by Nora Roberts
me locked up. You’ve told me no one can find me. What if something happened to you? I could die here.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve planned everything, every detail. I love you, Deanna, and I know under it all, you love me too. You’ve shown me in hundreds of ways. The way you smile at me. The way you touch me, or laugh. The way you’ll catch my eye across the room. You made me your director. I can’t begin to explain what that meant to me. You trusted me to guide you. You believed in me. In us.”
“It’s not love. I don’t love you.”
“You’re just not ready yet. Now you need to rest.” He braceleted her wrists in one hand, fought the hypo free with the other.
“No. Don’t.” She twisted, wrenched, begged. “Please don’t. I can’t go anywhere. You’ve said I can’t get away.”
“You need to rest,” he said quietly, and slid the needle under her skin. “I’ll watch out for you, Deanna.”
Her head lolled back, and his tears fell to mix with hers. He waited, miserably, until her struggles to fight off the drug ceased. When her body went limp, he clamped down on the urge to stroke his hands over it.
Not until she’s ready, he reminded himself, content to brush the dampness from her cheeks. Gently, he shifted her onto the pillows and placed a chaste kiss on her brow.
His princess, he thought, studying her as she slept. He’d built her an ivory tower. They’d live there together. Forever.
“Isn’t she perfect, Uncle Matthew? Isn’t she beautiful? You’d have loved her too. You’d have known she was the one, the only one.”
He sighed. Uncle Matthew wasn’t speaking to him. He’d been wrong to allow sex to twist his plans. He’d have to be punished. Bread and water only for two days. That’s what his uncle would have done. Meekly he crouched down to clean up the broken dishes. He tidied the room, turned the lights down. With one last, longing glance at Deanna, he slipped out of the room, shutting the panel silently.
“I think it would be best if you’d take Miss Reynolds home.” Jenner rode up in the elevator with Finn. He still resented Finn’s earlier pressuring but he covered it with quiet dignity. “I’d prefer that she was out of the office when we re-interrogate her staff.”
“The minute she finds out that’s what you intend to do, she won’t budge.” Pleased that matters seemed to be moving forward, Finn leaned against the wall. “I’ll do what I can to convince her to stay out of the way, but that’s the best I can offer. Deanna’s fiercely loyal. She won’t want to accept that one of her own people is involved.”
“She may have to.” Jenner headed out of the car the moment the doors opened. “If she kicks up too much of a fuss, we can take her people in to the station. She’ll like that less.”
“You can try. You don’t know her the way I do, Lieutenant. Cassie,” he said as he walked into the reception area. “She in?”
“No.” Baffled, she stopped gathering the stacks of mail she’d intended to post on the way home. “What are you doing here?”
“Cassie Drew?” Jenner inclined his head. “We’d like to ask you some more questions. I wonder if you could get the rest of Miss Reynolds’s staff together?”
“I—I don’t know who’s still in the building. Finn?”
“Why don’t you buzz everyone,” he suggested. “And find Deanna for me, will you?” He wanted to get her out, and quickly. Some instinct told him to hurry. He intended to heed it. “Tell her I’m in the mood to cook.”
“She’s gone home. She left right after you called.”
“I called?” He felt uneasy. “Did Deanna tell you I called?”
“No, you left a message about a meeting, and getting home early. It came in during her fitting, and she left as soon as she was done.”
Finn shoved open the door to Deanna’s office, took one quick scan. “Did you take the message?”
“No, I was in with her when it came in. Jeff took it.”
His eyes were like blue ice when he turned back. “Did he say he spoke to me?”
“Yes—I guess. Is something wrong?” Fear began to gnaw through confusion. Cassie’s gaze darted from Jenner to Finn and back again. “Is something wrong with Deanna?”
Rather than answer, Finn grabbed the phone and punched in his home number. Two rings later, he heard the answering machine click on. With his teeth set, he waited through the message. “Deanna? Pick up if you’re there. Pick up the phone, damn it.”
“She’d have to be home by now. She left more than an hour ago. Finn, what’s going on?”
“What did Jeff tell her?”
“That you’d called, just as I said.”
“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“I—” Frightened, and not knowing why, she put a hand on the desk to keep her balance. “I didn’t hear the phone. I didn’t hear it.”
“Where’s Jeff?”
“I don’t know. He—”
But Finn was already racing down the hall. He burst into one room, found Simon in consultation with Margaret. “Hey, Finn. Don’t bother to knock.”
“Where’s Jeff?”
“He wasn’t feeling well. He went home.” Simon was rising from the desk as he spoke. “What’s the problem?”
“Finn.” Though her hands were stiff with cold, Cassie tugged on Finn’s sleeve. “I called for Tim myself. I talked to him. He met her downstairs.”
