“Olivia and Tad!” Oh, God, just what she needed. Just what her father needed. That femme fatale sycophant had been chasing her father for nearly three years now and Tessa feared the woman was actually wearing him down, inch by inch. After all, G.W. was only human, only a man. Being flattered by the attentions of a woman fifteen years his junior would be hard for any man to resist. But the most powerful weapon in Olivia’s arsenal was sex, which she used quite expertly.
“Of course, I telephoned Olivia immediately,” Myrle said. “After all, she loves your father and I knew he’d need her. I mean, she’s practically G.W.’s fiancée, isn’t she?”
Yes, of course. G.W. needed Olivia Sizemore and that worthless son of hers the way he needed another hole in his head. But because Olivia and Myrle had been friends since their days as sorority sisters, her aunt not only had been supporting Olivia’s pursuit, but took every opportunity possible to point out to G.W. what a marvelous wife Olivia would make.
Tessa clenched her teeth, then looked at Lucie, a plea for help in her eyes.
“I’m sure Tessa appreciates your taking the initiative to let Mr. Westbrook’s lady friend know about the situation with his granddaughter,” Lucie said.
Tessa mouthed the words “thank you,” then excused herself on the pretense of needing to take something for her headache. Instead she escaped to the powder room, dropped the commode seat and plopped down as the tears she’d barely been controlling broke free and ran down her cheeks.
“Please, Dante, call soon with good news,” she whispered, as if saying the words aloud gave them more power.
LESLIE ANNE washed her face, brushed her teeth and put on her pajamas, then she eyed the fruit basket the motel had provided. She wasn’t hungry, but she was thirsty and the small bottle of grape juice in the basket looked inviting. After all, she didn’t want to get out and go down the hall to the cola machine. After turning on the TV, she lifted the bottle from the basket. Wonder why the basket isn’t wrapped? She undid the cap on the bottle, pleased that it opened so easily. Often getting caps off could be a major hassle. She sat on the bed, lifted the bottle to her lips and sipped the juice. It was a little warm, but sweet and wet. It would do.
She pulled both pillows out from beneath the spread and propped them against the headboard, then settled in and channel surfed, searching for something of interest. She needed a silly, mindless program to help take her mind off her problems. And she had major problems.
God, I’m so miserable. What am I doing here in a motel room, all alone? I wish I were home in my own bed.
She could go home, couldn’t she? First thing in the morning, she should call her mother and tell her she was coming home. She was an idiot for running off the way she had. What did running away solve? Nothing. If her biological father was a serial murderer, she could run to the ends of the earth and that fact wouldn’t change.
But what if it wasn’t true? What if whoever sent her the package had lied to her? She should go home, show the letter and newspaper clippings to her mother and grandfather, then demand the truth from them.
Leslie Anne finished off the small bottle of juice, then dropped the empty bottle on the floor. The channels were limited on the motel TV, so she decided to stop searching for something to watch. She yawned. Suddenly she felt very drowsy. Maybe the long hours behind the wheel and all the stress she was under had caught up with her.
She yawned again. The room began to spin around and around. What was wrong with her? Unable to sit up any longer, she fell across the bed sideways. When she tried to lift her hand, it seemed to weigh a ton. Her eyelids flickered open and closed of their own accord, as if she had no control over them.
Something was wrong with her. Terribly wrong.
WHEN DANTE and Dom arrived at the motel, he met up with the police lieutenant in charge of the search and pulled the man aside.
“Have you searched the entire hotel?” Dante asked.
“We’ve checked every room on the ground floor and have started on the second floor,” Lieutenant Nesbitt said. “The management isn’t happy that we’re disturbing their guests and at first we weren’t getting much cooperation.”
“Screw the management. We’ve got a sixteen-year-old girl who could be in trouble.”
“I realize the seriousness of this matter, but I don’t have an army at my disposal. Just me and two officers. This is a big motel, in case that fact escaped you.”
“Well, you now have two more men to help knock on doors,” Dante said. “Let’s stop wasting time and get upstairs.”
“Hold on, Mr. Moran,” Nesbitt said. “You should let us handle this.”
“Look, Lieutenant, I’m heading upstairs to search for Leslie Anne Westbrook and the only way you’re going to stop me is to arrest me.”
The policeman grimaced. “Just act official, will you?” Nesbitt told Dante.
“No problem.”
Dante and Dom took the other side of the building from the lieutenant and his two officers. Dom went right and Dante left. First they knocked on the door, then waited for a response. If they didn’t get someone to the door, they’d knock again and inform the guest that this was official police business. One by one the doors either opened or Dante and Dom used the keys, reluctantly provided by the manager, to unlock each door.
Dante knocked on the door to Room 231. No response. He knocked again. “Please open up,” Dante said. “This is official police business. We’re searching for a missing girl whom we believe is in this motel.”
Silence. Dante knocked again, then inserted the key and unlocked the door. The room lay in darkness except for the faint shimmer of artificial light shining through the closed window blinds. At first he thought the room was empty, then he heard a muffled whimper. He felt along the wall for the switch, flicked it on and flooded the room with light. A naked middle-aged man jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with fear. Lying on the bed, naked and obviously drugged, lay a young girl. A young girl who was the spitting image of Amy Smith.
