Broken Build (23 page)

He pointed to a laptop sitting on his desk. “Got you a new one.”

Jen sat in the chair offered. Praveena brought Jen a soda, and Lester and Satish hovered in the corner of the office.

Dave scrolled through the test results, his face brightening. “This build is good to go. Jen’s going to label and package it now.”

Cheers rang out across the office.

“Good work.” Dave pumped his fist. “Everyone gets to go home for Thanksgiving.”

The engineers’ faces fell, and they slouched and shuffled, looking disappointed.

Dave glanced at Lisa. “Isn’t this good news?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? The darlings haven’t had time to buy turkeys or make trips back home. They were looking forward to having a catered meal here.”

“In that case,” Dave said, “we’ll have Thanksgiving dinner here, as planned.”

Jen turned to her laptop to label the build. The auto-update problem bothered her. What if it were triggered accidentally? She brought up the source file and commented it out, just to be on the safe side. A few keystrokes later, she fired the script to label the good source and generate the Black Friday build.

Lester looked over her shoulder. She smiled at his red eyes and haggard look. “You can go. Thanks for covering for me.”

She computed the checksums and electronically fingerprinted the files. One last thing. She hit send.

“Hey, you finished?” Dave looked over from his email.

“Almost.” She stared at the progress bar. Almost home, baby!

Dave waved to the engineers. “Time to go home. Thank you for your hard work. Come back tomorrow for turkey.”

They filed out, grinning and fist-bumping each other. Cars pulled out of the parking lot. The slanted rays of the evening sun descended. Dave closed the blinds and pulled his chair closer to her.

“You did it.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek as she finished changing the password to the encrypted vault. Everything was ready.

His gaze locked onto her and her pulse quickened. Jen swallowed, unsure of his intentions. Heat emanated from his body, and his alluring scent drew her closer.

Dave touched her face lightly, then twirled her hair around his fingers. “Let me know if I’m harassing you.”

“You’re not.” Jen could barely breathe. His lips hovered just above hers.

“Because I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.” He caressed her jaw.

“But you were so angry earlier.”

He backed away. The corners of his lips turned down. “I’m upset over the situation. Not at you.”

Jen wiped her palms over her jeans. Should she tell him her suspicions? Or would it only incriminate her further? The police had checked her tip and dismissed it. She should leave it alone.

Dave’s desk phone rang and he picked it up. “What do you mean you want pre-IPO stock? You have to prove the girl in the photo is my daughter.”

His face contorted with a growing agitation. “I don’t believe you. Give me DNA first and then we’ll talk.”

The line must have gone dead because he slammed the receiver in the cradle.

“Another message from the kidnappers?” She limped toward him.

An explosion shattered the windows and knocked Jen off balance. Dave pushed her to the ground. Her head hit a piece of furniture, and her ears buzzed. The acrid smell of gunpowder choked her throat.

* * *

Dave crouched over Jen and held her down. A trickle of blood flowed from the side of her head where it hit the file cabinet handle. She looked at him, shuddering and dazed, but still conscious. Thank God all the other employees had left the building.

The desk phone rang and went to the answering system.

“You’ve been warned,” a computer-altered voice said. “You deny me again, and next time it’ll be your girlfriend.”

Jen gaped wide-eyed behind her glasses. Her teeth chattered, and she clung to his shoulders like a novice rock-climber. “Why is this happening? I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

“We’re going to be together a long time.” He stroked her hair while making soothing sounds to calm her.

What was he promising? His heart had died when Jocelyn died, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He’d dismissed the threats. Their parting words, an argument. “You’re always on an airplane,” Jocelyn had said. “Don’t you care about the stalker?”

His last words. “I can’t sit around holding your hand. You have Jennifer. Bye.” And then the phone call he’d never forget from the police chief telling him Jocelyn had been killed.

“I want...” She snuffled in his neck. “There’s still so much I want to do.”

Dave kissed her. “And I want you to do all those things with me. I do.”

She sobbed as if he had stabbed her heart and twisted the knife. He hugged her tighter, weaving his fingers in her hair and rocking her.

Sirens sounded and footsteps pounded toward them.

