Frustrated, he trotted over to his SUV, grabbed a flashlight, and then rechecked the sidewalk.
Nothing.
Went back to the right of the door.
Again nothing.
Sinking deeper and deeper into despair, he swung the light and turned for the door. This was a waste of time and ener—The beam fanned onto the street and something glinted. Mark stopped.
He stepped off the sidewalk and bent down for a closer look. A ring.
Lisa’s ring
. Actually, her mother’s thin gold band from her marriage to Charles. Lisa always wore it. To take it off her finger, she had to be desperate.
Chills swam up and down Mark’s torso. He examined the pavement. Black scuff marks discolored the concrete. Etched lines—drag marks from her high heels. And a scrap of pale blue fabric. God help him. It was the same color and fabric as Lisa’s gown.
A pager rested near the curb. Jessie’s words echoed through his mind. Lisa had said to page her.
His worst fears confirmed, he whipped out his phone and conference called Jeff and Joe. “I need forensics in the main parking lot.”
“What did you find?” Jeff asked.
Mark squeezed his eyes shut, hating the words he was forced to say. “Proof that Lisa was abducted.”
Dutch drove slowly past the Stateline Hotel’s office door. In the window beside it hung a paper flier. He stopped to read it. Lost puppy. Mixed breed. Call Nina …
Smiling, he drove on. It paid to do business with friends.
Five minutes later, he lifted the edge of the mat outside his door and spotted the key. Masson might be an interfering, opinionated jerk, but he was a gifted cleaner and had made good on his word.
Inside, the place smelled musty and moldy. Annie would never put up with that; she kept a fine house, even if he hated living in it. Twitching his nose, Dutch turned down the thermostat, forcing the air conditioner on to blow out the stench. He messed up the bedding, tossed a couple of potato-chip bags he’d brought with him into the trash can, then snagged a soda from the minibar. Walking into the shoebox-size bath, he poured the drink down the sink, dumped the can into the trash, and messed up three towels washing his hands. Leaving on the light, he returned to the bed area. A few more minutes’ work, and the room appeared as if he’d been in it for hours.
Satisfied, he grabbed the remote and clicked on the television, and then he waited. The hospital had been calling about every fifteen minutes for the past hour. He checked the clock; 1:35 a.m. shone on its face in bold, red numerals. Still had a few minutes to go before they called again.
After dropping onto the bed, he cranked back on the pillows and closed his eyes. A catnap wouldn’t hurt. It’d be a good thing to sound as if he’d just awakened.
He slept like the dead.
The blasting-horn ringtone he’d installed startled him. Dutch sat straight up, grabbed his phone from the nightstand between the two double beds, then fumbled it open. “Yeah.” His voice was thick with sleep. He rubbed at his eyes to clear the blur and checked the clock. Two o’clock, straight up. He must have slept through the 1:45 attempt to call.
“Mr. Hauk?” a woman asked.
“Yeah.” He cleared the fog from his throat. “This is Dutch Hauk.”
“This is Rose Paxton. I’m an RN over at Seagrove Village Community Hospital.”
“Yes?”
She would be the one to call
. He bit down on frustration and rolled out of bed ready to go. Leaving the room lights on to signal a hasty departure, he walked out and let the door slam shut behind him.
“I’m afraid that your wife is with us. She’s in our Intensive Care Unit.”
“Why? Who is she visiting?”
Nice touch—to not assume she was a patient
. He took the elevator down, stared up into the security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling.
There’s your proof I was here
.
“She isn’t visiting anyone, sir. I’m afraid she’s our patient.”
“Annie?”
Good job on the shock. Played just right
. “What for? She was fine when I left home this morning.”
“She was assaulted. The police found her on Highway 98.” Regret laced the nurse’s tone. “Mr. Hauk, you need to know your wife is in critical condition. We’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
“I—I’m in Georgia on business. I guess I’ve been out of range.”
Nice touch
. “Annie’s critical? What’s wrong with her?”
“She has a lot of cuts and bruises and some serious internal swelling, but as far as we can tell, she’s not bleeding internally.”
“That doesn’t sound critical.”
