Strands of Truth

by Colleen Coble

  Harper finished the unspoken words lingering in his eyes. “And maybe it wasn’t.”

  * * *

  Annabelle’s knees and right arm felt like a million red ants had feasted on her. The bright lights of the hospital exam room made her wince, and she threw her arm over her eyes. The pungent smell of antiseptic hit her nose as she struggled to come to full consciousness. It felt later than the nine o’clock displayed on the big wall clock. Her ordeal had only lasted a few hours, though it had felt like days.

  “Mom?”

  She removed her arm and blinked up at Scott. How long had she been out, and how did he know to come here? “Someone called you?”

  He was still in his uniform, and his worried hazel eyes held her gaze. His blond hair was soaked from the rain. “I went to your house, and the back door was standing open. When I couldn’t find you, I called for backup, and the dispatcher told me you’d been found on the highway. I came straight to the hospital.”

  Hadn’t she closed the door when she went outside? She couldn’t remember. “There was a man out on the back deck. He drugged me with some kind of shot.” Her tongue still felt thick.

  The chair screeched on the tile floor as he pulled it closer to the bed and sat down. “Can you remember anything else? What about his voice?”

  “He only growled at me for biting him. His voice was gruff and mad before I passed out. I woke up in the trunk.” She told him about her escape and fingered the long road burn on her arm, wincing as her fingers set the area on fire.

  He leaned closer. “Did you see what kind of car it was? Any details about the man?”

  She tried to think. It was all so fuzzy. “All I can remember is he was muscular and taller than me. I think the car was maybe blue or black? It all happened so fast, and it was dark in the backyard with no light.”

  Scott stilled. “No light in the back?”

  She shook her head. “The bulb must have gone out.”

  “Or the perp broke it.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “I’m forty-nine, Scott. It’s not like I’m some beautiful young thing. Why would someone try to kidnap me?”

  “I don’t know, Mom.” His square jaw clenched, and he pressed his lips together. “I’m going to find out though. What about the woman who came to see you yesterday? Could she have had anything to do with this?”

  She struggled to sit up. “Harper? She’s lovely, honey. Pretty, intelligent, and very sweet. She’s been trying to find her father and hoped I might have a lead. Here’s the funny thing though—her mother died moments after Harper was born. Harper’s mentor always thought someone had tampered with her mother’s brakes or forced her off the road. I gave her copies of everything I have from my mom’s murder.”

  He lifted a dark-blond brow. “While that’s odd, it seems unlikely to have anything to do with your attack.”

  He was right. She relaxed against the pillow. “I just want to go home. Can you spring me?”

  “They want you to stay the night because you were unconscious. The docs are running toxicology, too, to see what the guy injected into your arm. They want to make sure you have no lingering effects—especially with your . . .” He looked away.

  “My cancer.” She touched his arm. “It’s okay to say the word. We’re going to be dealing with it for a while.”

  Her son’s eyes filled with moisture, strong cop that he was, and he took her hand. “You’ll beat it, Mom.”

  She clung to his strong fingers. “I’ll give it my best shot. Did you call your brother?”

  “I called him. He’s catching a red-eye.”

  “He doesn’t need to do that!”

  Her younger son, Mark, lived in New York and worked on Wall Street. He’d recently gotten engaged, and she didn’t see him much, though she knew he loved her. The boys had their own lives, and she never wanted to be a burden.

  “He wanted to. You start treatment next week anyway. It would be good if we’re both here for support.”

  Her dear boys. They were always there for her. She’d have this weekend with them before facing chemo.

  “Harper is going to come back on Saturday and let me know what she found out from the detective. We’ll see if there’s any connection between the two cases.”

  “I intend to be there. I’m sure Mark will feel the same way.”

  Annabelle suppressed a sigh. The last thing Harper needed was to face her suspicious son, but she bit back the complaint. He was only trying to look out for her.

  11

  He stroked the scar on his cheek as he stared at the house but couldn’t drum up the courage to go in yet. His boss didn’t suffer fools gladly, and he should have tied the Rice woman up. How did she manage to get out of his trunk? And what did he do now?

  He should get out, go to the front door, and admit his failure, but instead he put his car into Drive and headed away from the recriminations he’d be sure to hear. If he failed he’d have to give back the money he’d been paid. Even worse, his son wouldn’t get the kidney transplant he desperately needed.

  Failure was not an option.

  He drove to the spot where he’d lost her and parked at the side of the road. Where would someone have taken her? Back home or to her son’s? Or maybe to the hospital? Falling out of the trunk might have injured her. She’d either be taken to Orlando or to Tampa, but since she was from Orlando, he was betting on there. He pulled back onto the highway and made his way to Florida Hospital on Rollins Street.

  He went inside, grabbed an orderly’s uniform from a supply closet, and found the men’s room where he changed and put on a confident smile before he approached the information desk. Armed with Annabelle’s room number, he went up to her floor and scurried toward her room. His smile faltered when he saw a police officer standing outside her door. He reversed his direction and went back to the elevator.

  He had no choice but to admit his failure to his boss and get new orders. He placed the call he dreaded and winced as he got chewed out. “It wasn’t my fault,” he managed to slip in.

