VANISHED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Edgars Family Novel)

by Suzanne Ferrell

  That was nothing like the rather quiet, almost invisible disappearances of the other women. In fact, most of the leads in those cases were so cold they belonged in the Arctic Circle. Hell, no one even knew they were gone for weeks after their abduction. No one had reported anything. If his niece Stephanie hadn’t called him about the fifth girl—he pulled up the picture of the mousy-blonde-haired Casey Timmons—a friend of hers from work, they probably still wouldn’t have known there was a case.

  Too many differences to think the situations were linked.

  Six missing women. Two sets of perps. Great.

  Another look through the crime scene files from last night and all the blood throughout the condo. He shook his head.

  Probably at least one homicide.

  * * * * *

  Just a little bit farther.

  Brianna slid her uninjured arm along the gritty concrete floor, then shoved with her knees to push her body forward. The metal table with her bag and its contents was only a foot away.

  How long had she been at this? The fluorescent lights had been on the entire time she’d been here, disorienting her sense of time. The metal window coverings prevented her from seeing outside. Was it day or night?

  It seemed it had taken forever to get free from the ropes binding her to the chair. Pretty much sure she’d dislocated her left shoulder to finally slip loose.

  A little pain in exchange for your life? Is there a choice?

  Who knew Abby’s voice in her head could be so sarcastic. She chuckled at her own joke, then grimaced at the searing agony that ripped through her.

  Damn. She didn’t like pain.

  Had a lover once who wanted to experiment with BDSM. She was willing to play the submissive until he decided spanking and flogging would be fun. Put the kibosh on that idea and him immediately.

  This is not a game. Get a move on it or you’re going to die here.

  “Yes, Abby, your nagginess,” she whispered and pulled her body another inch across the floor.

  How had she ended up in this mess?

  Curiosity, pure and simple. Sister Compassionatta had warned her more than once back in the orphanage, a lady always minds her own business. Remember curiosity killed the cat.

  Guess what Sister C? For once you were right. Except it wasn’t a cat who was going to die.

  And what had she been so curious about? Like most women, where her newest man was spending his time when he wasn’t with her. How stupid. Never once had she been jealous or suspicious over a man before.

  A brittle laugh escaped her.

  No, she’d never had those feelings over a man, because she’d never cared about them. They’d all been a means to an end for her. A way to build her ego when they fawned over her. Or get them to buy her things she wanted—cars, homes, jewelry. Some even helped her move up the corporate ladder.

  Until him.

  He’d been different. While that other lover had let her play at being a submissive, he tapped into that part of her that needed to be controlled. Instead of being at her beck and call like so many men previously had. He expected her to wait for him. To be available when he said he needed her and to stay away when he gave her that order.

  Because of his position, he instigated a move for her up the corporate ladder, believing her to be an airhead that simply followed orders. The kind of woman used as a trophy girl for the company to show they met equal opportunity hiring requirements. Once again they’d underestimated her. The promotion gave her access to all kinds of corporate information and she’d taken advantage of it, starting with the audit. She’d wanted proof that he had another lover.

  Ha. If only it had been that simple.

  Yes. You might not be bleeding out all over this concrete floor. Get your butt in gear and move before someone comes back.

  Sigh. Abby, ever the practical one, even in her own head.

  Putting aside the internal dialogue, she focused on making her way to the table as if it were a life preserver floating on the dangerous sea threatening to drown her. One inch after another, she worked like a caterpillar—stretch out arm, use knees to push her ass up in the air, then slump forward.

  Finally her hand connected with the metal leg.

  With one more push she pulled herself forward and slumped around it. Eyes closed, the only thing still moving was her lungs as she dragged in one breath after another.

  She’d made it.

  Never in her life had she worked so hard for something. From the time she’d learned that opening her blue eyes wide and smiling with all her dimples any man within a two foot radius would give her whatever she wanted, she’d always taken the easy way around things. Even the sisters at the orphanage couldn’t resist her. No one challenged her or expected more of her—except Abigail.

  Shy, naïve, prickly Abby. From the moment they’d sat next to each other on the wooden punishment bench outside Sister Rose Thomas’ office, Abigail had seen right through her sweet cute-little-girl act straight to the heart of the scared girl trying to hide her fear from the world.

  They’d discovered they both loved math and puzzles. When her math grades started improving, she hid the fact that she was so good at it from the boys, by saying Abigail had tutored her all night. Abby would just roll her eyes, shake her head. But Abby had always been there for her. Always. No questions asked.

  And now she’d put her dearest friend in jeopardy.

  Her heartache added to the pain coursing through almost every part of her body. Maybe she should just give in, let him win.

  You can’t. Remember there are innocent people counting on you. I’m counting on you to help me find you.

  “Leave me alone, Abby. I left you the clue.”

  Focus, Brie! Get to the phone. Help me help you.

  “I can’t.”

  Yes, you can. You’ve almost got it. Get up on your hand and knees. Do it. Now.

