Again she shook her head. "No, they just tied me up in that closet and left. I honestly wasn't even sure they were coming back." Her voice cracked on the last word.
I rubbed her shoulder again. "You're going to be okay now," I promised.
"Is Candy alright? She must be so worried," Apple said.
I gave her a reassuring smile. "She is. She's the one who insisted we look for you. She's going to be thrilled to know you're safe."
Apple's grin finally made her look at peace. It would be an expression I'd hold on to for a long time.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held it out to Apple. "Do you want to call Candy now?"
She snatched it from my hand and quickly dialed. Her face went through a mixture of emotions, from happiness to tears to laughter as she told Candy everything in a quick stream. "Seriously, I'm fine," she assured her best friend, her voice sounding stronger by the minute. "I'm with Jamie and Caleigh now. We're waiting for the cops, and then I'm coming home."
I couldn't hear what Candy was saying, but I could make out her excited tone.
"No, I promise," Apple said into the phone. "I'll come to your place when we're done. I don't want to be alone tonight anyway."
Her words tightened my throat. This poor girl was going to be flinching at every sound and probably have nightmares for weeks.
After she hung up and handed the phone back to me, I squeezed her fingers. "Try to remember that it may take a while before you feel safe and normal again."
It wasn't long before we heard sirens, and three sighs audibly circled the interior of our car. Perhaps we'd all been more pent up than we wanted to admit.
The police and an ambulance arrived, and a couple of young uniformed officers took us each aside and asked us what happened. We filled them in on the long sordid story, each giving her account of what had happened. This time I didn't leave anything out, least of which Kent Perkins' involvement. The paramedics checked Apple out and said her hip didn't seem serious—likely bruised but not broken. They offered to take her to the hospital, but she refused. I didn't blame her. I could imagine all she wanted to do was be reunited with Candy and sleep for a year. Maybe after a big meal.
The sun was setting by the time we were finally cleared to go. The ride back to LA was largely quiet, Caleigh and I lost in our own thoughts and Apple intermittently napping. I made a couple of calls—checking in with Aiden, who said he'd had Kent Perkins brought in for questioning, and Wendell Manchester, letting him know Apple was safe—and so was his precious five million—and that he could retrieve Kendall from my dad's boat anytime. I updated Maya on everything and told her to brief Sam. Then as we approached LA, I texted Candy to let her know we were bringing Apple her way.
Tears, hugs, and more tears ensued when we reunited the two. I'd admit, I might have teared up a bit myself. Caleigh and I left Apple in Candy's capable hands. Then I had her drop me back at the agency to pick up my own car, and I drove home on autopilot.
As soon as I hit my apartment door, I let my purse fall onto the floor and kicked my shoes off. I peeled my clothes off, trading them for an old T-shirt, then dropped gratefully into my soft bed. My head gently lay on my pillow, and I shut my eyes.
Then my cell rang.
I thought a bad word.
I opened my eyes and realized my phone wasn't on the nightstand. I'd left it in my purse. I considered pretending I didn't hear it. But what if it was Candy? What if Apple wasn't really okay?
I got up and reluctantly trudged into the living room. The ring had stopped, and I considered going back to bed. When it started again.
Someone really needed to get a hold of me.
I grabbed my purse, dug around inside, and pulled my phone out. Derek's face stared at me. What could he possibly want at this hour? If this was about the party, I swear to God…
I swiped the green pulsating button.
"What?" I barked into the phone, slightly more angrily than I'd intended.
"It's the girl."
I rubbed a hand across my eyes. "Kendall?" Was she still there? I would have thought her dad would have her home by now. "What about her?"
"I'm sorry, James," Derek said, his voice tense. "But she's gone."
"I know," I told him, yawning. "I told her dad she could go home."
"No, I don't mean she left. I mean…I think someone took her."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Suddenly I was wide awake. "What do you mean you think she was taken?"
"I mean, one minute she was here, and now she's gone."
"Maybe she just went home?"
