by Lynsay Sands
"I'm sorry," she began sincerely. "Gran only knocked you out to prevent your getting yourself or Edie killed by doing something wild."
"Wild?" He looked at her as if she were insane. "I'm an accountant! We aren't wild! We're cautious and meticulous and boring!"
"Really?" she asked with interest. "Is that how you see yourself? You don't seem boring to me."
He didn't look pleased by her compliment.
Jane sighed. "Well, your standing as an accountant aside, you were quite wound up and obviously prepared to try to save Edie right there. Which would have been foolish. Her abductors were probably armed."
"I see," he said stiffly. "And this?" He jerked against the padded metal bars holding his legs and arms.
"Oh, well...that was...so you wouldn't fall out of your seat?" Jane suggested, knowing it was a lame explanation even as she said it. He didn't appear to be buying it either, so she hurried on, "Look, just relax. I'll get Gran in the van, and then remove the restraints."
"Remove the restraints and then get your gran into the van," he countered.
"I can't. She has my purse with the keys." Jane lied calmly. The keys were nestled in her front right pocket, but she didn't trust Abel not to hop out of the van and cause trouble the moment he was free. She intended to only remove the restraints while the van was moving--there was then less likelihood of his leaping out. She hoped.
"I--"
"We're wasting time," Jane interrupted. "Time that could be better spent figuring out how to get Edie back."
Abel snapped his mouth closed, and Jane felt relief seep through her.
"I'll be right back." She opened the door and slid out, relieved when he remained quiet.
Closing the door, Jane walked back around the van...to stop dead when she saw a police officer being attacked by Tinkle. Well, "attacked" was an ambitious description. The little fur-ball did have the man's boot in her mouth and was snarling and trying to jerk from side to side, but the cop was a bit more than she could manage. His boot wasn't moving. As for the officer, he was staring down at the Yorkie with a rather amused look on his face.
Gran berated the dog ineffectively. "Tinkle! Bad doggie! Let go of the nice policeman! Bad Tinkle. Bad!"
Jane closed her eyes, rubbed her forehead, and wondered how everything had gotten so out of control. Normally, she led the most serene life. Well, aside from nearly blowing off coworker's heads with her inventions.
"Oh, Janie, dear! Thank goodness! Make Tinkle let go of the nice policeman."
Jane opened her eyes and started forward again. Managing to produce an apologetic smile from somewhere deep inside, she bent to scoop up the dog, who promptly tried to bite her. Jane deposited the hellion in her grandmother's lap, then turned to face the officer. Like Abel, he was tall and well put together. Very well put together, Jane noted. And movie-star handsome with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and strong features.
"You must be Janie."
He offered his hand and a dazzling smile that Jane couldn't resist. She found herself grinning like an idiot as she placed her hand in his and said, "And you must be...that 'nice policeman.' "
"This is Officer Alkars, Jane," Gran announced. "He saw me sitting here alone and stopped to be sure I didn't need any help. I was just explaining that you'd gone to put our purses inside when Tinkle attacked him for no reason." She scowled down at her Yorkie. "Bad dog."
"I'm terribly sorry about that," Jane said as Officer Alkars's eyebrows rose at the lack of heat behind Gran's reprimand. "But thank you for stopping."
"Any time. It's my job," he pointed out, his smile widening. Then he nodded and turned to walk toward the restaurant.
Jane watched him go, thinking that Gran had been right: They did "grow them handsome" here.
"Is everything all right, dear?" Gran asked, drawing her attention away from Officer Alkars as he disappeared into the restaurant.
"Yes," Jane answered. "For now."
Much to her relief, Abel remained silent as Jane got Gran back into the van and stowed the wheelchair. But she could feel his furious eyes drilling holes into her as she worked.
"Dear, why don't you get Abel a breakfast to go? He must be starved," Gran suggested as Jane finished with the wheelchair and crawled out of the van. Prepared to close the side door, Jane paused and glanced between them. "I don't think--"
"I do," Gran said firmly. "Go. We'll be fine."
