Hush (23 page)

And she knew Emma must be dying inside.

She didn't know whether to honk, park, or circle. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass Emma.

Compromising, she drove around the corner, pulled into a parking spot out of sight, and texted Emma where she was.

A moment later, Emma came running around the corner. Hesitating, she looked around, saw the car, ran toward it, and threw herself inside.

“Go.”
Emma dropped her bag in the footwell, grabbed her seat belt, and pulled it on even as Riley obediently started the car and backed out of the space. “I don't want anybody to see you.”

“Why?” Putting the car in drive, Riley headed out of the complex.

“I told them a hot football player from Pearland was picking me up.”

Considering that Emma did not as yet know any football players from Pearland, much less any hot ones, Riley recognized the lie for what it was—an attempt to save face with Brent and the others—and made a sympathetic face at Emma in acknowledgment. As Riley pulled out onto Willowick, Emma lifted her hair away from her face and with quick, jerky movements twisted it into a knot at her nape. Then she blew out a sound that was part groan, part sigh.

Braking for a red light, Riley caught the scent of booze. “Have you been drinking?”

“Don't start. I had like half a beer. It was a
party
.” She leaned her head back against the top of the seat and stared at the ceiling. “I hate my life
so much
.”

“How did you even get there?” Riley pulled out through the intersection, heading for the freeway. Traffic was almost nonexistent—she could see the lights of maybe three other vehicles, none of them close. They were out of the residential area now, and commercial establishments, most of them closed, lined the road on both sides. It was too dark inside the car to allow her to see Emma's expression, but she could hear the unhappiness in her voice.

“Jen Combs and Sara Loomis picked me up. It's Neely Shafer's birthday. Her sister has an apartment there, so she was able to use the party room, and everybody was invited to spend the night.”

“Did you say anything about this earlier?” Because if so, Riley had missed it.

“I didn't know about it until Jen called and asked if I was going. I mean, I knew it was Neely's birthday, but I didn't know about the party.” Turning her head, she looked at Riley. There was a despairing note to her voice. “I wasn't even invited. I just—when Jen called I just—I'm so sick of staying home and not being a part of things anymore and . . .”

Her voice trailed off.

“And you thought it would give you a chance to see Brent,” Riley finished for her. Reaching the expressway entrance, Riley discovered to her annoyance that it was blocked off: damned
road construction. She drove on, into the uber-darkness beneath the overpass, heading for the next on-ramp, which was about three miles away.

“Yeah,” Emma admitted.

“Didn't work out so well, huh?” There was sympathy in Riley's voice, and in the glance she shot Emma, who shook her head dispiritedly.

“It was awful. Everybody's just
different
with me now, like I have a fatal disease or something. They're either way too nice, or they kind of stay away and
look
at me. Neely even came up to me and said this thing like, ‘I'm so sorry I forgot to invite you, there's plenty of room, please stay the night,' which was so
humiliating
.” Emma took a deep, shuddering breath. “And the only thing Brent said to me all night was
hi
like he barely even knew me, until right there at the end when I was outside waiting for you and they all came out. When he saw me standing there he said, ‘Hey, we're going swimming, should be a blast, you ought to stay,' like he
pitied
me. And he had his hands all over Julie just like he'd had them all over her all night and when I ran into her in the bathroom right before I called you she told me they're going out.” That last bit that came out in a rush told Riley how painful even talking about it was. As she finished, Emma folded her arms over her chest like she was cold. Riley knew that wasn't it, but still she automatically reached out to turn down the air-conditioning. “Jen and Sara couldn't give me a ride home because they were spending the night and I didn't want to go around asking everybody if they were ready to leave and I—I just couldn't stay.”

Riley hurt for her. “I'm sorry, Em.”

“I know.” Emma slumped in her seat. “Thanks for coming to get me, by the way.”

“Any time.” Riley glanced at her and asked, “Did you tell your mother you were going out?”

A negative shake of her head. “She was in bed.”

