Framed For Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  She examined the envelope. Besides being slightly wilted, it appeared undamaged. Maybe the answer to her dilemma lay within. With trembling fingers she opened the envelope. She hadn’t wanted to, fearing she would learn something that would make her even more a target, but now she had no other choice. There was no going back.

  Then again, there had never really been a chance for retreat. Not since the day she had first fallen in love with Jared. Wherever he was, they were in this together.

  What she found inside was unexpected. There were lists of art objects, apparently from a manifest of some sort. Pages and pages of them. Next to the rows of neat type were U.S. addresses and dates. There were more lists in two other languages Cassi couldn’t read. She knew enough to recognize one as French and the other as another Romance language, perhaps Spanish or Italian.

  She shoved the stacks of lists back into the envelope and tossed it in the back seat. “Some help,” she grumbled. “Now I know less than I knew before.”

  She let her head fall to the steering wheel. What now?

  Robert. Her brother.

  “Of course!” There was no one else she could trust. As a policeman, Robert would know what to do, and as her brother, he could be trusted with her life. And Jared’s.

  A renewed sense of determination washing over her, she slammed the car into gear and took off. Stopping at the next gas station, she took one of Quentin’s bills and asked for change. Then she called the operator at the pay phone and placed a collect call to Provo.

  Her sister-in-law, Jarelyn, answered and accepted the call. “He’s at work.”

  “I really need to talk to him,” Cassi insisted.

  “Do you want his work number?”

  “It would be better if you could have him call me. Right now, if he can. I’ll be waiting. I’m at a pay phone.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No.” Cassi’s voice was strained. “But please don’t ask any more questions. Just hurry. Here’s the number.” She hung up, knowing Jarelyn was worried, but that simply couldn’t be helped. Cassi was far more concerned that the thugs of the night before might find her while she waited for Robert’s call.

  As the thought came, a dark-blue sedan cruised slowly by the gas station. Cassi’s heart lurched. Could whoever was inside be looking for her? The sedan made a turn up the street and drove back toward the station. It might be any car, making a stop for gas, but why had it made the first slow pass by the station? Was it only checking out pump prices? Cassi wasn’t waiting around to find out. She jumped in Quentin’s car and took off. For a long time, she kept checking the rearview mirror, but the sedan hadn’t followed her.

  She relaxed only slightly. Now what? she thought. Robert was going to be worried when he called and she wasn’t there to answer. She would have to stop again to phone him. But what if someone had followed her from Holbrooke’s? She wasn’t an expert, but she knew several different cars could be used to follow someone in order to allay suspicion. If they were following her, they would know she stopped to get the envelope.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror at the cars behind her. Was one of them following her? If only she had her cell phone to call Robert.

  Cassi furrowed her brow and stared straight ahead, wracking her brain for a plan. By now maybe Jared or Linden’s friends had tried to contact her on her cell phone, but she’d left it at her house or at Jared’s—she couldn’t remember where—and either of those places was out of the question at the moment. But she could check the messages by calling and entering a code. She’d need to find the right number to call, though, and that meant the Internet.

  She made a series of odd turns, backtracked several times, and finally drove into the parking lot of her library. Surely she had lost anyone who might be following, and it would be some time before they could catch up to her again. She wound her way on through the building, limping on her hurt leg.

  Minutes later, she was dialing her messages.

  Renae had left another message, but it was from before Cassi had called her back. There was one hang up. Next a female voice came on, with a purring tone that made her blood run cold. “Hi, Cassi. This message is for you. Jared certainly won’t be hearing it, and he won’t be leaving you any messages.” A pause for the space of several heartbeats and then, “Run away, girl. Fast and far—if you know what’s good for you. Leave Jared to me.”

  All at once Cassi couldn’t breathe. Her hands shook, and her legs felt weak. Could it be? A voice from the grave? Another message began from someone named Fred, but Cassi let the receiver fall, caring only about the feminine voice whose silkiness sheathed a deadly blade.

