LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance (15 page)

Lucien

“What does it say?” Ruben demanded, moving around my desk as quickly as he could.

Jacob held up Adrienne’s phone, revealing the lit screen. I hadn’t even realized I’d left the phone with him. But there it was, more words scribbled across it. Words that would tell us what we had to do to get Adrienne back.

Ruben snatched the phone away before I could even get close to Jacob.

“Roses are red, violets are blue. You know where. Be there at ten.”

Ruben frowned as he stared at the words. But Jacob knew what it meant. I could see it written on his face. And so did I.

If I hadn’t seen the footage from Adrienne’s camera, I would know now who was behind all this.

“What does it mean?” Ruben asked.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “It must mean something to you. Or the kidnapper wouldn’t have sent it.”

“Maybe it’s just meant to confuse us,” Robert suggested. “Maybe they know we’re here.”

Ruben stared at me, his eyes narrowing so much that I could barely see his pupils.

“No. This one knows what this means.” He gestured to me with the phone. “And I’m guessing you know who’s behind all of this, too.”

I had a choice in that moment. I could lie to him and make a permanent enemy out of him. Or I could tell him the truth—or at least part of it—and hope that he’d trust me enough to allow me to do what I had to do to get Adrienne out of this mess.

I looked at Jacob. He was watching me, waiting for me to make a decision. I could see it in his eyes. I wondered what he would do if this was Lynn we were trying to save.

But, then again, if this was Lynn, it would be a whole different story.

“The poem refers to something my wife and I used to say to each other,” Jacob said, his eyes on me as he spoke. “The message wants us to meet at a bed and breakfast in Katy where Lynn and I used to spend long weekends.”

Ruben glanced from him to me. And then he focused on Jacob.

“We need the address. I’ll send a couple of guys to check it out ahead of time. And then the two of you,” he said, gesturing to me as well as Jacob, “will go at ten, and we’ll watch.”

“Okay,” I said almost eagerly.

“Don’t try anything,” Ruben said, pushing my shoulder as I started to turn. And then he was in my face. “If anything happens to Adrienne because you weren’t completely honest with me, you will suffer.”

His voice sort of squeaked on the last syllable. There was so much emotion in his voice. It was more than clear how deeply he felt about his daughter. But, the thing was, I felt the same way. If anything happened to Adrienne, I would never forgive myself.

I followed Jacob out of the office. The moment we were clear of prying eyes, Jacob grabbed my arm and dragged me into his office.

“There’s something wrong with all this.”

“I know.”

“Why would something between Lynn and I—”

“Because Lynn’s involved.”

Jacob’s face became a thundercloud. “What do you mean?”

“It was Lynn on the camera.”

“What camera?”

“Adrienne put a camera in my office to see if she could prove that someone’s been messing around with my computer. And she caught Lynn in there just after midnight.”

“Lynn was in your office? How the hell did she get into the building?”

“She’s your wife, Jacob,” I said, stepping back slightly and glancing over my shoulder, hoping Ruben was standing just outside the door. “The guards all know her; they all know her relationship to you. They would let her in.”

“What did she do in your office?”

I shrugged. “She left something on the desk.”

“What?”

I shook my head. “A note, I think. But it was gone.”

“Gone?”

“Jaime took it.” I straightened up even as I said it. “It was on the video. Jaime came into my office before dawn this morning, did something on the computer, and then took the note.”

Jacob turned away and dragged his fingers through his hair, pacing as he considered what I’d said.

“How do we know that Lynn being here has anything to do with what’s happening, then? Maybe the note was just that. A note.”

I nodded slowly. “But Adrienne saw something on the video—”

“Maybe Adrienne misunderstood what Lynn was doing.”

“I don’t think so. Adrienne knows her stuff.”

Jacob glanced at me. “I think you might be letting your feelings cloud your thinking.”

I shook my head. “Adrienne knows this case in and out. She would know if there was something relevant.”

I turned and checked the alcove outside our offices, looking for Ruben and his men. But they were all still in my office. I crossed to Jaime’s desk and began searching through it for whatever it was she’d taken. There was nothing obvious at first. But then, tucked into the back of a drawer, I found a small envelope with my name written across the outside in Lynn’s handwriting. I took it back to Jacob’s office and quickly tore it open.

Lucien,
it began,
I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night. I never should have shown up at that restaurant the way I did. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I guess that I wasn’t thinking. I miss you and Jacob and everyone else, and I just… Well, there are no words for what I did. Thank you for your grace in handling the situation, and I apologize if I caused any trouble for you and your new girl.

It was signed simply with a large, cursive L.

I handed it to Jacob, who read it quickly and handed it back.

“Why didn’t she just leave it at the front desk or send it with a messenger?”

Jacob shrugged. “That’s not the way Lynn does things. She wants the personal touch. Maybe she was hoping the security guards would tell you she was here.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense. Lynn is sneaking around, Jaime’s hiding the note. And then Adrienne—”

“Whoever took Adrienne had to have known you were in San Antonio. That person had to have followed you there.”

“Then it couldn’t have been either Lynn or Jaime, because we left my place at a little after ten.”

“Did anyone else know you were going?”

“Just Adrienne and me. It was a last minute decision.”

“Then somebody was watching the house. Or followed you from Dad’s.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Doesn’t mean much.”

“The house is behind a gate. If someone had been sitting outside the gate, or if they had gone through the gate, the security guard would have noted them.”

Jacob began to nod enthusiastically. “He would have. Call him.”

