They were still so new at it, but wasn’t God supposed to bless them for what they’d done? How could this happen?
Rayne watched Gary pace the room, unable to be still. Brittany, Kim, Morrey, Rich, Stan, and Ross sat in white chairs intended for the wedding guests, brought up from the great room. They, too, had changed out of their bridesmaid dresses and tuxes.
Rayne’s and Gary’s cell phones sat on a table near Rayne’s chair. The sheriff’s department had wired both of them with portable recording devices in hopes that the kidnapper would call.
Both phones remained silent.
In the first hour following Shaley’s disappearance, they had learned that Pogh Jewelers’ van had been carjacked on its way to the estate. The driver had been knocked unconscious and left on the side of the road. He’d barely seen the face of his assailant. He would be in the hospital overnight for treatment.
Whoever stole that van had kidnapped Shaley.
Downstairs, many of the wedding guests still remained. One by one they were being questioned by the local sheriff’s deputies. No one was being allowed to leave until questioned, Rayne had been assured of that. This location had been a secret. Did one of the guests have something to do with Shaley’s disappearance?
Gary and Rayne couldn’t believe that. But at this point, the sheriff’s department would rule no one out.
Rayne stared at her phone, silently begging it to ring. Her eyes burned. Her body felt numb, like she’d gone to sleep and woken up in a thick, cold fog. She could barely move, yet she wanted to be doing something to find Shaley. But right now all they could do was wait. The local sheriff’s department had called in the FBI for help, knowing this case would be highly publicized and require more manpower than their department could handle. An agent from the FBI’s Los Angeles Field Office was on his way and would meet with the wedding party as soon as he arrived. Rayne was glad for all the help they could get, but they’d been expecting the agent for hours.
A whop-whop sounded overhead. Gary caught Rayne’s eye. “Helicopter.”
She managed a nod. “Think it’s the sheriff’s department or the media?”
“Probably the media. The sheriff’s helicopters are out looking for the van.”
“They should have found it by now.” Morrey ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. One of his tattooed arms was around Kim’s shoulders. Morrey and Kim had been dating for a number of years. Rayne had thought their wedding would be next.
Now there would be no “next” anything. The world had stopped.
“Someone will find that van soon.” Ross pressed a pudgy hand to his forehead. He sat forward in his chair, legs apart, staring at the floor. “The whole country’s already looking for it.”
The local sheriff’s department had moved into swift action. Already they’d printed flyers of Shaley and were posting them around the area. A forensic artist was now interviewing the security guard who’d been at the front gate to create a drawing of the van driver’s face. As soon as that was done, the drawing would be released to the media.
“How did he know?” Brittany’s long blonde hair had long since fallen from its swept-up coiffure, and her makeup was streaked from tears. “The man who carjacked the van. How did he know Shaley was supposed to meet the driver—unless somebody at the jewelers told him? I mean, any one of us could have picked up that ring.” Her voice dropped. “I wish I had.”
“Brittany, you can’t blame yourself.” Kim’s hair was down now as well, the flowers taken out. Her mascara and heavy blue eyeliner were smeared.
“No, you can’t,” Rayne whispered.
She’d done enough self-blaming of her own. If only she hadn’t been so set on having that ring for the ceremony. If only she’d instructed one of her bodyguards to bring it upstairs. But Shaley had insisted she pick up the ring herself, since she was responsible for it during the ceremony. She’d called the jewelers that morning, reminding them to give it to no one but her. Now that seemed like such a silly thing for her to do.
But who could have known it would lead to this?
Rayne closed her eyes. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have let her meet anyone without a bodyguard. Why did I do that?” She bent low, fresh tears stinging her eyes.
Gary knelt beside Rayne and drew her into his arms. “You couldn’t have known. None of us could.” His voice sounded flat. “This estate was so secure. We’ve been running around it since we got here last night. Shaley and Brittany didn’t have a bodyguard with them every minute. We even had security watching the guests arrive.”
