“Go ahead. Holler, Yell, Cry. No one will hear you.” Pierre’s voice cut through the darkness.
Carlie recalled what had happened. She shivered. What did that horrid man do to me? Where am I? How am I going to get out of here? “What do you want?”
A light came on. Its brightness blinded her for a moment. Blinking, she focused on the man who held her here. No longer wearing the latest Paris fashions, Pierre had donned ragged gray sweats. His hair was disheveled, and madness filled his gaze. What happened to him? He looks like a homeless man. “I told you. I did want you, but no more. You’ve soiled yourself with that cowboy. But I still need your father’s money.”
A flicker of hope. “Daddy will give you anything you want if you let me go.”
“Oh, yes. He will. Or else I’ll kill you, just to make you both pay for ruining my chances.” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up as if he’d touched an electrical current. Her hope diminished. What’s to keep him from killing me even after he gets the money? I’ve got to get out of here.
Carlie peeked down at her hands. Plastic ties anchored her wrists and ankles to a cot. Uncomfortable, for sure…and certainly a deterrent to getting away. She imagined trying to run with the bed attached to her back like a turtle’s shell. Little steps until she fell flat on her face. Donning a pained expression, she made a stab at getting him to remove the bindings.
“Pierre. My hands are numb. Can you please get these ties off? I think they’re cutting off my circulation.”
He strolled over and ran a finger around her wrists. “They’re tight, but I don’t want you getting away.”
“I won’t. I promise. If you were watching me, you know I hate my father. He’s always tried to run my life, telling me what to wear, how to speak, and what to think.” Her voice softened. “You could ask for more money and we could split it. I’d love to get back at dear old Dad.” She forced a smile. “We could be a team. You and me.”
“What about your husband-to-be?” Spit flew out of his lips. His anger seemed to turn on a dime.
Carlie said a prayer that Marcus would forgive her. Getting away in one piece was more important than tricking her father. “We’re faking the engagement.”
“Like I believe that. I saw you two together. Besides, you bid all that money on him.” He leaned over, his nose centimeters away from hers. “I’ve got to contact your father. The sooner he sends the money, the sooner this will all be over.” Pierre caressed her cheek. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it.” As he stormed away, tears fell down Carlie’s cheeks.
***
Marcus had found Carlie’s locked car in the parking lot. The engine was cool to the touch, so it hadn’t been used recently. Again, Marcus tried her cell phone, this time leaving both a text and another voicemail. Unable to sit still, he paced the sidewalk in front of her apartment.
Finally, he spotted Max, the deputy sheriff, approaching. He jogged over to him and held out his hand. “Thanks for coming.”
Max shook his hand. “Glad to help. We go way back. Any news?”
“Nothing. I found her car. But it was locked and undisturbed.” He pointed toward the parking lot. “This was where I found her keys. I also inspected her apartment. Nothing was moved. Nothing taken…only Carlie’s missing.”
Raising his hands, Max gave a pained smile. “I have to ask. Could she have run away? I know you guys are engaged. A fight? Family matters?”
Anger flared in his stomach. While he realized Max was only doing his job, he hated being asked. “No fights, and she would have told me if she was leaving. Now, her father’s a different story. He’s in town and wants her to return to New York. I saw him this morning. He could have tried to drag her out of town, but she’d never go willingly. Could he have done it? He’d demanded her obedience but I don’t think he’d physically hurt her. My gut tells me he’s not involved.”
“We certainly need to check him out. I assume he is staying at the Whisper Inn by the highway?”
Marcus nodded. “For a man used to the Four Seasons, our small motel has to be a shock. At least they had that recent renovation. I’ve heard they’ve updated everything.”
A black Mercedes SUV stopped on the street in front of the two men. Unable to believe his eyes, Marcus chuckled. “Ask and you shall receive.”
“What?” Max turned toward the car.
“That’s Carlie’s dad. You said you wanted to talk to him.” Marcus strolled out to the car. The rear window rolled down. “Just the man I want to see.”
