
I could feel anger rising inside me. “That remark doesn’t deserve an answer.”
“Why not?” She drank some of her ale, wiping the froth from her lips seductively with the tip of her tongue. “I’ve found that pain heightens and prolongs the sensation, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not one bit interested in your sensations.”
“A little jealous perhaps?”
My look froze her into silence. She shrugged and turned her attention to her meal. I unclenched my hands and inhaled the delectable aroma rising from our plates.
Besides chunks of tender lamb, the hearty stew contained potatoes, peas, carrots, mushrooms, and even a few turnips. It was served with a platter of brown soda bread. We each ordered a second glass of ale, and I endeavored to keep our conversation centered on work. Terry, on the other hand, seemed bent on making it personal.
After swallowing her last bite of stew, she wiped her mouth and put down her napkin. “Can I ask you something?”
I buttered my last piece of bread. “You can ask. Whether I answer remains to be seen.”
“You always were the cautious one.”
“So ask.”
“Do you really think it’s all over for us?”
I stared at her. “What are you suggesting?”
Her long, tapered fingers traced the lip of the empty glass. “Sometimes, I’d like for us to be together again.”
“I don’t believe you.” I tossed the bread down on my side plate, shaking my head. “Why, when I’m in a perfectly stable, loving relationship, would I want to repeat previous mistakes?”
She wrapped both hands around her glass. “We were happy for a while, very happy.”
“For a while, until you revealed your true colors.”
“We could make things work.”
I drained the last of my ale and put my glass down. “Terry, understand this. I’m in love with PJ. We have something special going, and we intend to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“You listen to me, Kim.” She pointed her finger like a dagger at my chest. “I’m giving you good advice. There’s an age difference between you two.”
I knew she was baiting me, trying to force me to lose control, but I wasn’t about to give her the pleasure. “We’ve discussed that, and it doesn’t matter.”
“By the time she’s the age you are now, you’ll be applying for Medicare. Do you really think she’s going to stay with an old woman? Use your head. You’ll be lucky if she sticks around for five years.”
My fist pounded the table, causing heads to turn in our direction. My voice lowered, but I gave my anger free rein. “Enough! This is the last I’m going to say on this subject. We have pledged ourselves to each other. Do you understand? That’s the way it is, so drop it.” Terry shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
*
It was a beautiful night for the stroll back to our digs, but the air smelled of rain, and the moon played hide-and-seek with the fast-moving clouds.
“Goodnight,” I said when we arrived at my place. Terry was staying at a hotel farther down the street.
“Okay.” She touched my sleeve. “You’ve convinced me that you and PJ are going to live happily ever after. But she’s not here right now, and you’re lonely. I can see it in your eyes.” She lifted her hand to caress my cheek, and her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “Let me comfort you tonight, for old times’ sake. If PJ is half the woman you say she is, she’ll understand. She’ll know how alone you must feel, how afraid.”
We stood opposite each other, bathed in the glow of the inn’s entrance lights. Terry was stunning. Gazing at this tall, captivating woman, I could see why I had fallen in love with her all those years ago. And she was right; I was lonely. It would be comforting to snuggle up to a warm body tonight. In the glow radiating from the inn’s leaded windowpanes, her trim form was delectably inviting. Her expensive, snug-fitting pants and jacket accentuated her sensuality.
I recalled how she looked without clothes and how good she was in bed. She played her lover like a fine musical instrument, lifting her until the final crescendo burst in a dizzying array of colored lights, sensations, and sounds. Yes indeed, Terry was good in bed, but PJ was better. Her spirited lovemaking was initiated by love, not lust. That made one hell of a difference.
“You just don’t get it, do you? When you’re in a relationship, you remain true to your partner, no matter what. Sure, I’m lonely and in need of loving. There’s nothing I’d like better than to have someone in my bed tonight, but that someone has to be PJ. End of story.”
