"Damn those framer men. They're trackin' sawdust all over the place. We need to talk with Hank about this. He needs to make them clean up their mess every day." Seated across from her, Sharon fumed about the latest inconvenience. Marisol nodded to make her happy.
Construction at New Beginnings had reached a boiling point of progress that involved a frenzy of activity both in and outside the shelter. Though the noise and dust and crowds of work crews were testing Sharon's and the rest of the staff's sanity, Marisol passed through the cacophony in a haze of happiness.
"I know. Jeff leaves his clothes everywhere."
Glancing up, Sharon's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Sugar? Are you even listenin' to me? Earth callin' Planet Lovestruck. Are you there, Mari?"
"Of course I'm here. I'm sitting right across from you." She was in love with Jefferson Traynor. And Jeff was in love with her. Her days were spent smiling, no matter what issue arose.
Sharon snorted. "You've gone as moony over Stud Muffin as Annie has over Hank. I've lost my foreman and my best volunteer in the space of a week. Are you next?"
"I'm busier than ever," she protested. "If I'm mooning, it's productive mooning." Mari grinned when the older woman rolled her eyes.
"Spare me all this love going 'round. What are we going to do when Annie moves out?"
Aware that Sharon was working up a head of steam, Mari shifted her focus. "Annie was excessive with her hours because she was basically trapped here. Now that's she's safe to move, we won't lose her forever. Until she finds a nursing job, she's going to continue to help us out."
"At least we're freeing up a family space," Sharon agreed. "That waiting list is long. Whoever has the misfortune of being next on the list will have big shoes to fill."
Checking her watch, Mari rose from her desk. "Hector's bus is in fifteen minutes. I need to head out there."
Nodding, Sharon's gaze was fixed on her computer. "When you come back, can you check in with Hank to remind him we need an updated construction schedule? Now that they're working inside, we need to huddle with the staff at least once a week so we can plan how to work around the construction."
Waving to Pete as she left the shelter, Mari's mind sifted through a dozen different issues. Work was getting crazy— her days running together in a blur. To top it off, her parents were visiting this weekend. She still hadn't managed to find the right time to tell Jeff about her former relationship with Nick. Now— she'd be forced to do it tonight. The last thing she wanted was for her parents to mention the incident casually in his presence. It wasn't fair to blindside Jeff with something she should have explained months ago.
This would be the first time her family met Jefferson— with the exception of Manny, who, as far as she knew, hadn't returned since stalking them in April. Though he'd certainly reported back to her father on the details of his surveillance trip, she hadn't heard a peep from her sisters. Surely, if her mom knew the full story, then Serafina and Caridad would have pounced on her for details.
It wasn't as though she was worried about their visit. Her mother and sisters were going to love Jeff. Her overprotective father— perhaps not so much. But that would be the case no matter who she'd eventually brought home. Luis Ortega would spend the entire weekend grilling Jeff like a Cuban chorizo over a low, steady heat. In spite of the quiet strum of dread pooling in her belly, Mari chuckled. Jeff was about to experience a close encounter with a patriarchal cattle prod.
Her thoughts drifted to Luz Covas. Since the visit with Hector ten days earlier and her belligerent demands for a reinstatement of parental rights, she'd gone suspiciously quiet. Relief over Luz' disappearance warred with Mari's desire to just get the adoption over with. Luz's demands fluctuated with her drug use. Before her recent visit, she'd gone eight months without contact. And it had been wonderful. When Luz was using, she didn't care about anyone or anything. But Hector's mother was never really gone for good. Unless the court agreed to move up the date of her adoption hearing, the best Mari could hope for was Luz just staying away.
Ignoring the seductive aroma of baking bread, she studiously avoided the bakery as she turned the corner. She'd be faced with the same dilemma on the return trip— only with Hector, it was always the brightly iced cupcakes he wanted to indulge in. Clearing the corner with her willpower still in check, Mari heard her phone beep and smiled when she heard Jeff's husky voice. "Hey, I'm on my way to pick up Hector at the bus stop. Are you at the shelter?"
