The doorbell silenced him. He blew out a heavy breath. “I can’t deal with people right now.”
Bailey stood without a word and went to the door. Mitch Calloway, who’d been in the living room, got to it first.
“Oops. Sorry,” Bailey said. “Being home makes me forget.”
“I’ll bet.” He opened the door, and on the porch,
she found Brie’s parents. Remembering how they always gave Pat a hard time, she had to struggle to be civil. “Hello, Joseph, Mariana.”
“Bailey.” Joseph nodded. “We have to talk to Pat.”
“Do you know something?”
“Not yet.”
She stepped aside, let them in and led them to the kitchen. Pat’s expression turned dismal when he saw them, and Joseph said, “We need to speak to you.”
Mariana added, “Sinead, could you leave us alone, please?”
“Dad, don’t make me go.”
“Sinead’s an adult now.” Pat’s voice was raw. “He can stay and hear whatever you say.”
“All right.” Joseph stood tall. “You’re not making any progress with the FBI, Patrick.”
“Clay called more agents in this morning.”
Joseph always treated her with some modicum of respect. “I didn’t know that.
But apparently, they’re just as ineffective as the rest of you. I’m hiring a private detective.”
Pat looked at Bailey. There was a question in his eyes. She said, “I’m not sure that will be allowed. There are government protocols involved. You could impede the investigation.”
“I’ll make my own choices about my daughter.”
He probably couldn’t go his own way, but Pat said anyway, “Do
what you have to, Joseph.”
Mariana grasped the edge of a chair. Bailey had seen her trembling hands. “How could you let this happen to her, Patrick? You probably had another fight the day she left here.”
Her brother’s face turned so bleak it would make a stone cry. Bailey said, “Now, wait just a minute…”
But Patrick intervened. “No, Bay, she’s right.” He faced his son. “We did have
a fight the night before.”
Sinead threw back his chair with such force it banged against the wall. “So what? This isn’t your fault. Some maniac grabbed her.” To his grandparents, he said, “It’s nobody’s fault. Leave my Dad alone.”
Calmly, Patrick put his hand on Sinead’s neck. “Come on, son, let’s go for a walk.”
Both men left the room.
Bailey rounded on the Paresis. She wanted
to rip them apart, but Mariana was crying and Joseph looked devastated. So she said softly, “Emotions are running high. Everybody’s upset. Let me get you some coffee, and we can talk about whether we need your PI.” As she passed Mariana, she squeezed her arm. That was about all she could do for them.
oOo
Brie had an epiphany. Patrick would rescue her if he could, but this was
the third day she’d been imprisoned at the Forbes house, and she realized she had to help herself. Still groggy from the second dose of drugs that morning, she’d taken a nap, dressed in the trousers and shirt laid out for her but donned her own sneakers. She had to be ready at a moment’s notice to take advantage of an opportunity to escape.
Her door unlocked, so she went downstairs and found
Jonathan in the parlor. Listening carefully, she heard no sounds of Harlan in the house. “Hello, Jonathan,” she said.
“There you are, Francesca. Come sit with me.” She took a chair across from him. “You’re looking peaked.”
“I feel a bit down. Would you mind if I fix us some coffee?” Brie needed to clear her head so she could think straighter.
“Francesca, you know we don’t indulge in
caffeine.” He frowned. “Or is this some new need you developed when you…went away?”
Silent for a moment, Brie thought about his phrasing. “Ah, yes, it’s something new.”
“Harlan’s out, so he can’t prepare it for us.”
Because she’d always made time to talk to him when she worked here, she recalled some things he’d told her. “But you like it when I pamper you. You said me doing things
for you makes you feel special.” Reaching across the table, she covered his hand with hers and tried not to cringe. “You
are
special.”
“All right then, let’s go to the kitchen.”
Thankfully, she’d assessed the space to determine how much work had to be done in here. She knew where to find the old-fashioned glass pot that would percolate, but couldn’t remember which cupboard the coffee was
stored in.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
She sighed. And turned to him. “I’m sorry, Jonathan, but those drugs you gave me so early in the day have confused me.” She made her eyes well, which wasn’t hard. She’d wanted to bawl like a baby since she got here. “Could you tell me where the coffee is?”
