by Cate Beauman
Now what? She glanced at her watch as he pulled into the busy traffic, heading back toward the Palisades. It was four-thirty. Hailey would be expecting her; so would Ethan.
“Go ahead and keep looking at your watch, bitch.” He began to laugh. “Do you think by some miracle Master Cooke is going to come and save you, Sarah? Not this time. By the time anyone realizes you’re gone, we’ll have moved on to our more exciting plans for the evening.”
Sarah wanted to spit in his face, to try to grab the butt of the gun resting at his waist, even jump from the car. If she didn’t have the baby, she would’ve done all three, but she did. She wouldn’t risk her child. Instead she stared out the window, desperately trying to think of a way out of this.
It wasn’t long before Matthew turned off the Pacific Coast Highway and headed into the quiet neighborhoods. He pulled into a drive four blocks from her house. The pretty, two-story house, painted a glistening white with black shutters, surprised her. It looked so…normal, even cozy. When she spotted the blue roses, wrapping around the trellis, she remembered there was nothing normal about Matthew Denmire.
He blew out a deep breath teaming with satisfaction as he leaned back, relaxing his hands on the wheel. “Well, this is it. What do you think?”
She didn’t dare look at him. She stared straight ahead. “It’s lovely.”
“It’s your new home until I decide otherwise. Let’s get you settled in.”
Sarah stepped from the car with no choice but to follow.
CHAPTER 28
DEEP BLACK FADED TO GRAY as she moaned, blinking, trying to focus. Stabs of sharp, excruciating pain sliced through Lisa’s skull and she whimpered. Where was she? Why did she hurt like this? She turned her head and cried out against the unbearable ache. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she retched in agony.
Lying still, breath sobbing in and out, she stared at the pool of blood and vomit puddled on dirty concrete. Where was that coming from? Her eyes darted about the dim room. Everything was so blurry. A white calla lily dangled from the table above and it clicked—the flower warehouse. “Matthew,” she croaked. Where had he gone? Where was Sarah?
Dull and listless, her mind clicked off again. For several minutes she listened to the hum of the pipes above, fighting to find the will to think over the confusion. It was so hard to think over the drumbeat in her brain. “Sarah?” Why weren’t they coming for her?
And then she remembered. Where was he? She had to hide, to get away from the monster with the dead green eyes. He’d smiled at her, holding the heavy crystal vase she’d chosen from the shelf in the next room.
“Who knew a crude broad like you actually had taste, Lisa? Do you know what I’m going to do with your lovely selection? I’m going to smash it over your head.”
She stepped back, trying to make it to the door, and he laughed. “Although I do love a good game of hide-and-go-seek, I just don’t have time today. It’s your day to die, Lisa. I’m very much looking forward to killing you.” He pulled a gun from his pocket. When he pressed the trigger, a hot current screamed through her body and she fell to the ground in pain, unable move. He waited until she made it to her hands and knees before she heard him say, “Night-night, Lisa.” And then she felt the crushing blow before she felt nothing at all.
Had he done the same thing to Sarah? What if she was out on the floor, unconscious? She had to get to her phone. Her purse lay feet away, leaning against the chair she’d pulled out to sit in before Matthew had gone mad.
Lisa scooted forward, inch by agonizing inch. Black and red spots danced in front of her eyes before she closed them, taking several deep breaths. She opened them again and her purse looked farther away than it had when she started.
Sweat dripped into her eyes and she brushed her arm over her forehead. She gasped as she pulled back, watching deep red drops dribble down to her wrist. Would she bleed to death before she could call for help? Her heart pounded in utter terror as she imagined dying alone on the filthy office floor. Her head throbbed with the tempo, only increasing the mind-numbing pain. She had to get a grip or she would die here.
Like hell she would. That bastard wasn’t going to win. This wasn’t how she was going out. Determined to live, determined to pay Matthew Denmire back, Lisa pulled herself forward, far enough to reach the strap of her bag.
