by Lara Lacombe
Her daughter shifted inside her, as if communicating her agreement with the plan.
“We’ve got this.” Molly put her hand on her belly, patting softly. There were a million different reasons why this plan wouldn’t work, but she refused to consider them now. Here in the cold darkness, she needed to focus on hope. It was the only way she would make it through the night.
* * *
Max and Mason stood on Molly’s front porch, staring down the driveway in the fading light of the afternoon.
“I’m not sure we needed to call the police just yet,” Mason said. “For one thing, we’re not even certain she’s missing.”
Max didn’t bother to look at the man. “She’s not here. She’s not answering her phone. Her car is still in the garage, and her purse is sitting on top of the washer. Where, pray tell, do you think she is?”
“Maybe she went for a walk?” Mason suggested weakly.
“No.”
After finding Molly’s car in the garage, Max had wasted no time calling the police. The dispatcher had told him help was on the way, but since it wasn’t an emergency call, they weren’t a high priority.
“Don’t you have any family connections in law enforcement?” Max had asked after hanging up.
“Well, my cousin Trey is the sheriff...” Mason had said hesitantly.
“Call him.”
“I’d hate to waste his time.”
“Call. Him.”
So Mason had made the call. Trey had promised to come. There was nothing to do now but wait.
And Max hated it.
His imagination ran wild, coming up with increasingly disturbing scenarios. What if Molly had taken a walk as Mason suggested, but been mauled by a bear or a mountain lion? What if she was lying in a ditch, bleeding and in pain? How would they ever find her?
His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a car. The vehicle turned into Molly’s driveway, then stopped abruptly as the driver caught sight of Mason’s truck and the two of them on the porch.
Max squinted in the gloam. “Is that the sheriff?”
“No.” Mason leaned forward. “I think that’s Elaine’s car.”
“Who’s Elaine?”
“My wife.” Mason waved at the driver. The car started forward again, pulling in behind Mason’s truck. After a moment, the engine turned off and the driver’s door opened.
Mason headed down the porch steps. “Hey, baby,” he said to the blonde woman who emerged from the car. “What’s going on?”
“Ah, nothing. What are you doing here?”
“We’re looking for Molly.” Mason and Elaine walked to the porch. She noticed Max, gave him a nod. He nodded back, studying her.
She seemed nervous, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she stood in place. Her eyes darted around, landing on him, then Furbert, then Mason, then the front door.
“Where is Molly?” she asked.
“We don’t know,” Max said before Mason had a chance to speak. “Have you seen or heard from her today?”
“Me?” She huffed out a laugh that sounded forced. “No. I’m the last person she’d want to talk to.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
Elaine ducked her head. “We got into an argument the other day.”
“You did?” Mason stared at his wife in surprise.
She nodded. “I said some unkind things to her after finding out about the baby.”
Understanding flashed across Mason’s face, and he pulled her close for a hug. “She knows you didn’t mean them,” he said.
Elaine closed her eyes. “That’s why I’m here,” she explained once Mason had released her. “I wanted to apologize.”
Max tilted his head to the side as he watched her. There was something about this woman that didn’t add up, though Mason didn’t seem to think anything was wrong. But who showed up unannounced at dusk to apologize?
Another car turned onto the driveway. This driver pulled confidently forward, and in under a minute, a tall, broad-shouldered man walked toward them. “Mason. Elaine.” He nodded at each one in turn. Then he looked at Max. “Trey Colton,” he said, extending his hand.
Max shook it. “Max Hollick.”
Recognition flashed across Trey’s face. “I know you by reputation,” he said. “Your charity does good work.”
“Thank you,” Max replied reflexively. “I appreciate you coming out this evening.”
“No problem. Now who wants to tell me what’s going on? Mason, you said you’re worried about your sister?”
Mason opened his mouth, but Max jumped in first. “I’m the reason he called.” He explained his connection to Molly, then listed his concerns, including the fact that her car was still in the garage and her purse in the house. “She’s pregnant,” he finished. “I just want to know that she and the baby are fine.”
Trey nodded, taking it all in with a quiet competence that made Max feel a little better. “Let’s walk through her house,” Trey suggested.
At his suggestion, they all traipsed inside. Max, Mason and Elaine stood in the living room while Trey explored the home, quietly moving from room to room.
Elaine continued to fidget as Trey searched. Even Mason noticed; he put his hand on her arm. “Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m just worried about Molly. I can’t imagine where she’d go.”
Max said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak around Molly’s brother and sister-in-law. It seemed that Mason was in denial about Molly’s absence. Perhaps that was how the man coped with stress. That was fine for him, but Max wasn’t about to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while he hoped for Molly’s safe return.
After a few minutes, Trey joined them in the living room. “I see no signs of foul play,” he said, confirming what Max had already observed.
“She didn’t just disappear,” Max insisted.
“Probably not,” Trey said. “But I’m afraid it’s too early to file a missing persons report.”
“What can we do in the meantime?” Max wasn’t about to passively wait out the clock. He’d organize a search party himself if it came to that.
