“Uhh . . .” He swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably. “Three months.”
“How did it break?”
“We don’t know. It may have been damaged long before that. We only discovered it by accident.”
His answer confirmed her suspicions, but it also created more questions. The kidnappers had to have known the door was broken, but were they the ones who’d disabled the alarm in preparation? Or had they discovered it while casing the restaurant and used the knowledge to their advantage?
She glanced up at the camera lens peering out over the alley. “You have security cameras back here. How long do you hold onto the footage?”
Robert’s cheeks turned pink, and he refused to meet her gaze. “They don’t work.”
“What?”
“They never worked,” he said in a rush. “They were always just for show.”
Ara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In her head, she was screaming a string of obscenities. For such an expensive restaurant, it seemed overwhelmingly ridiculous that they’d never installed real cameras.
“Did anyone in the restaurant, other than Holly, see the attack?”
“No.”
Robert held the door open as Ara released it and stepped farther into the alley. It was dark, the only light coming from the nearby building and a flickering street lamp. It smelled of urine, old food, and mold. Several dumpsters sat like hunched animals against the side wall.
“I’ve already asked all the kitchen staff.” Robert waved toward the delivery entrance. “No one even saw the van.”
“When was the last time someone took out the trash?”
“Eight o’clock.”
She passed a glance at him over her shoulder. “How do you know that?”
“Because I asked our busboy to do it when I went back into the kitchen to check on things. I saw him go out the door myself.”
Ara nodded. The kidnapping had happened at ten o’clock, and they’d arrived at the restaurant around eight thirty. Had they been followed? Or had the kidnappers known they were going to be there tonight because of their reservation?
No matter how she cut it, Ara kept circling around to the same answer. The kidnapping had been planned. Carefully. The kidnappers had known they would be at the restaurant, had known the emergency exit was broken, had probably known the cameras were fake.
She spotted a lump in the middle of the alley. As she drew closer, dread tightened her stomach.
Sam’s purse.
Ara lifted the bag by the broken handle. Mud spattered the side, and the glittery fringe winked in the weak lamplight. A quick glance inside revealed everything was still there. Sam’s wallet, her phone. The kidnappers had been thorough. By leaving the purse in the alley, there was no way Ara would be able to track Sam’s movements via her cell phone’s GPS.
Ara gripped the bag so tightly her knuckles ached with the effort. Spinning around, she faced the back of the restaurant, the concerned Robert hesitating in the doorway. Every detail had been planned. Every move calculated.
Except one.
How the hell had the kidnappers known Sam would use the bathroom?
CHAPTER THREE
The car ride back to the Boones’ mansion felt like an eternity.
Holly, distraught and practically hysterical, had made for a very poor witness. Ara had briefly tried to question her during the trip back to Long Island, but it hadn’t yielded any new information. Ara could do nothing more than try to comfort her in between planning and making the necessary phone calls. As a former reporter, Holly had covered all kinds of stories and understood well that the world was often not a kind place. She didn’t need to be told about the dangerous situation her only living child was in.
The sound of her weeping had been almost more than Ara could take.
Things didn’t get easier once they arrived home. Within ten minutes of walking through the front door, Ara stood in her office, facing Mick. His mouth thinned into a flat line, and perspiration dotted his hairline.
He wasn’t her boss. As head of security, he oversaw every other bodyguard and security staff member, except her. She answered to no one other than Oliver and Holly. It was a requirement she’d given before accepting the position. Ara had done the bureaucracy bit, had clawed and fought her way up in the police department, ripping through red tape as she went. She wouldn’t do it again. Working on her own, having the freedom to call her own shots, had become extremely important to her when she left the force.
Unfortunately, in this situation, it also meant all the responsibility fell on her shoulders.
And oh, did she feel the weight of that responsibility now. Like two lead balloons pressing down on either side of her. So heavy, the muscles in her shoulders ached and trembled. Still, Ara allowed no sign of her discomfort to show. She told Mick about the events leading up to and after the kidnapping using a cop’s flat tone, giving the necessary details without embellishment or feeling.
Gannon paced the length of the room, the tap of his shoes against the tile floor repetitive and annoying. A distraction Ara could have lived without.
“What are the orders?” Mick’s jaw was tight, his body coiled as though ready to spring into action.
“Gather as much evidence as we can, see if we can figure out who’s behind this. Mr. Boone will be arriving within the hour. He’ll make some decisions once he gets here.” She turned her attention to Gannon. “Have you noticed anything unusual about Sam lately?”
He stopped his pacing abruptly. “Don’t you think I would’ve said something before now?”
“I think these questions need to be asked. You’re the one who picks her up from school and spends the afternoon with her.” Her voice softened. She wouldn’t get anywhere by antagonizing him, and she needed answers. “It’s not personal, Gannon.”
He studied her expression, and whatever he saw there made a difference. His posture relaxed. “I haven’t noticed anything.”
Ara didn’t know whether she could trust that answer. Gannon had been with the Boones for many years, but Ara would’ve fired him long ago if she thought she could have convinced Oliver it was necessary. Gannon lacked the observation skills and training necessary for a bodyguard.
