SEIZED Part 2: Steamy Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) (9 page)

Ryan sees me start go inwards and asks for the check. “Dinner’s on me tonight—let me know if you need anything else.”

He leaves me at the table and I stand up to thank him. He’s breaking protocol, not handing in evidence likes this. That’s nothing to be sniffed at.

“Nah, I’ll get it,” I say, but he’s adamant.

“You need a break, with what you’re going through. Just work out your shit with this Carrie woman who you think was the one. Call me and let me know how it goes tomorrow.”

I nod and thank him before sitting back down and pulling out my phone. I need to take a breath and work out what to do. There’s a new message in my inbox, and as I wait for it to load, I think about Carrie. The truth is I haven’t stopped thinking about her.

I open it and it’s from Walker, the head tech at the department. She clearly doesn’t know Ryan was just here or she would have sent him with the news. That photograph of Carrie and April dancing. It was taken from Jessup Lee’s phone. The night they were at Caliber, he was there too. Watching them. Taking photos that no uncle should be taking of their niece. This stinks like a carcass. I need to tell Carrie now!

I head downstairs to reception and ask to speak to the manager.

“She’s gone home. Sorry sir,” says the girl on the desk.

“Ok well I need you to put me through to Carrie James’ room please?”

“I’m sorry sir, Miss James went out some time ago.”

“She what?”

“Ah, yes sir. She took a taxi down a few blocks to Times Square.”

I’m incredulous and the girl looks a little confused about why.

“I’m sorry sir, did you have a meeting booked? Maybe there’s been some miscommunication?”

I pull out my badge. “Miss James is an important witness is an open case, I left instructions for the manager to notify me if she left the building.”

The realization hits her. “Uh, I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t receive that message, but I can tell you the cab company we use…”

She looks close to tears and that softens my anger enough to keep in check. The receptionist writes down the details and apologizes again.

“Please ask the manager to call me when she gets in.”

I’m betting she won’t sleep well tonight, so I say nothing more. I dial the cab company from the valet desk and as I’m waiting, I’m putting put money on where Carrie James has gone. I need to make sure before I mount a full scale search, but I’m positive. This could be an opportunity for me to prove once and for all whose side she’s on before I get any deeper.

They patch a message through to the driver who names Carrie’s drop off point as the street that Caliber is on. She arrived there just as the club was opening, so she’s either still inside or on her way back here with new information. I can’t believe she would do something so stupid. If only she’d just trust me, I could help her.

Something else comes to me. The photograph from Jessup’s phone was of both April and Carrie. Now I have no idea if it wasn’t just April that was supposed to be taken.
Was Carrie more than just an unlucky bystander to them
? I’m running before I answer that question, and with keys in hand. I’m downstairs and wrestling with the car door before I can think too much further.

All this time I’ve been worrying about protecting a witness. My mind has been so focused on Jessup Lee, I could have missed the possibility that Carrie could be in just as much danger as April. I floor the gas and the wheels shriek on the concrete of the parking lot, taking the corners and stop lights like a mad man.

If I’m right, then Carrie has just walked in to a potential replay of the kidnapping. Even if Jessup isn’t at the club tonight, whoever took April will be watching the place. Right now, the adorable Carrie James is like a harmless little fly, buzzing around trying to sniff out information, but about to get trapped in an incredibly sticky web.

Carrie

“Evening, miss.”

I don’t think I recognize the bouncer from the other night, but I was a little wasted by the time we got here. He doesn’t seem to know who I am, so that’s a relief. I don’t want to be recognized as the one who was attacked and nearly kidnapped. I’ve never wanted to be a victim.

That’s why I kept so many secrets back in high school. You never get over it when people stereotype you. The feeling of it, the role you take on, it stays with you for life—even if you don’t feel like a victim, people change and treat you differently. They get all careful and nervous around you. I’ve seen it happen before.

I try not to think about the past. Now I’m worried about the bruising on my neck. It’s covered up with makeup now, but even the thought of his grip on me makes me want to heave. It’s best to just waltz on in, as if nothing has happened.

I head over to the bar. The same gorgeous barman is on. I smile but don’t engage. I don’t need the distraction. I take a seat and order a white wine. It’s still early. There are a few people at the bar, and a few groups in the booths, but no one dancing yet. The music is mellow tonight, and the lighting is different from it was the other night.

Monday nights must be a more stylish affair at Caliber. The waiters are out on the floor, shipping martini glasses on trays to men in suits, rather than cleaning up after wasted youth. I like it. I sip my drink and think of the best way to approach Jessup. I could easily strike up a chat with the barman. He looks anxious to earn tips, but I need someone more senior.

Eventually the manager will make his or her way out to check on things. I just need to keep watch. The music is infectious. It’s more funky soul than house. It has my shoulders moving as I sit on my stool. I can’t help it, my body just starts to move. It’s always been that way around good music.