“I’ll alert my team, tell everyone to be on the lookout for Molly. Maybe someone will find her walking through town or headed home. I’m afraid that’s all I can do for now.”
Max bit his tongue. “I see,” he said shortly.
Trey looked at each one of them. “I know you’re all worried. This is out of character for Molly. But given the shocking news we’ve all had recently...” He trailed off, shook his head. “I’m hoping she just wanted some time to think and clear her mind.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Mason said, looking relieved at his cousin’s suggestion.
“Yes,” Elaine echoed weakly. “That must be it.”
Max narrowed his eyes at the two of them, but didn’t respond. “All right,” he said, knowing it was futile to argue. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait.”
Trey nodded. “I’ll check in first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, let me know if any of you hear from her.”
“We will,” Mason promised.
Trey headed for the door. “Mason, can I trust you to lock up here?”
“Yes,” Mason replied. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
“It’s not a bother,” Trey repeated. “Hopefully Molly will turn up soon, wondering what all the fuss is about.” With a nod at Max, Trey walked out of Molly’s house.
Max waited until he heard the man’s car start. Then he turned to Elaine. “Can you give me a ride back to The Lodge?”
She flinched. “Um, surely it would be better if Mason—”
“I can’t,” Mason replied. “I’ve got to head back to the office, close up some things before going home. It won’t take you long, sweetie.”
“Al
l right.” She swallowed, pasted on a false smile. “I suppose it’s not a problem.”
“Thanks,” Max said flatly. He followed her out to the car, Furbert trotting after him.
“Oh,” she said, drawing up short. “Your dog.”
“Don’t worry,” Max replied matter-of-factly. “He won’t mess up your seats.” He moved past Elaine and opened the back door of her sedan. Furbert hopped inside, arranging himself on the seat. Then Max opened the passenger door, pausing for a second as he caught sight of a small dark spot on the upholstery.
Is that blood?
He couldn’t go in for a closer look, not without arousing suspicion. So he climbed into the car, shutting the door after him. When Elaine opened her door, the courtesy lights inside the car flashed on again. Max took advantage of the momentary illumination to examine the headrest of his seat as he turned and grabbed the seat belt. There, clinging to the fabric, was a single golden strand of hair.
A chill went through him at the sight. Elaine had blond hair, but Max knew in his bones this strand belonged to Molly.
He forced himself to buckle the seat belt as if nothing was wrong. But inside, his mind was churning.
Elaine had taken Molly—he knew that much, even though his conclusion would never stand up in a court of law. But why would Mason’s wife do that? She’d mentioned having an argument with Molly earlier. What had they fought about?
What had driven this woman to kidnap Molly? More importantly, what had she done with her?
Was Molly already dead? Had Elaine come back to her house to get rid of any evidence she’d left behind? Maybe so, but neither he nor Mason nor Trey had noticed anything unusual. If Elaine had killed Molly, she would have had to do it elsewhere.
Why go back to the house at all, then? She’d clearly been coming for something. But whatever the reason, she’d had to change her plans upon catching sight of Max and Mason.
He didn’t for one minute believe her line about coming to apologize to Molly. And while her hesitation upon first seeing her husband and Max could be read as surprise, he knew in his gut it was shock that had made her pause. She’d had to come up with a lie on the spot to explain her presence, and while she may have fooled Mason, Max wasn’t so easily convinced.
What should he do now? He wanted to grab the woman by the shoulders and shake the truth out of her. His fingertips itched with the urge to do violence, to extract a confession from her by any means necessary. If this woman had killed Molly... He released the thought, knowing that if he followed it to its conclusion, he’d lose the tenuous grip he had on his self-control.
She’s not dead, he told himself. She couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow it, and that was that.
He slid a glance at Elaine as she drove. Should he prod her a bit, see if she revealed anything? Or would she panic if he got too close to the truth? Only one way to find out...
“Where do you think Molly is?”
Elaine jumped at the sound of his voice, though he’d spoken quietly. “Oh! Ah, I’m sure she’s just taking a little time for herself.” A trill of a laugh escaped her, the sound more suited to a garden party than a serious conversation.
“I hope you’re right,” he said sincerely.
“Honestly, you shouldn’t worry,” Elaine said. “Besides, I hear through the grapevine you’re leaving soon? Maybe Molly is simply lying low until you’re gone.”
“Or maybe she’s avoiding you,” he suggested. “After all, you’re the one who fought with her the other day.”
Elaine didn’t respond, but he thought he saw a flash of emotion cross her face.
“What did you argue about, anyway?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” But Max could tell by the set of her mouth she wanted to say more. So he remained silent, hoping she’d continue to talk.
She didn’t disappoint. “You’re the baby’s father, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, you should know Molly isn’t taking proper care of herself.”
“How’s that?”
“She’s drinking coffee. You’re not supposed to have caffeine during pregnancy. And when I was there the other day, I saw beer in her fridge.”
