Lost and Found

by Tamara Larson

  She seemed to be waiting for his exclamation of disbelief, so he tried to sound suitably shocked. “No way. Not thirteen. If I didn’t know better I would have said you were twenty, maybe twenty-one. Was he blind?” She smiled brightly at that and he beamed back at her. “Seriously, I understand why you wouldn’t want to talk to Evelyn, but we have to at least let her know you’re all right?”

  She looked at him like he’d struck her. “But that won’t be enough for her. She’ll come here and take me back. You know she will.” Theresa said morosely.

  He did know that and suspected Theresa was right. Their grandmother would come. He hadn’t been thinking clearly last night. After all, Evelyn was Theresa’s legal guardian. He was actually violating the law by keeping her here without at least informing Theresa’s grandmother. If Evelyn found out, she wouldn’t hesitate to slap kidnapping charges on him and his career would be over. “I’m afraid that’s the chance we’ll have to take. I could get into a lot of trouble for keeping you here,” he said ominously, not wanting to get into specifics.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, putting her face back on her crossed arms. Her voice was muffled when she said, “I can’t go back there. Everyone knows she paid him twenty thousand dollars to stay away from me. That’s how much I’m worth. I gave him everything, and all it took was the price of a Volkswagen Beetle to get him to abandon me.”

  Duncan didn’t want to know what ‘everything’ entailed, but he suspected it was more than her heart. He decided to focus on the money. Actually, twenty grand didn’t sound like very much to him either. According to Kerry, Evelyn had offered her a half million dollars to move away without talking to Duncan again. Wouldn’t inflation affect bribes as well? Or maybe Evelyn had shrewdly figured that it wouldn’t take much to discourage Cameron. He wasn’t going to share that theory with Theresa though.

  “I’m really sorry all this has happened to you Theresa, but we’ve got to call her,” he said, standing up and walking over to the massive wall hutch that separated the kitchen from the dining room. He picked up the phone again and scrambled through the papers on the desk, looking for Evelyn’s number. He didn’t trust Theresa to give him the correct one.

  He was so busy leaning over the desk and digging through his scraps that he didn’t hear her get up. She was directly behind him when she said quietly, “I meant it. What I said last night. I’ll run away. This time no one will find me.”

  Duncan turned to look at her. Her arms were crossed and her tears were gone. She was dead serious and the direct gaze told him that she knew she had him over the proverbial barrel. He was actually impressed until he realized that he was the one being manipulated. “Theresa, that’s not fair. I’ve tried to help you here and this is how you’re going to pay me back? By blackmailing me?” He asked angrily.

  “I have no choice, Duncan. I’m not going back there,” Theresa said with a shrug of her delicate shoulders. “I didn’t want to bring you into this, but I trusted you last night when you said you wanted me to come stay with you.” Her tone wavered slightly, but she carried through on delivering her trump card. “Are you going to betray me too?”

  Duncan didn’t know what to say to that. She clearly had all the cards and wasn’t afraid to play them to get her way. Vaguely he wondered how a seventeen-year-old managed to get the best of him when he was immune to the manipulations of criminals. She was more like their grandmother than he would have ever suspected by looking at her angelic exterior. “I’m not betraying you. I’m just trying to do what’s right,” he said, setting down the phone firmly.

  Theresa watched him hang up and then ran to him, wrapping her arms exuberantly around his waist. She squeezed him tightly and said against his chest, “Oh thank you Duncan. I’m so sorry I had to be so nasty about this. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I really don’t. I just can’t deal with her anymore.” Her voice broke and she suddenly sounded very young. Duncan felt his heart melt as he patted her awkwardly on the back.

  He was reminded of one of the last times he’d seen her. It had been her sixth birthday party and his grandmother had hired a clown for the occasion. At eighteen, Duncan had been pressured to attend, and he and Kevin had snuck some beers in under their jackets. Pleasantly sloshed, they’d laughed at the clown’s acrobatics on the thick green lawn, and balloon animal creations that all looked like poodles. They hadn’t even noticed that Theresa cringed every time the clown came within ten feet of her. When Pennywise attempted to pick up the birthday girl for a pony ride, she’d screamed shrilly, bashed the painted face directly in the red nose, and ran tearfully into Duncan’s unsteady arms.

