Taken (14 page)

“Or someone was looking for something,” Nick replied soberly. “And they could still be here. I’m going upstairs. Where’s your bedroom?”

“First door on the right. Be careful.” She grabbed an umbrella from the stand next to the front door, just in case she needed a weapon. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Nick dashed up the stairs. She saw him go into her bedroom. “What did you find?” she asked when he didn’t immediately reappear. “Nick?” she called again. She heard a loud bump. God, had someone confronted him?

“Nick, answer me.”

Her nerves jumped; her blood raced. Should she go upstairs? Should she call the police? A dozen ideas col-114

Barbara Freethy

lided in her brain. Then she heard a step behind her.

Someone was on the porch.

She whirled around.

A dark, tall shadow loomed over her. Adrenaline shot through her veins. She swung the umbrella at his head, praying it would stun him long enough for her to get away.

7

The shadow was quicker than she was. The man caught the other end of the umbrella with a sure, swift hand.

Kayla tried to wrestle it away from him, but he was strong and big. She kicked out at him; her boot connected with his shin. He slammed her up against the wall, his forearm against her throat.

For the first time she could see his face. He had dark brown, ruthless eyes. And he wasn’t Evan. Who the hell was he? And why was he trying to strangle her?

Nick came out of nowhere, pulling the man off of her.

She grabbed her throat, still feeling the imprint of his arm against her windpipe. Nick smashed his fist into the intruder’s face. The man stumbled, but bounced back quickly. He shoved Nick up against the wall next to her and yelled, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Nick?”

Kayla gasped. How did this guy know Nick’s name?

Nick looked just as stunned.

For one tense moment, all she could hear was the sound of their ragged breaths beating in time to the grandfather clock nearby. She wasn’t sure how many sec-116

Barbara Freethy

onds had ticked by before Nick said in bemusement,

“J.T.?”

“That’s right,” the man ground out. He let go of Nick and stepped back, putting a hand to his rapidly swelling face. “Hell of a way to greet an old friend.”

“I thought you were attacking Kayla.”

“She swung an umbrella at my head,” he said with a scowl.

“You tried to strangle me,” Kayla countered.

“I was trying to stop you from kicking me in the balls.”

Damn.
She should have gone for that area first. “I thought you had broken into my house. You came up behind me. You startled me. Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is J.T. McIntyre,” he replied. “I work for the FBI.” He pulled an ID out of his pocket and flashed it at her. “I’m assuming that you’re Kayla Sheridan, the one who married Evan Chadwick?”

“Yes —”

“FBI?” Nick interrupted, shock in his tone. He grabbed the ID from J.T.’s hand. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I work in the fraud division, and I’ve been following Evan off and on for the past four years. I understand he took you for a ride, Nick.”

“He stole everything from me while I was out of town,” Nick said. “He even lived in my house for a few weeks.”

“Excuse me.” Kayla felt like she was out of the loop.

“How do you two know each other?”

“We went to school together,” Nick answered. “In fact, J.T. lived with me and Evan.”

Another Evan connection? She was stunned. She took a good look at J.T. Like Nick, he appeared to be in his
TA K E N

117

early thirties. He had short, spiky, sandy-brown hair, dark brown eyes, a slightly crooked nose that looked like it had once been broken, and a five-o’clock shadow across his cheeks. He wore blue jeans, a polo shirt, and a brown leather jacket. And he was returning her gaze with a leisurely arrogance that put her back up. She had no idea what he knew about her relationship with Evan, but judging by his expression, he didn’t think much of her.

She dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “So you’re here because of Evan?”

“Bingo.”

“That’s surprising. When I went to the police, they seemed completely uninterested.”

“Before they knew you were talking about Evan.” J.T.

paused. “Why don’t we sit down? We have a lot to discuss.”

Kayla moved toward the living room without thinking.

She stopped just inside the doorway. The room was in a shambles. The couch cushions were scattered about. Several of her grandmother’s glass figurines had been broken. The drawers in the end table had been opened and tossed on the floor. Her knitting yarn was all over the couch. With J.T.’s arrival, she’d forgotten that someone had been in the house. Now, the seriousness of what had happened was sinking in.

