“I need you back here. Marcello was arrested this morning.”
A chill ran down his spine. Why had no one called to tell him? “What for?”
“Racketeering. Among other things.”
Marcello was in jail and they wanted him to get him out. To take his brother’s place. Knowing full well he wasn’t his brother and had spent very little time in the courtroom. It wasn’t what he was good at.
He stared at the sleazy motel through the windshield. Why couldn’t he have the best of both worlds? Sara was fifty feet away. He could put on a suit again. What if he brought Abby to Mother, picked up Kent’s torch, and saved the day? He would be untouchable. Mother would revere him, Marcello would be indebted to him. He would be the hero. For the first time in his life it would be him on top. He would be the one everyone looked up to instead of his brother.
“I want you here now. I will have someone else bring my granddaughter home. Your duty is here.”
“That won’t be necessary, mother. I’ll be there in a few hours. With your granddaughter,” he said.
Silence. “You have Abby?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Another moment of silence. “You’ve made me proud, son. Bring her to me. Oh, and Stephen?”
He sat up straighter. His mother had never said those words to him before and he knew they didn’t come easy. “Yes, mother?”
“You’ve done right by the family. Now, move quickly. We don’t have time to waste.”
Feeling the urge to preen, he clicked off and tossed his cell phone on the dashboard. Kent may have been the golden boy, but he’d disgraced the family when he died. Stephen was smarter than his brother had been. He knew how to play the game. This time it would be him carrying the family name.
About damn time.
To stay in Mother’s good graces, he needed to move fast. Which meant snatching Abby, but letting Sara go. If he brought her back with them, Mother would never forgive him. He would lose the ground he’d just gained. Sara would have to wait until he’d dealt with Marcello. Then, he would find her and finish this. Get her out of his system and out of their lives forever. After that, it was smooth sailing for him.
And he knew just where he was going. Straight to the top. Higher and bigger than his brother ever had. Kent hadn’t been smart enough to set goals. Stephen was. He wouldn’t be the lapdog forever.
No, he would be top dog.
This was working out better than he’d ever thought possible. With a smug grin, he climbed out of the car and headed for the motel.
* * * *
Sara opened her eyes slowly, groggy, but not as exhausted as she’d been when she lay down. She wanted to keep moving, but decided a nap was the best thing if she planned on traveling any more today. The stress of lying awake last night, preparing herself for leaving, Abby’s tantrum, the misery she felt in doing this to her again, and traveling half the night had taken its toll.
Glancing at the clock on the bedside table she saw she’d been asleep for two hours. Rolling over, she reached for Abby and bolted upright when she didn’t find her. Frantic, she flew out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Empty.
Heart pounding, she turned a circle in the small, shabby room. Breathe. This wasn’t the time to panic. She couldn’t have gone far. Maybe to the pop machine for a drink. No, she knew better than to go out alone. She wouldn’t do that. Not without Sara hearing her leave. She’d been tired, but not too tired to hear her daughter get out of bed and leave the room.
But, she had.
Running to the door she threw it open and ran outside, warm summer air hitting her full in the face. Barefoot, she hurried down the uneven wooden porch and around the corner to where the pop machine sat in an alcove. Her heart pounded in earnest when she found it empty.
Spinning in a circle, Sara bit down on her lip. Holding her panic at bay she went to the office and stepped inside, standing behind an elderly couple checking in. Once they were done, she approached the manager, who stared back at her with a bored expression.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
The last thing she needed was to involve outsiders, so she mentally searched for an excuse to be there. “Um,” she said, running a hand over her tousled hair. “Could I get another towel?”
“Sorry, laundry isn’t done.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” With that she turned and rushed out the door. Breathing hard, she searched the parking lot and around back of the motel. By time she returned to her room she fought an anxiety attack.
Closing the door, Sara leaned against it, pressing a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. Where was her daughter? Her eyes landed on the bed where she’d slept only a few hours ago, longing to see her small form nestled beneath the covers. But, she wasn’t there. Her doll, however, was.