  God, she hated it when Abby got that Sister Compassionatta tone in her voice. But she did as she was told. Turning, she used her uninjured hand to pull herself up onto her knees. Grasping the edge of the table, she leaned her head onto the cold metal surface, letting her eyes focus on the contents of her purse that were strewn about.

  What was it she was looking for?

  Your phone, Brie. Get the phone.

  Oh yeah. She had to call Abby. Sweet Abby.

  With all the effort she had left in her body, she stretched her arm along the table, her fingers not quite touching the new smartphone she’d gotten last year.

  Almost. There.

  She stretched until her shoulder ached, fingers sliding over the smooth surface then pulling it slightly closer.

  “I can’t.” She struggled to breathe past the pain.

  Yes you can. Now. You have to do it now.

  A door opened somewhere. Voices in the hall.

  Stretching one more time, she pulled her phone closer. Finally able to grasp it in her hand she slumped, hitting the floor hard.

  “Dammit!” A familiar deep voice bellowed from behind her. He was here.

  “How the hell did she get loose?”

  “Because you didn’t secure her, idiot.”

  He bent over, smoothing back the hair sticking to her sore, swollen face. The scent of the spicy tobacco on his breath so familiar, now nauseating. His piercing blue eyes focused on her, his face distorted with anger. Had she really thought him handsome? Had she believed she’d actually loved someone this evil?

  “Well, Miss Nosy. What was so important that you’d crawl across a dirty floor to get? Hmm?”

  She clenched her fingers tighter around the phone.

  “Let. Me. Have. It,” he said as he pried each finger loose.

  Peeking up at him through the tears flooding her eyes, she let out a whimper of a cry. It was all she could manage in her defeat.

  “Your phone. With the battery still in it.” He stood and snatched one of her torturers by the throat. “Asshole, I told you to remove the battery.”

>   The man choked a reply.

  He released the man. “No. Not off. Battery gone. Those were my instructions. The GPS is still active. Anyone looking for the bitch could trace her through it.”

  Then he turned her phone over and removed the battery.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The cursor on Luke’s computer screen cycled as if it were thinking. Actually, Abigail hoped it was searching, searching for Brianna’s cell phone.

  “This isn’t instantaneous, sweetheart,” he said beside her and once more she was surprised by the tenderness in his voice. “First it has to find her cell phone signal and it has to be within the radius of a cell tower. Then the satellites have to triangulate its location.”

  “I know. It uses the closest cell towers to map her signal for longitude, latitude and altitude. We learned that back at FLETC.”

  “And you memorized every bit of the training manual, didn’t you?” he asked with a small lift of the corners of his full lips. Lips she’d kissed last night and once before during their training. She remembered how warm and wonderful they’d felt.

  Stop it. Luke Edgars wasn’t interested in her. Hadn’t he made that perfectly clear outside that bar in Georgia? She’d be a fool to think there could ever be anything more between them. His presence here was due to her request for a field agent to help her determine any fraud Brianna found at Hollister-Klein, not because he was interested in her in anyway.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Shaking off her inner dialogue she pulled her reading glasses off and focused on the expectant look on his face, heat flushing her cheeks to be caught inattentive. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  His smile widened and with it her cheeks grew warmer. “I asked, how does your photographic memory work? Nicky says his is like a movie that plays in his head.”

  “Mine is more like still photography.”

  “Have you always had it?”

  The last thing she wanted to do was revisit her childhood, but as her partner for this case, he had the right to know about her skills. “No. It seemed to be triggered right after my mother was murdered.”

  “Oh, damn, Abby, I had no idea.” His tender expression and the warmth of his hand as it settled over hers once more opened up that particular drawer of memories, the images and words just spilling out. That first horrible image forever in her mind.

  “When I first came to the orphanage to live. The policeman who found me told Sister Rose Thomas, the mother superior of the orphanage, that I hadn’t said a word. It took a while for me to feel comfortable enough to talk to anyone, but she was very patient. One day she asked me if I remembered my mother and poof just like a crime scene photo I saw her sprawled across the bed, the covers lumped and wrinkled around her body, her skirt up around her waist, panties hanging off one leg, the pool of blood soaking into the white chenille spread, her cold, lifeless eyes staring right at the door of the closet where she told me to hide.”

  Suddenly she was hauled off the bed and onto Luke’s lap, his arms wrapping around her and hugging her close, pressing her face right up against his heart.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, I didn’t know. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have asked.”

  He kept murmuring those words in her ear, his big hands sliding up and down her back. Slowly warmth replaced the freezing cold she always felt when she revisited that image. Closing her eyes, she listened to the steady beat of his heart in her ear, letting her mind put the photo of her mother’s dead body back in the filing cabinet.

  “When I described that picture to Sister Rose Thomas, she realized what a horrible thing I’d seen and that my mind had captured every detail. She called the policeman who’d brought me to the orphanage to come and talk with me.”

  “Dammit, she shouldn’t have made you relive that again.” Luke’s hold on her tightened.