"No, wait!" Abel protested. "Remove the restraints first, and--"
Jane closed the door on the rest of Abel's protest and headed back into the restaurant. If Gran thought she could manage the man, let her try. It was more than Jane herself felt up to doing.
Jane approached the girl at the cash register with a forced smile. She wanted to wince. The bright yellow uniforms were still painful, but she knew that was only because her eyes were sore and tired from driving all night. She ordered a breakfast special and coffee to go, paid for it, then turned away, ostensibly to survey the other patrons, but really to avoid the glare of the yellow uniform as she waited for her order.
Her gaze drifted to the parked van in the lot and she worried over what Gran might be doing to poor Abel. Hopefully, she was convincing him to cooperate and not doing anything to increase his anger.
Jane sighed. If she thought for one minute that contacting the police would get Edie out safe and sound, she'd have a much easier time of it. But she didn't believe that. Instead Jane feared police intervention would lead to an armed standoff or Edie disappearing altogether. If the Ensecksis were under the eye of B.L.I.S.S., as well as the Feds, they were no small-time organization. The very fact that B.L.I.S.S. was unable to get information about them was enough to prove they had a pretty savvy setup. Calling in the local police would be like calling in the Keystone Cops. Not because the local police weren't likely perfectly competent, but because they simply wouldn't be prepared for this sort of mess. Mind control, she thought with a frisson of fear.
The door to the restaurant opened and Jane glanced nervously toward it. A young couple entered. Starting to turn back to the counter, relaxing, Jane paused, her gaze catching on their clothing. It was the same as everyone else's; the pretty blonde wore a gold sundress of simple design and the fellow wore a Hawaiian shirt.
Jane scowled. This had to be proof of the mind control Gran had suggested earlier. And it was the perfect test, she admitted to herself. A harmless yet telling fashion test.
"Can I get another cream there, Jennie?"
Jane glanced around to find Officer Alkars at her side. He smiled at her as he waited for the waitress to fetch his cream. "The food's so good you had to get some to go, hmm?" he asked conversationally.
Jane managed a smile and a nod.
"Your grandmother will be fine," the policeman assured her; then he explained, "You keep looking out at your van like you fear it is going to be stolen at any moment with her in it. She'll be fine. This is a pretty good town. Not much crime here. Sonora is the county seat, so we have the State Highway Patrol and the County Sheriff as well as the local police. Not much goes on." He grinned again. "Having all these police around scares criminals away."
"I know," Jane said, then could have kicked herself when his gaze sharpened. "That was a selling point in our coming here. No crime," she lied quickly.
"Have you moved here, or are you on vacation?" he asked.
Jane felt panic swamp her. She didn't know how to answer. If B.L.I.S.S. succeeded in buying the house next door to the one where Edie was being held, then she was going to be moving in. But what if they didn't?
"Here you go, ma'am."
Jane turned back to the counter with relief and didn't even mind being called ma'am. She knew she probably looked every one of her almost thirty years thanks to the long drive and lack of sleep. Forcing a smile, she took her coffee and the Styrofoam container of food, muttered a thanks, and then hurried out of the restaurant before Officer Alkars could ask another question she didn't want to answer.
&nbs
p; Jane was moving at a quick clip as she left the restaurant, but her steps slowed when she spotted a car pulling into the parking lot. Distinctly recalling Abel's bellowing the first time she opened the van door--and the second time--and unsure what to expect when she opened it this time, Jane slowed, allowing the car to park and its passengers to spill out and make their way toward the restaurant. She wasn't terribly surprised to see yet another middle-aged woman in yellow with a laughing husband in a Hawaiian shirt, but the sight of the two preteen girls with them, both wearing equally yellow dresses, convinced Jane beyond all doubt there was something amiss in Sonora.
Returning the group's friendly smiles as she passed, Jane reached the van and began digging in her pocket as if in search of keys. She waited until the restaurant door had closed behind the family, then quickly opened the driver's door, leaped inside, and slammed it shut.
Much to her relief there was no bellowing this time. Still, she peered at the man in the passenger seat warily. Jane was so exhausted that it took a moment for her to notice that he was no longer in restraints. He also wasn't looking quite as angry, although he didn't exactly look friendly. Abel was eyeing her as if she were some dangerous exotic creature.
