“Like hell I will.” Dave stomped to the kitchen table and stuffed the glasses in his shirt pocket. He grabbed the Bible from the nightstand and swept the scattered pictures of Jen and Abby into the photo album.
Owen advanced and retreated, then advanced again, then threw up his hands. “You’re jeopardizing the case.”
“Jen needs me, not Greta.” Dave pushed Owen out the door and locked it. He set the GPS on his cell and zoomed down the driveway.
Chapter 22
Jen massaged her aching temples and sat on Greta’s white couch. After eating the delicious quiche with spinach and Gruyere cheese, Jen tried to relax and meditate on nothingness. It was no use. Questions swirled through her mind. Each one with Dave at the center.
The intercom phone rang and Greta picked it up.
“You can’t come up here.” Greta’s voice screeched. “Leave them at the lobby and I’ll pick them up.”
“Who is it?” Jen asked, half-hoping Dave had come after her.
Greta slammed the receiver. “Dave. He has your glasses.”
The phone rang again. Jen turned her face so Greta couldn’t see her smile.
Greta answered it. “If you don’t leave us alone, I’m calling the police.” She scowled and cupped the receiver. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jen took the receiver from Greta. “Dave? Owen says it’s better if I don’t speak to you. They might think we’re cooking up a story.”
“I know you didn’t do it,” Dave said. “Can you come down and talk to me?”
Her heart ached at hearing his voice. Wasn’t he angry at her for being the nanny? She deflected. “My ankle still hurts, and I’m not exactly presentable. My face is black and blue.”
He would no doubt drill her about the kidnapping.
“You look fine, I’m sure. Let’s have lunch or something.”
“I-I’m not hungry.” Jen had just eaten.
“Okay, then. I need you to do the final packaging and upload. Lester doesn’t know how to access the staging servers.”
“I could give him the password and talk him through it.”
“I’d rather you did it. I restored your login and access to the network. And Jen? I-I kind of miss you too.” His deep voice wavered and tugged the dusty corners of her heart, the unvisited places where she had tucked her need to be wanted.
“Okay. You have to promise Greta she won’t lose her hundred thou.” She handed the receiver to Greta. “Please let him come up. I need to go back to work for a bit.”
Greta pressed the button to allow him up the elevator and hung up the phone. “I can’t believe he wants you to work at a time like this.”
Jen rubbed lotion on her hands and picked up her purse. “I owe it to the company.”
A sharp rap sounded on the door a few minutes later. Greta patted her auburn hair and opened the door.
Dave stepped in with both hands in his jacket pocket. She couldn’t see him clearly, but the room seemed brighter. He handed her the glasses. “I’ll grab your crutches. How’s the ankle?”
“Wait a minute,” Greta said. “I’m the one who bailed her out. I don’t want to lose my money.”
“Small potatoes for the damages you hope to collect with your sexual harassment lawsuit.”
“What?” Jen’s breath caught. She looked from Dave to Greta and back again.
Dave tipped his face at Greta. “Go ahead. Tell her how you’re using her.”
Greta crossed her arms. “You’re the one who’s taking advantage of her.”
“She, at least, still has a job.” Dave touched Jen’s arm lightly. “Let’s go.”
“Not so fast.” Greta stepped in front of him. “I’m responsible for her.”
“Dave’s not bothering me,” Jen said. “We’re only going to work.”
Greta straightened the collar on Jen’s blouse. “When will you be back?”
“Don’t worry.” Dave handed Jen the crutches. “I’ll bring her back before she turns into a pumpkin.”
Greta huffed and slammed the door after them. Jen hobbled with Dave to the elevator. Her heart fluttered once the doors closed. Would he light into her for being the nanny? Interrogate her now that he had her?
He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Once we get to the office, act like nothing happened. Everyone’s going to be curious about your arrest. I’ll run interference. You go into my office and work on the build.”
“Sure, sounds good.” Jen stared at his oil-tanned boots.