“Emma—” Riley started to remonstrate, but Emma looked so woebegone that she changed what she had been going to say to “There really will be hunky football players at East Pearland, you know. I'll bet you a mani-pedi at Timothy's that you'll be all like, ‘Brent who?' two weeks after you start.”

Emma made a skeptical face. “Yeah, but they'll all know about Dad, too.
Everybody
knows. It's like I'm branded or something.”

“Anybody that makes a difference to is somebody you don't want in your life anyway.” Riley braked for another red light. They were close to the expressway on-ramp in an area lined with warehouses that appeared deserted at that hour. The long, corrugated metal buildings were enclosed by a succession of tall, chain-link fences. A few security lights glowed close to the warehouses and thus far away from the road, but other than that and the headlights of a van that had passed them a few minutes ago and was already stopped at the light, and their own headlights, which basically illuminated the back of the van, this part of the four-lane road was dark as a cave.

Emma said, “Yeah, right.”

“It's—” Riley began, but never finished. A blur of movement outside Emma's window made her look sharply toward it. Riley's breath caught: there was a kind of dense shadow right beside the car—

Crash.

Emma's window caved in, shattering faster than Riley could process what was happening. Heart lurching, scream tearing out of her throat, Riley jumped what felt like it should have been a foot in the air only to be restrained by her seat belt. Emma screamed, too, surging toward Riley, doing her best to get out of the way of the exploding window but held in place by her seat belt as pebbles of glass rained in on her. Riley's gaze riveted on a black-clad arm as it shot through the now-missing window to grab at Emma's door handle.

Of course, the doors were locked. Thank God the doors were locked. They would be impossible to open from the outside.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” Panicking, Emma leaned away from the door as she fought to free herself from her seat belt. “Riley,
help
!”

“Em!” Pulse thundering, Riley released her own seat belt and lunged across Emma to beat at the arm—it was a man's arm, black windbreaker, black glove—while Emma, still scrabbling at her seat belt, let loose another sirenlike blast almost in Riley's ear.

A carjacking? A random crime? Or someone else after the missing money?
The terrifying possibilities sent an icy chill shooting down Riley's spine.

“Help!”
Riley screamed, shoving the gloved hand away from the door handle. In the process, her foot slipped off the brake. She only realized what had happened as the car rolled forward to hit the back of the van with a jarring thud that catapulted her sideways, sending her shoulder smacking into the dashboard and stopping the car dead.

The Mazda's headlights reflecting off the van's white double
doors drew her attention and caused the interior of the car to be lighter than it had been a moment before.

The van—now the driver will get out, see what's happening, help us
.

That was the desperate hope revolving through her head as the gloved hand once again grabbed for the door handle. Throwing herself back into the battle, Riley could feel Emma's body twisting with panic against her as Emma fought to get out of her seat belt and away from the door. Blows weren't working; Riley viciously pinched the man's forearm. He yelped, and the arm whipped out of sight.

Adrenaline pouring through her veins, Riley shouted at the shadowy figure looming outside the window: “Get out of here! We don't have anything you want! Go on, go away!”

The arm shot back inside the window in a lightning punch that struck Riley in the forehead just above her right eye.

“Riley!” Emma tried and failed to catch her as Riley was knocked back into her own seat. Emma's head swiveled toward the window.
“Leave us alone!”

Forehead tingling, momentarily a little disoriented by the punch, Riley was aware of Emma screaming like a banshee and flailing away at the dark figure of the man outside the window, who was once again reaching for the inside door handle.

“Help! Somebody help us!”
Emma shrieked, struggling with her seat belt latch.
“Help!”

Glancing wildly at the closed back of the van, Riley thought,
Where's the driver?

To Emma she cried, “Don't let him unlock the door!” and smashed her palm down on the horn—the resultant blast split the
night—in an attempt to attract attention. Then she grabbed for the gearshift.

Can't go forward, must reverse.