At his direction, she pulled out a can from a low cupboard. Next to it, she saw a bowl
filled with money. Just dollars and change, but if she needed cash, she now knew where she could get it.
After she put the pot on, she sat down near him to wait. “About the drugs…”
“Harlan and I talked about it. Tonight we’ll switch to pills. He’s out picking them up right now.”
That was better. She might be able to pretend to swallow them. She might even be able to save some and put
them in Jonathan’s tea when Harlan wasn’t around. Not that she couldn’t overpower him herself—at least, she could when she wasn’t doped up. “What about during the day?” They put something in her tea to make her fuzzy during daylight.
“You understand, dear, don’t you? We’re afraid you’ll leave us again.”
She pretended surprise. “Why would I do that? I didn’t leave you of my own accord the
first time.” She bit her lip. Jonathan had told her about that gesture of Francesca’s.
“I’ll ask Harlan.”
“Was it Harlan’s idea to bring me back? If so, I’m indebted to him.”
“Yes. He convinced me you could be…returned to us.”
Us
again. Once again, she wondered what Harlan’s relationship to Francesca had been. She was too old to have been his lover, wasn’t she?
The rich scent
of the coffee soon filled the room. “Will you have some?” she asked, standing.
“A bit.” His face was relaxed, happy. She forced herself not to feel sorry for him. She remembered the FBI training:
Beware of Stockholm syndrome. Don’t get emotionally involved with your kidnappers
.
As she drank from the cup, Brie’s senses sharpened. Unfortunately, her mind went to her family—Pat, her children—and
what they must be thinking. How worried they must be. She made a new goal: to get in touch with them if she couldn’t escape soon.
Jonathan yawned. “I’m afraid this isn’t waking me up. I think I need to lie down. I’ll do it on the couch. First, I’ll take you up to your room.”
“Let me sit with you while you rest. I’ll hold your hand. You always liked that.”
“Did I?”
“Yes. Come along,
dear.”
Jonathan’s eyes glazed over. He let her push him into the living room and assist him onto the couch. She sat beside him and took his hand. “Now, isn’t this nice?”
“Ah, yes, nice.” His lids closed.
When his breathing evened out, she waited a minute or two, then she dropped his hand. Hurrying to the kitchen, she grabbed some money and fled through the garage. She’d just rounded
a copse of trees that obscured the rest of the driveway when she saw a car. Its windows were heavily tinted, but she could make out that there were two men in the front seat.
Another person was in on this?
She started to back up, to turn and run, but she tripped and fell on her face.
oOo
He’d been watching her for so long, wanting her so badly, and now here she was, all
his. He regretted the drugs, regretted what he’d done to her beautiful body to get her back, but it was necessary. The angry bruise on her head, which she’d gotten when she’d fallen to the blacktop, reminded him he had to be more vigilant with her. Hence her return to the attic space and a locked door.
Slowly, he unbuttoned the blouse she wore. Caressed her creamy skin, her full breasts. She
was so lovely he leaned over and kissed her mouth. She tasted sweet and familiar. He couldn’t wait a minute longer to have her. “Wake up, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “Wake up so we can finally be together.”
She lifted her hand to the blindfold over her eyes.
And began to scream bloody murder.
oOo
Worried sick about Brie, Liam paced the office at work. Dinner was
done, even though Gale hadn’t shown up. He’d been acting weird lately. Hell, they all were. He knew the FBI was working around the clock to see if Brie’s disappearance was politically motivated; simultaneously, they’d done background checks and interviews with all her employees, acquaintances and friends. Today they’d started the same process with her clients. Damn, he wished he could help. He racked
his brain for what to do.
Hmm. They’d had a lot of changes here at the bar. Gale Sullivan as cook, Jamie Ralston as waitress. Sweeney and his son, Joe. It was ridiculous to think Sweeney could kidnap anybody, and Jamie was a lightweight. Gale, milquetoast, most of the time. Then he remembered how Jamie flirted with Pat and Gale seemed to follow Brie around like a puppy. They’d all teased Pat
about it.
There was also a supplier who always asked Pat about her, and a delivery guy who once in a while brought her some sweets. He went to the computer to check the pub records for their names and contact information. He started researching.