I tugged my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed the security gate outside my housing community. When the phone was picked up, I simply asked if a strange car had been noted outside last night or if anyone had come through the gate between the time Adrienne and I arrived and when we left.

No one. Nothing.

So much for that.

“But that’s good news,” Jacob said.

“How is that good news?”

“It means that whoever followed you to San Antonio knows you. It means whoever it was knows about the security gate and knew to wait far enough back to not be seen. It means whoever it was is probably someone we know.”

“How is that good?”

“Because we can call the hotel where you stayed and get a list of guests who checked in after you. And then we will likely recognize the name, even if they thought they were being smart and used a false one.”

Jacob pulled out his own phone and began to dial.

“Who are you calling?”

“The hotel.”

“How do you know which hotel it was?”

“You stay at the same hotel every time you go to San Antonio.”

I nodded slowly, my thoughts moving a thousand miles a second. “What if the person who did this, what if they figured out where I was going and checked in before us?”

Jacob just nodded, but the line must have been picked up on the other side, because he began speaking.

“Yes, this is Detective Wallace from the Houston police department. We’re looking for a suspect in a robbery. I was wondering if you would be willing to give me a list of your guests who checked in between ten o’clock and six on Monday night, Tuesday morning.”

He listened a moment, said something about getting a warrant, and then he gestured for a pen. When I handed it to him, he began to write quickly in this shorthand that I’ve always teased Jacob for using. It’s not a sort of shorthand that anyone else can read. It’s something he devised himself in high school that he’s never explained to anyone. He wrote quickly then thanked whoever was on the other end of the line.

He didn’t speak immediately.

That told me more than any words he could have spoken.

Adrienne

She came back a little less than an hour later.

“This isn’t about the Alzheimer’s drug?”

She ignored me in favor of cleaning up the rest of the oatmeal mess she’d left behind before.

“What is it that you want? Why are you doing this?”

“We have our reasons.”

“You have a reason for torturing your own brother?”

She stiffened, all movement ceasing. But then she just started cleaning again.

“Rachel, I know it’s you. And if I know, I’m sure Lucien is figuring it out right now. Lucien and Jacob.”

“Not necessarily.”

“You followed us to San Antonio. You followed us on the Riverwalk. You were even on the elevator with us, weren’t you?”

Again she stiffened, but she didn’t stop working. She cleaned those cans until the labels were moist and beginning to flake off.

“Do you really think Lucien won’t think back on every moment of time we spent there and realize that was you? If he hadn’t been so focused on me, he probably would have realized it at the time.”

“He doesn’t know.”

“But he will. What will you do then?”

“By then, we’ll have what we want.”

“You’re his sister. Do you think he’ll understand?”

She turned and looked at me, slowly tugging the mask off of her face. Her eyes were wide and red, as though she’d been crying.

“He did this. We asked him over and over…”

“Asked him what?”

She shook her head. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Then let me go. Let me call Lucien. We can work something out.”

She shook her head. “It’s too late for that. He’s got your father involved.”

“I can handle my dad.”

She just shook her head again even as tears began to spill over her cheeks. “Things were supposed to be so simple. We send a couple of emails, shake him up a little. And then he would do what we wanted. But it wasn’t that simple. And now—”

“Let me go, Rachel. Let me fix this.”

“How are you going to fix it?”

That was a good question. I didn’t know.

“I can talk to Lucien.”

“We’ve talked and talked. He’s not talking back.” She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t understand what he’s done.”

“Then tell me.”

She studied my face for a long minute; then she just shook her head. “There’s no point in talking anymore. We all understand that now. You should, too.”

“Maybe if I knew what was going on,” I said, dipping my head in what I hoped was a defeated look. But I wasn’t defeated. Another pull and—

“I should go,” Rachel said. “I’m not supposed to be in here.”

She turned just as my wrist came free of the cable tie holding it in place. I jumped to my feet, kicking at the chair until it fell over and my ankles came free from the bottom of the chair legs. I rushed Rachel, grabbing her shirt just as she was about to slip out the door.

Rachel cried out as she fell back. I moved around her and slipped out the door, pulling it shut. It locked automatically, just as I’d suspected, and she was trapped inside. She immediately began banging against the door, screaming for me to open it, but I wouldn’t have known how even if I’d wanted to.

I was standing in a well-outfitted kitchen that I knew almost instantly. Stupid girl had brought me to her parents’ beach house. That’s how I’d known it was her. I’d recognized it when she brought me inside.

I went to the sink and ran cool water over my raw wrists. It burned, forcing me to close my eyes and whisper a few unkind words. I was bleeding pretty good from where the cable ties had bitten into my flesh. Nothing so bad that I would need stitches, but it would be pretty sore for a couple of days. I found a couple of towels in a nearby drawer and wrapped them around my wrists. Then I searched the cabinets for some sort of bandage, but couldn’t find anything.

I walked cautiously through the kitchen into the long, open living room. I didn’t think there was anyone else here, but thought I’d be better off safe than sorry. I pulled the blinds in the living room, blocking the dim moonlight coming in through the French doors and long, beautiful windows on either side of the room. Then down the hall, peeking inside each of the four bedrooms. Then the master.

Nothing.

I slipped into the room I’d shared with Lucien on our visit here this past weekend. He had a first aid kit in a drawer there. I fixed my wrists and removed the cable ties on my ankles with a pair of scissors in another drawer. Then, down the hall to the master bedroom, I searched through a few dresser drawers and found a pair of jeans that weren’t too terribly large for me. A belt could do wonders.

A pair of shoes and a light jacket, and I felt more like myself.

Now…what the hell was going on? And who the fuck was ‘we’?