VANISHED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Edgars Family Novel)

by Suzanne Ferrell

  Throughout her life she’d had her share of beatings—at least before she’d been adopted. This one ranked as the worst. She hadn’t told them where the disk was, had she?

  Her mind was fuzzy. How much blood had she lost?

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. It hurt to breathe. That couldn’t be good.

  Voices murmured in the distance.

  Were they in the room with her? No, there wasn’t anyone in the room. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did.

  She strained to hear what they said.

  “Did you get her cell phone?” a raspy voice asked.

  “No, I left it on the table with the rest of the junk from her purse. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s tied up,” a deep voice answered. “Besides, she’ll be dead soon. No one can survive that kind of beating. Especially not a broad.”

  A click sounded, followed by a pause in the conversation.

  Brianna’s heart jumped two extra beats, skipped one, then jumped two more. Please don’t let them come back. She just couldn’t take anymore.

  Fresh-burning tobacco tickled her nose.

  A man coughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. By tomorrow she ain’t gonna be a problem to no one,” raspy voice said.

  The words changed to a muffled murmur as they moved away. Finally, in the distance a door closed.

  Brianna struggled to take several breaths. Their words rang in her ears. She’d be dead tomorrow. Did that mean they’d be back to actually kill her? Or were her injuries so bad she’d just slowly bleed to death here tied to a chair in the dark?

  What a disgusting way to die. Helpless. Restrained. Broken. A sticky-gooey mess. Worse, she’d dragged Abby into this, and had no way to warn her.

  Abby. Poor frightened-of-her-shadow Abby. The image of a gangly, rail-thin girl sitting on the bench outside Sister Compassionatta’s office with her dark brown hair hanging down to her shoulders and almost covering her face flashed into Brianna’s mind. They’d both been sent to see the principal of the orphan school that fateful afternoon. Abby for crying when one of the boys teased her, Brianna for talking to the boys too much.

  “You know it’s silly to cry when the boys tease you,” she’d said in her snootiest voice. “It only makes them tease you more.”

  The frightened mouse turned her big green-and-gold-flecked eyes on Brianna. There was no malice in them, only an honest stare. “At least they aren’t nice to my face and talk mean behind my back.”

  In that moment, Brianna found the one thing she’d never had in her life. Someone she could trust to always be honest with her. They served detention together that day and until the day Brianna was adopted, they were inseparable.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Everything seemed fuzzy. She wasn’t sitting on the bench outside Compassionatta’s office. Her ears rang again. She struggled to inhale. God, her chest hurt.

  What had she been thinking about?

  Oh, yeah, Abby. She needed to warn Abby.

  How?

  The cell phone. Didn’t they say they left her cell on the table in the room? It might as well be ten miles away as just across the room. Tied to this chair, she had as much a chance of getting there as she did going to the moon.

  She struggled to inhale once more. The trickle of blood rolled down her arms.

  Abby needed to know…

  Brianna shook her head again. Maybe if she tried, the ropes would give. She lifted her right shoulder. Her arm extended and her wrists pulled on the ropes binding them together behind her back. She slumped in the chair. The effort forced her to inhale and exhaled deeply.

  She wiggled her wrists. Had the ropes loosened? All the blood was making the bindings slip a little.

  How long would it take to get free? How much time did she have? It was impossible.

  She closed her eyes.

  “You can’t conquer the world all at once, Brianna.” Abby’s voice filled her head in the darkness.

  “Oh, and you have all the answers, Ms. Perfect?”

  “No, it’s like a giant cookie. You can’t eat it in one big bite. You have to nibble it a piece at a time.”

  “What do you want me to do, gnaw at the ropes?”

  “Try to loosen the ropes a centimeter at a time. You can do it. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

  “I don’t think I can this time, Abby.”

  “Just try.”

  Brianna sucked in air. She leaned to the right and lifted her left shoulder this time. Her arm tightened and she tugged on the ropes again. Her wrist slid slightly past the rope.

  “Okay, Abby. I’ll call you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The ringtone erupted from Abby’s cell phone. Jumping nearly out of her skin, she struggled out of the pile of hotel-issue blankets and sheets wrapped around her body to snatch the phone from the bedside table.

  “Brianna?” she asked hopefully as she squinted through the mid-morning light to read the time on the bedside clock. Quarter to noon. How had she slept so long?

  “No, Ms. Whitson,” a slightly familiar, deep voice said on the other end. “This is Detective Jeffers. We spoke last night.”

  “Oh, yes. Detective Jeffers. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to ask Agent Edgars a few more questions, ma’am. I’ve tried the number he gave me, but he isn’t picking up. I’m sorry to bother you. Is there any chance you can contact him for me?”

  Luke wasn’t answering his phone? Had Brianna’s captors found them? Images of his body lying in a pool of blood on the other side of the wall flashed through her mind.

  Abby swung her legs out of the bed, and hurried over to the slightly ajar door joining her room with Luke’s. Across the opening she saw the closed bathroom door and heard the shower water running.

  Thank goodness. She leaned against the doorframe and heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Ms. Whitson?”

