Dark and Deadly

by Jeanne Adams

  “For lawyers, yes. I guess I don’t want anyone to feel that there’s an outsider in their midst.”

  “Nonsense. Here we are,” he said, holding the door. She slid into the limo to find a small table holding hors d’oeuvres and champagne. She also found a smiling Paul Jameson.

  “Hello, Torie.”

  She couldn’t help it. Her heart began to race.

  “There now, my dear,” Pratt said as he settled into the seat. “Have a canapé. We’ll ask Paul to pop that cork so we can have a little private celebration. I quite surprised our Paul by inviting you to be my guest, you know.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “He’s a stubborn lad, our Paul,” Pratt said, smiling fondly at Paul. “I’ve told him that life is short. He listens politely, then does what he wants, much like any young man.”

  There was a muffled pop and Paul directed the frothing bubbly into flutes clipped into the small table.

  They each took a glass and raised them.

  “To friendships long and dear. To life, and new beginnings.” Pratt raised his glass and drank, and she and Paul did the same.

  “So, Torie dear, are you going to let us represent you and harass your employers?”

  He said it with such jovial good humor that she almost agreed before she realized what he was saying. “I’m not sure, Pratt. I’m considering…” she hesitated, but Paul gave a subtle nod. “I’m considering going out on my own. I’ve built a reputation and have been asked several times if I would consider jobs outside the office.” Once she got started, it all came out in a rush.

  “Well, not to push our business on you, but we’re here to help with that as well. Still,” he mused, “you ought to at least let us get you emotional damages from the bastards.”

  Paul laughed. “Sounds good. Don’t worry, Torie. I won’t let them get too mean with it, but you deserve something for all they’ve put you through. They haven’t called you to come back yet, have they?”

  “No.”

  “There we go,” Pratt said. “That’s settled then. Paul tells me you’ll be in on Monday. We’ll talk about it then. For now, it’s an evening to put work aside and have a little fun. Will you let me steal her for one waltz, Paul?” The older man was enjoying himself playing the matchmaker, Torie could tell.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “No sirring tonight, Paul. I’m just Pratt. So, have some more champagne. Now Torie, tell me about your plans.”

  Their enthusiastic interest buoyed Torie’s ideas for her business so much that she was nearly giddy by the time they arrived at the exclusive mansion near Fairmont Park. The limo let them out at the door, and Torie entered on Pratt’s arm with Paul coming in behind them. Most of the invited staff were already there, sipping cocktails and holding full plates of hors d’oeuvres. When Pratt and Torie rounded the corner, the volume of conversation dropped, but picked back up again.

  “Paul!” Several people hailed him, one dubbing him the man of the hour.

  “Thanks for the excuse to have a party on the old man,” another partner said as he slapped him on the back and shook hands with Torie. She never got his name. She, Pratt, and Paul made the rounds, and when the chimes sounded for dinner, the two men escorted her to her seat, flanking her at the table.

  “This is lovely, Pratt. I feel like a princess.”

  “You look like one, too, dear.”

  Melvin Jr. and his date, an attractive dark-haired woman, sat down. “Hello, Father. I believe you remember Sylvia.”

  “Yes, good evening.” Pratt’s welcome was less than warm, but he was courteous. Introductions around the table got to Torie, and Sylvia’s eyebrows arched nearly to her hairline.

  “Ah, you have been in the papers of late.”

  Before Torie could speak, Pratt rose to her defense. “We won’t be discussing that tonight. We’re here to celebrate.”

  “Of course.”

  The meal progressed, and Torie found it hard to keep her mind on the conversation. Underneath the table, Paul had found the slit in her dress. He wasn’t doing anything that could be seen, merely running the tip of one finger up and down her leg as far as the fabric would allow.

  She was about to die from wanting him.

  When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Pratt stood up. At that signal, the soft music the band was playing died away, and a microphone was brought to their table.

  “We’re here tonight to celebrate another fine partner at our firm,” Pratt began. He outlined some of Paul’s achievements, introduced him, and joked with him a bit. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate with us, everyone. Let’s clear that dance floor and enjoy, shall we?”