Sara pushed off the door and walked slowly to the bed. Sinking down on the edge, she picked up the doll. Abby never went anywhere without it. Ever.
Something dark and terrifying settled over her. She stroked a hand over the matted braids. Abby never would have gone anywhere without her doll. Not voluntarily.
Terror gripped her heart like a fist, followed by fury. This was no accident. With a strangled cry, she rose from the bed and grabbed her suitcase.
They wouldn’t get away with this. She’d stood by far too long and let the Benchleys control her life. It was time for her to fight for her daughter. This time she wasn’t backing down.
* * * *
Murphy opened the door to the motel room with a rusted number six dangling on it, his heart pounding. The manager said it was vacant, but he had to know for sure. Had to know if Sara had been here. She’d registered under a different name, but the description the manager gave him left little doubt in his mind it was her.
The room was empty, the bed made, just as the manager said it would be. But her scent lingered, he could smell it beneath the cheap cleaning agents. He imagined Sara lying in the single bed with Abby, scared and alone, convincing herself she’d done the right thing.
Chest tight, Murphy turned to the men behind him and said, “We just missed her.”
“The manager said she left in a hurry,” Gabe said. “But he never said anything about Abby.”
Murphy met his gaze. “No, he didn’t.”
“Maybe she was in the cab already,” Attie said.
“Or maybe she wasn’t with her at all,” Murphy said with a low curse. “I need to talk to that manager again.”
He started to brush past Gabe, but he stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Why don’t you let me do that.”
Murphy could read between the lines. He wasn’t in the mood to be civil.
“Gabe’s right. If Abby wasn’t with Sara we’ll find out,” Noah said.
Murphy’s gut told him what had happened and he didn’t like it. If Stephen Benchley took Abby, then why didn’t he take Sara too?
Minutes later, his suspicions were confirmed. Sara had gotten into the cab alone.
“Got an address,” Rogan said, typing on his laptop.
Noah glanced at Murphy, who nodded, already striding toward his SUV. He knew exactly where Abby was and where Sara was going. She thought herself a coward, but when it came to her daughter he knew she would move heaven and Earth to protect her.
He only hoped he got there in time to protect Sara.
* * * *
Sara turned Abby’s doll over in her hands, clenching and unclenching it. As long as she was holding it, she felt close to her daughter. Her stomach churned at the thought of Abby back in that house without her. Chelsea loved her granddaughter, but her ideas about how she should be raised didn’t match Sara’s, and Abby was the one who suffered those ideals. And now, she suffered them without Sara there to intervene.
Pushing the dark thoughts away, Sara smoothed a hand over the doll’s soft hair. She really didn’t have a plan for facing Chelsea, but she wasn’t backing down.
Her hand caught on the doll’s neck. Frowning, Sara ran a finger over a sma
ll tear in the seam. Some of the stuffing was sticking out, so she gently pushed it back in. Her finger hit something hard. Carefully, she dug inside and pulled it out.
“What on Earth?” she murmured, turning the small, silver box over in her hand. She wasn’t a computer whiz, but she knew a flash drive when she saw one. Kent had saved all of his business files on them, not trusting computers to hold the data.
This looked like one of his.
And he had given the doll to Abby…
Leaning forward, Sara said to the driver, “I need to get to a computer. Is there a town nearby?”
Thirty minutes later, Sara sat in the library of a small town called Newton just off the freeway. Eyes glued to the screen, she watched data upload on the ancient monitor, heart beating like a drum. Definitely one of Kent’s flash drives. He must have put it inside the doll before he gave it to Abby.
But, why?
Why would he hide such important, damning evidence inside a child’s toy?
Most of what she found was technical jargon she didn’t understand. But she could tell this wasn’t meant to see the light of day. It would, however, ruin the Benchleys. Kent included, if he’d been alive to see it happen.