  Laranda.

  Oh no! No! It can’t be! Laranda was supposed to be dead. One week dead. Burned in a fire. Murdered. But there was no mistaking Laranda Garrettson’s voice. Cassi knew she would remember it forever.

  Cassi left the phone, all thoughts of calling her brother vanishing with this new threat. Before she left the library, she glimpsed a man lounging outside the front doors. He hadn’t been there when she’d entered, or at least she hadn’t seen him. She waited long moments until his attention was elsewhere before she bolted out of the doors and ran faster than she ever had before. Was he with the FBI? Or one of Laranda’s thugs?

  Cassi didn’t feel safe, not even when pushing the speed limit on the freeway. Somehow Laranda wasn’t dead but out of prison. Cassi knew that wheelchair or no, she would seek revenge. Her message had implied that she knew where Jared was, an idea Cassi couldn’t bear. Laranda had hurt Jared terribly before with her betrayal, and had nearly killed them both. With her there would be no mercy.

  Too late, Cassi remembered about calling Robert. She hit the steering wheel with her still-shaking hand, sending rivers of stinging and numbness up her arm. “I need you, Robert,” she mumbled. “But I don’t dare stop again. Laranda’s alive.”

  She took a deep breath, letting it calm her mind and body. There was nothing Robert could do from Provo anyway. He would need to see the papers in the manila envelope first, but to stop somewhere to fax them would be dangerous. At any moment she could be discovered, and the shooting of the night before could begin again—this time with her as the sole target.

  Laranda would love that.

  Cassi swallowed the lump in her throat, glad that her shaking had at last stopped. She had to be unpredictable, to somehow get space between her and the thugs who sought the envelope. Unbidden, a wry smile came to her lips. On the message, Laranda had told her to run fast and far.

  That’s exactly what I’ll do, Cassi thought. I’ll drive to Provo. No one would expect that, not yet. She’d get to Robert and find help. Laranda hadn’t won yet.

  Cassi’s felt a sharp ache in her heart when she thought about leaving Jared behind, especially if he was with Laranda, but she had no way of knowing that he was even still in San Diego, much less California. Staying here to get killed certainly wasn’t going to help him escape. Only Robert could help her keep the envelope safe, and maybe uncover its mystery.

  Her eyes went automatically to the gas gauge. Nearly full. Provo was a long way, but a full tank might get her as far as Las Vegas, where she could fill up again with the money Quentin had given her.

  Once she had decided, her fears lessened considerably. Help was on its way.

  A terrible thought came much later as Cassi entered Nevada. If Laranda hadn’t died in that fire at the prison hospital, who had? Who had been tied to the wheelchair and left helplessly to die?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE MORNING CAME TOO EARLY for Jared. If possible, his body ached even more than the night before. Again the guards shoved their breakfast at them, but didn’t go away as they had before. “Hurry,” one grunted. “You have company this morning.”

  Jared glanced at Trent, who shrugged. His unshaven face looked better today, but could still use the contents of a first-aid kit. Since neither had taken a bath in days, they both stunk badly.

  “Who?”
Jared ventured. The guards didn’t reply or even look at them, except to see how close they were to finishing.

  Were they going to question him again? A queasiness settled in his stomach and he had difficulty swallowing his breakfast. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to another beating. Worse, what if they had carried through on their threat and brought Cassi to this horror? If they had, he would have to tell them about the keys and the envelope to protect her—and then nothing would save either of them.

  When Jared and Trent had gulped the last of the eggs, one of the guards grabbed Jared’s elbow and propelled him to the door. Behind him, the other guard grabbed Trent. They climbed the long wood staircase Jared remembered being dragged down the night before—no, two nights ago. Time ran together until he was no longer sure. Trent was breathing heavily when they reached the top, and Jared felt as if his own lungs would collapse. The beatings they had endured were taking their toll.