“I’m sorry, sir. It’s been a bit hectic. Your wife suffered a blunt-force trauma to the head,” Rose said. “She’s in a coma.”
Outside now, Dutch rushed his steps to the office door, opened it wide, and hurried inside. “Just a second, please.”
A droopy-eyed clerk appeared from a door behind the desk, wearing a tattered sweater and his glasses parked up on his forehead. Rather than wait for him to ask what Dutch wanted, he said in an urgent rush, “I’m checking out. Here’s my key. It’s an emergency. My wife has been attacked. She’s critical.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.”
Before the clerk could shove paperwork at him, Dutch headed out the door and returned to the nurse on the phone. “Like I said, I’m in Georgia, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Lisa with her? She’s her daughter—a doctor there.” Rose Paxton knew that, of course. She’d known all the Harpers for years.
Couldn’t resist a little jab, pretending not to know you, Rose
.
“Not at the moment.” Rose hesitated. “But some of your wife’s friends are here.”
“What friends?” Annie didn’t have any friends. Not anymore. Was she slipping around with Miranda Kent and her church cronies too?
“People from her church and Crossroads Crisis Center.”
“But Lisa is not there?” Was Rose going to tell him anything about Lisa or not?
“No sir.”
Apparently not. “Well, has she been called?”
“She was notified, yes.”
Cagey
. “Typical.” He heaved a sigh. “Well, if she shows up there, you keep her away from my wife. Annie doesn’t want to see her. You got that?” Dutch said what he’d be expected to say, folded himself into his car, and then cranked the engine.
“I’ve got it.” Rose paused. “I’m sorry to bring you bad news, but I have to get back to my patient.”
Nothing more on Lisa coming from that end. Was that hospital policy or Taylor putting a lid on it? “It’ll take me a couple of hours to get there.” Dutch pulled onto the highway and hit the gas. “Please, take care of my wife.”
“We’ll do our best, Mr. Hauk.”
Dutch felt sure they would. Tight-mouthed Rose Paxton had been Charles’s nurse when he was practicing. She’d take it personally to let his wife die from anything but natural causes.
Even now, he couldn’t wrench Annie away from Charles Harper or her past.
Muttering, Dutch dodged a pothole. Well, maybe he couldn’t. But he’d sure gotten Lisa.
Content with that and with knowing Masson wouldn’t leave Dutch stuck with a vegetable, he leaned back in his seat and let his tires eat up the miles.
13
A
breathless Rose rushed to the entrance of the ICU waiting room and leaned hard against the doorframe. “Dutch is in Georgia.”
Consulting with Ben and Kelly, Mark glanced over. “You’re sure?”
“Relatively sure. I guess it could be faked, but he told someone on his end of the phone that he needed to check out, and from the sounds, I got the impression he was at a hotel. Didn’t sound like a store. I heard the other man’s voice too.”
Mark processed that in context. Everyone was reporting in and impatiently waiting for Jeff and his forensics guy to finish up in the parking lot. Sam was assisting since that was his area of expertise. If anything else was out there, Sam would find it. He had a better nose than a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out evidence.
“Where’s Joe?” Mark sought him but didn’t find him.
“He’s tracking the call.”
Surprised Rose had been the one to answer him, Mark focused back on her.
“He set up a tracer, and then we kept calling Dutch until I finally got him. He said he’d report in as soon as he’s verified Dutch’s location.”
“It’ll be in Georgia.” Mark had no doubt about that. Establishing his alibi was the intent of the trip, removing him as a suspect or a person of interest. Had to be.
“So he didn’t do this to Annie?” Kelly smoothed her hair back from her face.
“I think he had it done.” Mark should probably reserve his opinion, but Lisa was missing. The sooner people structured their thinking in the right direction with that in the equation, the sooner they might make the connection needed to find her. “The evidence is leading us in that direction.”
“Professionals?” Rose shot an incredulous gaze to Mark. “Targeting Annie Harper, er, Hauk?”
Annie and Lisa. A paid hit? Or something else?
Mark didn’t know, not definitively—yet. His instincts were buzzing, yet lacking concrete proof gave him no choice but to hedge. “After Sam’s reviewed the evidence, we’ll have a firmer grip.”