“Get him on the line. Now.”
“Mr. Riley.” Jenner spoke calmly as Cassie rushed off to obey. “I’ve got a black-and-white on its way to your house right now. Odds are Miss Reynolds wasn’t answering the phone. That’s all.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Simon demanded. “What’s happened now?”
“Tim doesn’t answer his page.” Cassie stood in the hallway, a hand at her throat. “I got his machine on his home phone.”
“Give me the address,” Jenner said briskly.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Mr. Riley, I know you’re upset, but you’re going to have to let me handle this.”
Jenner stood on the sidewalk in front of Jeff’s suburban home, aware he was only temporarily blocking Finn from storming the door.
“She’s in there. I know it.”
“Not to belittle your instincts, but we can’t know that. We only know that Jeff Hyatt delivered a message. We’re going to check everything out,” Jenner reminded him. “The same way we checked out the driver, Tim O’Malley.”
“Who wasn’t home,” Finn ground out, staring at the windows behind Jenner. “And the company car wasn’t in the lot. And no one’s seen O’Malley since sometime in the afternoon.” His gaze, icy still, cut like a blade back to Jenner. “So where the hell is he? Where the hell is Deanna?”
“That’s what we’re going to try to find out. I’m not going to waste my time telling you to get back in your car and go home, but I am telling you to let me handle this with Hyatt.”
“So handle it.”
His voice might have been cold, his eyes frosty, but Jenner recognized a powder keg ready to explode. The melodious sound of church bells rang out when Jenner pressed the doorbell. Beneath his feet was a mat with the word WEL- COME woven in black. In the center of the door was a glossy Christmas wreath topped by a bright red bow. Colored lights had been neatly strung around the frame. Jeff Hyatt appeared ready for the holidays.
He’d known they would come, and he was ready. Clad comfortably in a tattered sweater and baggy sweats, Jeff descended the stairs. He’d watched them arrive from his bedroom window. He smiled to himself as he paused before the door. This, he knew, was the next step toward freeing Deanna. Toward binding her.
He pulled open the door. “Hey, Finn.” Confusion clouded his eyes as he looked at his visitors. “What’s up?”
“Where is she?” Finn spaced each word precisely. Yes, there was a powder keg inside him, and only the knowledge that it could explode over Deanna kept it tapped. “I want to know where she is.”
“Hey.” His g
rin tilted into confusion. Jeff stared blankly at Finn, then at Jenner. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
“Mr. Hyatt.” Jenner stepped neatly between the two men. “I need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay.” Jeff rubbed his fingertips against his temple. “No problem. Do you want to come in?”
“Thank you. Mr. Hyatt,” Jenner began, “did you relay a message to Miss Reynolds at approximately three o’clock this afternoon?”
“Yeah. Why?” Wincing, Jeff continued to massage his temple. “Jesus. Can we sit down? I’ve got this monster headache.” He turned into the living area. The furnishings were straight out of a catalogue. Matching tables, matching chairs, twin lamps, a soulless, practical suite favored by uninspired bachelors or newlyweds on a strict budget. Only Jeff sat.
“You told her I called?”
“Sure I did.” Jeff’s smile was cautious. His eyes were wary. “Your assistant said to tell Dee you had this meeting and were planning on getting home early.”
“You didn’t talk to Mr. Riley?” Jenner demanded.
“No. I thought it was kind of weird that the call came through my office, but when I went to tell Dee, I saw that she and Cassie were all involved. Dee was getting her wedding dress fitted. She looked incredible.”
“Why did you leave the office early?”
“This headache. I haven’t been able to ditch it all day. It makes it hard to concentrate. Listen.” He stood again, obviously impatient and bewildered. “What’s this all about? Is it some kind of crime to deliver a phone message?”
“What time did you leave the office?”
“Right after I talked to Dee. I came home—well, I went to the store first, picked up some more heavy-duty aspirin. I thought if I laid down awhile . . .” His voice trailed off. “Something’s happened to Dee.” As if his legs wouldn’t support him, he lowered slowly to the couch again. “Oh my God. Is she hurt?”
“She hasn’t been seen since she left the office,” Jenner told him.
“Oh God. Jesus. Have you talked to Tim? Didn’t he drive her home?”
“We’re unable to locate Mr. O’Malley.”
On a shaking breath, Jeff rubbed his hands over his face. “It wasn’t a message from your assistant, was it, Finn? I didn’t ask any questions. I wasn’t paying attention.” His jaw quivered when he dropped his hands again. His eyes were dark with an emotion disguising itself as fear. “All I could think about was getting home and going to bed. I just said, sure, I’ll tell her. And I did.”