“I know.” Rayne cried in his arms. Her mind was about to crack in two. How was she going to stand another minute of this? “But still…”
Gary stroked her hair. “We’ll find her. It’ll be okay. We’ll find her.”
A knock sounded on the door. Rayne’s head came up.
“Yeah,” Ross called.
The door opened. A tall African-American man entered, dressed in slacks, a short-sleeved shirt, and tie. Around him hovered an energetic authority, as if his mere presence promised that something good would finally happen.
The FBI. Rayne stood on shaky legs.
“Miss O’Connor.” The man nodded to her. He looked around forty, lean, with a long face and short-cropped hair. His eyes were hazel brown. “I’m Special Agent Al Scarrow.” He shook Rayne’s hand, then Gary’s.
Hope flickered in Rayne’s heart. “Thank you for coming.”
Gary introduced the agent to everyone in the room.
Mick appeared at the door, carrying in a white chair for the agent. Al sat down. Gary pulled his chair close to Rayne.
Al leaned forward, hands clasped. He focused on Rayne. “I want you to know we’re doing everything to bring Shaley back home. We’ve already got other agents from our office coordinating efforts with both the sheriff’s department here and the Santa Barbara Police Department. Just before I got here I learned that the suspect composite is done. It’s now being printed and will immediately be disseminated to the media.”
“What about the van?” Gary’s face looked tight and drawn.
“We’ve got units on the ground and in the air looking for that vehicle. We aim to find it, and soon.”
Rayne nodded. Her mind still felt like it was wrapped in cotton. “We think the jewelers have something to do with this. They knew the ring was being delivered—” Her throat closed up.
Whop-whop. Again, a helicopter sounded overhead.
Al’s eyes lifted. “That’s probably a local TV station. Your location somehow leaked. Not surprising, with all the wedding guests leaving.”
Bitterness rose within Rayne. “Why is a TV station so worried about getting a story here? They should help! They should be out looking for the van.”
“I understand.” Al pumped his clasped hands up and down. Rayne could tell his brain was jumping a dozen directions at once. “The media can be a real annoyance, but they can also be very helpful in getting the word out if used correctly. We’ve already got a spokesperson dealing with the media. Of course they want to know far more details than we’re giving them right now.”
“I’ll bet.” Rayne had her own love–hate relationship with the media. Especially the paparazzi.
At least her most-hated member of the paparazzi, Cat, had finally been convicted for stalking Shaley last year. In fact, Cat had been the first suspect Rayne thought of when Shaley disappeared. But the Santa Barbara County Sheriff’s Department had checked. The man was just where he was supposed to be. In jail.
“Rayne was right earlier,” Gary said. “The jewelers had to be in on this, or at least they told the wrong person. Whoever carjacked their van had to know the driver was meeting Shaley.”
Al nodded. “We’re taking a good look at that. We’ve got people interviewing the owners and employees of the store—” His cell phone rang.
Rayne jumped, even though she knew it wasn’t her own cell. Why wouldn’t hers ring?
“Excuse me.” Al unclipped his phone from his belt, checked the ID, and answered. “Al Scarrow.” He listened. Rayne’s gaze glued to his face. She looked for any sign of news in his expression, but he gave away nothing. Wild frustration barreled through her. This agent was on their side. She and Gary needed him and all the forces behind him. But how could he be so calm and controlled about everything?
“Okay, thanks.” Al ended the call and looked at Rayne. “They found the van.”
9
As the SUV’s engine cut off, I sat up. From the floor I could just see out the window. Sickly white overhead lights and gas pumps.
A service station.
There were few cars on the road running past the station. I leaned close to the window and looked far behind us. Were those signs for a freeway? Had we just come off of it?
Longing and fear and wild hope surged through me. How fast could I get to the other side of the SUV? Open the door and fling myself out? If I screamed, someone would hear me—
“Shaley,” my kidnapper barked from the front seat. The sound of his voice drained the sudden energy from my limbs. Who was I kidding? If I so much as moved toward the door, that monster would be on me. Did I want to get beat up again?
