by Joanne Rock
“Megan’s missing,” Sam informed him, feeding the information on Sylvia into a tablet. The all-business cop look on Sam’s face was an ominous portent. “Her dad says he realized it a few minutes before I contacted him. He was in the backyard yelling her name while we talked. Her car is gone.”
Zach told himself to shut down the emotions making his blood run cold. Heather and Megan needed him to focus right now.
“APB on the car. Helicopter over the quarry?” he suggested.
“Definitely.” Sam barked orders into a police radio, then turned the tablet toward Zach while he held his hand over the mouthpiece on his radio. “Turns out Sylvia’s in rehab. Her last-known number is this.” He indicated the digits on the screen. “I need to get to the station to coordinate this. I’ll bring Gabriella with me.”
“How long has the woman been in rehab?” The ground gave way beneath his feet. His whole world would topple if anything happened to Heather. “Are you sure this is accurate? Could she be getting released today?”
“Looks like a court-appointed stint for heroin and she’s done two weeks of a four-week bid. No way is she out and using her phone to arrange a meeting with Heather.”
Zach swore. “Someone jacked her profile. Did I mention that J.D. is excellent with computers? It’s his only good subject in school.” He grabbed his keys, trying to make the pieces fit. J.D. was too young to be Gabriella’s stalker. But he might be helping his father. “I’m going to the station with you and I’m getting in the fastest squad car you have. You can arrest me for misuse of equipment when I find her.”
“Fuck that.” Sam scooped up his tablet. “Gabriella can stay here. We’ll take your Porsche and I’ll put my badge in the window. No one’s getting arrested today except a stalker.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IMPATIENT, HEATHER TAPPED her foot inside the fifties-themed doughnut shop just outside town shortly past noon.
She’d ordered two doughnuts and bought two coffees for the road, but now she needed to get back on the road. Yes, she desperately wanted company for the ride to Charlotte. Needed someone to keep her spirits up and assure her she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life by walking away from Zach Chance. But Sylvia was a newly minted adult and maybe didn’t fully appreciate what a big break this was for Heather. How the hell could she be late when they needed to get on the road? Heather’s nerves grew more frayed by the minute, especially since she hadn’t received a confirmation note from Sylvia this morning.
Giving up, she headed back outside. She debated hopping in her car and driving away, but first she walked around the back of the restaurant. She’d gotten some food here a long time ago with her family and remembered there were picnic tables in the back. She stopped. Not anymore, but there were a couple of parking spots. There was a plain white service van in one spot, and in the other, a car she could have sworn belonged to Megan Bryer.
Suddenly, a plastic hood was shoved down on her head. Darkness enveloped her. She dropped the coffee and doughnuts, and her hands scrabbled at the hood to tear it off.
She wheeled backward as the plastic was yanked hard. The material sealed to her lips and nose, choking her so that when she inhaled, she pulled the garbage bag-like material into her mouth. She would pass out in a minute between the pressure of the plastic squeezing her windpipe and the bag closing her nose and mouth. She heard a scream, muffled swearing and brakes squealing right before she was kicked in the back.
She fell on top of a body. A body that moved, thank God. The feminine form beneath her squealed but didn’t try to shove her off.
The hand that had been holding the bag over her head was gone. She used the freedom to shake her head hard and dislodge the thing from her airway.
Precious, precious oxygen flowed into her lungs before she turned herself to slide off the person she’d landed on. Her shoulder hit cold metal. She tore the bag off her head and found Megan Bryer lying next to her inside the back of a van, her mouth duct-taped. Shock froze Heather for a moment before she lurched forward to help.
“Oh, my God, Megan.” She put an arm around the girl and tugged at the tape with her other hand.
Only then did she realize that Megan was staring out the back of the van at the fight in the parking lot. Sam Reyes had a big boot in another person’s back. A person who was... J. D. Covington?
