by Hope White
“Smart guy, huh?” He leaned close. “It’s time you gave up your crusade.”
Scott couldn’t give the guy what he wanted, but at least he knew he’d been up in the mountains taking water samples for some mysterious reason.
“Maybe if I knock you around, that brain of yours will get back on track.” The guy swung the gun at Scott’s head.
NINE
Bree jerked away from the door, the hair bristling on the back of her neck.
Scott was in trouble, big-time.
She took off for the security office, hoping to find Harvey, or even her brother. Aiden would probably brush her off, saying she was too sensitive and a man yelling at her to go away wasn’t cause for alarm.
But it was. Bree had seen a staff member roll a food cart into Scott’s room, so when she knocked on the door only moments later and he claimed he wasn’t decent, she knew something was wrong.
Then he yelled at her.
A small part of her brain argued that he’d had enough of Bree, but she shoved that thought aside and focused on helping him.
She rounded the corner at a fast clip and nearly collided with a tall man in a suit walking beside her brother.
“Where’s the officer watching Scott?” she asked Aiden.
“This is Officer Willet. I asked them to nix the uniforms so their presence wouldn’t alarm guests.”
She looked at Officer Willet with pleading eyes. “Scott’s in trouble.”
“Isn’t Officer Jones guarding his room?”
“No. Come on.”
The three of them approached Scott’s door and the cop motioned for Bree and Aiden to stand aside.
“Why do you think he’s in trouble?” Officer Willet asked.
“I just know.”
The cop pounded on the door. “Scott, it’s Officer Willet. I need to go over a few things with you. Please open the door.”
The cop waited. Bree interlaced her fingers together and squeezed.
“Why do you think he’s in trouble?” Aiden pressed.
“Because he yelled at me,” she admitted.
“Bree,” Aiden said in that shaming tone.
She stared directly into his sky-blue eyes. “I know he’s in trouble the same way you knew I was in trouble back in Seattle, so don’t mess with me.”
A crash echoed from the room, then something slammed against the door.
“Key.” The plainclothes cop stuck out his hand.
Aiden handed him a master key, and shifted Bree out of harm’s way.
“Stay back,” Officer Willet said.
The cop withdrew his firearm, swiped the key card and tried opening the door, but something was blocking it. The cop pushed harder and the door swung open. Officer Willet bolted into the room.
“Patio,” Scott’s voice gasped.
Bree slipped inside before the door closed. The officer rushed out the sliding doors to the patio, and Aiden followed close behind, but didn’t go outside. He stood at the glass door barking orders into his radio.
“Bree?”
She glanced down to her left. Scott was sitting against the wall, clutching his rib cage.
“What happened?” She kneeled beside him and searched his eyes.
“You got help?” he said. “After I yelled at you?”
“I knew you didn’t mean it.”
He tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. “Thank you.”
“Where are you hurt?” she said.
“What happened in here?” Aiden said, sliding the glass doors shut and glancing around the disheveled room.
“They sent a guy in a room service uniform to get information out of me,” Scott said.
“What kind of information?” Aiden stepped closer.
“Back off, big brother. Let’s get him some ice for his ribs,” Bree said.
Her brother was wearing that determined look, that I’m not going to let anyone hurt my baby sister look.
“It’s okay,” Scott said, and slowly got up. Bree helped him across the room to sit at the table. “He asked me where I stashed the water samples.”
“What water samples?” Aiden asked.
“Have no idea, but at least I have more information than I did yesterday. I found out who I work for, and apparently I have water samples worth killing for. I’ll spend the afternoon looking into it. I’ve got a laptop around here somewhere.”
“I can help,” Bree said.
“Don’t you have to finish putting up Christmas decorations on the south end of the property?” Aiden questioned.
“It’s my official day off.”
“Bree—”
“The sooner I help Scott figure this out the sooner he’ll be gone. That’s what you want, right?” she challenged.
“Mr. McBride, this is Justin in Facilities, over,” a voice squawked through Aiden’s radio.
“Go ahead, Justin.” Aiden spoke into his radio, but didn’t take his eyes off Bree.
“We’ve got a problem in the D wing, sir. I think you’d better come.”
“On my way.” Aiden sighed. “Be careful,” he said to Bree.
“I will.”
He pointed his radio at Scott. “And no more room service.”
“He has to eat,” Bree protested.
“I’ll send something down for lunch and dinner, but don’t answer unless they say it’s from me, got it?” Aiden said.
“Okay,” Bree said.
Aiden reached for the door.
“Hey, Aiden?” Scott said.
Aiden turned.
“Thanks,” Scott said.
With a curt nod, Aiden left.
