by Brenda Novak
Zoe didn’t finish. Someone had answered at the rehab place, and Sharon was nodding to let her know she understood. “Who’s this?” she said into the mouthpiece.
There was a pause. “Hi, Doug. It’s Sharon Thornton…. Good, you?…How’s Ely doing today?”
“Great.” She stared down at her slippers while she talked. “Glad to hear it…. No, no need to tell him I called. I’ll write…. Thanks, we all do what we can…. You bet…. I know, not much longer.”
She said goodbye and hit the End button.
“Well?” Zoe asked.
She handed Jonathan his phone. “He’s still there. And he doesn’t know a thing about Sam or he would’ve raised a fuss.”
Zoe clutched Jonathan’s arm, but when her fingers met with the contours of firm muscle and warm skin, she dropped her hand as if he’d burned her. “Sam’s not with him. We’ve got to get back to Sacramento.”
He didn’t seem as relieved as she did. “Tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Why tomorrow? If we head straight to the airport, we might be able to catch a flight this evening.”
“We have to go to a hardware store so I can fix the door.”
“I can have a friend take care of that,” Sharon said, shooing them out. “He’s a retired carpenter, so a broken door’s nothing. You go find Sam.”
Zoe gave her a hug. “Thanks, Sharon.”
“I’ll keep an eye on your dad, let you know what happens. I hope—I hope you find Sam.”
“I know.” Zoe followed Jonathan out, catching his arm again as they reached the car. “So are we going home?”
“You are. I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I have one more stop.”
What more could he do? Go to the rehab place? What point was there in that? “Where?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “San Diego.”
A chill crept up Zoe’s spine. She knew that the man who’d raped her was originally from San Diego. “What’s in San Diego?”
Jonathan didn’t answer right away.
“Not Franky Bates,” she said.
His voice was regretful. “Now that Ely’s in the clear, we have to make sure Franky doesn’t have Sam.”
It made sense. But the mere possibility of anything bringing Franky back into her life was enough to make Zoe’s knees give out. Then the ground rushed up to meet her.
* * *
Tiffany had kept her promise. She’d brought a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich after Sam had forced herself to swallow a few dry pellets of dog food. But that had been hours and hours ago, and Sam was hungry again, so hungry her stomach cramped constantly.
Where was Tiffany? And Colin? Surely, after so long, he’d returned from work. Sam hated being unable to see out of the room and she hated her lack of clothes. But nothing hurt as much as the way she missed her mom.
She eyed the dog food by the door. If she ever wanted to see Zoe again, she needed to eat. She wouldn’t be able to move if she didn’t regain her strength. Merely holding on, praying, wasn’t enough. Help didn’t seem to be coming….
“I’m on my own,” she whispered.
Finally relinquishing her hold on the ragged blanket, she crawled to the dog food. Could she choke down more of it? Would it make her sick if she did?
It wouldn’t leave her any worse off than she was already. But having to lick up her own vomit if her stomach revolted made her afraid to even try. She’d been warned, and she believed Colin would enjoy following through on the threat.
Pressing her ear against the door, she strained to hear the slightest sound. Were Tiffany and Colin at home? The house seemed empty. But it was hard to tell. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t hear much in this room. It might be that the Bells were downstairs having dinner—and if she made any noise Colin would come up to punish her.
He’ll kill you. He wasn’t lying about that….
Sam’s tears dripped into the dog bowl. Barely strong enough to lift her head, she slumped over and watched them fall. Then she squeezed her eyes closed, scooped the pellets into both hands and shoved them in her mouth.
After chewing as fast as she could, she washed the food down with water from the second bowl. For all she knew, that water had been taken out of a toilet. It would be like her “master” to do something so gross. But she had no choice. She had to be strong enough to escape if the opportunity arose….
Dog food tasted so terrible she couldn’t believe even dogs liked it, but at least those pellets filled her belly, momentarily easing the aching and growling. Soon, she was feeling a bit better—until she spotted something that sent her fear spiraling to new heights.
There, along the baseboard, she found a series of little marks, made with a sharp object or maybe just a fingernail. They weren’t random; they were grouped in fives. Four straight lines, then one slanting through the four; it was how her mother kept track of the flyers she bundled for the real estate agents at her office. The “pet” who’d been trapped in this room before her, the one who’d probably left that stain on the mattress, had been keeping track of something. And Sam was pretty sure she knew what because she was tempted to do the same.
These marks represented days. Days spent inside this room, locked up and treated the way she was being treated—like a dog.
Lying on her stomach, she swept her gaze along the row of groupings, counting and recounting—and staring at that final mark, which was all by itself.
Sixty-six in all. Sixty-five and then one.
What happened on day sixty-six?
CHAPTER 14
“What’s wrong?” Tiffany asked.
Eager to tell Zoe about the posse he’d formed to search for Sam on Saturday morning, Colin had gone next door as soon as he arrived home from work. But Anton Lucassi had told him Zoe was “out of town.”
“She’s not out of town,” he said, stalking around the living room. “That’s stupid. Where would she go?”
