Читать книгу In This Together - Kara Lennox - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

“WAIT. CAN’T WE talk about—”

Travis slipped out the door and slammed it in her face. He couldn’t listen to her. He couldn’t look into those chocolate-brown eyes without feeling his resolve softening. It was time to contact Daniel Logan.

The bedroom was empty except for one straight-back chair in a corner. Travis remembered dragging it in there to stand on so he could open an air-conditioning vent. One of the chair’s slats was broken, which was why he hadn’t tried to sell it.

He could fix it; he hated throwing away perfectly good stuff that could be repaired and provide many more years of service.

The broken slat wouldn’t affect the use he put it to. He grabbed it and shoved it under the bathroom doorknob.

“Don’t leave me in here!” Elena screamed at him through the door. “Please, please, I can’t stand it.”

He turned resolutely and walked out the door.

He’d turned his cell phone off the minute he’d nabbed Elena so he couldn’t be located by the phone’s ping. He wasn’t sure how fast Daniel Logan could mobilize whatever people and resources he had, but probably pretty damn fast. The guy was powerful. Still, it was possible Elena hadn’t even been missed yet. If she had a lot of autonomy on the job, her absence might not be unusual.

Travis got in his truck and drove. He’d been driving for twenty minutes before he realized he should have gotten Daniel’s private number from Elena. The only number Travis had was for Project Justice. Well, that would have to do.

Once he was miles away from the repo’d house, in some nameless, nondescript neighborhood, he pulled over, got out his cell, turned it on, took a deep breath and dialed.

“Project Justice, how may I direct your call today?” The woman who answered had a tone of voice that didn’t match the polite words. She sounded like an older lady—probably that dragon who’d manned the front desk the time he’d dropped in at their offices, hoping to convince someone to listen to him.

Celeste, that was her name. “Good afternoon, Celeste. My name is Travis Riggs.” There was no point in trying to hide his identity. “Please listen carefully, as I’ll only say this once. I’ve kidnapped Daniel Logan’s assistant, Elena.”

“You did what?” Celeste shrieked.

God, the woman could shatter eardrums. “Please, don’t talk. Just listen. She’s safe and unhurt—for now. My demands are simple. Project Justice must take on the case of Eric Riggs, my brother, who was unjustly convicted of his wife’s murder. Have Daniel Logan personally call this number and leave a message, indicating that he agrees. Have him provide me with this detail—What piece of the victim’s jewelry went missing?—to convince me he really did investigate the case. When he does that, I will return Elena unharmed and turn myself in to the authorities. Do you understand?”

“Now, you listen here, young man. Daniel Logan doesn’t negotiate with—”

“Do you understand?”

There was a long pause before Celeste answered. “Perfectly.”

“I’ll check my messages in twenty-four hours.” He disconnected and turned off his phone. Despite the cool fall weather, he was sweating. He opened the window and cursed. Making that call had sickened him. But he had to keep thinking about Eric, sitting in that six-by-eight jail cell. And little MacKenzie, who was so traumatized by her mother’s death that she had withdrawn from the world. Now her father was gone, too.

Travis could have accepted temporary custody of MacKenzie. His brother had tried to get him to do just that; MacKenzie seemed fond of her uncle Trav, and there weren’t any other relatives except Tammy’s aged grandmother, who was in a home. But at the time decisions were being made, Travis had thought MacKenzie would be better off with foster parents who could spend time with her and help her adjust. A single construction worker who worked seven days a week—and who intended to spend any spare time he had helping Eric prove his innocence—wasn’t a fit guardian for a three-year-old.

Even if Travis had been willing to take MacKenzie, Social Services probably would have nixed the idea. Ex-cons were hardly considered prime parent material.

Now he wished he’d at least tried to take responsibility for his niece. Her foster parents were moneygrubbing lowlifes who only wanted to adopt MacKenzie so they could get hold of her future assets. Eric had been financially comfortable when Tammy was murdered, but Tammy came from serious money. When that aged grandmother died, her wealth would pass directly to MacKenzie. Without a trust fund in place, her “parents” would get control of the money.

