The dumb bimbo reacted like a bloodhound catching a scent. “Well, if there’s one thing Assurance prides itself on, Mr. Jackson, it’s customer service. Would you like to join me at my desk while I explain our programs?”
This time the smile that spread over his face was no act. “Lead the way, Ms. Hayward. That’s what I’m here for, to learn the workings of your bank.”
While Dorothy rambled on about low interest loans, competitive money markets, online banking and other services he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about, he crossed one leg over his knee, taking in the security cameras and the two existing exits. He also pinpointed the direction of the vault, while keeping an eye on the customers coming and going.
The bank manager all but gave him a tour, and he suspected she would if he asked. Still, he’d found it―the place he and Ramirez would strike in less than a week. Drake didn’t want to arouse suspicion. At five minutes till five, the lobby was about to close. If Melanie had used the drive-thru, then he’d missed her completely. It was time to switch to plan B, and wait for her to leave Pinnacle Creations after hours.
The inner voices were ruthless now, shouting over the windbag’s spiel that he’d missed his chance. His right hand, which he’d been resting on his knee, started to shake. He squeezed it tight, ready to blow the manager off, when an exiting bank customer held the door open.
And then she walked in.
Fifteen years of hate slammed into Drake. Dumbstruck, he almost locked gazes with Melanie as she passed by, but at the last moment, he had the presence of mind to turn his head.
“So Mr. Jackson, if there’s nothing else?” Dorothy said.
He reached inside his sports coat, ready to chuck it all.
“Mr. Jackson?” Dorothy said louder. “Is there something else?”
Drake came to his feet, as the whore who’d taken everything from him joked with some teller. Tossing the banking pamphlets onto the manager’s desk, a low growl made its way up his throat. “Didn’t you hear what I said? My ol’ lady makes the fucking decisions. Woman’s got me by the balls.”
Dorothy’s face went pasty white. If Drake weren’t so livid, he might’ve laughed. But fifteen years ago, the woman talking to the teller had wiped away his sense of humor. It was time to get it back. Drake walked out of the building to wait.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Her emotions more settled, Mel stopped at Starbucks on her way back from the bank. She ordered two coffee mochas and returned to the shop. This close to rush hour, traffic was wild on I-25, but it didn’t matter, she was in no particular hurry.
She drove into the lot, and against store policy parked under a tree, close to the shop. With no customers coming and going, it wasn’t like she was taking anyone’s space. As she stepped inside, the bell tinkled overhead and Chloe looked up. She’d cleared the remaining shelves and was in a glass-cleaning frenzy.
Mel cleared her throat, to which her friend simply glanced sideways at Mel and returned to her polishing. Mel winced. She deserved the cold shoulder and more. “I brought you a peace offering, Chloe,” she said, moving toward her kneeling co-worker. “I was awful to you. I am out of sorts over Joe and I took it out on you. Forgive me?”
Chloe rose and dusted off her knees. Accepting the drink, she said, “If that’s what I think it is, I’ll forgive you anything. I’m sorry, too, Mel. Your personal life is none of my business.”
Relieved the awkwardness was over between them, Mel surveyed the store. “Wow, you made progress while I was gone.”
Chloe blew a blond strand out of her eyes and shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t like customers were beating down the door. By the way, you forgot your cell phone again.”
Mel groaned. In Cañon City, she’d never needed one. She kept forgetting to take it with her when she went out.
Winking, Chloe said, “Lucky for you, I can’t mind my own business. Don’t worry. I answered it. Luke called. There’s some kind of coach’s meeting, so practice will be over early. He said it’s your turn to pick up.”
“What time?”
“Six-thirty.”
Thirty minutes from now. “Thanks, Chloe. I’ll close up shop if you want to head out.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. After I pick up the guys, I’m going home to soak in a tub.”
Chloe gathered her belongings and said, “Sounds grand. See you tomorrow.”
Mel saw Chloe to the door, then turned the lock and flipped the closed sign. She’d just drawn the shade when three rapid taps sounded on the glass.
Unlocking the door, she grinned, “What’d you forget?”
But it wasn’t her friend. A man sporting the look of Pinnacle Designs’ wealthy customers stood at the door.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” Couldn’t he read the sign? Ordinarily, she’d let him in, complete a rush order and hope for repeat business. But with little notice that practice had ended early again, she had to get to Coronado. Hiding her irritation, Mel said, “We’re closed, sir.”
It was then that she settled fully on his features. And when he smiled, she felt the blood drain from her face.
“It’s been a while, Melanie.”
Before she could respond, he shoved her. She flew backwards, striking the back of her head as she crashed against the counter. Instantly nauseated, she tasted bile. Reeling, she tried to rise from the floor, but as dizziness swamped her, she went down again.
He seemed bigger than she remembered. Prison had transformed a lanky young man into a terrifying wall of muscle. He relocked the door, drew out a small gun and advanced on her. “Closed, huh?” He yanked her upright. Then wrapping her in a python-like crush, he jammed the weapon against her temple. “Not to me, bitch, you’re never closed. In fact, I’d say, you’re just about to open.”
