Jennifer Apodaca - Samantha Shaw 04 - Batteries Required

by Jennifer Apodaca

  My feet felt like lead, but I went back out to the living room. I had one more place to check. The garage. If Angel’s car was gone, then maybe she had left on her own, gotten away.

  She could have been at the police station right then, filing a report about a break-in. The garage door was behind the half-open front door. I slipped up behind it and put my hand on the knob.

  Turning it, I pushed open the door and flicked on the garage lights.

  Angel’s fire red Trans Am gleamed under the overhead light. I peered into the passenger window, desperately hoping to see Angel sitting in there, anything to make this whole nightmare OK.

  Instead, I saw the reflection of a big man standing behind me, holding a gun in his hand. I leaped into the garage and slammed the door with all my strength.

  The door bounced back, hit me in the ass, and knocked me over the hood of Angel’s car. My tote bag hit the ground and dumped out its contents.

  I shoved off the car and turned, thinking to get to the button that would open the big garage door. I came face-to-chest with Gabe Pulizzi.

  Panting, I forced my gaze up his T-shirt-covered chest, past the hard-cut Italian face up to his dark eyes. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  He arched a single eyebrow. “You’re damn lucky it’s me and not whoever trashed the house.”

  “Angel’s not here—” Something registered in my memory. I dropped my gaze to Gabe’s right hand. He had his gun. Gabe had a license to carry his gun, along with his PI license. But he normally didn’t walk around with it. In fact, he usually kept it locked in the glove box of his truck when he was out.

  Which meant he’d gone back to his truck and gotten his gun.

  It hit me hard, and I forced myself to say what we were both thinking. “Angel’s been kidnapped.”

  It was pretty standard to separate witnesses.

  In this case, I thought maybe it might be more a power play than from any real need to keep our information pure. Detective Logan Vance of Robbery/Homicide had me wait in the atrium while he walked through the house with Gabe. I understood the reasoning. After all, Gabe was the trained cop.

  I was sure the whole scene of Vance kissing me in front of Gabe last January, and the fight that followed, had nothing to do with Vance’s decision to separate us and leave me sitting outside worrying.

  I sighed. What difference did it make? All I cared about was finding Angel. I’d do anything to find her safe. I didn’t have a sister, but I imagined Angel and I had that same connection, that sharing of a life. Angel had the ability to make me a better person than I was. If I wanted to ignore a problem, she’d make me face it.

  And I’d do the same for her, make her face her fears. But Angel had only one horrible fear—dying alone.

  My eyes filled and burned. She’d clung to Hugh Crimson, her worthless ex-husband, in order to have a baby. Most people thought his betrayal of Angel by screwing her manicurist was what had sent Angel on her mission of revenge.

  Most people were wrong. Mostly wrong, anyway. Angel had been royally pissed off about that. But the real reason, the deepest reason, was that Hugh Crimson had lied to Angel about his ability to father a child. One of his manipulations had been to have a lab report changed to show he had a normal sperm count, when he was shooting blanks.

  He had led Angel on for years, saying that they would have a baby together.

  Because he knew that Angel did not want to die childless and alone.

  When Angel had found out about that, the gloves came off and she decided to pay Hugh back for the years of emotional torture.

  Sure, a psychiatrist might say that Angel was stalking and tormenting Hugh to avoid her own pain. But they’d be wrong. Angel was working through it. She kept moving forward, building a life with her lingerie company. She had lots of friends, and she’d accepted that she might not have her own kids. But she’d always have my two sons. They loved her more than they would have loved an aunt. She didn’t have to worry about dying alone.

  God. What if she was—

  A noise saved me from finishing that thought. Detective Vance came out the front door. The sun shone down on him, catching the highlights in his ruthlessly short blond hair. His brown eyes were flat and grim. No dimples showed in his hard, square face. His swimmer shoulders were tight under his gray jacket. He watched me for a minute before walking over and sitting in the wrought-iron chair.

  “Shaw.”

