Beauty and the Beast (36 page)

“She went to the Art Institute, got on a trolley, and now no one can locate her, and she isn’t answering her cell. If you could just ask your people to keep an eye out for her, I’d appreciate it.”

“Damn, dawg, yeah, ya know I got yo’back.”

Bruce spotted Shorewood comb his hands through his short salt and pepper hair as he exited the building. He spotted the two and approached.

“Great,” Bruce mumbled and nodded toward the detective.

“I hope you don’t think you’re getting away with this. Gamble only bought you a short reprieve.”

Marco sneered. “Don’t you have some jurisdiction red tape to untangle? We came in as upstanding citizens to help yo’non-authority havin’ ass out. You’d best step off before I sue for harassment.” Marco nodded toward Bruce. “I’ll make a few calls and get back to ya.”

“Thanks.” They shared a brotha-man hug, then they were on their way.

Dreams of Butch and Dennis tormented Nefertiti until she half woke. Her head was woozy and her vision blurred, but she could tell she was in a small room, lying on a twin bed. Sleep was quickly overtaking her, but she fought against it.

The last thing Nefertiti remembered was sharing a drink with Roy Dixon, Dennis and Butch. She shook her head slightly, and could swear her mind sloshed around.
No that’s the dream. Dennis is dead and Butch is in jail. Only Roy is real.

She’d been surprised to see Roy board the trolley after she re-boarded at the Hancock Tower. They’d talked and laughed through a few stops, then gone to lunch.
Yes, the Roy portion is real.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on sound. The tick tock of a clock echoed softly off the walls, and the local news played on the opposite side of the door. She could hear trees gently blowing in the wind, so she assumed a window was open. Chills went down her spine.
I hope Butch doesn’t climb through the window. No, no, Butch is in jail.

Disoriented, she rolled to the edge of the bed and stared at the door. “Watt’s goin’ on?” she groggily whispered. Her tongue felt so heavy, she could barely speak.
Come back to me, mind. Come back.

After a while, she finally remembered what happened after lunch. She hadn’t been feeling well. Roy’s rental was nearby, so he offered to give her a ride back to the Art Institute. Once in the car, she blacked out.

Am I here with Roy?
She frowned and even her eyebrows felt heavy.
Where is here?

She coerced her lead-weighted arms and legs not to give out on her as she crawled across the wood floor to the window and pulled herself up along the wall. Over the tree line, she saw clouds pass over the moon. She listened closely and heard a stream. She scanned the area on the other side of the barred window. This is familiar. Dizzy, she returned to the bed before she fell.

This is one of the cabins on Bruce’s property.
Thoughts jumbled, she lay back.

“Boose,” she called weakly. “Boose.”

The door creaked open. “Hello, Tee.”

“Woy,” she slurred through her shock. “Why ahm here? Where’s Boose?”

“I need you to drink this.” He set a glass on the nightstand and helped her sit up.

Her mind was more sluggish than jumbled, but her faculties were quickly returning. She could clearly see he wore latex gloves, and he had a wild anxiety in his eyes. “Ahm not thirsty. Ahm tired.” She half-closed her eyes and pretended the drugs he’d obviously given her were still in full effect. “Butch is in the jungle,” she said to confuse him. “You stay here with me ’til Boose comes.”

He mouthed a curse and set the glass on the nightstand. “Tee.” He shook her. “Don’t go to sleep. You need to drink this so your stomach won’t hurt. Remember your stomach was hurting you? This will make you feel better.”

“Tell Boose that Butch is in the jungle, so he can come save us. Don’t go in the jungle, Woy.” She had no idea why Roy was trying to harm her, and at the moment, she didn’t care. She did know she had to get help. Her body still felt heavy, but her mind was working quadruple time.

 
He chewed on his inner jaw for a few moments and nervously rubbed his hands on his lap. “I’ll protect you from Butch, but you need to drink this first.”

“No! He’ll hurt you.” She traced her facial scars with the tips of her fingers. “He’s afraid of Boose. Call Boose.”