"She doesn't have a car."
"Uber?"
"I don't think so. Her phone is still here, James."
Now that was alarming. If I knew anything about Kendall, it was that her phone functioned almost as an extra appendage. No way would she leave that behind anywhere.
"Tell me exactly what happened," I told him as I backtracked to my bedroom and opened the closet.
Derek sighed. "Everything was fine. We were getting along great—chatting, laughing, watching some adorable cats play piano on the whatchamatube on her phone."
"YouTube," I said automatically as I grabbed a pair of jeans and shoved my legs into them.
"Yeah, that. I tell you, that kid is a riot. Saucy thing, but she's got a sense of humor. And that phone of hers is like a digital wonderland. She can get anything on there. Even had the ballgame streaming at one point."
"What happened, Derek?" I asked, trying to get him back on track.
"Right. Anyway, I went below to fix us a nightcap."
"Nightcap?" I asked. That sounded way too sophisticated for Derek.
"Yeah. Some Coronas with lime. And chips. And guacamole."
That sounded more like Derek. "So what happened?"
"When I came back up on deck with the snacks, she was gone. No sign of her. Except her phone. It was sitting on the deck near her chair."
"Any signs of a struggle?" I asked.
I could hear Derek shaking his head. "No. Nothing. She's just gone."
Great. Now someone really had kidnapped Wendell's daughter!
"What do you want me to do?" Derek asked in the rarest of rare moments where he was actually asking me for advice.
I didn't have time to soak it in though. "Nothing," I told him, shoving my feet into a pair of slip-on sneakers. "I've gotta go. Just sit tight in case she comes back."
I hung up, thinking that possibility was a long shot, but the last thing I needed was Derek going rogue.
I dialed Aiden's number as I grabbed my purse and headed toward my car.
"Prince," he answered. He sounded tired. I wondered if he'd left the office yet.
"Hey, it's Jamie."
"What's going on?" he asked, picking up on the urgency in my voice.
"It's Kendall Manchester. I think she's in trouble." I quickly relayed what Derek had told me.
"You sure she didn't just leave?" he asked once I'd finished.
"Positive. That phone is like oxygen to her. She'd never leave it voluntarily."
He sighed heavily. "Okay, I'll send a car out to the boat to talk to Derek."
A thought occurred to me. "Kent Perkins. Is he still with your guys?"
"Yeah," Aiden confirmed. "He's been in custody all evening. Ever since you called about Apple."
I bit my lip. That meant that whoever had taken Apple, it wasn't Kent. Another accomplice? Or had we been wrong? Had Kent Perkins been a scapegoat all along? We'd never actually uncovered any physical evidence that he'd taken Apple. Sure, she'd been found in his house. But as Caleigh and I had proven, it wasn't exactly Fort Knox-difficult to get into. Anyone who knew of its existence would know it was isolated, abandoned, and a perfect place to keep a kidnapped girl.
And who better to know about it than Kent's former best friend.
Puzzle pieces began to fall into place. I'd told Wendell we'd found Apple. No kidnapped girl, no ransom, no tax write-off. He'd staged this w
hole thing. And now that it had backfired, he'd kidnapped his daughter for real this time.
Poor Kendall. She might be annoying, entitled, and bratty. But no one deserved to be treated this way by their own flesh and blood. I only hoped Wendell wouldn't really hurt his own daughter.
"I've gotta go," I told Aiden, sliding into my driver's seat.
"What are you planning to do, Jamie?" Aiden asked, sounding way more awake than he had a moment ago.
"I'll call you later," I told him instead of answering.
"Jamie—" he began in a warning tone.
But I'd already hung up. The last thing I needed was a lecture about leaving it all to the authorities. The authorities were great for finding evidence, processing crime scenes, and reading the Miranda rights once we had a perp in our sights. But evidence was one thing I didn't have. What I did have was a burning anger that Wendell Manchester had played us all. And had hurt Apple in the process.