  “You should have restrained her,” his boss barked back. “And you said you saw Harper taking a box from Annabelle’s house. Do you know what was in it?”

  “No.”

  “Find out. Better yet, destroy it.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “I need her brought to me as soon as possible.”

  “Of course.” He ended the call and started the car.

  It would be easy enough to find her. He’d planted a locator bug on the hull of her houseboat.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful night under the stars. Harper sat on the top deck after her friends left. She turned off her lights, and the bright canopy of stars soothed her spirits and dispersed the darkness pressing in. A fish splashed in the water near her boat, and Bear lifted his head.

  Several times during the evening she’d wished Sara had come alone. She would’ve liked to have told her about the confrontation with Ridge. Since he was Oliver’s son, maybe he deserved to know the truth, though she feared he’d still be upset his father was involved.

  She touched her belly. “Are you in there, peanut?”

  She didn’t dare hope the procedure had worked. Not yet. A pregnancy test sat waiting on her bedside table, but it was too soon to take it. It had only been a week, and she didn’t think it would reveal anything yet. Maybe in another two days she’d take the test, even though the doctor had warned her not to do that. She couldn’t stand waiting another week to get a peek at what might be happening.

  Bear lay snoozing at her feet as she breathed in the salt air mingled with the distant stench of diesel fuel from a passing boat. Six o’clock would come much too early tomorrow, and she needed to get some rest. It would be a hard day opening the bivalves, though she was eager to deliver the meat to the restaurants and see how they did on the menus. Her entire business model was riding on how customers reacted to the new items. Bivalves weren’t commonly seen as edible, but she
was counting on the customers coming back for more of the sweet meat.

  Bear picked up his head and uttered a low growl. He got up and crouched by the ladder. A vehicle hadn’t come down the lane but maybe a deer was out there. Harper tipped her head and listened. Was that a twig that snapped? Bear’s fur stood on end, and his growl went to a higher decibel.

  She slid down and crouched beside him at the ladder. He calmed a bit when she put her hand on his head, but her sense of unease rose when she heard another snap of vegetation. The cupboard on the other side of the deck held a flashlight, and she slinked over there to grab it. Her heart drummed in her ears. She wanted to call out, but her tongue wouldn’t move.

  Someone was out there. She could feel it like a light breath on her skin. Senses on high alert, she crept down the ladder with Bear under one arm to the main level and peered into the darkness. Maybe she should move away from shore. The menace she felt from the shadows was palpable. Was it her imagination? She wasn’t normally the type to conceive of a threat around every corner, but since the attack in the water, she’d been a little skittish.

  She put down the dog and headed for the wheelhouse, but a sound behind her made her whirl with the flashlight out in front of her. Before she could click it on, a dark figure lunged from the shore onto the deck. She caught a glimpse of a ski mask above broad shoulders clad in black before a sickly sweet-smelling cloth descended onto her face.

  Bear’s growl was ferocious, then he yelped. The man must have kicked him.

  Her head swam from the scent, and she flung herself back to try to escape the man’s iron grip, but he came with her and his weight bore her to the deck. His bulk pressed against her, and no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t dislodge the cloth from her face.

  Her chest burned with the need for air, and involuntarily she drew in a breath. The sweet odor seeped into her lungs, and numbness began to soften the edges of her consciousness.

  She tried to keep her eyelids from closing, but reality receded.

  * * *

  “Harper?”

  A voice from the distance tugged her back toward the surface. She coughed and still smelled the odor of the chemical her attacker had used. Bear licked her face and whined.

  “Harper, are you all right?”

  Ridge. She forced her eyes open and looked up. She was still on the deck with the moonlight streaming onto her face. Ridge crouched over her. He wore a white polo shirt over khaki shorts, so he wasn’t her attacker.

  A worried frown crouched between his eyes, and he held a bottle of water to her lips. “Drink.”

  She obeyed and managed a sip of blessedly cool water. With his arm behind her back, she was able to sit up, though her head still swam. “That awful taste is in my mouth.”

  He held the bottle to her mouth again. “Did you recognize the guy? It was too dark for me to see much.”

  “You didn’t see him?” The cool water began to wash away the chemical taste.

  “He was dragging you toward the bushes when I got here. I shouted at him and he ran off. I didn’t chase him because I was concerned when you weren’t moving. I heard a vehicle start up and tear away from here so I’m sure he’s gone.”

  Shudders rippled in waves down her body. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He helped her to the side of the boat, and she vomited over the edge.

  He rubbed her back. “Ether does that. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”

  “It was ether?”

  “Smells like it to me.”

  She took the bottle of water he offered and rinsed out her mouth, then swallowed another mouthful. “I knew someone was out there, and I was getting ready to move away from shore, but he jumped aboard before I could get out of here.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Not a word. He just clapped that cloth over my face.” Harper’s legs wouldn’t support her, and she sank to the deck. Bear crawled into her lap, and she held him to her chest.

  Ridge squatted beside her. “We should get you to the ER and make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’m okay. What are you doing here anyway? It’s late.”