One of the guys down the bar looks over. I figure I might as well talk to him in the meantime, so I smile encouragingly. He makes his way down the long counter top and offers to buy me a drink.

“I’ve got one thanks,” I say, and he doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he says.

I don’t mind. I’d rather not be sitting her alone, so I nod and he sits on the stool to my left.

He orders himself a scotch on the rocks. I start the conversation.

“Had a good day?” He’s wearing a suit. I figure he’s here for after work drinks.

“Not so good,” he says.

I’m about to ask him why, but it seems he’s set to tell me exactly what’s happened whether I ask or not. At least I’m not looking weird sitting here alone. I start nodding and making disapproving faces as he details his terrible Monday. I’m far from present to the conversation. My eyes are scanning the length of the bar and the nightclub, waiting for the manager to appear so I can find out if Jessup is here.

The suit is relaying back one of the conversations of his day to me when I feel a tap on my shoulder. This must be his friend.
Oh joy, another finance nerd to entertain me
. But it’s not. I turn around and see the hand on my shoulder belongs to the bouncer from upstairs.

“Excuse me miss, sorry to bother you. The owner would like to speak to you.”

Well, well
, I think. It looks like they
have
recognized me. I wonder what this is going to be about, but I tell him I’ll just be a minute. I take a final swallow of wine and place some money on the counter for the bill. My new financial friend slides it back at me.

“Drink’s on me tonight, Carrie.”

I decide to let him and say thanks. I nod my approval and wave to the bartender before I turn and follow the bouncer waiting behind me. He takes me out a back door, into a well-lit corridor. He knocks on the first door on our right. It opens immediately and I recognize Jessup Lee from the funeral.

“Carrie, hi come in!”

He’s super friendly and I’m taken aback. After everything Blake has been telling me, I expect him to be some cold, Russian type of gangster, with an accent that makes everything sound dangerous. He’s nothing like that at all, and for a moment, I feel like I’m doing the right thing.

“Hi Mr. Lee. April’s told me so much about you. Thanks for seeing me.”

He smiles and ushers me inside, “Please, take a seat. I know how close you two are, so I had to say hello when I saw you back to the club. Where is April this evening?”

I sit down and say, “Oh you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Actually, that’s why I’ve come, we were on our way home the other night and I’m sorry to tell you, she was taken.”

He frowns. “Taken?”

I feel bad, I can’t believe he doesn’t know yet. The Police should have told him by now.

“Um, yes. We were catching a taxi and some guys pulled up, attacked us, and they took her.”

I watch his face carefully. I can’t tell if his reaction is genuine or not.

“You’re telling me this happened on Saturday night? It’s Monday—why wasn’t I told?”

He looks confused. He’s not angry so I continue.

“I don’t know, Mr. Lee. I was a witness and I made it to the police station, but I don’t know if April is their main priority.”

I tread lightly around the issue of accusations against him. I don’t want to outright accuse him, because I don’t know the facts. Still, I need to say something about the plan I think the cops are hatching.

“Not a priority?” He says and holds his palms up. “How can that be?”

He sits down heavily and runs his hands through his hair. If he’s acting, he’s doing a damn good job.

“Sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but it seems some of your business associates are not so well regarded.”

Something different comes over his face then. “What do you mean Carrie?”

I’m just going to tell him. “I know the lead Detective. We went to school together. He seems to think this is someone trying to get revenge on you by taking her.”

He looks thoughtful and strokes his chin. His pose is a little bit contrived, and I start to get a sense he’s not being honest. When he says, “I have no idea what they could be talking about,” in a voice that sounds so fake, now I think he’s playing with me.

“I don’t know much more than that. I wanted to come and talk to you to see if you can help. Now you know. And they may be waiting for you to launch some kind of attack on the people who took her. I think she’s being used as bait, Mr. Lee.”

My voice breaks a little as I say it. His eyes don’t soften in the way Blake’s do when I’m upset. He just looks at me steadily.

“This theory would make sense if I had any enemies. But I don’t—not one that I can think of.”

This must be an outright lie. Everyone has enemies.

“What about Caliber’s competition? Surely this business must be pretty cutthroat. Couldn’t it be suppliers looking to get a foothold, owners trying to increase the rents, something like that?”

He looks at me like I’m a child. It’s kind of annoying.

“Carrie, Carrie, that’s the kind of thing you see in movies and fiction. I run a tight ship here. I own the building. There’s no reason for any of my associates to want to hurt me. I pay my workers fairly too. And even the competition respects what we do. We don’t play dirty. How are you coming to these conclusions?”

Right then I don’t believe a word he says. I’m reminded that April doesn’t like this man at all.

