In the romantic novels she’d read as a girl, the gallant hero always did most of the rescuing and she didn’t have a clue as to how to start out reversing the role. Logic told her she should leave the matter to Zan and the police, that she had little idea of what was involved here. Obviously Jerry’s family was well off and his cousin even more so. Her guess was that someone had kidnapped him for ransom.
But if that was the case why had no such demand been made? And why did Zan consider it necessary to set guards on her?
With a feeling that her insides trembled, she got up at first light, showered and dressed in her summer work outfit of fitted beige pants and light sherbet green top and matching jacket completed with her usual high heels. Then she slipped a pair of more comfortable shoes in her capacious work bag, added a bottle of water and a quickly made sandwich and slipped quietly out of the apartment without awakening her mates and having to make an explanation as to why she was leaving a couple of hours early for work.
Not that she didn’t plan to report at the tall structure that housed the headquarters for her employer. It was a building full of offices, the actual products were manufactured elsewhere, and inside she worked in a tiny cubicle doing demanding, but definitely boring work that had more to do with finances than anything creative.
Jerry, sensing her restlessness at the job she professed to feel so fortunate to have, had been encouraging her to go into something more demanding. “You’re a smart cookie, Mac,” he insisted.
She’d been flattered. But nobody at the home had ever thought she was clever at anything but classroom work and she suspected she’d been lucky to get this far. Good jobs were hard to come by and she couldn’t afford to risk this one.
Now as she walked through the quickening day, she thought of his concern with tenderness. Nothing else had mattered, not her dull job or her drab apartment, since she’d run into Jerry Caldecott just before Christmas. Her life had taken a turn for the better. Somehow since the brief visit to his family at the Christmas resort at Lavender, Texas, she’d basked in his growing affection and even learned to connect a little better with others around her. The two girls who had roomed with her just because she helped pay the substantial rent had turned into friends and even the rather stoic coworkers sometimes smiled or said a little something to her.
But best of all had been Jerry. Seeming to guess at her emotional fragility, he’d moved slowly and they’d exchanged kisses and gloried in rare moments alone. She’d had somebody to talk to who seemed really interested in what she thought and felt and she’d listened eagerly to what he had to say.
Many Dallas workers reported early to work and though the pedestrian traffic in the downtown business section was thinner than what she usually saw, she drew comfort from the presence of others and thought Zan was being overly concerned in putting guards on her trail. Her relationship with Jerry had been private with few people other than Stacy and Belle even being aware they were dating, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would pay her any attention.
It seemed the likely place to begin her search for Jerry. She would begin by asking to see his office early this morning before the building was fully occupied.
Whatever magic Zan had put in place worked. The guard at the door was not the one she’d met before, but he stood aside as she gained admittance simply by inserting the badge that normally allowed admittance only to the lower worker-bee parts of the building. She went into the sacred precincts of upper management. Office doors were closed and a knock and then an attempt to enter each of them proved ineffectual until she got to the two on the end.
When she knocked, the door slid open and she found herself looking into Alexander Alston’s startled eyes. He looked as though he’d worked through the night, his face strained, dark smudges under his eyes as he looked at her over his keyboard. She found herself surprised only that he actually used his hands rather than his voice for work.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was hoping to see Jerry.”
He shook his head, even the motion full of weariness. “’Fraid not,” he said. “No sign of him so far. But perhaps you’d like to visit his office. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
He walked with her to a door near the end of the long hallway and, as the guard had done previously, stood aside while she was allowed automatic entry. Then, to her relief, he left her alone to explore Jerry’s territory.
She didn’t know if it was because he was a member of the family or that he had such an important job, but Jerry’s office was equal in every way to Zan’s with a big, polished walnut desk, comfortable chair upholstered in what looked like real leather, a wet bar, and a door that led to a sumptuous bathroom, complete with shower.
The only way that it was different was that it was better. Where Zan’s working quarters were elegant and Spartan, Jerry’s were rich with personal touches.
Colorful cushions brightened the window seat that looked out on the square, half a dozen action adventure novels with their bright covers, actual physical books, were scattered around the room and looked, by the bookmarks that stuck out from among the pages as though their owner had been in the process of reading several of them.
His desktop not only found room for the latest in working equipment, but an assortment of framed photos, clearly visible to the man working at that desk, but not in the way of his work.
She looked at them and saw a family group photo in which she recognized his parents and the aunt and uncle whom she’d met in Lavender during the Christmas visit. Another was of his cousin Betsy with her husband and two small children. An individual frame revealed a snapshot of another cousin, pretty teenager Sylvie who had loaned her room to Mac for that visit. Another was of Zan and an oval faced brown-eyed woman with a serious look, most likely Zan’s wife Edith, called by the family Eddie. Zan and his wife had not been present for the holiday, the family explaining that they were detained by urgent business.
There was even a picture of the semi-retired housekeeper, Mrs. Myers, who still lived with the family and her granddaughter, Dottie, who currently cooked for the family, though she did not live in.
