Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) (26 page)

But then she turned in his direction. The terror etched on her face caused him to stumble. Her eyes— wide and vacant— as though she'd seen something unspeakable. Jeff was suddenly overcome by a sense of anguished desperation— as though he'd stepped into a force field of agony. Then Mari's eyes finally focused— locking on him as he closed the distance between them— as he ran to reach her. And Jeff knew. It was something awful.
Hector.
 

"What is it? What's happened?" Jeff wrestled through the gathering crowd. Onlookers asking questions. Damn them— couldn't they step back? Just get the hell out of the way? He heard the word 'kidnap' from one of the shopkeepers milling around on the sidewalk.

Mari was in shock when he reached her. Her eyes huge and starkly blue in her deathly pale face. Shaking with fear. "What happened? Mari? Honey— tell me what's happened."

"Hector," she whispered. "He's g-gone. Gladys— she . . . let him off t-two stops back."

"Why the hell would she-"

Her shoulders shaking, Mari began sobbing. "There was s-someone waiting for him— she h-had a wig on. And sunglasses."

Cursing, Jeff pulled her into his arms. He wanted desperately to shout, to swear, to hit something. To rail at the gods for allowing something like this to happen. "Luz. It was Luz."

She nodded against his chest, still quaking violently. "Gladys said Hector s-stopped. On the bottom step. As though— he knew . . . he knew it wasn't r-right. But she was distracted. And she sh— shooed him off the bus so she could stay on schedule."

Tightening his hold on her, he rested his head on top of hers, as though by doing so, he might be able to absorb some of her violent tremors into his own body. "Did she see anything else?"

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Mari released it slowly, the effort to calm herself probably the only thing keeping her from completely breaking down. "As she pulled away, Gladys started thinking it was odd for him to be picked up in the wrong place. She watched them in the rearview mirror."

"Did she see anything helpful— a car? Another person? Where the hell is this other bus stop?" One arm still wrapped around her, Jeff tugged out his phone. He needed his brother-in-law. He needed access to information. Charlie could relay details he wouldn't be able to get from the local cops.

"She saw Luz tug him across the street. Gladys says she realizes now that Hector was fighting her, but in the mirror, it just looked like she was in a hurry. She said Luz got into a car parked at the corner."

"What color? What make? Model? Anything? Does she have
anything
that can help us?" His voice hoarse with anger, the desire to shout was growing stronger. But if there was ever a time for Jeff to not lose it—that time was now. He had to stay focused and calm. He had to keep his brain functioning instead of seizing up in terror.

"Only that it was dark blue. And old. Rusted. A car— not a truck." Her eyes distracted, Marisol tried to remember. "And there was at least one hubcap missing on the driver's side."

A cop was approaching them. Jeff saw him separate from a huddle, heading in their direction. Nodding to him, he released Marisol. "Honey— I think they need to talk to you."

Disoriented, Mari lifted her head from his chest. "Okay— will . . . will you wait for me? W-will you still be here?"

His heart aching for her— for them . . . he slowly nodded. "I'll be right here."

***

Several phone calls later, a beehive of activity had begun at New Beginnings. Jeff had called everyone he could think of to help them. Though it was clearly a matter for the police— and the feds, as of forty-five minutes earlier— Jeff knew he couldn't just sit around and wait for something to happen. Whether his actions would be helpful or not— he had to
do
something. Anything. Or he'd go crazy.

Two hours had ticked by since Hector disappeared. Two hours. He could be anywhere. Luz could be driving somewhere— far away. Jeff swallowed around the lump that had stuck in his throat, his jaw working to dislodge the terror. She could have holed up somewhere. Somewhere terrible. Disgusting. Dangerous. Or she could have done the unthinkable. Though his brain wanted to tumble there— to the terrible, dark place without any hope— he couldn't allow it. Thinking that way would paralyze him.

Hank and Big Pete were mobilizing a group of volunteers. Sharon had contacted Marisol's family. They'd piled into cars and were on their way from Baltimore. After contacting Charlie, who had already heard about the kidnapping internally, Jeff had called his brother. In turn, Jake had called Harry and they'd shut the office down. Through the field grapevine, several superintendents from other Specialty project sites had shut down their projects and were now gathering in the shelter's parking lot, taking direction from Hank. Big Pete had mobilized a motley crew of concrete, drywall and framing subcontractors who were eager to help if they could.

If he hadn't been numb— with fear and despair, Jeff would have smiled over the unity his family had shown— both his work family and his real one. He watched Jake's wife Jenna as she arrived to join his parents. Together, they were helping Marisol hold it together until her parents could arrive. Harry's wife Kendall had driven to Jake's house to babysit all the kids.