  “Vance.” Our uneasy history, and my own unstable emotions, kept me cautious. “What do you know about this? Where’s Angel?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know, Shaw. There’s no note. No sign of a ransom demand. Her mother is out of town?”

  “On a cruise with my mother. I don’t know if I should call her. What would I say? She’s in the middle of the ocean—what can she do?” I hated feeling so out of control.

  “Let us get a handle on the situation before you scare her mother. There’s nothing she can do from the ship to help us right now.”

  “Nothing she can do?” My blood pressure shot up. “Angel is her daughter!”

  Vance remained deadpan. “How do you feel right now, Shaw? Sitting here, waiting and not knowing. Why would you do that to Angel’s mom? Wait until you have something concrete to tell her.”

  Damn it, he was right. I struggled to get my blood pressure and emotions under control. Once, I had gone to a yoga class with Angel, and supposedly, breathing was the key. I breathed.

  I still felt like smacking Vance, but that was a step up from wanting to grab his gun and shoot him. “Fine, now what? Did you see the knife, and the blood on that dish towel? Her purse is here and so is her car. Someone kidnapped Angel. Are you going to call the FBI?” Crap, I was forgetting to breathe.

  Vance hauled his little notebook out of his shirt pocket. “We don’t know that she was kidnapped, Shaw. What you see in that house might have been due to a lovers’ quarrel, and they went off to Palm Springs to make up.”

  I wanted to shoot him again. Taking in a breath to send calming oxygen to all those angry cells, I struggled to be reasonable. “She didn’t walk out of that house on her own. What are you going to do about it?”

  His jaw twitched, and then he uncapped his Bic pen. “Let’s start with what you know. Tell me where you last saw Angel.”

  That gave me something constructive to focus on. “Angel went to Daystar Casino, where the Silky Men were performing.” Vance wrote as I summed up what I knew about Angel’s visit to Daystar.

  Vance looked up when I stopped talking. “She took her car to Daystar?”

  “Yes. And that purse in her bedroom. I saw her with it Friday night. That’s when we made the plans to meet here this morning.”

  Vance grimaced. “That would be the purse you picked up and rifled through on your trek through all my evidence?”

  I winced, knowing how particular cops were about evidence. “I was looking for her, Vance. What if she’d been in the house and hurt?” I looked down at the frosted beveled glass top of the wrought-iron table.

  He ignored my question. “Angel was here after you saw her at Daystar. When did she say she would be coming home?”

  “After the Silky Men’s set last night. She would have checked out of her room earlier and left her stuff in the car. Then watched the performance and come home sometime late last night. Maybe even early this morning.”

  He nodded and wrote. “Did she say she ran into any problems at the casino?”

  “No.” Angel was a beautiful and outgoing woman. Who would want to hurt her? I ran my finger over the beveled glass, feeling each cold bump. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen. She can’t just disappear.”

  Vance sighed and leaned back in the cushioned chair. “Has she ever done anything like this before?”

  I glared at him. “You mean trashed her own house, then hailed a taxi and hid away while everyone was worried sick about her?” I did not want to believe this. It was easier to be angry with Vance than t
o believe something had happened to Angel. Where was she? Was she scared right now? Tied up? Hurt . . . or dead? Stop it, I told myself. I would not fall apart. I had to hold it together and think.

  His jaw twitched, then settled. “This could be two separate events. What I meant was, is it possible that Angel went somewhere with someone and didn’t tell you? Then her house was broken into?”

  I narrowed my gaze. “You mean like she blew me off for some hotbody she met at the casino and took off to Hawaii?”

  His mouth thinned. “Yes.”

  I shrugged, the anger washing out. Angel was Angel. She could be unpredictable, but. . . “I don’t think so. She takes her lingerie business too seriously to up and disappear. We had a plan to meet this morning so I could pick up the couch.” The one with a butcher knife in it. A shudder rolled up my spine, but I went on, “And I know she had booked a party or two for her Tempt-an-Angel Lingerie. She’d have come home to get the details arranged. Or at the very least, have her cell phone with her to do her business. She has both her landline and cell number on her business cards.”

