“Why, what was it about?”
“A ghostly car dressed in blood with a wig made from the long, black hair of his beloved hanging off the hood ornament.”
A chill of terror slashed down Jen’s spine. “H-hanging off the… the hood?”
“Yes, it’s creepy, isn’t it? Tell Christy if she doesn’t show, she’ll be doing Saturday detention for a month.”
Jen agreed and hung up. Where had Christy gotten the poem that sounded suspiciously like Rey’s death? Unless, Sammy told her? Oh my God. What if she’s with him right now?
She texted Christy, Where are you? Mrs. Sanders called.
Her phone dinged with a received text, I’m safe, Christy.
Safe? Jen didn’t ask her whether she was safe or not. Something was awfully wrong. Jen pushed redial, but her call went to voicemail immediately. She called the Walkers. No answer. She’d have to go over there.
Fifteen minutes later, Jen gaped at the crime scene tape surrounding the Walker’s stucco house.
Chapter 35
Dave called Claire’s cell, but she didn’t answer. He had to talk to her. This was an emergency. Even though she had told him never to call her home, he dialed it anyway. Her answering service picked up. He explained who he was and that it had to do with her investment. A series of beeps whirled as the operator transferred the call.
“Mrs. Tyler will be on shortly,” the chirpy female voice announced.
Dave tapped his desktop with his fingertips.
“Darling?” She yawned.
He told her about the ransom demand, barely able to finish one sentence before staring another.
“I’ve got everything you need. Steve has a briefcase full of Ben Franklins for situations like this. Give me forty-five minutes, and I’ll meet you at your place. Be careful when you get to your driveway. The body shop returned all three cars. I have the keys.”
The air escaped Dave’s lungs with a rush. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Anything for you, dear heart.” She squeaked a kiss over the line and hung up.
Dave locked his office door and left a message for Lisa. Where the hell was she? She hadn’t called in sick. No time to worry about it.
Marty collared him as he rushed to the men’s room. “We have requests for people to automatically raise bids as inventory drops. Merchants also want the ability to compete for a purchase by offering a time-limited discount by text message. And the Shopaholic referral program worked so well, particularly in India—”
“Later.” Dave waved his hand. “I have to go somewhere.”
“The auto-raise is a must have,” Marty followed him. “When do you think we can update the code?”
“Depends on when we get auto-update fixed. I’ll notify engineering.”
“Great. This is going to be big, Dave. Big.”
Dave forced a smile. He texted Praveena to lead a meeting on the new feature requests. Then he sent a message to Bob, the test manager, about the auto-update issue. To his surprise, a reply came immediately. Auto-update is working as expected. Someone must have fixed it before we posted. I tested it this morning and the logs say it completed without error.
At least one thing went right.
* * *
Dave drove carefully around the newly repaired cars on his driveway. He needed Claire, but he had to cut it off, tell her he was serious about Jen. Before or after she handed him the money?
The Golden Rule. Do unto others… But would she still give him the money? He couldn’t endanger his daughter. But then, would God bless him if he continued in this deception?
He pulled out his iPhone to check his email. First message was from his lawyer telling him Craig Pearson had gone public accusing him of stealing the code to the competitive bidding algorithm. A slew of Sherry M messages popped up calling him slut, whore, code thief, pirate. Rey’s friends were behind bars and the messages continued. He rubbed his eyes. Oh, God. Is this happening to me because I’ve disobeyed your commandments?
Confession first, followed by repentance, then forgiveness. He flipped his Bible to Psalm 51. King David’s words resonated in his heart.
Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.
Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.
Dave bowed his head and asked God to forgive him.
The doorbell rang with nagging insistence. He shut the Bible and took a deep breath. He’d have to come clean with Claire.
“Dave, are you in there?” Claire’s voice sounded from the door. Dave opened it.
“Darling!” Claire kissed him. “The briefcases are in my car. Steve totally understood and agrees to this. Lystra has quite an investment in Shopahol, in addition to our personal investments.”
“I can’t take the money.”
Claire’s eyes opened wide. “It’s insurance. The kidnappers might only be harassing you. You don’t think they actually have your daughter, do you? Dave, are you all right? You look sick.”
He slouched on the sofa. “I have to apologize to you. I’ve been using you.”
“Using me? In what way?” She sat next to him and rubbed his shoulders.
Dave wrung his hands. “The dates, fooling around…”
She put her hand on his forehead and blinked. “What’s going on?”
“I like you, but I’m not in love with you.” Dave heaved his shoulders and rubbed both sides of his face.
“I see.” She pushed away from him and rearranged the chess pieces on the coffee table. “You’re ever so much fun, and so handsome, but I wasn’t looking for undying devotion or a marriage proposal.”
He slumped over his knees. “I’m so sorry. I want to propose to someone, but I don’t know if she’ll have me.”
“Why wouldn’t she? Who is it? The employee who saved the company? Jen or something?”
Dave straightened and looked at Claire. “She knows about you and Melissa.”
She patted his arm. “You leave it to Claire. I’ll call her and explain.”