Damn, she’s too out of it!

Roy drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. He’d been trying to figure out how to separate Tee from Bruce for days so he could punish them for stealing his inheritance and, most importantly, for ruining his relationship with Catherine. He’d followed the group to the Art Institute and bided his time. When she took a trolley ride, he’d known that was his chance.

She rolled over on the bed and said something else about Butch in the jungle. He glanced at his watch. He had only two hours before he had to be at the airport, but he couldn’t leave her like this. This was one plan he had no choice but to follow through on.

“Tee, I’ll call Bruce if you drink this for me. I don’t want you getting sick again.” He held the glass of arsenic-laced apple juice out to her.

“You call Boose?”

“After your medication.”

She groaned, and her eyes rolled back into her head. “Okay, ah’ll drink after you call Boose.”

You definitely need to say no to drugs.
Instead of going in circles with her, he decided a call to Bruce might help his cause. If she talked half as crazy to Bruce, her suicide by way of poisoning would look more authentic.

He smiled. After speaking with several guests at the party, he’d learned that Nathan Townes had just been released from a private institution. Though everyone insisted he wasn’t crazy, Roy knew different. Only crazy people were committed, and insanity ran in families. Bruce would suffer the remainder of his days once the love of his life committed suicide, and the authorities would think she was just as crazy as her father.
 

 
He rushed over to the window. “Oh no. It’s Butch!”

She covered her head with the blanket. “Ah tol’ you,” she slurred, “he’s in the jungle.” She inhaled deeply. “Get… away from window.”

His grin increased as he returned to her side. “You’re right. We should call Bruce. But you can’t tell him I’m here.”

She pulled up the blanket and peeked over the rim. “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t like me,” he said innocently. “He won’t come if he knows I’m here.”

The way she stared at him made him think he’d gone overboard.

“Ah tol’ him ta stop being mean ta people,” she mumbled. “Don’t worry, ah won’t let him hurt you.”

“Then you won’t tell him I’m here.”

“’Course not.” She closed her eyes. “Ahm tired.”

“First we make this call, then you promise to drink the medicine to keep your stomach from hurting.”

“Butch is in the jungle.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed to block his number, then dialed Bruce’s number. “Remember, you can’t say I’m with you. Only tell him about Butch.”

Bruce checked his cell phone for the umpteenth time to ensure it was still charged. As with the other times, it was fully charged. He paced about his room. Victoria and May had taken Nathan out to stall until Nefertiti was found. He yanked his shirtsleeve up and looked at his watch. It was nearing ten and still no word. Marco’s men had come up with nothing. Silas had called in a few favors, yet still no leads.

Visions of Nefertiti when she first entered the hospital emergency room after the attack filled his mind. Mr. Wilson had called Victoria to inform them what had happened. Bruce didn’t usually answer the house phone, but on this particular occasion, he had been home alone and was drawn to answer.

As on that night, he knelt.
Please, God, save my beauty. Help me find her.

The sound of his cell phone startled him. The caller ID said unknown. He never answered “Unknown” or “Private,” but, as on the night of her attack, a force he believed was God told him to answer.

“Hello.”

“Boose…”

She sounded drunk, but he didn’t care. He was overjoyed to hear anything. His already accelerated heart rate raced at warp speed. “Nefertiti! Baby, where are you?”

“Wait… Wait… Lemme talk. Come to the jungle and make love to me in the hut,” she said slowly. “Butch is in the jungle. Ah need water ninja.”

She made absolutely no sense until she mentioned water ninja. No matter how drunk she might be, he knew there was no way she’d mix up her being the water ninja and him being the fire ninja.

“I love you, baby.”

“Come make love to me in the hut in the jungle.” She disconnected.

“Shit!” He lay flat on the floor and thought. She’d obviously been speaking in code, but he was so upset, he wasn’t sure he could decipher what she meant.
Making love in the jungle.
He stared at the ceiling.
Making love in the jungle. In a hut.