Max had noticed that the other night, too, but he wasn’t worried. The evidence Elaine found so damning was nothing more than a treat Molly had bought for him during his last visit almost six months ago.
“You think she’s drinking alcohol?”
Elaine shrugged. “All I know is that if that was my baby—” She broke off, pursing her lips.
Her words made the hair on the back of Max’s neck stand at attention. Was Elaine jealous of the pregnancy? Had she taken Molly as part of some kind of bizarre “intervention” she’d deluded herself into thinking was necessary?
Before he could think of another question, she pulled into the round drive in front of The Lodge. “Here you are,” she announced, relief evident in her voice.
Max climbed out of the car and opened the door for Furbert. “Thanks for the ride,” he said evenly. He held the passenger door open so she couldn’t take off. “I hope you and Mason will let me know if you hear from Molly.”
“Naturally. But as I said before, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine.”
Max closed the door and watched as Elaine sped away like her hair was on fire. Her nervous demeanor, her words regarding Molly’s behavior, the possible blood spot on her car’s seat and the blond hair clinging to the passenger headrest—it all pointed to Elaine’s involvement in Molly’s disappearance.
“Three strikes,” he muttered to himself. In the service, he’d had a simple philosophy—there’s no such thing as a coincidence. So the fact that Molly’s sister-in-law just happened to have a suspicious-looking spot and blond hair in her car on the same day Molly went missing? It was as good as a confession to him.
So what now? The sheriff wasn’t likely to act on the basis of Max’s suspicions. He seemed like a good man, but one who followed the rules. Max didn’t have time for “by the book,” not when Molly’s life and that of his unborn daughter were at stake. Maybe it was time to dust off some of his old covert skills...
Max walked into the lobby of The Lodge and marched up to the concierge desk, Furbert on his heels.
“I need to rent a car.”
Chapter 15
Molly came awake with a jolt, her eyes flying open and her heart thumping hard against her ribs.
She glanced around the room. Rusted desk, dilapidated file cabinet, thin blanket—yep, all still there.
She wasn’t aware of having fallen asleep—hadn’t meant to, in fact. But sometime during the night, fatigue had gotten the best of her.
Her body ached, a combination of the chilly air and her uncomfortable quarters. Her muscles were so stiff she felt as though she were sporting a full-body cast. God, would she even be able to move—?
Only one way to find out. Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself into a sitting position. After a few steadying breaths, she placed her feet on the floor and stood up. A moan escaped her as her legs protested her weight. The sound echoed in the empty, cavernous warehouse, startling a nesting bird in the rafters. It took off with an indignant chirp, feathers rustling as it flew. Molly watched the bird escape through one of the broken windows set high in the wall, wishing she could scale those heights herself.
She squinted at the window, trying to gauge the time. The light was thin and watery, a pale illumination that did little more than allow Molly to see her hand in front of her face. But it was better than the total darkness of last night.
Her stomach growled and her throat cried out for water. Molly shuffled over to the file cabinet, the chain at her ankle clanging as she moved. She grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water and returned to the bed, lowering herself onto the mattress with a grunt.
She chewed without tasting, eating o
nly to keep up her strength. When she was done, she put the trash in one of the empty desk drawers. After availing herself of the bucket, she stood in front of the bed, eyeing it with a frown.
The light was stronger now, which made things easier. Molly lifted the mattress, getting her first good look at the wire mesh underneath. Thin metal wire was laid out in a grid pattern, with each strip anchored to the bed frame by a tightly coiled metal spring. If she could pry one of the springs free, she could expose the end of one of the wires. It looked small enough to fit in the lock of the handcuffs at her ankle, and since she had nothing but time on her hands, she should eventually be able to release the lock.
Molly knelt next to the bed, ignoring the ache in her thighs and knees. She grabbed the closest spring and gave it an experimental tug. Rust flaked off into her hand and rained onto the floor with a soft patter. The metal of the spring was rough, and it scratched her hands as she pulled and shoved and pried, trying to move it from its spot. Her fingers and palms began to sting as rust and grime came into contact with the lacerations. Hissing through her teeth, Molly continued her efforts until her hands were slick with blood.
She wiped them across the front of her shirt and attacked the spring again. Now that her skin was dry she was able to get a better grip on the metal. Her arms began to ache as she continued to pull, but gradually the spring began to move, rewarding her for her efforts.
Excitement thrummed through her as she worked one end of the spring free from the tiny hole in the bed frame. “Come on,” she muttered. Her fingers slipped, losing purchase. The spring slid out of her grasp, falling back into place. Molly cursed a blue streak, but dried her hands on her shirt and started again. Now that she knew she could move it, she was determined to keep at it until the spring was free.
After several minutes of effort, the spring slid out of its berth with a metallic scratch. Molly let out a triumphant yell and rocked back on her heels. She’d done it!
Now that the spring was no longer under tension, it was easy work to unhook it from the metal wire that made up the grid. Molly soon held the free end of the wire in her hand, ready to use.