“No, don’t!” He felt a flood of relief that Claire was so reasonable, but dreaded her explanation to Jen. What would she say? Your boyfriend’s a whore, but don’t worry, he really cares about you because you’re poor.
Claire stood. “She’ll come around. Let’s get the money. I have to be at a fundraiser for the creative casserole contest at my church.”
He grabbed his keys. “Are you sure? I don’t think it’s right to take your money.”
“Consider it a loan, darling. Besides, your daughter is more important, right?”
He walked with her to the door. “Of course, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You can start by being happy again. You’ve been so lonely. Of course, if you’re marrying, you can’t be dallying with old flames like me.”
“I’m sorry. We can still be friends?”
“Sure can.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him. “Come to the car with me and load the briefcases into your SUV. You never know when they’ll want the drop.”
* * *
After bidding Claire farewell, Dave called the DNA lab and offered them five thousand dollars to expedite the results. They promised to start the analysis immediately but could not guarantee anything, because the test procedure was complicated and there were mixed samples on the brush Jen gave him.
Rey Custodio’s black cell phone rang. A shiver trickled down Dave’s spine. He turned on the audio recorder of his laptop and answered by speaker.
“Where’s the memory stick?” a female voice said.
“I’m afraid you have the wrong number,” Dave answered.
There was a slight pause. “So, she left you holding the bag. Very well, lamb-punch, ask her to leave the red memory stick in the bus locker, or the next time you see your daughter will be in a body bag.”
“What’s your problem? You keep changin
g your demands. First you want company stock, then a build and source code, now you want money. Forget the memory stick, okay? She can’t find it, and she doesn’t know what’s on it.”
“You’re being punked, dumb-buns.” The voice smacked her lips as if chewing and blowing bubblegum. “The other guys know nothing. They’re reading the gossip blogs and have you chasing your tail. I know what really went down. And since you’re offering money, be prepared. The next time you hear from me, you’ll also hear your daughter cry.”
She hung up. Dave clicked to end the audio recording. Her voice. Where had he heard it before? Belligerent with a chip on her shoulder, either a slight hint of a southern accent or phony.
His pulse sloshed through his ears. Had he been right to play with the caller? Perhaps Phil was right. No one had Abby, and everyone was punking him.
He called Jen. “Hey, what did you find out?”
“Something horrible’s happened.” Her voice tore through the speaker. “The Walkers’ house is a crime scene and the neighbors said Mr. and Mrs. Walker are in the hospital with concussions. Christy’s room was ransacked, but she’s not there. And she won’t pick up her cell. She only texts me that she’s okay.”
“Crap, that’s not good. Did you call the police?”
“Yes, I did. They’re putting out an all-points search for her. And I called Sammy’s parents. They searched his room and found his browser on a map to Reno.”
“Reno? You think they’re going to get hitched?”
“I don’t know. I’m so scared.” Jen’s voice trailed off. “I’ll die if something happens to her.”
A flood of concern surged through Dave. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. “You’re not going to die. Where are you? I’ll take you to Reno to find her.”
“I’m so scared. She’s with Sammy, Snakehead’s brother.”
“Baby, I’ll be with you every step. Meet you at the rental return, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice sounded small, like a timid girl.
“Jen? We’ll find her. I promise.”
Twenty minutes later, Dave parked at the rental return. Jen shoved the Victoria’s Secret bag at him with no comment and piled her laptop and backpack in the back of his SUV. She showed him the copy of the birth certificate.
“Patricia Brown?” he said. “That’s Alex’s mother. But how can that be?”
“Don’t you get it?” Jen seemed agitated. “Emily is with Vera, so the girl with Patty Brown is someone else. Maybe she’s Abby!”
His emotions jumped at the possibility, but he couldn’t give way to false hope. He had to focus.
“Maybe, but Phil checked it out,” he said. “Her name is Carla Brown, but they call her Cookie. Patricia Brown is a common name.”
He’d call her later. Big Brothers were encouraged to discuss any concerns they had with their Little Brother’s parents, and Alex teasing his sister about being adopted was a suitable subject to discuss. This time, he’d demand a face-to-face meeting. Being too busy with work was not an excuse to neglect her child’s welfare.
Jen tapped his shoulder. “I saw them at my apartment. Patty Brown and the little girl—she’s the girl in the pictures the kidnappers sent you.”
“That just shows they were in cahoots with the quote-unquote kidnappers to extort me for the code. Let’s wait for the DNA. Go ahead and return your rental. I’ll wait here.”
After she handed the keys to the attendant, he opened the passenger door and kissed her cheek. “Ready?”
“Everything’s too confusing,” Jen slumped in the bucket seat. “There are too many kidnappers, too many hairbrushes, too many prepaid phones and text messages. By the way, did you take Rey’s phone?”
Dave handed it to her. “I just received a call. The crazy bitch still wants the memory stick. No luck finding it?”
Jen stared at it. “I think Christy has it. The Walkers were robbed, and their house ransacked but nothing was taken. And Mrs. Sanders, Christy’s English teacher, called saying Christy plagiarized a poem about a ghost car covered in blood with the black hair of his beloved stuck on the hood.”
Dave jerked the wheel, almost merging into a blaring semi. “A car? What color?”
