Hearts Divided

by Debbie Macomber

  “What is it?”

  “Shouldn’t we check the message pad? I’ve read hundreds of mystery novels, and the amateur detectives always check the blank pad for pencil impressions.”

  “Couldn’t hurt. Go for it.” Jake half grinned, waiting patiently while Chloe went to stare at the pad.

  She squinted at it, frowning. “I think he might actually have written something on the pad, then torn off the paper. There seem to be words….” She took the dangling pencil stub and carefully rubbed the lead over the paper.

  Jake bent closer to read the shaded letters. “Sunshine Real? No, Sunshine Realty. And the rest is a phone number—with Seattle’s area code.”

  Chloe dropped the pencil and ripped off the sheet. “The phone number for a Realtor in Seattle? Maybe he used them to find an apartment or a house to rent?”

  “I’m betting you’re right.” He took the paper, folded it and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Smart lady.”

  They left the house, locking the door behind them. Jake called Gray as soon as they were in the car and on their way out of town.

  “Gray? It’s Jake.” He turned onto the highway and headed north. “Granstrom didn’t pan out, but he gave us some valuable information. Kenny Dodd’s father still lives in Mason City. Granstrom says Dodd blames me for Kenny’s death and he left town about eight weeks ago, right after receiving the military incident report.”

  Chloe listened to Jake’s half of the conversation.

  “Hold on a sec.” He lowered the phone to hold it and the steering wheel in one hand while he fished the slip of paper out of his pocket with the other. “He left the phone number of a Seattle realty office on the pad in his kitchen. Want to check it out?” He read off the number, then glanced at Chloe and the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “No. He tore off the note, but Chloe saw the impression his pencil made on the pad beneath.”

  His smile disappeared. “Yeah, do that.” He looked at his dashboard clock. “We should be back in town by eight or so—too late to do anything tonight. Right, see you tomorrow.” Gray apparently had another question. Jake responded. “No, she’s staying with me until we figure this out. Right.”

  He rang off, put down the phone and slipped the folded paper back into his pocket.

  “You told Gray I’m staying with you?”

  “Yes.” He met her gaze briefly, then looked again at the empty highway stretching ahead of them. “Gut instinct tells me there’s more to this than we know. And I always listen to my gut.”

  Chloe was silent for a moment, considering. “I have to admit I’m more than a little leery about Mr. Dodd myself. So I’ll accept your offer to be my bodyguard until we find him.” His mouth curved in a swift smile, filled with more than a little satisfaction. “But if you’re offering to guard me just to get me up to your apartment alone…” She paused.

  Jake sent her a questioning glance.

  “You didn’t need to go to these lengths,” she said softly. “All you had to do was ask me up to see your etchings. I would’ve said yes.”

  His eyes heated. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Please do.”

  “I love a woman who knows her own mind.” He reached across the console and took her hand from her lap, raised it to his mouth and pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss into her palm. Then he laid her hand, palm down, on his thigh.

  Chloe shivered, fully aware that she’d taken an irrevocable step. Anticipation pulsed through her veins, heated by the flex of powerful muscles beneath her hand as he shifted gears. She settled back and watched the scenery flash by.

  It was after 9:00 p.m. when they arrived in Seattle and turned into the alleyway behind Jake’s building. He triggered a remote control. Ahead of them, a garage door set into the brick wall of the warehouse began to rise. Once they’d driven inside, the headlights swept over the cavernous interior. The door rumbled smoothly down behind them, shutting out the night.

  Chloe had a quick impression of space and high ceilings before Jake switched off the engine and headlights, throwing the area into blackness. The Porsche’s dome light came on when Jake pushed open the door; Chloe got out, too, quickly surveying the surrounding space. Then the big room went dark again. The only illumination came from a glowing yellow bulb mounted over a door at their far right.

  “Hey, Jake.”

  “Max.” Jake caught Chloe’s hand and drew her with him toward the doorway. “Any problems?”