  Warmed by his anger on her behalf, she smoothed her hand over his solid chest, imitating his soothing actions on her back.

  “It was a good thing, actually.” She wanted him to understand that she’d learned to think of her memory as a gift.

  He leaned back and stared down into her eyes, his hazel eyes burning with anger and his jaw muscles flexing with tension. “How can you say that?”

  “Because when the policeman came back, he didn’t ask me about my mother. He asked me if I’d seen the man who murdered her.”

  “That’s worse. Making you focus on the act of her murder.”

  “It’s not like your nephew’s memory, Luke.” Wanting to make him understand, she pushed away from the feel of his body and the delicious scent that comforted her. She focused on his eyes. “Mine are still shots. No noise. So when the policeman asked me if I’d seen the man’s face, my mind simply pulled up the image I’d glimpsed through the door when he first came into the bedroom.”

  “Please don’t tell me he knew you were there, that you watched…” He swallowed as if he couldn’t even finish the thought.

  She shook her head. “No. Of course not. Mama had lots of male visitors. That’s what I thought of them. I learned later that she had a bad coke habit and supplemented her income for it working as a prostitute. She usually let me stay in my room while the men were there, but sometimes she would hide me in her closet, warning me to be very quiet, and kept the men in the living room. Even in her drugged-warped mind, there were some of her customers she knew I needed to be protected from. That particular night she warned me not to make a sound, no matter what. Later there were loud noises and I peeked through the crack in the closet door.”

  Once again her mind pulled a snapshot out of a drawer.

  “He was angry and followed her into the room. Tall, big-bodied with shaggy black hair. He had a scar on his face and a tattoo on his arm. I remember that the most, because I’d never seen one before. I described it as a black star with a circle of blue around it. Later I learned it was a pentagram for a gang that ran that part of town.”

  “Did you see anything else after that?” Luke sounded in more pain than she was feeling.

  “No. He was mean looking and I didn’t want him to find me in Mama’s closet, so I curled into the corner with my teddy bear and blanket. That’s where the police found me.”

  “How long were you in there?”

  “They said just overnight. Our neighbor usually watched me for Mama when she was working at the café down the street. When we weren’t at her door the next morning, she came looking and found Mama. She’s the one who insisted the police search the apartment for me. I didn’t really see much until the policeman carried me past Mama’s body.”

  “And that triggered your photographic memory.”

  She nodded. “The man’s image that I described to the police helped them find my mother’s murderer. The courts set up counseling sessions for a while with a very nice lady. She helped me understand that channeling the events into snapshots helped me distance myself from the trauma of not only that night, but how I lived the early years of my life.”

  “And now? Do you still use it to distance yourself from events?”

  Before she could answer that question, his laptop pinged beside them. Realizing she was still seated on Luke’s lap, she quickly slid to the side as he reached for the computer.

  “Is that Brianna’s cell phone?”

  “The program’s picked up her signal.” He typed some codes into the computer.

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  He stopped what he was doing to focus that intense gaze on her once more. “It means her battery is still connected to the phone. It doesn’t tell us if the phone is with her or if she’s okay.”

  “I understand that. It’s just…” Unable to finish, she swallowed hard to tamp down her fears.

  “She’s family. Believe me, I get that. We’ll just take this in baby steps, okay?” he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “Good.” Releasing her hand, he went back to typing away on the laptop.

>   Watching him so focused on the computer screen, she realized he wasn’t just an arrogant flirt like she’d always believed. Except for the waitress today and the news reporter last night, he’d wielded very little of his usual annoying frat-boy charm.

  Seeing the purpose-driven agent who’d shown her both understanding and tenderness just now disturbed her far more. This man was dangerous.

  This Luke, she could like.

  Suddenly, she needed to put some distance between them. Trying not to look like a deer bolting from a mountain lion poised to strike, she eased off the bed. She retrieved her sneakers from the closet and sat on the other bed as she slipped them on.

  “Where are you going?” he asked without a pause in this fingers flying over the keys.

  “Just down the hall for some ice to go with the pop we got at the store. I feel the need to walk around.”

  “Okay. Leave the safety latch in the door, and take your gun.”

  “You’re not serious. No one knows we’re here. It’s perfectly safe in the hallway.”

  That got him to stop what he was working on and focus on her once more. “Sweetheart, until we find out who took your friend and why, I’m very serious about keeping you safe. Take the gun or stay put.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a mock salute and a suppressed urge to roll her eyes. Following his instructions, she took her weapon out of the bedside drawer and slipped it into the back of her jeans then grabbed the ice bucket from the little wet bar in the room.

  Leaving the latch in the door to keep it open for her return, she headed for the ice machine, pretty sure the most dangerous thing for her in this hotel was seated squarely back there in her bed.

  * * * * *

  Once the door hit the latch blocking it from closing behind Abby, Luke paused his fingers on the keyboard and slowly exhaled, trying to rein in the need to follow after her. Over the pounding of his pulse in his ears he strained to hear anything unusual in the hallway.