She tugged her purse toward her and reached in, feeling around until her fingers clamped against the cool plastic of her phone. Her vision grayed, wavering and she bit her lip. She pressed 9-1-1 against the pad, moved it closer to her ear.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“I need…help…” The gray grew darker, circling up to grab her.
Ethan sat in front of his computer, cross-referencing the rice paper orders for the third time in two days. Nothing was adding up to Eric Walker being the buyer. Two names stuck out due to the large number of orders they had placed in the last six months, and the man accused of being ‘The Blue Chip Rapist’ wasn’t one of them.
Terrance Ward, over in Bel Air, had ordered hundreds of extra sheets, as well as an Ezekiel M. Denmire. Ethan kept hovering his mouse over that name. Why the hell did it sound so familiar? And why was Ezekiel having paper delivered to a personal address instead of a place of business? That was certainly worth looking into.
The phone rang. He picked it up without glancing at the readout.
“Cooke.”
“Ethan, it’s Hailey.”
He instantly picked up on the tension in her voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, I’m not sure. Sarah isn’t back yet.”
He darted a glance at the clock on his computer screen—five-twenty. “Her appointment was at one, right?”
“Yeah, and she said she thought she wouldn’t be any later than three-thirty. I’ve tried her cell several times, but she isn’t picking up.”
He didn’t like it. “Keep trying her phone. I’ll call Lisa.”
Ethan hung up and searched through his numbers until he found Lisa’s assistant. He punched in her number, waited impatiently, tapping his fingers against the wood of his desk. Sarah always answered her phone, especially when it was Hailey.
“Good afternoon, Celebrity Magazine. This is—”
“Dana, right?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Dana, this is Ethan Cooke. I’m a good friend of Sarah Johnson’s. She and Lisa were supposed to have a meeting this afternoon.”
“Yes, we’ve been unable to reach Lisa for the last couple of hours. If—”
He hung up, stood. Something was wrong. He punched in Hunter’s number on his way out the door.
“We’re on our way over, man.”
“I can’t find Sarah.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hailey just called. Sarah was supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. She’s not answering her phone. I just called the magazine. Lisa hasn’t answered hers either.”
“I knew I should’ve gone with her. That guy was a fucking creep.”
Remembering the day clearly enough, he knew he hadn’t paid a damn bit of attention. He’d been too caught up in the fight he and Sarah had had on the beach to focus on the florist. He couldn’t even remember what the guy looked like. “I’m heading over there now to see if I can find out what’s going on.”
“I’ll call Austin and drop Morgan off at Sarah’s. We’ll start canvassing the area between the shop and her house. Maybe she stopped off somewhere, broke down, locked her purse in the car.”
As Ethan yanked the Rover door open, he knew Hunter didn’t believe that anymore than he did. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll call you when I get there.”
Ethan drove well over the speed limit on his way to the florist’s. He cut off a Lexus as he changed lanes. The driver honked, waving his arms about madly.
“Get over it, asshole.” He took the left leading down the side street, passed “Elegant Expressions”. The storefront was dark, yet Sarah’s blue sedan sat par
allel parked close by, along with Lisa’s snappy black Porsche. Something was definitely wrong.
He continued, searching for a parking space. The bistros and chic little restaurant across from the shop did a steady business. People wandered about; there wasn’t an empty spot to be found. “Fuck.” Unwilling to waste another second, he jerked the wheel to the right and pulled into an alley.
Ethan reached under the seat, pulled his gun from the reinforced box. He placed the Glock in the belt holster he grabbed next and stepped from the SUV. He walked at a fast clip as he dialed Tucker’s number.
“Detective Campbell.”
“Tucker, this is Ethan Cooke.”
“Hey, what can I do for you?”
“Sarah’s missing.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” he spat out. “Sarah’s missing.”
“Just calm down.”
Ethan approached the shop, cupped his hand against the window, peering in. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Tucker. I’ve been crosschecking your paper orders for two days and there isn’t one, not one, fucking link to the man you have in jail right now. Sarah left for a meeting five hours ago and she’s not answering her phone. Neither is her boss.”
