Stolen

by Carey Baldwin

  Life is short.

  To hell with convention.

  I love you.

  And he wasn’t wrong about life being short. When the Thresher had taken her captive, back in Dallas, hers had nearly been cut even shorter. Since the proposal, she couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d felt that day. How she’d been frightened of the horrible death the maniac had planned for her, but even more terrified by the thought of never being able to see Spense’s face again, feel his arms around her—missing out on the life she wanted to live with him by her side.

  “Caitlin?” Grady broke in to her reverie and brought her back to the moment.

  Had she done the right thing by meeting him here?

  She’d come alone to Coffee and Conversation to set Grady straight. Even though she’d wanted to tell Spense about what had happened in that dress shop yesterday, she knew that if he found out Grady tried to buy her lingerie, it would only make everything worse.

  The last thing anybody needed was for Spense to explode again.

  Grady would probably threaten to press charges against him—but she wasn’t so worried about that. She had something of her own to hold over Grady this time. Something she could use against him without jeopardizing either the investigation or her ethical obligations.

  What did scare her, however, was the idea that next time, Spense might not stop with a one-two punch. And if Grady wound up in the hospital, or worse, that really could spell the end of Spense’s career. She took a deep breath and a seat across the booth from Grady. Her skin itched as though bugs were crawling up her arms, but she knew it was in all her head. That was just the skeevies she got whenever she was anywhere near Grady.

  “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere quieter?” he asked.

  “You mean like your place, or a bar? No thanks.” Caitlin glanced around the Coffee and Conversation café. Its generous supply of patrons, some with their noses buried in books, some working on their laptops, some slurping and looking around expectantly as if hoping for a chance encounter, made her confident in her decision.

  She was safe here.

  Grady was far too concerned about appearances to make a scene.

  It was the perfect spot to lay down the law.

  Grady lifted his arm and motioned the waitress over. “Our beverages must be getting cold by now. Isn’t that my order on the counter?”

  “Sorry, I just got back from my break. I’ll bring them right over, and if they’re cold just let me know, and I’ll warm them up.”

  As she hurried away, he returned his attention to Caitlin. “I don’t remember you being quite so full of yourself, dear.”

  The waitress returned just in time to hear Grady’s insulting remark. Wordlessly, she set a cup of coffee in front of Grady and a cup of tea in front of Caitlin then hightailed it out of there.

  Smart lady.

  Caitlin wished she could get up and follow her.

  “I ordered you passion tea. As I recall, it’s your favorite.” Grady clanked his spoon against his coffee cup while he stirred in the cream. “Want some?”

  “Cream? Yes.” She added the cream and took a sip of the warm liquid, then forced herself to smile. “It’s good.”

  “I know what you like, Caitlin, and I aim to please. I just want you to be happy.”

  Happy? More like nauseated. But she might as well start out civilly, because things were going to get bumpy soon enough. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “When you called, it was a delightful surprise.” He reached his arm across the table and opened his hand.

  She stared at it a moment in disbelief. Surely he didn’t expect her to take it.

  “I’m hoping this means you’ve realized you misjudged me.”

  “For heaven’s sake, you’re trying to hold my hand right now. I haven’t misjudged you.”

  “There you go again, misinterpreting.”

  She leaned forward and met his eyes.

  He leaned in, too.

  Nobody blinked.

  “Grady, this is not a date. I asked you to meet me here because I have something to tell you. I’m no longer your protégée.”

  “Of course not, dear.”

  “And I’m neither stupid nor naïve. When a man makes advances, I know it.”

  He threw back his head and let out a small laugh. “If you’re implying that I’ve made unsolicited advances toward you, you’re delusional.”

  “You might be adept at convincing your patients that they’re imagining things, but your tactics won’t work on me.”

  “Aren’t you going to finish your tea?”