  The guards propelled them down first one hallway and then another until Jared was thoroughly lost. Surely they hadn’t used this route the first night he was here. And why don’t they put on the blindfolds? he thought. Is this the end? Then why feed us first?

  Wait, they had mentioned a visitor. Jared hoped it was the man with the decisive voice. Even if he ordered another beating, it would be better than seeing Cassi under their control. He would endure anything to prevent her from being hurt.

  The guards opened a door, and Jared expected to see a man waiting for him—someone whose evilness radiated from his being and permeated the room. Instead, the room was empty.

  “There’s a bathroom through there,” one of the guards said. “Get cleaned up. You can choose from the clothes on the bed.”

  For the first time, Jared saw two pairs of khaki pants tossed carelessly on a queen-sized bed, the only furniture in the spacious room. The button-down shirts next to the pant were the same cut and style but different colors. There were underwear and socks as well. Everything had the price tags still on them.

  Jared glanced at Trent uneasily. The guard gave Jared a shove. “Get going. And don’t try nothin’ funny. We’ll be waitin’ right here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of the door.

  Jared picked up all the clothing and headed for the oversized bathroom. Trent followed close behind, shutting the door quickly. Dumping the clothes over a rack, Jared investigated the room. “There’s a window,” he said. “But it’s too small.”

  Trent grinned faintly. “I guess that’s okay. I don’t know if I’d be able to climb out anyway. Those stairs just about killed me.” He began to peel off his clothing, walking unsteadily toward the wide shower with opaque glass doors.

  Trent showered first, with Jared checking on him every few minutes to make sure he hadn’t fainted. While Jared waited for his turn, he checked out the bathroom but found nothing to help them escape. At least here they had a toilet, which was a good sight better than a flimsy cardboard box.

  He saw his own face in the mirror with a full two days’ worth of beard growth. The thick, dark-blond hairs itched, and he longed for a razor blade. He could find none.

  “Are you okay?” Jared asked, tapping on the glass surround on the shower for the third time. He heard the water shut off and a dripping Trent appeared with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Yeah, I was just enjoying the heat. My face sure hurts, though.”

  “I found a first-aid kit under the sink. When I get out, I’ll bandage you up.”

  When Jared emerged from the shower, Trent was dressed. Jared pulled on the other set of clothes, finding them large but serviceable and warm. “Whoever they are, they don’t skimp on money,” Jared said, fingering the thick material.

  “I just wish this whole thing was over,” Trent said. “I wish I’d never received that stupid package.”

  “I still wonder who sent it,” Jared said.

  “Maybe whoever it was will call the police and talk to them.”

  Jared sighed. “If they’re able. They may be in hiding, for all we know.” He shook his head. “Something’s not adding up. If only we had more information.”

  Trent gave a dry chuckle. “I’ve been wishing for less, not more.”

  Jared slapped him gently on the back. “We’ll get through this together.”

  “I keep worrying about Renae,” Trent said, blinking away tears. “She’s an exceptional mother, but five children are never easy. If something should happen to me—”

  “We’ll get you back to her. It’s Cassi I worry about. She never thinks before she acts. Any minute now, I’m expecting her to come in with guns blazing.”

  Trent gave a low chuckle. “You have a point. At least I know Renae will go through regular channels. How about I promise not to worry about Renae if you promise to stop worrying about Cassi? We need to focus on finding a way out of here.”

  “Deal.”

  Jared pulled out the first-aid kit from under the sink and began to bandage Trent’s face. He had just finished when a brief tapping sounded on the door.

  “It looks like our burly friends are getting bored,” Jared said. “Do we dare go out there?” He slapped several small bandages over the worst of his own cuts.

  “I don’t think we have a choice. If we’re any longer, they might break the door in.”

  Jared took a deep breath and left the bathroom. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the pile made by their dirty clothing, the remnants of his former life. The striped polo had been his favorite since Cassi had given it to him on the one-month anniversary of their first meeting. Biting back the longing in his heart, he faced the guards resolutely, vowing to do anything he could to get back to her.

