by Vella Day
“Craig, that's Susan's brother, said two men came to his house trying to sell him insurance. They were dressed in nice suits even. When he told them he wasn't interested, they barged in anyway and sedated him. When he came to, he was in the warehouse, tied down, blindfolded, and gagged.”
Maria's mouth gaped open, and she leaned back into the sofa, her mind obviously searching for some reasonable explanation. “I'm so sorry that happened to Susan, and to her brother. With the death of her best friend, I'm sure she's still reeling.”
“Yes, she is.” He guessed Peter hadn't told her about the fire or being chased in the woods.
Peter waved his nearly empty glass. “You're the goddamn FBI. There had to be tracks of some kind outside the building leading somewhere. Did you check the whole warehouse?”
“Of course. We even have Tom searching the plans now for some kind of escape tunnel.”
Peter spun around and took a seat next to Maria. “I'm sorry. I know your team has done everything possible to find Susan.”
Jake stood, his legs needing to rid his body of the agitation clawing at him. He paced while the other two stared off into space. He needed suggestions, needed support. The tension in the room was nearly choking him.
Jake stopped in front of Maria. “Did your father tell you how Dominick died?” He held his breath, fearing she didn't know about the circumstances of his death.
Her eyes widened briefly, and then she looked down at her fingers before entwining her hand through Peter's. “Yes, he said Dom was at a liquor store when a robber came in. When my brother tried to take the guy down, the man shot and killed him before escaping.”
Jesus. “Did you believe your dad?”
She glanced at Peter before returning her gaze to Jake. “What are you trying to say? That my brother was involved in something unethical and was murdered as a result?”
Jake planted his feet wide apart. “Close.” He wasn't sure how much she needed to know, but the only way Peter wouldn't hate him for life was if he gave her the needed background. “I'm not sure if you want to know what really happened. I was there when Dom died.”
Even Peter's eyes widened.
Her lips thinned, but her back straightened slightly. “I am aware my brother was no saint, but maybe it's time I take my head out of the sand. Tell me what he did. Father never would discuss his business or Dom's part in it.”
She leaned forward, her jaw clenched.
“Your brother was responsible for at least one of the deaths of the jurors who presided over Peter's father's trial.”
Her eyes lost their focus, and her cheeks sagged before a wistful smile lifted. “You know when he was home, he was a wonderful person.” She lifted her face to him. “I always knew he had a cruel streak, but do I believe he'd kill in cold blood? No. I don't believe you.”
Sad. Bursting someone's bubble hurt him almost as much as it would hurt her. Jake needed to better understand her relationship with Dominick. “And when your brother was not home? Did you know anything about where he went, what he did?” Or was she left totally in the dark?
“Not really.” She bit her bottom lip. “I never wanted to know. Oh, I asked, but I might as well have tried to steal the gold out of Fort Knox.” She locked her gaze with his. “Tell me straight. It's time I learn the truth about my family. I've heard stories, but Dad said they were lies.”
Jake decided it best to leave out the part about her father bringing in women from Russia and Eastern Europe to sell them into prostitution. “A man by the name of Ronnie Stenoff tried to kill me when Susan and we were hiding out in my friend's cabin in West Virginia.” He tapped his leg. “He stabbed me, but I managed to escape through an underground tunnel that lead us into the woods. Your brother caught up with us and held Susan at gunpoint. I was off talking with Ronnie when he took her. She screamed, and when I came up behind him, he swung around, shot at me and missed, thank God. That's when I took him down.”
He expected her to scream or toss out some accusations. Instead she nodded. “He would have killed her?”
She believed him. His relief weakened his legs. “Yes.”
“Then he deserved to die.” Her voice came out flat, distant, and empty.
“I agree.”
Discussing Dom's death wouldn't get him any closer to finding Susan. He squatted in front of Maria to get her attention. “How angry was your father when he learned Dom had died?”
She wiped a tear from her face. “I never saw him cry, if that's what you're asking.”
“Did he call the police to find out what happened? Demand retribution for the person who killed his son?” Did he want to come after me?
“I don't think so. He said he received a call late at night. I was working the late shift and didn't find out about Dom until early the next morning. He must have come to grips with the death by then.”
“Or knew something bad could happen to his son at any moment and had expected the call for years,” Jake mumbled.
“Maybe.”
She dropped her face into her hands, and Peter rubbed circles on her back. When she looked up, red streaked her cheeks. “When he told me about Dom, he seemed more angry than distraught. But I saw hope in his eyes too. I can't explain it.”
Hope? “And your sister-in-law? How did she take her husband's death?”
“Helena?” Maria wiped her cheeks dry. “Upset, of course, but I think she was a little bit relieved, though she'd never tell me that. From my prospective, Dom mentally abused her, and had since the day they were married. She did whatever he told her to do. The only time she was happy was when he was out of town.”
Not surprising, killers weren't able to live double lives very well. Someone had to pay the price. “I kind of figured your father would be out for my head.” His fists tightened.
Peter took a long drink. “Why? Because you killed his only son? The person he'd groomed to take over the business?”
To the point Peter. “Yeah, something like that.”