Harvey walked into the waiting room with a red-headed man in his early twenties wearing black scrubs and a white jacket. His eyes stretched wide, and his pockets bulged with medical paraphernalia. The end of a tubing band dangled from the left one.
Everyone fell quiet.
“Mark, this is Don Barnes. He’s a tech down in the lab and he saw Lisa—”
“I don’t know for fact it was her,” Don cut in, “but I did see a woman walking out with two docs. She greeted me by name—that’s why I remember her. I’m new here. Not many know me.”
“Describe her,” Mark said.
“Pretty blonde, wearing a fancy blue dress. The men might not have been docs, but they had on white lab coats like Dr. Talbot’s.”
Mark whipped out his wallet, then flashed it open. “Is this her?”
“Yeah.” Don checked again. “That’s her, all right.”
“So you saw Lisa leave with two men in white lab coats?”
“Yes sir. Well, not exactly. They were headed toward the exit together. I didn’t see where they actually went.” He backed up a step. “But they fit the descriptions of the men Dr. Talbot gave me.”
“I had to describe them, Mark. The cameras didn’t pick up pictures of them anywhere in the hospital.” Harvey frowned, then shrugged. “Wise of you to get Rose’s descriptions down. She nailed these two all the way to the tattoo on Edmunds’s hand.”
“I definitely saw that,” Don told Mark. “It was a spiderweb.” He stretched his fingers and pointed to the fleshy part on his hand between his thumb and forefinger. “Right there.”
“That’s right.”
What doc had a spiderweb tattoo on his hand?
“Was Lisa fighting them?”
“To tell you the truth, I was running and just caught a glimpse of her. But the men weren’t hauling her out kicking and screaming or anything. She was walking between them. They were moving close together. With her calling me by name, I figured they were all staffers. Like I said, I’m new and nobody knows me. I just moved to Seagrove Village from Fairhope.”
Word of someone new on staff passed down the grapevine fast. Of greater interest was that the men walked closely on each side of Lisa. “Thurman,” Mark told the head of hospital security, “if they were close and she wasn’t fighting them, then they had a gun on her. You’ve got a problem there too.”
“They got a gun into the hospital?” Grant Thurman lifted his hands. “How?”
Joe entered the waiting room. “Well, since you didn’t check them because they were supposed to be doctors, I expect they just walked in your door armed.” His voice carried heat, threatening to rekindle their earlier argument.
Thurman swiped at his brow. “We blew it, okay, Joe? I admit it. We’ve never had any trouble here or any reason to expect any and—”
“You got lazy.” Joe jabbed the air with a pointed forefinger. “Well, Lisa’s paying for that, and you’ve got plenty of trouble here now.”
“Yeah, we do. I’m taking responsibility, okay? You can’t make me feel any worse than I already do.” Thurman blew out a long breath. “And I’m sure the board isn’t going to like it either.”
“You can bet on that.” Joe folded his arms across his chest.
Kelly whispered something to Ben. Now why was she panicking? It was written all over her face. “I don’t like it either,” Mark said.
“A gun?” Don frowned, wrinkling the smooth skin on his freckled forehead. “Whoa. I didn’t say that. I didn’t see a gun.” He jabbed a pen back into his pocket, thumbed its clicker repeatedly. “She didn’t look scared. If anything, she looked ticked off.”
“She would be.” Mark shared a look with Joe, who silently agreed.
“I didn’t think a thing about it,” Don said, “until Dr. Talbot said you guys were looking for her.”
Nora brought over a photo of Annie and Dutch and showed it to Don. “Was this one of the two men, dearie?”
“No ma’am.” Don checked again, then shook his head. “Definitely not. Never seen that one before.”
“Ben, stop shushing me. I’m not being paranoid; I’m being cautious—and I am going to ask him.” Kelly fished a packet of photos out of her purse, sifted through, pulled one apart from the stack, then showed it to Don. “Was this man one of them?”
Mark guessed who was in the photo before Don flipped it around and looked. It was a snapshot of the artist’s rendition, all right. Karl Masson.