Savoring the sound of his confident, sexy rasp, Mari slowed her pace to a stroll. Something about talking with Jeff on the phone felt intimate. It reminded her of talking with him late at night, sharing their thoughts in the dark. "You don't have to meet us. We'll be back in probably— ten minutes." Since he was obviously excited about a small toy he'd picked up for Hector, she let him convince her that he should join them for the walk back. "Okay, I'll be waiting at the bus stop."
Checking her watch, Marisol hastened her pace. Hector's driver was usually prompt. Gladys had been driving the route for nearly twenty years. Only a block away, Mari saw the bus in the distance and hustled the last half block. As Hector's bus approached, Mari could see Gladys at the wheel. Smiling, she raised her hand to wave.
Gladys' expression went quickly from friendly recognition to puzzlement. By the time she pulled to the curb, Marisol sensed an undercurrent of anxiety. Something was wrong.
Jerking the bus to a halt, the elderly woman slammed on the brakes. Concerned, Marisol took a step back. When the door jerked open, Gladys flew down the steps, her skin blanched, her eyes shocked. What on earth— was she ill? Lord— was she having a heart attack?
"Gladys? What's wrong?"
"Oh my God— oh my God-"
It took only a moment for Marisol's blood to ice over. It suddenly hurt to breathe around the stabbing panic in her chest. "Where's Hector? Gladys? Where is Hector?"
Turning around, Gladys lumbered back up onto the bus, snatching her radio. "Dispatch— dispatch— we have a code ten. I repeat, a code ten."
As the scratchy voice of the dispatcher repeated back the code, Gladys grew hysterical. "Call the police," she shouted. "A child has been kidnapped from stop number twelve."
Kidnapped.
"Hector," she whispered. Over the roaring in her ears, Marisol heard the frantic terror in the elderly woman's voice as she provided their location.
Fumbling with her phone, Marisol couldn't prevent the sobs cascading from her chest as she dialed 911.
***
Whistling, Jeff rounded the corner, eager to show Hector the balsa wood airplane they would assemble after dinner. He'd seen it at lunchtime and promptly remembered how much he'd loved playing with them as a kid. After baseball practice— and prior to Mari scolding them about bath time, he and Hector would have a brief window of opportunity to launch a few test flights from the deck. Grinning, he was already imagining the feasibility of launching from Hector's upstairs bedroom window— and how they'd get away with it without Marisol finding out.
Life was good. Amazingly good. The addition at New Beginnings was ahead of schedule, Jake had just given him the go ahead to price three new projects— and he was in love with Marisol Ortega. Ever since he'd finally said the words aloud, Jeff had discovered he couldn't stop saying them. He didn't want to stop saying them.
If anyone had suggested to him three months, two weeks and four days earlier that he would be off-the-charts in love with someone, Jeff would have laughed in disbelief. He would have bet thousands of dollars against the prediction and been completely confident he'd win such an easy sucker's bet.
The strangest thing about this new life— this new perspective— was how freeing it had been. Through the filtered lens of his parents' divorce, Jeff had completely overlooked so many facts. That his parents' marriage had actually been good for many years. That they had truly loved each other. That they still loved and respected each other. He'd never bothered to weigh the other variables— too much focus on work, too m
uch outside stress— that had taken such a heavy toll on his parents' relationship. He'd synthesized all the bad emotions— all the anger and fear, the isolation he'd experienced those last few years of high school, and those images had become the ones embedded in his memory. Like a talisman, Jeff had carried them inside him as an adult. As though the only true way to ever prevent being hurt by a woman was to completely avoid any emotional connection.
The sound of sirens in the distance broke into his thoughts. Lots of sirens, he corrected. Growing closer by the second. His skin prickled to attention as Jeff realized the wailing sound was damn close to where he was heading— Hector's bus stop. Unsure what he would find, he began to run. Each step he took, Jeff grew more certain that something was terribly wrong. Rounding the corner, his eyes snapped pictures. The bus pulled over at an odd angle— as though it had pulled up too fast. Marisol— God . . . had she been hit? Police officers milling through the street. Where was Mari? The knot of fear in his chest loosened only slightly when he saw her. Marisol's back was to him, but it was definitely her. And she was alright. Whole. Standing upright. Not bleeding.