Scott looked at Bree. “I think he’s starting to like me.”
“Uh-huh, he’ll probably invite you to Christmas dinner,” she said teasingly.
“I make a mean cranberry sauce.”
“I’ll bet.” She examined a cut on his cheek.
“How does it look, doc?”
“We should wash it out. You want ice for the ribs?”
“Probably a good idea.”
“I’ll have the concierge send it over.”
“I need to find my laptop.” He glanced around the room, as if trying to remember where he’d stashed it.
His curious expression grew frustrated.
“Check the closet,” she suggested. “I’ll call for the ice.”
She called Nia at the concierge desk and ordered ice. Scott searched the closet slowly, as if he didn’t recognize his own clothes. He had at least five shirts hanging in the closet, so he’d planned on being here nearly a week.
If he was collecting water samples that could be from the bigger lakes, like Lake Stevens or smaller lakes hidden in the mountains. What she couldn’t figure out was why he needed water samples in the first place.
“Are you working for the EPA?” she asked.
He shut the closet door and turned to her. “What?”
“Is that why you need water samples?”
“I don’t know.” He opened the top drawer on the dresser and moved clothes around. “Here it is.”
Laptop in hand, he shifted into a chair at the table and winced.
“I’ve got pain relievers in my purse,” she said, joining him at the table.
“No, I’m good.”
“You don’t look good.”
He glanced up. “Gee, thanks.”
“I meant, you look like you’re hurting.” She certainly didn’t mean it the other way, although the truth was she found Scott incredibly handsome. Heat flushed her cheeks in an unwelcome blush.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She stood and went to the ba
throom. “I’m getting a washcloth to clean out your cut.”
“Okay, but then I have a job for you.”
A job other than nursing him back to health and helping him get his life back? Sure, she would nurse the wounded bird so that he’d be strong enough to fly away. That’s what she was doing, right? It’s not as though she could have any kind of relationship with this man once he got his memory and his life back.
She ran a white washcloth under warm water and studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was a shame that they’d met under such dire circumstances because she felt a true connection to Scott, an honest connection.
Then again, maybe that was due to his vulnerability. She knew that some confident men—men like Thomas—pushed and shoved until they had you cornered and helpless, willing to do whatever they wanted. Even her brother tended to be bossy and overbearing although she understood he was motivated by brotherly love.
At any rate, she’d appreciate whatever time she had with Scott, helping him resolve his situation and get his life back. She wrung out the washcloth and went into the room. Scott intently studied something on his laptop.
“What’d you find?” she asked, shifting a chair close to him.
She pressed the washcloth against his facial cut. He closed his eyes and she snapped her hand back. “Sorry, does that hurt?”
“No, it feels good.”
She continued to clean the wound. It was a small cut, but the skin around it was red and angry. “How’s the arm?”
“It’s fine.”
She dabbed at his cheek for a few seconds, then sat back in the chair. “I think you’re good.”
“Am I?” he asked, searching her eyes.
It seemed as though he was going to kiss her.
“Scott, I...”
He pressed his forefinger to her lips. “I need to say something, and I’ve probably said it before, but it’s worth repeating.” He hesitated. “Breanna, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. I needed you to know that.”
“I’m glad I could be here for you.”
And I’m starting to care about you, a lot.
She couldn’t say the words, words that seemed trite considering they’d known each other only a few days.
“I wish...” he started.
“What?”
He took the washcloth out of her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. A shiver of warmth crept down her spine. She loved the feel of his lips pressed against her knuckles. It was such a delicate, tender touch.
“When this is all over,” he said, “maybe we could catch a movie or something?” He looked up, hopeful.
“Even a romantic comedy?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.”
Someone knocked on the sliding door. “It’s Officer Willet,” the muffled voice said.
Scott opened the door and let him in.
“He’s gone,” the cop said. “I’ll call it in to the chief. He wanted to be kept in the loop. What’d the guy look like?”
“Older guy, salt-and-pepper hair. Called himself Rich, but said that wasn’t his real name.” Scott walked him to the door.
“That sounds like the man I saw at the hospital,” Bree said.
“Apparently the assailant had a partner who lured Officer Jones away from his post,” Officer Willet said.
“Is Officer Jones okay?” Bree asked.
“He’s fine.” Officer Willet turned to Scott. “Keep the slider and this door locked and secure.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott closed the door and double-locked it, then joined Bree at the table. “I shouldn’t have let Rich get away.”
“You were working at a slight disadvantage.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Let’s focus on what we can do.” She glanced at the laptop. “You were about to come up with a plan?”
“I got the name of my employer from Emily. I should call and find out what I was working on. Maybe they sent me out here. But it feels strange to call about myself.”