“Who did this?” J.T. asked, moving into the room, his sharp eye absorbing every detail.

“We don’t know. We got here a minute before you,”

Nick said. “I checked the upstairs. There’s no one there, but Kayla’s bedroom looks even worse than this room.”

Kayla walked over to the piano and picked up a family photograph, setting it upright.

118

Barbara Freethy

“Don’t touch anything,” J.T. said quickly. “The cops will want to look for fingerprints.”

She stopped abruptly. “Right. I didn’t think. I don’t even know if anything was taken. I guess I should check all the rooms.”

“In a minute,” J.T. said in an authoritative voice.

“First, I’d like to know a little more about your relationship with Evan other than what I read in the file.”

“I doubt there’s more to know,” she replied. “We knew each other for a few weeks, got married, then Evan disappeared. He took with him my grandfather’s pocket watch that I gave him as a wedding present. That’s it.”

J.T.’s eyes didn’t give away a thing. She had no idea what he thought of her very short story.

“And you haven’t heard from him since he left you in Tahoe?” J.T. asked.

“Not until yesterday, when he called here, and again this afternoon, when he left a present for us at Nick’s house. It was a photo he or someone else took of me and Nick at lunch today.”

J.T. nodded. He glanced over at Nick. “Do you want to add anything?”

“Yes. The pocket watch is connected to a famous criminal from the fifties and a missing cache of gold coins.

My gut tells me that that’s part of Evan’s interest in the watch.”

“Well, that’s a twist.”

“Maybe you can get more information on the old con, a man named Johnny Blandino.”

“I’ll check it out. Anything else?”

“Not yet. Except that I can’t figure out why Kayla and I have been grouped together in this con.”

“Knowing the history between you and Evan, I sus-TA K E N

119

pect at least your part is personal, Nick. We’ll have to figure out the rest.”

Kayla felt renewed confidence at J.T.’s calm, deliberate statement. If the FBI was involved, surely they could find Evan and get the watch back.

“What can you tell us, J.T.?” Nick asked. “You said you’ve been on Evan’s case for a number of years?”

“Yes, he’s gotten very good, better than when he was in college. No one has been able to catch him. We’re always one step behind. Evan has a way of convincing ordinarily smart people to give him their life savings, their jewelry, their homes, and anything else they have. Unfortunately, he’s also gotten more dangerous. Last year he took over the identity of a man who had been killed in mysterious circumstances three weeks earlier. Evan managed to fool the man’s family. They hadn’t seen their son in fifteen years, and somehow Evan convinced a mother and father that he was their long-lost son. It’s possible that Evan killed the man and then took over his identity, although we don’t have proof of that.”

“How could he do that?” Kayla asked in amazement.

“How could Evan convince parents that he was their son?”

“Like I said — he’s good,” J.T. replied, holding her gaze. “He told them what they wanted to hear, and they saw what they wanted to see.”

Which was exactly what she had done, she realized. “I still can’t believe he would kill anyone. But that’s what you’re implying, isn’t it?” Could she have married a killer? Her heart stopped at the thought.

“It’s definitely a possibility,” J.T. replied. “I’d like to go over everything that happened since the day you met Evan,” he said, then turned to Nick. “Then we’ll discuss
120

Barbara Freethy

your situation. First we need to report this break-in to the local guys, not that I expect them to find anything. Evan is too smart to leave fingerprints.”

“So you think Evan did it?” Kayla asked doubtfully.

“He was here many times when we were dating. He had plenty of opportunity to steal whatever he wanted.”

“She’s right,” Nick put in. “It’s not logical. Or smart.

And we know Evan is both.”

“Then we’ll have to figure out who else is in the game,” J.T. replied.

Kayla’s stomach rolled over at the thought of someone else being involved. The situation got worse by the minute. Feeling the need to take some action, she said,

“I’ll call the police. I’m going to use the phone in the kitchen, if that’s all right.”