  As if conjured by magic, staff appeared to clear several tables and reveal a wooden dance floor in the heart of the room, near the band. The band struck up a waltz and Pratt held out a hand to Torie.

  “If I might have this dance?”

  “Of course.”

  Paul cut in as the music finished, and Pratt selected another partner as well. The music ramped up to a faster pace, but Paul kept their dance slow and sensual.

  “Paul,” she whispered in his ear. “People are staring.”

  “So?”

  She laughed. “So, you have to work with these people.”

  “Uh huh,” he said, but didn’t change the tempo one bit.

  When the song ended and the band started on rock, he relented and led her back to the table.

  Martha stopped them on the way there. As a longstanding employee, she had been invited as well.

  “Hello, Martha,” Paul greeted her warmly.

  “Good evening, Paul. Torie.”

  So, it was still friendly, Torie decided with an inner smile. “Hello, Martha, you look lovely tonight.”

  “Thank you. I wanted to tell you that I admire you.”

  The words came as a total shock to Torie. “I beg your pardon.”

  Martha’s smile was prim. “You’ve been dealt some difficult blows. I was not, I confess, a fan of yours. I cared very deeply for young Mister Todd, and I wasn’t as fair as I should have been about the situation between you.”

  “Oh,” Torie squeaked out. What the hell was she supposed to say to that amazing statement?

  “However, I believe you to be a woman of considerable courage. I want you to know I wish you the best.” With that grand pronouncement, Martha bid them a good night and moved off through the maze of tables.

  “Did she just apologize?” Torie asked.

  “Sounded like it to me,” Paul said with a smile, guiding her to the table.

  “Your phone rang,” Melvin spoke up as they approached. “I had to catch your purse to keep it from falling off the chair. You must have it on vibrate.”

  “Oh, I do,” Torie admitted, thinking it was weird that Melvin had noticed.

  “He almost spilled my drink when it fell on his foot,” Sylvia complained, coming up beside them. The ill-disguised whine in her voice grated on Torie’s nerves. “You haven’t asked me to dance, Melvin.” She now turned her attention to Melvin. Torie could see that he was irked, but he set down the glasses and led her away.

  Torie yanked the phone from her purse. The caller ID said Pam. The last three digits were nine-one-one. It was urgent.

  “I’ll be right back,” she nearly shouted to Paul. The music was reaching the higher levels, and she could feel the thump of the bass in her bones. “Pam called. Something urgent.”

  “I’ll come with you,” he began, only to be distracted by a man patting his back, bringing his wife over to meet Paul.

  “No worries, I’ll be back.”

  Weaving her way through the tables, she readied the call. As soon as she slipped through the ballroom doors, she hit send.

  “Pam?”

  “Torie! You’ll never belie—”

  Noise from the opening doors blocked out all the sound.

  “Hang on, Pammie, I’m walking outside so I can hear.”

  She managed t
o find a side door leading to the pool, and opened it with her elbow as she continued to try to hear what Pam was saying. “Pam, honey, slow down.”

  “He’s okay!”

  “What?”

  “He’s okay, Dev’s okay. He’s on his way over. He texted me, then called. He’s okay.”

  “What? That’s great news. Oh, thank God.” Relief made her knees weak, and she managed to get to one of the benches and lean on its back. She didn’t want to mess up the dress by sitting down, but it felt good to have something solid under her hands. “Is he okay, physically? I mean he didn’t hurt anything again, did he?”

  “I don’t think so,” Pam yelled, as the signal suddenly became clear. Torie jerked the phone away from her ear. A noise behind her startled her nearly as much as Pam’s continued shouts about what Dev had said.

  A hand covered her mouth, a cloth pressed over her nose as well, and she sucked in a deep breath to scream. The drug-laden fabric was wet on her cheek, and she felt a firm arm grip her under the bust as she sagged forward.

  “Not bad for an old man, eh?”

