by Maris Soule
“Yeah, probably.” Crystal Morgan frowned, then smiled and held up her handbag. “But how are they going to call if my phone’s dead?”
“They could contact the ship.”
“Last time I checked, I had no messages.” The blonde glanced toward the door. “But maybe I should check again.”
“We’ll do that,” Katherine said. “Also, wouldn’t a ransom demand prompt your husband to call us or the FBI?”
Crystal scoffed. “Not Tom. He’d call his buddy Vince. Vince the wonder man who can solve all problems.”
“And this Vince is . . . ?”
“Vincent Nanini. He used to be Tom’s captain or something when they were in the Marines. He now runs a computer security company, along with another guy. Tom has them check his computers at work, as well as the ones we have at home. Tom’s paranoid about viruses and hackers. He’s always worrying that someone’s going to steal one of his projects before he gets it patented.”
“Well, if this is a kidnapping, this Vince had better let us handle it.”
“ ‘If’?” Crystal forcefully repeated. “You still don’t think Misty’s been kidnapped, do you?”
Katherine knew she had to be careful how she answered. The Skagway Police Department didn’t need an irate tourist complaining about the treatment she’d received. “What I’m saying,” she began, “is we are doing everything in our power to find your stepdaughter, but until you or your husband is contacted, and we know for certain this is a kidnapping, we cannot label it as such.”
“But, if she has been kidnapped, and the kidnapper asks for a lot of money, it’s going to take Tom a while before he can get it all together.”
“I’m sure a kidnapper would realize that.”
“And, you can bet no kidnapper is going to contact me. I have no money. It’s all Tom’s.”
“But would a kidnapper know that?”
“No . . .” She seemed to think about that. “No, I guess he wouldn’t.”
“And, you do realize there are reasons other than money for kidnapping a teenager.” Just thinking about the possibility made Katherine tense. “Have you noticed anyone watching your stepdaughter? Maybe someone on the boat? Anyone made friends with her that seemed too friendly?”
Crystal didn’t answer right away, and Katherine waited, watching the woman. The blonde looked away, and for a moment her features tensed, but then she shook her head, and looked back. “No . . . nothing like that.”
Katherine let out the breath she’d been holding. “That’s good.”
“Look,” Crystal said, staring directly into Katherine’s eyes. “I know Misty didn’t run away. She couldn’t have. Neither of us is traveling with a lot of cash, and Misty is smart enough to know her dad would track her down if she used her credit card to rent a car or buy a ticket.”
“But you said she took her passport with her when she left the ship.”
“We always do.” Once again Crystal Morgan held up her handbag. “I have mine in here, but that doesn’t mean I’m planning on running away.”
“Maybe your stepdaughter met someone here.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. Someone recognized her, saw his chance, and grabbed her. Hell, kids are kidnapped all the time. Especially rich kids. They’ve even made movies about it. It was Mel Gibson’s only son in Ransom. With Tom, it’s Misty, his only daughter.”
Crystal Morgan gave a frustrated sigh. “Damn, Vince wanted us to take a bodyguard along with us; now he’s going to be telling Tom this is all my fault. But, wouldn’t you think a cruise ship would be safe?”
Katherine wasn’t sure about that, considering how many people had died on or fallen off cruise ships in the last few years. However, as far as she knew, the ships that stopped at Skagway seemed to have good security in place. “What did the ship’s security officer say when you notified him that your stepdaughter was missing?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly notify anyone,” Crystal admitted, looking down at her untouched glass of water. “I mean, I asked if she’d returned and, as I said, according to their computer, she hadn’t.”
“So, once you discovered she wasn’t onboard you came here?”
“No; I looked around town for her, then I came here.”
“So, it’s been a while since you’ve checked on board.” Katherine hoped that meant this interview was a complete waste of time. “Your stepdaughter might have returned by now.”
“That would be wonderful,” Crystal said, but her expression didn’t convey much hope.
CHAPTER NINE
A heavy, lethargic sense of exhaustion weighed down Misty Morgan’s eyelids, the effort to raise them almost more than she could muster. When she did, darkness greeted her. A total, inky blackness that made her blink twice to make sure she actually did have her eyes open.
She started to move, only to discover something wrapped around her wrists bound her arms above her head, while similar bindings around her ankles limited how close together she could draw her legs.
Panicking, she struggled, lifting and pulling on the restraints, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring her arms down to her sides or bend her knees more than slightly. She was flat on her back, arms tied above her head and her legs spread wide apart. She was also naked. She could tell that because something heavy and rough covered her from her shoulders to just below her knees, and the material scratched at her skin, rubbing against her nipples and hips. She lifted her head slightly, bringing her chin toward her chest. A musty, moldy smell filled her nostrils, and she let her head drop back.
Staring into the darkness, she tried to make sense of where she was and what had happened. She recognized the feel of a mattress beneath her body and figured she was covered with a wool blanket, but why was she tied to a bed?
Before her mother became ill, she used to take Misty to visit her grandparents. The bedding at their house had the same musty odor as the blanket on top of her now. The moment they stepped into her grandparents’ house the smell was there. But Misty knew she wasn’t at her grandparents’ house. They were dead . . . and so was her mother.