* * *

Jen shuddered while waves of nausea contorted her stomach and pain ate her gut. What she had done to him was beyond repair. She had caused all the calamities in his life—caused him to lose both his wife and daughter, caused him untold hours of grief and despair. If she hadn’t been late, Jocelyn wouldn’t have parked so far, and…

Sirens walloped outside and hurried footsteps approached. Jen flailed to get out of Dave’s embrace. He ran to the door and called to the rescuers.

Jen huddled in the corner of the office, the slow churn of her belly colliding with her heart’s frantic palpitations. She touched her temple, and blood smeared her fingers.

She should have died in the explosion. What a thief she had been to get close to Dave, to think she could steal his affection and pilfer his concern. She had to get away from him, away from the crushing guilt, the voices of reproach.
How can you live with yourself? Let the sun shine on your face while Jocelyn’s in the dirt? How can you enjoy Dave’s kisses and his hugs when Abby is lost forever, either dead or abused? Cold, and hungry, or God forbid, sold to child traffickers.

She could not face herself, face him, face God. It wasn’t just a matter of sleeping through the kidnapping. She should have been more suspicious and careful. She shouldn’t have let Rodrigo into the house. And she definitely shouldn’t have let him take her virginity.

Six years had not dimmed the awful, sinking feeling that she had been used. After he returned from the Philippines he had cut her off because she asked him if he took Abby. She had even called in an anonymous tip, and the police had searched his trailer but found no evidence. And for that, he hated her and never spoke to her again. Duped, deflowered, and dumped.

The paramedics placed her on a stretcher. They questioned her about the head wound. Lights flashed in her eyes. Her ears rung, and she couldn’t catch her breath, much less speak coherently to the police. She dimly remembered Dave playing the message to the police. And it scared her. The kidnappers had not done this right. An explosion brought police attention. Now they’d be even more dangerous.

Chapter 23

Dave called Greta from the ambulance. “There’s been an explosion. Jen is okay, but I’m taking custody of her.”

“Are you crazy?” Greta asked. “Seems like she’d be safer with me.”

“I’ll transfer one hundred thousand to you.” Claire would lend it to him, he was sure.

“You really are nuts. You’re making it easy for me to win that lawsuit.”

“Jen’s more important than your lawsuit. Someone is extorting me and threatening to kill her. If we’re separated, she’d be in danger.”

“Really? You’re too old to be playing cowboy with the big hat. Leave this to the professionals. But I’m still going with her to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow at her sister’s foster parents’ house.”

“Sure, that’s fine. She ought to be safe there.” Dave ended the call.

Dave opened his briefcase and took out the photo album. Jennifer’s chubby face smiled at him, her arm around Jocelyn. Photos of Abby and Jennifer cluttered the album. He’d never looked at Jennifer closely. But now that he truly saw her, his heart swelled with an exhilarating and dangerous flood. He shoved the photos back, his hands shaking. Tempting emotions crested over the seawall of his exile, licking at his bruised and broken heart. It was so close he could almost touch it. But Abby was still missing, and Jen had been responsible.

* * *

Dave paced in the waiting room. The doctors said Jen had suffered a concussion and they would hold her overnight for observation. When they carted her off the ambulance, she’d been screaming, “Kill me and give Abby back to him.”

One of the doctors said fifty-one-fifty, which was code for suicide watch. Dave pulled the album from his briefcase. Letters from Jennifer to Jocelyn were tucked in between every page. He shouldn’t pry, but he had to know everything about her. Perhaps there’d be a clue, an event, or a mutual friend. Dave didn’t know much about Jocelyn before their whirlwind romance. Her family hadn’t welcomed him, almost as if he intruded into a secret society and missed all the handshakes and gestures. As far as they were concerned, he’d stolen their daughter the day he knocked on their door, gave her the Gospel, and asked her to go church with him.

Dave slouched in the sofa and fell asleep hugging his laptop bag.

He woke the next morning, stiff and sore. Two doctors shuffled to the vending machine with their surgical booties and gowns partially tied. They grumbled about the dried turkey sandwiches.

Dave’s phone buzzed. It was Phil Marshall, his lawyer.