“Where have you been taking her after school?” she asked.
“To see her friends. The mall.” He gave a half shrug. “The usual places.”
“Have you noticed anyone following her?”
“No. Like I said, there hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary.”
A furrow appeared in Mick’s brow. “She’s been happier lately. Although things here in the house haven’t improved that much, Sam seems calmer.”
“Happier?” Gannon laughed. “Just last week, she yelled at me for following her and her friends through the park.”
“Happier is a relative term. She hasn’t been as snappy lately.”
Ara nodded. “I agree. It’s a subtle difference, but there has been one.”
“You said you recovered her phone from the back of the restaurant. She’s always on the damn thing. Maybe she met someone or has been talking to someone we don’t know about.”
Ara rubbed the back of her neck, where the mixture of tension and adrenaline was giving her a raging headache. “She changed the passcode. I’ve tried different combinations, but I haven’t been able to figure it out.”
“Do you really think Sam is stupid enough to meet with someone she met online?” Gannon scoffed. “She’s a pain in the ass, but she isn’t an idiot.”
“You don’t have to be an idiot,” Ara said. “You have to be vulnerable, which Sam is.”
“These predators are master manipulators. He would work on saying all the right things.” Mick tightened his meaty fists. “If she trusted him, Sam would’ve—could’ve—told an outsider all kinds of things about the Boone household. Including where she was tonight.”
His words twisted Ara’s stomach. The thought had already occurred to her, but to hear him sa
y it aloud made it seem more real, more of a possibility. She feared for a moment she would throw up.
She could not fall apart. Sam needed her. There was a job to do, and damn it, she would not make another mistake. She’d already made too many.
“The perimeter of the house needs to be monitored physically,” she said.
Stress lines appeared on Mick’s forehead. “You think they’ll use her to gain entrance?”
“I think it’s a mistake to assume they won’t. Sam knows the gate codes and the alarm codes.”
“We should change them immediately.”
Ara held up a hand. “Let’s ask Mr. Boone what he wants to do. I don’t want to change the codes and have the kidnappers hurt Sam because of it.”
“That’s a risk.”
“Any move we make at the moment is a risk, which is exactly why we need to be on high alert. Right now, we don’t know who the kidnappers are or what their end game is.” Ara squared her shoulders. “There are other people—and another child—in this house. They need to be protected.”
Mick gave a firm nod. “You’re right. They need to be our top priority. Gannon, come with me.”
The men stepped from her office with a renewed sense of purpose, exactly as Ara had hoped for. Once the door was shut and she was alone, she collapsed into her chair.
Despair and guilt threatened to overtake her as images flashed in her mind. She could easily visualize all the things being done to Sam right now. The endless possible ways the kidnappers could be hurting her.
And it was all her fault.
She slammed a fist down on the desk. She never should have left them inside the restaurant. She knew better. She’d allowed the fear of losing her job to prevent her from actually doing it, and now Sam was paying the price.
Kidnapped.
By whom? And for what purpose? Ara could think of only two possibilities.
One was exactly as she told the security team—the kidnappers hoped to use Sam to gain entrance to the house. Once inside, they could threaten Oliver’s biological child, Charlie. Oliver would give any amount demanded to keep Charlie safe.
The second possibility—and the most likely scenario—was that the kidnappers were amateurs. Any kidnapper who’d done his research on the family would know Sam wasn’t the best target. She and Oliver had a barely tolerant relationship, and that fact wasn’t a secret. But they probably figured Sam was worth some kind of ransom. If that were the case, Oliver would be receiving the demand soon.
Oliver would pay to get his stepdaughter back. For Holly’s sake, especially. But not nearly the same amount he would for his own child.
As much as Ara hated to say it, she was hoping for the second scenario. One, it would mean the kidnappers would most likely keep Sam alive. She was no good to them dead, and Ara had a real chance to find her and get her back. Two, it would mean the other members of the household were safe. All their energy and resources could be dedicated to Sam’s safe return.
As her mind twisted with different scenarios, her stomach churned. She, of all people, understood the terror Sam would be feeling right now. The helplessness. Ara’s heart battered against her chest as the memories washed over her. The smell of the leather seats. The feeling of a heavy hand on her inner thigh. The cool, metal clasp of handcuffs.
The laughter—the cold, mean laughter.
Stop it.
She couldn’t help Sam if she was embroiled in her own past. She swallowed hard and forced herself to box all those thoughts up, to hide them away. There would be time later for grief and self-flagellation, but right now, she needed the anger.
Ara stood up from the chair, the sudden force of her movement causing it to roll and slam against the back wall. All her energy and focus needed to be on getting Sam back. That was her job.
She glanced at her watch. Mr. Boone would be here in thirty minutes, and she needed to have options. Answers. Recommendations.
There was work to do.
* * *
“You think these men are amateurs?” Oliver’s voice held the perfect amount of disdain and incredulousness. “They snatch Sam from right underneath your nose and escape into the night, and you think they’re amateurs?”