  Vance nodded. “OK, we’ll move on. What about problems? Has she gotten on the wrong side of anyone?”

  “Her ex-husband,” I muttered. I hadn’t remembered to ask Angel about Hugh at Daystar. When Linda had mentioned Hugh was there, I’d seen the look of disgust on Angel’s face. “Angel was mad at him about something Friday night but I don’t know what.”

  Vance looked at his notes. “Hugh Crimson, correct? He’s sworn out a complaint in the past about her stalking him.”

  “It came to nothing.” Mainly because the police liked Angel and detested Hugh.

  Vance fixed his brown gaze on me. “Nothing, huh? Angel has some very high tech tracking equipment in her house.”

  I shrugged. “She collects stuff. It’s a hobby.”

  “Shaw, I’m trying to get a picture here. Could her ex-husband have had something to do with this?”

  It wasn’t the time to worry about defending Angel. She could be in real danger. I tried to picture Hugh having something to do with the state of Angel’s house. “Maybe . . . he’s not that bright. He might trash her house, and he used to live here when they were married, so he’d have that going for him. But doing something physically to Angel?” I shook my head, I just couldn’t see it. “Hugh’s a coward; I can’t see him dragging her out of the house.”

  “I’ll talk to him, and his wife,” he looked down at his notes, “Brandi.”

  “What else?”

  Vance shut his notebook, and leaned his arms on the table. “I’m going to investigate, Shaw. I’m going to find Angel. I already told you I’d talk to her ex-husband. I’ll call Daystar to find out when she checked out of her room, and the last time anyone saw her. I’ll find out if she filed any complaints while there. I’ll talk to Rick Mesa from the Silky Men. I may need you for more information, but I’ll find her.”

  I watched his face. “We’ll find her.”

  The silence stretched. Noise filtered out from the house, the sounds of police work. Birds chirped from the trees on the street. A car drove by. “Look, Shaw, I know she’s your friend and you are worried—”

  I held up my hand. “Do you know that Angel’s biggest fear is dying alone with no one caring? No? Well, I do, Vance, and I’m not going to leave her out there alone.” I stood up and walked away. I had to get home to my sons. They loved Angel and would be devastated.

  Then I was going to find my best friend.

  I just hoped I found her alive.

  3

  Gabe stood against my T-bird, which was parked on Angel’s driveway. A cop-on-the-street expression stamped down hard on his face, leaving his eyes watchful and his mouth tight. He had his arms crossed over his chest, waiting. Patient, but ready.

  Like a street fighter. Used to danger he couldn’t quite see but a sixth sense warned him was there.

  I’d bet Heart Mates that right then, his sixth sense was sending out warnings. “Gabe, what do you think happened to Angel?”

  He uncrossed his arms, reached out, and tugged me to him. “I wish I knew, babe. The house looks tossed and searched by someone who was getting progressively pissed off. If Angel did drugs, I’d think she screwed a dealer.”

  I stiffened and looked up at his face. “You sound just like Vance. Blaming Angel, and she’s the victim!”

  “I know Angel’s clean. But she might have crossed the path of someone who isn’t clean by accident. Wouldn’t be the first time. I have some calls into Daystar. I should get a call back soon. We’ll have more to go on if we know when she left the casino. I’m going to put out more calls to some other contacts.”

  I nodded dumbly. That made a certain amount of sense. I had lectured Vance about doing something, but I didn’t know what to do. How was I going to find Angel? Who could Angel have gotten mixed up with who would be involved in shady—“Hugh! Gabe, I think Angel was pissed at Hugh for something when I saw her at the casino. I don’t know what it was, though. But Linda Simpkins had seen Hugh at the casino Friday night.” Maybe there was more of a connection than I had thought when I talked to Vance.

  “That’s a good place to start.” He touched my face. “We’ll go talk to him as soon as we can.”

  I knew Gabe’s plan had been to move the couch for me, then work on one of his current cases. His private investigating business was growing fast. “What about your work? Is this going to cause you problems?”

  “I made a call and cleared my schedule.”

