“What kind of trouble?”
“I’m . . . I’m not sure. She met someone on the internet and texted me that she was going to meet him in person and . . .”
His compassion morphed into deep concern. “That’s not good.”
“Tell me about it. I called my dad and he’s sending someone to pick me up.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course.”
“Store my number in it. Call me and let me know about Patty.”
Her heart melted. He was so awesome. All of a sudden 2COOL/ Danny didn’t seem so wonderful anymore. Jenna realized that while she’d been attracted to Bradley’s good looks, she’d also seen something else in him. Something she wanted in her own life. “Will you pray for us?”
“I’ve already started.”
Whoa.
“And God isn’t so hard to find, Jenna.”
She felt her throat work and gave a slight nod. “I’m coming to see that. Thanks.”
Another slow smile creased his cheeks revealing a dimple that winked at her. Her heart did that funny tripping thing again.
Bradley said, “Anytime you want to talk about him, let me know.”
“I’ll . . . do that.” She hesitated, then asked, “Will you call to check on me? Make sure I’m all right in about an hour?”
“You bet.”
“And if you don’t get me, will you call my dad?”
He frowned. “Do you think something’s going to happen to you?”
She forced a smile. “No, not really. It’s just been a little crazy lately. And those missing girls are on my mind, and my dad has drilled safety and proactive measures in my head so much that I . . . ,” she shrugged. “Oh never mind. I’m being silly.”
“Give me your dad’s number.”
Jenna relaxed a tad and complied.
A dark, low-slung car pulled in next to them, and a voice called out, “Jenna Wolfe?”
“That’s me.” She turned back to Bradley. “Thank you.”
“God loves you, Jenna. Don’t forget that.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut when she realized she didn’t know what to say. She gave a short nod and crawled into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her. “Thank you so much for picking me up. I’m really worried about my friend.”
Tom gave her a smile. “Not a problem. When Samantha called, I was glad to help out.”
Jenna raised a hand to wave goodbye to Bradley, who still stood in the same spot, his eyes still on her. He waved back, then turned to join the group. Wow. Excitement tingled inside her at the thought of something more happening with Bradley sometime in the near future.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
She finally turned her attention back to her chauffeur. “Don’t you work with the FBI or something like that?”
Tom gave a nod. “Something like that.”
Jenna twisted her hands as anxiety rose up in her again. “I know you’re Samantha’s friend, but are you working the case with the missing girls?”
“To a certain extent, yes.”
“Oh.” He didn’t seem interested in talking that much. In fact, he made her a tad uneasy. She brushed aside that feeling. Her dad would only send the best. For a while, she simply watched the scenery as it flew past her window.
“So, where are we meeting my dad?”
“Don’t worry. It’s all arranged.”
Jenna frowned. “Okay, good. So, where?”
Tom looked at her and frowned. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“One of my more endearing traits.” This guy was really starting to get on her nerves.
“Hmm. So, Patty’s in trouble, is she?”
“Yeah.”
Anxiety for her friend welled to new heights. She wanted to check her phone. But when he turned left off the road that would lead them back to town, she paused. “Hey, wait a minute. This isn’t the right way. Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Taking you someplace safe. Just like your dad wanted.” He grinned at her. “It’s as simple as that.”
Connor headed back to his parents’ house. Rick should have answered his cell. Tom had Jenna, she was fine, but worry niggled at him. Where was her bodyguard? Rick should have been following Jenna all the way up to the campsite. He dialed his mom’s number and it went to voice mail. The tiny worry turned to outright anxiety.
Finally, he came to his street, and he saw the tan Buick that Rick drove sitting in full view of the house. He flicked a glance at Sam. “This could be bad.”
She had her hand on her gun. A shadow in the driver’s seat was all he could make out. Connor slowed to a stop and opened his door. Samantha followed his lead.
Caution marking his steps, he made his way to the passenger side of the car . . . and stopped. Blood splattered against the window in front of him. “He’s hurt!”
Samantha holstered her gun and hurried to the driver’s side. “Window’s down.”