Tiffany finally mumbled a sentence he couldn’t quite hear.
“What?” Grabbing her by the blouse, he hauled her up from the couch, lifting her off the ground until their noses touched. “If you’ve got something to say to me, speak up.”
“I said you seem to care more about Zoe than you do about Sam.”
With a scowl, he let her go. “The girl’s sick. What can I do with her when she’s infectious? You think I wanna get mono?”
“No,” she muttered.
“That’s right.”
“But you could train her. You spent hours and hours training Rover. You loved it.”
“Yeah, well, she’s smarter than Rover. It won’t be as much fun.” Besides, the excitement going on next door wouldn’t last forever. He wanted to be with Zoe, wanted to share every emotion-filled minute.
He remembered her accepting his cigarette, bringing it to her lips…. “I bet he’s lying,” he said as he adjusted himself.
Tiffany’s eyes flicked to the proof of his arousal. “Who?”
“Anton.”
“But he doesn’t have any reason to lie about Zoe.”
“He sure as hell does! He wants to get rid of me. He sees me as a threat.”
“Why would he see you as a threat?”
“Because I’m a hell of a lot younger than he is, that’s why. I can give Zoe pleasure he can only dream about. I bet he can’t even get it up half the time.”
Dread shadowed Tiffany’s features. “Why are you talking like that, Colin? Are you teasing me again?”
He wasn’t teasing. But there was nothing to be gained by letting Tiffany know how much he was coming to admire Zoe. He’d originally considered Zoe stuck up, had only been tempted by the challenge she provided, but after spending time with her he realized that she was just…cautious.
He wondered what had made her that way….
“Colin?” Tiffany prompted.
“Of course I’m joking,” he snapped. “What do you think? Yo
u’re such an easy mark.”
She raised her chin. “Then why are you mad at Anton?”
“Because I’m trying to help him, and he’s turning me away.”
“Trying to help him?” she echoed. “You’re the reason he’s miserable!”
“No, you’re the reason,” he said with a smirk. “And he doesn’t know we had anything to do with Samantha’s disappearance.”
“He’s probably not shutting you out on purpose. He’s just…mourning the loss of his stepdaughter.”
“She’s not his stepdaughter.”
“She will be when they get married.”
Colin shook his head. “No way. Zoe’s not stupid—she won’t go through with marrying him. He’s not nearly good enough for her.”
A strange gleam came into Tiffany’s eyes, a gleam that reminded him of her brother, who was currently sitting on death row. “Why are you so interested in the woman next door?” she asked. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? You’re making me regret taking Sam.”
He wanted to use his fists to vent the burst of irritation that flashed through him at this small act of defiance. Already imagining the satisfaction of feeling his knuckles crush her face, he curled his fingers into his palm—but at that moment a familiar face appeared on the television behind her, making him freeze. “Turn that up!”
Motivated by the look that had, no doubt, come over him before he’d almost hit her and the sharpness of his voice, she scrambled to obey. Then she stepped aside so he could see the anchorman give a thirty-second preview of the news.
“…A boy, from Antelope, found naked and badly beaten, tells a harrowing tale. His story? He claims to have been lured into a car by a man, who tortured him for weeks. More at eleven.”
* * *
Zoe stood next to Jonathan at the front desk of a moderately priced hotel on Hotel Circle in San Diego. She hated the thought of renting a room for the night, but after her collapse, Jonathan wouldn’t let her head home on her own, and they’d gotten into such terrible traffic it was too late to go and see Franky’s mother. Zoe figured there wasn’t much point in rushing back, anyway. Detective Thomas had called to give her an update and assured her that he and several other officers were searching, but hadn’t found anything.
“Would you like a queen-size bed or a king-size bed for each room?” The hotel clerk smiled graciously.
Jonathan turned to Zoe.
“I’m getting my own room?” she asked.
He seemed surprised. “Isn’t that what you want?”
Definitely not. She couldn’t be alone. The worry and fear she’d been holding at bay would eat her alive. “No.”
She halfway expected him to suggest the obvious—that it might not look good should Anton hear of it. But she didn’t plan on crossing any lines, so she didn’t see why Anton would have to know. She just had to get through another night, and being with Jonathan was easier than facing an interminable number of hours alone.
Fortunately, he didn’t question her decision. He didn’t even comment on it. He simply took charge as if it was perfectly normal to share a room. And she knew he hadn’t misunderstood her motivation when he asked for two beds in one room.
The hotel clerk frowned as he consulted the computer. “It’s our busy season. I doubt we have a double,” he said, but his eyes continued to scan the screen. Half a minute later, his smile was back. “You’re in luck. We’ve had a cancellation.”
Zoe had insisted on coming in rather than waiting in the car so she could pay the bill. She knew Skye’s charity had more people to help than just her, that it had to be difficult for The Last Stand to stay afloat. She didn’t want to be a drain on its assets. Not when she was so grateful for what Skye was already providing. But Jonathan pushed the credit card she placed on the counter out of the clerk’s reach. “I’ve got it.”