“I don’t believe you.” Finn didn’t move a muscle, but the words cracked toward Jeff like a slap. “You’re a meticulous man, Jeff. That’s how Deanna describes you.” And the minutes were ticking away. “Why would you, with everything that’s been going on, pass along a half-baked message like that?”
“It was supposed to be from you,” Jeff shot back. The way Finn studied him, as if he could see all the secrets swimming in his brain, put Jeff on edge. “Why wouldn’t I pass it along?”
“Then you won’t mind if we go through the house.” Finn turned to Jenner. “Through every inch of it.”
“You think I—” Jeff snapped his mouth shut, pushed himself from the couch. “Go ahead,” he said to both men. “Search it. Go through every room. I want you to.”
“We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Hyatt. It would be best if you came with us while we do.”
“Fine.” Jeff stood for a moment, staring at Finn. “I know how you feel about her, and I guess I can’t really blame you for this.”
They went through every room, searching through closets, cupboards, through the garage, where Jeff’s undistinguished sedan was parked. It took less than twenty minutes.
Finn noted the tidy, practical furnishings, the well-pressed, practical clothes. As a director for a number-one show, he’d be well compensated financially. And Finn could see that he sure as hell wasn’t spending any money on himself.
Just what, he wondered, was Jeff Hyatt saving his pennies for?
“I wish she was here.” Jeff felt a quick, gleeful surge as they walked past the bookcase. “At least she’d be safe. I want to help. I want to do something. We can start with the press. We can get national coverage. By morning we’ll have everyone in the country looking for her. Everybody knows her face.” He looked beseechingly at Finn. “Someone will see her. He can’t keep her locked in a tower somewhere.”
“Wherever he has her”—Finn never took his eyes off Jeff’s—“I’ll find her.”
Without a backward glance, Finn strode out of the house. Seconds later, the sound of his engine roared.
“I can’t blame him,” Jeff muttered. He looked toward Jenner. “No one could.”
He locked up carefully behind the policeman. His smile grew wider, wider, wider as he climbed the stairs. They might come back. A small, grinning part of him hoped they would. Because he would lead them right through the house, right by the hidden room where his princess slept.
They would never find her. And eventually they would go away. He and Deanna would be alone. Always.
He turned on the television in his room. The evening news didn’t interest him. He flipped a switch on the splitter behind the set and settled down to watch Deanna.
She slept on, still as a doll behind the glass of the screen. The tears he wept now were of simple joy.
Jenner caught up with Finn at home. He made no mention of the speed limits Finn had ignored. “We’ll be checking out Hyatt and O’Malley thoroughly. Why don’t you be a reporter and get the story on the air?”
“It’ll be on the air.” Standing in the chill December wind, Finn struggled to stave off panic. “Hyatt looked as innocent as a newborn lamb, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.” Jenner blew out a smoky breath. Three days until Christmas, he thought. He would do everything in his power to be certain it was a day of celebration.
“I had some trouble with that house,” Finn said after a moment.
“What kind?”
“Nothing out of place. Not a crooked picture, not a dustball. Books and magazines lined up like soldiers, furniture all but geometrically arranged. Everything centered, squared and bandbox clean.”
“I noticed. Obsessive.”
“That’s how it strikes me. He fits the pattern.”
Jenner acknowledged that with a slight nod. “A man can be obsessively neat without being obsessively homicidal.”
“Where was the Christmas tree?” Finn muttered.
“The Christmas tree?”
“He’s got the wreath, he’s got the lights. But no tree. You’d think he’d have a tree somewhere.”
“Maybe he’s one of those traditionalists who don’t put it up until Christmas Eve.” But the omission was interesting.
“One more thing, Lieutenant. He claims he came home early to lie down. The bed in his room was the only thing mussed up. Pillow scrunched a bit, bedspread wrinkled. We got him up from his nap.”
“So he says.”
“Why did he have his shoes on?” Finn’s eyes gleamed in the lowering light. “The laces were tied in double knots. Someone that neat doesn’t lie down on his bed with his shoes on.”
He’d missed that clue, damn it, Jenner thought. “I believe I mentioned this before, Mr. Riley, you have a good eye.”
He couldn’t stay at home. Not without her. Finn did the only thing that seemed possible. He went back to the station, avoiding the newsroom. He couldn’t bear to answer questions, to be asked questions. He went to his office, brewed a pot of strong coffee. He added a healthy dose of whiskey to the first cup.
He booted up his computer.
“Finn.” Fran stood in the doorway, her face splotchy, her eyes swollen and red. Before he’d risen completely, she took a stumbling step forward. “Oh God, Finn.”
He stroked her shaking shoulders, though he felt no well of comfort that he could offer. It was just the routine, the show of comfort that meant nothing to anyone.