They exited the elevator and walked into the parking garage. He stopped at a car. “Sorry, it’s another Camry. White.”
“Doesn’t bother me.” Jen got in. “I didn’t steal your car.”
He touched her chin and turned her face to look at him. “I know you didn’t. But there’s a witness who says you did.”
Blood drained from her head. “Who? Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Someone’s trying to frame us. I know I didn’t do it. You did go straight to work that night, right?”
Jen’s lips trembled. “Yes, but who’d hate us so much?”
“Maybe the same people who bother me about the kidnapping every year. Somehow they found out you were the nanny and they’re using you to… to… ruin my company or drive me psycho.”
The nanny. Here it came. Jen braced herself. “I should have told you who I was. Do you hate me now?”
Dave put the key in the ignition and rubbed his jaw. “All these years I hated the nanny. But it wasn’t you I hated.”
He took her hand. “Do you understand?”
Tears rimmed Jen’s eyes. “I’d hate myself too, if it happened to me.”
Dave opened her palm and rolled his thumb in the center. “You loved Abby. It’s not like you let the kidnappers in.”
Jen gulped. If he knew, he wouldn’t be so forgiving. “It was still my fault. I should have done a better job.”
He let go her hand and patted her shoulder. “Let’s not worry about it now. The first priority is the Black Friday build. It’s what we’ve all been working for.”
Jen looked out the window. A man sat in a black car across from them. A chill tickled her scalp. “Can we drive? It’s getting stuffy in here.”
“Sure.” He switched on the ignition.
Jen looked back as they wound their way through the parking garage. Sure enough, the black car started and came after them.
“I think we’re being followed,” she said.
“Damn reporters. I’ll lose him.” Dave paid the ticket with his credit card and glanced at the rear view mirror.
The car had stopped, idling near the elevator as if waiting for someone, but as soon as Dave pulled out of the driveway, it went toward the tollgate.
Dave negotiated around the one-way streets, cut in front of a bus, hung a quick right, and zoomed onto Guadalupe Parkway. “Is he still behind us?”
“Not sure. There are so many black cars.” She kept looking back, her heart in her throat. A car honked when Dave swerved into the exit at the last minute.
“Ha, ha!” Dave exclaimed. “I bet we lost him.”
A few turns more and they were at the office. Smiling faces greeted Jen and crowded around her.
“We were so worried about you.”
“What happened to you?”
“Mr. Jewell rescued you. It’s all on the news.”
“How’d you get out of jail?”
“We’re running out of space on the build servers.”
Dave stopped in front of his office. “How’s the build? Any open issues?”
Satish stepped forward. “Everything is good to go, except auto-update.”
“Does it still wedge the servers?”
“Yes, we can’t figure it out.” Satish replied.
“It’s not important for the trial,” Dave said. “Email me the link to the latest test results. Lisa, go to AT&T before it closes and pick up a new cell phone for Jen.”
He pointed to a lapt
op sitting on his desk. “Got you a new one.”
Jen sat in the chair offered. Praveena brought Jen a soda, and Lester and Satish hovered in the corner of the office.
Dave scrolled through the test results, his face brightening. “This build is good to go. Jen’s going to label and package it now.”
Cheers rang out across the office.
“Good work.” Dave pumped his fist. “Everyone gets to go home for Thanksgiving.”
The engineers’ faces fell, and they slouched and shuffled, looking disappointed.
Dave glanced at Lisa. “Isn’t this good news?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? The darlings haven’t had time to buy turkeys or make trips back home. They were looking forward to having a catered meal here.”
“In that case,” Dave said, “we’ll have Thanksgiving dinner here, as planned.”
Jen turned to her laptop to label the build. The auto-update problem bothered her. What if it were triggered accidentally? She brought up the source file and commented it out, just to be on the safe side. A few keystrokes later, she fired the script to label the good source and generate the Black Friday build.
Lester looked over her shoulder. She smiled at his red eyes and haggard look. “You can go. Thanks for covering for me.”