  “Get moving,” snarled the guard closest to the door. He looked meaner than the other, but not by much. Both looked as if they’d sooner kill them than not. Involuntarily, Jared shivered.

  They were led through another hall and then down three shallow steps into an immense room with a vaulted ceiling. All the furnishings were plush and expensive-looking—couches, tables, throw rugs, paintings, sculptures, and knickknacks. “Some mountain cabin,” murmured Trent. “This looks more like the gallery Cassi works at.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it Jared?” came a voice Jared knew all too well. He had heard it in his nightmares long after he had stopped hearing it in real life.

  He stepped past the life-size statue of a mighty warrior, his mind rebelling at the recognition. But there in the middle of the room, next to one of the three clusters of couches, sat a beautiful, smooth-skinned blonde in a wheelchair. She said nothing as he stared at her speechlessly.

  “Welcome,” she said after a few seconds of silence.

  “Laranda!”

  “Yes, it’s me. Out of prison.” She patted the arm of the wheelchair. “Well, out of one prison anyway.” A wistful shadow crossed her flawless face and was gone.

  Pity rose in Jared, but he stamped it out. “So you’re responsible for my being here.”

  She gave a low laugh. “Oh, no, Jared, your own curiosity did that. But I am working with the people who brought you here.” She smiled faintly. “Better be nice to me, Jared, if you want to live.”

  The muscles in Jared’s body tensed, and he willed himself not to act rashly. The guards had retired to the room’s entrance, but their alertness warned him to be careful. Besides, Laranda never liked to be pushed. “Could you get me released?” he asked with as much politeness as he could muster. He glanced at Trent. “Both of us.”

  “Perhaps you overestimate my position,” Laranda said lightly. “I was able to get you moved, but I’m a newcomer to this organization.”

  Forget politeness. “What organization?” Jared nearly yelled, heat rushing to his face. “And how did you get out of prison?”

  “Now, now, Jared. Come sit down, and we’ll discuss this rationally.” She motioned to the couch nearest her wheelchair. Jared glanced at Trent, who gave him an encouraging nod.<
br />
  He walked across the room and sat down. “Okay, Laranda, we’ll play it your way. But I’m not happy about it.”

  “You needn’t be happy about it.” Her green eyes mocked him.

  “Yes, my happiness was always unimportant, wasn’t it? I would have done almost anything for you. I thought we were friends.”

  “Almost is the key word here, Jared,” she said, her voice soft and cold. “But your loyalty did come in handy . . . for a time.”

  Jared didn’t want to remember how many years she had used him to smuggle goods into the country. “Who’s behind this?” he asked. “You couldn’t have escaped from prison alone.”

  “Why, I thought you knew. Big Tommy, of course.”

  Jared nearly choked. “You can’t mean it. He tried to kill you when you cut into his smuggling business. Not to mention me. This is too big, even for you. It’s not too late to quit, to get out.”

  “It is too late,” Laranda said. “I’ve made my choice. Besides, Big Tommy needs a mind like mine.” Her voice turned bitter. “There is more to me than my pretty face and useless legs.”

  “There’ll be no going back.”

  She glared at him, her jaw clenched. “I don’t want to go back. That would mean prison. You should know that’s no place for me. I need to be free.” Her hands gripped a handkerchief in her lap. For the first time Jared noticed she wore a short, tight-fitting white suit, too short for his tastes, but definitely eye-catching. Her legs might not work, but they were every bit as shapely as before the shooting at her gallery had paralyzed her from the waist down.

  “I’ve had to pay too dearly for our last encounter,” Laranda continued, “and so help me, Jared, you will pay dearly, too.”

  Jared blinked at her in surprise. “I stayed with you when you were shot.”

  “Where were you later at the hospital? Did you ever visit me in prison? No! You were with your frumpy girlfriend, that’s where. You pretended you would go to Europe with me, but it was only to save her.”