So, where was she?
What had happened?
And why was she so tired?
She remembered meeting Brian as they’d planned. She’d been relieved to see he looked like the picture he’d posted on ChatPlace. She’d half-expected he’d be some pimply-faced geek or middle-aged pervert. If so, she never would have gone with him. She wasn’t stupid.
Brian’s smile had indicated his pleasure in seeing her, and he didn’t question her age—not then—so she figured taking the time to put on makeup had paid off. She’d hoped the people at the border wouldn’t notice the change she’d made in her birth date. She didn’t want to have to explain why an underage American citizen was going into Canada with an unrelated adult.
He had wanted to stay in Skagway and get some breakfast. He said it would give them a chance to get to know each other. She’d argued that she wanted to get on the road while it was early; wanted to start their adventure right away.
The way he kept looking at her, like a tomcat staring at a bird that had just offered itself to him, she knew she’d taken his mind off breakfast, and they would be safely across the border before Crystal finished her shower, put on her makeup, and got dressed. It would be afternoon before her stepmother even realized she was gone.
Gone. The word sliced though Misty with icy clarity. Brian is gone.
In the pit of her stomach, she felt the same panic she’d experienced when Brian’s vehicle lurched forward. Looking over the edge and seeing how far they would fall if he didn’t stay on the road had made her dizzy. Yet, she’d been sure it was Vince following them; sure he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.
She’d been angry when Brian stopped the Blazer and stepped out. Angry with him for not making a run for the border, and angry with Vince for spoiling her plans. Her dad was the one who should have come for her. Not Vince.
She co
uld still picture Brian standing by the Blazer’s open door. She’d expected to hear Vince’s voice; instead she heard a loud crack that echoed across the valley.
She couldn’t see Brian’s face at that moment. She didn’t understand what had happened, not until Brian crumpled to the ground.
She should have screamed. Not that anyone would have heard her, but still . . . She should have tried to get away, should have moved faster. But, no; she’d sat there, staring at Brian . . . or where Brian once stood. Stared and didn’t do anything until her door was jerked open, and she saw the face of a bear and the body of a man.
Even though his facial features were hidden, she knew it wasn’t Vince. The height was wrong. The width of his shoulders.
“Who . . . ?” she’d managed, before she felt a pain. Like the sting of a bee, the prick was quick and unexpected, and, before she could react, a warm sensation started moving away from the spot, flowing up her arm and through her body. She might have also said “Why?” though she wasn’t sure. All too quickly her eyes grew heavy, and a humming sound lulled her to sleep.
A soft groan—not a hum—pulled Misty away from her memories. She turned her head toward the sound. “Who’s there?” she asked, the knot of fear in her stomach growing tighter.
Another groan was her only answer, but it told her one thing . . . she wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER TEN
Katherine stepped out of the interview room first. “Any word?” she asked Alice.
“From Phil or about the girl?”
“Either.”
“No word from Phil, and I talked to the security officer on the Holiday Festival. He said they’re checking the videos, but he’s sure the girl hasn’t returned to the ship. The other cruise lines have been notified, along with the tour vendors. Doug’s taking the girl’s picture to each of them, and I’ve faxed her picture to Canadian customs, along with the missing person report.”
“I think I should go back to the ship, see if Tom has called,” Crystal said, leaning against the door frame. “I’ll need a ride.”
The police station was only a short distance from where the cruise ships docked, and Katherine was about to say “tough” when she remembered the blonde’s three-inch heels . . . and that Gordon wanted Crystal Morgan to feel the Skagway Police Department was taking her report of an alleged kidnapping seriously. Katherine also knew going along would give her a chance to talk to the ship’s personnel, get their take on the situation.
“Let me tell Sergeant Landros,” she said, “then we’ll go.”
As soon as Katherine slid into the Tahoe, she rolled down the windows; nevertheless, the moment Crystal Morgan unzipped her leather bag, the overpowering smell of perfume filled the air, and Katherine sneezed. Three times.
“Are you catching a cold?” Crystal asked.
“It’s your perfume.”
“Oh. Sorry. The bottle spilled in my bag.” Crystal pulled the zipper closed and looked toward the docks. “While I’m on the boat, I’ll grab another handbag.”
Katherine sneezed again and headed the Tahoe for the docks.
“God, how can you stand to live in a town this small?” Crystal asked, looking around.
Katherine remembered her thoughts the day her grandparents told her they were moving to Skagway. As far as she’d been concerned, she was going from one prison to another. It took years before she understood the wisdom of that move.
“I like it here,” she said, meaning it. “Besides, Whitehorse isn’t that far away.”
“Like how far?”
“A hundred and twelve miles.”
Crystal stared at her. “And you call that close?”
“Close enough.” Katherine acknowledged dock security and parked the Tahoe as close to the cruise ship as she could before she turned off the engine. “Most people who live here year round like the isolation.”
“I’d go crazy,” Crystal said. “My God, what do you do for fun?”
“Fish. Hike. Snowshoe in the winter.”