Peter squeezed Maria's hand. “Sweetheart, we've got to get inside the Francisco compound and look for Susan.”
Relief nearly drained him. Peter understood where he was heading with his line of questions.
She jerked her hand out of his grasp, and Jake backed out of the way.
“You think my father had something to do with kidnapping the man in the wheelchair and taking Susan?”
“Think about it,” Peter said. “Someone framed me for that juror's death. Maybe your father knows about us.”
Her gaze shifted right, then left. “No way. I've been really careful. He couldn't know.”
Jake didn't need to get in the middle of a debate. “If he is innocent, Maria, then he shouldn't mind us taking a quick look around the place. Not Peter, of course. Just me and a few of my men.”
She jumped off the sofa and raced over to the wet bar, her trembling back to them. She picked up a glass and twirled it around before placing it back down. She faced them. “Okay, but if I let you in, Dad will want to know how you even knew me. I can't exactly introduce you as Peter's friend.”
Jake tapped his injured thigh and tossed her an easy smile. “We'll say you were my nurse in the hospital when my stab wound became infected. Do you think your father knows about Ronnie Stenoff's arrest?”
When she quirked a brow, he explained again. “Dom's partner?” Had she even understood his explanation?
“Right. Partner.” She glanced over at Peter. “How about if I bring Jake home as my new boyfriend?”
“No. If he's been following this mess, he'll know who I am.”
She pressed her lips together. “I'll give you the code to the gate. You can come at night when Dad's asleep and look around. I'll draw you a sketch of the rooms. He doesn't even have to know you've been inside.” She picked up her purse, took out a large set of keys, and unhooked one of them. “This gets you into the back door, but please be quiet.”
Her action was more than he'd expected. He took the
key. “Thank you. You nor your father will know we've been there.”
“If I thought you'd find anything, I wouldn't let you in. I'm sure my father didn't take Susan. I've been all over the house.”
While he'd never been to the Francisco household, he'd seen online photos of the estate. There was more than one building on the premise. “Are the other buildings locked?”
“The storage shed might be, but I don't have a key. I know the large garage that houses the antique cars is locked and only Dad has the combination.”
Entry into the house was more than he'd hoped, but the possibility he'd keep Susan hostage in the main building where his grandchildren or daughter could find her was slim. Still, he had to try.
He waved the key. “I'll leave this outside the back door when I leave.”
“Dad stays up late. I'll turn off the alarm at two a.m., and I'll reset the system at four. Will that give you and your team enough time to search?”
“Plenty.”
**
Susan woke up, groggy and disoriented. Her teeth had stopped chattering and her shoulders weren't shivering. The full realization hit her. Her body wasn't able to keep her warm anymore, which meant she was going to die soon.
If she didn't attempt to get out of this hellhole, she'd never see Jake again—or her mother or brother. Her father always praised her ability never to quit, and she wouldn't let him down now.
Only nothing would move. She squeezed her eyes shut and imagined lifting her feet and wiggling her fingers. Straining to move the dead limbs, she twisted her head back and forth.
That's it. Move the head, then work my way down my body.
Little by little, circulation returned here and there, but the pain burned through her blood. She was able to rock a little. Eventually, she managed to shrug her shoulders. Better, much better. Her toes wouldn't respond, but she kept active the parts that would move.
She bent her knees and almost cried out from the effort. In what seemed like hours, she put each body part in motion, except for her toes.
The handle above her head jangled, and her breath stopped in her throat. The door opened and silhouetted against the house light stood a man. She blinked to see his face, but the shadow obscured his features. The cold air stabbed at her body, and she bucked to roll over.
“What the hell?” he said.
28
Stanton motioned for Pritchard to check Francisco's shed and for Dalton to search the barn with the antique cars. Stanton and he would look through the main house.
Once Jake unlocked the back door, they slipped on gloves and surgical booties. They didn't need to leave traces of dirt and snow throughout the house, announcing someone had been there. He didn't think Maria was leading them into a trap, but to be sure, they withdrew their weapons. One never knew when Joseph Francisco would decide to come down for a midnight snack.
They'd already figured out who would search where. With strong-beamed lights in hand, they combed both floors. Jake took the second floor. He'd memorized which rooms belonged to Joseph, Helena, the two kids, and Maria. While the mansion was large, there wasn't much to search up there, other than a few hall closets.
Maria had told him the attic entrance was through the master bedroom—in Joseph's room. He'd wake Francisco for sure if went past his bed and pulled down the attic door. Until they found proof Susan had been there, they wouldn’t be able to get a warrant to search all of the premises. While they had two hours, Jake didn't need more than fifteen minutes to be convinced she wasn't upstairs. He joined Stanton downstairs in the den.
“Anything?” Jake kept his voice low.
“Desk's locked, but no.”
They'd already looked through the kitchen when they arrived. “I didn't expect he'd keep her here. Let's see what the other two are up to.”
Stanton led the way. Jake locked the back door and placed the key next to the mat, as promised.
He stuffed the surgical boots in his pocket, and as he took off toward the back of the property, the cold air raced down his throat and nearly stole his breath. If Susan were outside in this mess, she wouldn't last long. He guessed the temp was nearing twenty degrees.