Travis’s own brief experience as a foster kid had been positive, and he’d based his decision on that. He hadn’t counted on the foster parents from hell.

Travis got his truck moving again. He needed to get back to Elena. It just now occurred to him that if something happened to Travis—say, a fatal car accident—no one would know where to find his hostage. It could be months before anyone went through that house. She could starve to death.

He didn’t take another full breath until he pulled onto Marigold Circle and everything looked quiet and peaceful. No cop cars or news crews lurked in the cul-de-sac. Even as he pulled around to the back of the house, he half expected cops to spring out of hiding, guns drawn, as he exited his vehicle. But nothing happened.

He let himself in the back door. Hi, honey, I’m home.

* * *

ELENA TOOK STOCK of her situation once again, as it had evolved. It could be a lot worse, she conceded. She had no serious injuries; she hadn’t been molested. And as far as prison cells went, this one wasn’t bad. The sink provided running water, the toilet worked and she could even take a whirlpool bath if she wanted to.

But there was no way out. The door wouldn’t budge; she’d thrown all of her weight against it several times and nothing had happened. She couldn’t reach the skylights, and even if she could, she doubted they would break easily. She’d found a can of hairspray and had attempted to throw it with enough force to break the glass, but those windows were designed to withstand hail. Even if she broke one, what then? She couldn’t magically fly up to it and escape.

She wondered what Daniel would do when he found out she’d been abducted. He was loyal to his own people; she couldn’t believe he would allow her to be killed just to make a point that he didn’t negotiate with criminals. And Travis wasn’t asking for the world; he only wanted someone to take on his brother’s case. But currently Daniel was dealing with something more urgent than his personal assistant’s life. What if the new Logan power plant was in imminent danger of a meltdown? That was the sort of global disaster that would definitely take precedence over one person’s welfare.

If Daniel didn’t respond to Travis, would Travis understand why?

She heard a door open and close and immediately got to her feet and went to the door. “Help! Help me, please! I’m trapped in the bathroom!” It was probably Travis, returning from wherever he’d gone. But just in case it wasn’t...“Help!” she shouted again, slamming her palms against the door. Her right hand still hurt where she’d hit Travis’s shoulder.

“I’m back.” It was Travis’s voice. She slumped with disappointment even as her heart lifted slightly. It was really odd, but despite everything, she still felt sympathetic to Travis’s cause—more than when she’d first listened to his story. Was this what they called Stockholm Syndrome, when a hostage started to feel affection for her captor? Surely it wouldn’t happen this quickly.

“Hey,” she yelled. “Are you going to feed me? Because I skipped lunch. While I was supposed to be eating lunch, I was trying to get you some time with Daniel.”

“And I appreciate that. Really, I do,” he said. “I’ll get you something to eat. Sorry, I hadn’t even thought about food. I guess when your stomach is tied up in knots you don’t notice if you’re hungry or not.”

“Well, I do. And I’m hungry.”

“I’ll see what the people who lived here left behind in the way of food.”

Great. It sounded like she was in for a tasty meal of stale saltines, and maybe a can of cold soup if she was lucky. Travis didn’t seem the type who could whip up a four-star meal out of nothing.

She waited a long time. She stood, she sat, she recited poetry to herself, verses memorized years ago in school. “Listen, my children, and you shall hear...” When she ran out of poems, she paced the bathroom, counting the steps from one end to the other and back, and then multiplying by each circuit she made. How long did it take to check the pantry? Maybe he’d gone out for fast food.

She was almost to five thousand steps when an incredible smell reached her nostrils. What was that? Oregano? Garlic?

Travis tapped on her door. “I brought some food.”

“Are you waiting for me to give you permission to enter?” she asked incredulously. “I’m a prisoner, not a princess.”

“Just because I’m a kidnapper doesn’t mean I don’t have any manners.” He opened the door and entered the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him, but at that moment she probably wouldn’t have run even if she could have. She wanted to know what was on the tray, covered by the dishcloth. It smelled amazing.

He looked around, trying to figure out where to set it down.