  “None. If anything, it’s too quiet.” A man stepped out of the shadows, an assault weapon cradled in his arms.

  “Let’s hope it stays like that.”

  Max nodded and turned away. Chloe noticed light eyes in a handsome face and dark hair tied back at his nape before he disappeared into the shadows.

  “Who was that?” she whispered to Jake as they went through the doorway and climbed a set of stairs.

  “Max Luken. He works for me.” He unlocked a door at the top of the stairway, pushed it inward and waited for Chloe to enter.

  Moonlight poured through skylights, throwing cool light and dark shadows over the apartment.

  Jake’s hands closed over her shoulders and he brushed his mouth against the side of her throat. Chloe turned in his embrace, sliding her arms around his neck.

  He pinned her against the wall with his body and covered her mouth with his.

  “Next time, we’ll make it to the bedroom,” he muttered. “I promise.”

  Jake drove Chloe to UW the next morning, in time for her ten o’clock class, leaving her at the open lecture-hall door. She walked inside and dropped her books on the table, reassured by his solid presence in the shade of the big old walnut tree.

  An hour later, Chloe left the lecture hall by the side door. Despite the unresolved threat posed by George Dodd, anticipation at the prospect of spending the next few hours with Jake made her lighthearted. Her smile faded when she discovered that he wasn’t waiting for her. She reached the tree and stopped beneath its leafy shade, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

  “Where is he?” she wondered out loud.

  After a few minutes, she gave up and set off alone down the walkway toward Liberty Hall.

  Keys in one hand and cell phone in the other, she punched in Jake’s number as she slipped the office key into the lock. The pile of books in her arms began to slide and she grabbed for the top two but there were too many to catch. Gravity took control and she let the phone slide into her skirt pocket while she struggled to keep from dropping the entire stack.

  “Darn it.” Annoyed, she pushed open the door, concentrating on juggling the armload of books and still hold on to her purse and briefcase while she hurried into her office. She tumbled the pile onto her desk; two of the books kept sliding and hit the floor behind the desk.

  She heard the door click shut.

  “Miss Abbott. How nice of you to join us.”

  Chloe spun to face the closed door. A man stood with his back against it. He wore a gray suit and a cap with Executive Limos embroidered in black above the shiny bill. The small, lethal-looking black gun, pointed directly at her, was rock steady in his hand.

  In the corner to his right was Winifred, her hands secured with plastic handcuffs in front of her, silver duct tape over her mouth.

  “Gran!” Chloe jerked, taking a quick instinctive step toward her grandmother. The man’s voice stopped her.

  “No, no. Stay where you are.” He smiled gently. “Unless, of course, you want to see your grandmother hurt.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is George Dodd. But I’m sure you’ve guessed that by now.”

  Jake leaned against the walnut tree’s trunk and watched through the open door as Chloe began her class. Ten minutes into her scheduled hour, his phone rang. Gray had the address of George Dodd’s Seattle residence. Jake immediately paged Max, stationed in the parking lot to watch the Porsche in case Dodd decided to target it. Max took over guard duty for Chloe, and Jake broke speed limits on his
way to Capitol Hill.

  Gray was waiting for him on the sidewalk outside a run-down apartment building near downtown Seattle.

  “This is the address you have for Dodd?”

  “Yup.”

  Jake ran a quick, assessing glance over the old building’s worn facade. “It doesn’t look like Dodd. He’s obsessively neat and clean.”

  Gray shrugged. “Maybe he chose this place on purpose because it’s the direct opposite of his usual living space.”

  “Could be.” Jake followed Gray into the small foyer. “What floor is he on?”

  “Third. Apartment 302.” Gray looked at the elevator’s grimy buttons and shook his head. “This thing’s older than dirt. I say we walk up.”

  “Good plan.”

  The third floor of the building had six doors opening off the hallway. The walls were painted institutional green and matched the worn green carpet on the floor. Both men drew weapons, taking opposite sides of the door to Apartment 302.

  “You got a concealed-weapon permit for that thing?” Gray asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just checkin’. Wouldn’t want to have to arrest you.”

