Framed For Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  A pulse. Please let there be a pulse.

  Jared’s fingers inched up the body, feeling for the neck. His hand became slick with a coppery-smelling substance he recognized as blood. Whoever this man was, he hadn’t been here long enough for his wounds to completely congeal.

  A thin, faint heartbeat welcomed Jared’s effort, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  From the size, he knew the person was a man, but he couldn’t see any facial features in the dark. The man’s skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Was he in shock?

  Jared turned away and pulled himself painfully across the cold concrete floor, searching for something to warm the stranger. As he suspected, the room was very large. Pulling from inner reserves he didn’t know he possessed, he climbed to his knees and continued on. In some areas, his hands touched only cement walls. In others he found scattered boxes filled with smelly books and other objects he couldn’t identify.

  At last he found a pile of coarse, musty-smelling blankets, and carried three back to the figure by the door. He made a thin mattress with one of the blankets before rolling the man on top of it. He heard a groan.

  “It’s all right,” Jared said, his voice sounding loud in the silence. He pulled the second and third blankets over the man. “We’ll get you warm.”

  “Jared?” asked a feeble voice.

  With a sinking feeling, Jared realized this wasn’t some stranger he had found. “Trent, what have they done to you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Trent mumbled. “I held out as long as I could, but the pain. . . I told them about the envelope.”

  The anguish and self-hatred in the voice corroded the remains of Jared’s composure, and he had to force himself to hold back tears. Slipping his hands under the blankets, he began to rub Trent’s limbs to bring additional warmth. He felt so very cold.

  “Don’t worry about it. They didn’t get the envelope or the keys to the box.” When the thugs jumped him at his apartment, they’d mentioned Trent’s name, and Jared had made the connection, though he’d continued to fake ignorance. While they searched his apartment and broke into the building’s mail boxes, he’d managed to hide the keys in his great-grandfather’s nightstand, worried that they’d kill him if they got their hands on the envelope. His hope was either that Cassi would find the keys and figure out something was wrong, turning it over to the authorities, or that no one would ever find them and the thugs would think the mail had gone astray. Either scenario would buy him time.

  “I didn’t tell them about the post office,” Trent said. “I let them think it went to your apartment.”

  “Do you have any idea how they knew about it in the first place?”

  “My snooping must have alerted someone. I think this is bigger than we knew.” Trent’s body heaved with an involuntary sob. “I’m afraid, Jared. So afraid! I’ve been lying here for I don’t know how long, thinking about Renae and the children. I don’t want to feel any more pain, but I don’t want to die. I don’t want my children to grow up without me. I don’t want Renae to think I’ve deserted her. I—”

  “She won’t think that,” Jared said. “She knows you. And—” He stopped talking and brought his face close to Trent’s. He could hear his rough breathing and feel the wet of his tears. The smell of their joint fear and bloody wounds overshadowed all. “We’re going to make it, Trent. We have to!”

  Trent’s arm gripped his right shoulder, and for a timeless moment they shared their strength, heads pressed together, two weak things becoming strong.

  Jared felt a comforting warmth flood into his body, and he settled next to Trent, too tired and warm to move again. After a long while Trent whisper, “I wish you weren’t here, but I’m glad you are, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know,” Jared said. “I know.”

  They drifted off to sleep and awoke in the morning to find a dim light in the room, coming from two tiny oblong windows located on opposite sides of the back wall. Surveying the area, Jared saw they were in a cement-walled enclosure of some sort, probably a basement. From the dust covering the entire room, he knew it hadn’t been used for anything other than storage for a long time. Or perhaps for keeping prisoners, he thought wryly.

  Trent’s face looked worse than Jared had imagined, but like his own lacerations, the wounds had scabbed over and begun to heal. By far, Jared was sure Trent had taken a more severe beating. Both of his eyes were swollen and black, and he could barely move. The worst of Jared’s aches was on his left shoulder where the punches had aggravated his old gunshot wound.