“On the vanity,” she suggested. Earlier, she’d found a sponge and some bathroom cleaner under the sink and had given the place a thorough scrub. If she was going to be held prisoner, at least her cell would be clean. “What is that?”

“Lasagna.”

“Like, a store-brand frozen-dinner kind, or the homemade kind that someone froze the leftovers?”

“Does it matter? I already had a taste of it. It’s not half-bad.” He set the tray down on the pink marble vanity and whisked the cloth off. He’d served her a good-size square of the lasagna on a china plate with a knife, fork, spoon and cloth napkin. There was also a serving of broccoli. A cold soft drink and a glass full of ice completed the picture.

“You forgot the vase with a rosebud.”

“Huh?”

She turned her head so he couldn’t see her smile. “Never mind. This looks delicious.” Then she added a grudging, “Thanks.”

“Holding you hostage is bad enough. I don’t intend to mistreat you while you’re in my custody.” He gestured toward the tray. “Go ahead. Sorry there’s not a chair.”

She didn’t care. She ate standing up.

“Whoever lived here sure could cook,” she said after a few hasty bites had dampened the worst of her hunger. She slowed down so she could appreciate the subtle spices and tangy tomato sauce. “Is there more of this?”

“This isn’t enough?”

“For later, I mean.”

“Oh. Yeah, there’s a whole pan.”

“Tell Daniel he can take his time meeting your demands.”

When he looked at her like she’d gone raving mad, she shrugged. “I’m kidding, of course.” She toyed with a broccoli floret. It wasn’t as good as the fresh stuff Cora always served at Daniel’s table, but with a little bit of lemon butter on it, it wasn’t terrible. “So what’s going on? Did you talk to Daniel?”

“I didn’t have his number. I called Project Justice. Figured they’d get him a message.”

She took that news with some alarm. “Depends. Who’d you talk to?”

“Celeste. The dragon lady?”

“Oh, I know who Celeste is,” she said grimly.

“You don’t think she’ll get word to Daniel?”

“She might. Or she might try to launch some kind of pseudo-SWAT-team rescue on her own. You never know about Celeste. I took a road trip with her once to Louisiana. Made the mistake of letting her drive.”

Travis laughed. “That bad?”

“She wanted to stop at a bayou crossing and look for an alligator because she needed a new pair of boots. And she wasn’t kidding.”

“She doesn’t strike me as a fool. She’ll do what needs to be done.”

“I wish I shared your certainty. When will you know?”

“I gave Daniel twenty-four hours to leave an answer on my voice mail. All he has to do is convince me he’s looked into the case.”

“That’s it? He just has to say, ‘Travis, you’re right. There’s been a miscarriage of justice. I’m going to make everything right for your brother’?”

“That’s a start. I also demanded proof he really has looked into the case. He’ll have to provide a detail that’s never been released to the public.”

“Not to blow holes in your plan, Travis, but Daniel can learn every detail about that case, inside and out, in about ten minutes. He has teams of researchers who can get the information in front of him so that he can provide the details you want.”

“That’s good. That’s all I’m asking for. That, and his word that he’ll take on Eric’s case, that he’ll assign investigators and give it his best shot. I understand Daniel is a man of his word.”

“Well, he is that.”

“I believe once he looks into it, he’ll see what I’m talking about. He’ll see Eric really was railroaded by an overzealous D.A. and a gutless defense attorney.”

“You do realize Daniel is married to the Houston D.A., right?”

“I know. The trial took place well before she took office.”

They fell silent for a few minutes. Elena finished up her soft drink. The cola was cold and sweet. She didn’t normally drink soft drinks because of the sugar; she’d forgotten how good they were.

“Doesn’t it bother you that even if you free your brother, you’ll take his place in prison?”

“Eric’s life is worth saving.”

“And yours isn’t?”

“Believe me, I don’t want to toss my life away. But Eric is my little brother. I promised our mother I would take care of him.”

The emotion in his voice was impossible to miss. He loved his brother. How could Elena continue to think of Travis as a villain when he was so devoted to his family?

