“True. At the best, how quickly can they get it here?” Birdie asked.
“Not quickly enough. We need to move now.” Kellen began to settle into that deadly calm before battle. “If whoever took Rae is already on the property—”
“What do you think has happened to my granddaughter?” Verona demanded in a high voice.
“She’s been taken by someone who wants me dead.”
“I’ll call 9-1-1.” Verona pulled her cell phone out of her belt pocket and waved it at Kellen.
Kellen clasped her wrist. “No.”
Verona tried to jerk away. “Why?”
“I’ll handle it.” She indicated Birdie. “We’ll handle it.”
Birdie, tall, calm and intent, gowned beautifully and ready to fight.
Verona’s gaze flicked between them both. “How can you—?”
“The police would make this a hostage situation. Rae might die. I didn’t take Rae up that mountain and bring her back alive to lose her now. You can trust me.” Kellen stared into Verona’s eyes. “Do you trust me?”
Verona nodded.
“All right,” Kellen said. First crisis averted.
Birdie said, “When I arrived, security seemed efficient.”
“Yes. I thought it was. I think it is.”
“But.” Birdie nodded and went into the bathroom, searching for weapons.
Kellen turned to Verona. “Would you call Max?”
“He’s in the kitchen! He won’t hear!” Verona was all exclamation points and panic.
“Let’s give him a try,” Kellen said.
Verona started punching her fingers at her screen and cursing in a low voice.
Kellen retrieved her phone and called the security firm. “Mr. Parliman, this is Miss Adams. You’re familiar with Max Di Luca’s daughter, and mine? Yes. Rae.” She nodded, although the man on the other end of the call couldn’t see her. “Rae has been kidnapped by someone. A man, that’s all I can tell you, probably white, possibly with brown hair.” In the picture anyway. “Can you and your men make sure Rae and her kidnapper don’t leave the property?”
“Of course. We have procedures in place for exactly this kind of emergency. We’ll tighten the perimeter starting now.” Mr. Parliman’s response reassured Kellen, making her believe Rae would be found here, somewhere on the site.
Kellen’s job was to make sure Rae was found alive.
“I need a weapon,” Kellen told Mr. Parliman. “A pistol.”
“Miss Adams, I can’t loan you a pistol.”
“Any kind of firearm. My daughter has been kidnapped, and I know whoever did this is a killer. I need to find her.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Adams, I understand, but we cannot loan our weapons to anyone. I don’t know what your weapons knowledge is—”
“I was in the military.”
His voice was soothing and firm, as if she were nothing but a civilian, and a female civilian at that. “But if you accidentally hurt or killed someone while wielding one of our weapons—”
“I’m Captain Kellen Adams of the United States Army. I survived two campaigns in Afghanistan and a terrorist attack in Kuwait. If I hurt or killed someone with a weapon, it would not be an accident.”
“Miss Adams, your hysteria proves my point.”
For one moment, Kellen was blind with rage.
“Now.” Parliman’s patronizing tone eased. “I have with me two gentleman who claim—”
“Mr. Parliman, don’t let Rae and this man get away, or you’ll be nothing but a head on my wall.” Done wasting time, Kellen hung up. Her child had been kidnapped. Kellen needed to go hunting. She required a firearm now, and he was worried about legalities.
Verona took Kellen’s arm again. “I called Max on the house phone and on his cell. No answer. He’s in there with the Di Lucas. You know how loud they are.” Verona was getting loud herself.
“All right. It’s all right.” Kellen grasped Verona’s hand.
“Max isn’t hurt, isn’t he?” the anxious mother asked.
“Did you escort him back to the house and see him go into the kitchen?”
“I took him into the kitchen and delivered him into the hands of the relatives!”
“Then he’s fine. He had no reason to believe we would have a problem.” But Kellen needed help. “Are there any weapons available on this floor?”
“No,” Verona said.
“In this building?”
“No! We try to keep weapons out of guests’ hands, and that’s the best way to do it.”