An hour later, he sat open-mouthed, staring at the notes he’d taken. Gale Sullivan had been accused of stalking his ex-wife and she had a restraining
order out on him. Shit, Pat had told him to do a background check, but Liam had believed he could tell a man’s character without it. And, holy hell, Sweeney had kidnapped his daughter in his younger days.
Deciding to call Agent Carson now, he fished out his phone. Then he caught sight of a picture of Brie, pregnant with Isabella on Pat’s desk.
Brie. Pregnant. Phillip Carson.
He sat
forward abruptly. He remembered a conversation he’d overheard but never told Pat he knew about. Liam had totally forgotten about it…
Brie had come into the pub when she and Pat were still separated. They settled in the corner table, and Liam had given them their privacy. But Liam had left his car keys on the bar and went out to get them. It was then, before he rounded the corner to the other
side of the pub, that he’d heard part of the conversation.
Pat said, “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”
“You’ll be mad. I’m feeling so shitty I don’t think I can handle that.”
“I won’t get mad. I promise. I’ll help.”
One tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m pregnant again.”
“
Leanbh
, that’s wonderful.”
“That’s exactly what you said the first time.”
Recalling those days was
painful. “Tell me we aren’t gonna go through that again. Having a kid while we’re separated.”
“I hope not.”
“Look, I promise I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”
“I hope so.”
“It happened that night I came over last month, right? We haven’t been together since then.”
“No, we haven’t. But Pat, I… You know I was dating Phillip Carson.”
“The FBI guy, right?”
“Uh-huh.
I saw him about five times.”
“I hate that.”
“You’re going to hate this even more. I slept with him.”
Pat took a couple of deep breaths. “I think I can deal with that.”
“Maybe not.”
“Brie, it’s not—my God, it’s not his baby, is it?”
“I don’t know, Patrick.”
His brother was quiet a long time. “Whose baby do you want it to be, Brie?”
“Yours.” She started to cry in
earnest. “Yours, of course. I don’t know why I slept with Phillip. Maybe because I’d never been with anybody else. I didn’t even like it. I love you, Pat. I want to get back together. I’m sure of that now. But if it’s his?”
An even longer pause. “Everything’ll be all right, Brie,” Pat said. His tone was ravaged. “We’ll get back together and have the baby, regardless of whose child it is. I
love you that much…”
Liam had never admired Patrick more.
If Isabella was Carson’s kid, could he have gone haywire if he’d found out? And why the hell would he have asked Brie to organize his mother’s house, if they had that history? Why would he work on this case, which was clearly unethical? There were too many questions to ignore.
Worry skittered up his spine. He called Bailey.
She was at the townhouse because the kids had joined her. “Hi, Bay.”
“Hey, Liam. I was just about ready to head to Paddy’s. You going over?”
“I’m at the pub. I’ll be there later. Bay, I did some research.”
“Now, there’s a surprise.”
“More than you know. Gale Sullivan and Sweeney have some questionable things in their backgrounds.”
“Tell the FBI right away.”
“I will. And
honey, this is going to sound crazy, but I got a gut feeling about somebody else.”
“Who?”
“Agent Phillip Carson. I think Brie dated him right before she and Pat got back together the year you met Clay.” He told her about the reference to an FBI guy named Phillip.
“And he asked her to work at his mother’s house? He got on this case? That’s unethical.”
“Apparently nobody knew about
his history with Brie, but Pat. And he didn’t say anything.”
“I’ll call Clay and tell him. He’ll probably want to talk to you right away.”
“Fine. I’ll wait to hear from him.”
Liam got off the phone, and his whole body drooped. Could this be a break in the case?
oOo
At bedtime, Patrick walked the nursery floor with Isabella, who’d sensed the tension in the house and
was fussy. When she fell asleep against his chest, he put her in her crib and went downstairs—just as the doorbell rang. A man he’d never seen before stood on the porch, but judging by the way he was dressed in a dark suit, he was
fed,
all the way. When Pat opened the door, the man was speaking to Agent Black who was stationed outside.
The man turned to face him. “Mr. O’Neil. I’m Special Agent
Jack Masters. President Wainwright called me few hours ago and sent me here to look into your wife’s disappearance.”