  “Oh, hell. Just open the damn door.”

  Gray grinned, banging on the door panel. “Open up. Police.”

  No one answered.

  Gray knocked once more, repeated his words, and was again met with silence.

  Jake bent, slipped the knife from his boot sheath and lifted an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

  Gray rolled his eyes, looked up and down the hallway and nodded.

  It took only seconds for Jake to open the door.

  “You know, Morrissey, even cops can get busted for breaking and entering,” Gray said as they walked into the small apartment.

  “No one will ever know,” Jake promised.

  “No one except you—and you’ll probably blackmail me.” Gun drawn, Gray moved swiftly across the unit and cleared the bathroom. “Nothing here. In fact, this place doesn’t look like anyone lives here.”

  “Not in the living room. But the bedroom sure as hell does.”

  “What’s in there?” Gray strode to the doorway of the bedroom and stopped abruptly. All four walls were covered with maps, sheets of closely printed notes and blown-up photographs. Some of the photos were of a young man in a Marine uniform, smiling proudly. One wall held pictures of Jake, both alone and with Chloe. What surprised Gray were several photographs of Chloe’s grandmother.

  He stepped inside the room, registering the desk pushed against the far wall, and the computer, monitor and printer atop the dust-free surface. No papers were stacked on the desk, no clutter of pens or paper clips were strewn across the polished wood.

  Jake’s phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he flicked it on. “Hi, Chloe. What’s up? Chloe?”

  Gray turned from his study of one of the maps to look at him.

  Jake stopped talking. “What the hell?” He listened for a second, then covered the mouthpiece with his fingers and jerked his head toward the door.

  “What’s going on?” Gray followed him into the hall and closed the door.

  “Chloe’s phone is on and I can hear her talking to a man. I think it might be Dodd.”

  “Shit.”

  They ran down the stairs, through the lobby and outside. Jake fished in his pocket for his keys and tossed them to Gray. “You drive. I’ll keep the line open.”

  “Where is she?” Gray turned on the ignition and shifted the car into gear.

  “Liberty Hall.”

  Please, Jake, answer your phone. If he didn’t pick up, the call would be switched to the automated answering service.

  “We’re going for a walk. You will remove the tape from your grandmother’s mouth and place the scarf over her hands.” He gestured with his gun at the crumpled gold silk on the floor at Winifred’s feet.

  Winifred’s gaze, steady and strong, held Chloe’s as she carefully pried loose the tape. The skin beneath was reddened and she winced as the tape came loose.

  “Sorry, Gran,” Chloe murmured.

  “Not your fault.” Winifred shifted her gaze to George Dodd when Chloe bent to pick up the scrap of silk. “Where are you taking us, Mr. Dodd?”

  “To the Bell Tower.” He smiled and Chloe’s skin prickled with warning. There was no humor in his smile. “I’ve arranged a place for you there.”

  Chloe glanced at Winifred as she carefully wrapped the gold silk around her wrists, concealing the connected loops made of small ties, the kind that came with garbage bags. They effectively bound her hands together. Her grandmother shook her head, a slight, nearly imperceptible movement. Chloe narrowed her eyes to acknowledge the message that she should bide her time, then stepped to the side, facing their captor.

  Dodd noted the scarf. “Very good. Chloe, you will walk ahead of us while your grandmother walks with me. Any attempt on your part to summon help will result in my having to shoot her. We’ll take the South Annex stairway up to the Bell Tower.” He gestured Chloe forward.

  She crossed to the door and opened it.

  “Remember, not a word or your grandmother dies.”

  Chloe nodded. “You want me to walk ahead of you all the way to the Liberty Hall Bell Tower?” she asked, speaking more loudly than usual.

  He glared at her. “That’s what I said. Outside. Now.”

  She pulled open the door and stepped into the empty hallway.

  Jake, please be listening.

  Eight

  “He’s taking them to the Bell Tower at Liberty Hall.”

  “Which end of the building is that?”