Mr. Fulton stuck his head out the window. “I’m not here to see you, cowboy. I’m here for the sheriff. Someone’s kidnapped Carlie.”
Marcus froze. He’d hoped Carlie’s father had taken her. At least, she’d be safe. Now, his anger flared again. Where was she? Who had her?
The assistant ran around and opened the door. Mr. Fulton stepped out and handed a piece of paper to the officer. “This just came through my email from a phony account.”
Marcus scanned the paper over Max’s shoulder. A ransom demand for Carlie’s release. Five million dollars or she’d be returned in pieces. Mr. Fulton had forty-eight hours to get the money together. Another email would be sent.
As he grabbed Mr. Fulton’s lapels, a red haze settled over his vision. “It’s your fault. You and your money. They went after her to get their hands on it.”
Max grabbed at his friend while the assistant tugged on his boss. Marcus released his death grip then watched Mr. Fulton crumple to the ground, sobbing.
“You’re right. It’s my fault.” He glanced up at Marcus then reached for him. “Help them find her. You love her. Don’t let her be hurt.”
A warmth spread through Marcus’s chest as realization dawned. I do love her. I’ve loved her since the auction. If—no, when we get her back, I want our engagement to be real. He turned toward his friend. “Max, you have some mad skills with tracking.”
The deputy nodded. “We need to get back to my office where I can use the computers. I’ll get started.” He jogged back to his car.
Marcus gazed down at Carlie’s dad. “Get up. I love your daughter, and we’re going to get her back. I’m heading to the station.”
Mr. Fulton stood. No longer the lump weeping on the ground, he wiped away his tears. “I have to contact my bank about the money. I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s office. Let’s go, Thaddeus.” They jumped into the Mercedes then sped off.
Marcus tugged his necklace free of his shirt. “Momma, please help. I have to find her.” With a kiss on the cross, he slid it back inside then shot off toward his car. Hold on, Carlie. We’re coming.
CHAPTER TEN
Marcus entered the sheriff’s department to find Max already at his desk, focused on the computer. “Any luck?”
The deputy glanced up. “I’ve found that the email was sent from a fake account which pinged through sixteen different IP addresses before hitting Mr. Fulton’s mailbox. The fake account was created yesterday, and this was the only email sent from it.” He held up the paper in a plastic evidence bag. “But since it was a free email account, there’s no credit card on file, and the person used a fake name and address as well.”
Marcus clenched his fists, longing to punch something. “Shit. What about Carlie’s phone? Can we trace it?”
Max rubbed his chin. “Did you know that many don’t shut off all the apps when you power it down? They actually still have apps running for alarms and locations.”
Marcus gritted his teeth. He didn’t need a technology lesson.
Max continued. “Why am I telling you this? With it on, for sure we can find it. If it’s off, we can track it to the last location it was on. But we also might get lucky, and her phone could be set up to run even when it appears off.”
“I’ve been calling her and leaving messages. It seems to ring, though, not going right away to her voicemail. Do you want to give it a try?” He held out his cell.
The deputy laid Marcus’s phone on t
he desk then input Carlie’s number into the computer.
Only the clacking of the keyboard broke the silence while Marcus waited and hoped. Each moment appeared to be much longer. He tapped his foot as the buildup of nervous energy in his body escalated. When would Max say something? Could he find her? It’d already been over eight hours since she’d gone missing. Shaking his head, he tried to keep the fearful images from clouding his mind. He needed to stay sharp so he could rescue Carlie.
“I’ve found her.” Max jumped out of his seat and ran to the large county map on the wall. His nose inches away, the deputy searched for the location.
The office door swung open, clanging on the wall. Mr. Fulton sprinted in with his assistant following. “The money is being wired to the local bank. I can get it in the morning for the rendezvous.”
“Might not be needed. Max said he’s located her phone.” Marcus hurried toward his friend. “Where is she?”