“Shaley!”
I swallowed. “What?” My voice sounded dead.
“Put this on. Tuck your hair up in it.”
A dirty blue baseball cap sailed over the seat in front of me and landed on my lap. It was the one he’d been wearing. I picked it up and stared at it stupidly. My thoughts jumbled together.
“You hear me?”
My bladder hurt so badly. I just wanted to get to the bathroom. Then get a drink of water. “Yes.”
“Once you put that on, I’m going to come around and get you out. Take you inside to the bathroom. You’re going to walk beside me and look down. You’re not going to make a sound or talk to anyone. One word from you, and I’m yanking you back out of there. Got it?”
I studied the baseball cap. It said San Diego on the front. “Yes.”
“You want to see your family again?”
“Yes!” The word caught in my throat. Anything, I’ll do anything! Just let me go home!
“Then do what I say. Or you’ll never see them again.”
“Okay.”
I pushed my hair up under the baseball cap. “Ready.”
The driver’s seat squeaked as he got out. I listened to his footsteps go around the front of the car. The door opened. “Come on. Hurry up.”
I half scooted, half crawled toward the door. My whole body hurt. Shaking, I climbed out.
“Look down.”
I did as I was told.
He gripped my elbow, shut the SUV’s door, and walked me toward the station. Chin low, I sneaked looks right and left but saw no one.
We stopped. He opened the glass door, ushered me inside. Ahead of me I could see a row of shelves with chips and candy bars, but I heard no voices. The man veered right. I found myself in front of a door. He tried the handle, and it opened. “Go in.” He kept his voice low. “Be quick.”
I stumbled inside and headed for the toilet.
When I was done, I could barely stand up again. I forced myself to my feet and searched the room with my eyes. Was there a window somewhere? A vent I hadn’t seen? Some way out other than going back to the man? Disappointed, I shuffled to the sink. Looked into the mirror. Breath backed up in my throat. My knees went watery. I grabbed onto the side of the sink as I gawked at the reflection.
Was that me?
Beneath the bill of the baseball cap, my left cheek and eye were red and swollen. Mascara and eyeliner had run in rivulets down my cheeks. My mouth turned down, lipstick smeared. I looked like a zombie.
Hatred and panic washed over me like a tidal wave. How had this happened? In just a few hours—look what I’d become. I’d landed on another planet, in another person’s body. I didn’t look like Shaley, feel like Shaley. I felt…dead.
My mind drifted somewhere else. It couldn’t stand to be there. My hands reached for the water, washed themselves of grime and blood. I bent over, cupped a palm, and took long drinks.
The next thing I knew I was outside the bathroom, the man’s hand gripping my elbow once more. “Bend your head down.” He walked me out of the building. I didn’t see one other person. Somebody had to be behind a counter somewhere in the store, but I heard no voice, no greeting. The employee was probably at the other end. Couldn’t even see us.
The world had forsaken me. Left me with this monster.
“We’re going to make a call,” the monster said. He guided me around the corner of the building to a pay phone.
My heart clutched. “To my parents? They’ll pay. Anything you ask. Just…please let me talk to them.”
He chuckled low in his throat, an amused, evil laugh. “You think I stole you for money?”
10
Brittany checked her watch. Nine o’clock. Five hours had passed.
She was in the great room with Rayne and Gary, who alternately sat and paced. The waiting was beyond endurance. Rayne kept saying she should be out there, doing something to help bring Shaley home. Brittany felt the same. Any little task would be better than this. But Al Scarrow had made it clear: they had many professionals working on the case. Rayne and Gary’s job right now was to stay by their phones.
The cell phones sat on a nearby table, still silent and mocking. Brittany glared at Rayne’s, willing it to ring.
Where was Shaley? Was she alive?
Brittany yanked that last thought from her head. Of course Shaley was alive. She had to be. Brittany could feel it. Her best friend was out there, somewhere. Brittany would know if Shaley were dead. Her heart would know. It would stop beating.
