Jock didn’t listen to the rest. He tuned him out, brushed him off and stumbled into the room. White.
White curtains on the boarded windows, painted to look like scenes.
White bedspread. White rugs. White pillows on the rocker. A white frame on the vanity.
One of the detectives went to the closet and peered in. White dresses, gowns, robes, suits hung on padded hangers. Shoes marched in rows across the top shelf.
On the bed lay the garment bag. The tag in it read: Katherine’s dress.
Jock took a deep breath and looked to the side.
White lingerie.
Bastard. But she wasn’t here.
Wasn’t here dressed as a bride in hell. After this, when he found her, and he damned well would, he was going to tell her she wasn’t wearing a white gown to their wedding. Any color but white.
The policeman nudged a wooden box. The frame and back was mahogany. The glass was fingerprint-free.
Six curls of hair were looped and stuck to the back of the box. Above each curl was a jeweled ring hung on a small hook.
“Hell,” the detective said. He looked at the box, looked at Jock. “You know what this is?”
“Something tells me it isn’t a scrapbook.”
The detective shook his head. “Might as well be. Wonder who they are?”
Jock didn’t know, and right now he didn’t care. She wasn’t here.
She wasn’t in this room, thank Christ.
Kaitie wasn’t in the house.
“How did he get here?” he asked.
“We didn’t see him drive up,” Detective Andrews told him.
He motioned to all the stuff on the bed. The bag was opened, partially zipped, with the shoe box in the bottom, a dresser drawer not all the way shut.
“He was packing.”
The detective looked at the clothes, at the closet, at the door and nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Jock checked his watch. He’d broken every speeding law created. “He couldn’t have had time to take her anywhere. Not really. He was here packing. So the car he was in, the car he left her in has to be close, right?”
The detective looked at him, seemed to think about it and nodded again. “We kept in radio contact with the state boy giving chase, the city cops when they crossed over, though the state boy stayed with them. You’re right, doubtful he had time to change cars. Though not impossible. Just unlikely.”
Jock ran from the room, passed the other detective, who was talking to a patrolman and the chief.
The latter followed Jock and Andrews up and into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” the chief asked.
Jock didn’t wait to answer and left that with Andrews. He heard more sirens. But he didn’t care. He took off down the street and noticed Andrews across the street doing the same. Driveways were still empty for the most part. One woman was unloading kids from her car and waved at them. She was on Andrews’s side, so the cop stopped to talk to her. He walked five blocks, then made his way back, checking the side streets.
Where was Kaitlyn?
Chapter 11
Noises filtered through and Kaitlyn tried to concentrate, but things were fuzzy, fuzzy and warbled.
She closed her eyes, opened them again, but it was still dark. Sort of. Dark and smelly.
Where was she? She took a careful breath. Musk. Dust. Old papers. Rubber. Fuel.
Where was she? She tried to roll over but realized she was cramped. Kaitlyn sat up and hit her head on something . . .
Rubbing it, she tried to think. Why couldn’t she think?
What was the last thing she remembered?
She remembered saying bye to Pat, remembered seeing Nathaniel against the black Caddy. She was going on a date tonight with Jock. A date. With Jock.
Nathaniel.
And Landon’s voice in her ear, his arm tight around her chest pulling her back. The sting in her neck.
“Oh, God.”
Memories tumbled and slammed in her mind. He’d taken her. She had a vague memory of falling, of lying on a seat.
Where was she?
She put her hands out, up, and realized there was a top. Frantically she ran her hands along the sides and realized one side was closer than the other.
“Think. Do not panic. Stop. Take a deep breath, Kaitlyn, m’girl,” she muttered in Grammy’s accent. “Think.”
Had he put her in a coffin?
No. No, she realized. The sides were too far for a casket, thank God.
Rubber. She smelled rubber and the faint scent of gasoline.
“Okay. Think this through logically. He kidnapped you.” She rubbed the side of her neck and suddenly remembered the police.
Nathaniel saw what happened. He’d let Jock know and hopefully the police would come soon. Surely they’d been followed.
So where was she now? Kaitlyn turned and looked, scooted and realized she could faintly make out the lid of the trunk. Light. A faint light.
She turned her head until she could see the red glow of the taillight down near the floor of the trunk.
Kaitlyn could
not
believe the bastard had put her in the trunk!
A line of round red lights went from one side of the car to the other.