Stunned, Sara leaned back in the chair. She held the key to getting her daughter back forever. And Kent had given it to her.
“Oh, Kent,” she whispered. He’d one this on purpose. He’d wanted her to find it someday. To break open the criminal activities his family was involved in.
He’d wanted her to save him.
He might have done this as a spontaneous act he was known for, but deep down wanted the truth to be uncovered so he didn’t have to live the lie anymore. Maybe he wanted to live free as she did. But, he would never get that chance.
Unless she did what he could never do.
Tears filled her eyes. She may not have been able to save him while they were married, but she could now. She would save his daughter from the same fate.
“I’m sorry, Kent,” she whispered, removing the flash drive and wrapping it in her hand. “I won’t let you down this time.”
* * * *
Sara shuddered as she looked around her. She would rather be thrown in prison than be back here. The Benchleys’ three-story mansion loomed just behind the iron gates, daring her to go inside.
Gathering her courage, she stepped in front of the camera and waited. A minute later the gates opened and she walked through, heart pounding against her ribs. A tall man strode down the driveway toward her. She recognized Chelsea’s security expert immediately.
“Hello, Ray,” she said as he approached and started patting her down. Her suitcase was confiscated along with her purse.
The stony-faced guard didn’t return her greeting, but motioned for her to precede him into the house.
Here goes, she thought, taking the first step toward her freedom, the flash drive tucked safely in her pocket. With every step she took, she felt closer to Abby. She couldn’t wait to see her, to hold her. To walk out of here forever with her daughter in her arms.
Her steps quickened as they approached the house. By the time she pushed into the foyer, she was breathless with anticipation. She half expected to see Chelsea waiting for her, but the foyer was empty.
“Where’s my daughter?”
Ray closed the door behind him. “Wait here.” He walked out of the room, leaving her alone.
No way she was waiting there. Taking the carpeted stairs to the second floor, she ran to Abby’s room and burst inside. Only to find the room empty and exactly how they’d left it six months ago.
“She’s not here,” someone said behind her.
Sara turned slowly to face Chelsea, who stood still as a statue in the doorway, her tailored suit hugging her tall, slim frame. She hadn’t changed one bit, not that Sara had expected her to. Chelsea paid dearly to stop the hands of time. A starkly beautiful woman, but beauty was only skin-deep. Inside, she was a viper. Today her dark hair was swept back in a chic twist. Her green eyes glittering dangerously.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
Not as long as she was here. Sara intended to change that. Not only did she have the flash drive, she’d made a couple calls on the drive over.
“I want my daughter, Chelsea.”
Chelsea’s eyes narrowed as they moved over her. There was a time Sara would have bristled beneath her scrutiny, but not anymore. Never again would she feel inferior to this woman.
“Something is different about you,” Chelsea said.
With her hair in tangles, her travel-worn clothes, and lack of makeup, she could imagine what she looked like. Certainly not the prim, proper woman Chelsea had trained her to be.
“You have a tan,” Chelsea said in disgust. She detested ruining her skin in the sun. Believed it aged too much.
All that time in the sun working on the ranch had turned her skin a golden brown. She liked it.
Sara held out her hands, palms up. “Yes,” she said with pride. “And I have calluses from honest, hard work.”
Chelsea scoffed and looked away. “You shouldn’t have come back here.”
“You have my daughter. Did you think I’d let you keep her?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Sara let her hands drop. “Tell me where my daughter is, Chelsea.”
“You will never have her. Stephen will--”
Something snapped inside Sara. She was in front of Chelsea, eyes blazing, before she knew it. “I want my daughter,” she said, low and angry. “You can’t keep her from me. I won’t let you.”
Looking shocked, Chelsea actually took a step back. But she wasn’t shaken for long. Her head tilted and she smoothed a hand over her navy skirt. “You won’t get her,” she said and turned to walk away.
Sara reached out and grabbed her arm, digging her fingers into Chelsea’s flesh. “Don’t walk away from me.”
