“Brooke, let it go. Please.” Luke stared at Brooke as she dialed her phone. His anxiety over protecting her had gone way beyond a promise to a friend or even the fear of failing Brooke the way he’d failed Sherry. Fear for Brooke and for what he would do without her spun through him. His breaths accelerated. His pulse climbed. Clammy sweat broke out on his forehead.
“I couldn’t take it if something happened to Maddie.”
“Well, I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”
Their stares locked. Neither yielded.
Brooke’s expression tightened. “I can’t put myself before her.”
And that would make him a coward if he asked her to give up. Distance. He needed some privacy to get his shit together.
“Excuse me for a minute.” He ducked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.
“Mike left me a voice mail,” she called from the kitchen.
Concern churned into panic in Luke’s chest. Guilt had taken over her mind. She was never going to back off. She was going to pursue this killer until she found him or vice versa. Neither option was acceptable. How the hell could he keep her safe if she refused to take care? She was a car without brakes going over the top of a hill. Once she gathered momentum, there was no stopping her. She was going to steamroll right into a brick wall.
Luke couldn’t stand to watch her crash.
Brooke listened to the chief’s voice mail. He was back in his office. She dialed the number.
Mike answered on the first ring. “Did Luke find something?”
“He’s still sorting through the data,” Brooke said. “But two major connections jumped right out at me. Forever Fitness and Owen Zimmerman.”
“We know both girls belonged to the gym, but who is Owen Zimmerman?”
“He’s a local photographer.” She explained about seeing the athletic team photos, all taken by Owen, on the Internet. “I know it’s a thin connection, but when we went to see him—”
“You did what?” The chief’s voice went flat.
“We went to get some information about having portraits done,” Brooke backtracked.
Mike didn’t say anything, but anger radiated over the line.
She blazed ahead. “Anyway, while we were there, Luke found some violent pornography on Owen’s computer. He copied it for you.”
“Brooke—”
“I know it’s not legally obtained, but at least you know to start looking at him as a suspect.”
Mike mumbled, “Christ, Brooke. What are you trying to do to me?”
Brooke considered his question to be rhetorical. “Now, we have those pictures for you, plus Luke will have the downloaded and sorted data for you. Where should we drop them off?”
“I’ll be in my office.” Mike sounded tired.
“And another thing.” Brooke twirled the charging cord around her finger. “Maddie’s not answering her cell phone.”
“There’s a car parked in front of her house. I’ll contact my officer and make sure everything is all right.”
“Thank you.”
“Brooke, I know this is hard for you, but you need to stay out of this investigation.”
“Of course.”
“Promise you won’t go looking for any more suspects?”
“All right.” Brooke exhaled. “I was only trying to help.” Mike didn’t understand. She had to help.
“I realize that, but this is a dangerous situation. I don’t want you walking into a killer.”
Brooke ended the call. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She read the screen. UNKNOWN CALLER. A flurry of alarm floated into her throat as she put the cell to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, Brooke.” The voice was a gravelly whisper. “Are you looking for someone?”
Oh, no.
With a frantic sweep of her gaze, Brooke scanned the room for Luke, but he hadn’t returned.
“I’m watching you. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Just listen. If you don’t obey my instructions exactly, I will shoot her right now.”
Maddie.
A click sounded over the connection. Brooke flinched. A weapon being cocked? She couldn’t tell.
“Turn around and walk out your back door.”
Brooke hesitated. Maddie’s life—and her own—hinged on her decision.
“I said walk out your back door. I’m in control now. Don’t forget it. You have three seconds, or I’m going to kill her. Don’t hang up. Don’t signal your boyfriend. Keep the phone to your ear.”
With no alternatives, Brooke did as she was told. She unplugged the charger and prayed that in the last ten minutes her battery had charged enough for whatever he had in mind. She stepped outside. Darkness shrouded the yard. Her workout clothes were no match for the dropping temperature, and cold drizzle bathed her skin.
“Run toward the garage.”
She broke into a jog. The wet grass soaked the hems of her yoga pants. Pain zinged through her still-healing knee. She focused on it, used it to keep the fear from paralyzing her brain. If she didn’t keep her cool, Maddie was dead. The old building loomed ahead. A figure stood at the corner. Medium height and build. Dressed in a bulky black jacket and pants. A ski mask covered his head and concealed his features.
As she approached, he backed away. “Around back,” he whispered.
She slowed to a walk and obeyed, following his retreating shadow. A plain four-door sedan hunkered behind the garage, out of sight of the house. The front bumper was dented. This was the car he’d used to ram Natalie’s vehicle. The trunk and one rear door were open. The dome light illuminated the figure of a girl wedged on the floor in front of the backseat. She was bound, her head covered with what appeared to be a pillowcase.
He stood near the open vehicle door, a handgun pointed at the girl’s limp form. “End the call and drop the phone.”
Brooke punched END. Her cell hit the dripping weeds with a wet thud.
He tossed something at her. It landed in the grass at her feet with a metallic jingle. The car’s interior light gleamed on silver. Handcuffs. “Put those on.”
She bent down and picked them up.
