Authors: Alexa Grace
"Just go. Get out of my hair for a while."
"I'm not going anywhere until you get out of the shower. People fall in showers all the time and you were in a major accident today. You may think you're fine, but you're not super-human, Frankie. You need to rest."
Frankie sighed and turned off the water. She grabbed the fluffy white towel Lane offered and wrapped it around her body. She got another towel to dry her hair, and then slipped into her terrycloth robe. She looked at Lane, "Okay, I'm out of the shower. You can go now."
He kissed her forehead and closed the bathroom door behind him. In a few moments, motor of Lane's SUV revved up, then he back out of the driveway.
She wiped the steam from the mirror and gazed at her reflection. There was a strip of bluish green bruising across her nose and swelling beneath each of her eyes. It could have been worse, Frankie thought. She could have lost her life when that car flipped so a little bruising, swelling and cuts were nothing.
Frankie used a wide-tooth comb to rake through her hair, and then she brushed her teeth. Walking into her bedroom, she pulled a white knit tank and a pair of purple cotton pajama shorts out of a dresser drawer and slipped them on. She pulled down the comforter on her bed and fluffed the pillows. Suddenly a nap sounded very, very good. She lay down on the bed and rested her head against the pillows.
The front door of the house had a distinctive squeak when opened. She heard that sound and opened her eyes. Someone was in the house. She'd heard the motor of Lane's SUV as he left for the drug store. Frankie heard the faint sound of footsteps in the foyer as if someone were trying to be especially quiet. She reached for her bedside table drawer and quietly pulled it open to get her Glock. But it wasn't there. Then she remembered she'd left it in her purse that was still in Lane's car.
Frankie heard the footsteps again, this time on the steps of the staircase. Someone was headed upstairs. She looked into the drawer again for her stun gun, pepper spray, or knife. Anything! Then she remembered she'd put these things in her backpack the last time they did surveillance. Damn it. Why didn't she put something back in the drawer?
She listened to the sound of footsteps in the hallway as the intruder headed for Lane's room. Lane's bedroom door opened, and then a second later, it closed. The footsteps were now coming toward
her
room. She froze. Time had run out to do anything but pretend she was asleep until she could make a move. She closed her eyes. She hadn't turned on a lamp so the only light came from the bathroom. The footsteps drew closer and closer, until in the slits of her eyes she could see David Chambers standing in her doorframe holding a revolver in his hand.
Still pretending to be asleep, peeking through the slits of her eyes, she watched him cross the room to the end of her bed. As he slowly moved to the side of the bed and moved closer to her, she mentally prepared to fight. A couple more steps and she'd make her move.
David was so close she could hear him breathing, when she quickly kicked her long leg and sent the gun flying to the other side of the room. Surprised, he staggered backward. She jumped to her feet to kick him again, but he grabbed her left arm. Swiftly, she brought her right fist down and delivered a hard blow to the bridge of his nose. He howled as blood sprayed all over her and the wall. She didn't stop. She spun and kicked but missed his groin. He pushed her away, crashing her against the wall. He raced toward her and tried to get a grip on her throat, but she fisted her hand, brought up her arm and slammed her fist into a cluster of nerves she knew resided in the side of his neck. He dropped his hands and looked confused. She then brought her fist up and smashed into the same area of his neck again. He staggered back, got his balance and headed for her again. This time she tightened her fist and hammered his ear and watched as he slumped to the floor, slipping into unconsciousness.
She was breathing hard, her adrenalin at full speed. She dove across the bed and found his gun lying on the floor on the other side. She got to her feet and pointed the gun at him. He lay motionless on the floor, clearly unconscious.
David Chambers was here to kill her. Now she was certain he was driving the black car that rammed her Miata. He was undoubtedly sent here to finish the job by Dr. Eric Caine, who was his employer and directed his every move. She nudged at David's leg to ensure he was still unconscious, and then she searched his pockets and found his car keys. She grabbed her Reeboks out of the closet and ran down the stairs. In the coat closet in the foyer, she grabbed her backpack, flung open the front door and ran.
She didn't stop running until she got to the Lincoln Town Car. She dived inside, locked the doors and turned the ignition. She put David's gun, her shoes, and backpack on the passenger seat. The good doctor was about to get an uninvited visitor.
Three policemen and Tim Brennan stood in a huddle discussing the results of their house search for Jennifer. Not one had a thing to add to the discussion. They'd found no one who had seen Jennifer, nor was she in any of the homes that the residents freely agreed to have them search.
Frustrated, Tim walked back to his car to call Blake Stone to see when his county's scuba diver team would arrive, and to tell him he'd made reservations for them in the same hotel where he was staying. They'd start out early the next morning to search the lake.
Paul Vance watched the scene as he sat in his car that was parked in the driveway of an empty house down the road. He couldn't get too close but he could see enough to let him figure out what was going on. For some reason, her father and the police had targeted this area to do a house to house search for Jennifer. And judging from the body language and gestures of the cops in the huddle, they didn't find her or information that would help them locate her.
