In Broad Daylight (23 page)

do." He gave the woman his cell phone number.

"Now what?" Brenda asked as he flipped the phone shut and put it away.

This was the hard part. "Now we wait."

«^»

Dax led the way outside. "You want to go somewhere and grab a cup of coffee?"

She felt the tension closing in on her again. Tension because of Annie. Tension because of

Dax. She grabbed at anything that could hold it at bay even a second longer. "Might as

well. There's no point in standing around here."

There was a coffee shop less than two miles away from the motel. They drove over. The

morning was sunny, with a humid haze beginning to settle on the city.

Picking up the two containers he'd ordered, Dax turned to face her. "You want to stay

inside?"

Somehow, that felt too confining. She needed space. Brenda indicated a small table with

an umbrella located a few feet away from the entrance.

"Outside." She glanced at the jacket pocket where he kept his phone. "The signal'll be stronger." It was as good an excuse as any.

"Right." Shouldering open the door, Dax followed her to the table. As far as he was

concerned, the signal was already strong, at least the one that was prompting him to be

with her.

To his surprise, when he'd asked her what she wanted, she'd ordered the decaffeinated

coffee. He noticed the face she'd unconsciously made as she took a sip after sitting down.

He'd seen less pained expressions on people who'd swallowed sour milk.

"That good, huh?"

Setting the container on the table, she regarded it with less than affection. "It's like

drinking hot water with a brown crayon in it."

His own was a double espresso, guaranteed to bring all the hairs on his body to attention.

To him, there was no reason to drink coffee if there was no caffeine in it. "You're not

supposed to have caffeine?"

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. Studies reversed themselves, depending on the

month they were done. "Doctors keep changing their minds about that. I figure I might as

well be safe than sorry." She paused to take another sip. It was no better than the first.

She stiffened to stifle a shiver. "Oh, well, at least it's not forever."

He took a long sip of his espresso, letting the thick liquid pour itself through his veins.

"You should have been honest with me, you know."

She raised her eyes to his face in that way that always seemed to make his stomach

throw itself in voluntarily into a knot. "Guilty as charged, Your Honor."

He had no idea where the sudden wave of impatience came from. He did his best to bank

it down. "Then if you know that, why didn't you tell me?"

She pushed the container away. The bottom caught on something uneven on the surface

and nearly tipped over. She caught it just in time. It didn't improve her mood. "Just how

was I supposed to work it into the conversation? 'What's your favorite kind of baby

carriage, Dax? And, oh yes, by the way, I'm pregnant.'"

"No," he said, just managing to keep his tone civil. "But you should have said something."

He paused, gathering himself together, then looked at her. Faults and all, he still wanted

her. "Is it Wade's?"

One look at his face told her he wasn't trying to insult her. Just being a cop, gathering

facts to sort out at will. "You have to ask?"

He blew out a breath. When had life,hislife, gotten so damn complicated? "No, I guess

not. Did he know?"

She shook her head. "No, I found out I was going to be a mother and a widow all on the

same day. Just hours apart," she added quietly. There was a sadness within her, battling to

take over. She refused to let it. "Look, I couldn't find the proper way to tell you without

making it sound as if I was assuming that this—this thing," she said for lack of a proper

term, "between us was becoming a relationship and that it was going somewhere."

His eyes never left her face as she spoke. Dax knew that for the first time in his life, he

wanted a relationship to go somewhere. He wanted it to go all the way up to the altar and

beyond.

But he couldn't just put himself out there without her giving him some indication that she

had strong feelings for him.

"Do you want it to go somewhere?" he finally asked.

Yes, damn it, yes!

The words hovered on her tongue, begging for release. But she was too afraid of making a

fool of herself. She'd already experienced the pain of rejection because of him. What if

after he had all the facts laid before him, it turned out that he didn't feel the same way

about her that she did about him? Then what? She couldn't be asked to bleed twice. Last

night had been enough.

"That's up to you," she replied, her voice devoid of all emotion.

When he didn't say anything immediately, she knew she had her answer. And that answer

was that he didn't want a relationship, that he was only asking so that he could know, not

so that he could respond in kind.

She felt tears closing in on her again. She picked up the container and took another sip in

self defense.

Anything to get her mind away from the pain infiltrating through her. "Brenda—"

But as he reached for her, his cell phone rang. Dax immediately shifted gears. He pulled

his phone his ear as Brenda watched, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"Cavanaugh. Wait, just a minute, give me that location again." He grabbed a napkin, then felt his pockets for a pen. Brenda produced one out of her purse. Nodding at her, he

quickly jotted down the address the person on the other end was reciting to him. Thank

God criminals slipped up. "Thanks. If they use the card again, I want to know." He slapped the cell phone lid closed. "That was the credit card company. Our kidnappers just used the

card. We've got a location."

She was on her feet instantly, her adrenaline rushing. "Where?"

"Gas station, twenty miles from here." Leaving the last of his espresso, he hurried to his vehicle. "Maybe they had to clean up some old business," he speculated.

Something inside of Brenda froze. "I just hope that 'old business' wasn't Annie." Beyond that, she wouldn't allow her mind to venture.

Inside the car, Dax was on the phone again, alerting Nathan to this latest kidnapper

sighting and giving him the address of the gas station.

"I want five people there to fan out in the area," he said as he drove out of the small strip mall parking lot. "If there're any sketches left of the couple or flyers with Annie on them, bring them with you."

Closing the phone, he put it away again. As he did so, he glanced at Brenda's face. "What

are you doing?"

"Praying."

"Yeah," he muttered, looking back on the road. "Me, too."

The gas station attendant identified the man in the sketch after some hemming and

hawing coupled with head scratching and only after Brenda had added a mustache.