  A noise at the door interrupted his assessment, and he was surprised to see the thugs of the night before bringing plates of eggs, bacon, and toast. At least they weren’t going to starve to death. The well-dressed guards had an air Jared was sure he recognized. These were no ordinary thugs, but part of an organized group—like the ones who had been after Laranda’s diamond-filled Buddha. What did they want with the envelope? How had they known about it?

  “I wonder who gave you the envelope,” he said to Trent when they were once more alone.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a disgruntled employee who’d had enough?”

  “Would that person be willing to risk his life? You don’t mess around with guys like these.”

  “That’s for sure. But the conscience can be a strong motivator.” Trent shakily gulped the rest of the orange juice he’d been given, spilling some onto the blanket. He was struggling with each bite, but Jared knew his friend wouldn’t appreciate an offer to be fed.

  Jared rubbed his sore left shoulder, grimacing with the pain. His voice dropped to scarcely a whisper. “Whatever I do, we can’t let them know about the key. As long as they don’t have the envelope, we’ll live. Otherwise, we’re the only loose ends left.”

  Trent put a finger to his mouth, sending Jared a silent message: the place might be bugged. Jared didn’t speak further, but he knew it made no difference. Both he and Trent had talked about the envelope and the key last night and today. If they were being overheard, they’d know it soon enough.

  But no one came for them. All day, they sat in the frigid gloom. When they needed to relieve themselves, they scrounged for an empty cardboard box and set it up in the far corner. As the dim light from the windows began to fade, the thugs brought them steak, potatoes, and broccoli. Without a word, they collected the breakfast dishes and left.

  After eating, Jared found the energy to haul the blankets farther from the door, and to help Trent crawl over to his new bed. With a few more blankets, he made himself another thin mattress. The room began to grow even colder. “Where are we that it’s cold?” Jared asked. “San Diego isn’t cold in September, is it?”

  “I don’t think so,” Trent said. “But I think we must be near there. They drove all night before we arrived here from Covina. Maybe there are some mountains nearby.”

  They lapsed into silence. Jared lay back on his bed and wondered when the nightmare would end. He had a sinking feeling it was only the beginning. How much could he and Trent take? And why hadn’t they been questioned again about the envelope? Had the thugs found the keys after all?

  No. If they had, they’d probably be dead.

  Already it was Wednesday night. Twenty-four hours he’d been in this hole. Saturday he was supposed to marry the most beautiful woman in the world.

  He had missed his last tuxedo appointment. What did Cassi think? Where was she?

  Then, subtly, he became aware of Cassi’s presence. The connection was so strong that he felt he could almost touch her. It lasted only a second.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked Trent.

  “No, what?”

  “I thought I heard gunshots.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MORE GUNSHOTS ECHOED INTO CASSI’S hiding place. Despair fell over her. Was there any point in going on? With Linden probably dead and Jared gone without a word . . . maybe she should simply wait here until the police arrived. She closed her eyes. Why hadn’t Jared confided in he
r? Where was he now? In a place more terrible than this?

  As the last thought came, she felt Jared in the darkness.

  “I’m coming,” she whispered to him, but the brief connection had disappeared, leaving her wondering if shock had taken over her imagination.

  “I have to get moving,” she said.

  Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. She still saw nothing except vague shapes, though clearly some light refracted into even this dark hiding place. She wondered if the tunnel would grow darker as it left the house and burrowed into the ground.

  There has to be a light, she thought. Linden would be prepared.

  Cassi searched the tunnel walls immediately around her, making a careful sweep, cringing when she felt the brush of a spider web. At last, in the corner, she discovered a big flashlight on the wall. Disconnecting it from the charging unit, she hefted the light with both hands, giving a sigh of relief as light flooded the tunnel.

  Directly ahead was a sharply declining stairway, and she felt even more grateful for the light. The last thing she needed was a broken ankle. She descended the stairs, turned a corner, and started down another flight of stairs before the sounds of gunshots faded. Until the quiet flooded the tunnel, Cassi hadn’t realized that she’d become almost accustomed to the sounds.