Horror had her reaching for Megan’s hand. She squeezed it as she watched the teen face down in the gravel. Until Zach stumbled into her line of view, grappling with another man.
Jeremy. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Her mayor punched town council member Jeremy Covington in the face. The gut. The jaw. Heather couldn’t believe a long-time member of the town board had done this. With a teenage son as an accomplice, no less. She squeezed Megan tighter to comfort them both.
Zach’s last jaw punch knocked Jeremy to the ground. Sam wasted no time tossing a pair of handcuffs at Zach. Heather sat up, dragging Megan to sit with her.
“Are you okay?” Heather pulled her eyes off Zach to check over Megan, scared for what might have happened before she arrived. Looking for signs of trauma, she realized the girl’s wrists were taped together behind her back. “Did they hurt you?”
She tore at the tape and freed Megan’s wrists.
“No.” Her lips trembled. “There was no time. They grabbed me just a minute before they got you. I thought I was supposed to meet you here. I got a message—”
Clapping erupted. A group of diners had gathered to watch Zach and Sam save the day. Zach’s Porsche sat in the middle of the action, a red-and-blue light flashing in the windshield.
Jeremy wore handcuffs now, his face pressed against the gravel parking lot and the coffee Heather had spilled. Sam ordered the appreciative crowd to stand back, but a short, curvy woman with pink-and-blue-plaid nursing scrubs ignored him and ran for the van.
“I’m a nurse,” she called, waving a stethoscope from her pocket as if it was an ID badge. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Heather insisted, and gestured to Megan. “She might be in shock, though.”
Then again, maybe she was, too.
Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion. She should be helping somehow. Calling Megan’s father. Reassuring the girl. But she was too stunned and shook up. Where was Sylvia? Was her friend okay?
But no sooner had she remembered her friend than she spotted Zachary Chance sprinting her way. His shirt was torn. His lip cut. Every knuckle on his right hand torn open and bleeding.
He was the most welcome sight ever, and it felt like decades since she’d seen him, instead of hours. She wanted to throw herself at him and weep with gratitude—for this and about a thousand other things.
“Did they hurt you?” Zach’s eyes missed nothing as he slowed his step and tipped up her face to examine her. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.” The words were true. Her heart was so full it nearly burst her chest open wide.
His relief was palpable. Wiry tension hissed out of him with a deep sigh, and he pulled her into his arms for a hug that was way too fast. Maybe it was because of the crowd around them that he set her aside awkwardly.
“How on earth did you know where to find me?” She couldn’t imagine what would have tipped them off to her whereabouts, much less that she was in trouble. “I was supposed to meet my friend, Sylvia. I’m worried they hurt her.”
“Sylvia’s fine. I spoke with her on the phone on the way here. She never contacted you. We’ll get ahold of the Covingtons’ computers and we’ll find evidence they hacked Sylvia’s online credentials to impersonate her.”
Heather tried to follow what he was saying, but she was still so rattled. They stayed close to Megan in the back of the van while the timely Good Samaritan checked her over and spoke to her quietly. Heather wasn’t
letting the girl out of her sight until she was back with her father.
Zach stroked her hair. “We called for helicopter support when we started putting some pieces together. But Harlan Brady has a CB radio on the farm, and when he heard the call, he fired up the crop duster and started searching on his own.”
Heather shook her head. “I believe it. There are some pretty amazing people in Heartache. And it’s going to be better now that we’ve weeded out these two.” She frowned, her brain fuzzy. “I don’t understand why Jeremy Covington would target me.”
“Opportunity, maybe?” Zach shrugged. “Sam will investigate. We’ll learn more now that we have enough reason to gather evidence from the quarry and his house. But we’re guessing he’s been increasing his activity over the years and getting sloppier at it.”
“Hey.” Megan scooted closer to them, a bit less shaky. Her voice was steadier as she interjected.
“How are you doing?” Heather asked. “Hanging in there?” She scrubbed a comforting hand along the girl’s arm.