She quickly changed the subject. “Why are you hanging here, watching me eat?” she asked when she was done. She blotted her mouth with the napkin.

“Actually, I’m keeping an eye on you. That plate is pretty heavy, and I haven’t forgotten the damage you did with a wrench.”

“Not to mention the knife and the fork,” she pointed out. “The knife is rather dull, but a fork in your jugular would hurt a lot more than the wrench did.”

He actually turned pale as his hand went protectively to his throat. Clearly this man hadn’t ever taken anyone hostage before. He didn’t know the first thing about it.

If she actually believed her life was in danger, she would use any means available—knife, fork, fingernails, teeth. But she didn’t. And she wouldn’t.

“Before Daniel makes a single concession, he’s going to want to know I’m alive. How are you going to prove that to him?”

“I’ve thought of that. I’m going to have you record a message for him. I’ll send it to him as a text attachment.”

“You can do that?”

“What, you think I’m too stupid to master some pretty basic cell phone functions?”

“Stupid? No.” That wasn’t the word she had in mind. A little crazy, maybe. “It’s just that...you said you had trouble with the Project Justice online form. I assumed that meant you weren’t very...you know, tech savvy.”

“I’m not when it comes to computers and...typing.” He shuddered as he said the word. “But voice recordings—that, I figured out.”

That seemed a little strange to Elena. The first thing most people figured out with a new phone is how to send a text or take a picture. “You can read and write, though...right?”

“Not my strong suit.”

She thought back to his difficulty with the form. “Do you have a learning disability?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Dysphasia, dyslexia, dysgraphia, attention deficit disorder... Take your pick. Counselors have labeled me with all kinds of big words over the years. Including ‘just plain pigheaded.’ So who the hell knows?”

No wonder the computer application had defeated him. But why was she concerning herself with that? Travis had a cell phone! It was probably in his pocket right now. Yes, she could see the rectangular outline on his thigh. His taut, muscular thigh. Dios, the man had a good body.

Elena had spent most of her youth around men who engaged in intense physical labor, day in and day out, either cutting sugarcane or working in the oil fields. All of her male relatives and family friends were strong and muscular. But Travis gave new meaning to the term “hard body.”

How humiliating to have to admit that she found her kidnapper handsome. And sexy. And how strange that, in the span of a couple of hours, she’d gone from terrified to... Well, she wasn’t afraid of him. He might be a desperate man, but deep down he was gentle, and he wasn’t going to hurt her.

“Tell me about your brother,” she said. “We’ve got some time to kill. Since I am a pawn in your little power play, I’d like to know why you are so positive that your brother is innocent.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Because he’s my brother. I practically raised him. As kids, we were together constantly. When the state wanted to split us up into different foster homes, we kicked up such a fuss that they found someone who would take both of us.”

Foster care. It sounded like he didn’t have an ideal childhood, then.

“Don’t go looking at me like I’m some sort of charity case. It wasn’t like that. Our mom was a good mom. But she went through a rough patch when she didn’t have a job. We were in foster care for only about six months.”

“So you were very close to your brother when you were children. But people change, you know.”

“I’m still close to him. I spent a lot of time with him and Tammy. Eric loved her and MacKenzie more than anything in the world. He would have died for either of them without a second thought. There is no way he killed her, under any circumstances. No way.”

Elena’s heart ached for him. Whatever faults he had, Travis did love his brother. That was apparent.

“I believe you,” she said softly. “But Project Justice requires more than belief, because it takes more than that to get a case overturned.” Although Elena didn’t work directly for Project Justice, she’d learned a thing or two about how the foundation operated just from being Daniel’s assistant. “There has to be some kind of evidence that’s been overlooked or ignored—like a witness that was never interviewed or physical clues that weren’t properly analyzed—that sort of thing.

“Do you have anything like that in your brother’s case?”

“Not exactly. But I think there’s evidence that could be developed. There is one element of the case that was never brought to light.”

“And what is that?”

“Tammy was having an affair.”

“And this wasn’t brought up during the trial?”

“It was never investigated at all.”

“You think the man she cheated with might have killed her?”