"Jeff— can you come here a sec?" Hank's gravelly voice broke into his thoughts. "We think we might have something promising."

Hope flared through him like an electrical current. Anything. Anything would be better than just sitting here. "What is it?"

Scratching his head as they headed for the parking lot, Hank gave it to him straight. "Could be nothin'. Could be a wild goose chase. But Pete thinks he's found a connection."

"Pete?
Pete
thinks he's found something?" His hope dissolving in frustration, Jeff tried not to be discouraged. "God, Hank— he sees conspiracies in every delivery truck."

Jerking his arm, Hank stopped him as they approached the parking lot. "I
said
it could be a wild goose chase, son." The older man stared at him hard— staring right through him. "Now— get yourself together. You're not helping anyone with that attitude. We've got a lot of people here who are willing to traipse into the nastiest areas of this city to look for your boy. So, you need to snap out of it."

Dragging in a tortured breath, Jeff nodded. He'd needed a headslap to clear it— and Hank had just delivered. Big time. "You're right, man. I'm sorry. I'm— I'm a little crazy right now."

"You're actually not much worse than your usual crazy."

Forcing a smile he didn't feel, Jeff knew he would have to go through the motions until they uncovered more information. It would be the only thing to keep him sane. "What does Pete think he's discovered?"

"Okay— so here it is. Pete has been keeping a diary since the start of construction."

"His notebook? Yeah . . . I know." Distracted, he wondered where this was leading.

"Well, I never knew about it until he managed to track me down last week when I went after Phil."

"He keeps track of . . . everything. Cars. Delivery trucks." He thought of Marisol's brother tailing her. Pete's dire warning months earlier about the red truck . . . that had turned out to be Manny.

"Exactly. Among other things, he keeps lists of every car— within a two block radius of the shelter. And he updates the damn thing hourly. That's how he traced Phil's car— through the plate number."

"He— he tracks plate numbers?" A cold chill swept through him. "So— if Luz has been watching this place . . . watching Hector's schedule . . . then she might be in his notebook."

"Might," Hank emphasized. "If she was driving, or— even if she had someone driving her around," he confirmed.

"God— he keeps plate numbers." Lightheaded over the possibility of a lead— even a slim lead, Jeff quickened his pace. "A blue car— dark blue . . . sounded roughed up from the bus driver's description."

Patting his shoulder as they approached the crowd in the parking lot, Hank pushed him forward to where Big Pete stood. "Pete— tell him what you got."

Chapter 12

"Here, Sugar. Drink this."

A cup of something hot was shoved into Marisol's hands. Like an automaton, she raised it to her lips— needing both hands to get the cup to her mouth. She couldn't stop shaking. The violent tremors had taken over her limbs the moment she'd heard that Hector was missing. And now they'd taken up residence.

"Marisol— sweetie, your parents are coming." Sharon's sturdy cocoa hands grabbed hers, rubbing them as she spoke. As though she had the power to transfer her warmth into Mari's icy, lifeless body. "They should be here in the next half hour."

Mari nodded, because she knew it was what she was supposed to do. Acknowledge people. Acknowledge kindness. But the fact was, she wasn't even there anymore. It was as though she were outside her body— watching everyone fluttering around the crushed, broken shell of a woman. The other Marisol was hunched over in a chair— her face aged at least ten years— her eyes wide and vacant as they stared at the blank wall. Was this it, then? Was this her breakdown?

The ghost Marisol wanted to drift away from the crowd. From the noise. From the terror she was experiencing. She wanted to be invisible— so no one would be staring at her, talking about her in hushed tones— about her loss. About her trauma. So no one would bear witness to this unspeakable pain.

Even in this otherworldly state, Mari was capable of bargaining. With God. With anyone who could bring Hector back to her. She would take a beating— worse than anything Nick had inflicted. Was she being punished for being so happy? Had she grown arrogant in her life? She would give up her happiness. Would that be enough? Her wonderful little boy. Her new building. And now— the perfect man. Was it all too much for one person to deserve?

The only thing keeping Mari from splintering away from the broken woman in the chair was Hector. The thought of him. Trapped somewhere. Frightened. Cold. Hungry. Possibly being abused. Possibly worse-

Bolting from her chair, Marisol finally felt her soul surging back into her body. And it hurt. Everything in her body hurt. But breathing was the worst— each breath twisting a knife through her chest. "I can't sit here. I've got to do something."  