"It's time to book a motel room and get some rest," Maggie Spyrus announced firmly as Jane handed the coffee and Styrofoam container of food to Abel.
"I thought you wanted to shop for clothes," Jane said with surprise.
"Madge called. She said we were to check into a motel and sit tight. B.L.I.S.S. is arranging something."
"Did you tell her about all the yellow dresses?" Jane asked as she started the van.
"Yes. They thought it was terribly interesting. Now, let's find a motel before you fall asleep at the wheel."
Jane shrugged, unsure. She was exhausted and a nap sounded great, but she didn't trust Abel. While she was doing her napping, she might have to leave him in the restraints in the van. Or cuff him to a bed.
They didn't have to drive far to find a motel. Jane wasn't fussy, she pulled in at the first sign she saw: THE SONORA SUNSET INN. With one long row of rose-colored doors on a pink adobe building it looked terribly gawdy, but Jane didn't care as long as it wasn't yellow.
She parked in front of the door to the main office, left Gran and Abel in the van while she rented two rooms, managing to get them side by side. Then she parked the vehicle halfway between the two.
"Perhaps you should see me into my room first, Janie, dear. Then you can release Abel's leg restraints and cuff him to your wrists. You did bring handcuffs, didn't you?"
"Yes." Jane glanced with surprise at the metal band still around Abel's legs. It seemed Gran had only released the upper restraints, not the ones around his lower legs.
"I told you I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize Edie," Abel said wearily, speaking for the first time since the restaurant.
"I know, dear boy. But love rarely has reason, and you might come up with what you think is a brilliant plan to rescue your sister and do something foolish. I like Edie too much to see you do something foolish."
Too tired to argue, Jane got out, slammed the door, and walked around the van. It took very little time to get Gran in her wheelchair, and Jane wheeled her into the first motel room with Tinkle following.
"I'll just settle Abel in the next room, then bring in Tinkle's food and the rest of the stuff and get you ready for bed," she suggested as she headed toward the door.
"No, dear. You'd better get me ready first, then bring Tinkle's food. Then you can settle in next door with Abel without worrying about me."
Jane paused in the doorway and turned slowly. "What?"
Gran grimaced. "We can't trust him yet, Janie. He will realize soon enough that the smartest route is to follow our lead, but in the meantime you can't leave him alone. You'll have to sleep with him handcuffed to you."
"But...Can't I just handcuff him to the bed in the next room and..." Her question died as Gran shook her head.
"He isn't a stupid boy. He might be able to unlock the cuffs."
"He isn't exactly Houdini, Gran. He--"
"Trust me, dear. You'll have to keep him close." Slumping in defeat, Jane moved back toward her. "What if you need me?"
"I can call if I need anything. Trust me, you need to be with him more than me."
------
Abel stared at the door into which Jane and Maggie Spyrus had disappeared. He had no idea what was taking so long, but he suspected the two women were plotting what to do with him next. It was all right with him, though; it gave him the opportunity to berate himself. He couldn't believe he'd been such an idiot. Hell, he wasn't even sure yet the extent of his idiocy.
According to Maggie Spyrus, she and her granddaughter were agents working for some secret company named B.L.I.S.S. He'd laughed at that claim until she'd pointed out that he was sitting restrained in the passenger seat of a van. How many vans did he think were made with padded restraints? Which had killed his laughter and caught his attention long enough for her to point out more corroborative evidence: Edie was wearing a tracker. Jane, who supposedly worked for a toy company, had a mini satellite computer and a program to follow her. The old woman herself had knocked him out with powder from a face compact.
Abel had promptly bombarded Jane's gran with questions. Had Edie come to them with suspicions about her work? Had the Spyruses been planted as his sister's neighbors to watch over her and failed? Just what were they going to do about Edie's being kidnapped? Maggie hadn't answered any of his questions, however. She'd said she couldn't give him any more information until she had the okay from her superiors.