The man’s head rested against the steering wheel. Connor bolted around the front of the car to stand next to Samantha. He reached in to feel for a pulse. “He’s still alive. Call for an ambulance. I’m going to check on my parents.”
He left Rick in Samantha’s care and hurried up the walkway to the front door.
Locked.
Shoving his hand into his right pocket, he pulled out a wad of keys. Found the right one. Inserted it and stepped inside.
Everything was quiet. Nothing out of place from his current vantage point. Keeping a hand on his gun, he turned right into the kitchen. Followed through to the den. The rest of the house was empty. Clean. Everything as it should be.
So where were his parents?
He dialed both cell phones, but didn’t get an answer. Shocking. He rolled his eyes. Why they even bothered to have the devices was beyond him.
He took the stairs two at a time, examined the room he used when he stayed here, then stepped across the hall to Jenna’s room. Everything looked normal. Her usual mess looked undisturbed. A pile of mail sat on her end table. Opened mail.
He stopped to think a minute. Jenna was safe. He had no reason to look at her mail.
And yet . . .
Memories of the poor unsuspecting parents flittered through his mind. He flipped through the envelopes. Mostly junk mail. Fashion catalogs.
A plain white envelope with a post office box as a return address. Connor’s breath caught and he barely managed to restrain himself from snatching it up. Instead, he went into the bathroom and grabbed two plastic baggies from under the sink and a pair of tweezers. Returning to Jenna’s room, he used one plastic bag as a makeshift glove on one hand. With the tweezers, he opened the envelope.
Looked inside.
Crisp one-hundred-dollar bills mocked his thinking that Jenna was safe. Dread crawled into his midsection and put down roots.
The killer had crossed his daughter’s path, left his mark on her life. Still holding the envelope with the tweezers, he grabbed up the clean bag and slipped the evidence inside. His hand shook slightly and he knew he had to get a grip on his emotions.
He sealed the bag.
Connor went to the computer and wiggled the mouse.
Password protected.
It stunned him that he didn’t have a clue what Jenna would use as a password. Heart pounding, he thought for a minute, slowly processing what his brain wanted to deny.
On a whim, he typed “Julia.”
Password accepted.
He went straight to her email account, not really expecting to find anything. His expectations were met.
Frustrated, he stopped. He had no idea what he was doing. Samantha would do a much better job. On the surface there weren’t any suspicious emails, but Connor didn’t know anything about accessing the router and seeing where Jenna had been online.
But he did know one thing.
It seemed a killer was after his daughter.
And Connor might not have much time left to make sure she remained safe.
Evidence in hand, he bolted back downstairs and looked at the calendar by the phone. The Carsons were penciled in the small block. Relief nearly blistered him. His parents were out to eat with their close friends, the Carsons. They were fine. Jenna was with Tom. She was okay . . . for now. His family was secure.
Now he needed to get back out and see how Rick was doing. He’d heard the ambulance pull up with more vehicles arriving a few short minutes later. The crime scene crew.
Samantha greeted him with a concerned look. “Everything okay?”
He knew she meant his family. “They’re not home. Out having dinner with friends. Jenna’s with Tom, so everything is cool on that front.” He’d tell her about the envelope in a minute.
“Rick was shot in the head.” Her anger simmered not too far below the surface.
“How’s he still alive?”
“Our killer approached from the front and shot through the windshield. Probably didn’t want to go up to the window and give Rick a chance to realize something was wrong. The bullet just grazed him and buried itself in the back of the car. Knocked him out and he’s going to have a massive headache, but at least he’ll be okay.” She pointed. “He had the window down, his gun is still holstered.”
“He knew the person who approached him?”
“Or at least wasn’t alarmed at their presence. Probably thought the guy was coming up to the window and got the shock of his life when his windshield exploded.”
The ambulance whirled off with a still unconscious Rick. Samantha and Connor left the crime scene guys to their work and climbed back in Connor’s sedan. His phone rang.
“Hey, Dakota, please tell me you’ve got something for me?”