Nothing happened when Riley jerked the gearshift. The metal shaft didn't budge.
What . . . ?
Her pulse pounded. Her stomach dropped. She experienced a split second of blind panic in which she yanked at the gearshift with all her strength while Emma's screams exploded through the car. Riley was so flustered and frightened that it was almost impossible to think, but then she remembered that she had to depress the brake first. She did that and yanked the gearshift back just as Emma, shrieking, succeeded in unbuckling her seat belt at last.

Crash
.

Riley screeched and jumped like she'd been shot as her own window shattered. Her heart catapulted into her throat. Even as she was showered with marble-like chunks of glass, part of a man's torso plunged through the broken window. A long arm shot past her to turn off the ignition and snatch her keys. Her instant impression was of a black-gloved hand and a shiny black sleeve.

“No, no, no!” she cried, grabbing futilely for the keys, which were protected in a closed, gloved fist. “Em, quick, jump in the back!”

It was too late. Even as Emma scrambled over the console toward the space between the front seats, a tiny beeping sound—the unlock button on the key ring being depressed; Riley recognized it with a thrill of pure horror—sent Riley's pulse rate skyrocketing.

That was the only warning she got before her door and Emma's were jerked open almost simultaneously.

Riley's heart seemed to stop.

As the interior light blinked on, Emma screamed with fresh intensity and tried to hurl herself into the rear. Too late: struggling wildly, she was grabbed and hauled backward toward the open door.

“Riley! Riley!”

“Emma!”

Mouth sour with fear, Riley grabbed at her, caught at her slim, cool arms, her frantically grasping hands, tried to hold her, to pull her back, then screamed with surprise and pain as a hand fisted in her own hair, snapping her head back, and another one closed ferociously around her arm. Panic surging through her, she fought desperately to hang on to Emma, who was jerked free of her to vanish, shrieking, through the door.

“Riley!”

Screaming, Riley, too, was dragged from the car.
“Emma!”

Outside, the headlights cast weird shadows across the blacktop. The smell of exhaust was strong. In concert with Emma's, Riley's screams pierced the night, almost drowning out the sounds of their struggles and their abductors' threats and curses. Her hair felt like it was being ripped out by the roots as she was kept from falling to her knees by the fist tangled in it. A muscular arm grabbed her, managed to pin her arms to her body. Despite the heat, cold sweat poured over Riley in a wave as she got a lightning glimpse of the black ski mask her captor was wearing and was hit by an instant, horrifying flashback to the attack in her apartment.

No carjacking, no random crime—this is about the money
. Deep down, she'd known it all along. Her heart pounded so hard
it slammed against her breastbone. Her pulse sounded loud as thunder in her ears.

“Get off me!” she cried, throwing her head back in an attempt to head-butt her captor, trying everything she knew to break away.
“Emma!”

Yanking her hair so hard she saw stars, her captor snarled, “Quit fighting or I'll break your damned neck.”

Forget that
. Riley fought like a tigress as she was half carried, half shoved a few steps, then body-slammed facedown against the Mazda's trunk with such force that the breath was knocked out of her.

“Riley!
Help! Help!
” Emma's panicked cries turned into a shrill, terrified scream that was abruptly cut off.

“Emma!” Despite everything, Riley rallied enough to respond, to lift her head in time to watch Emma, a gloved hand over her mouth, a black-clad arm around her waist, being borne, struggling for all she was worth, around the back corner of the van and out of sight.

“Emma!”
Galvanized, Riley summoned every last bit of strength she had.

Aiming the heel of her shoe in a vicious kick back at the right knee of the man holding her and just missing as he dodged at the last second, Riley screamed like a steam whistle, fought to get free—and had her head slammed into the trunk so hard her jaws snapped together and the world went out of focus around her.

“You listen.” Her captor bent over her, holding her in place with his hand in her hair and his body weight pressed against her back, his tone brutal. Too woozy to struggle, Riley lay panting and shuddering against the warm trunk of her car. “We know
George has the billions he stole hidden somewhere. You have three days to find out where it is. You find it, and you tell us. Exactly where the money is, and how to get access to it. If you don't, George will be burying his daughter beside his son. Understand?”