“I should have known it wasn’t Sylvia.” Megan angled her shoulders around the nurse who was wrapping a second blanket about the teen’s shoulders. “She hardly ever plays mutant zombies, but when a chat window opened after the game, she—well, someone—invited me here. She said we were going to jam for a little while and give you a proper send-off for the audition.”
“I would have liked that,” Heather admitted, shuddering with how close they’d come to...so much worse. “But from now on, I’m arranging all meetings with human beings I speak to.”
Another police siren wailed in the distance, growing louder as it neared them.
“Excuse me, sir,” the nurse said. “I can clean up your fingers for you so they don’t get infected.”
“I’ll wrap them at home, but thank you.” He pointed to Heather. “Does she look okay to you?”
The nurse studied her, eyes lingering on Heather’s forehead. “Looks like she might have a bruise. But other than that, I’d say she’s in good shape. I think the girl is okay, too. Lucky for them you were here.” She smiled at Zach.
Heather grinned at the flirtatious tone in the woman’s voice. Who wouldn’t want Heartache’s mayor?
“Well, thank you.” He nodded politely at the woman and then slid an arm around Heather. “I’d better get her home to her mother. I promised I’d return her in one piece.”
“You spoke to my mom?” Heather tipped her head into his shoulder, so grateful to feel the warmth of him close to her.
“I called to see if she knew where you were. She told me Jeremy Covington was drooling on you at Erin’s wedding reception.”
“My mother doesn’t miss much.” Heather remembered all that Diana Finley had observed from her window overlooking the reception.
The police car arrived and the cop turned into the driveway. J.D. and Jeremy were read their rights and put into the squad car. In the meantime, a tow truck arrived—one of the Elliotts’ vehicles, but it wasn’t an Elliott behind the wheel.
Megan seemed to recognize the young man, though, since she threw off the blanket and bounded into his arms. Her father was in the passenger seat, and it took him a bit longer to clamber out of the monstrous truck. By the time he did, Megan broke free from the boy to hug her crying father.
“Dan Bryer sure does love his daughter.” Heather swiped a tear from her eye, thinking she hadn’t gotten enough hugs from her dad, but she had adored him just the same.
“Wade Sanderson seems pretty fond of Megan, too.” Zach laid his cheek on Heather’s head, and she wanted to stay like that forever, his one arm around her waist, the warmth of his shoulder right where she could kiss it.
“I hope he’s a good boy. She needs a good one after J.D.” She lifted her head, her muddled brain clearing a little. “Zach, do you think there’s any chance that Jeremy Covington was the one who attacked Gabriella?”
“If there’s any evidence of it in a computer, I guarantee we’ll find it. And we’ve got a statement on file from Sam—something he logged with his old police chief in San Jose. There’s a dated record of the brawl he got into to save my sister. He made notes about the types of injury he inflicted on the perp. We might be able to use it to check for scars or doctor visits Covington made around the same time. It would be circumstantial, but it would build the case.” His jaw tightened. “My gut says yes, it was him.”
Heather hadn’t fully understood how invested Zach had been in finding his sister’s attacker.
“If he was the one who tried to hurt Gabriella, he’ll be sent away for a long time.” She had faith in Heartache’s sheriff, who seemed to have the crime scene well in hand.
She also had a lot of faith in Mayor Chance. He probably had more training in digital forensics than anyone else in Tennessee. If there was any scrap of digital evidence that Covington had stalked Gabriella online, he’d unearth it.
Zach held out his cell phone. “Do you want to call your mother and tell her you’re okay or would you like me to?”
Just then, one of the sheriff’s deputies interrupted.
“Excuse me, Ms. Finley? Sheriff Reyes asked me to take your statement, if you’re feeling well enough.”
She nodded, reluctant to leave Zach but eager to get this over with so she could be with him. “I am.” She touched his arm, gathering strength from him—this man she loved and could have lost today. “Would you mind calling her while I give a statement so we can finish up faster? I might ask you for a ride home, if it’s not too much trouble. I’m a little too shaky to drive.”