But then she turned in his direction. The terror etched on her face caused him to stumble. Her eyes— wide and vacant— as though she'd seen something unspeakable. Jeff was suddenly overcome by a sense of anguished desperation— as though he'd stepped into a force field of agony. Then Mari's eyes finally focused— locking on him as he closed the distance between them— as he ran to reach her. And Jeff knew. It was something awful. Hector.
"What is it? What's happened?" Jeff wrestled through the gathering crowd. Onlookers asking questions. Damn them— couldn't they step back? Just get the hell out of the way? He heard the word 'kidnap' from one of the shopkeepers milling around on the sidewalk.
Mari was in shock when he reached her. Her eyes huge and starkly blue in her deathly pale face. Shaking with fear. "What happened? Mari? Honey— tell me what's happened."
"Hector," she whispered. "He's g-gone. Gladys— she . . . let him off t-two stops back."
"Why the hell would she-"
Her shoulders shaking, Mari began sobbing. "There was s-someone waiting for him— she h-had a wig on. And sunglasses."
Cursing, Jeff pulled her into his arms. He wanted desperately to shout, to swear, to hit something. To rail at the gods for allowing something like this to happen. "Luz. It was Luz."
She nodded against his chest, still quaking violently. "Gladys said Hector s-stopped. On the bottom step. As though— he knew . . . he knew it wasn't r-right. But she was distracted. And she sh— shooed him off the bus so she could stay on schedule."
Tightening his hold on her, he rested his head on top of hers, as though by doing so, he might be able to absorb some of her violent tremors into his own body. "Did she see anything else?"
Inhaling a shuddering breath, Mari released it slowly, the effort to calm herself probably the only thing keeping her from completely breaking down. "As she pulled away, Gladys started thinking it was odd for him to be picked up in the wrong place. She watched them in the rearview mirror."
"Did she see anything helpful— a car? Another person? Where the hell is this other bus stop?" One arm still wrapped around her, Jeff tugged out his phone. He needed his brother-in-law. He needed access to information. Charlie could relay details he wouldn't be able to get from the local cops.
"She saw Luz tug him across the street. Gladys says she realizes now that Hector was fighting her, but in the mirror, it just looked like she was in a hurry. She said Luz got into a car parked at the corner."
"What color? What make? Model? Anything? Does she have anything that can help us?" His voice hoarse with anger, the desire to shout was growing stronger. But if there was ever a time for Jeff to not lose it—that time was now. He had to stay focused and calm. He had to keep his brain functioning instead of seizing up in terror.
"Only that it was dark blue. And old. Rusted. A car— not a truck." Her eyes distracted, Marisol tried to remember. "And there was at least one hubcap missing on the driver's side."
A cop was approaching them. Jeff saw him separate from a huddle, heading in their direction. Nodding to him, he released Marisol. "Honey— I think they need to talk to you."
Disoriented, Mari lifted her head from his chest. "Okay— will . . . will you wait for me? W-will you still be here?"
His heart aching for her— for them . . . he slowly nodded. "I'll be right here."
***
Several phone calls later, a beehive of activity had begun at New Beginnings. Jeff had called everyone he could think of to help them. Though it was clearly a matter for the police— and the feds, as of forty-five minutes earlier— Jeff knew he couldn't just sit around and wait for something to happen. Whether his actions would be helpful or not— he had to do something. Anything. Or he'd go crazy.
Two hours had ticked by since Hector disappeared. Two hours. He could be anywhere. Luz could be driving somewhere— far away. Jeff swallowed around the lump that had stuck in his throat, his jaw working to dislodge the terror. She could have holed up somewhere. Somewhere terrible. Disgusting. Dangerous. Or she could have done the unthinkable. Though his brain wanted to tumble there— to the terrible, dark place without any hope— he couldn't allow it. Thinking that way would paralyze him.