Ara fought the urge to shift in her shoes. Oliver’s stare was cold. Deceptively so. She knew that underneath the indifferent exterior was a man bubbling with rage. But Oliver Boone hadn’t made a fortune by running with his emotions. No, he gathered all the facts first, and then he sliced you where it hurt the most.
“Not the kidnapping itself,” she said. “I only meant that the kidnappers went after Sam instead of Charlie, your son.”
Oliver’s spine straightened a fraction. “You think their ultimate target might be my son?”
“I think it’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”
His gaze narrowed as he considered her answer. His hands were locked together on the top of his broad desk. Oliver cut an imposing figure, even sitting. His athletic frame was once the picture of male perfection, but now, in his sixties, his age was starting to show in the sag of his skin, the curve of a small belly.
What he hadn’t lost with time was his immense power. If anything, it had grown. He carried himself like a man who was assured of his place in the world.
“How would taking Sam help them get to Charlie?” he asked.
“Well, for one, she’s an easier target.”
At ten, Charlie was well insulated and far more protected. It would’ve been more difficult for the kidnappers to take him. But Sam was a teenager with an independent and rebellious streak. She had often attempted to lose her security detail.
“Once the kidnappers have her,” Ara continued, “Sam would be able to provide them with any information they need about the household. Including how to get in. Which is why, for safety reasons, I’d like to recommend the codes be changed for the house and the gate.”
He rose from the chair and went to look out of the window. His office faced the front of the house and the driveway leading to the gates. “What happens to Sam if they try to gain access to the house and can’t?”
“I don’t know.”
He waited for a long moment, and Ara studied his profile. A muscle in his jaw worked as he thought through the options.
“Change the codes.” Oliver turned to her. “It won’t prevent me from opening the doors if they show up with Sam, but it’ll make it impossible for them to sneak onto the grounds.”
“Understood.”
“In addition, Charlie is not to leave this house. Not for school, not for activities. Not for any reason whatsoever until Sam is returned. I don’t even want him outside on the grounds. And I want Alex to be with him at all times. Eating, sleeping, playing video games. He isn’t to let Charlie out of his sight for a moment.”
Alex was Charlie’s primary bodyguard.
“I’ll make sure of it.” She paused. “Sir, we don’t know for sure that the kidnappers have taken Sam for the purpose of gaining entrance into the house. She could’ve been their primary target.”
“For ransom.”
Ara nodded. “It’s the most logical conclusion. I want Charlie protected, the household kept safe, but I don’t think it’s likely the kidnappers will show up here.”
“How in the hell did this happen? How in the hell did they know what restaurant you would be at?”
Ara eyebrows creased. “The reservation was made two weeks ago. That’s one of Mrs. Boone’s favorite restaurants, particularly after attending an event at the gallery. It wouldn’t be hard to find out where we were going to be. The truth is, sir, they only had to wait for the right opportunity. If Sam hadn’t been snatched tonight, it would’ve been next week. Or next month.” She licked her lips. “The other possibility is that Sam herself told the kidnappers.”
“How?”
“We watch over her, but we don’t keep track of her online activities. It’s entirely possible someone has been communicating with her, has gained her trust. She may have
, unwittingly, helped them take her.”
Oliver’s face paled as he considered the possibilities. “Would they . . . are they . . .”
He couldn’t say the words, but Ara knew what he was asking all the same. It cut her like a thousand knives, ripping open painful scars from wounds that had never healed.
“If their purpose is to hold her for ransom, they probably won’t hurt her.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the entire truth. That every fear he was imagining in his head was only the beginning.
He heard it anyway. “Probably?”
It came out a whisper, a touch of heartache underlying the single question.
Ara briefly closed her eyes before focusing back on him. “She’s no good to them dead, and it’s not smart for them to hurt her.”
Oliver’s posture was tight, and he was quiet for a long moment. She could feel the tension in the room growing with every tick of the grandfather clock behind her.
“As we’ve discussed, kidnapping for ransom is the most likely scenario.” Oliver’s tone became hard, more definitive. “It’s one of the reasons I have you watching over Sam and Holly. It’s the specific reason I hired you, especially.”
“Yes, sir.” She swallowed. “And under normal circumstances, I would’ve never left Sam alone, but Mrs. Boone asked me to order the car around front. She requested a few moments alone with her dinner guest. I complied with her wishes.”
“Are you blaming Holly?”
“I—”
“Shut up,” Oliver snapped. His eyes blazed as he jabbed a finger in her direction. “Don’t ever, ever say that again. Not to me and especially not to Holly. This falls on you. This entire mess is your fault.”
His words echoed her own emotions, but that didn’t make them any easier to hear.
“Do you understand me?” he continued. “If there’s someone to blame, it’s you.”
Belatedly, she realized what he was doing. “Absolutely, sir. It’s not Mrs. Boone’s fault.”
The anger left him as quickly as it came. His shoulders turned inward, and for a brief second, tears shimmered in his eyes. “She blames herself. She’s falling apart, and I can’t even tell her that Sam will be okay.”
When She's Gone Page 3