She turned on her side to see better, even if that made the space seem more cramped. Okay, maybe she could get the taillights out?
Or she could try yelling.
“Help! Help!” she yelled, kicking the roof of the trunk. “Let me out! I’m in here!”
She waited but no one heard her. She listened but there was nothing. No sounds of traffic. She thought she heard a dog bark but wasn’t sure.
Kaitlyn felt around the floor of the trunk.
At least it was clean. She frowned. This was not Landon’s car. His car was a Mercedes. She had no idea what this one was, but she knew it wasn’t his.
Who had her?
It had been Landon’s voice, and did it even matter? Right now she needed to focus on getting out of here.
She felt a tire. A tire.
There would be a jack, or a tire iron. Or . . .
A long metal stick?
She grabbed it and pulled it close to her face. A screwdriver. Okay. And then she found the tire iron. Was the tire bolted down? She squirmed over to it and shoved the tire. It moved.
Perfect.
There should be a jack and she could always push the lid of the trunk up.
She shivered.
It was November and the days were shorter, the temperatures dropping faster. She pulled her sweater closer to her as she felt around and didn’t find the jack. She shoved the tire again and it scooched up and stopped, she assumed against the back of the backseat.
Feeling under the edge of it, she realized there was a space for a jack but no jack.
Where the hell was the jack? Didn’t all cars have them? Granted, she’d never actually owned a car, but she remembered her father teaching her how to change a tire. The jack was supposed to be with the tire.
She huffed out a breath and laid back down, her eyes better adjusted.
A siren screamed by and parked somewhere near.
The sound continued.
She beat again on the trunk lid, kicked it with her feet and yelled.
Not that anyone heard her. The stupid siren continued to whine and it wasn’t helping her.
Damn it!
Where was Jock when she needed him?
Riding to the rescue, she was sure.
He’d come for her. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be sitting on top of the trunk rather than in it.
Feeling around for the screwdriver, she realized it would be a great weapon if Dr. Dick came back for her.
She wanted out of here. Wanted Jock. Wanted to be at the hotel.
And she was hungry.
“Focus.” She took the screwdriver and jammed it against the light, through the round hole. Again and again she beat at the stupid thing until finally she heard it crack.
Perfect. A piece of the red plastic fell away and sunlight lasered through the hole.
She squinted. That wasn’t what she’d wanted. It took some maneuvering, but she wedged the flat of the screwdriver farther up so that it caught the edge of the light, or she hoped so. Using the edge of the hole as a fulcrum, she applied pressure hoping, hoping, hoping.
“Come on,” she whispered. The screwdriver slipped and she cut her knuckles on the metal.
Again she tried and again it slipped. Finally she managed to pry a bit of the edge of the stupid light away from the car. She kept at it and it seemed to take her forever, but she finally managed to get one of the long taillights off the back of the car. There were two round holes that she could fit her hand through.
Instead she wiggled down so her mouth was even and started to yell.
• • •
Jock made it back to the house and passed it, walking up the other direction.
The bastard had to have parked his car here somewhere; otherwise, how would he take his possessions with him?
Then he saw it. He yelled, ran across the street without looking and held up a hand as a car’s brake’s squealed.
Andrews was running up the sidewalk toward him.
Sirens still wailed in the air as a new police car pulled onto the street.
He ran over the yard to the car and jerked open the passenger door. No one was in the front seat. He thought he heard a faint sound, but the damned siren drowned it out. He looked in the back. Nothing. There was nothing. Other than her white nurse’s cap lying on the back floorboard.
“Shit,” Andrews said and radioed to the others. “Cut the damned siren!”
Kaitie. Where was Kaitie?
The siren cut mid-wail.
“Where the hell is she?” he yelled and thumped his fist on the roof.
Something thumped back. “Right here!”
He stilled.
“Would you please stop throwing a fit and let me out of here?” her voice snapped.
It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
He hurried to the trunk, saw the long taillight lying on the driveway, and bent down.
Her hand reached out to him and he caught it, kissed it and saw her wrist and knuckles were bloody.
The trunk. “He locked you in the damned trunk?”
“No, I locked myself in the bloody thing,” she said through the hole. “Get me out of here, Jock.”
Andrews laughed. “We’ll have you out in a minute, ma’am.”
“Who’s that?” she asked him.
He kissed her hand again. “Detective Andrews.”
“Took you long enough. I finally found the jack, which I have to say was not easy because it was not where it was supposed to be. But I’ve got the jack together in here, I just can’t decide if I should put it near the latch thing or the side of the trunk.”