She computed the checksums and electronically fingerprinted the files. One last thing. She hit send.
“Hey, you finished?” Dave looked over from his email.
“Almost.” She stared at the progress bar. Almost home, baby!
Dave waved to the engineers. “Time to go home. Thank you for your hard work. Come back tomorrow for turkey.”
They filed out, grinning and fist-bumping each other. Cars pulled out of the parking lot. The slanted rays of the evening sun descended. Dave closed the blinds and pulled his chair closer to her.
“You did it.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek as she finished changing the password to the encrypted vault. Everything was ready.
His gaze locked onto her and her pulse quickened. Jen swallowed, unsure of his intentions. Heat emanated from his body, and his alluring scent drew her closer.
Dave touched her face lightly, then twirled her hair around his fingers. “Let me know if I’m harassing you.”
“You’re not.” Jen could barely breathe. His lips hovered just above hers.
“Because I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.” He caressed her jaw.
“But you were so angry earlier.”
He backed away. The corners of his lips turned down. “I’m upset over the situation. Not at you.”
Jen wiped her palms over her jeans. Should she tell him her suspicions? Or would it only incriminate her further? The police had checked her tip and dismissed it. She should leave it alone.
Dave’s desk phone rang and he picked it up. “What do you mean you want pre-IPO stock? You have to prove the girl in the photo is my daughter.”
His face contorted with a growing agitation. “I don’t believe you. Give me DNA first and then we’ll talk.”
The line must have gone dead because he slammed the receiver in the cradle.
“Another message from the kidnappers?” She limped toward him.
An explosion shattered the windows and knocked Jen off balance. Dave pushed her to the ground. Her head hit a piece of furniture, and her ears buzzed. The acrid smell of gunpowder choked her throat.
* * *
Dave crouched over Jen and held her down. A trickle of blood flowed from the side of her head where it hit the file cabinet handle. She looked at him, shuddering and dazed, but still conscious. Thank God all the other employees had left the building.
The desk phone rang and went to the answering system.
“You’ve been warned,” a computer-altered voice said. “You deny me again, and next time it’ll be your girlfriend.”
Jen gaped wide-eyed behind her glasses. Her teeth chattered, and she clung to his shoulders like a novice rock-climber. “Why is this happening? I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”
“We’re going to be together a long time.” He stroked her hair while making soothing sounds to calm her.
What was he promising? His heart had died when Jocelyn died, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He’d dismissed the threats. Their parting words, an argument. “You’re always on an airplane,” Jocelyn had said. “Don’t you care about the stalker?”
His last words. “I can’t sit around holding your hand. You have Jennifer. Bye.” And then the phone call he’d never forget from the police chief telling him Jocelyn had been killed.
“I want...” She snuffled in his neck. “There’s still so much I want to do.”
Dave kissed her. “And I want you to do all those things with me. I do.”
She sobbed as if he had stabbed her heart and twisted the knife. He hugged her tighter, weaving his fingers in her hair and rocking her.
Sirens sounded and footsteps pounded toward them.
* * *
Jen shuddered while waves of nausea contorted her stomach and pain ate her gut. What she had done to him was beyond repair. She had caused all the calamities in his life—caused him to lose both his wife and daughter, caused him untold hours of grief and despair. If she hadn’t been late, Jocelyn wouldn’t have parked so far, and…
Sirens walloped outside and hurried footsteps approached. Jen flailed to get out of Dave’s embrace. He ran to the door and called to the rescuers.
Jen huddled in the corner of the office, the slow churn of her belly colliding with her heart’s frantic palpitations. She touched her temple, and blood smeared her fingers.
She should have died in the explosion. What a thief she had been to get close to Dave, to think she could steal his affection and pilfer his concern. She had to get away from him, away from the crushing guilt, the voices of reproach. How can you live with yourself? Let the sun shine on your face while Jocelyn’s in the dirt? How can you enjoy Dave’s kisses and his hugs when Abby is lost forever, either dead or abused? Cold, and hungry, or God forbid, sold to child traffickers.