A garden shed, the large garage, a pool house, and accompanying cabana, were the only other buildings on the property.
“You take the pool house,” Jake said, and Stanton took off toward the garden shed.
Jake met up with the other two agents. The moonlight was enough to show neither had found her. Damn it. Desperation clawed at him. Joseph Francisco was guilty. He knew it. Only where was he keeping her?
The pool house was unlocked, lessening the chance he'd find her there. But if the purpose of the kidnapping had been to lure him out in the open, Susan would be kept unharmed, and that fact kept him sane.
Maria had shut off the alarms for two hours, but did one system go for all buildings? Damn. He should have thought to ask.
Jake was as quiet as possible when he searched the closets as well as any piece of furniture large enough to hold a person captive.
“Anything?”
Jake swiveled around, his pulse racing. Stanton. “No.”
“Let's regroup.”
Shit. Where had he taken her?
**
Joseph stood at his bedroom window with a smile on his face. Jake Yarnell was smart, but he'd never find Susan. Oh, he'd see her all right, but only when he wanted to her to be seen. He wanted Yarnell tormented, knowing he was helpless to help her. Ripping someone out of your arms was akin to death. He knew that when Dom had been taken from him. He wasn't even sure he wanted to live anymore.
But he did have a replacement—his own flesh and blood to take Dominick's place. Maybe he'd even let James help decide how long to keep Yarnell on the edge. When Yarnell reached that certain level of desperation, he'd give the man a call and tell him how to find the girl. He never would come out and say if he'd kept her alive.
Speaking of calls, he needed to make one. It was time to move Susan. Then he'd decide how he would punish Maria for turning against him.
**
Remaining still, Susan let her senses react to the surroundings that were fresh, perfumed, and wonderfully warm. She remembered someone picking her up from that horrible place and carrying her into a house, but she couldn't visualize what the man looked like other than he had strong arms. It hadn't been Jake, she'd been sure of that, but who was he?
Had the kidnapper dumped her in some random shed and her banging had alerted the owner? That explanation seemed to be the only logical one, but why hadn't her rescuer called 9-1-1. He had to have noticed she was naked and possibly assaulted. She hadn't been raped, if the lack of burning between her thighs was any indication, but from the stitches on her face and her exposure to the freezing cold, he had to understand she needed help.
She was inside now, and that's all that mattered. Or had she had been checked out by a paramedic and declared okay without her knowledge? If so, wouldn't they keep her overnight at a hospital for observation? Since she didn't have any identification on her, the hospital should notify the police. The FBI surely would have put some kind of alert on her disappearance, and once Jake learned where she was, he'd come running. Her breath slowed and her stomach calmed.
But only for a moment. What if there had been no medic, no police to ask her questions, and most importantly, no Jake?
She wiggled her butt. A soft mattress was underneath her and lots of blankets on top. With her bonds cut, her muscles slowly relaxed. She rubbed her wrists and met bandages. Her savor must have doctored her. She wiggled her feet, but the circulation still hadn't returned. Despite the added comfort, cold was deeply imbedded in her pours. She doubted she'd ever be warm again.
She scanned the rather large room. Dawn was streaming in through luxurious sheer curtains. This might not be heaven, but she was sure the mysterious place was nearby.
There were two twin beds, a desk and a comfortable seating area. Given the personal pictures on the walls
, she wasn't in a hotel room, so where was she?
She took one more sweep of the room, hoping there'd be a phone. No luck. Damn it. She needed to let Jake know she was safe. Crap. She didn't even know his number. If she ever got the chance, she'd call 9-1-1 and have them patch her through to the FBI.
Using her elbows to push up, Susan dragged her body to a sitting position. The sheet fell down, exposing her chest. She glanced down. Someone had draped her in a men's shirt, starched and smelling of lemons. Her fingers shot to her hips and met soft flannel. She lifted the covers. Men's pajama bottoms. Glory be.
Who was this man? And why hadn't he come in to see how she was doing? The room's light was growing stronger, so surely, he'd be in soon.
Susan dragged her legs off the side of the bed and placed her feet on the floor but couldn't sense the thick carpet. Once she warmed up, she'd get feeling back in her legs. Right? Her belly soured at the thought she might lose some appendage from exposure. Using her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed her thigh and yelped at the sharp sensation. As she worked her way down her leg, the numbness increased. At least her knees had blood flow.
Move. Check out the place.
Given the height of the trees outside the window, she was at least on the second floor. Escape out the window was not an option. Then again, why escape until after she had spoken with the owner to find out his intent?
Not sure if she could stand, she held onto the bedpost as she lifted up. Her knees buckled and one knee smacked the floor. Shit. Her hand loosened from the post, and she caught herself before she did a face plant. Not good.
She decided crawling was her safest option. The door wasn't more than twelve feet away. She could make it that far.
Susan crawled across the room, reached up, and twisted the knob.
It was locked. Why? She didn't like the implication, but she wanted to believe the worst was over, and that she just didn't have enough facts to draw the right conclusion.