Max pointed to the map. “Her cell is still on. Lucky for us. Unlucky for the kidnapper.”
Marcus’s impatience had him gritting his teeth. His voice came out fierce. “Go on.”
“She’s at a former restaurant supply company. It’s been abandoned since they went under last year. The building is on the north side of town out past the freeway.” As Marcus started to move toward the door, Max’s hand on his arm stopped him. “We can’t just go in there guns blazing. Whoever has her could kill her.”
“What’s your plan, then?”
Max returned to his desk. “I’m going to do some more recon, pull up building plans and find out who owns the property now. But I’ll need your help…both of you.”
Marcus glanced at Mr. Fulton. Carlie’s kidnapping seemed to have aged him. Deeper lines stood out on his face. Dark circles showed under his eyes. The man who’d appeared so high-class just yesterday stood before him in a rumpled suit with hair sticking up. Marcus thought about his own frustration and worry and couldn’t blame her father for his. No matter what Carlie believed, Marcus could see just how much he really loved her. If only her dad got his chance to make things right with her. As he strolled closer to watch over Max’s shoulder, he vowed to do whatever he could do to make it happen.
***
When she awoke this time, Carlie’s arms were numb and her bladder demanded attention. “Pierre. Are you there? I need to use the bathroom.” Her voice echoed in the abandoned office. She twisted her neck to see if he lurked nearby. He sat on a crate, chewing his fingernails. “Come on. I really need to go.” Wiggling on the cot, she worried she’d not be able to wait.
He scooted off the box and ambled toward her. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he sliced through the bands on her ankles then the ones on her wrists. “Take it slow. You’re bound to be stiff.” He slid the knife back into his pocket and held his hand out to help her stand.
As she sat up, she rubbed her hands together. The blood came flowing back in a painful reminder of how she’d not moved in hours. How long had it been? Time had held no meaning since she’d been taken. After rubbing her ankles, she carefully touched the back of her head. Her fingers paused at the lump there. Just touching it hurt. Examining her fingers, she didn’t notice any blood and hoped she didn’t have a concussion. She placed her feet on the floor and reached for Pierre’s hand.
“Thank you.” As she put weight on her legs, they crumpled. Pierre grabbed her and held her steady.
“Go slow,” he whispered in her ear.
A shiver of horror slid down her spine. She’d played a dangerous game. One which might result in losing her virginity or life…but she needed to stay on Pierre’s good side. Bathroom, water, and food, in that order. And he was the only one who could provide it. “Which way to the potty?”
“Let me help you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He slid his arm around her waist as they walked toward the rear of the building. Would he let her be alone in the bathroom? Or would he demand to watch? Carlie swallowed the bile in her throat. No sense worrying until she found out.
Each step sent pain shooting up her legs. “Can I please not go back to the cot? I need some water and food. My muscles are aching from being strapped down too long.” She tried to keep her voice soft and kind, rather than expressing the anger which fueled her determination. If only she could overpower him and escape. But where was she? And how could she get back home? She couldn’t even walk without help, right now.
Pierre held open the door to the cramped bathroom with only a toilet and sink. Carlie couldn’t see a place to hide and no windows for escape. “Thank you. If you will…” She waved her hand at the door. “I need my privacy, please.” Adding that last word set her anger on edge, but her mother had often quoted the saying about honey and vinegar.
Pierre shook his head. “No. I’m not closing the door, but I will turn my back.” He leaned on the doorframe, which made getting past him impossible.
Carlie quickly did her business, flushed, and stood in front of the sink to wash her hands. With the tingling lessoning, she was more stable on her feet. She splashed a little water on her cheeks but, without a mirror, she couldn’t see how bad she looked. Maybe it’s for the best. So far, Pierre hasn’t tried anything, and I’m not itching to give him a reason to. But I will let him continue to think I’m weak.