Mac took on a warm feeling just to see these images of the family who had taken her in after a chance meeting with Jerry had led him to promise her an old fashioned Christmas.
Then her heart dropped. Jerry had taken several pictures of her during their outings, but her photo did not set on his desk. Maybe she wasn’t quite as important to him as she’d thought.
Instinctively she reached for her own phone and brought up the half a dozen photos she’d shot of the two of them. Her favorite was one of them at the Dallas zoo with a huge display of colorful parrots in the background behind them. Jerry was handing her a paper cup of something cool and refreshing and he smiled at her, the look in his eyes full of tenderness and affection, maybe even love, she thought.
Feeling almost sick with longing, she studied the muscular form. He looked more like a football quarterback than a runner, though he told her that was his favorite sport. His features were more like his father’s than his mother’s, a chiseled, high-cheeked boned look that could have been inherited from Oklahoma ancestors. But his eyes had the large, liquid brown look of sweet-faced Lynne Caldecott. They were kind eyes.
She avoided studying her own expression, reflected on the surface. She was afraid she’d discover that her face gave away too much of her feelings.
Putting the phone back in her pocket, she searched the office, finding much evidence of its occupant, but no indication of what had happened to him. Disappointed, she told herself she was being ridiculous. What had she expected, that he would leave a note for her?
She gave one last look around the room, hoping something significantly helpful would play through her mind later, then stepped out into the wide corridor, moving soundlessly down the deeply carpeted floor, nodding to the stoical guard as she departed.
More time had passed than she realized and it was nearly the hour to report for work. She s
topped by the bathroom for a quick look at herself in the mirror, found her hair in disarray, probably because she had a habit of running her fingers through it when thoughtful, and her face so pale that her eyes looked dark and sunken. She took out her little makeup kit and had started adding some color to her cheeks when a woman a few years older than herself, dressed in dark, plain clothing entered and came to stand behind her, her face seeming to loom in the mirror just back of her right shoulder.
“Quit primping. You’re pretty enough,” the woman, whom Mac didn’t remember ever seeing before, said as though being sarcastic. Mac started to turn to confront her, but even as she moved, she saw that the woman help a small gun in her hand. She barely heard it buzz before darkness fell, giving her no time to realize she’d been stunned.
She couldn’t have been unconscious long because when she woke up, she found she was being held up by two people. “A little fainting spell,” a man’s voice sounded next to her. “We’re going to have her checked out by the nurse.” He sounded genial and friendly and she was aware that the people going past her were streaming into work. She tried to call out a protest, to beg for help, but found she had no control over her own voice and could only make a faint and decidedly unattractive grunting sound.
Inside her mind, she shrieked, ‘I’m being kidnapped. Help me! Don’t let them take me out of the building.’ But only the wordless sounds emerged. The stunning had rendered her only briefly unconscious, but it had left her body limp and her mouth speechless.
‘Help! Help!’ she wanted to call, but she was virtually mute.
Then someone, a young woman’s voice right in front of her said, “But that’s McKinley. I work with her. Let me go with you.”
She felt both her abductors stiffen. They hadn’t expected that out of the thousands of people who worked in the building, they would run into someone who worked in a cubicle adjacent to her own. This girl was one of the few with whom she’d formed a speaking acquaintance since Christmas. Younger than herself, but a long way from home, McKinley had recognized her as homesick and gone out of her way to be friendly.
“Joy,” she gasped out the name. “Don’t . . .” It was all she could manage as her throat began to tighten, forcing her into silence.
“Don’t worry, Miss, we’ll see to her,” the female abductor said. “Her father is meeting us at the infirmary.”
Joy’s eyes widened and Mac was reminded of the family backgrounds they’d confided to each other over an occasional shared lunch. Joy knew she’d grow up in a children’s home and had no relatives. Still the woman who had her in charge seemed so sure of herself and Mac felt herself ushered past her friend toward the wide front doors just ahead.
Her hope of interference by the guards flared briefly, than faded as she remembered. Entrance was guarded, but not exit. Anyway these two must have badges or they wouldn’t have been able to get in.
Funny how her mind was sharp as always, maybe even stepped up a little, though her body seemed dysfunctional and her speech so limited. ‘Help!” she tried again to yell, but her throat was still closed.
She sensed people glancing curiously at her and the normal morning conversation going silent. Or maybe her ears had closed as well and she could no longer hear.
Now they were at the opening. Bright morning sunshine lay just ahead and she would be entirely in the control of the abductors. Most likely the same ones who had taken Jerry, she abruptly realized.
And then, she heard a shout and the sound of running feet. She could hear and she recognized that voice. Jerry’s cousin, Zan Alston shouted furiously. “Stop those people! Don’t let them get her out of the building!”
And the doorway filled with uniformed guards and the buzz of lazar fire sounded again and she saw two of the men at the doorway fall.
Others took their place, grabbing her abductors from either side so they were forced to release their grip on her and she found herself falling abruptly to the hard floor.
She closed her eyes as a tall figure leaned over her and she knew that everything would be all right now that Jerry’s cousin was in charge.