  A call? That was vague. But he clearly was dropping everything to help me find Angel. Gabe and I were at an uneasy place. He’d asked me to work for him and train as a private investigator, but Heart Mates was my career. I liked working part-time for him when something came up or I had another bill to pay. Gabe didn’t push it and we sort of skirted the issue.

  Now wasn’t the time to sort this out. Angel was missing. “OK, but I have to get home to the boys. Check in with them. They’ll be devastated.”

  Gabe nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Home was where my grandfather lived. The boys and I had moved in with him not long after Trent died. In the beginning, the move had allowed the boys and me to get back on our feet, both financially and emotionally.

  Then I began to realize that Grandpa needed us as much as we needed him. We had blended into a family. Grandpa helped with the boys and gave me emotional support, and we all kept him company. In his seventies now, Grandpa was a retired magician with an active social life in the senior community and on the Internet. Gossip was his retirement hobby.

  Gabe and I pulled up side by side in the dirt lot facing the front porch of the little three-bedroom house.

  Grandpa came out on the porch and watched us get out of our cars. Going up the steps, I could see the tense line of his thin shoulders and the concern stamped on his craggy face. His blue eyes were shadowed with worry.

  He knew. I hugged him.

  “Sammy, I got word. Angel’s missing?”

  Letting go of him, I stepped back. “Looks like it. Have you told the boys?”

  He shook his head. “I put them to work making brownies. I knew you’d get home as soon as you could.”

  My throat tightened. No one supported my mothering skills like Grandpa. We both loved TJ and Joel, and tried our best to raise them right. What would I have done without him? “Thanks. I’ll go in to talk to them. Gabe can catch you up.”

  Taking a breath, I walked into the house. Rich chocolate coated the air, while punches of laughter and the sound of spraying water filled the house. An occasional bark meant Ali, our crack guard dog, was helping TJ and Joel with cleanup duty.

  I walked through the small living room to the dining room, set my purse on the glass-topped table, then did a ninety-degree turn into the long kitchen.

  TJ wiped the counters with a sponge, while Joel stuck a bowl in the dishwasher with one hand and flung drops of water from his other hand toward TJ. Ali had her elegant German
shepherd nose on the yellowed linoleum, licking up spots of batter.

  “Smells good.” I walked into the kitchen.

  Ali finished licking up the chocolate, then came over to let me pet her. She sat down and leaned against my leg. Ali had washed out from the police dog program for a little problem she had with beer drinking. We adored Ali. Looking up to the boys, I said, “I hope you didn’t give her too much chocolate. It’ll upset her stomach.”

  TJ threw the sponge toward the sink, but missed and hit his brother. “Nah, we know people food will make her sick. We just let her lick up the spills.”

  Joel threw the sponge back, hitting TJ on the side of the face. “Mom, the brownies are almost done. Grandpa made coffee. Know what?” Joel looked at me with his vivid blue eyes. “Grandpa got a phone call, then suddenly asked TJ and me to make brownies. I think Grandpa was keeping us busy until you got home. What’s up?”

  I glanced to my left to see the full coffeemaker on the counter. The boys were too smart. I went to TJ first, put one arm around his shoulders, then put my other arm around Joel. We stood with our backs to the sink, looking toward the stove. “I just came from Angel’s house. It looks like there’s been a break-in there.”

  TJ said, “Where’s Angel? Is she all right?”

  I looked at TJ. He was the more serious of the two boys. “That’s the problem, TJ. We don’t know where Angel is. Her car is there, and one of her purses.” I left out the part about the butcher knife and the blood on the towel. “The police are looking, and we are going to look for her, too.”

  TJ’s shoulders went back, his whole body stiffening, while Joel shrank a bit, leaning in closer to me. “Mom,” Joel said, “do you think she was kidnapped?”

  My throat hurt. Ached. But I made myself look at Joel’s pale face. “I don’t know, Joel. But I do know this: none of us will stop looking until we find her.”

  The buzzer on the stove went off. The brownies were done.

  I squeezed the boys, then let them go. “Why don’t you get some milk and we’ll eat the brownies hot.”