“A ghost. Wouldn’t it be white?”
“You think it’s the car that killed Rey? His beloved? Was Rey killed by his lover?”
Jen shook her head. “Rey had a prom picture with a girl.”
“Doesn’t mean anything. He might have been confused or maybe he’s bisexual. So which one of the thugs do you think it is?”
“But Snakehead wanted to rape me. Why?”
“To punish you for Rey wanting to marry you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. You must have cared for Rey.”
“Not really. I want to be truthful with you. It was Rodrigo who broke my heart.” She plucked a pink note from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “Here, read.”
“I’m driving. Read it to me.”
“I can’t.” Her shoulders twitched, and she turned toward the door.
Dave steadied himself behind a line of cars and flipped the note onto the steering wheel. His vision blurred, and he blinked to keep himself in the lane. He wanted to know whose baby Rod referred to. Was it Abby? Or another baby? He glanced at her. She looked distraught. He wouldn’t pressure her to speak. He kept driving.
Chapter 36
Jen peeked at Dave and sucked the insides of her cheeks. He was too quiet. His mouth was pressed tight, and his knuckles jutted white from the steering wheel. Full disclosure. No more covering up her shame. No more running and hiding. He had probably guessed by now. She steadied her breathing and gripped the armrests.
“Rod got me pregnant.”
He exhaled harshly through his nostrils as if the thought disgusted him. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
“We have hundreds of miles. I don’t ever want to hide anything from you again.”
“Go ahead.” The look he gave her was part sympathetic and part resigned.
“He gave me a ring, told me he wanted to marry me after he returned from seeing his grandmother… And then I lost the baby and tried to commit suicide. My uncle José put me in a hospital.”
His breath hissed through his teeth. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I was so ashamed. Not even Christy knew.”
“Was this when you disappeared?”
“It was awful. Rod was disgusted with me. When I started to show, I called my uncle and he sent me a plane ticket. I was going to give it up for adoption… b-but I lost it instead.”
“It’s okay.” He gripped her hand and squeezed it.
“But it hurt so badly.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Rather than being relieved, I was depressed. When I got out of the mental hospital, Uncle José told me he’d pay for plastic surgery and a gym membership if I’d go back to California and enroll in college. I had to be strong for Christy, so I came back.”
“You changed your name. Why?”
“Afraid…” she said. “The newspapers had me pegged as the Napping Nanny. I wanted a new life, a new identity, so I asked my father if I could take his last name. The judge thought it was reasonable, but I didn’t petition to change my first name because I thought he’d get suspicious, like I was running from creditors.”
“Jennifer.” His voice was gritty. “I’m glad you kept your first name. I don’t particularly care what your last name is as long as it’s mine.”
Jen’s heart did the flip flop thing, like it wasn’t sure whether to speed up or slow down. Had she heard him correctly? She didn’t dare ask him to clarify.
Dave slowed the SUV and merged to the right. He pulled off the highway to a lonely road. Tires crunching on gravel, the SUV stopped alongside a nursery full of boxed palm trees. He cut the engine, shifted in his seat and took her hand. “This wasn’t how I planned it, but I can’t wait any longer.”
Leaning over to her side, he caressed her face and murmured in her h
air. “Jennifer, I’m of sound mind and body. I don’t fall in love easily, but when I do, it’s forever.”
Ugh… Something was off. She’d just told him the most awful secret. Sweat moistened her palms, and a jittery sensation lightened her head.
“Is this how you felt about Jocelyn?” Her words slipped in a hurried whisper.
He drew a thumb across her cheek, his eyes intently on her. “Yes. But she’s gone. You, Jennifer Cruz Jones. You’re the one I love, right here, right now.”
“But… but…” Hope bubbled and collided with doubt. Palm fronds whipped in the wind, their sound echoed the blood swishing through her ears.
His fingers swept across her temple. “I should have thought about how you felt back then. You cared for Abby and were fond of her. After Jocelyn died, you were there for Abby, and for me. But you must have been in grief also. I don’t know how I would have gotten through those months without you. Y-you comforted me…”
That wasn’t the way she remembered it. He’d treated her like a piece of furniture, stepping around her and hiding in his den like a wounded beast.
“I guess having anyone there was better than nobody.”
“You weren’t just anyone.” He lowered his eyes. “And well…the grief was too fresh. But, Jen, if Abby hadn’t disappeared… eventually, I would have fallen in love with you. Honest.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He kissed her cheeks and nose. “Because I fell in love with you while reading your letters and looking at the pictures and videos of you and Abby. Last night, after I left your place, I watched hours of videos. One of the wedding videos, the one Owen took, showed you in the background, modest and supportive, even when Jocelyn denied you maid of honor. I saw how kind you were to the woman who spilled punch on herself and the mother whose baby wouldn’t stop crying. You talked to toddlers and shook rattles at babies. You helped mothers get food for their kids at the buffet table, and even though no one asked you to dance, you gladly held purses and wraps for those of Jocelyn’s friends who were on the dance floor. I should have noticed and asked you to dance.”
Broken Build: Silicon Valley Romantic Suspense Page 29