“That makes sense.” It did. Damn it.
“Why? Why?” Verona had grasped a measure of calm, and now let it slip beyond her grasp. “Why would anyone want to kill you? Why would they take Rae?”
“I don’t know,” Kellen said.
“Military assassin?” Birdie asked.
“That’s my best guess.”
Birdie used her phone to call again, and again said, “No answer from Temo and Adrian.”
“Very bad.” Kellen’s teeth ached from clenching them.
“Is it that man?” Verona asked. “That Brooks? Did he take Rae?”
“No. Max doesn’t like him, but with my approval, he trusted Rae to his care.”
“Nils Brooks made a pass at you on your wedding day!”
Kellen thought of the writhing figure they had stepped over on the way up the stairs. “I didn’t say he was a good man. I said he was dependable and a fighter, one of the best.” And he was MIA. Which only made Kellen more concerned about who had taken Rae.
“We’ve got to find him!” Verona was frantic. “And Max. We’ve got to get Max.”
“Yes. But whoever this is—” she pointed at the man in Rae’s drawing “—should be scared, but isn’t. That child is not helpless.”
Verona calmed, mesmerized by Kellen’s certainty. “Wait. I know what to do. I’ll call Arthur. He can handle anything!”
Kellen grabbed both Verona’s wrists. “No. You must not involve Arthur or any of his people.”
“You think Arthur Waldberg—No! No, he’s so charming. So efficient. So polite and gentlemanly. He’s not at all like all the other winery managers who are young and unruly and...” Verona’s voice trailed off and her eyes got wide. She looked at Kellen. “You can let me go now. I’m never a fool twice.”
Birdie came out of the bathroom with a rattail comb, a can of hair spray, and picked up the lighter by the fireplace.
Kellen continued, “Max and I talked about who we thought might be a problem.” Arthur and his people. “Verona, go to the house, find Max and tell him what’s happened. Tell him to bring the bag out of the gun safe in my room. The code is 3252.”
Verona turned and fled, leaving the door open.
“This is pitiful.” Birdie showed Kellen her stash. “If this guy’s got a gun, we’re going to die.”
“We’ve got to find Nils. He brought the head. He’ll have weaponry to protect it.” Kellen thought through this logically. “Verona left Rae in the room alone. Nils was on guard duty. Rae begged to see the head. Nils wanted to make her happy, so they went to the Triple Goddess and were ambushed. That’s how this guy and Rae got the head. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“So maybe Nils will have weapons, and maybe not, and maybe he’s dead.”
Kellen called his number. In the distance, they heard a ringing and walked out into the corridor. The door across from Rae’s room was half-open, and she pushed it the rest of the way.
Nils Brooks lay sprawled on the floor. Blood oozed from the back of his head. “Not good!” Kellen knelt beside him and checked his pulse. “He’s alive, but he’ll have a headache.”
Birdie flung herself at Nils’s luggage. “You find Rae. I’ll see what weapons I can collect.”
Kellen ran
to Rae’s room. It was empty. “Who was he?” she muttered. “Where did he take her? Today, there aren’t that many places where people...aren’t. Wine cellar. Mixing shed. Storage.” She stood in the middle of the tiny suite and looked around, trying to see anything out of place. Crayons were scattered across the desk. One naked princess doll had been tossed beside her pile of glittering clothes. Graham cracker crumbs festooned the rumpled comforter.
Rae’s voice echoed in her head. I’ve got stars on my sash and on my hair thingie.
There. A star on the floor.
What a child she and Max had produced! She started out the door.
Birdie met her. “Whoever got Brooks cleaned him out of weapons.” She offered the rattail comb.
“That’s okay.” Kellen picked two sharpened colored pencils off the floor. They weren’t worth a damn at a distance, but they were deadly in close quarters.
Kellen and Birdie stalked down the corridor, two women gowned in wedding finery.
“Look.” Kellen pointed to a star at the top of the stairs. “That’s off Rae’s sash.”
