Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (33 page)

Or had James done the dirty work? Shit. This was getting too complicated.

She jumped off the sofa and raced over to the wet bar, her trembling back to them. She picked up a glass and twirled it around before placing it back down. She faced them. “Okay, but if I let you in, Dad will want to know how you even knew me. I can’t exactly introduce you as Peter’s friend.”

“You got that right.”

She pressed her lips together. “I know. I’ll give you the code to the gate. You can come at night when Dad’s asleep and look around. I’ll draw a sketch of the rooms. He doesn’t have to know you’ve been inside.” She picked up her purse, took out a large set of keys, and unhooked one of them. “This gets you into the back door.”

Her action was more than he’d expected. He took the key. “Thank you. You won’t know we’ve been there.”

“If I thought you’d find anything, I wouldn’t let you in. I’m sure my father didn’t take Susan. I’ve been all over the house.”

While he’d never been to the Francisco household, he’d seen online photos of the estate. There was more than one building on the premise. “Are the other buildings locked?”

“The storage shed might be, but I don’t have a key. I know the large garage that houses the antique cars is definitely locked and only Dad has the combination to the padlock.”

Entry into the house was more than he’d hoped, but the possibility he’d keep Susan hostage in the main building where his grandchildren or daughter could find her was slim. Still, he had to try.

He waved the key. “I’ll leave this outside the back door when I leave.”

“Dad stays up late. I’ll turn off the alarm at 2:00 a.m., and I’ll reset the system at four. Will that give you and your team enough time to search?”

“Plenty.”

* * * *

Susan woke up groggy and disoriented. Her teeth had stopped chattering and her shoulders weren’t shivering. The full realization hit her. Her body wasn’t able to keep her warm anymore, which meant she was one step closer to dying.

If she didn’t attempt to get out of this hellhole, she’d never see Stone again. Or her mother or brother. Her father always praised her ability never to quit, and she wouldn’t let him down now.

Only nothing would move. She squeezed her eyes shut and imagined lifting her feet and wiggling her fingers. Straining to move the dead limbs, she twisted her head back and forth.

That’s it. Move the head. Work your way down the body.

Little by little, circulation returned here and there, but pain burned through her blood. Rocking more of her body, she finally shrugged her shoulders. Better, much better. Her toes wouldn’t respond, but she kept active the parts that would move.

She bent her knees and almost cried out from the effort. In what seemed like hours, she got each body part in motion, except for the toes.

The handle above her head jangled. Her breath stopped in her throat. The door opened. Silhouetted against the house light stood a man. She blinked to see his face, but the shadow obscured his features. The cold wind stabbed at her body, and she scrunched into a ball.

“What the hell?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Stone motioned for Pritchard to check Francisco’s shed and for Dalton to search the barn with the antique cars. He and Harrison would check the main house.

Once Stone unlocked the back door, they slipped on gloves and surgical booties. He didn’t need to leave traces of dirt and snow throughout the house, announcing someone had been there. He didn’t think Maria was leading them into a trap, but to be sure, they drew their weapons. One could never be sure when Joseph Francisco would decide to come down for a midnight snack.

They’d already decided who would search where. With strong-beamed lights in hand, they went their own way. Stone took the second floor. He’d memorized which rooms belonged to Joseph, Helena, the two kids, and Maria. While the mansion was large, there wasn’t much to search up there, other than a few hall
closets.

Maria had told him the attic entrance was through the master bedroom, in Joseph’s room. He’d wake Francisco for sure if went past his bed and pulled down the attic door. Until they found proof Susan had been there, they couldn’t get a search warrant. While they had two hours, Stone didn’t need more than fifteen minutes to be convinced Susan wasn’t upstairs. He joined Harrison downstairs in the den.

“Anything?” Stone kept his voice low.

“No. Desk’s locked.”

They’d already looked through the kitchen when they arrived. “I didn’t expect he’d keep her here. Let’s see what the others are up to.”

Harrison led the way. Stone locked the back door and placed the key next to the mat, as promised. He stuffed the surgical boots in his pocket and took off toward the back of the property. The cold air raced down his throat and nearly stole his breath. If Susan was outside in this mess, she wouldn’t last long. He estimated the temp was nearing twenty degrees.

A garden shed, the large garage, a pool house, and accompanying cabana were the only other buildings on the property.

“I’ll take the pool house. You can take the garden shed.” Harrison nodded and took off toward the back of the property.

Stone met up with the other two agents. The moonlight was enough to show neither had found her. Damn it. Desperation clawed at him. Joseph Francisco was guilty. He knew it. Only where was he keeping her?

The pool house was unlocked, lessening the chance he’d find her there. But if the purpose of the kidnapping was to lure him out in the open, Susan would be kept unharmed and used as bait. That fact kept him sane.

Maria had shut off the alarms for two hours, but did one system go for all buildings? He wished he’d thought to ask. He tried to be quiet as he searched the closets and every piece of furniture large enough to hold a person captive.

“Anything?”

Stone swiveled around, his pulse spiking. Harrison. “No.”

“Let’s regroup.”

Shit. Where had he taken her?

* * * *

Remaining still, Susan let her senses react to the surroundings. Fresh, perfumed and warm. She remembered someone picking her up from that horrible place and carrying her into a house, but she couldn’t visualize his face. One thing for sure, her hero hadn’t been Stone.

The only logical explanation was that the kidnapper had dumped her in some random shed and her banging had alerted the owner. If she was correct, why hadn’t her rescuer called 9-1-1? He had to have noticed she was naked and possibly assaulted. She hadn’t been raped, if the lack of burning between her thighs was any indication, but from the stitches on her face and her exposure to the freezing cold, he had to understand she needed help.

