Kidnapped Hearts (32 page)

Pamela knew better than to argue. At the
hospital, Paul had said he was afraid she was overdoing it, and Jake had
agreed. She was fatigued, but she needed to see her café and check on whatever
Charlene had mumbled about last night. “Okay.”

He kissed her cheek and watched her walk
toward the café.

“Go already. I’m okay.” She smiled,
waving him on.

Paul nodded and hopped back in his Jeep
once he saw Mark McDowell, A.K.A.
Panama
Jack, open the front
entrance to The Memory Café.

She stepped over the threshold, and Mark
enfolded her in his arms for a moment. “Pamela, how’s the shoulder?”

“Boss.” Sue interrupted, dropping her
tray on a nearby table before she crossed to Pamela. “How the heck are you?”
Sue eyed Pamela’s shirt, minus a sleeve, a cast in its place. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come to
work in jeans and tennis shoes.”

“I wouldn’t now, but I wasn’t about to
put a hole in one of my dresses to come to work. Has everything been running
okay here?”

Pamela smiled. Sue was always so full of
energy. “I’ll tell you how I am.” Sue patted Mark’s stomach with the back of
her hand. “Great. I get to see this guy every morning.”

Pamela looked back and forth at the two
of them.
Were they having a fling?

Sue giggled and waved her hand. “Get your
mind out of the gutter. I’m too old for our boy Mark here, but he’s great at
making sure the café is safe.”

Pamela wondered, why would he do such a
thing? She decided not to ask. The old saying,
you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth
came to mind. “Thank
you.”

“Not a problem.”

“I need to find Charlene.”

“In the kitchen. She’s a jumpy one,” Sue
clucked, then gave Pamela an air kiss before checking on her customers.

Mark crossed his arms and leaned back
against the wall.

“Are you the café’s bodyguard?” Pamela
asked.

“Yep, Jake’s orders.”

“Since when?”

“Since, this whole mess started.”

Well,
that explains why Jake wasn’t worried about the café.
Pamela pushed the kitchen door open.

Charlene looked up from slicing tomatoes,
but didn’t meet Pamela’s eyes. All the color drained from her face.

Pamela twisted, looking behind her. No
one was there. Why was Charlene scared to see her? “Hi, Charlene.”

“Hhii, Paam—” She cleared her throat.
“Hi, Pamela.” She looked back down at the tomatoes. “How’s your shoulder?”

Charlene had been a little odd when
Pamela interviewed her, but she chalked it up to interviewee nerves. Marge’s
reference check on her came back with rave reviews, so she’d figure she would
deal with a little jumpiness to keep the food quality up to par. Now, she
needed to figure out why Charlene had called her about The Memory Café’s
finances. “About your phone call last night?”

Charlene dropped the knife on the floor
and quickly picked it up. “Um, yeah, the bank called and wants you to come over
today to talk to them.”

“Who called?”

Charlene studied the tomato she was
butchering. “I don’t remember.”

Pamela shrugged. “I’ll get Paul to take
me over when he picks me up.” She headed for the door.

“No!”

Pamela faced Charlene. “No?”

“I mean, they asked for a meeting this
morning. I’m caught up on everything, so I’ll run you to the bank.”

“Who will cook?”

“Oh, I asked the waitress that helps in
the kitchen once in a while to come in.”

She needed another pain pill. “Are you
talking about Darlene?”

“Yes.”
                                                            

It didn’t make sense that the bank hadn’t
called about the books previously. They met once a month to go over her monthly
profit and loss statement. Maybe she’d miss this month. Pamela touched her
forehead. She was so fatigued. The meeting should be quick. She’d meet with
them then go home. “Okay. Let me know when Darlene arrives.”

Charlene nodded as Pamela strolled toward
her office. She closed the door behind her and dropped into the chair.
Exhaustion plagued her body, molding her to the chair.

The phone rang, and she snatched it up.

Before she had a chance to speak, the
person on the other end breathed, “Pamela.”

His voice was music to her ears. “Jake,
are you feeling better?”

He chuckled. “About the same since you
saw me an hour ago. The question is how are you? Is Mark there?”

“I’m okay, and yes, your hound dog is
here.”

“I had to make sure your café was being
taken care of. I didn’t know who to trust at the bureau, and I knew Mark would
keep a good eye on things.”

She sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

I’m
worn out
. “Nothing. I have to go to the bank in a
little bit to check on the café’s account.”

There was a knock on the door. “Hang on a
sec, Jake.”

“I’m ready. Darlene’s here.” Charlene
forced a smile.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

When Charlene closed the door. “I’ve got
to go, Jake, but I’ll call you after the meeting.”

“Who’s taking you?”

“Charlene.”

“Pamela, take Mark with you, too.”

“I’ll look for him. The quicker I get
this done, the faster I can get home. I shouldn’t have come in today.”

“I love you, Pamela.”

She closed her eyes. “I love you, too.
I’ll call when I get home.”

Pamela gathered her purse and went to
look for Mark. Charlene stood at the backdoor waiting.

“Wait a second. I want Mark to ride with
us.”

“Oh, he uh, left a few minutes ago for
lunch. “ Charlene opened the door.

Pamela followed and scooted into the
passenger seat while Charlene climbed behind the wheel of a white Oldsmobile.

Charlene seemed on edge. The bank was
only a few blocks away. Pamela spoke quickly. “So, how do you like working at
the café?”

“I love it,” Charlene said even as tears
started to roll down her face.

“Charlene, what’s wrong?”