“I can call,” Bree offered. “What do you want me to say?”
“Ask for me, see if you can find out where I am and when I’m supposed to return.”
“Don’t you want to speak with your boss and ask him directly?”
His brows furrowed as if he was remembering something. “It’s not a good idea. I’m not sure why.”
She picked up the phone. “What’s the number?”
He handed her the resort notepad with a number on it. That’s when she noticed the Bible sitting out on the nightstand. That was certainly a good sign.
She made the call and when the receptionist picked up she asked for Scott Becket’s extension. A few rings later a woman answered. “Security.”
“Hi, I’m looking for Scott Becket.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Breanna McBride.”
“Hold on.”
Bree put her hand over the mouthpiece. “She’s acting like you’re there and she’s going to put me through.”
“This is Sue Percy,” a woman said. “Scott is out of the office for a few weeks. Can I help you?”
“No, thanks, I’m a friend and wanted to catch up.”
“When was the last time you spoke with Scott?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Hang on.” A few seconds passed and Bree thought she heard a door shut in the background. Sue came back on the line. “We’ve been worried about him. He disappeared two weeks ago and hasn’t called in.”
“Oh, that’s odd.”
“I know he had vacation time coming, but to leave so suddenly was strange, and then some money went missing from petty cash.”
“How much money?”
There was a long pause, then, “I need to go. Goodbye.”
The line went dead. “O-kay.”
“Why did you ask about money?” Scott said.
“The woman said you stopped coming into work about the same time petty cash went missing.”
“What?” Scott stood and paced the room. “That’s ridiculous. How much?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Why would I steal from my employer?”
“Don’t assume you did.”
“But she said—”
“It didn’t sound like she thought you stole the money. It sounded like she was touting the company line.”
“You got that from one phone call?” he asked.
“I’ve got good instincts.”
* * *
Scott iced his ribs and was going through his laptop for clues when the forensic artist showed up. Scott and Bree worked with the artist on a sketch of the man who’d tried forcing Breanna into his car yesterday. By the time the artist was done, Scott felt as though he’d drawn a good likeness of the guy.
“That’s pretty good,” Scott said.
The forensic artist looked at Bree for confirmation.
“Yes, that looks like him.”
The man who’d almost abducted Bree.
Scott balled his hand into a fist and tapped it against his thigh. Bree escorted the artist to the door and thanked him for his service.
Scott wanted answers. He wanted this whole thing over so he could be sure Bree was safe from harm, because by now it was clear she was in this for the long haul and nothing would dissuade her from staying close.
Which was even more motivation for Scott to remember what had brought him here.
He clicked through files on his computer, looking for anything that seemed even remotely related to water, but found nothing. He opened a file titled Lake Trip 2013 and thumbnail photos popped up on the screen. He clicked one open:
it was a shot of Scott with his arm around an attractive redhead in a bathing suit. Christa. Right, his...girlfriend?
“What’d you find?” Bree said, approaching him.
“Nothing important. Vacation pictures.” He clicked the picture closed. “There’s got to be something on here that can help us.”
He clicked open his email account and scanned through his sent folder. “Check this out, an email dated three weeks ago scheduling time off.”
As Bree read the email over his shoulder, he inhaled her floral scent. He loved the way she smelled, the way she absently placed her hand on his shoulder as she peered at the screen.
“Open that one,” she said, and pointed.
He clicked open an email from the human resources manager approving his time off.
“Okay, so if they approved it, why did Sue Percy say you mysteriously disappeared?”
“I can’t trust anyone at work,” he said.
“Maybe not, but you could retrace your steps.”
She let her hand slip off his shoulder and sat next to him at the table. “Let’s figure out where you went from the time you arrived in town until we rescued you.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“It’s a small town. Trust me, if someone spotted a handsome stranger like you, they’d make a mental note. Plus, when we get your wallet back from Chief Washburn we can go online and check your credit card activity.”
“If he gives it back.”
“It’s not evidence unless a crime’s been committed, right?”
“It’s called fraud.”
She leaned back in her chair and sighed.
He hated that she looked so frustrated. Then a thought struck him. “Hang on, you’re on the right track,” he said. “How about we start here, at the resort? This place has video surveillance. I noticed it last night. Let’s ask Harvey if we can see video from the day I checked in.”
“What are you thinking?”
“We’ll start at the beginning and build a time line. In the meantime, you can reach out to folks in the community and see if they spotted me and if so, what I was doing.”
“Sounds good. I’ll start with Mom’s book group. They meet every other week. They’re pretty tuned into what’s happening in town. First I’ll call Harvey.”
She stood and went to dig her phone out of her purse.