“Just don’t touch anything else.”

After reporting the break-in, she was told an officer would arrive shortly. She hung up the phone and walked around the kitchen. All the drawers were either half-open or all the way open, as if someone had quickly gone through the room. The back door was ajar. Had she left it unlocked? She started toward the door as Nick called her name.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“The police are on their way,” she said. “I need to check my studio, in the garage.”

“I’ll go with you. J.T. is making some calls.”

As they walked down the dark path to her studio, Kayla stayed close to Nick, grateful to have him with her.

She’d been down this path at night a thousand times, but tonight the shadows seemed far more menacing. When they got to the door she realized that the glass panel over
TA K E N

121

the knob had been broken, the pieces scattered on the ground.

“Careful,” Nick said. He pushed the door open. They paused on the threshold.

Kayla strained to see in the darkness. Nothing moved.

Finally she reached out and turned on the light. The studio looked almost exactly as she’d left it. She felt tremendous relief that the burglar hadn’t done anything more than open drawers and cabinets. “What on earth was he looking for?” she muttered.

Nick shook his head. “Obviously something small enough to fit in a drawer.”

“That could be anything.”

Nick walked over to her worktable and stared down at the glass. “What is this?”

“A window I’m restoring for a church.”

“There’s a lot of little pieces,” he commented. “It must take hours.”

“Painstaking hours and days, sometimes weeks,” she replied.

“You have a lot of patience then.”

“You sound surprised.”

He shrugged. “You did get married after less than a month.”

She made a face at him, not happy about the reminder.

“I know. It was crazy, and you may not believe this, but not at all like me. I think I was temporarily insane.”

“And when you kissed me earlier, was that temporary insanity, too?”

She was startled by the change of subject. “No. I mean, yes. Hey, you kissed me back. What was your excuse?”

122

Barbara Freethy

He took a step closer, his breath fanning her cheek. “I liked kissing you.”

She swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to kiss her again. His gaze was fixed on her mouth, and he was close, so very close. Her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t want him to kiss her, did she? She put a hand up, not sure what she intended to do. Certainly not touch him, but somehow her palm came to rest on his chest. He covered her hand with his, taking another step forward, trapping her between the worktable and him.

The door opened and J.T. walked in.

Kayla pushed Nick away, sure she looked guilty of something. Her face was hot, and her heart was pounding. J.T. gave her a curious glance but simply said the police had arrived and were waiting in the house.

Kayla headed for the door. She needed to put some space between her and Nick, take a breath, think. Too much was happening too fast, and she did not want to make any more mistakes.

An hour later Nick opened the refrigerator door in Kayla’s kitchen, disappointed to find nothing but diet soda and juice. He could have used a beer, but at this point he’d settle for anything cold. He took out two cans and set one down on the counter in front of J.T., who was finishing up a call on his cell phone. The police had left a few minutes earlier, and Kayla had gone upstairs to clean her bedroom.

Nick popped the top on his soda and took a long sip, then pulled up a stool at the counter next to J.T. “That your boss?” he asked as J.T. ended his call.

“An associate,” he said. “I’m finishing up a case. I
TA K E N

123

have to be in court in LA on Monday.” He picked up the can and frowned. “Diet Coke, huh?”

“It’s all she has.”

“I’ll take it.”

J.T.’s right eye was black-and-blue now, his cheek swollen. Nick felt a momentary twinge of guilt that he’d hit him so hard. He got up and walked over to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack. He tossed it on the counter in front of J.T. “You’d better put that on your face.”

J.T. scowled at him and let the ice sit. “It’s fine. You hit like a girl, Granville.”

“Maybe you should look in the mirror before you criticize my technique.” Nick glanced down at his knuckles, which were still stinging. “I can’t remember the last time I hit anyone.”

“Well, next time, you might want to take a look at who you’re hitting.”

“All I saw was Kayla struggling against you. I thought you were Evan or whoever broke into her house.”

“Which raises another interesting question.” J.T. sent Nick a speculative look. “Why are you so friendly with the woman who helped Evan rob you?”