Masson wanted Kelly dead because she could tie him directly to Gregory Chessman and Paul Johnson, crimes bringing terrorists into the U.S.—NINA crimes. She had good cause to be afraid—they’d nearly killed her several times—and to carry Masson’s sketch in her purse for identification purposes. Kelly lived every day of her life with the fear of knowing he’d be back for her. So did Ben. And so did Mark.
“No, that’s not him.” Don’s eyes darted back and forth rapidly, as if he was trying to slot something in his mind.
Ben sighed. “I told you so.”
“You did, dear. And now I can forget about it.” Clearly relieved, Kelly reached for the photograph.
Don held on to it. “Wait a minute.” His rapid eye movement stopped. “I saw this guy.”
“Oh no.” Kelly tensed.
“Where?” Mark asked. “When?”
“A few hours ago—before Dr. Harper went missing. I was coming in from a break, and he was in the parking lot, sitting in his car. He might have been on the phone. I can’t remember for sure. But it was him. I’m sure of that.”
Kelly gasped. “Oh, Ben. He’s back.”
Ben circled her with a protective arm. “Why would Masson be sitting in the parking lot here, Mark?”
Good question. Why would he show up here on the very night during the very time Lisa was being abducted? There was an unfortunate and obvious reason, and it chilled Mark to the bone. “NINA has Lisa.”
“Why? She can’t identify any of them.” Kelly groaned. “Oh no. Oh, please tell me they didn’t make a mistake and grab her instead of me.” Tears spilled down Kelly’s face. “I can’t be the reason for another woman being—”
“They didn’t get her by mistake, Kelly,” Mark reassured her. “Getting Lisa was the goal. Annie was the bait to get her here so they could snatch her.” Away from Three Gables and its topnotch security to a place where she was vulnerable.
And their plan had succeeded.
Harvey’s expression went from worried to terrified. “Why? What will they do with her? She’s not a threat to NINA.”
“I don’t know.” A sinking feeling settled in Mark. How could he help her when he had no idea why they’d taken her? His own worry reflected in Joe’s eyes. “I just don’t know.”
Joe signaled Mark over, and he stepped away from the others. “What?”
“What’s the plan, bro?”
“Developing. She’ll contact me here. That much I know.”
“So you’ll be staying put.”
Mark nodded. No way would he be anywhere else. Lisa would look here first. He’d be here.
Lisa was not going to be another Jane.
“Wake up.” A woman tapped Lisa’s face.
“Don’t hit her. She’s banged up enough.”
A different voice, another woman. Jarring. Bouncing. The steady hum of tires on the road. She was riding—the truck. She’d been abducted.
Lisa struggled to open her eyes.
Two women sat on the plywood truck bed looking at her.
“Why is there light?” Lisa looked around. There were no windows, just big doors that had been locked.
“My mini-Mag,” the first woman said. She was a redhead. Pretty and petite. “I hate the dark. Everyone laughed at me for stuffing a mini in my, er—next to my heart in my clothes—but I’m glad I did or we’d be in a blackout right now.”
“Who are you?” Lisa’s jaw throbbed. She touched it, her fingers trembling. Swollen.
“Gwen Baker,” the redhead told her. “And this is Selene Gray.”
“
The
Selene Gray? The singer?” She was a superstar.
“Yes, I sing.” She shifted her weight to give Lisa room to sit up. “Or I did. I just canceled my contract.”
“Which is probably why you’re here.” Gwen deflected the light so it wasn’t shining in anyone’s eyes.
“Indirectly, maybe. My manager loves money and he was very upset. If I’m no longer alive, my work is very valuable, and I fear I did a stupid thing.”
“What?” Lisa asked.
“I have no family, so I made my manager my beneficiary. If I don’t sign the contract, my manager loses about a million dollars. If I’m dead, he inherits about ten million and the rights on all my music.”
“But why sell you?” Gwen asked. “Why not just take out a contract on you?”
“Sell you?” Shock rippled through Lisa, but the other women ignored her and kept talking.
“Death benefits pay double in specific circumstances and refuse to pay in others,” Selene said. “He has a special kind of murder in mind, I’d say. One that gives him the most benefits he can get.”
“That’s creepy.” Gwen shivered.