“It’s an obvious theory that should be ruled out, don’t you think? Because the evidence they had on Eric was all circumstantial. There was no sign of forced entry into the house, Eric didn’t have an alibi, and they’d had an argument earlier in the day. In the absence of any other suspect, Eric looked guilty.”

As he went over some of the facts of the case, Elena started to remember more about it. Although she’d never been much interested in news coverage about violent crime before she’d started working for Daniel, since she’d been in his employ she’d started watching true-crime shows. Tammy Riggs’s murder was the kind of sensational event that attracted attention—well-to-do lawyer stabs his beautiful blond wife to death in the kitchen while their toddler is in the house.

“The daughter—MacKenzie, is that her name?”

Travis smiled fondly. “Yeah.”

“She was home when her mother was killed?”

He nodded. “She was only three. Eric came home and found MacKenzie there with Tammy...her mother’s blood all over her clothes. But she was never able to tell what happened. Now that she’s six years old, she says she doesn’t remember, that she didn’t see what happened. She might have been in another room, asleep.” Travis shrugged.

Elena nodded. “Project Justice has a psychologist on staff. She’s a nationally recognized expert on hypnotic regression and recovering lost memories.”

“You see? I know Project Justice can help. If only they’ll take on the case.”

Elena was very afraid that, no matter what Travis did, the foundation wouldn’t take on the case. There were many deserving cases, and Project Justice had only so many investigators, so many resources. That’s why the application process was important, so that the most urgent cases, the most obvious miscarriages of justice, were given priority.

Daniel would never cave in to Travis’s tactics, because it would send out the wrong message. Other desperate people might resort to violence if the tactic worked for Travis.

The best Travis could hope for was that this stunt would attract media attention.

“If Tammy was having an affair,” Elena said, “why didn’t the police look into it?”

“Because they didn’t know about it. Eric absolutely refused to believe it was true, and he refused to even bring up the possibility. His lawyer told me to keep my theories to myself because even the suggestion of cheating would give Travis a strong motive for murder.”

“And you knew about it...how?”

“I saw the signs. I know what it looks like when a woman is cheating.” He said this with no small amount of bitterness, indicating to Elena that some woman had cheated on Travis in his past. “But Eric was blind to it. Tammy was a saint. She could do no wrong—especially after she was dead—and that was that.”

“So I take it Eric is not in favor of looking for the man his wife was cheating with.”

“He wasn’t. Not for a long time. But now that he’s had time to think about it, and MacKenzie is about to get new parents—he says he won’t oppose me. He still doesn’t believe his wife was unfaithful, though.”

Elena had to admit, it was an intriguing case. Under other circumstances, Daniel—who had final say on which cases the foundation took on—would have at least done some preliminary digging around.

“The fact that MacKenzie’s about to be adopted is bad enough,” he said. “But the foster parents who are adopting her—they don’t take care of her properly. They just ignore her. And I think they take away the clothes and toys I give her.... Hell, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Elena knew: because she was willing to listen. She got the feeling no one had actually listened to his story before...at least nobody with an open mind.

He picked up the tray, apparently intending to take all those potential weapons out of Elena’s reach. As he did, her empty soda can rolled off the tray and onto the floor.

“I’ll get it.” She leaned down at the same time he did. She bumped her head on his shoulder, and everything on the tray spilled to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was clumsy of me. Here, let me help.”

What followed was an awkward dance as they both tried to pick up the fallen dishes, bumping into each other several times in the process.

“For God’s sake, I’ll get it, okay?” he groused. “Keep your hands off the fork.”

She backed off and sat down on the closed toilet. Once he’d collected everything and put it back on the tray, he left her alone. She heard him wedge something under the doorknob, trapping her again.

She took a deep breath and reached under her thigh to the object she’d hidden there. All of that clumsy bumping together hadn’t been entirely accidental on her part. As a six-year-old on the streets of Havana, she’d been a damn fine pickpocket.

She now had Travis’s phone.

How soon before he missed it? How much time did she have? And what would she do with it, now that she had the chance to call for help?