Chelsea spun around, hand raised, but a voice down the hall stopped her from striking out.
“Miss Benchley,” a woman said. “The police are here. They…they are asking for Stephen.”
Sara let go of Chelsea, stunned by her own behavior. She looked at the maid, nervously wringing her hands in front of her. No one liked to give the mistress bad news.
“The police?” Chelsea repeated, her hand dropping.
“Yes, ma’am. They have a warrant.”
As surprised as Chelsea, Sara stared at the maid. The police were here with a warrant for Stephen’s arrest? She had made calls to lawyers on the ride over, but not to the police.
“Well, don’t just stand there, show them in,” Chelsea snapped, striding down the hallway. The maid hurried away.
Sara followed. Only Chelsea knew where Abby was, and Sara wasn’t letting her out of her sight. Besides, she wanted to see Stephen arrested. After everything he’d done to her, she had to see it.
By time she got downstairs, the police were snapping handcuffs on Stephen’s wrists and reading him his rights. The entire sight was surreal as Sara watched from the bottom step. Chelsea chewing the officers a new one as she reassured her son she would have him home by dinner, the officers completely ignoring her, the maid crying softly in the corner, Ray standing off to the side looking murderous and Stephen glaring at her, blaming her. Sara didn’t flinch from his stare, simply watched him being dragged out the front door.
Chelsea’s world was falling apart. Kent was dead. Stephen was on his way to jail. If the police could make the charges stick, no one could save him. Maybe she wouldn’t need the flash drive after all. Maybe the Benchleys’ time had run out.
Once the room cleared, Chelsea started barking orders. Staff scattered to do her bidding. Sara watched, seeing Chelsea’s carefully balanced world start to unravel. She knew how it felt to have things spiral out of control, but Chelsea had brought this on herself. Her wrong-doings were bound to catch up to her. Sara just wished it had been after she and Abby were gone, though this might work to her advantage.
With Chelsea thrown off-balance, it opened the door for Sara to get her daughter.
Approaching the angry woman, Sara said, “Chelsea, show me where my daughter is.”
Chelsea turned on her. “Get out,” she said between clenched teeth.
Sara lifted her chin. “No. And unless you want the cops back here I suggest you take me to Abby right now.”
Glacier green eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Sara reached into her pocket and pulled out the flash drive. “On this is enough proof of your activities to put you and Marcello and Stephen in prison for a lifetime.”
“You lie.”
“Do I?”
They stared at each other, Chelsea deciding if Sara was telling the truth and Sara making the stand she should have a long time ago. She shook from head to toe, but she didn’t waver.
Chelsea’s gaze dropped to the small device in Sara’s hand. She must recognize it. Kent had always used the same kind. But Chelsea wouldn’t want to believe her own son--her perfect son--could do this to her. Betrayal of the worst kind. Not a friend or a spouse, but a son. Her favorite son, who could do no wrong.
Compassion stirred, but Sara pushed it down. Kent had done this. Not her. There always came a time one had to pay the piper. Chelsea’s time had come. Sara knew she was striking while Chelsea was down, but it had to be this way.
Hardening herself, she folded her hand around the flash drive and held it out of reach. “All I want is my daughter, Chelsea. I don’t want your money or anything else. None of it matters to me.”
Thin lines bracketed Chelsea’s lips. She was hurting, though she hid it incredibly well. Sara saw the pain hidden in her eyes, the betrayal. The reality of what she’d done to her sons.
“Give me what I want, Chelsea, and I’ll burn this.”
Something flickered in Chelsea’s eyes. Sara knew she was throwing away the only evidence she had against the Benchleys. She was gambling that beneath the icy exterior lay a decent woman who could do the right thing for the right reason. Chelsea was an intelligent woman. She could salvage what little pride she had left and let Sara have her way, or she could deny her and see her family destroyed more. She could end up in prison beside her son.
Murphy's Law Page 21