“Hey, it’s okay. She’s my girlfriend,” the naked man said as he started to reach for his pants on the floor.
Dante pulled his Smith & Wesson from his hip holster and aimed it directly at the man’s exposed privates. “You make one move and I’ll blow your balls off. You understand me?”
The guy’s erection went limp. He nodded. “I’m telling you, she’s my girlfriend. Candy. Her name’s Candy.”
“Dom!” Dante shouted. Had they arrived in time to save Leslie Anne from being raped? He sure as hell hoped so.
Dom Shea flew into the room, then skidded to a halt behind Dante. “What have we here?”
“Take care of this pervert, will you?” Dante’s trigger finger itched. God, how he wanted to castrate this slimy bastard. “If he tries anything…”
Dom glanced at the girl lying helplessly on the bed. “Damn!” He walked over to the trembling naked man, jerked his hands behind him and marched him out of the room. “Come on. The police are dying to meet you.”
Dante walked across the room to the bed. He reached down and pulled the sheet over the girl lying there. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror. She opened her mouth. “Help me.” Her words were a shaky, pitiful plea.
Wrapping the sheet securely around her, Dante lifted her up and into his arms. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I’m working with the local police. My name is Dante Moran. I’m with the FBI.” He told a little white lie to soothe the young woman’s fears.
“That man…he—he tried…he was going to…”
“Hush, honey. Don’t try to talk. I’m going to take you to a hospital.”
“I want my mama.” Tears filled the girl’s dark brown eyes.
“Sure thing, Leslie Anne. We’ll get your mama here just as quick as we can.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TESSA RACED into the emergency room, Lucie Evans at her side. On the flight from Fairport to Tuscaloosa, she’d heard Dante’s words
repeating again and again inside her mind and heart. She’s all right. Do you hear me, Tessa? Leslie Anne is okay.
The Dundee agency had arranged for Tessa and Lucie to be transported by helicopter, and it had been all Tessa could do to persuade her father to let her go alone. She’d convinced him that at a time such as this Leslie Anne wanted and needed only her mother. That was true, of course, but she was also worried about her father’s health. At sixty-eight, with high blood pressure and high cholesterol, plus a Type A personality, he was a prime candidate for a heart attack or a stroke. Leslie Anne’s disappearance had put her father in a major tailspin.
“You take care of things here,” she’d told G.W. “Get her room ready and see if you can’t clear everyone else out before I bring her home. She doesn’t need a houseful of family and friends. At least not for a while.”
As they entered the E.R., Lucie lifted her hand and waved at a tall, broad-shouldered man with overly long black hair that curled around his collar. “There’s Dom.” Lucie practically dragged Tessa toward the Dundee agent. “He’ll know where Leslie Anne is.”
The man Lucie had called Dom made his way through the crowded waiting room and came straight toward them. “You made it in record time,” he said.
“Dante told me to get here as quickly as possible,” Lucie replied.
“Where’s Leslie Anne?” Tessa asked.
“Oh, I should have introduced you two,” Lucie said. “Tessa, this is Domingo Shea. Dom, this is our client, Ms. Tessa Westbrook.”
“Ma’am.” He nodded.
She offered him a fragile smile. “Please tell me where my daughter is.”
“She’s in there—” He nodded toward the closed double doors that led to the emergency room’s private cubicles. “Tell the receptionist at the desk over there that you’re Leslie Anne’s mother and they’ll let you go on back.”
From his dark, Latin good looks, Tessa had halfway expected Dom Shea to speak with a Spanish accent, but his voice was pure Southern drawl. A Texas drawl if she didn’t miss her guess, similar to Dante Moran’s.
“Where’s Dante…Mr. Moran?” Tessa asked.
“He’s back there with your daughter,” Dom told her. “Ever since he rescued her, she won’t let him out of her sight.”
“What do you mean rescued?” Tessa’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. “All Dante said when he called was that she’s all right. Was she in an accident?”
“Big mouth.” Lucie elbowed Dom in the ribs.
“Sorry.” He gave Tessa a sympathetic look.
“What happened to my daughter?”
“Dante will explain everything.” Lucie glanced around the waiting room. “No use sharing your personal business with a bunch of strangers, and in a place like this, you never know who’s eavesdropping.”
Tessa nodded, then turned and headed toward the receptionist’s desk. The woman behind the glass-enclosed unit, looked up when Tessa approached.
“Yes, ma’am, may I help you?”
“My daughter, Leslie Anne Westbrook, was brought in earlier tonight. I’d like to see her, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. Go right on back. She’s in examining room number three.”
“Thank you.”
“We allowed her bodyguard to go back with her,” the receptionist said. “I hope that was all right. She was terribly upset when the nurses asked him to leave, so they thought it best to let him stay with her.”
“Yes, that’s perfectly all right.”
Tessa swallowed the tears threatening to choke her. Now was not the time to lose control. She had to be strong. Once beyond the entry doors, she hurried past rooms one and two. Then she saw him. Dante Moran stood outside room number three, his arms crossed over his chest, one foot propped behind the other. The instant he saw her, he came forward, halting when only inches separated them.