The jack.
His girl had found the jack, and something to take out the taillight.
“Given enough time, you would have saved yourself.”
“Possibly, but you’re here, so be my knight and open the damned trunk!” she hissed.
Jock laughed. “Yes, m’lady. Your wish is my command.”
He heard her snort as he stood. “If only. But for now I’ll agree. I just want out. It’s dark and it’s tight in here and I don’t like it. I was having a great day at work,” she chattered.
He opened the car and saw the keys were not inside, or in the visor or under the seat.
Damn it.
“We could try another key. Sometimes works with my mom’s car when she loses her keys. My uncle had a spare to some other car that was newer but it fit Mom’s doors.”
“You could take out the backseat,” Kaitlyn offered. “Though how anyone could fit through that tiny space is a mystery, but I’m more than willing to try.”
“Kaitie,” he said, squatting back down. “We’ll get you out, I promise.”
“Sometime soon?” she asked sweetly.
He couldn’t hold back the grin.
“What happened to your hands?” she asked. She reached through the hole, scraping along metal as she reached for him.
He took her hand again. “Nothing, and stop that. You’re tearing your wrist and hand up.”
He started to stand but she held on to his hand.
“Where are you going?”
“To find the key.”
“Like I said, we could try other keys,” Andrews offered.
He shook his head. “No, he has the keys on him.”
Andrews nodded and radioed for his partner to check for keys.
Sure enough, minutes later the partner and the chief jogged over to them. Neighbors were now out on their lawns watching. Jock didn’t care.
He squatted there beside her and held her hand.
“You know, you promised me a date I’d never forget,” she said, her voice echoing from inside. “I rather think, Jock, I’d like a mundane date. Maybe even just room service.”
He nodded. “All right.”
“And I’m going to be so mad if my uniform is ruined. This one is new. And I was making a great impression at my new job! Now what will they think and . . .” Kaitie chattered on as they tried the first key and then the second. Finally he heard the snick of the lock.
Kaitie’s silence only lasted until the trunk lid opened.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I don’t like tight spaces,” she said, all but leaping into his arms.
Jock held her tight against him and lifted her from the dark trunk. She was shivering and her arms were cold to him, her hands icy. He’d thought it was just the one but they were both icy.
How long had she been in the trunk?
Jock kissed her cheeks, her nose, her eyes. Finally her mouth. Her arms wrapped around him and squeezed.
He kissed her with every last worry and hope that was in him.
She met his kiss, then she jerked back. “Took you long enough!”
Jock threw back his head and laughed. “Kaitie lass, I drove here like a soul escaping hell and thankfully didn’t have a traffic accident. But you’re welcome.” He’d seen she didn’t have a new bruise on her, didn’t have any blood other than on her hand. Her white stockings had a slight tear in them, but other than that, she seemed fine. Thank God.
“Hmmm.” Her eyes narrowed then glanced around, and he felt her tremble. “Where is he? Did he get away again?”
“No. They have him.” Jock jostled her in his arms and started walking toward his car, which was blocked in by the police. He looked at the chief. “I’m taking her to the hotel, you can talk to her there.”
The chief jerked his chin up and then shook his head. “Why is it the thing I remember the most is the trouble you cause?”
“Because he’s just that special,” Kaitie said.
The chief laughed. “I’ll let Dan know you might need him.”
Jock shrugged and carried Kaitie away. He put her gently in the car, and in no time, after the chief made the boys move their cars, he drove them away.
He cranked up the heater.
“Can we go home?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Maybe later after the police talk to you.”
She sighed. “That’s going to ruin our date night.”
He smiled and reached for her hand, careful of the knuckles.
“What did you do to your hands?” she asked.
He shrugged. “What I had to.”
She opened her mouth, shut it and then sighed. “We are a pair, aren’t we?”
He nodded. “That we are, Kaitie lass.”
She frowned as they pulled up to the hotel. “I can’t believe our date is ruined. I had things planned.”
“Really? What did you have planned?”
She shook her head. “It’ll keep. Not today. Today’s been too much and I want special for this and—Oh, let’s just go upstairs. And can you please order me a burger, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since early this morning and I’m so hungry.”
She rambled on as they went through the lobby, talked as they rode the elevator, told him—with plenty of opinions of what she thought of Dr. Dick—exactly what had happened as far as she knew.