My tires screeched as I pulled out of my parking garage. I broke at least seven traffic laws on the way to Bel Air. The front gate was open this time, about which I was both grateful and suspicious. But I didn't overanalyze it, pulling up to the front of the house and cutting my engine. The only car visible was Kendall's. It hadn't moved since the first time I'd been there.
I marched up the front steps and pounded on the door. I only waited a beat before ringing the bell and pounding again.
Finally it opened to reveal an annoyed looking Stephanie, a frown etched on her forehead. "Mr. Manchester isn't here."
"Where is he?" I demanded.
"I-I'm not sure."
I took a step forward toward the house, but she stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind her. Clearly she had no intention of letting me in.
Too bad for her, I had no intention of going anywhere.
"When will he be back?" Was he off stashing Kendall somewhere? Or had he, once again, hired someone to do the dirty work and was busy establishing an alibi?
Stephanie's brow wrinkled deeper. "I don't know. He didn't say. You should go." She moved to slip back into the house, but I was ready for it this time, wedging my foot into the doorframe before she could shut it.
"No, I think I'll just wait, thanks," I told her, physically pushing my way into the home.
She pushed back, trying to keep me out, but I was stronger. I all but stumbled into the foyer as I won the shoving match and the door fell open.
Stephanie shot daggers at me. "You can't be here," she said icily.
I opened my mouth to respond that I could and very well intended to be.
However, the words died in my throat as I glanced at the bright, white wall behind her. Bright white save for the dark red smear just behind Stephanie's head. Blood.
I looked from Stephanie to the wall.
Her expression changed. Annoyance was replaced by cold, calculating decision.
"What is going on here?" I asked. I took a step toward her.
Then froze as she lifted her arm and revealed a shiny silver gun in her right hand. "I told you to leave."
Suddenly it all became clear.
Wendell wasn't smart enough to arrange this entire kidnapping plot. He could barely keep track of his own schedule.
But his personal assistant could.
CHAPTER TWENTY
My thoughts went back to the first time I'd met Stephanie. She'd appeared so professional, so militant in refusing us access to the estate and to Wendell. At the time I'd mistaken her reluctance as some sort of effort at protecting her employer's privacy. When in reality it was to cover up the fact that she'd kidnapped a woman.
"Whose blood is that?" I asked, almost not wanting to know that answer. Had she done something to Kendall? My hand automatically twitched toward my gun holster before I realized in my haste to get dressed I'd left it behind. Rookie mistake. And one I was sorely regretting. "What did you do?" I added.
"None of your business," she spat back. "God, you are so nosey. I knew you were going to cause trouble from the moment you stepped foot in this house."
"It was you all along," I said, stating the obvious.
She nodded. Without housekeepers, gardeners, and other household staff, the house was eerily quiet. Then again, everything was eerie with a gun trained on you.
"You were working with Wendell?" I guessed.
But Stephanie scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "As if I would do all this for him. What's he ever done for me but lie, cheat, and demean me?"
"Really?" I asked, knowing I'd hit a sore spot. "How long have you worked for him?"
"Too long."
"Long enough to know he would pay five million dollars to get his daughter back?" I asked. Even though I already knew the answer to that question. I had to keep her talking. Distracted would be even better. I glanced around for anything I could use as a weapon. A potted plant and a heavy occasional table were the only movable objects in the room. And neither looked particularly easy to lift.
Stephanie's serious expression changed with a sly smile. "The five million was a bargain considering what he's put me through over the last five years."
"Such as?" I asked.
"Such as paying me a pittance while running me ragged. Having me do all the dirty work for his disgusting habits, his less than legal financial maneuvers, his misogynistic business dealings. If you even knew the half of Wendell Manchester's business practices, you'd be appalled."
That was no surprise. What was, was why she'd stuck around. "So why not quit?" I asked, glancing to my right. The sitting room held several small items I could see being useful in a hand-to-hand combat fight, but none compared to a gun. "I'm sure with your qualifications you could get a job anywhere."