“I want to see her,” Tessa said.
“You will. In a couple of minutes. The doctor is completing her examination.”
“What happened to my little girl? And don’t even think about trying to protect me from the truth. Was she in a car wreck?”
Dante shook his head, then clutched Tessa’s shoulders and said, “Let’s take a walk down the hall.”
Instinctively trusting him, she went with him down to the end of the hallway, where they were completely alone. “What is it?” Oh, God, please, please don’t let it be what I’ve feared the most.
“She wasn’t raped,” Dante said.
Tessa let out a loud, semihysterical cry.
Dante put his arm around her shoulders and spoke to her quietly. “The doctor told me that there is no physical evidence of rape, but she went ahead and called for a rape kit and that’s what they’re doing now.” Tessa tensed. Dante stroked her back. “Leslie Anne told me that he didn’t rape her.”
“Tell me everything. I have to know.”
“She had checked into the Bama Motel and according to what she’s told me, some man passed himself off as the motel’s assistant manager, got her to change rooms and left her a fruit basket with what we suspect contained a bottle of grape juice that he’d drugged.”
“He drugged her?”
Is that what my rapist did? Tessa wondered. Did he drug me first, then kidnap and rape me? A part of her was thankful that she could not remember what had happened, that it would forever be a complete blank in her mind. But another part of her wondered how she had wound up the victim of a monstrous serial killer, whose M.O. included rape and torture.
“When I burst into the room, the son of a bitch was on top of her.” Dante tightened his hold around Tessa’s shoulders. “They were both naked, and since Leslie Anne had been drugged, she didn’t have the ability to fight him.”
Unbearable emotional pain ripped through Tessa, a pain so fierce that it exceeded all the physical pain she had endured during her months of recovery after her “accident.” “No…no…no!” There was no agony on earth more brutal than the one felt by a parent on behalf of his or her child. And no love so unconditional as that of a mother and father.
Like a mother tigress, aggressively protective, Tessa wanted to rip apart the person responsible for hurting her baby.
She understood now, as she’d never understood before, how her father must have felt all those years ago when he’d sworn he would move heaven and earth to see her rapist captured and put to death.
Dante turned Tessa straight into his arms and held her protectively against his big body. She allowed herself to yield completely, to give herself over to his care. She couldn’t remember ever instinctively trusting another human being, other than her father, the way she did Dante Moran. And why, she didn’t know. This instant trust and physical attraction puzzled her, even made her question her usual sound judgment. But God, it felt so good to have him here to lean on.
“We’ll take her home to Fairport tonight. I’ve already cleared it with the Tuscaloosa police.” Dante eased Tessa out of his arms. He whipped out a white handkerchief, grasped her chin with one hand and then reached up to dab the tears from the corners of her eyes.
She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
Tessa gazed up into Dante’s eyes, so dark a brown they appeared almost black. What she saw in his intense gaze unnerved her. Longing. That was the only word to describe it. A soul-deep longing. Part sexual, but equally pure, raw emotion. Was what she saw, what she sensed, coming from Dante alone or was it also a reflection of what he was seeing in her eyes?
Forcing herself to break eye contact with him, Tessa cleared her throat, turned around and glanced down the hallway toward room number three. “Mr. Shea told Lucie and me that Leslie Anne wouldn’t let you out of her sight. I want to thank you for not only rescuing my daughter, but for making her feel safe.” And that was the way he made Tessa feel, too. Safe. As if he could protect her from all harm.
Dante clamped his hand down on her shoulder. “She’s one scared young lady. She’s going to need you now more than she ever has in her
life.”
“I know.”
“Yes, I suppose you do.” His voice went deep and whisper soft. “Only too well.”
Clenching her teeth, Tessa swallowed. “I don’t suppose she told you why she ran away from home, did she?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“My greatest fear has always been that someday she’d find out the truth.”
“Did you ever plan to tell her?”
“No.”
Dante’s grip tightened. “My mama used to say that the truth always has a way of coming out.”
“If Leslie Anne found out about—I can’t imagine how it could have happened. At the time, Daddy did everything in his power to keep things hush-hush. He—we didn’t even tell my mother what had really happened.”
“If Leslie Anne did find out that her biological father was—”
Tessa whipped around and glared at Dante. “An inhuman monster. That’s what he was. How could she ever cope with that knowledge?”
“With a great deal of love and understanding. You’ll have to find a way to convince her that she didn’t inherit any dangerously negative traits, that she doesn’t have to worry that the day will come when she’ll become her father’s daughter.”
Tessa gasped. Hearing her own fears voiced aloud shocked her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, all these years, she had wondered if it was possible to inherit criminal tendencies. But Leslie Anne’s gentle, loving personality had allayed those concerns. For the most part. If those hideously ugly concerns existed in the remote corners of Tessa’s heart, how much more prevalent would they be inside Leslie Anne’s heart and mind? Inside her very soul?
“I love my daughter more than anything on earth,” Tessa said. “I’d do anything for her. Anything. I’d lay down and die for her. Can you understand loving someone that much?”
“Yes.”
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