“Jon, I can’t keep…”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What?”
“Taking.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me feel guilty. Like a—a slouch or—”
“I’d have to rent a room if you weren’t here,” he interrupted. “Give yourself a break for a change.” The smile that curved his lips somehow evoked a return smile, probably the first one that had come naturally to her since Samantha’s disappearance.
“You are so—” She caught herself. She’d been about to say, “Handsome.” It had nearly rolled right off her tongue, probably because it would’ve been an honest statement. She’d thought it several times during the day, but she knew better than to say it, especially now. It was the exhaustion. She was too tired to be careful.
He studied her openly, rubbing the beard growth on his chin. “What?”
Zoe felt herself flush. “Nice.” She averted her eyes, but she suspected they’d already said what she hadn’t.
He didn’t follow up with a comment. He signed the slip the clerk handed him and took a map of the complex.
“Stay here. I’ll grab the luggage,” he said and left.
When he came walking through the lobby doors with the bags, Zoe felt a renewed sense of chagrin at the admiration that must’ve been apparent on her face. What had she been thinking? She was attracted to this man!
And now she was pretty sure he knew it.
* * *
“How’d it go today?” Skye asked.
“Fine.” Jonathan could hear the shower running and tried not to think about Zoe standing naked beneath the spray. Considering the situation, he was an asshole to even imagine it, but hormones were hormones, and he couldn’t seem to curb the erotic images flowing through his brain.
That moment in the lobby when she’d started to say something and then stopped had created a sexual undercurrent that was hard to ignore. Although they’d probably been aware of each other all along, that awareness had definitely been very much in the background. Since arriving at the hotel, however, he’d felt a marked change.
“Fine?” Skye echoed, obviously surprised that he didn’t launch into an accounting of the day’s events. “Does Ely have Samantha or not?”
“No, Ely’s blissfully unaware of regular life. He’s been in rehab for the past month.”
“Blissfully? I doubt it. But at least he’s not in jail. Rehab’s a good alternative.”
“Except I was hoping he had Sam. Our other options aren’t nearly as attractive.”
“He can’t tell you anything? He hasn’t heard from her?”
“According to the woman who’s been getting his mail, he hasn’t received a letter from Sam in weeks.”
“So you didn’t meet with him?”
He adjusted the time on the room’s clock radio, which was wrong by more than four hours. “No. Zoe was afraid he’d drop out and go on a bender.”
“Well, she is the one who knows him.”
“I’m guessing her decision has more to do with her than him. She’s too fragile to deal with the issues between her and her father in addition to the current crisis.”
“You have to start looking at Sam’s biological father, Jon,” Skye said.
“I know.” He put the clock back. “I’m on it.”
“Have you found him?”
Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at the gold-colored carpet. “Not yet. But I’ve done some checking. I think he’s in San Diego.”
The shower went off and he pictured Zoe getting out and toweling herself dry. Then he rolled his eyes at his own response. What was wrong with him? He was in love with Sheridan, had been for years.
But he was tired of waiting for a woman he wasn’t going to get. And Zoe’s beauty and vulnerability drew him like a magnet.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to block out his growing attraction. “As soon as we get up in the morning, I’ll—”
“Who’s we?” she cut in.
“I’ve got Zoe here with me.”
The volume of Skye’s voice instantly switched to loud. “You’re not taking her
to find Franky Bates!”
“Of course not.”
“Good.” There was a short pause. “So what are you doing?”
Trying not to think of her in a sexual way. Trying to remind myself that she only wanted to share my hotel room because I seem like her safe, trustworthy helper. Trying to keep in mind that her saying I’m nice can’t be construed as an invitation…
Because even if it was an invitation, she wasn’t in any condition to be making that decision.
“I’m doing what I can while I’m here.”
Zoe came out of the bathroom and steam billowed out with her. Jonathan allowed himself a quick peek and saw a strip of golden skin above a pair of pink pajama bottoms that rode low on her hips, bare arms and shoulders and a hint of cleavage showing above a spaghetti-strap top. Her long hair was wrapped in a towel.
Sucking in a deep breath, he quickly shored up his restraint with one word that was pretty much a shortcut to all the rest: engaged. “I’d arrange a flight for her in the morning, but that would take more time than simply having her wait at the hotel while I pay a visit to Franky’s mother. We don’t have the luxury of wasting any time.”
He’d been talking to Skye, but Zoe turned to face him. “You’re not leaving me anywhere.”
He couldn’t answer without giving away her proximity. Fortunately, Skye was talking and hadn’t heard her. “You think Franky’s mother will tell you where to find him?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“She might be too protective.”
“I gotta start somewhere.”
Frowning at him, Zoe toweled off her hair, and the scent of shampoo reached his nostrils.
Eager to get off the phone before Zoe spoke up again, he said, “I’ve gotta go. I’m beat.”
But Skye wasn’t quite done. “Wait a sec. Where’s Zoe now? I’d like to talk to her.”