Stephanie barked out a laugh. "Nice try with the flattery, girlie," she said. "But I didn't quit because Wendell promised me he'd compensate me. He was going to finance my own production company. He said he was grooming me for the business, connecting me with all the right people. And when the time was right, he'd back my first project." She sneered, the memory obviously leaving a bad taste in her mouth. "Liar."
"What happened?" I asked. I inched closer to the door, but unless it would magically open and swallow me up before Stephanie could pull a trigger, I wasn't sure how I was going to get through it.
"What happened? He lied! He's got nothing to back me with. His money is all tied up in failing film projects and losing real estate properties."
"And back tax bills," I added.
The gun wavered for a moment as she practically vibrated with anger. "The IRS calling was the last straw. It became clear that any liquid assets Wendell had were about to be seized."
"So you decided to kidnap his daughter for ransom."
She shrugged. "It was a good plan. I knew he had offshore accounts. If I could get my hands on that money before the IRS did, I'd get my severance pay. I was only looking to get what I deserved."
"And Pete Rivera?" I said. "Did he get what he deserved?"
"Peter Rivera was an idiot. A gang member. A stain on society."
I didn't point out that kidnapping and murder hardly made her a pillar of the community.
"So you did hire him?" I asked, trying to keep her talking. The front door was out. No way could I get it open before she could shoot. The hall to the back of the house sat to the left. I weighed my options. Could I bolt down it?
Stephanie nodded. "I did. Tasty Catering has done a few parties for Wendell, and I met Rivera at one of them." She grinned. "I caught him trying to steal some of Kendall's jewelry. I told him I wouldn't report him—and I'd pay him more than the costume stuff he was taking was worth—if he did a little favor for me."
"Kidnap Kendall," I said.
"That was the plan. I gave him the keys to one of Wendell's rentals that's been vacant for months. No one would have looked for her there. Only I shouldn't have trusted a street thug like that to do anything right."
"You mean him grabbing the wrong girl?"
She no
dded again. "Rivera clearly wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box."
That was an understatement. I thought back to what Apple had told me. The kidnappers had kept the hood on her head the entire time to keep her from seeing their identities. But it had also kept them from seeing her identity. I'd shown Stephanie the photo of Apple when we'd first visited Manchester's home looking for her. But she'd had no reason to believe Apple had anything to do with the woman Rivera had under lock and key. Even after she'd moved Apple, she'd still been under the impression she'd had the real Kendall.
"The tracking app," I said, seeing it all come together. "You were there when we tracked the ransom call to Riverside. You knew we were getting too close to finding out where you had Apple locked up. That's why you moved her."
"Well, what was I supposed to do? You were bumbling but not totally inept."
If she hadn't had the gun on me, I might have taken offense to that. "You knew about Kent's half-finished house."
"I know about all of Wendell's business. Anything that's said or done in this house, I know about."
I glanced up at the security camera by the door. I bet she did. She probably watched the videos with popcorn at night, just waiting for juicy tidbits. I wondered if anyone was watching now. Or had Stephanie shut the system off already?
"And you killed Pete Rivera."
"I had to," Stephanie reasoned calmly, as if she were talking about cleaning up a mess on the carpet and not taking a human life. "I don't like loose ends."
I really hoped I wasn't a loose end. I glanced toward the sitting room. French doors led, I knew, out toward the backyard. If I could get to those, maybe I could outrun her…
"Besides, I knew once the money went through and I released Kendall, Wendell wouldn't hesitate to go to the police. Rivera wasn't a genius. He would have gotten caught."
"And pointed the finger at you."
"Naturally."
"So, you did plan to let Kendall go?"
Here eyes were flat as she responded. "Of course."
She was totally lying. I shivered thinking just how lucky we'd gotten to find Apple in time.
"But that was before Wendell faked the bank transfer." She paused, leveling me with a look that was pure hatred. "Or should I say, you faked it."
Fatal Bond Page 18