“Pierre. I still can’t walk well.” She reached out and grabbed onto his arm, putting her weight on it and pulling him off-balance. “Please don’t tie me back to the bed. My legs can’t handle it. Did you know I used to dance on Broadway? A dancer’s legs are her instrument. And mine are broken.” She added a few weeping sounds to her woeful tale. She stumbled and crumpled to the floor, forcing Pierre to lift her and carry her to the cot.
When he turned to leave, she grasped at his sleeve. “Please, I beg of you.”
He tugged his arm free. “I’m getting a chair. Knock it off. You high-society types don’t know the meaning of hard work.” He strode behind two large crates and pulled out a metal folding chair. As he carried it over, his grumbling echoed in the space.
Carlie took a moment to get a good glance around. The warehouse had only one door, off to the left, that she could see. Near the top of the walls, a couple of windows showed the outside sky still a dark blue, dotted with clouds, she couldn’t have been missing for too long. Or had one day already gone by while she lay passed out on the cot? Unable to know for sure, Carlie was grateful for the view of the sky and clouds. It gave her hope the outside world would be there when she did escape.
The two large crates could be hiding any number of things if the chair was an indication. But other than the cot, the place appeared vacant. With the tall ceiling, sound echoed. Since she hadn’t heard anyone other than Pierre, she believed he acted alone. At least the odds were even that way. She recalled the gun he’d shown her when he stopped her at her apartment. If she could get her hands on it, she just might have a chance.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Pierre? That slime bag?” Marcus gripped the back of the chair. While only another hour had passed, he’d felt the pressing weight of time on his shoulders. “How is he the owner of the building?”
“It appears he bought it two years ago when he opened his restaurant in Fairplay. The building housed and sold restaurant furnishings, which helped supplement his income from his eatery. However, his high-priced and overly fancy food pairings quickly lost him customers and profits.” Max’s fingers tapped over the keyboard. “He’s in debt pretty heavily now. Looks like he’s going to lose it all if he doesn’t make a large payment to the bank by the end of the month.”
Marcus released the chair then paced back and forth and stole a glance at the computer. “He kidnapped Carlie to get the money for the bank payment? Sounds like something he’d do.”
“I’m sure kidnapping wasn’t his first choice. I’d received a couple of recent complaints from other women around town about Pierre’s sudden desire for marriage. He’s recently proposed to two other women, but when they turned him
down, he became unbalanced, stalking them. I spoke with him, and he backed off. I thought all was good.”
The deputy stood and laid his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Your recent engagement could have pushed him to desperation. He was spiraling out of control. Something was bound to happen.”
“Now that we know where Carlie is and who has her…what’s your plan to get her back?” He cracked his knuckles. “Remember, no matter what the plan is… Count me in.”
“With the sheriff off helping with the flooding in Saria, I’m in charge. I can deputize you to give you protection under the law, but you have to follow my orders.”
Max met his gaze. Not willing to turn away, Marcus nodded. “I’d give my life for her.”
“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.” He slapped his buddy’s shoulder. “How well can you shoot? I know you can ride, but we won’t need… Wait. I have a plan.”
***
The metal folding chair’s back dug into her shoulders. With no cushion, it was like sitting on the concrete floor. At least, she wasn’t zip-tied to it. Pierre had brought her a granola bar, some beef jerky, and water a little while ago. While not a filling meal, Carlie devoured it, knowing she needed to keep her strength up.
Pierre had pulled another chair over and sat facing her with one of the boxes at his back. He’d told her about the pickup for the ransom money in the morning. She gave up trying small talk, since he’d made it very clear that her time in the chair was only limited. The evil guys on television always told their master plans, which allowed the victim to escape. However, Pierre was no mastermind. The more she’d listened to his ranting, the more she believed he was a spoiled little boy, like many of the guys she’d met in New York.
Carlie glanced down at the ring on her left hand. The diamond sparkled and gave her hope that Marcus was out there trying to find her. She wished she had been able to meet his parents, but maybe, someday, he would share his photos, stories, and memories with her. They certainly did a wonderful job raising him.
Cowboy Strong Page 21