It all had convinced Abel to quit his shouting and struggling, but he wasn't sure how much to believe. If Jane and her grandmother were spies and had been asked to keep his sister safe, why wasn't Edie safe? And why had it taken so long for Jane to check the tracker? Were they really just incompetent spies? Or were they working with the Ensecksis? They seemed to want to keep him busy and out of the way for some reason. He didn't know if he was in the hands of the enemy or the good guys, but he intended to find--.
Abel's thoughts came to a crashing halt when the side door suddenly opened behind him. Shifting in his seat, he craned his neck to see Jane leaning in to collect Tinkle's empty dog cage.
"I'll only be a couple more minutes," she told him, catching the cage under one arm and grabbing a bag of dog food.
Abel didn't comment. Not that she'd have heard anyway; the words were barely out of her mouth before she straightened, slid the door closed with one elbow, then disappeared into the motel again.
She didn't take nearly as long this time, but when she came back out, Abel was annoyed to see Jane had Tinkle on a leash. She started walking along the building with the animal, but the evil fur-ball stopped and sat down, refusing to move. Jane picked up the spoiled dog and carried it to the patch of grass at the end of the motel.
Abel watched for several minutes before he realized that he wasn't being productive; his eyes hadn't left Jane's butt in those tight frayed jeans for the whole time! He immediately forced himself to drop his gaze. It fell on the Styrofoam container on his lap and he considered having something to eat. He was hungry, but he knew that the moment he started to eat, Jane would no doubt finish walking her dog and come to fetch him.
He was right. His gaze raised to the woman and dog again to see that Jane was carrying it back to the motel room. This time she was inside an even shorter amount of time than before, and when she came out and started toward the van, Abel had the vague hope that he was finally going to be released. But she bypassed his door. Opening the back, she began to drag out bags.
"I could help with that," he offered, his mind running over possible ways to get the upper hand and force her to tell him the truth about everything.
"No, thanks. I'll be right back." The hatch closed and he was left to watch Jane carry her bags into the second motel room. She made two trips. On the last she carried in Mr. Tibbs and all his paraphernalia. T
hat time she was gone longer than the others, and Abel was beginning to think she planned to leave him in the van while she slept, but then the door opened and she slid out again. He felt himself tense as she moved to his door. Free at last!
It opened.
She smiled.
Click.
Abel stared down at the handcuff on his right wrist. It was attached to one on her left.
"It's electrified," she announced apologetically. Pushing a button, she removed his leg restraints. "Programmed so that if you struggle too much you get a zap. So we're going to have to be careful."
"I see." He raised his gaze to hers and challenged, "So I can't struggle. But what if I shout?"
"Then I press this." She held up her unencumbered right hand to reveal a small black box and pushed a button. Abel jerked in his seat as a shock ran up his arm from his wrist. It hurt! "It's set to low right now," Jane added. "I can set it higher."
Abel didn't miss the threat. He didn't appreciate it much either. It was hard to believe these were the good guys. He'd barely had that thought when Jane explained, "I'm sorry, but like my gran I'm very fond of Edie. We've become good friends. I won't risk her brother doing something foolish to get her killed."
"I'm an accountant," Abel reiterated wearily. "Foolish isn't in my vocabulary." When Jane didn't appear convinced, he heaved a sigh. "Can I at least get out now?"
"Sure." She stepped back so he could.
Abel shifted and stepped down from the van, unable to restrain a groan as his muscles stretched. It had been hours since he'd gotten out of that seat. He noted the sympathetic glance Jane sent his way, but chose not to acknowledge it; ignored her as she closed the van door and locked it. She then led him to the second motel room.
It was the smallest he'd ever seen. It held one double bed, a small table, and a chair. There was a television on the dresser, and a door he presumed led into a bathroom. All of it was crowded together, leaving a very narrow walking space around the bed. He was glad he wasn't claustrophobic.
"I let Mr. Tibbs out, set up his cat litter and fed him," Jane announced as she locked the motel room door. "But I think he's hiding under the bed. He doesn't seem to have taken well to travel. Do you need to use the washroom or anything?"