Paul slumped down in his seat so Tim Brennan wouldn't notice him as he drove past to get to the main road. He fired up his car and followed.
Jennifer Brennan had spent the day concentrating on how she could escape. She'd spent a lot time considering the basement windows. They were too high up for her to reach by jumping, so she tried the dresser. First she pulled out each drawer and set it aside. Standing on one side of it, she tried to shove it toward the high wall lined with windows at the top. She pushed and then stopped to rest. Then she pushed again as hard as she could, throwing her body against the dresser. A sharp pain ripped through her midsection making her gasp. She bent, holding herself, riding out the pain until finally she was able to get to the bed to sit down. Jennifer cried as she held herself and rocked, terrified now that she may have hurt the baby.
The pain stopped and she noticed the gap left by the now removed drawer. There was something metallic on the floor of the dresser. She moved closer to see and discovered four large screws bolted the piece of furniture to the floor.
She thought about the planning that went into her abduction and imprisonment. Obviously, Dr. Caine had put a lot of thought into the room where he'd keep her. Soundproofing foam lined the walls so no one would hear her cries for help. Every piece of furniture was bolted to the floor so it could not be moved.
Why was he keeping her alive? They'd killed Ally Black. Jennifer was sure of it. So why was she still alive? She knew too much and she'd stupidly gone to Dr. Caine's office and shared with him just how much she knew and suspected. She should have gone to the police. But then, how could she have done that and kept her pregnancy a secret from her father?
It was then she felt a flutter. She moved her hand down to cover her baby bump. There it was again, a flicker of movement within her as light as the brushing of butterfly wings. Her baby had moved. Filled with wonder, she stared at her tummy. The wonder was swiftly replaced with terror as the realization hit her. He was keeping her alive for her
baby
.
In his hotel room, Tim Brennan tossed his cell phone on the bed and slumped into one of the chairs at the round table. He'd just called his wife, Megan, and lied to her yet again. She sensed something was wrong. He could hear it in her voice. They'd known and loved each other for a long time. She knew him.
At one point, she'd asked him where he was staying and he'd almost blurted out Bloomington, but stopped himself and said Indianapolis. Telling her he was in Bloomington would have been a huge mistake that would have led to her questions about Jennifer. She would have known that he'd never have stayed in Bloomington without seeing his daughter. So he'd lied.
He wouldn't be able to keep this secret much longer. He would have to tell her that the daughter they adored was missing and that he could not find her. The police chief had promised to keep it under wraps for a few more days before they'd go to the media with Jennifer's photo.
He thought of the next day's activities. He'd meet with his four scuba divers for breakfast in the cafe downstairs. They'd plan how they'd conduct their search of the lake, and then they'd head out to Monroe Lake. He hoped they'd find something that would lead them to Jennifer. He prayed it would not be her body.
Tim's cell phone sounded and he plucked it from the bed. "Sheriff Brennan."
"Sir, this is Deputy Tammy Short. I have the cell phone information you requested for Jennifer Brennan."
"Let's hear it."
"For the call history, the last call to the subject occurred at 5:25 p.m. on Sunday. The call was from E. Caine from Bloomington."
"Are you sure that's the name?"
"Yes, sir. E. Caine. For the cell tower history..."
"I don't need that. Thank you, Deputy Short."
Alarm and anger ripped up his spine. Jennifer's last call was from Eric Fucking Caine, owner and operator of the adoption agency from hell. He pulled his badge out of his pocket and threw it on the bed. It was time for him to act like a father of a missing daughter,
not
a sheriff. He pulled his holster from the closet and strapped it on. He pushed his revolver in the holster and threw on a denim jacket to cover it.
He sat at the table, opened the manila folder and flipped through the file until he found a piece of paper that held the one thing he needed — Dr. Eric Caine's home address.
Paul Vance sat in the hotel parking lot having already decided he'd spend another night there sleeping in his car. He glanced up at the full moon. The sky was clear and glittering with stars. He was parked several rows over from Tim Brennan's car and periodically glanced in that direction, although he didn't think the car would be moving anymore today. Mr. Brennan was probably upstairs in his room preparing for bed.
Paul slid his seat back so he could stretch his legs as he prepared for the long night ahead. He grabbed a red plaid football blanket from the back seat and put it on the passenger seat. With the warm June weather, it was unlikely he'd need it for warmth until the early hours of morning.
He closed his eyes for a second, but was too anxious to sleep. Where was Jennifer? If it was the last thing he did in his lifetime, he had to find her and make things right. If he had to walk on fiery coals to get to her, he'd do it. He had to make her believe he was still the man she thought he was before that night she told him she was pregnant.
He opened his eyes and noticed a man leave the hotel building. As he neared his car in the parking lot, he realized the man was Tim Brennan. He adjusted his seat, turned on his car's ignition and prepared to follow him.