  She picked up the cup, sipping and weighing her words. She needed to be crystal-clear, because she’d be damned if she was going to allow him to continue down this same path. She set her tea down with enough determination to make some of it slosh onto the saucer. “You will not follow me into any more bathrooms. You will not follow me into any more shops. You will not attempt to give me any more gifts.”

  “The way you’re acting . . . I wouldn’t dream of it.” He made a tsk tsk noise with his disgusting lips. “Frankly, I feel sorry for Agent Spenser. You haven’t aged well, Caitlin. You’ve turned into a bitch.”

  “Fabulous. Then it won’t be difficult for you to stay away from me.”

  “Not in the least.”

  “If you step out of line again. If you bring up our past relationship. If you so much as smile at me from across the way, or show up anywhere near me—”

  “What am I supposed to do? Follow you around so I know where not to go?”

  “Not my problem, Grady.” She stood up and slapped a ten on the tabletop. “Come anywhere near me again, or try to make any complaint against Spense, and I’ll press charges against you for stalking.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. No one will believe you.”

  “They will. And I have a witness who heard you sexually harassing me about my breasts. I’m not the least bit intimidated by you. I’ll be delighted to be the woman who finally holds you accountable for your bad behavior.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Caitlin, but you could use a little makeup.”

  Her fists bunched at her sides. Then she relaxed them and touched her hand to her forehead. She was surprised by how damp it felt.

  She was perspiring, and a bit dizzy—that’s how worked up this infuriating man had gotten her. He wasn’t even going to acknowledge her warning. But she knew he’d heard her. His reputation meant everything to him.

  He’d never risk it.

  “Try something besides Chapstick on your lips, why don’t you. You look as though you’re auditioning for a part in The Walking Dead.”

  His remarks didn’t deserve a reply.

  She slipped her purse over her shoulder and walked, with her head held high, out of the coffee shop.

  Outside, she paused and drew a few long breaths of the night air.

  She patted her stomach—the acidity of the tea disagreed with her.

  In fact she wasn’t feeling in the least well.

  Too bad the parking garage was several blocks away.

  She turned onto a side street.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  Her head was swimming from the nausea.

  This was more than the effects of hot tea on an empty stomach.

  Her gut contracted, and she doubled over from the cramp.

  Behind her, the footsteps grew faster, louder.

  She jerked her body back to a stand.

  It was time to make a run for it.

  Chapter 43

  Monday, October 28

  7:20 P.M.

  Outside Coffee and Conversation

  Denver, Colorado

  Before Caitlin could make her legs move, someone grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the pavement. The tight pressure of the arm across her upper abdomen squeezed the wind out of her.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She could only kick her
feet, all the while making airless gasps like a fish waiting to be clubbed over the head and gutted. The dim evening turned to blackest night. Pain and confusion blinded her to her surroundings. If only she could catch her breath, she’d scream. There must be someone nearby to hear.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Caitlin?” A man growled the words into her ear.

  Grady.

  The sound of his voice did wonders for her—it cleared her head and restored her will to fight. His breath stank of booze. He must’ve been drinking earlier. She butted her head back and felt her scalp bang against his teeth. Her ears rang from the impact.

  “Christ, Caitlin!”

  Grady’s arm loosened, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Put me down or I’ll scream.” Then reason returned, and she screamed without waiting for his response. “Help! Somebody help me!”

  His hand clamped over her mouth. “Shut up, you stupid bitch. I’m trying to help you. You’re stumbling around on the street like a drunken whore. What the hell are you on?”

  She didn’t know.

  But the way the world was spinning out of control she was definitely on something. And Grady sounded . . . pissed off . . . and confused. Sincere. For a split second, her body relaxed in his arms, but then she remembered: this was Grady.

  Master manipulator.

  He could persuade a drowning man to open his mouth lest he die of thirst.

  Again, she reared her head back, but the more she struggled the more his grip tightened around her. She felt his powerful fingers digging into her flesh like gloved talons. Again, she screamed, but this time his hand already covered her mouth, silencing her. Somehow, she got one of her legs between his thighs and wrapped one foot around his ankle. He stumbled, and she nearly freed herself.