“Maybe they’re somewhere they can’t get a signal.”
“Don’t give me that shit.” Ethan stepped from the curb, looked in Sarah’s car, spotting nothing but Kylee’s car seat. He moved to Lisa’s next. “I’m standing next to both of their vehicles. The florist shop where they were supposed to meet is dark.”
“Let me…” Voices entered Tucker’s office, cutting him off. “Hold on, Ethan.”
Ethan jogged to his Rover, knowing in his heart Sarah wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? Fear threatened to cloud his brain, but he pushed it back; he needed to keep a cool head. “Tucker?”
“I’m going to have to call you back.”
“No, wait—”
“Right back, Ethan.”
He heard the click. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Ethan sat in his seat, dialed Hailey again.
“Hello?”
“It’s Ethan. Have you heard anything?”
“No, nothing.”
“Keep trying.”
He swung a u-turn on the busy street, waving his hand in thank-you at the car that let him out.
He drove past the shop again, stopping as a couple stepped into the crosswalk. While he waited, he scanned the darkened picture window and Sarah’s car. He pressed on the accelerator, planning to head home, slammed on his brakes, stopping traffic, as he zeroed in on the small squiggle of a name under the bold, fancy scroll of ‘Elegant Expressions’. He yanked his door open, ran closer, reading Proprietor: E.M. Denmire.
Everything clicked. Ezekiel M. Denmire. The florist who had paper sent to his home instead of his business. The florist, who in Hunter’s words, was ‘a fucking creep’. Running back among the honks and shouts from disgruntled drivers, he moved again, punching in Hunter’s number.
“Phillips.”
“He’s got her, Hunter. The fucking rapist has her. I can feel it.”
“I’ll call the police.”
“No. Listen to me. I’ve already tried that. I have his information at my house. It should still be up on the computer.”
“Austin’s there. He went over to see if Sarah might end up there.”
“I’ll call him for the address. You and Austin meet me. LAPD had their chance.”
He hung up, dialed again, reaching Austin on the second ring.
“Yeah, boss.”
“I need the address on my computer for an Ezekiel M. Denmire. He has Sarah.”
Ethan heard the tap of keys, waiting. “Shit. That’s close. He lives at 2019 Dearborn Avenue. It’s four blocks west of Sarah’s.”
“Meet me there.”
He was close, minutes away. He sped down the Pacific Coast Highway, praying he wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER 29
SARAH STOOD, ARMS WRAPPED TIGHT around herself, in the small room Matthew shoved her in an hour before. Blue roses decorated the side table next to a queen-sized bed. The wedding ring quilt, adorned with different hues of blue and yellow, had been pulled back, hotel style. There was even a fancy chocolate placed in the center of the pillows. She stared at the bed again, realizing what he would expect from her later, and clutched her arms tighter.
Moments after he’d slammed the door and locked it, Sarah rushed into the bathroom, looking for escape. The setting sun had blazed bright through the small window high above the toilet, but it was too far up and she couldn’t fit through the opening. When she knew she was officially stuck, that there was nothing more she could do, she sat on the spotless tile, rested her back against the cabinet and wept until she’d been able to think through the fear again.
Resolved to find a way through this, to survive for her children, for Ethan and the life they planned to make, she’d stood and started to plan. At some point, Matthew would come for her. When she found the right moment, she would do whatever she had to to get out of there.
Matthew knocked on her door as if he weren’t in charge of the sick game and entered. “Why aren’t you relaxing, Sarah? We have a very special night ahead. I’m fixing your favorite meal as we speak. Who knows, this might be your last supper. We’ll have to see, though. If I like your style—“ his gaze wandered to the bed as he smiled “—I might keep you around a little longer.”
“How am I supposed to relax when you say things like that to me?”
“Death is just another part of life. Don’t worry, I’ll try to make it quick.”
He walked over to the closet, leaving the door ajar. She took a step forward and he turned. “Don’t try it. You’re going to make me have to punish you. Besides, I bought you something. Here, put it on.” Smiling, he pulled the flowing blue dress from the closet and handed it to her. The fabric matched the roses and her eyes exactly.