Charlene pinched her lips together and
gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“The bank’s this way.” Pamela pointed at
a side street.

Charlene
met Pamela’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Pamela’s
eyes widened. “Sorry for what?”

The
light turned red, and Charlene stopped the car, her shoulders tense. The back
door snapped open.

A
hand slipped across Pamela’s mouth. “You do as I say, or I’ll blow off your
fucking head.”

Cold,
hard metal touched the side of her face. From the corner of her eye, the gun
stared back at her. Heart pounding and her pulse racing, she glanced at
Charlene, who had tears streaming down her cheeks.

The
light turned green, but Charlene didn’t move. Horns honked behind them.

“Move,”
the man from the backseat demanded.

Charlene
pushed on the gas and moved at a snail’s pace.

“Keep
poking along, Pixie, and I’ll knock your skull in when we reach the cabin.”

Charlene
stomped on the gas. From the car’s motion, the man’s grip lessened on Pamela’s mouth,
then tightened again. Pamela bit the meat on his palm.

“Bitch!”
His hand moved from her mouth a second before he smacked her cheek.

Charlene
swerved.

Pamela
held her breath and gingerly touched her stinging face.

Pamela
grimaced, closed her eyes, and prayed someone would realize she was gone. Her
lips pulled inward, she opened her eyes and glimpsed Charlene. “What have you
done?” Pamela’s voice broke as she spoke.

“Shut
up! Don’t either of you say a fucking word.” The gun moved off Pamela to Charlene’s
shoulder. “Don’t forget your boy.”

A
loud sob erupted from Charlene.

Pamela’s
eyes darted, she twisted and eyed the man, then glanced at Charlene’s shoulders
shaking and her knuckles turning white from the grip she had on the steering
wheel.

Pamela’s
cell phone rang from inside her purse.

Pain
shot through her scalp as her head was jerked backwards by her hair. “Give me
the damn phone!”

She
leaned her head farther back, attempting to ease the pain. It didn’t work.

“The
phone!”

Before
she could look at the caller ID, he released her hair and snatched it out of
her hand.

The
phone stopped ringing.

“Give
me your phone,” he commanded Charlene. She reached inside her purse and passed
it back.

Seconds
ago, she had hoped the FBI could track her cell phone. All hope died with the
jingle of the phones powering off.

Pamela
looked out the window and considered her surroundings. They’d left the
Fredericksburg
area and
were now driving up a mountain road. The man didn’t tell Charlene when to turn.
“How do you know where to drive, Charlene?” Pamela whispered.

A
sharp pain pierced her head just before everything went black.

****

Jake
flipped the channels on the TV’s remote from his hospital bed. He’d been on
edge for the last ten minutes, ever since Pamela had called him. The news
clicked on; a segment about Sanjar’s death by an unknown means made the
headlines. He changed the channel, and his gut clenched. Damn it, something was
wrong. He picked up the hospital phone and dialed Pamela’s cell. When she
didn’t answer, he called Mark.

“Is
she back, yet?”

“Who?”

“Pamela.
Who do you think?”

“Calm
your ass down, man. She’s in her office.”

Jake
released a breath.
She’s okay
. Good,
but he needed to make sure. His instincts said something bad was amiss. “Go lay
eyes on her.”

There
was a pause on the other end, then, “Shit!”

“Check
the kitchen. Is Charlene there?”

Another
pause.

Mark
came back on the line. “Darlene said they went to the bank. They must have left
when I was in the bathroom. I never saw them leave.”

“What?
Did you set up residence in there?”

“No,
asswipe. I was in and out.”

“Sorry,
Mark. Call me if Pamela returns.” He slammed the phone down on the TV tray.

His
room phone rang.
Good, they’ve returned
.
“Gibson.”

“Jake,
Charlene Smith has skeletons in her closet.”

“I’m
listening, Dennis.” Jake pulled his IV from his arm. The morphine drip had been
removed earlier this morning after he declined any more.

“Charlene’s
husband, Andrew Smith, skipped town on her son and her two years ago.”

“She
has a son?”

“Yes,
Henry, he’s seven. The Smiths bought a café in Colonial Beach five years ago
called The Café.”

“Why
work as a chef at another café then?”

“My
sentiments exactly. Her husband left her in a mound of debt. With the slump in
the economy, the livelihood of her restaurant was in jeopardy.”

“I’m
not following you.”

“Two
servers at The Café identified Jameson from a picture. Evidently, he visited
the café a few times. Each visit, Charlene and Jameson argued. On the last
visit, Jameson threatened her. He said she had better follow through with their
deal or he would deliver on his threat. The server who overheard Jameson’s
comments approached Charlene, but she said nothing happened. Next, we tracked
her son. We found Charlene’s mother, who baby-sits the boy, in the hospital.
Someone did a number on her and took the kid.”

“This
is just now being discovered?”

“The
mother didn’t talk. She said if she did, the people who beat her would kill her
grandson and daughter.”

“Why
is she divulging this information now?” Jake rubbed his arm where the needle
was.

“Change
of heart, now she’s afraid if she doesn’t tell the authorities, he’ll kill
them. Bottom line, she didn’t know what to do. She thought she was doing what
was in the best interest of her daughter and grandson.”

“Did
anyone ever interview Charlene Smith?” Jake stood on the cold hospital floor
and started to pull on his clothes. He had enough pain medicine in his body to
last a while. If he needed more, he’d call on Steve and his magic syringe.

Agent
Dennis cleared his throat. “Lever did.”

“Was
he working for Sanjar and Jameson?”