She could not face herself, face him, face God. It wasn’t just a matter of sleeping through the kidnapping. She should have been more suspicious and careful. She shouldn’t have let Rodrigo into the house. And she definitely shouldn’t have let him take her virginity.
Six years had not dimmed the awful, sinking feeling that she had been used. After he returned from the Philippines he had cut her off because she asked him if he took Abby. She had even called in an anonymous tip, and the police had searched his trailer but found no evidence. And for that, he hated her and never spoke to her again. Duped, deflowered, and dumped.
The paramedics placed her on a stretcher. They questioned her about the head wound. Lights flashed in her eyes. Her ears rung, and she couldn’t catch her breath, much less speak coherently to the police. She dimly remembered Dave playing the message to the police. And it scared her. The kidnappers had not done this right. An explosion brought police attention. Now they’d be even more dangerous.
Chapter 23
Dave called Greta from the ambulance. “There’s been an explosion. Jen is okay, but I’m taking custody of her.”
“Are you crazy?” Greta asked. “Seems like she’d be safer with me.”
“I’ll transfer one hundred thousand to you.” Claire would lend it to him, he was sure.
“You really are nuts. You’re making it easy for me to win that lawsuit.”
“Jen’s more important than your lawsuit. Someone is extorting me and threatening to kill her. If we’re separated, she’d be in danger.”
“Really? You’re too old to be playing cowboy with the big hat. Leave this to the professionals. But I’m still going with her to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow at her sister’s foster parents’ house.”
“Sure, that’s fine. She ought to be safe there.” Dave ended the call.
Dave opened his briefcase and took out the photo album. Jennifer’s chubby face smiled at him,
her arm around Jocelyn. Photos of Abby and Jennifer cluttered the album. He’d never looked at Jennifer closely. But now that he truly saw her, his heart swelled with an exhilarating and dangerous flood. He shoved the photos back, his hands shaking. Tempting emotions crested over the seawall of his exile, licking at his bruised and broken heart. It was so close he could almost touch it. But Abby was still missing, and Jen had been responsible.
* * *
Dave paced in the waiting room. The doctors said Jen had suffered a concussion and they would hold her overnight for observation. When they carted her off the ambulance, she’d been screaming, “Kill me and give Abby back to him.”
One of the doctors said fifty-one-fifty, which was code for suicide watch. Dave pulled the album from his briefcase. Letters from Jennifer to Jocelyn were tucked in between every page. He shouldn’t pry, but he had to know everything about her. Perhaps there’d be a clue, an event, or a mutual friend. Dave didn’t know much about Jocelyn before their whirlwind romance. Her family hadn’t welcomed him, almost as if he intruded into a secret society and missed all the handshakes and gestures. As far as they were concerned, he’d stolen their daughter the day he knocked on their door, gave her the Gospel, and asked her to go church with him.
Dave slouched in the sofa and fell asleep hugging his laptop bag.
He woke the next morning, stiff and sore. Two doctors shuffled to the vending machine with their surgical booties and gowns partially tied. They grumbled about the dried turkey sandwiches.
Dave’s phone buzzed. It was Phil Marshall, his lawyer.
“You failed to show up at the courthouse yesterday. I don’t have to warn you again. You’re ruining your case. They’re already calling you and Jen the Bonnie and Clyde hit-and-run murderers.”
“So what else is new?” Frustration pulsed from his aching head. “The kidnappers have turned violent. Your theory about them being amateur extortionists with Facebook photos was wrong.”
“Actually, they did get the photos off Facebook,” Phil replied. “I created an account for Rey Custodio and surprisingly enough, the two idiots who kidnapped Jen friended it. They’re linked to Patty Brown, and the photos come from her album.”
Broken Build: Silicon Valley Romantic Suspense Page 18