She guessed all that really mattered was this wonderful place. Or had she been checked out by a paramedic and declared okay without her knowledge? Is so, wouldn’t they have kept her overnight in the hospital for observation? Since she didn’t have any identification on her, the hospital would have notified the police. The FBI surely would have put some kind of alert on her disappearance too, and once Stone learned where she was, he’d come running. Her breath slowed and her stomach calmed, but only for a moment. What if there had been no medic or police to ask her questions and most importantly, no Stone? The lack of answers drove her crazy.
Just relax. You need the rest.

She wiggled her butt. A soft mattress was underneath her and lots of blankets on top. With her bonds cut, her muscles slowly gave in to the comfort. She rubbed her wrists and met bandages. Her savior must have doctored her. She shuffled her feet, but the circulation didn’t return. Despite the added comfort, cold was deeply imbedded in her pores. She doubted she’d ever get warm again.

She scanned the rather large room. Dawn was streaming in through stark white silk curtains. This might not be heaven, but she was sure the mysterious place was nearby. Two twin beds, a desk, and a comfortable seating area filled the room. Given the expensive-looking modern paintings on the walls, she wasn’t in a hotel room. So where was she?

She took one more sweep of the room, hoping there’d be a phone. No luck. Damn it. She needed to let Stone know she was safe. Crap. She didn’t even know his number. If she ever got the chance, she’d call 9-1-1 and have them patch her through to the FBI.

Pushing up on her elbows, Susan dragged her body to a sitting position. The sheet fell down, exposing her chest, and she glanced down. Someone had draped her in a men’s shirt, starched and smelling of lemons. Her fingers dashed to her hips and met soft flannel. She lifted the covers. Men’s pajama bottoms. Glory be.

Who was this man? And why hadn’t he come in to see how she was doing? The room’s light was growing stronger. Surely, he’d be in soon. Susan dragged her legs off the side of the bed. She placed her feet on the floor but couldn’t sense the thick carpet. Surely, once she warmed up, she’d get feeling back in her legs, or so she wanted to believe. Her belly soured at the thought she might lose some appendage from exposure. Using her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed her thigh and yelped at the sharp sensation. As she worked her way down her leg, the numbness increased. At least her knees had blood flow.

Stop playing doctor and check out the place.

Given the height of the trees outside the window, she was at least on the second floor. Escape out the window was not an option. But then, why escape until she’d spoken with the owner to find out his intent?

Not sure if she could stand, she held onto the metal bedpost and stood. Her knees buckled and one knee smacked the floor. Shit. Her hand loosened from the post, but she caught herself before she did a face plant. Not good.

She decided crawling was her safest option. The door wasn’t more than twelve feet away. She could make it that far.

When she made it across the room, she reached up and twisted the knob.

Locked. She didn’t like the implication but wanted to believe the worst of her ordeal was over. Too bad she didn’t have enough facts to draw a clear conclusion. Using a lot of her strength, she pounded on the door, not caring if she woke up the whole household. She needed answers.

No one came. She placed her ear to the door but heard no sounds. No clanking of coffee cups or feet stirring. Okay. She’d at least use the bathroom before waiting until the household awoke. Her knees stung, but she managed to get back across the room. Once in the bathroom, she locked the door and sat on her butt, her knees near her chest. The cold tiles did little to help her thaw, but the added layer of safety from the locked door between her and the outside world did a lot for her mental well-being.

Back up on her knees, she reached the sink’s faucet and gulped down handfuls of water.

Feet pounded down the hallway and into the bedroom. Her muscles stiffened.

Someone stood outside the bathroom and knocked. “Susan? You in there?”

Her breath caught in her throat. How did he know her name? She’d been naked and had no identification on her. Oh, shit.

* * * *

Stone’s cell roused him from a deep sleep. He patted the side table for the phone. Would Susan’s kidnapper call this early? He flipped open the phone and recognized the familiar number. “Hi, Peter. What’s up?”

“Listen, Maria and I are going out of town for a while. I’ve got to stay in the state because of the ongoing investigation, but I can’t take any chances something will happen to her.”

He didn’t need to add, like Susan.

“Good idea.”

“Just wanted you to know.”

The dial tone rang in his ear before he got a chance to respond.

His friend sure was in a hurry. Stone wet his lips and eased out of bed, his head pounding from stress and lack of deep sleep. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on the clock. It was only six thirty in the morning. Why hadn’t Peter waited until he reached wherever he was going before calling?

His muscles tensed. Was his friend being threatened? He shook his head. Nothing would make sense until he took a shower. He needed time to sort things through.

The pulsating water marginally eased the pain thudding through his body. Susan had been gone close to twenty-four hours. He wished he could steal the pain from her. She’d already been through too much.

He refused to believe she was dead.

Whoever was behind all this mess wanted him, not Susan. His mind raced too fast, and his shower lasted only three minutes, a lot shorter than his usual morning ritual. He toweled dry, changed and headed back into the bedroom where he booted up the computer, in need of more information on Joseph Francisco. Using his constantly-changing security code, he logged onto the FBI database.

He clicked on his e-mail and fifteen messages loaded. The one from Peter caught his eye. The subject read:
James
. The time was late last night. He read the contents. Then he read it out loud, hoping he’d missed something.

Stone. Got off the phone with James. I know, I’m surprised, too, that he called. When was the last time he contacted me? After our face-to-face conversation I thought he’d never speak to me again. Get this. He told me Joseph Francisco asked him to kidnap Susan. He refused and decided then and there he wanted nothing to do with any of the Franciscos, even though he was half Francisco himself.