“You failed to show up at the courthouse yesterday. I don’t have to warn you again. You’re ruining your case. They’re already calling you and Jen the Bonnie and Clyde hit-and-run murderers.”

“So what else is new?” Frustration pulsed from his aching head. “The kidnappers have turned violent. Your theory about them being amateur extortionists with Facebook photos was wrong.”

“Actually, they did get the photos off Facebook,” Phil replied. “I created an account for Rey Custodio and surprisingly enough, the two idiots who kidnapped Jen friended it. They’re linked to Patty Brown, and the photos come from her album.”

Dave jerked to a stop in the middle of the waiting area. “What?”

Patty Brown was his Little Brother Alex’s mother.

“Yes.” Phil continued. “The little girl is either her daughter or her niece. I can’t tell, but the extortionist took all the pictures that didn’t have an adult in them and saved them to the memory stick they sent you. Unfortunately, Patty did not protect her account and everyone can see those pictures, so it’ll be hard to narrow down the culprit. Although, I would suspect the two idiots first. Their names or pseudonyms are Barry Blanks and Tim LaRue.”

Dave’s throat tightened. “And they kidnapped Jen?”

“Yes. One has a scruffy beard and wild eyes. The other one has big biceps with a tattoo of some type.”

“That matches the description Jen gave to the police. Call the police to round them up.”

“I already did. How about you? I saw the fight on OgleShare.”

Dave groaned and flipped his iPad out of his briefcase. “Let me log onto Facebook. Why is everything revolving around Rey Custodio?”

“You could also ask why everything revolves around Jen Jones.”

Dave scratched his neck. “Do you think the girl is Abby?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Phil replied. “This is typical of cold cases. Most new evidence are dead ends. Remember how hard it was for you to recover from your depression? This could be nothing more than harassment and extortion. There could also be copycatting going on. By the way, where’s the memory stick they sent the slideshow on? I’d like to look for fingerprints and other evidence.”

Dave groaned. Jen had taken it. “Uh… I misplaced it. I have to go to the boy’s room.”

Dizziness and cold sweat bathed him, and memories of the days after the kidnapping assaulted him. Post traumatic stress, that was what his therapist called it. He locked himself in the bathroom and struggled to slow his breathing. Could Abby really be this close, or were they playing with his mind?

* * *

The nurse knocked and announced the doctor. After a night of being waken every two hours, Jen’s eyes ached. The doctor stepped in with a tablet computer.

Jen forced a smile. If she wanted to be released, she had better answer his questions. He blinked, appearing like an intellectual owl behind round wire-rimmed glasses.

“I’m feeling much better,” she said. “And I don’t want to die. I was frightened, that’s all.”

The doctor typed on the virtual keypad. “Have you ever imagined ways in which you could kill yourself?”

“No. When I talked about dying, it was abstract. Besides, I have a little sister in a foster home. She needs me, and we’re supposed to have Thanksgiving together.”

The doctor regarded her with his fingers on his chin. “What are your feelings about your younger sister living in a foster home?”

“I’m sad that I can’t take care of her. But I’m happy that her foster parents are great. I’m looking forward to spending the day with them.”

He tapped a few more times on his tablet and smiled. “I think we can release you. It was probably the shock of the explosion.”

She shivered. “Yes. Anyone would be freaked out. But Mr. Walker is a policeman, so I’ll be safe at his house.”

A nurse poked her head in. “Ms. Debeers is here to take you home.”

Greta stepped in and gave her a warm hug. “Oh, Jen, I can’t imagine almost being blown up by a car bomb. I saw it in the news. There’s a crater in the parking lot outside of Jewell’s office, and the windows are boarded up.”

Her words caused a quaking chill to traverse Jen’s shoulders. She bustled around the room. “Let’s get your things. What was it, your purse and glasses?”

Jen looked around. “Yes, I left my laptop at the office again.”

Greta patted her back. “No work today. Let’s go.”

Jen scanned the lobby. A clump of people congregated in front of a television, and a few others were hunched over electronic devices. She hadn’t really expected him to wait for her, but disappointment still dampened her spirits.

She followed Greta to the garage. Right after the explosion Dave had said he wanted her in his life. But first, she had to find Abby. Nothing would be okay until then.