The Heart Has Reasons (11 page)

As
the full import of this statement struck her, she sputtered, “You said you
never met the person who hired you.  In that case, how could you know it
isn’t Sparrow?  You freaking
lied
to me.”

A
weary sigh came from beyond the curtain.  “It just seemed simpler that
way.”

“What
else are you lying about?”

“Nothing,
I swear.”

Furious,
she struggled to untie the hobble.  As if he’d somehow read her mind, his
hand appeared under the curtain and she jerked her own away just in time.

He
fingered the knots and, satisfied they were still intact, wrapped his hand
around her foot.  “I truly am sorry for lying.”

“Prove
it then.  Tell me where you’re taking me.”

“I
can’t do that.”  She angrily shoved his hand from her foot and, after a
moment’s hesitation, it disappeared back under the curtain.  “Your story
was interesting and I’ll admit I’m almost tempted to believe it.  But
let’s be honest here.  Now that we’ve established that I’m not delivering
you to the ‘maintenance man’, you must know where I’m taking you.  Who
else would have an interest in you?”

“No
one.”

“Now
who’s lying?”

“I’m
not lying!” she shouted.  “You’re such an asshole.”

“Do
you want to wear the gag?”

“If
you’re so sorry, prove it.  Give me a sleeping pill.”

“Not
until tonight.”

Once
again relieved by his refusal, she stretched out toward the back doors,
cradling her head on her folded arms.  His story didn’t make any sense at
all.  If Brian Sparrow wasn’t behind her kidnapping, then who was?

No,
it had to be Sparrow.  He was still lying.

He
reached back again to check the knots and, satisfied she’d not tampered with
them, once again clasped a hand about her foot.  With the other, she
angrily kicked it away.  “Are you going to pout the rest of the
day?”  She refused to respond.  He tried several more times to engage
her in conversation, before finally giving up.

A
fragile illusion of indestructability served most people as a defense against
the inconceivable idea of their own mortality.  Unfortunately, ever since
the deaths of her parents, Larissa herself had not enjoyed the benefit of that
comfort.  She knew that she too would die young, just as they had.

The
panic attacks had begun shortly after her father’s funeral.  While in the
orphanage, a physician had treated her attacks with little white pills.
 The pills lessened the intensity of the attacks, but didn’t stop
them.  Plus, they made her lethargic.  Once she’d left the home, she
read that yoga could help, and so she started taking classes.  The yoga
helped much better than the pills had, and later, the karate classes had helped
even more.  Perhaps it was the feeling of strength, of being able to defend
herself.  Ha, what an illusion that had proved to be.

But
now, worse than the knowledge of her impending death was the thought of what
Sparrow would do to her
before
he killed her.  As panic bubbled up
inside her, her heart clenched into a fist and punched up into her throat,
beating there with such force that she couldn’t swallow.  She broke out
into a sweat, then wrapped her arms about herself as she started trembling.

When
the wheezing started, she immediately sat up in an attempt to ease it.  It
steadily worsened, until she was struggling to breathe.  Determined not to
speak to the asshole in the front seat, she said nothing.

After
what seemed nearly an hour, but was probably only five or ten minutes, he
asked, “Are you wheezing again?”

Pouring
sweat and shivering, she stubbornly remained silent.

“Larissa! 
Answer me!”  After another moment’s silence, he exclaimed, “
Fuck
!”
and swerved to the right.  Braking hard, he brought the vehicle to a stop
in a rattling of fine gravel, then yanked the curtain aside and pitched the
inhaler into the back.

It
landed beside her.  Gasping for breath, she stared at it.  If she
refused to use it, would he take her to a hospital?  Probably not. 
Since any wrestling match would end with him as the victor, resistance would be
futile as well as foolish.  She angrily snatched it and sucked the mist
into her lungs. 

“Are
you crazy?” he shouted.  “Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

Taking
a second hit off the inhaler, she wrapped her arms around her bent legs and
cradled her head on her knees, fighting back tears.  She would not let the
bastard see her cry again. She tried to convince herself she was brave and
resourceful and would somehow find a way out of this terrifying predicament,
but the assurance rang hollow.

Finally,
the tight band gripping her chest seemed to ease and the wheezing gradually
lessened until she could breathe freely again.

“Larissa,
please stop worrying so much.  Everything will be all right.”

Knowing
he was trying to lull her into a false sense of security, she ignored him.

CHAPTER
9

Brendon Bishop was only slightly
concerned when Larissa failed to show up at the salon at nine, thinking that
she must have overslept and was simply running late.  Since he normally
kept his mornings free from appointments, he was able to take care of her first
two clients.

When
she’d not arrived by ten, he began calling her.

At
twelve, he left the salon and headed to her house.

Although
her car sat at the curb, there was no answer when he pounded on the locked
door.  With a steadily growing sense of dread, he trudged next door to
Yumiko’s to ask if she’d seen Larissa.  She hadn’t.

“She
didn’t show up for work, and she’s not answering her phone.  It’s not like
her and I’m worried.  I know she gave you a spare key for emergencies.”

The
diminutive woman peered up at him with frightened eyes.  “You really think
something wrong?”

“Unfortunately,
I do.”

Several
minutes later, Brendon unlocked the front door and shouted, “Larissa!” 
Dreading what he might find, he stepped inside, Yumiko following close
behind.  “
Larissa!
” he shouted again.  In the living room, the
glow emanating from the aquarium barely relieved the gloom.

Together
they searched the house, opening curtains as they went.  The house was
immaculate as always and nothing appeared to be missing, but there was no sign
of Larissa.  The fish rushed to the front of the tank at his approach, so
he sprinkled in a pinch of flakes.