  And Linden? The thought of him now brought an icy hardness to her chest. He was dead or dying, and it was her fault for bringing the envelope. She felt the package now, still inside the waistband of her skirt. Pushing it up a little with the back of the flashlight, she walked on.

  The tunnel seemed to continue forever, with so many twists and turns that she was certain she had completely lost the sense of direction she had always prided herself on having. Still, she concentrated on envisioning her path as it would be seen from above. A left turn here—wasn’t that because of the huge water fountain Linden had in his garden? A right turn there—could that be because of the ancient oak near the pool house?

  From the coolness of the cement walls, Cassi knew she was under the earth. But where would the tunnel lead? To a neighbor’s place, Linden had said. Which one? And how far away?

  The tunnel straightened, and Cassi let her mind relax as she followed it. Immediately, grief flooded in, hitting her square in the chest. Linden, oh, Linden! She pushed the feeling away. Maybe the FBI had arrived. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him.

  An upward slope signaled the tunnel’s end. The ceiling lowered until she had to crouch duck-like as she walked. Shortly, she ran into a dead end where a large white button jutted from the cement wall.

  Cassi set the light down and pushed the button with icy hands. With a groan of protest the door swung open. She jumped out of the way. She needn’t have worried; although the door appeared to be heavy granite, it felt more like wood.

  She saw nothing beyond the door but blackness. Not even a star relieved the deep night. She forged ahead, not permitting her mind to dwell on what might be awaiting her.

  Her feet stumbled on two cement stairs, and then she hit bushes so thick that she wondered if she would ever find her way out. At last she squeezed through and fell onto a patch of manicured grass. She lay still, panting at her previous effort, grateful to be staring up at the moon and stars.

  Almost, she could believe everything was as it had been. Somewhere Linden was alive and well, and Jared was at home waiting with dinner for her. Or at his apartment, sound asleep.

  A gurgling sound and a stream of water brought Cassi to her senses. She jumped to her feet but was unable to escape the water spraying from the sprinklers she could hear but couldn’t see. Instinctively, she ran toward the lights and a vague house across the wide expanse of lawn. She knew she had to hurry—even now her presence could be alerting silent alarms in the police station and in the property owner’s house. She might be shot before she could bring help to Linden.

  The sound of dogs barking urged her to quicken her pace. A fast runner at even the worst of times, she now felt her body flying through the air, the lights of the heavens illuminating her path. Not until she left the active sprinklers behind did Cassi begin to question the wisdom of running toward the mansion and the dogs. It might be better to get to the street and flag down a vehicle. Through the trees on her right, she glimpsed a tall granite wall. It was too high to jump, but if she climbed a tree, she might be able to get over.

  Cassi changed direction, running faster than before. She reached a huge oak near the wall and jumped for the lowest branch, falling short and landing in a heap on the grass.

  Her lungs begged for rest, but the barking came to her louder now. Backing up, she tried again. Her fingers touched the branch and grabbed hold. As she swung her body up into the tree, one of her pumps fell to the ground. Her foot crunched painfully against the rough bark, but climbing was easier so she kicked off the other shoe as well.

  She climbed until she found a branch that reached out over the wall. Inching along on her belly, she forced herself to go as fast as possible. Hurry, hurry! She was glad it was dark and hoped the shadows would hide her.

  “The dogs have found something!” she heard someone yell.

  Cassi checked the envelope at her waist. It was bent, but still in place. She wrapped her hands around the branch and allowed her body to swing down to the top of the wall. With relief, she saw a street on the other side of the granite wall instead of another estate. It shouldn’t cost her more than a few additional scrapes and bruises to get down.

  “Stop right there,” a cold voice said. “Don’t even think about moving. I’ve got a gun.”