Mel had been harangued by dreams over the years. She willed herself to wake up from this one. But dear God, this wasn’t a nightmare. Drake Maxwell had found her.
Chapter Forty
With Mel picking up the boys, Joe used the extra time to go through his backlog of paperwork. A few days off and he was seriously behind. He felt a moment’s guilt about reverting to his old ways and neglecting his son.
No doubt Mel would object. But then objections were meant to be one-sided. She certainly hadn’t given him any choice when she made the decision to end things between them. And although Joe hated the ruling, it didn’t mean he couldn’t admit it was a wise one.
Melanie would never take out her frustrations on Matt, Joe knew that much. His son and Luke would stay friends. As for Joe and Mel, they’d become passing acquaintances.
Acquaintances. Joe grabbed a pencil and snapped it in two. When it came to Melanie, an occasional hello was the last thing he wanted.
His cell phone rang, pulling him from his funk. “Crandall.”
“Dad, hey. Are you picking up, or is Mrs. Norris?”
“It’s Mel’s turn, why?”
“She’s not here yet.
“Did she know about the coach’s meeting?”
“I don’t know. Luke left a message with someone from her work.”
Great. Who knew what kind of mix-up she’d received second hand. “Who’d Luke leave the message with?”
“Beats me.”
“Was it Aaron?”
“I don’t know, Dad. Jesus.”
“Watch your mouth and answer my question.”
Matt let out a huff. “They said she was at the bank. Some lady took the message. Look, she’s twenty minutes late, and Riley said he’d give us a ride. Is it cool if we go with him?”
“Sure. But try Mrs. Norris again in case she’s on her way. I’m leaving here in a few minutes. See you at home.”
At home, a short while later, Joe found Matt taking a frozen pi
zza out of a box. “Luke at his house?”
The boy nodded.
“You get hold of Mrs. Norris?”
“Not yet.”
Joe glanced at his watch. Seven thirty on the nose. Normally, practice ended at eight. She obviously didn’t get the message about the coach’s meeting. Joe shook his head. If she was out shopping, sticking to the original schedule, and went to the school, she wouldn’t be happy that no one was there to meet her.
His first thought was to drive to Coronado and be there when she arrived. He nixed that idea as soon as it formed. She’d made her position clear.
Respecting her wishes, Joe picked up the phone and tried her again.
Chapter Forty-one
Drake turned off the lights and pushed Mel into the rear of the store. The back of her head was splitting. Close to retching, she sought refuge against a floral refrigerator and slumped to the floor.
Watching him pace, she tried to swallow, but fear dried her throat. Her lungs couldn’t collect enough air, and despite the cool workroom, sweat soaked her body.
Think, Mel, think.
It was as though the madman had read her thoughts. He stopped pacing, and with a glassy-eyed leer, lowered himself to her level. “Ah, did I hurt you?” Before she could respond, he added, “Did it feel anything like jumping from a semi to escape a trucker who left your bleeding body to rot?”
Oh, God. “Drake, listen to me.” The words felt like they’d come from outside her body.
He pressed the gun to her cheek. “No. You listen to me. Know what I thought about night after night in that cell? I thought how I’d tried to help you, how for once in my life I gave a damn, and look how you repaid me.”
“I was grateful.” Mel held out her hands. “But you wanted to kill that poor clerk simply for earning a living. I―I had to stop you. What do you want? Money? For me to beg?”
A snarl formed over his lips, and the man she’d once considered stage handsome became a creature grotesque and ugly. “What do I want? Now that’s a loaded question. Man, look at you all cleaned up. Fucking hot.”
She turned away. But from her peripheral vision, she saw him lift his shirt to reveal teardrop prison tattoos and a scar that ran across his torso. He wore three, which if she recalled correctly meant one for every five years he’d been in prison.
He pointed to the scar. “Know what this is?”
She didn’t meet his gaze, nor did she answer.
He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “I asked you a question.”
Her heart stuttered. “What is it?”
“It’s from the first time I got shanked. I was in the shower, and a gang introduced me to the system. While they held me down and stuck me, the guards heard me screaming. Know what they did?”
She shook her head desperately.
“Nothing,” Drake replied. “Know who I blamed?”
“The gang members?” She kept her voice soft as she attempted to reason.
He laughed. “Nice try. You. I blamed you.”
“Remember how you said your friends called you Mel?” He positioned the gun at her neck. “I’ve thought about that a lot over the years, Melanie. You said we were friends. I took care of you, saved you from being raped, God knows what else.”
She flinched.
“Ah, I’m scaring you.” He moved the gun downward and stroked the barrel over her breast. “Very nice. Maybe that trucker had the right idea, after all.”
She closed her eyes.
“I should have fucked your brains out and left you half-dead for the coyotes and scorpions to finish off.”
Opening her eyes, she summoned anger to counteract fear. She couldn’t let this bastard win. She ordered her mind to focus. Her car. It was parked out front. The boys. She was overdue to pick them up. Surely they were concerned by now. Her thoughts turned to Joe. Maybe Luke had already called him. Oh, no, Luke. This would destroy him.
Drake reached for her just as her cell phone rang in the display area. It was tucked in a drawer below the cash register.