"Yeah, he was here. But he was alone."

"Which means," Dax said to Nathan who had arrived on the scene less than a couple of

minutes earlier, "that he's left his partner and the girl somewhere, most likely at a motel."

Nathan frowned as he covertly slanted a look toward Brenda. "Or he's ditched them

both."

They both knew he didn't mean the word ditched. It was a euphemism to spare Brenda's

feelings until the very end. "Let's hope it's the former." Walking away from the attendant, Dax's mind kicked into high gear. "We need a list of all the motels in the area," he told Nathan. "They've been splattered all over the media, he's not going to risk checking into

an upscale hotel with Annie."

If Annie's even with them, Brenda thought, hurrying along in their wake.

They were about to question their third motel manager when Dax's cell phone rang again.

Emotionally worn out, Brenda immediately crossed her fingers as he answered.

The conversation was short, ending with Dax murmuring, "Must be karma," as he hung up.

"What is?"

"That was the credit card company. The woman there said the card was just used at the

Blue Bird Motel, not more than fifteen minutes ago."

She raised her eyes. The faded sign above the manager's office, a tiny building sadly in

need of paint, proclaimed the establishment to be the Blue Bird Motel. "That's this place."

"Bingo."

Stopping, Dax was hitting numbers on his keypad again, calling in his people. They had a

target now.

Two minutes later, he was leading the way into the less than pristine manager's office.

"Morning, folks, what'll it be?" Dressed in a T-shirt that proclaimed the name of a new band on its way up, the young man behind the counter was barely out of his teens. On his

thin face he sported what he probably hoped would pass for the beginning of a goatee. Dax

estimated that a turtle had more hair on its back. "Only got a few rooms left," the clerk was saying. "Season's a busy one."

Dax held up his shield. The clerk paled visibly. His breathing grew dangerously shallow.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, why would you think that?" All sorts of possible tie-ins went through his head. Was this kid involved in the kidnapping, too, somehow?

The young man looked trapped as he stared down at the dirty blotter on the desk. "I only

added ten to the price of the room, honest. He looked like he could pay it." When his head

bobbed up, there was contrition written all over his face. "But I'll give it back, I swear and I'll never do it again." Dark eyes shifted back and forth between him and Brenda. "Jeez, how did you guys find out?"

Dax played along, looking for some kind of leverage in obtaining the man's cooperation.

He'd learned that if you let someone talk long enough, you're bound to get something on

them.

"We're the police, we know everything." He dug into his pocket, producing the sketches.

"These two people come in here wanting a room?"

Appearing to be more than a little petrified, the clerk looked from one sketch to the

other. "Maybe. I'm not that good with faces. But the mustache looks familiar and if you

made her hair darker…"

Disguises. He'd expected as much, Dax thought. "What room did you give them?"

"One-two-oh." The clerk spat the number out. "Why, are they in some kind of trouble, too?"

Brenda pushed her way to the counter. "Was there a little girl with them?"

But the clerk shook his head, his stringy hair waving back and forth. "I didn't see no little girl."

The words cut through her heart. Did that mean…?

"Oh God, Dax."

Dax said nothing, just gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze even though he felt far

from confident himself. The couple had their money, they didn't need the little girl

anymore. That meant they could have disposed of her at any time. Which put them in a

brand new category. Murderers.

"You got the key?" Dax demanded.

The clerk nearly fell over himself as he got a spare out of a rectangular grouping of

cubbyholes with hand-painted numbers above them. The key shook as he held it out to him.

Nathan and the others hadn't arrived yet, but Dax felt he couldn't afford to wait for

them. Every second counted in a situation like this.

He also knew he could rely on Brenda to stay in the car, so he decided to use her.

"Tell them you're the maid bringing them towels," he instructed as they hurried across a weed-covered courtyard. "And once the door's opened, I want you out of the way." He

pinned her with a hard look. "Understood?"

"Understood," she echoed. She only half heard him. Annie had to be with them, she had

to. People didn't just kill little girls in cold blood, they didn't. It was more of a prayer than anything else.

Once at the door marked 120, Dax drew out his service weapon and pointed to Brenda.

She knocked once, then again.

"Yeah?" A thick voice demanded from inside the room.

"Housekeeping, sir. I have towels."

"We've got towels. Go away."

She exchanged looks with Dax. She tried again. "Please, sir, it's my job. The manager'll

fire me if I don't give you these towels."

"All right, all right, give me the freakin' towels," the man growled as he threw open the door. The next second, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. "Run, Cloe," he yelled as he tried to slam the door again.

Dax pushed the door all the way open. "Freeze," he ordered. "You're under arrest."

The sound of approaching sirens mingled with screams and shouts from within the room.

"Where is she?" Moving from behind Dax, Brenda shouted at blonde woman. "Where's

Annie?" When Cloe said nothing, Brenda stepped forward, as if to force it out of the

woman's throat. "I said where's Annie? Tell me where she is or I swear I'll—"

"Mrs. York? Mrs. York!" a muffled voice from the closet cried.

Instantly, Brenda turned from the woman, rushing to the closet. Behind her, she was

vaguely aware that the police had entered the room. From the sound of it, two of them

took the woman prisoner.

Brenda threw open the closet door and her heart caught in her throat. She sank to her

knees. Annie was inside the barren enclosure, tied up and blindfolded. There was a gag

around her mouth as well, but she'd somehow managed to work it loose.

With shaking hands, Brenda quickly undid the blindfold, then the ropes. The little girl

squinted against the light.

Brenda gathered her into her arms, holding the little girl close, fighting her own tears.

"Annie, oh Annie, you're all right. It's all over, baby. You're going home."

Annie said nothing, her face wet with tears. She clung to Brenda as if she would never let