  Looking down at her fuzzy yellow head now, he felt like her last hope for salvation, just like that day eleven years ago. Maybe if he took a few days to concoct some kind of plan, Evelyn wouldn’t swoop down on them like a flying monkey when she discovered he had Theresa. If he talked to a lawyer and found out his rights where Theresa was concerned, and had her registered for the Fall Semester, maybe the old woman could be convinced to let Theresa stay. It was unlikely their grandmother would mildly give up her rights to the girl, but he had to try. He didn’t want Theresa to end up a missing person again, and it was clear that the only way she would stay with Evelyn was if she was put under house arrest. He couldn’t bear to see her spirit stomped on like that.

  Theresa looked at him and grinned through her tears. “Hey, if I’m staying, maybe we should do something about my wardrobe. Want to go shopping?”

  Duncan couldn’t imagine anything worse, but it gave him a perfect excuse to go to Jessie’s shop and make sure she was all right. “Sure,” he said casually, moving away from her to start clearing the table. “But let’s start at that bookstore you were telling me about last night. It sounds interesting.”

  “Cool,” Theresa said, and ran off to her room to change.

  “Cool,” Duncan muttered to himself as he placed the heavy black frying pan in the sink, noting that she hadn’t bothered to even offer to help with the dishes. Apparently, acting as maid and cook was included in the big brother job description.

  Chapter 17

  Diego Savares sat at the coffee shop patio across from Forgotten Treasures. He was enjoying a cappuccino and waiting for Theresa to make a re-appearance, when he spotted Jamie leave the store. Theresa had dragged him there to check out the books a few nights before and he was currently watching for her. Eventually, she would come back to visit and he would be there to have a little chat with her about repaying debts and abandoning the people who kindly offered assistance. He had unfinished business with that particular little blond whore and no one was going to get in the way of that, including that pretty boy cop who had taken her away from him.

  Diego eyed the redhead distastefully as she walked away from him. Several men she passed turned to stare at her swaying buttocks, but Diego just shook his head in bewilderment. She was so obvious, so overtly sexual. He couldn’t see why other men gawked at her so. He preferred his women much more demure, not to mention much younger. He liked them before they took on that bold, independent defiance that enraged him and made him feel intimidated—like less than a man.

  While watching the red-headed woman’s retreating back, Diego realized that she looked familiar. There was something distinctive about the confident stride and faintly belligerent upturned chin that annoyed him on sight. He knew her from somewhere. Then, it occurred to him. She was one of the dancers from the club. And she seemed to frequent the store where Theresa had spent her spare time. Was it possible that she had been the one to identify the girl to that cop? Diego’s quick mind flew ahead like a dog on a scent. Hadn’t he seen another woman with the cop last night? A nervous-looking red-head who looked like the stripper, but somewhat less sluttish? A sister, perhaps?

  Diego set down the paper he’d been hiding behind and left his half-drunk coffee on the table. He had a hunch to explore.

  *****

  Jessie smiled at the dark-haired man who e
ntered the store. He was tall and broad shouldered and for just an instant she had thought he was Duncan. Her heart had leaped with an odd mixture of elation and nerves until she realized that it wasn’t him. Instead of Duncan’s close-cropped, silky locks, this man had very long, thick dark hair parted in the middle and a distinctly unfriendly look on his face. She also couldn’t imagine Duncan wearing his jeans so tight or a shiny purple shirt unbuttoned to reveal a greasy mass of abundant curls either. The large, hawkish beak was nothing like Duncan’s aristocratic blade of a nose either. Jessie wondered briefly if she’d spend the rest of her life comparing every man she encountered to Duncan.

  This man’s thin lips did not smile back at her and she felt a slight uneasiness overtake her. She suddenly felt very vulnerable on her own. She was alone in the store with this huge, hostile man who was staring at her intently as he made his way across the floor to her.