Everyone in the band had been questioned by detectives from the sheriff’s department. Right now Kim and Morrey and the rest were scattered here and there around the mansion. But Brittany wouldn’t leave Rayne’s side. Rayne needed her. They needed each other, or they’d never survive this. And Rayne wasn’t the only one that needed Brittany. A little while ago, she’d talked to Mick—for the third time—assuring him this wasn’t his fault. All three bodyguards, Mick and Wendell and Lee, felt terrible. Each one blamed himself.
Mick’s tanned face had looked ghostlike when Brittany and Rayne first talked to him together after Shaley’s disappearance. He could hardly look Rayne in the eye. His own glazed with tears. Brittany had never seen him or any of Rayne’s bodyguards cry. They were all men of steel.
“I’m sorry. I’m so…sorry.” Mick’s voice caught.
“It’s not your fault,” Rayne said.
“It is. We—I was right there. Right out front. I saw that van go by toward the gate…”
“So did Wendell,” Rayne whispered. “And he’s already told me he’s to blame. Then Lee thinks he should somehow have known—and he was stationed in the house.” Rayne shook her head. “None of us could have known. If we had, any one of us would have given our lives to save her.”
Mick raised his eyes to hers. A tear stood in each corner. “I would have. I would.”
“I know.”
Now Brittany gazed at Rayne hunched in a chair and shuddered at the new revelation swirling in her head. An hour ago they’d received terrible news. Sheriff’s deputies had found blood in the van.
Brittany’s mind recited the fact again and again. Blood in the van…blood in the van…
When Rayne heard the news an hour ago, she’d thrown up.
It had only been a few drops of blood. But enough to tell them the story. Brittany’s closest friend in the world had been hit. Hurt. Those drops on the driveway had been Shaley’s blood. She’d been thrown in the back of that van bleeding. The imaginings and pictures crammed into Brittany’s head until she thought her brain would burst open.
She couldn’t stand this. Every minute, every breath seemed like her last. Her body wanted to block everything out. Shut down.
But she co
uldn’t let herself fall apart. Shaley needed her. Somehow Brittany, Rayne, and Gary would bring Shaley home.
Agent Scarrow strode into the great room, carrying a sheet of paper, Ed Schering beside him. Ed was still in his tux, his silver-white hair no longer so perfectly combed. He’d been yelling at anybody and everybody, trying to fix things. Agent Scarrow had tried to calm him down. This wasn’t a movie set. He wasn’t bossing around actors and cameramen.
Ed veered off toward the kitchen.
Rayne pushed to her feet and faced Agent Scarrow. Brittany stood close by, bracing herself for what might come next. Her nerves tingled, her heart thumping against her ribs. “What’s going on?” Gary pulled up beside Rayne.
Agent Scarrow handed Rayne the paper—a rough composite drawing of the kidnapper. “It’s not the greatest, unfortunately. The security guard didn’t get all that good a look at him.”
Brittany and Gary leaned in, all three staring at the drawing. The man had a mean, fat face with hanging jowls and small eyes half hidden under a blue baseball cap with San Diego written across the front. He looked disgusting. And terrifying. But at least now they had a picture, something to go on.
What was he doing to Shaley right now?
There was something familiar about him…
“Ever seen him before?” Agent Scarrow asked.
“I don’t think so,” Rayne said. “But…I don’t know.”
Gary shook his head. “I’ve never seen him.”
Brittany swallowed. “I think I have.”
“Where?” Rayne’s eyes rounded.
“I don’t know.” Brittany focused on the drawing and tried to remember. But the answer wouldn’t come. Was she wrong about this? “I just…I’m not sure. I’ll keep thinking.”
Agent Scarrow nodded. “You let me know if anything comes to you.”
“Can I keep the drawing?” Brittany could hardly stand to look at the man’s face again. But she had to. She had to figure out if she knew him from somewhere.
Final Touch Page 3