  “It’s a little after eleven. I came by to see if you were awake. I wanted to apologize. I’m not proud of how I’ve been acting.”

  Was that all it was, or did Ridge know more about the attack than she knew? “This makes two attacks, and in both cases, the man seemed to be trying to abduct me not kill me.”

  “I don’t like it.” He stood and offered her a hand. “You get to bed. I’m going to move the boat out away from shore while you sleep. I’ll stand guard.”

  But was that safe? She felt too exhausted to argue with him. At least she could lock the door to the living quarters.

  12

  Was that the smell of bacon? Harper blinked her eyes open, then winced at the sunshine streaming in her window. Her head pounded, and she assumed it was the aftereffects of the ether the night before. She pulled a lightweight robe over her shortie pajamas and went into the salon.

  Ridge stood at the stove flipping omelets. He glanced her way. “Hungry?” Her stomach rumbled before she could answer, and he grinned. “I heard that. Breakfast is ready.”

  She glanced out the windows onto the water but didn’t recognize the shoreline. “Where are we?”

  “About a quarter of a mile out from Dunedin. No boats approached us in the night, so I think the guy gave up or didn’t have access to a boat.”

  “Thanks.” She took the plate he held out and carried the food to the sofa. “Did you stay up all night?”

  “Yep. I wasn’t sure if the assailant would come after us.” He stooped and put Bear’s food bowl on the floor and smiled as the dog tore into his breakfast.

  “You should have awakened me to take a turn at standing guard.”

  Ridge carried his plate of food over and sat in a chair facing the sofa. “You needed to sleep off the ether. Headache?”

  “Yes.” Her stomach roiled, but she forked a bit of omelet anyway. “My stomach isn’t too happy either.”

  “Ether is nasty stuff. It isn’t used much outside of laboratories, which might give us a clue to your attacker. I called the sheriff’s department and reported the attack. An investigator is supposed to meet us first thing this morning at the marina. I’ll eat breakfast, then take the boat in.”

  Pain throbbed behind her left eye, and she pressed her fingers against the pulsing spot. “I know we needed to report it, but I feel pretty rough this morning. Talking to a detective doesn’t sound fun. I’ll get through it though.”

  She forked a bite of food into her mouth. The cheese and bacon felt heavy but she forced herself to chew and swallow. Getting something in her belly should help reduce the nausea. Ridge didn’t have much to say as he gulped down his breakfast.

  He rose. “I’ll get us to the dock.” Bear followed him.

  She nodded without looking up and continued to try to get down a little food. A few minutes later the engine throbbed to life, and the shoreline moved past as he motored them to the marina. She carried the remains of breakfast to the small galley and dumped the rest of her omelet in the trash, then gulped down three ibuprofens before she dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. She poured two mugs of coffee and carried them out to the wheelhouse.

  Ridge glanced up. “Good call. Coffee might help your head.” His left hand rested atop Bear, who was on his lap.

  She set his mug of coffee down in front of him, then slipped into the seat beside him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “What?”

  She looked him over, taking note of the fatigue in his eyes and the tired twist of his mouth. “Staying up all night and taking care of me. We’ve been at loggerheads since the first time we met.”

  Those dark eyes of his cut sideways at her, then went back to scouring the water ahead as the marina came into view. “Common decency. I wouldn’t let Bear be attacked, and he’s a dog.”

  She shouldn’t have b
een disappointed, because she knew how he felt about her, but it still stung to be dismissed like that. “Well, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.”

  He maneuvered the boat into its slip and cut the engine. “I think I see a couple of deputies sitting on the bench there.”

  She looked in the direction he’d pointed and spied them, too, a man and a woman. “Let’s get this over with.” After tying off the boat, she stepped onto the pier and approached the deputies. “Are you waiting for me? I’m Harper Taylor.”

  Ridge came up behind her and stood close as if to offer solidarity.

  The female deputy rose and nodded. She was in her thirties with blonde hair and wore no makeup. “We were notified that you were attacked late last night. Ideally, we would like to have interviewed you right after the assault.”

  “I was knocked out and pretty fuzzy, so I’m not sure I would have been much help.”

  The woman lifted a brow and introduced them, but Harper’s throbbing head couldn’t seem to hold on to the names. She described what little she remembered of the man’s appearance and how she’d awakened with Ridge helping her.

  “And how do you know Mr. Jackson? Are you dating?” the male deputy asked. The officers eyed Ridge.

  “I’ve known him for fifteen years. His dad is my mentor and business partner.”

  The suspicion on their faces faded, but the woman turned her attention to Ridge. “Why were you arriving at Ms. Taylor’s boat at such a late hour?”

  “We’d had an argument and I wanted to apologize.”

  She should have known he’d spill it. Ridge was one of those people who didn’t fudge the truth.

  “An argument? What about?” the woman probed.

  “It was personal and had nothing to do with this incident.”

  The two deputies glanced at each other, and the man shrugged. “There isn’t much we can do without a description, and you say the man wore a ski mask. You didn’t see his vehicle, so there’s no way to ID him. Did you go to the hospital?”