“Yeah, I checked Jefferson Abbott’s cell and home phone records. Nothing on his cell, but a call was made to the Steadwells from his home about two minutes after everyone headed for Jefferson’s office with the search warrant.”
“The only other person at the house was Victoria Abbott.”
“Has to be her.”
“Can we get another warrant to search the house again?”
“I can try, but it might not be pretty. Besides, we didn’t see any signs of criminal activity when we were there earlier.”
“I want the blueprints of the place. Do they have a basement?”
“Not that we can tell, but if you’ll give me a minute, I’ll look it up.” Clicks from the keyboard came over the line. Then Dakota said, “No, no basement.”
“Great. I’m going to head back out there and see what I can find. Talk to Mrs. Abbott about why she called the Steadwells.”
“I can meet you there if you think you need backup.”
“Come on. I can use all the help I can get.”
“See you in ten.”
Connor hung up and looked at Samantha. She’d followed his end of the conversation. He filled her in on the rest.
She nodded. “I also want to know about Calvin. Have we got any word back about what really happened at his house?”
“Nope, it was ruled an accident. Someone left the gas stove on when they left for the birthday party. Calvin and his son left early while his wife and daughter stayed to say goodbye and clean up. They got home, flipped the light switch on . . . ,” he shrugged and looked away. “Just a stupid accident.”
“Do you really believe that?”
He looked at her. “No.”
Jenna swallowed hard. They’d been driving about fifteen minutes and the hair on her arms quivered. Something wasn’t right about this guy. Fed or no fed. She didn’t like him. Something felt wrong.
“So, Jenna,” he said, “did you like the cards I sent you?”
“Cards?”
“On the computer.” A bit impatient, he glanced at her.
It clicked. “Danny? You’re not Tom,
you’re
Danny!”
He grinned to reveal even, white teeth. “Very good, Jenna.”
She blinked, his handsome features unnerving her. She looked past them and into the depths of his eyes. Emptiness stared back at her.
Fear hit her. “What have you done with Patty?”
“Patty’s fine. For now.”
She closed her eyes, desperate to control her panic.
Think,
Jenna, think.
All of her dad’s warnings, lectures, pleas for her to be careful started clamoring in her head. Her breathing quickened, her heart pounded. She forced herself to ignore the smothering sensation pressing on her chest and sorted through the mess in her head to focus in on what he’d told her about the case. What did she know? What could she use as an advantage that the other girls didn’t have?
Her cell phone.
Her dad had mentioned they’d never been able to track the girls through their cell phones because they’d been dismantled.
“What do you want with me?”
“You backed out on me tonight.”
Keep him talking.
A curving part of the highway was coming up. She shifted the backpack between her feet and the key chains rattled.
“Be still.”
“I am. I’ve gotta use the bathroom.”
He laughed. “I bet you do.”
In spite of the air-conditioning, she felt the sweat drip down to pool at the small of her back. She shifted once more, facing him more fully, taking in his handsome profile and feeling revulsion sweep through her.
“Why do you do it?” Her right hand crept toward the side pocket on her pack.
He glanced her way, then back at the road that required more concentration than just a straight highway. “Do what?”
“Kill.” You creep, she wanted to add, but refrained.
He pulled in a deep breath just as his phone rang. He swore and took one hand from the wheel to pat at his pocket. He located his phone and barked, “What?”
Jenna watched him frown, heard him swear again. She inched her hand closer, waited until he spoke again, and pulled the side pocket open, praying his voice would cover the scratchy sound of Velcro opening.
He glanced at her, and she raised a hand to rub her head as though trying to erase a headache.
He glanced back at the road, saying, “I’ll be there shortly. Don’t worry. I have our insurance policy.” He looked at her one more time.
She stared back in stony silence, wondering if he could see the fear raging through her.
In one smooth movement, she slipped the phone out of the pocket and dropped it to the floorboard, all without moving her body or taking her eyes from the killer beside her.
He hung up with another curse and muttered something under his breath.
“Problems?” she asked with a sideways, sardonic glance.