  Her feet touched the pavement.

  She pulled in more breaths.

  Her vision was blurry, but not as dark now.

  Up ahead, she saw a shadowy figure. The walls of an alley seemed to be closing in on her. Had Grady carried her here, or had she turned into an alley before he came up behind her?

  She couldn’t remember.

  “Caitlin, Caitlin, Caitlin.” That boozy breath and the gloved hand suffocated her. “I’m going to remove my hand, but please don’t scream. It’s me. Grady. I’d never hurt you, you know that.”

  His hand relaxed over her lips.

  She bit down hard, tasting leather and reveled in the crunch of his bony fingers.

  “Whore!” He dropped her feet fully on the ground and spun her around. His expression was black as the night. He released her waist, drew back his fist . . . and belted her in the face.

  Bastard.

  She raised her knee and drove it square into his groin.

  He grabbed her by the hair. Dragged her down the alleyway.

  Her scalp was on fire. She kicked his shins and karate-chopped his hand.

  Whimpering, he released her so suddenly she fell facedown on the concrete. Wet sticky fluid dripped down her forehead, finding its way into her eyes, turning the world into a bloodred haze.

  Grady got hold of her ankle.

  She saw her shoe, kicked to the ground, and grabbed it. Slammed the heel into Grady’s ear.

  He yowled then tried to protect his head with his hands.

  Now!

  She catapulted to her feet and ran like hell.

  Chapter 44

  Tuesday, October 29

  9:40 A.M.

  Boulder, Colorado

  “It’s not Grady.” Caity extended her arms and flipped a purple and green mile-a-minute afghan off her shoulders. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing a number of bruises and some swelling where her stitches had opened.

  Spense had to look away to keep his emotions in check. If he got anywhere near Webber, he’d take him apart bone by bone, consequences be damned.

  So it was probably good Hatcher had insisted on coming to Boulder to interview Caity in the comfort of her own home, though Spense suspected there was more to it than consideration for her cuts and scrapes. As far as Hatcher’s commander was concerned, both Spense and Caity were still blackballed from the case. And after what happened last night, if Grady Webber did turn out to be their UNSUB, neither of them could get near him without jeopardizing the investigation.

  Hatcher shoved himself off the couch and climbed to his feet. “Look, Caitlin, I appreciate your input. But, I have to respectfully disagree.”

  Last night, after Caity ran out of that alley and straight into the arms of a beat cop, Grady Webber had been cuffed and hauled down to the city jail where, after an initial advisement, he was now awaiting his preliminary hearing on assault and battery charges.

  But Hatcher had bigger plans for Webber.

  When doctors in the ER evaluated Caity, she’d requested a tox screen for date rape drugs.

  It came up positive for GHB.

  And per Harriet Beckerman’s autopsy results, so did hers.

  “So suddenly, you’re a true believer in our predator theory?” Caity asked Hatcher, her mouth falling into a straight line.

  “I don’t mind saying when I’m wrong. Who’s to say Laura didn’t write that incriminating note under duress? Or that Webber didn’t invent half of what he’d told us about her. If he’s a sexual opportunist, it all fits.”

  “Look,” Spense said. “I’m glad you’re coming around to the idea of a predator, because I’m absolutely convinced there’s one on the prowl. But Caity knows Webber . . .”

  Hatcher waved both hands in the air and interrupted. “I talked to Tracy Chaucer in private already, and when I told her Webber’s story about Laura standing over her bed with a knife, she had an apoplexy. According to her mother, Laura never threatened a soul.”

  “I know how it seems.” Caity sat up straight and tugged the hem of her blouse lower over her jeans. “But Grady doesn’t quite fit the profile.”