Crystal shook her head, and looked down at Katherine’s hands. “You married?”
Katherine figured her lack of a wedding band pretty much answered the question . . . if it deserved an answer. Feeling another sneeze coming on, she opened the Tahoe’s door and stepped out. “When we get to the ship, we can double-check if your stepdaughter’s returned.”
A handful of passengers was leaving the massive, block-long cruise ship when Katherine and Crystal arrived at the security checkpoint. “I’ll check for any phone calls and get rid of this handbag,” Crystal said and held out her ID card to be scanned. In a moment, she’d cleared security and disappeared into the belly of the ship.
Katherine showed her badge and questioned the men monitoring the flow of passengers on and off the ship. “Miss Morgan has not yet returned,” the man by the computerized screen said.
A distinguished-looking, middle-aged officer, standing slightly back from the doorway, stepped up and identified himself as Hans van Vermer, Executive Officer. “The young lady was among the first to leave the ship. I was here when she did so. We’re scanning the videos now, but I’m quite sure she has not returned.”
“Did she leave with a tour group?”
He shook his head. “I’ve checked with our tour director. We have no record of Miss Morgan or Mrs. Morgan signing up for any tours at this port.”
“So, you’re sure Miss Morgan is not on board your ship right now?”
“Positive.” He smiled. “With that girl, my staff and I would know if she were.”
“Why do you say that?”
He sighed. “In just a few days, she’s made her presence known. She—”
Van Vermer’s cell phone rang, and he paused to glance at the screen. “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” he said, “I need to take this.”
He stepped a few feet away, and, keeping his voice low, answered the call. Katherine picked up a bit of his conversation, a “You’re sure,” and “I’ll talk to him later.” Finally the officer ended the call and came back to stand in front of her.
“That was in regards to Miss Morgan,” he explained. “You asked why we would be aware of her. Just last night one of the guests complained about a young lady skinny dipping in the pool on the top deck. It seems Miss Morgan bribed the man assigned to watch that area into leaving his post.”
“Are you harping on that again?” Crystal asked, coming up beside the officer. “I thought we had that little incident resolved.”
The look van Vermer gave Crystal Morgan was a study in self-discipline. “Indeed it has been, Mrs. Morgan,” he said, and then nodded toward Katherine. “That crew member swears he has no idea where she might have gone.”
“Why would she tell the guy anything?” Crystal asked. “He could barely even speak English.”
Katherine had a feeling van Vermer would like to say something about Crystal’s comment, but he kept his response official. “My staff and crew will continue to search for the young lady, but if she’s not back in an hour, I’m afraid we will have to leave without her, we can’t—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Crystal interrupted. “This boat waits for no one. I got it.” She held up a canvas bag for Katherine to see. “I dumped the other one. Oh, and I did have a message on my room phone. My husband has been trying to call me. I didn’t want to keep you waiting, so can I use that pay phone at the station?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
5:30 P.M.
“Hey, Kat—” Crystal Morgan shouted through the open doorway that connected the covered entryway to the police station’s reception area. “What time is it here?”
“Her name is Katherine,” Alice said coolly from her position behind the counter. “Officer Katherine Ward. And it’s five thirty.”
Katherine gave Alice an appreciative nod. Their dispatcher had never questioned why Katherine insisted on no nicknames. No one in Skagway had ever called her Kat; at least, not to her face. Which was why the folded and taped scrap of paper Alice had ha
nded her when she returned with Crystal bothered Katherine. Clearly written on the outside was KAT. “Who gave this to you?”
“A kid I’ve never seen before,” Alice said. “He delivered it just before five; said some guy gave him the note earlier today, and asked him to deliver it to you at exactly five o’clock.”
“Exactly five o’clock?” Katherine glanced at the clock on the wall. “Did he say why it had to be at that time?”
“The kid said the man told him you’d understand the significance of the time.”
“Really?” Katherine tried to think of what she might have had scheduled at five o’clock, especially with a man.
“The kid was really upset that you weren’t here. He said he didn’t want the guy mad at him. Only when I assured him I’d give you the note as soon as you returned would he give it to me.”
“Do either of you know what time it is in China right now?” Crystal asked, easily heard through the open doorway.
Katherine grabbed a pair of scissors from Alice’s desk. If she remembered correctly, China’s time zone was way ahead of Alaska’s, but how much ahead was another matter.
“It’s ten thirty,” Alice answered.
“Night or morning?” Crystal asked, echoing Katherine’s thoughts.
Alice had the answer. “Morning. Tomorrow morning.”
Crystal muttered “Crazy,” Alice grinned, and Katherine smiled. Alice was a constant source of trivial information. It was no surprise she had the International Date Line down pat.
One snip of the scissors cut the tape sealing the note. Katherine carefully unfolded the paper and stared at a crude, childlike drawing of a clock. The circle filled most of the sheet’s inner surface—the hour hand pointing at the number five, the minute hand at the twelve. Beneath the drawing, crudely printed in pencil, were the words YOU HAVE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.
“Alice . . . ?” Katherine turned the paper so their dispatcher could see the drawing. “Do I have anything scheduled at five tomorrow?”