  She heard the words, but her eyes had begun to blur. A dark shape in a tuxedo loomed over her, draping her arm over his shoulder. He dragged her away from the mansion, aiming for the darkest area of the parking lot.

  “You are such a pain in the ass, you know?” he mocked, unlocking the door to a plain, older SUV with a push of a button. He managed to open the door and shove her in without ever releasing the cloth from her mouth.

  She knew his voice. She knew him. Tibbet had been right. It was someone she knew. Her thoughts circled like bats, flitting from theme to theme. Where were the bodyguards? Where was Paul?

  The voice kept droning on about the frat party and Todd. He put two hands on the wheel when they got to the main road. He waited for the light, and whipped the car into the darkness, away from the city and its lights.

  “You never could let well enough alone, could you? Getting involved with Todd, moving in with him. Nobody else was good enough for you, Miss Hoity-Toity. And now Paul. He’s trash. Raised in a trailer, he comes from nothing. Nothing, do you hear me?”

  He slapped at her face, but the awkward angle and the fact that he had to keep one hand on the wheel made it difficult for him to actually hurt her.

  That won’t last, a clear corner of her mind reasoned. He’s got you now. You’re dead.

  “…kill you,” he ranted. “But, no. I thought, hey, she turned me down before, but I’m successful now. And Todd’s off doing his thing with all that money.” He spat the word. “It should have been mine, do you hear? Mine.”

  It made no sense. The money was Todd’s. He’d won it. Hadn’t he?

  “I bought the tickets that day. I bought all the lottery tickets for the whole office that day. I handed them out. They were all mine. Every one of them. But did he thank me? No. Did he offer to share the money with me? No. He gave me my five dollars, and he walked.”

  The car was weaving now, turning this way and that. She felt it bump, bump, bump along the road. The only light was from the dashboard.

  Wasn’t there a song about that? Torie’s mind wandered with the drug. Every few minutes she’d feel more connected to her body, get snatches of what he was saying.

  “And then Todd came back. Again. Why couldn’t he just leave? Huh? Well, it was the last time he was going to rub all that money he stole from me in my face. You get it? Huh?”

  The car lurched to a stop. “He stole it from me,” the man said, slamming his way out of the car. He jerked her door open, took her arm, and yanked her up. With a quick twist, he swung her legs out, and pulled her up to stand woozily at his side.

  “I took the cloth away, so you should be coming around. Nice thing about that drug, it’s effective but fast acting. You’ll know me before I kill you. Just like Todd.”

  The voice rang in her head. The voice…

  He finished chatting up the Martins, and looked around the ballroom for Torie. He was ready to dance. With her. Then, he decided, as soon as he could, he was going to steal her away, up to the room he’d reserved. There was already champagne chilling, and more flowers. Maybe somehow, between her change of heart and his abject groveling, she would forgive him.

  It might take a few more months of courting to heal the wounds he’d caused, but if he did it right, cared enough, loved enough, then perhaps she’d agree to marry him.

  He thought of the ring he’d looked at earlier in the day. It would suit her.

  He pressed open the door to the hallway, felt the rush of cooler air. It felt heavenly on his heated skin. Tuxedos were dashing, for sure, and fairly comfortable, but with all the dancing and alcohol, he was well warmed up.

  Thinking of Torie again, he decided he was way past warmed up, and moving well toward open flame.

  He saw Martha leaving the alcove marked for Ladies, and waylaid her. “Hey, Martha, you look lovely. Did you see Torie in there?”

  “Thank you, Paul. No, no one else was in there.”

  “Okay. If you see Torie, would you tell her—”

  He didn’t get to finish. A shout went up from a nearby seating area. He turned in time to see Pratt toppling over, off the sofa, and onto the floor.

  “Good Lord,” Martha exclaimed, and ran to help.

  Suddenly, Paul had a terrible feeling in his gut. Torie was missing. Pratt was in trouble. He remembered the cops in the hotel lobby.

  He had to find Torie. Now.

  Rushing toward the reception area, he looked in every nook, every seating area, near all the phones.