  “You mean the one you tried to sell me about a cunning, lying sexual sociopath?” Hatcher said. “Seems to me like he does. And I’ve confirmed that both Webber, and his wife Inga, were traveling with the Chaucer family in Amsterdam and Paris when Stella De Jong and Fabiana Luca disappeared. Webber drugged you. You’re exactly our UNSUB’s type—beautiful, brunette, blue-eyed. What do you suppose he had in mind for you last night, if it wasn’t . . .”

  “That’s enough.” Spense had to stop himself from grabbing Hatcher by the collar. The detective was talking to Caity like she was an object instead of a person who’d just survived a terrible ordeal.

  “What the hell, Spense? Caitlin, I can see. She’s still recovering from a bump on the head, and she has a history with Webber.” He reached for his coat and turned to Caity. “I can understand why you don’t want to believe that a man you’ve been intimate with in the past is a serial murderer. But it’s my job to be objective where you cannot.”

  “He’s right on that count,” Spense said. “You’re not thinking clearly about this. We’re looking at an UNSUB who thinks of himself as a pillar of society, someone who uses drugs to control women and believes that’s his right. Someone who’s educated and entitled and thinks the rules don’t apply to him. If Webber’s our man, he’d be very motivated to get you out of the way.”

  “Why me more than you? You’re the official FBI profiler. You’re the one who punched his lights out,” Caity replied.

  “Because you’re the one who rejected him.” Hatcher jumped into the mix. “I’m no shrink but I know these serial murderers usually have a primary—someone who becomes an object of their compulsion. Maybe you’re the dark-haired blue-eyed girl he’s really after and the other women are all surrogates.”

  “Knock it off.” This time Spense couldn’t help himself. He got up in Hatcher’s personal space and poked him in the chest. “Thirteen years ago, when Laura Chaucer and Angelina Antonelli were taken from the family home, Caity and Webber hadn’t yet met. Use your head before you open your fucking mouth again.”

  Hatcher stepped back and th
rew his hands up in apology. “Okay. Sorry. But I’m just the messenger in this scenario. Caitlin should watch her back.”

  “I’m watching her back,” Spense ground out.

  “Then where were you last night, buddy?”

  All his blood rushed to his head. One hand curled into a wrecking ball.

  Most people had fight or flight buttons inside them, just waiting to be pushed.

  Spense just had the one—and it was programmed to fight.

  Dammit.

  This was exactly why Caity hadn’t confided in him about Webber.

  He counted to ten.

  Inhaled.

  Exhaled.

  Worked his cube.

  “Point taken—but watch the way you’re talking.” He’d barely managed to keep the fury out of his voice.

  Caitlin offered a conciliatory smile. “It’s okay, guys. I know you both have my best interests at heart. And it’s true I’m our UNSUB’s type, and that I tested positive for GHB. Grady did grab me outside that coffee shop.” She shivered and pulled the afghan around her again. “But I don’t see how he could’ve put anything in my tea. I saw the barista set our drinks out on the counter. At no point after that did Grady leave the table. I didn’t have my eye on the drinks the whole time, but I did have my eye on him. Anyone could’ve slipped something into my tea between the time the barista put it out and the time the server came back from her break and delivered it. Have you guys found Cayman yet?”

  “No,” Hatcher said.

  Spense ran a hand through his hair. “GHB messes with your memory, Caity. You probably don’t fully recall what happened, but I’d still like to hear you out when you say Grady doesn’t quite fit the profile.”

  “There are profiles, and there’s evidence.” Hatcher had his coat on and his hat in his hand. “Evidence beats profiles like a royal flush beats a pair of deuces. As much as I’d like to stand here all day and listen to Caitlin explain why the man who drugged and attacked her, who lied to the cops, and whom we can place in the vicinity of every last victim at the time of her disappearance is not our guy. But I’ve got a serial killer sitting down at the jail, and I gotta figure out how to get enough proof to keep him there before a judge decides he’s a model citizen with ties to the community and lets him out on bail.” Then, without waiting for a response, Hatcher left.