Possibilities raced through her mind. She had no weapon. He wasn’t close enough to strike, and he was pointing a gun into the car. What choice did she have?
She snapped the bracelets over her wrists.
“Get in the trunk.”
She paused. Sweat dripped between her shoulder blades. He slid his phone into his pocket, then leaned over, yanked the pillowcase from the girl’s head, and pressed the muzzle to her temple.
Brooke’s heart stopped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Haley.
The sight of her daughter’s face swept away Brooke’s balance. She stumbled forward.
He held up a hand in a stop gesture. “Get in the trunk or she’s dead. Right here. Right now.”
He’d already proven his willingness to kill. Reason told her to run for help, but her body propelled itself forward on autopilot, her maternal instinct preventing her from leaving her child, even as she was well aware that her mere presence did nothing to diminish the danger.
Brooke walked toward the vehicle, her heart slamming against her ribs. Fear dried her throat as she climbed over the bumper. Easing into the trunk’s interior, the smell of rubber and gasoline gagged her. She shifted onto her back and lifted her feet. If he came close enough…
He didn’t. “And no funny business. I will leave you by the side of the road, drive somewhere else, and take all my frustrations out on your little girl. On the other hand, maybe if you cooperate, I’ll only kill you tonight.”
The trunk slammed, and she was enveloped in darkness. The weight of her decision and the confining space smothered her. Her breaths came faster, until small dots of light appeared in the black void.
The primary rule in women’s self-defense? Do everything you can to prevent being taken to a secondary location. Once a killer had you in a private, secluded place, your chance
s of survival rivaled lightning strikes and shark attacks. If it were only her life at risk, she’d have run and taken the chance he’d have missed her in the dark. Hitting a moving target with a handgun was a lot harder than it looked on TV. Even if he shot her, Luke would have heard. Help could have been summoned.
But none of her training prepared her for a gun pointed at her child by a man more than willing to commit torture and murder.
Despair and guilt wrapped around her heart and clenched hard.
What had she done? She should have run for help. Gone for assistance. There was no way he was letting either one of them go.
But she couldn’t leave her daughter, even if her training told her that was the most logical move. She’d frozen and obeyed. Panic raced through her veins, spreading icy certainty to her limbs. She’d done the exact opposite of everything she taught her girls, and she’d condemned her daughter to death.
Luke dried his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Man up.
He’d promised to protect Brooke until he returned to work. Tonight, he’d finish sorting the data for the police and take her to a hotel. In the meantime, he was backing off on the personal relationship they’d developed. He’d book two connecting rooms. No more making love with Brooke, though his chest already ached with the loss. The connection they shared was unlike any other in his experience. But in that link he sensed not only the power to heal him, but the ability to break him just as easily. So, he would keep his promise to Wade, but he wouldn’t risk his recovery. Brooke couldn’t change. She was caught in a hopeless spiral of guilt he understood too well. She endangered herself recklessly, and he couldn’t suffer another loss.
He went back into the kitchen and checked his computer. The program was finished. “Brooke?” he called.
No answer.
He checked the den and her office. Empty. He took the stairs two at a time. “Brooke?” All four bedrooms were empty. The bathrooms too. An eerie silence settled over the house as alarm triggered inside him.
Luke checked the basement and then ran through the first floor one more time. In the foyer, he shoved a hand over his head. Brooke was not in the house. Where the hell was she? Her car and his both sat in the driveway. The front door was locked. Luke opened the door and went out onto the porch. “Brooke?”
A frigid gust of wind sent dead leaves scrambling across the walk.
Luke went back inside. He raced down the hall. The back door was unlocked. He grabbed a flashlight and went outside. One lap around the house yielded no sign of her. Dread pumped through his body. “Brooke?”
The garage?
It was the only place left on the property to check. Luke ran across the grass, a surreal horror cloaking him, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Why would she come out here?
No reason. Something had happened, and he’d missed it because he’d been freaking out in the bathroom.
The garage was empty. He dialed the police chief. Mike answered on the first ring.
“Did you talk to Brooke?” Luke closed the garage door.
“She called me about fifteen minutes ago to tell me about the fitness center and the photographer. I didn’t approve of either action, and I told her she had to stop interfering in the case.”
“Shit.” Luke circled the building, sweeping his beam across the grass in rhythmic arcs.
“What’s wrong?” Mike clipped off the words.
Luke spun in a frantic circle. His light bounced around the countryside, ineffectual beyond a distance of twenty feet. “She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, she’s gone?”
“I went into the bathroom. When I came out ten minutes later, she was fucking gone. The back door is unlocked. That’s the only clue.”
“We’ll be right there.”
Luke ended the call. In the beam of his light, a glimmer in the grass caught his attention. He walked toward it. Anxiety shifted into terror as he recognized Brooke’s cell phone. He scanned the grass as far as his light would reach. Ten yards ahead, tire tracks led toward the road, fresh in the damp earth from tonight’s drizzle.
Simultaneously sweating and freezing, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. The police were on the way, but it was too late. Brooke had been taken.