“Hansel and Gretel. She knows her fairy tales.” Birdie was impressed.
“She knows her superhero tales better.” Kellen moved with deliberate haste down the stairs. “She’s LightningBug, I’m ThunderFlash, and between us, we’re going to make someone sorry.”
54
Verona rushed into the kitchen where Max was pouring wine for the guests and laughing at wedding jokes, and signaled him to come with her.
“It looks as if I might be in trouble again.” He put the bottle on the counter. “Help yourselves, and no fighting!”
He and Verona left on a wave of wine-fueled good humor, and as soon as they set foot onto the empty porch, his mother grabbed his sleeve. “Rae is missing!”
“Again?”
“Max, she’s really missing. A man took her.”
“What?” All his joy in the day fell away. “When?”
“A few minutes ago. Kellen said you knew who it was.”
Of course. On his wedding day, like a fool, he had put all the safeguards in place and believed he could take a moment to be happy. He should have known. He should have learned from the past. He should have been more vigilant. “Kellen knows Rae is gone?”
“She sent me.”
“Why didn’t you call?” He should have never smiled. He should have been the man who understood there was no place for joy, not today, not ever.
“We tried. You didn’t answer your phone!”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “My God.” Four attempts to reach him.
“I was running here, and I kept calling you. I kept hoping you’d pick up.”
His mother put him on a rack, broke his bones and his heart.
“Kellen’s searching for Rae right now,” Verona said. “She said for you to get the bag out of the gun safe in her closet. The code is—”
“I know what the code is. Stay here and keep watch.” He sprinted around the house to avoid the mob in the kitchen, slipped in the utility room and up the stairs to Kellen’s room and was back in less than three minutes, holding the bag and with a pistol tucked into his pocket. He found his mother telling Bisnonna Benedetta to return to the house. “Did you see anything?”
“No. The poor dear gets confused and—Max, why don’t we tell everyone to search for Rae?”
“Because this person, whoever he is, is a killer. What good does it do us to find Rae and find her dead and the guests with her?”
Verona staggered. “A mass shooting.”
Max caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Kellen said that I knew who had taken Rae?”
“It’s Nils Brooks, right?”
“No. Not him. Do you have your scheduler on you?”
“Of course. Why? Who...?”
In a hard certain voice, Max asked, “Where’s Arthur Waldberg supposed to be right now?”
“Arthur?” Verona paused in the act of retrieving her phone from her belt. “You think it’s Arthur, too?”
“I’ll find out fast enough. Where is he supposed to be?”
“Um.” Verona pulled up the schedule on her phone. “He’s in the wine cellar bringing up the first round of wines for the reception.”
“Wouldn’t the cellar be a good place to hide Rae?” Max went out the screen door. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something out.”
“I’m coming, too.” Verona ran after him.
He didn’t wait. He touched the small revolver in his pocket, checked to make sure the safety was still latched. If he found Arthur fast enough, he’d stop the entire plot dead in its tracks. He came at the wine cellar from the back door, close to the shrubs where Kellen liked to lurk. He used his key, opened it quietly. When his mother would have gone in ahead of him, he held her back. He stepped into the cellar and listened.
From deep in the red wines, he heard the clink of bottles being moved. He pulled the revolver.
Verona nodded in approval.
Wow, Mom. With a gesture, he held her in place and moved silently toward the sound. He rounded the corner into the row where they kept the good cabernets and found Arthur removing the bottles, wiping them clean and placing them in a twelve-pack box. Even in this dusty place, Arthur looked immaculate, his suit and tie fitting for the festive occasion. Max pointed the pistol. “Arthur?”
Arthur glanced up and saw Max and the gun. His eyes widened, and he lifted his hands over his head. He still held one of the 2004 vintage bottles. “Sir?”
“Where’s my daughter?”
“Rae?” Arthur looked from side to side. “Is she lost?”