Terry patted my cheek. “You’re too good to be true.” Her laugh was taunting. “See you in the morning, my dear,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away, then she stopped and turned. “I thought you might be hard to get along with, but I brought my toys - just in case.”
“Good night, Terry.”
*
I undressed slowly, thinking about what she had said. I was aware of the age difference - just short of fifteen years - and while it did not affect our relationship now, what of the future? As we aged, the difference would become more evident. PJ wouldn’t leave me, of that I was sure, but what if my health broke down? Would she feel trapped? Would she yearn for younger company? Was I being fair to her? Damn Terry for having put those thoughts in my mind.
I reached into the bedside stand and pulled out PJ’s medallion. Remembering the circumstances surrounding our discovery of the two Amazon medallions and the snakes that slithered harmlessly by us that day, I was certain it had been a message from beyond the grave, from Marna, myself in another time. The medallion glowed faintly in my hand. I felt our connection more strongly than ever.
Tears welled in my eyes, and my body ached for PJ. The two medallions represented an invisible thread between us, a thread that would not, could not, be broken. I caressed it, touching it to my lips.
“Oh, PJ,” I whispered to the darkened room, “what are you telling us?”
I buried my face in her pillow and sobbed until there was nothing left in me, and fell asleep with the medallion clasped in my hand, the chain woven securely through my fingers.
Chapter 18
I stretched out on my cot, fingers laced behind my head, trying to ease the unpleasant knot in my stomach.
Fear.
It never seemed to go away, especially at night. When things were quiet, there was nothing to distract me from my situation. I stared at the exposed floor joists overhead, and my thoughts turned to a more pleasant subject.
Kim.
I’d done what I could. If she and Dad were able to find the clues in the tape, they just might get here in time. If not, then I didn’t want to think about that.
In the meantime, I was working on a way to escape. As much as I loved Kim, I couldn’t put all my faith in her ability to save me from my own mistakes, and this one was a whopper.
There was a remote possibility that Dad would pay the ransom or make it look like he had, and my captors would set me free. I wasn’t holding my breath on that, however. If I could be patient, my best
hope would be to get away when the timing was right.
For a while, I considered making Woodsy an ally. When he mentioned murder, though, I was convinced it was too late. He had already crossed the line. I couldn’t bring myself to ask if the murder he mentioned was Sarah’s, but it probably was. One murder could easily beget two in a criminal’s warped mind. I thought of Garlic Breath and shuddered. His mind was about as warped as it could get.
I had to stop thinking such sickening thoughts right before sleep. I needed to remember the other option - escape. It wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t see any other way.
I gave my pocket a protective pat. Each time I visited the bathroom, I palmed several Ambien tablets, crushing them into a fine powder once I returned to the privacy of my basement cell. Peter Gibbs sometimes used envelopes as bookmarks in his reading material. One of those now held my cache of tablets. I discovered that I could slide the envelope with its fresh supply of pills under one leg of my cot and then climb on the mattress. Voila! Instant pulverized medicine. If I was asked to fix a meal and was unobserved for any length of time, I could doctor their food and drink with the drug, it was a risky plan, but if the guys were drowsy enough, I thought I could get away. I had to be ready.
But once out of the house, where should I go? Were we in a village, or some distance from one? If this place was near a farm or house, I could knock on the door and get help. What if they thought I was a crazy person, or looking to rob them? Considering how I looked right now, I didn’t think I’d trust me enough to invite me inside.
We had approached the critical point of negotiations on the ransom. We assumed the tape was in Dad’s hands by now, and these guys were anxious to make a collection. The only bad part that I could see was that Designer Suit had provided Woodsy and Garlic Breath with handguns. The switchblade remained the boss’s weapon of choice, and a vicious weapon it was.
I rolled to my side, tucking one hand under my pillow and curling the other against my chin. This was my usual sleeping position. The only thing missing was a warm, naked body spooned against my back and a protective arm hugging me and occasionally tickling my belly.