  “Uh, yes, Detective. I can get him a message. What did you need me to pass on?”

  “I’d like to meet with you both today.”

  “At the police station?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I believe Agent Edgars wanted to keep a low profile while you were in town. I’m thinking we should probably meet someplace away from the station. Maybe for lunch? Say in an hour?”

  Abby glanced at the clock again, quickly calculating how long it would take her to throw on some clothes and be ready. “I would imagine we can meet you. Where did you have in mind?”

  “A place called Flannery’s Pub. It’s about five miles from where your friend’s condo is and they’ve got great fish and chips. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  Abby spied a pen and pad of paper on Luke’s beside desk. “Yes. Go ahead.” She bent over the desk writing down both the address and directions from their hotel. She paused, swallowing before continuing. “Detective?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you…has anyone…Brianna…” She swallowed again, blinking back the tears.

  “No, Ms. Whitson. I’m sorry, there’s been no word from her, but we are actively looking for her. Perhaps you or Agent Edgars will be able to help me search in the right direction after we talk.”

  Abigail mumbled an agreement and hit disconnect on her phone. Fighting hard not to cry, she stared out the window at the just budding trees of spring. She’d decided last night that tears wouldn’t find Brianna.

  “Who was that?”

  Abigail tore her gaze away from the street to find Luke standing in the bathroom door with only the hotel’s cheap white towel wrapped low around his hips.

  All moisture in her mouth disappeared.

  His wet blond hair was slicked back and last night’s stubble still clung to his face. Her gaze wandered down his body, taking in the well-defined muscles of his shoulders and arms, the pale hair over his sculpted chest and down over his abdomen. He didn’t have the overdeveloped six-pack body builders had, but what he did have heated her blood.


  “Abby?”

  Startled, she jerked her gaze north, only to see the corners of his mouth rise in a smile and a bit of a twinkle in his dark gaze. Damn, she didn’t want him laughing at her. Not again.

  Quickly, she turned back to the desk and lifted the note. “Detective Jeffers has been trying to get in touch with you. He wants to meet us for lunch to talk about the case.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Yes, he said you wanted to keep our presence out of the official reports. He wants to meet us at this address in about an hour.”

  Serious now, Luke strode over, his bare feet thudding softly on the carpeted floor, and took the note from her. “I know this place. It’s down near the baseball park. My brothers and I usually stop in for dinner when we come to town to watch the Indians play. Damn good fish and chips, not to mention the beer.”

  His body heat warmed her skin as he stood next to her. The scent of the masculine hotel soap tickled her senses, setting her nerves on high alert.

  What was she doing? Hadn’t she learned her lesson, that any desires she had for him weren’t reciprocated?

  Get a grip, Abigail.

  She’d wanted more from this man once before and it had ended with her humiliation. The last thing she needed to do was get distracted by his nearness. This time Brianna’s life depended on her focused attention.

  Ignoring the heat rushing to her face, she fled the room before he could comment on her awkwardness. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  After washing her face and brushing her hair into a serviceable bun at the back of her head, she put on the navy-blue suit she’d hung in the closet last night and hoped it wouldn’t look too wrinkled. She smoothed her hands down the skirt as she stepped out of the bathroom.

  “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

  Jumping at the sound of Luke’s voice, she turned to find him leaning against the doorframe between their rooms. Thank God he’d dressed. Although the hip-hugging jeans and red Henley shirt stretched over his muscular chest was almost as sexy as his near-nakedness in only a towel.

  She was pathetic.

  “Yes, it’s this or my pajamas,” she said, a bit more peevish than she meant.

  “That’s all you packed for a visit with Brittany?”

  “Brianna. If you must know, she left me the message when I was on an out-of-town audit. I never went home to get more than my work clothes. So, yes, this is all I have to wear.”

  He looked at his watch. “Okay, we should have time to stop and grab something before we meet with Jeffers.”

  “I don’t see why, this is a perfectly acceptable suit for a meeting with the detective.” She grabbed her laptop bag and slid the strap over her shoulder.

  “Yes, it would be if we were auditing the man in his office. We’re meeting him in a pub outside a sports facility.” He opened the room door for her.

  She inhaled as she passed by him—a little tremor of heat ran through her again, and she swallowed the sigh that threatened to pop out at the masculine scent of spice and hotel soap.

  Pathetic.

  * * * * *

  Luke pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall down the road from their hotel. The chain store should have just what they needed.

  “We really don't have time to be shopping,” Abby complained even as she climbed out of the passenger side. “We should be worrying about what's happened to Brianna, not what I look like.”

  “Until we have a clue as to what happened to your friend we need to not attract attention. Right now you scream Federal Agent,” he said as they headed into the store.

  He held the door for her again, hiding the smile that threatened. Every time she got too close she blushed. If getting her cooperation in hiding her identity from anyone who might be searching for her wasn’t so serious, he’d love to tease some of the starch out of her.

  “Everyone in the bar will be relaxed and casual. We want to blend in, not stick out as an easy target.”