Luke had failed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Agony and confusion pounded through Haley’s temples. She tried to raise her head, but it felt floaty, almost as if it wasn’t attached to her neck. What happened? She opened her eyes to see only darkness. She tilted her head to listen. An engine hummed. Fabric slid on the skin of her face. What was over her head? She reached up to remove the covering, but her hands were tied together. The hood was secured somehow too. She couldn’t pull it off.
No.
She pulled at the binds, but her skin gave instead. Thin and inflexible, they dug into her wrists. Pain shot up her arms. She inhaled the stale air that surrounded her face. Her feet were free, but her muscles refused to obey her commands to move. Her legs flopped when she wanted them to bend.
Had he drugged her? She had no other explanation. She pressed her fists against her mouth to hold back her scream.
She wriggled her torso. There wasn’t much room to maneuver. She was wedged in a tight space. She tried to roll over, but her head smacked into an object. A wave of nausea rolled through her. She flexed her tingling fingers and encountered flat, coarse carpet.
A car.
Was she in the trunk? No. She moved her hands as far as her possible and encountered the smoothness of leather. She must be on the floor in the back, stuffed between the seats.
A cough startled her. The driver? Haley froze. Though she couldn’t see, she sensed a person close to her. The sound of his breathing confirmed his presence. The floor shifted as the car made a turn. The chips she’d eaten earlier roiled in her belly, flooding her chest and throat with a sour, acidic burn. And her body still floated…
What had happened?
She’d been in her room, flipping through an old issue of Cosmo, her eyes barely skimming over the flashy ads and thinking about how unfair her parents were acting.
And then…
Someone knocked at her bedroom door.
“Haley?” Dad called through the door.
“What?” Her tone was rude, and she didn’t care. Mom could cover for him all she wanted, but Haley knew it was her dad’s idea to drag her down here and ruin her life.
The door opened, and her dad stuck his head inside. “I have to run to the office. I won’t be long. Stay inside, OK?”
Holding nothing back, Haley scowled up at him. “Fine.”
She dropped her attention back to her biology book. His sad stare was hot on her face. She knew her rebuff hurt his feelings. She only saw him two weekends a month since the divorce. But whose fault was that? He was the one who’d left them and moved too far away to see them more often. Anger nudged the guilt aside.
None of this was her fault.
Did either of her parents know what this weekend meant to her? Had they cared that she was missing the most important night of her life?
No. They hadn’t. Her mom was being ridiculous and overprotective as usual. All she ever talked about was safety. Haley had had it with the lectures.
“Want me to bring you anything special for dinner?” Dad asked.
“I’m not hungry.” Which was actually a dumb thing to say because she was. But letting him do something nice for her would make him feel better. She didn’t want him to feel better. She wanted to share her misery.
He closed the door.
Haley gave up on her studying. She shoved her books aside and flopped onto the fluffy comforter. Her dad had fixed this room up for her in her favorite color: purple. But she wasn’t here enough for it to feel like “her” room. Her suitcase was opened on the dresser. She’d live out of it until she was allowed to go home on Monday. Dad wanted her to leave some things here, but Haley lugged everything back to Westbury twic
e a month. If she made herself at home in his apartment, he’d think what he did was OK. It wasn’t.
She glanced at the clock by the bed. All of her friends were getting ready to go to the Halloween dance. She thought of the beautiful costume at home in her closet and her first pair of heels that she wouldn’t be wearing tonight. And of Brandon, who’d asked her out on her first official date.
Would Brandon go without her tonight? Would he find another girl to dance with? Misery filled her until she choked on it. Her eyes overflowed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with her hand. This was going to be the worst weekend ever.
Her phone buzzed. She checked the display. An instant message from Brandon. Flutters swam in her belly. She automatically glanced toward the door, and then remembered her dad had left. That’s what he did best.
Brandon: MEET ME DOWNSTAIRS.
Haley: UR HERE?
Brandon: YES.
The flurries graduated to blizzard. He drove all the way down here to see her.
Haley: WHAT ABT THE DANCE?
Brandon: SKIPPED IT. WANTED TO C U.
Delicious warmth flooded her, washing away the sadness. Brandon would rather see her than go to the biggest dance of the year except for prom.
Brandon: COME DOWN.
Her thumbs hesitated. Dad said not to go outside. She picked at her fingernail. She wouldn’t go outside. She’d go to the lobby, let Brandon into the building, and bring him upstairs. They could hang out here. Dad couldn’t object to that.
Haley: K. WHERE R U?
Brandon: 20TH ST. WHERE’S THE DOOR?
Haley thought. The Twentieth Street entrance was actually in a narrow alley. The main lobby of the building opened onto Rittenhouse Square. She didn’t want to go into the main lobby. That’s the way her dad would come in. Better for him not to know she was downstairs at all.
Haley: IN THE ALLEY NEXT TO THE LUGGAGE STORE. MEET U AT THE DOOR.
Brandon: K.
The first floor of Dad’s building was mostly stores. But you had to walk outside to get to them. There was a Starbucks and a small restaurant too. The luggage store was on the end, near the back exit to Twentieth.
She Can Scream Page 25