Chapter Three
She awakened slowly, though remembrance returned in a flash. She was being stolen from her own office building by the people who had most likely kidnapped Jerry. But, no, it was okay. Alexander Alston had come running in like the cavalry to the rescue in the old movies they used to show at the home when she was a kid.
She smelled bacon and something sweet and baked and her stomach rumbled. How could she be hungry after everything she’d gone through?
She managed to open her eyes and found herself lying in a faintly familiar room with pink roses papered on the walls and sunlight shining in through wide, many paned windows. Immediately she was flooded with memories of her last Christmas, the best she’d ever spent, when Jerry had brought her to the holiday resort of Lavender.
She lay in Sylvie’s bed in Lavender, but sunshine warmed the room and she knew months had passed since Christmas. She sat up, feeling warm and safe in the house on Crockett Street, and comforted that she once again controlled her own body and was able to step out of bed, a long nightgown swaying softly against her. It was only when the soles of her feet touched the woven rug that it all come back.
Jerry! Had they been able to find Jerry? Surely when Zan’s guards saved her and captured the abductors, they’d been able to learn where he was.
A tray of food waited on the little table next to the bed and, starving, she grabbed a piece of crisp bacon as she moved past, finding herself a little wobbly as she went to open the closed door. “Betsy?” she called down the hall. “Sylvie? How did I get here?”
Footsteps sounded, coming up the graceful stairway from the lower floor, and then teenaged Sylvie’s pretty face appeared at the head of the stairs.
“I thought you would never wake up,” she reproached cheerfully.
Mac didn’t take time to respond to that. One thought only occupied her mind. “Jerry? Is he all right?”
The cheer was wiped from the young face. “We still haven’t heard from Jerry,” Sylvie confessed.
Her heart dropped down to her toes and once again she couldn’t manage to speak, though this time the loss was caused by disappointment, not a buzz gun. She wobbled and would have fallen if the girl hadn’t run to her side and offered support, murmuring comfortingly as she led her back to sit on the bed where she’d slept.
“I’m all right. I just hoped . . .what did Zan, Mr. Alston say . . . how did I come to be here?” She couldn’t seem to collect her thoughts to form a reasonable question so that words just spilled out.
Looking concerned, Sylvie patted her shoulder. “Zan didn’t bring you.” she said.
“But why are any of you here in summer? Lavender is a Christmas resort! And how did I get here?”
“Resort?” Sylvie frowned in puzzlement.
“I brought you here,” another voice said and they both looked up to see a woman with short dark hair and a slim face standing in the doorway. Older than either of them, she looked to be late twenties or early thirties and Mac recognized her immediately from the photo she’d seen in Jerry’s office. She was in the picture with Zan. She was Alexander Alston’s wife.
Eddie Alston came over to stand next to Sylvie. “Lavender isn’t a resort, Miss Alva. It’s a community currently set over a hundred years back in time from the place where you live. My great-grandfather was the scientist who arranged the whole thing.”
The marvels of science that she read about online these days were such that Mac could almost believe what this woman was saying. Anyway that could be worked out later. Other matters were more important right now.
“You’re Zan’s wife. He sent you here with me?”
Eddie nodded.
“Then what did he tell you about those people who grabbed me? Did they say where Jerry is?”
She shook her head before saying gently. “They were just hired for the job. They not only didn’t kno
w anything about Jerry; they didn’t know who wanted you? They were simply supposed to drop you off near the big downtown shopping mall and vanish, having been well paid for the job.”
This wouldn’t hurt so much except that she’d begun to hope. Those minutes of terror when she’d been buzz shot, then dragged, helpless, through the building where she worked should have purchased something more than this.
“Zan’s doing everything he can to find him,” Eddie whispered softly.
Mac nodded and she saw that tears stood in Sylvie’s eyes. She wasn’t the only one who cared. The people here were his family and would help her to get him back safely. But with a second thought she realized she was in the middle of a mystery and didn’t know who she could trust. When these people spun impossible tales about time to cover something—she couldn’t imagine what—there had to be one big fat secret behind it all.
Gerald ‘Jerry’ Caldecott cradled his head in both hands and groaned. At first he thought somebody else was making that sound and then realized, without amusement, that he was doing it himself. His head ached abominably and not because he’d taken a blow. It was the drugs that made his head hurt and his mouth feel like it was filled with cotton.
These people didn’t need to rely on torture. They used subtler means and he wondered how much he’d told them.
Fortunately he didn’t know a whole heck of a lot. Once things began to heat up again about a year ago, Zan had ordered him pulled from the mainline of information, for his own good, his cousin’s husband had said.
“I lost one brother to this mess,” he’d said grimly. “I don’t intend to risk another.”
Of course Jerry wasn’t actually an Alston, not a blood relative to Zan. But since he’d been in his early teens he’d worked with the man whom he’d considered the most brilliant he’d ever met and while other people found the scientist hard-to-know, they had become good friends. Zan was in a way his brother, his best friend, his mentor.
Missing in Lavender: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas series Book 6) Page 2