“I put some cosmetics and hair pieces in the bathroom for you, along with your favorite shampoo and soaps. I’ll be back in half an hour. I expect you to look your best.” He walked to her, lifted his fingers, skimming them along her cheekbones.
Sarah cringed at the touch of his soft skin and stepped back.
Matthew grabbed her arm, squeezing, yanking her forward. His face pinked as his breath blew out in puffs against her skin. “What, am I not good enough for you, Sarah? Am I not pretty enough for you like your stud boyfriend?”
Spit flew as he talked, landing on her face. She desperately wanted to wipe it away. The grip on her arm tightened until her fingers tingled from lack of circulation, but she didn’t struggle, didn’t speak. That was what he wanted.
His hand flew up, cracking her across her face. Sarah stumbled back in surprise as pain radiated along her cheek and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She whimpered and threw her arms up in defense as he came forward again.
“That’s what I thought, you little bitch. When I ask you a question, you answer. Now, get your ass dressed.” He walked toward the door and stopped. “I have a better idea. Maybe I’ll help you undress. I think I’d like to watch you shower. Yes, indeed, I think I would. I’ll wash your back.” He groaned and touched himself. “Do you want to feel what you do to me, Sarah?”
Her stomach churned with nausea. “No, I don’t.”
The distant buzz of a timer sounded. “Well, saved by the soufflé. I can’t have it falling. What would we have for dessert? I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Oh, and try to relax. You’re looking a little stressed out.” Chuckling, he shut the door, locking her in.
Sarah walked to the bed on trembling legs, sat down, fighting to steady her breathing. “Oh, God,” she whispered. There was no doubt in her mind he would rape her after they ate and more than likely kill her.
She tried to stand, but her knees buckled. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her cheek stung and throbbed with every heartbeat. Hopelessness consumed her and she closed her eyes
. Lying back, she rested her hands on her belly. The echo of her baby’s heartbeat mixed with Kylee’s laughter. Ethan’s grinning face flashed through her mind. She couldn’t give up. Her family needed her to live.
Determined to make it through this, Sarah sat up again and walked to the bathroom. She closed the door, locking it, turned on the shower, undressed and stepped in. Washing quickly with one eye on the door and her ears tuned for footsteps, she tried to absorb the warmth and steam. She was chilled to the bone.
She turned off the faucet, toweled herself dry. She opened the small medicine cabinet and slammed it closed on a gasp as she took a step back. The products were identical and arranged just the way she had them at home. How would he have known what she bought, the way she arranged it? She rested her palms against the counter, stared at the swirls in the marble, unable to digest the gravity of his obsession. Despite the fact that she was standing in Matthew’s bathroom, held against her will, the medicine cabinet shook her to the core. He’d been in her home again, but when? How?
A loud bang from downstairs startled her back to the moment, and she checked her watch. She was running out of time. Matthew would be back in fifteen minutes. It was almost six o’clock. Surely Ethan knew something was wrong by now. Lisa would have missed her meeting. “Find me, Ethan, please find me,” she whispered.
Determined to look her best for the meal, she opened the cabinet again, pulling out the cosmetics she would need. The happier Matthew was, the less likely he was to hurt her. She shut the glass-paneled front and stared at the purple bruise covering her cheekbone, touched it gently. Wincing from the deep pain, she shook her head. There would only be more if she wasn’t ready.
Sarah twisted her hair in an elegant up-do and did her best to hide the mark on her face with concealer. After adding eyeliner and mascara to play up her eyes, she stepped into the bedroom, staring at her outfit for the evening.
The fitted, spaghetti-strap dress with a full skirt reminded her of something from a Disney movie. She took it from the hanger, pulled it over her head. She adjusted the skirt in place and reached behind her for the zipper. The fabric gaped in the back from the fullness of her belly. She sucked in, tried tugging at the zipper again, but it was no use. What was she going to do?