  Cassi could see the man below, though his features weren’t clear. She was tempted to jump down to the ground on the other side of the wall, but the tone of his voice told her he hadn’t made the threat lightly. Maybe she could explain and he would help Linden. Wrapping her arms around her waist to hide the envelope, she stood on the hard stone, feeling wet, exposed, and miserable.

  “That’s a wise choice,” the man said. Two growling Dobermans had joined him now, and with them a young boy. “Quiet!” the man ordered without taking his eyes from Cassi. The growls ceased. “Now, what are you doing on my property?”

  “I—I—I . . .” Cassi couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts.

  “You have approximately sixty seconds until the police arrive.”

  Cassi was tempted to wait it out rather than explain, but the man’s next words startled her. “Or I can tell the men who are up at the house now looking for someone who fits your description. They say you stole something.”

  Cassi clenched her teeth. “They shot Linden,” she said, motioning vaguely in the direction she assumed Linden’s house to be. “He might be dead. We have to help him. I have to find Jared, too.” Her voice broke. “Please let me go.”

  A sound across the grass made them both fall into silence. “Stay here,” the man said. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and together they walked toward two approaching men. “Nothing here,” he called to them. “Just an animal. Must have set off the alarms. It happens sometimes.”

  “An animal, huh?” One of the newcomers scanned the darkness, and Cassi inched her way along the wall so the tree blocked him from sight. She took the manila envelope from her waist and set it on the wall as close as possible to the far side. If they found her, perhaps she could at least hide the information they sought.

  “We can review the camera tape if you’d like. The police will be here soon, and I’m sure they’ll want to check it out.”

  “No need. We’ll look elsewhere.” Without another word, the two turned on their heels and strode away.

  Cassi sat on the wall, letting first one nylon-covered foot dangle over the edge and then the other. She was about to grab the envelope and jump down to freedom when the man approached again. He stood close enough for her to make out his handsome features. Dark hair, long enough to show a little curl at the front, a strong chin with a deep dimple, and black eyes framed with thick eyebrows. His face was compassio
nate and alive, with an underlying firmness that attracted her. She guessed his age to be in his mid-forties, though she couldn’t be certain.

  She hesitated. “Thank you,” she felt obligated to say.

  “They’ll catch you if you leave that way,” he said without expression. “And they look like they mean business.”

  Cassi’s mind raced. The stranger was right. It was all too possible that the men who’d shot Linden were watching the streets in this area. She pulled her feet up and set them flat on the stone, hugging her knees. She tugged her skirt to cover her exposed skin.

  “Did they really shoot my new neighbor?” The man looked in the direction Cassi had indicated earlier.

  She gulped, tasting something sour. “At least three times, maybe more. I don’t know. It happened so fast.”

  “But why? What did they want?”

  There was nothing in the stranger’s voice to signal a change, but Cassi felt goose bumps on her arms and a warning in her heart. She moved slowly along the wall, away from the manila envelope, pretending to search for a more comfortable position.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But my fiancé is missing, and Linden thinks he must have something they want. I’m afraid I don’t know what it is.” Cassi felt a little guilty at the half-truth, but she told herself she didn’t know what was in the envelope, so that part at least was true.

  “Didn’t Mr. Johansen have any idea?”

  “No. We were talking about it when some men came. I barely got away.” She let her voice drop. “Please, we need to call an ambulance. It might not be too late.”

  “All right.” He retrieved a cell phone from a pocket in his black pants and pushed a button. “This is Quentin Thomas Holbrooke, and I need to report a false alarm at my estate. Yes, I know they are probably outside the gate already. It took some time to determine it was just an animal. No, I don’t want them to look around. But where we need them is at the estate next door. There’s been a break-in, and I think my neighbor’s been hurt. He’ll need an ambulance. No, I don’t know why his alarm didn’t work. That’s right, send them there—and hurry. Thank you.” His voice had the patient, condescending tone Cassi had heard more than once in her dealings with art connoisseurs. He was obviously a man who expected to be obeyed.