  Jake visualized the map he’d used to find Chloe’s office the first day he’d taken her to lunch. “South end. I think there’s a ground-floor entrance.” He checked his watch. “Damn it. We’re still at least fifteen minutes away.”

  Gray looked at the traffic around them and turned left, accelerating up a residential street. “Maybe we can shave a few minutes off the time.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone, handing it to Jake, then quickly downshifting while scanning the intersection ahead of them. “Call it in to the PD. And tell them to alert UW campus security that we have a hostage situation at Liberty Hall.”

  Dodd waved Chloe and Winifred ahead of him into the tower. The room was octagonal, and each wall had wide glass windows, giving it the appearance of a lighthouse tower. The ceiling had a round opening, and high above, the automated bell hung, silent. A deep window ledge created a waist-high shelf that circled the room.

  Chloe’s gaze swept the space as she searched for an advantage, but there was nothing. No furniture, no drapes or blinds on the windows.

  Only one object sat in solitary splendor on the window ledge directly across from them.

  Gran’s birthday clock. How did it get here? Puzzled, she looked at Dodd and found him watching her, a small smile on his thin lips.

  “Ah, you recognize the clock, Chloe?”

  “Yes, it was a birthday gift for my grandmother. How did it get here?”

  “I brought it, of course. I took it from the house before I intercepted the limo driver and appropriated his car to collect Mrs. Abbott from the cruise ship this morning.” He nodded approvingly. “Most accommodating of you to make plans that fit so perfectly with mine. Sit down on the floor, Mrs. Abbott.” He waited until Winifred complied, then turned to Chloe. “Turn around and cross your wrists behind your back.”

  Chloe reluctantly obeyed, conscious of his firm, unwavering grip on the handgun.

  He slipped a plastic tie around one of her wrists and threaded a second through the loop before he yanked the first one tight. Then he circled the second around her other wrist. Chloe winced at the pinching and bit back a cry of pain when he pulled it snug.

  “Sit on the floor next to your grandmother.”

  Chloe did, and he swiftly looped and tightened nooses around her ankles, binding the ties together with a third length of plastic. Then he did he same t
hing to Winifred.

  George Dodd stood and smiled down at them. “I suppose it’s only fair that you understand what’s going to happen to you.” He glanced at his watch before walking to the rosewood clock. He turned the clock so they could see the back and opened the small door to expose the intricate workings. A whitish-gray substance now filled the entire space and a small object with wires leading from it was attached to the flashlight battery installed for the alarm.

  A sense of dread overwhelmed Chloe. “What is that?”

  “Dynamite. More specifically, dynamite from Jake Morrissey’s company. It needed to be Jake’s dynamite that destroyed you, Chloe, just as it was his dynamite that killed my son. You see the importance of the continuity and connection, don’t you? Revenge isn’t complete without all the parameters clearly defined.”

  Oh, God. He’s completely crazy. Jake, are you listening? Hurry!

  He checked his watch again. “I must leave you. It’s time. You have precisely ten minutes. When the hands on the clock reach twelve, the battery will send electricity through the alarm to the detonator cap and set off the dynamite.” He smiled benevolently. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. Only Morrissey will feel—he’ll suffer when you’re gone. I’m sorry to have to use you, but this was the only way to punish him.” He looked out the window. “The Bell Tower at McGyver Hall has a perfect view so I can watch Jake Morrissey as his world explodes.” He turned and walked to the door. “Goodbye, ladies.”

  And he left, quietly closing the door. The sound of his footsteps as he moved quickly down the stairs faded away.

  “Gran, reach into my pocket.” Chloe rolled to her knees and shifted closer to Winifred.

  Winifred didn’t question her. Instead, using both hands, she pulled the cell phone out of the square pocket of Chloe’s full skirt and held it steady while Chloe bent over.

  “Jake! Jake, are you there?”

  “Chloe, thank God! Are you all right?”

  “Yes. But Dodd put dynamite in Gran’s clock and set it to go off in ten minutes.”