“She’s been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?” Arthur faked confusion well. “Sir, I’d like to put the bottle down.” He moved very slowly, slid the bottle into its slot and just as slowly stood straight. “I don’t know where Rae is. Are you sure—?”
“Very sure. Tell me, Arthur, how much of a fool have I been? Who are you really?”
“I...I’m Arthur Waldberg...” But his gaze fell away.
Max moved with the speed of the linebacker he had been. He grabbed Arthur by the front of his starched white shirt, pulled him up on his toes and said, “Try again, asshole.”
With impeccable dignity, Arthur said, “I am who I say I am, sir. You know, you’ve seen my efficiency in directing staff and I do know my wines.”
“Where did you learn?”
Arthur took a big breath. “In prison.”
“Arthur!” Verona had arrived, and she was appalled.
Max released him. Now they were getting somewhere.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Di Luca. I didn’t want to lie.” Arthur straightened his shirt and tie. “In my job, I had previously worked alone, but while in prison, I found myself working in... The prison was in Texas. There are a lot of start-up wineries in Texas. Many of the wines are marginal, but as Mr. Di Luca has discovered, I have a good nose. The warden also discovered that, and by the time my term was over, I was in charge of the prison winery, creating wines and managing the staff.”
“That’s absurd,” Max said.
“You’d think. But the warden made a fortune off Barbed Wire Wines.” Arthur smiled almost imperceptibly. “I trust you’ve heard of them?”
Max had, and he stared at Arthur in disbelief.
“What were you in for?” Verona knew the right question to ask.
“I traveled around the world, masquerading as a gentleman of leisure, as an English lord, as old and noble Russian aristocracy. They welcomed me. They loved me.” Arthur looked sideways at Verona. “I romanced the women and stole the family heirlooms. If I had chosen to steal from you, you would have never known who had taken your finest jewels. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I am now as honest as a man can be.”
“That’
s not saying much,” Verona said tartly.
“I collected a good staff at the prison winery, and I knew if I could bring them together in one place, we could be the best. We could own the world of wines.” Arthur’s voice was clear and cold; he stated his past and his wishes for the future without knowing how Max and Verona would react. “I’d like to own the world of wines from this very estate.”
Max glanced at his mother. She was not reacting well at all; her face was mottled with rage and...humiliation?
Arthur was a handsome man who looked every inch the nobleman. He spoke well, he managed people deftly...he had romanced Verona, and she now realized why he had directed his attentions at her. To get his way in all things concerning the winery—and it had worked.
“Which one of your people took Rae?” Verona asked. “Which one kidnaps children?”
“None of them.”
“Is one of them a pedophile? Is one of them an assassin?” Verona was shaking with anxiety and anger.
Arthur tried to take her hand.
She slapped him away.
“No. I won’t work with pedophiles or killers. I have counterfeiters, horse-race fixers, thieves like me. But I don’t blindly trust everyone I’ve hired. I’m telling you, I watch them all. We meet nightly, we talk, I make clear how fast their lives will take a turn for the worse if they try anything illegal here. I’m not going to ruin my one chance to live a life doing what I love because someone wants to put a counterfeit Di Luca Wines label on an inferior bottle of wine.” Arthur smiled with chilling menace.
“It doesn’t matter what you think you know.” Verona’s voice rose. “Rae is gone.”
“I hired one man with whom I haven’t served time.” Arthur pulled out his phone and punched in a number.
“The pianist,” Verona said immediately. “Dan Matyasovitch.”
“He was my latest hire.” Arthur listened and hung up. “His phone is going to voice mail. I worried about him at first. He was friendly with Rita Grapplee. Then he pointed out her thefts and I got rid of her. That reassured me about him, but, sir—Rita Grapplee had no morals. She would do anything for money, and if she was working for Matyasovitch...” He punched another button. “Conference call with my people. They’ll know where Matyasovitch is supposed to be, and they’ll know where he was last seen. Mr. Di Luca, Mrs. Di Luca, we will find him, and Rae.”
What Doesn't Kill Her Page 30