  “You’re a little paranoid, don't you think?” She turned her back to him and marched toward the women’s section of the store.

  Not when it comes to keeping you safe.

  Growling under his breath, he counted to ten before stalking after her. In the first aisle of clothes, she stood considering a pair of dark, stiff jeans that said brand-new-just-went-shopping. She really had no clue how to fit into her environment, or relax for that matter.

  “Not those.” Before she could stop him, he snatched them out of her hand and hung them back on the rack.

  “Hey! I thought you wanted me to get jeans,” she said, getting that stubborn-Abby look in her eyes and her chin rising.

  “Yes, but we want these to look like you’ve worn them for years, not that you bought them today to look like a tourist.” Grasping her elbow, he led her farther down the aisle to the pre-washed jeans. “This is more what I was thinking.” Releasing her arm, he pulled out several pairs—one with some well-placed, frayed rips—checked the sizes and thrust them into her arms.

  “You don’t know what size I wear.”

  He sized her up from head to toe and gave her a grin. “Trust me. After last night I have a very good idea of just what size you are, sweetheart. Check the tags and see.”

  She did, muttering a curse under her breath about arrogant asses.

  Could he help enjoying the way she narrowed her eyes at him?

  Without waiting, he moved around the aisles until he came to the sports fan section. “I don’t see you as a basketball fan, so baseball or football?” When she started to answer, he held up his hand. “Wait, I know. Baseball.”

  “Why baseball? Don’t you think I can understand football or like looking at all the muscle-bound men in tight pants like other women?” Her lips had pinched tight and the urge to kiss them loose hit him.

  “No. I’m more than sure you’d love all that violence and sweat, but baseball is a thinking-person’s game. Given your love of numbers, the game’s stats alone would probably give you an orgasm.” With a grin he held up a baseball jersey proudly proclaiming love of the Cleveland Indians.

  “Screw you, Edgars,” she muttered as she grabbed the shirt and stomped away toward the changing room.

  “Take off the tags and save them. You’re wearing these out of the store.”

  Over her shoulder she flipped him the eternal symbol of brotherly love and kept walking.

  This time he laughed at her disgruntlement. In the past five years he’d forgotten what fun it was to aggravate Abby. The more she fussed about it, the stronger his urge to tease her.

  Picking out a few more nondescript items—one black sweater, a black skirt, a dark grey hoodie pullover and some sneakers—he refrained from getting her underwear. As much as he wanted to, she’d draw the line in accepting him buying her those items. He handed them to the petite little brunette attendant, asking her to deliver those to his girlfriend, then wandered over to the men’s section. Abby wasn’t the only one who wasn’t prepared for a long stay in Cleveland.

  As he chose a few items for himself, his mind kept focusing on Abby. Why was he so damn attracted to the only woman who had more prickly sides than a cactus? Had been since the first day at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center down in Glenco when she’d rolled her eyes at him. She saw right through his charm-boy act, which both thrilled and scared the crap out of him. The youngest of three brothers and only older than their sister by a year, he’d always been able to sweet-talk his way out of any situation. Not even his family saw the real him as well as Abby did.

  His clothes selections made, he moved away from the changing room and stood in a corner, watching everyone milling about in the store. No one seemed to be paying him any unwarranted attention or looking for Abby. Perhaps their presence on the case was still unknown to the people responsible for her friend’s disappearance.

  Then he remembered his dream and a cold chill ran through him.

  He hadn’t had it since he’d been with Abby on t
hat disastrous night of FLETC graduation—not until last night. If he could just ship her back to Washington, maybe the dream would go away. But she was right. Her friend had called for her help. Either Abby subconsciously knew something or had the ability with that magnificent brain of hers to find her friend and unravel this mystery. Which meant until they found her friend or solved the problem, Abby was in danger and his to protect.

  Thank God with all her wallflower tendencies, she flew under the radar of most men. He didn’t need that complication.

  “What do you think? Will I do now?”

  He turned at her voice and stared.

  Oh hell! Things just got very complicated.

  His wonderfully geeky Abby had transformed into a supermodel.

  Starting at her feet, where her red-tipped toes peeked out of a pair of open-toed sandals, he let his gaze travel north. Her trim ankles showed just below the hem of the jeans that hugged every inch of her long, slender legs—legs that seemed to go on forever—and accented the curves of her thighs and hips. The baggy jersey should’ve hidden her curves, but the way the team’s name clung to the tops of her perky breasts made his mouth go dry. As much as the bun she’d had her hair in said, I’m all business, the ponytail she now wore announced, I’m young and fun.

  This was not good. Not at all.

  “What’s wrong? Did I forget something?”

  Yes. You forgot to be Abby.

  He swallowed his irritation. “No. You look fine.”

  She stepped back into the changing room to retrieve her old clothes and the other items he’d sent in to her, including a pair of running shoes the sales girl must’ve gotten her, too. “This is going to cost a bit more than I meant to spend.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll put it on my credit card and the government can pay for it.” He grabbed her elbow to steer her toward the front of the store. We just need to get moving.”