  Her smile fled, but she managed to choke out her usual chipper greeting. “Can I help you find something?” He didn’t answer, just looked around the store while moving fluidly in her direction. He noted the phone on the cashier’s desk and an unpleasant grin cracked his face. It was not an engaging expression. More like a smirk acknowledging that he was between her and the phone. Without even being aware she was doing it, Jessie moved behind a stack of boxes so they were between her body and that of the oncoming stranger.

  When he stood less than three feet away, he finally spoke in a low, threatening, faintly accented voice. “I’m looking for a girl.”

  Jessie knew who he was. She should have known the moment he entered the store, but she hadn’t seriously thought Diego would figure out she was responsible for identifying Theresa. How could he? Then she remembered that Clay had said someone had been with Theresa the other night. Was it possible the man in front of her now had figured it out from that? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. She wanted him out of her store immediately. “What girl?” She asked innocently.

  Diego bridged the distance between them in a flash, knocking boxes out of his way effortlessly. His arm shot out with unnatural speed to grip her chin tightly before she had time to retreat. He squeezed cruelly as he brought her face closer to him. “You know exactly what girl I mean,” he hissed, his stale breath brushing her face. He put his other hand behind her neck and gave her a little shake as he lifted her up on her toes. “Now, where is she?”

  Jessie had never encountered anything like this before. It was completely beyond her experience. In her safe, quiet world, madmen did not enter her store and handle her like she was a side of beef. She wanted to fight him, wanted to make him let go of her, but she was just too scared. All she could do was stall until someone came in.

  Jessie grabbed his wrist with both hands and tried to get him to loosen his grip. She dug in her nails, but it was useless. He just slid his hand from her chin to her throat and gave it a playful squeeze to urge her to speak. “If you’re talking about my sister,” Jessie gasped. “She’ll be back in just a few minutes. She just went for bagels, I swear.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. She looked up at him beseechingly, fighting the urge to beg. Up close his nearly black eyes were bloodshot and void of any human emotion.

  “No, I’m not talking about your punta of a sister. I’m talking about that other whore. My whore,” Diego said, increasing the pressure around Jessie’s neck until she saw stars and thought she might just faint dead away at his feet. She tried to kick him, but he just chuckled darkly and brought her closer to his body.

  Jessie became aware of something bad. Not only was Diego quite capable of hurting her, he was enjoying it. He was smiling as he choked her, and she could also feel something hard against her hip when he brushed her body with his. The sensation was distinctly unpleasant and she tried to angle her body as far away from him as possible. He laughed and moved the hand around the back of her neck to her opposite hip, bringing her flush against him.

  Jessie pushed against his chest to gain some distance, but he just gave an oily bark of laughter and squeezed her hip painfully. Jessie felt tears flood her eyes. If she didn’t distract him soon, something terrible was going to happen here. “Theresa. That’s who you mean?” she choked out.

  “Finally you stop playing games with me, ma carazone.” His nose touched the side of her face and she felt like retching. “Yes, Theresa. Where is she? Where did your faggot boyfriend take her?” Diego loosened his grip on her throat long enough for her to take her first full lungful of air in what felt like several minutes. She began coughing and he looked at her distastefully and shifted away from her to avoid being sprayed with spittle. She coughed more. Distasteful was better than that calculating sensual awareness she’d seen in his eyes before.

  “She’s on her way to Toronto,” she choked out. “He’s putting her on a plane back to her grandmother. You’re too late.” He flung his hands away from her and Jessie stumbled to her knees. He glared at her, breathing heavily and then began kicking the boxes surrounding them viciously, scattering books and papers all over the floor.

  Jessie covered her face and listened to the destruction around her. He was cursing in Spanish and breaking whatever he could get his hands on. Lamps, tables, chairs…everything she’d purchased to make the store more comfortable and pleasant for her clientele. She fought the need to vomit.