Another clipped nod was her only answer, making her wonder if she was giving him too little, too late. One thing was certain. She wasn’t giving up Zach Chance again without a fight. Even before she’d been attacked, she’d been second-guessing her decision.
And now she knew.
Her dream had shifted. And no dream was good enough that didn’t include Zach.
* * *
ZACH HIT THE horn as he drove past Heather’s mom’s house that night.
Heather arched an eyebrow at him from the passenger seat.
“You and my mom seem to have a friendly accord,” she noted.
The bruise on her forehead had darkened, making him angry to think about how close she’d come to...he didn’t know what. Rape? Worse? Federal investigators were going to take a look at the case since some of the crimes around the quarry had taken place along the interstate. That would speed things along and give them additional support to build the case against the Covingtons. Gabriella, he knew, would finally come forward with her own statement. They’d discussed it the night before.
“Your mother was clearheaded and articulate in a crisis.” Zach pulled into the short driveway in front of Heather’s bungalow and jogged around to her side of the car to help her out. “She played a huge part in helping put me right where I needed to be today. I owe her a debt forever.”
“I’m so grateful. To both of you. And Sam, too.” She pulled her door keys from her bag and passed them to him, their fingers brushing, her eyes holding his.
He liked opening doors for her. Being with her. Calling her mom on the phone. Yeah, he was really far gone on this woman. Sam would mock him for the rest of his life.
But Zach didn’t care. He just wanted to make things right between them.
“Let me get the lights.” He slipped past her to flick the switches so she could see where she was going. Wherever she was, he wanted to be there, too—on so many levels. “I won’t stay if you want to sleep, but it would make me happy as hell to watch over you tonight. I think I might have nightmares unless I spend twenty-four hours straight just staring at you and knowing you’re okay.”
“I want you here.” She dropped her bag onto a table and toed the door shut with one foot. “More than anything.”
; She slid her arms around his neck and he told himself to go slow. Talk through every facet of what was happening between them so they understood what they were getting into. And how tomorrow was going to go. This time, there would be no surprises. No backing away from what they’d started.
Or if they did, they’d be backing away knowing they’d given it their all.
“Heather, I don’t want you to miss the audition because of that bastard. If you feel well enough, I can charter a private plane and get you there in two hours. You could still make the audition.”
“I don’t want to go.” She shook her head. Her body sealed to his, making thoughts more difficult.
Still, he persevered.
“I don’t blame you if you’re tired and stressed. But there’s another audition option next month in New Orleans, right?” Gently, he smoothed her hair off her cheek, tilting her chin so the moonlight from a high window shone on her creamy skin.
“I don’t need to go then, either.” Her lips grazed his cheek. The scent of her shampoo made his knees a little weak.
“Why? You can’t turn your back on a dream because of this. You don’t want to live with regrets.”
“I’ll tell you why.” Releasing him, she stepped back to slip off her shoes.
She stood in front of him in a filmy white blouse and blue-and-white-gingham capri pants with a dirt smudge on the knee. She looked beautiful, but he couldn’t wait to burn the blouse, which had a man’s boot print between the shoulder blades.
Zach hadn’t recovered from seeing Jeremy kick Heather. It was the first thing his eyes had homed in on when Sam had pulled into the diner’s parking lot after receiving a call from Harlan and Ethan Brady saying they’d spotted Heather’s car. The old man had flown the ancient crop-dusting plane while his grandson had hung out the side using binoculars to search the area. Zach was seriously considering giving the kid the Porsche for Christmas.
“I’ve held on to the dream of performing my whole adult life. It’s a good dream, and it helped me to hone my music and become a better singer and performer.” The words flowed easily from her mouth. “I’ll always be grateful that dream gave my talent focus and passion. But I realized today that it wasn’t the right dream anymore for where I am in my life.”