“What’s that?” He glanced toward the front of the store.
“My phone.”
“Who’s calling you?”
“My husband.” Her tongue tripped over the lie.
“You got married again? So soon?”
Her panic deepened. Exactly how much did he know about her?
“Figures. A bitch like you wouldn’t wait to find another meal ticket. Too bad. The groom’s about to become a widower.”
Relieved that he’d bought her lie, Mel said, “I should answer it. If I don’t, he’ll come looking for me. He may already be on his way.”
“If he shows up, he’s dead.” Drake jerked her to her feet.
She stumbled as he dragged her to the display area. By the time they reached the counter, the phone had stopped ringing. Drake flipped it open. Five voice mails had been left on the phone, the last one from Joe. Her hopes surged. If she could somehow call, talk to him as a wife would a husband, it would tip him off that she was in trouble. “Let me call him back so he doesn’t come looking for me.”
“Yeah, like I’d ever trust you again.” He dropped the phone on the floor, then with the heel of his boot, stomped down on her lifeline. “You won’t be leaving hints for anyone. Hope you said good-bye to the hubby this morning ’cause you’ll never see him again.”
Mel stared at the shattered phone. Frantic, she wracked her brain for a means of escape. Nearby businesses had already closed. Drake and the counter stood between her and the front door. If she made a break for it, and tried for the rear exit she risked a bullet in her back.
She didn’t like the wild look and sense of finality in his eyes. Eyeing the clock, she noted the time read seven-thirty-five. Oh, Joe, forget what I said. I need you.
Reasoning with Drake was useless, but she had to try. “If you kill me, this time you’ll be executed. Do you want that? You’re free now. I swear, if you let me go, I won’t say a word.”
He reached under the counter and grabbed her purse. “After all this time I’ve waited to get my hands on you, you think I’d let you go now?”
He scanned the room and kicked her inoperable phone under the counter. Then the angry look seeped from his face, replaced by a sneer. “Come here, little girl.”
Shaking violently, she said, “No.”
Drake took a step toward her, raised his weapon. “Say good-bye, Melanie.”
She emitted a blood curdling scream.
Chapter Forty-two
At eight, Joe disregarded his promise to Melanie and circled Coronado’s parking lot in search of her Corolla. When he didn’t find it, nervous energy pulsed through him. Good God, where was she?
He told himself not to panic. He’d feel ridiculous when she appeared and he’d been frantic for nothing. But as the minutes ticked by, so did his distress. Although he’d always empathized with parents and people searching for loved ones, he had a new appreciation for what they went through.
At ten after eight, his cell phone rang. Finally. He released the air from his lungs. But it wasn’t Mel. The caller was Matt, and the butterflies in Joe’s stomach dropped like stones. “Yeah, Matt, what is it?”
“Dad. Luke’s here.” Matt’s voice was low, agitated. “He’s in the kitchen and he’s freaking out. His mom’s not home, there’s no answer on her cell or at the shop. Is she there?”
Willing her car to materialize, Joe scanned the dark parking lot a final time. “No, son, she’s not.”
“He keeps blabbering about some dude named Maxwell. What’s he talking about, Dad?”
Swallowing over the lump in his throat, Matt’s mention of the ex-con made Joe’s fear tangible. “Someone who may be after her. We don’t know for sure. I should’ve told you. I was resp
ecting her privacy.”
Joe’s gut clenched. With the Givens’ incident turning out to be nothing, along with Mel moving her stuff into storage and getting an alarm, Joe’d grown complacent.
“Matt,” he continued. “I’m heading to the shop. You boys stay together and stay put. Set the alarm. To be on the safe side, I’m going to order a unit to patrol the neighborhood.”
Matt lowered his voice. “You think this Maxwell creep’s got her?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Joe replied. “I don’t care how you do it, but keep Luke under control. Beat the hell out of the punching bag, race up the stairs a thousand times, but don’t let him fly off half-cocked.”
“Okay,” Matt said uncertainly.
Hitting his lights, Joe tore out of the high school parking lot. “We’re probably overreacting. I’ll wager she’s just fine.”
Joe ordered two squad cars, one to monitor his neighborhood and one for back-up at Melanie’s place of employment. He negotiated the twenty minute drive in ten and swung into the parking lot. At the sight of Mel’s white Corolla, his heart thundered in his chest.
God, I know I don’t pray enough, but this isn’t for me. Please, keep her safe.
He drew his Glock as a squad car with flashing lights on silent response raced into the parking lot, along with another cruiser that must’ve been in the vicinity behind it. He directed the scurrying cops via hand signals, then tried the door. Ready to break the glass if need be, he found it unnecessary. The store stood in pitch black surroundings, and the door was unlocked.
His system on turbo-charge, he entered the store. He signaled one cop to take the showroom, the other to secure the perimeter. Joe raised his weapon and strode to the storeroom. The night was cold; it might as well have been a heat wave. As adrenaline rushed through his system, he forced himself to prepare for what he might find.
When every inch of the interior had been searched, Joe and the cop on the inside rendezvoused. “All clear,” Joe said, as he flipped on the store’s lights at the same time he released his breath.
Donnell Ann Bell Page 28