Hank and Big Pete were mobilizing a group of volunteers. Sharon had contacted Marisol's family. They'd piled into cars and were on their way from Baltimore. After contacting Charlie, who had already heard about the kidnapping internally, Jeff had called his brother. In turn, Jake had called Harry and they'd shut the office down. Through the field grapevine, several superintendents from other Specialty project sites had shut down their projects and were now gathering in the shelter's parking lot, taking direction from Hank. Big Pete had mobilized a motley crew of concrete, drywall and framing subcontractors who were eager to help if they could.
If he hadn't been numb— with fear and despair, Jeff would have smiled over the unity his family had shown— both his work family and his real one. He watched Jake's wife Jenna as she arrived to join his parents. Together, they were helping Marisol hold it together until her parents could arrive. Harry's wife Kendall had driven to Jake's house to babysit all the kids.
"Jeff— can you come here a sec?" Hank's gravelly voice broke into his thoughts. "We think we might have something promising."
Hope flared through him like an electrical current. Anything. Anything would be better than just sitting here. "What is it?"
Scratching his head as they headed for the parking lot, Hank gave it to him straight. "Could be nothin'. Could be a wild goose chase. But Pete thinks he's found a connection."
"Pete? Pete thinks he's found something?" His hope dissolving in frustration, Jeff tried not to be discouraged. "God, Hank— he sees conspiracies in every delivery truck."
Jerking his arm, Hank stopped him as they approached the parking lot. "I said it could be a wild goose chase, son." The older man stared at him hard— staring right through him. "Now— get yourself together. You're not helping anyone with that attitude. We've got a lot of people here who are willing to traipse into the nastiest areas of this city to look for your boy. So, you need to snap out of it."
Dragging in a tortured breath, Jeff nodded. He'd needed a headslap to clear it— and Hank had just delivered. Big time. "You're right, man. I'm sorry. I'm— I'm a little crazy right now."
"You're actually not much worse than your usual crazy."
Forcing a smile he didn't feel, Jeff knew he would have to go through the motions until they uncovered more information. It would be the only thing to keep him sane. "What does Pete think he's discovered?"
"Okay— so here it is. Pete has been keeping a diary since the start of construction."
"His notebook? Yeah . . . I know." Distracted, he wondered where this was leading.
"Well, I never knew about it until he managed to track me down last week when I went after Phil."
"He keeps tr
ack of . . . everything. Cars. Delivery trucks." He thought of Marisol's brother tailing her. Pete's dire warning months earlier about the red truck . . . that had turned out to be Manny.
"Exactly. Among other things, he keeps lists of every car— within a two block radius of the shelter. And he updates the damn thing hourly. That's how he traced Phil's car— through the plate number."
"He— he tracks plate numbers?" A cold chill swept through him. "So— if Luz has been watching this place . . . watching Hector's schedule . . . then she might be in his notebook."
"Might," Hank emphasized. "If she was driving, or— even if she had someone driving her around," he confirmed.
"God— he keeps plate numbers." Lightheaded over the possibility of a lead— even a slim lead, Jeff quickened his pace. "A blue car— dark blue . . . sounded roughed up from the bus driver's description."
Patting his shoulder as they approached the crowd in the parking lot, Hank pushed him forward to where Big Pete stood. "Pete— tell him what you got."
Chapter 12
"Here, Sugar. Drink this."
A cup of something hot was shoved into Marisol's hands. Like an automaton, she raised it to her lips— needing both hands to get the cup to her mouth. She couldn't stop shaking. The violent tremors had taken over her limbs the moment she'd heard that Hector was missing. And now they'd taken up residence.
"Marisol— sweetie, your parents are coming." Sharon's sturdy cocoa hands grabbed hers, rubbing them as she spoke. As though she had the power to transfer her warmth into Mari's icy, lifeless body. "They should be here in the next half hour."
Mari nodded, because she knew it was what she was supposed to do. Acknowledge people. Acknowledge kindness. But the fact was, she wasn't even there anymore. It was as though she were outside her body— watching everyone fluttering around the crushed, broken shell of a woman. The other Marisol was hunched over in a chair— her face aged at least ten years— her eyes wide and vacant as they stared at the blank wall. Was this it, then? Was this her breakdown?
Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) Page 22