  A mansion employee came up, asking if he needed help.

  “Have you seen a woman from the party? She’s wearing a dark blue short dress. Long blond hair. She was taking a phone call,” he said, putting his hand to his ear as if answering the phone.

  “Ah, yes. She went out the door, there.”

  The young man pointed to an exit which led into the gardens, and Paul wasted no time. Whipping out his own cell phone, he rolled through calls till he found Tibbet’s, then redialed.

  “Tibbet, it’s Jameson. Torie’s missing. Old man Pratt collapsed, and I can’t find Torie.” Damn, he was repeating himself. Where was she? Why couldn’t he find her?

  “You’re sure? She’s not just—” He cut himself off. “You’re sure. Never mind.”

  Paul rattled off the address. He heard Tibbet start his car.

  “Hang tight,” Tibbet said. “I’m sending black and whites. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  His dress shoes rang on the concrete walkway as he searched for Torie. A bench loomed out of the semi-darkness, and he heard the faintest sound of voices.

  On the ground, half-buried in a flower bed, was Torie’s phone.

  “Hello? Who is this?” Paul demanded.

  “Paul, is that you?”

  “Pam? What’s going on? Where’s Torie?”

  “I don’t know. She was there one minute, talking to us, then she was gone.”

  “Us?”

  “Dev’s back.”

  “That’s good,” Paul acknowledged briefly, then hurried on. “How long ago?”

  “A couple of minutes.”

  Paul ran into the parking lot, spun in place checking the exits. Searching for any sign of Torie. Where the hell was Mike? He’d hired Mike to watch the exits, keep Torie in his sights.

  As he worried, he searched. The driveways were long and twisting. Way off in the distance, he saw a car turn on its headlamps as it sat at the traffic light. When the light shifted to green, it turned left.

  “I have to take the chance.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Somebody’s taken Torie. Kidnapped her. I think I saw him leaving. I gotta hang up, call Tibbet, and tell him where I’m going.”

  “Call us,” Pam shouted as he turned that phone off and opened his own again.

  “Jameson? That you?” A man hurried over, his tuxedo rumpled.

  “Mike, wher
e the hell were you? You were supposed to be watching the lots, making sure she didn’t get snatched.”

  “I have been. I’ve been out front. One of the staff came out, said you were looking for me. I went inside and saw the commotion. No one knew where you were, so I figured there was trouble. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  “Never mind that now. Where’s your car?”

  “Right here,” Mike said, and pointed to a silvery gray Oldsmobile. “I was going to—”

  Paul cut him off. “You drive. Go out that way,” he instructed, pointing to the exit. “We’re following a car that I think took Torie.”

  He redialed Tibbet as he flung himself into the passenger seat, and they peeled out after the phantom car.

  “He’s got her, I’m following.”

  “Who? Who is it?” Tibbet demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Paul snarled. “Turn, turn,” Paul ordered Mike as they got to the light. They squealed through on red.

  “Where are you?”

  Heading north on Kelly Drive along the river. We just left the Bradshaw Mansion. I’m with the guy I hired for tonight,” he said.

  “Shitty hire if he let somebody get Torie.”

  “Agreed. The tags are—” he began, then turned to Mike.

  “R-S-A-three-two-five,” the bodyguard snapped, taking the turns on the winding road with competent speed.

  Paul relayed to Tibbet.

  “Okay, keep me posted. There’s a black and white on the way to intercept. I’ve notified the park rangers as well, but their patrol’s in another area. I’m en route. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Hurry.”

  Paul dropped the phone into his lap and searched the night.

  “There!” he shouted to Mike. Faint taillights off a side road betrayed the other car’s direction. They’d been pretty close; it must be him.

  He prayed it wasn’t kids out for a little nookie in the backseat. They searched for a way to follow, and passed the overgrown entrance to a rutted road.

  “Stop,” Paul insisted, pointing to the road. “There.”

  “Got it,” Mike grunted as he cranked the wheel to turn the car onto the overgrown drive.