“So can you do
anything
to help?” I ask him and the look in his eyes doesn’t seem at all reassuring.

“Carrie thank you for telling me. I’m going to be making a complaint that I wasn’t notified earlier. The police have dropped the ball here. If April is in trouble, she knows she can call me. Whatever is happening here will sort itself out. I’m sure of it.”

His voice is cheery. I can’t believe it. I just told the guy his niece has been kidnapped, and he’s talking to me like I told him she’s on a walk through Central Park. Anger rushes up inside me.

“So you can’t do anything?”

I look him directly in the eye but he doesn’t flinch at all.

“Carrie, what I can do is get you back to Iowa where you belong. Please, let me put you on a plane today. It’s about time you get out of this awful city and let the police do their job.”

I don’t know what to say, except, “No thanks. I’ll be sticking around until we find her.”

He looks up at me. “We? So you’re assisting the police in the investigation? Why are you talking to the one person they suspect of wrongdoing, if that’s the case? What’s going on here, Carrie? I thought you and April were close friends?”

He’s got a point, I must seem confused. “I wanted to make sure you knew, and now you do. Thanks for your time. I’m really sorry to interrupt your night.”

My tone is conciliatory. This is a dead end. If he does have information he’s clearly not going to share it with me. There’s a knock on the door and Jessup calls the person in.

“Boss, there’s a fight between two suits. I think you’d better come. The manager is busy upstairs, and this fight is a dispute over the bill.”

Jessup leaps up. He’s clearly finished with me, so I get up too.

“No Carrie, I have more to tell you. Do me a favor and wait here will you? I’ll be back in a second.”

Hmm
, I think. Okay. Maybe he’s not finished. There’s no harm in waiting, after I’ve come all the way here.

“Uhh, sure.”

I sit back down as he follows the security guard out of the room and closes the door behind them. I’m alone now. I look around. It seems like a pretty standard type of office. A couple of desks, two computers. The walls are covered with posters advertising the gigs that have been on in the last year. Caliber is a mixture of classy and funky depending on the night. It must be a successful little business for Jessup. There are headline acts from some pretty big DJ’s on those posters.

The desk I’m sitting beside is scattered with a few different things, and I see the drawer is part way open. This is a bad idea, but I’m here now, so I might as well have a look. Inside it, there’s a tray with some coins and a few paper clipped documents. I lift them up and underneath are Jessup’s phone and wallet. The wallet is black leather, stacked with hundreds. I’m more interested in the conversations he’s been having, so I swipe open the phone and take a look at his text messages.

It looks like a few messages are between him and his wife, there are also alcohol order messages and reminder notes that his staff his sent him. He must have an assistant, because there are messages from someone named Kelly asking him about appointment times. There’s nothing at all suspicious. I laugh to myself. Maybe he’s telling the truth, and I am on some mission to investigate for nothing.

It’s disappointing, and I find the same situation in his email box. There are receipts and invoices from suppliers, a message from his gym and nothing else of interest. He doesn’t seem like a pimp or drug dealer at all. Blake could very well be living in a total fantasy that I’ve been needlessly drawn into.

I click into the photo stream, I wonder what his kids look like, but instead of the expected family photos, I see the picture of April and I dancing.
Holy shit
.
He
took that picture of us! He must have been the one who sent it to April.
Holy hell
. If that was him—that means he was here on Saturday night.
Why didn’t he come say hello? Because he was probably up to no good.

I sit back in my chair and look up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what it all means. There’s nothing criminal about taking a photo. It’s a little weird coming from a relative, but it’s not a crime or inappropriate. What
is
weird is that he hid from us that night, but still sent April the photo. I remember when she said she wasn’t feeling well. I bet it was right when she received this photo that she decided she wanted to go home.

This doesn’t add up. There’s something more he’s not saying. Even if by some strange chance it wasn’t him who took the picture, he had to have known about it. It’s in his phone. No one else would have had his phone. I’m not sure what to think. I’m sure there could be an explanation for this, but my gut was already telling me he’s lying about something. His demeanor is so friendly—too friendly. It’s fake.

I hate when people patronize me or talk down to me the way he did. I’m not stupid. And a whole task force of the New York City police department can’t all be wrong. I have another look around the office and pick up his wallet. Business cards for Caliber, and one as a shareholder in Blue Star office products. A few photos and of course, the money I saw before. There’s nothing of interest. I need to ask him about the picture, and see what happens. That’s it. I’m going out to the bar to wait.

I put everything back in the drawer as it was, and go to open the door to the club’s back hallway. It’s locked.
What
? I’m locked in the office of Jessup’s night club after telling him his rivals took his niece and it’s his fault. This is bad. This really is starting to feel like I’m in the middle of a B-rated gangster movie.
Oh my God, I wonder if I’m going to get my fingers chopped off?