Worry
etched deep lines in Yumiko’s face.  “We need call police.”

“That’s
exactly was I was thinking.”  He whipped his cell phone out of his pocket
and speed-dialed the salon.  Sherry answered on the fourth ring. 
“Has Larissa shown up yet?”

“No,
and she ain’t called, neither.”

“Shit.”

“Are
you at her house?”

“Her
neighbor let me in.  There’s no sign of her.”

“Is
her car there?”

“Yes.”

“You
oughta call the police.”

“I’m
doing that now.  Call me
immediately
if you hear from her.” 
He hit END without waiting for a response, then hit the speed-dial number for
the Charleston PD.

Twenty
interminable minutes later, one uniformed officer arrived.  Brendon
quickly explained the situation and, at the officer’s request, gave him a tour
of the house.  They finished in the kitchen where Yumiko stood off to the
side, looking frightened.  He frowned at the glass pitcher and wineglass
standing upside down on the dish drainer beside the sink.  It was unlike
Larissa not to have dried them and put them away.

The
officer eyed him curiously.  “She your girlfriend?”

“Friend. 
She works at my salon.”

“Maybe
she’s shacked up somewhere with a boyfriend.”

“Larissa
doesn’t have a boyfriend, and she also doesn’t ‘shack up’.”

The
officer raised his hands placatingly.  “I meant no offence.  I’m just
saying that maybe she has a new man that you’re unaware of.”

“There
is no ‘new man’.”

“How
can you be so sure?”

“She
tells me everything.  If she’d met a new man, I’d know.”  His voice
rose in frustration.  “And in any case, if she weren’t coming to work she
would have called!”

“Sir,
please stay calm.  Where’s her purse?”

Brendon
blinked at the sudden change of topic.  “Her purse?” he parroted, looking
around the kitchen as if expecting to see it laying somewhere.  “I don’t
know.”

They
made another tour of the house.  Unable to locate it, the officer said,
“Women always take their purses with them.  Maybe there was a family
emergency.  Someone picked her up and, in all the ensuing turmoil, she
simply forgot to call.”

Yumiko
spoke up for the first time.  “Larissa no have family.  She all
alone.”

“I
assume y’all’ve tried her cell.”

“Only
about a thousand times.  It goes straight to voice mail.”

“I
meant since y’all been here in the house.”

Well,
shit.  Brendon whipped out his own phone and speed-dialed Larissa’s
number.  A moment later, her distinctive, albeit muffled, ringtone sounded
from right there in the kitchen.  They tracked it to a drawer next to the
sink, where Larissa’s phone lay under a stack of neatly folded dishtowels. 
More troubling were the two guns lying next to it.  The ringing stopped
abruptly as he disconnected and turned to the officer.  “Larissa might
inadvertently leave home without her phone, but she
never
forgets her
gun.”

“She
got a concealed-carry permit?”

“Of
course she does.  She’s not the sort to break the law.”

“Glad
to hear it.”  The officer adjusted the wide leather duty belt, weighted
down with holstered sidearm, extra ammo, several pairs of handcuffs, pepper
spray, and collapsible steel baton.  “I understand that y’all are worried,
but failing to show up for work doesn’t automatically make her a missing
person.  At this point, there’s nothing we can do ‘cause she’s not
considered at risk.”

Brendon
struggled to keep his temper in check.  “What exactly qualifies as ‘at
risk’?”

“That
would be someone under fourteen, mentally handicapped, or a possible crime
victim.”

“She’s
been having problems with an ex-boyfriend.  He’s sort of been stalking
her.”

“What
does ‘sort of’ mean?”

“She’s
repeatedly told him she wants nothing more to do with him, but he keeps calling
and coming around.”

“Has
he ever assaulted her?”  Brendon shook his head.  “Has she filed an
E.P.O. against him?”

“She
was considering doing so.”

Yumiko
said to Brendon.  “Tell him about man Larissa shoot.”

“Oh,
shit!
  I almost forgot about Sparrow.”

Brendon
related the entire story of Brian Sparrow to the officer, including the murder
of the doctor.  “And for the past two years, Larissa’s been terrified that
he’d return to finish what he started.  That’s why she carries the gun.”

The
officer nodded thoughtfully.  “I remember that incident very well.” 
He squared his shoulders, a new look of determination in his eyes.  “This
sheds a different light on things.  We’ll look into it.”

Brendon
provided him with Steve’s name and the address of his dojo.  Until now
he’d feared that the karate instructor had orchestrated Larissa’s disappearance
but, with Sparrow added to the equation, he almost hoped it was Steve.  Of
the two, the karate instructor was definitely the lesser evil.

After
the officer departed, Brendon turned to a pale Yumiko, who looked as frightened
as he felt.  Suddenly concerned for her well-being, he placed a comforting
hand on her shoulder.  “We’re probably over-reacting.  Maybe Larissa
really
did
meet a new man.”

Yumiko
shook her head.  “I don’t think so.  Something wrong.”

Something
was
very
wrong.

CHAPTER
10

Chase drove through Alabama, and then
Mississippi.  He kept a close eye on the speedometer so that his speed
never exceeded five miles over the limit, while worry for Larissa occupied his
mind.  Damn Keswick for forgetting to mention his wife’s asthma.  Or,
maybe he hadn’t forgotten.  Maybe he’d deliberately neglected to mention
it, correctly suspecting that he would’ve refused the job, regardless of the
money.

Not
only did his brave little captive’s anger inexplicably disturb him, he felt a
sense of guilt over his actions, so much so that he was tempted to confess that
he was delivering her to her husband.  But the fact that she
must
have figured out by now where he was taking her, combined with the
forty-thousand he’d forfeit, held him back.