  Vaguely, she became aware that he was moving down the aisle toward the Victorian erotica section—Theresa’s favorite. Jessie stood up on shaky legs that nearly collapsed under her. Cautiously listening for the approach of his footsteps, she moved quickly and quietly toward the cashier’s desk twenty feet away from where she stood. Diego spotted her just as she reached it and roared, “You bitch,” and came charging toward her like an angry bull.

  Jessie screamed. She couldn’t help it, it was a completely involuntary response. Somehow she managed to find the large, red emergency button under the counter and press it with trembling fingers before he reached her. The system they had installed sent a signal to the alarm company, but it also gave off a shrill external alarm loud enough to startle her.

  Diego skidded to a stop in mid-run and shook a fist at her from the middle of the floor. “Don’t think this is done,” he shouted over the din. “I’ll be back to finish our dance.” He smiled wickedly at her and then made a lewd circling motion with his tongue. Jessie shuddered in disgust.

  Her aversion just seemed to incite him more. He casually picked up the peach roses in the large Waterford crystal vase Jessie had bought for them yesterday and threw them toward the stained glass window over the entrance. It was an excellent shot. Green and purple glass, crystal and roses rained down onto the hardwood floors as Diego spit energetically in Jessie’s direction and then ran toward the door with his arms over his head to protect it from falling shards. “Later, sweetheart,” he called affectionately over his shoulder as he slammed the door behind him.

  Jessie sunk to the floor behind the counter and stayed there. She knew she should get up and lock the door behind Diego, in case he decided to come back, but she couldn’t get her limbs to cooperate. The best she could do was not curl herself into a ball and die from fright and shock right there among the abandoned paper clips and dust bunnies. So instead she sobbed—huge, shoulder-shaking, gasping-for-breath sobs. Partly she cried because he’d thoughtlessly destroyed the window she’d had made in her mother’s honor, but a mostly she cried in reaction to how close she’d come to being really hurt, or worse.

  Before today it had been unthinkable for someone to willfully do something so evil to her. Things like this happened in movies, maybe on the news. They didn’t happen to her. She’d never done anything to warrant such an attack, and yet he’d just walked in here and took her sense of security from her. Because he felt like it.

  She didn’t know how she would work alone here after this. Every time the door opened, every time a man entered the store, she would have to fight her panic. All because she’d attempted to help Duncan find his sister
.

  At the thought of Duncan, Jessie stopped crying. The police would be here soon. When the alarm company couldn’t get through to a real person, they’d immediately notify the police, but a few police officers wouldn’t be enough to make her feel better. An entire battalion of Navy Seals couldn’t comfort her after what had just happened. She needed Duncan. Here, with her now.

  On trembling legs, she managed to raise her body from the floor. Leaning heavily on the counter, she reached into her purse for the cell phone she never used but Jamie insisted she carry. Shakily, she lifted the tiny silver phone to her ear. She couldn’t hear the dial tone over the shriek of the alarm, so she walked on rubbery legs to the control pad beside the door, glass crunching under her navy blue Keds, and punched in the code to turn the alarm off.

  The silence was a balm to Jessie’s stretched nerves. When she was able to get a signal, she nearly wept in relief. For a moment there, she’d thought she was trapped in a horror movie and the phone would be dead. She reached for Duncan’s card on the cash register and dialed while sliding down the front of the cashier’s counter to the floor.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Reinhold,” he said.

  Her voice was breathy and unsteady, but she managed to say, “Duncan, it’s me Jessie.”

  Duncan’s relief was audible. “Oh my God, Jessie. Are you all right? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning.” He sounded somewhat put out, like he was angry she’d been out of touch.

  “No, I’m not all right,” she said in a tiny voice nothing like her own. “I’m really not. Can you come?” She kicked glass out of the way so she could stretch out her still trembling legs.

  “Jessie, what is it? Where are you?” He asked urgently, no longer put out, but sounding genuinely panicked.

  “I’m at the store. Diego was here.” Her voice broke and she began crying again, hiccupping loudly into the receiver.