Eyes wide, Sharon stared at her, finally nodding. "Anything, Mari. Just tell me. Tell me what you want to do."

"I want Luz's file. The one we have here— and the one downtown. Do you know anyone who could get us a copy of that one?"

Pursing her lips, Sharon slowly moved to her desk, snapping on the computer screen. "I think I know someone who can help us out."

***

"Charlie— just listen to me." His fingers clenched tightly around his phone, Jeff wanted to hurl it against the wall. "I've got eleven solid leads on a license plate. Are you saying you don't want them?"

It was probably better that his brother-in-law was safely out of reach right now, or Jeff would seriously be contemplating choking him. What good was having a cop in the family if he wasn't willing to help? "So— I give them to you, but you won't tell me who they belong to? We need help narrowing them down. Addresses would probably do that for us."

Jeff was seething. It was a friggin' miracle. Big Pete had performed a miracle right here on earth. He'd laboriously documented every vehicle that had passed within a two block radius of New Beginnings.

Hourly.

For the past four months.

And now that they had solid information, his dickhead brother-in-law was going all 'strict procedures' on him. "I know about the feds, Charlie. We're living this hell, remember?"

Dragging his free hand through his hair, Jeff settled back against the building. Big Pete, Hank, his brother, and Harry . . . all stood waiting for Charlie to run the damn plates and give them a corresponding address. It wasn't as though they were planning a vigilante mob. Hell— the addresses alone would help them eliminate half the vehicles on their list. The people who worked and lived in the area and by chance had happened to park near the shelter in the past month. One thing was damned sure— Luz didn't live anywhere nice.

Once they had a narrowed down list, the plan was to break up into groups and drive to each address. If anything looked promising, they could call the cops to raid the house. Instead, his brother-in-law was feeding him a state police line of bullshit about the bureaucratic mess that occurred when the feds became involved.

All Charlie's excuses confirmed for Jeff was that the cops would be moving more glacially than he'd previously assumed. Pushing off the wall, he paced the length of the newly poured sidewalk. Not watching where he was going, he brushed past two men, nearly equal to each other in height and burliness. "Sorry," he said absently as he strode past. Barely six feet past them, he exploded, his fury nearly volcanic. "Dammit, Charlie— I love this girl. I love her son. You've got to help me."

Cursing over his brother-in-law's adamant refusal to fork over the addresses, Jeff hung up, resisting the urge to hurl his phone to the pavement. Slowly turning around, he was surprised to see the two men still standing in the growing shadows. Watching him. Waiting for him. Taking a step closer, Jeff finally recognized one of them. "Manny— is that you?"

Marisol's brother stuck out his hand. "Hey, Jeff. This is my father, Luis." Jeff turned to face the father of the woman he loved. Their introduction couldn't possibly have come at a worse time. Barely able to function, Jeff knew he was not acting remotely civilized. Wordlessly, he extended his hand.

Luis Ortega held it, sizing him up in the rapidly approaching dusk. "You're the guy? With my Marisol?"

"Yes, sir. I'm . . . the guy." The guy who was hopelessly in love with his daughter. With a woman who was inside this very building— falling apart. And there was not a damn thing he could do to help her . . . to ease her distress in any way. Yeah— he was
that
guy.

Luis Ortega's face was nearly expressionless, except for his dark eyes, which seemed capable of burrowing deep within him— missing nothing along the way. Marisol had told him a little about her father— in preparation for this weekend. According to Mari's description, Luis Ortega had been tough, strict, loving and loyal. With the exception of his mysterious job, her father was an open book. What you saw was what you got. Judging by the current expression on his face, it was a prickly, brooding book.

"How's my girl holding up?"

His facade beginning to crumble, Jeff hesitated. "Not well. She's— holding up. But— we're trapped in a nightmare-" When he heard his voice begin to crack, he knew he'd be better off not speaking. As though his brother could sense the terrible vibe emanating from him, Jake appeared at his side. "Mr. Ortega? Nice to meet you. I'm Jeff's brother, Jake."

Grateful for his brother's presence, Jeff felt Luis' eyes still appraising him. "Did I hear right? You said you've got license plate numbers?"   

"Yeah-" Jake turned to him. "Did you manage to get anything out of Charlie?"

Joining them, his cousin Harry quickly explained to the Ortegas how they'd come up with the plate numbers and that once filtered, the lead was likely a strong one.

"He won't give us the addresses. With the feds involved, he can't risk releasing that information. Says it's a leak and he'd get fired over it. But he promised to let us know as they make any progress." Jeff felt dull, listless. Unable to help Marisol.

He was surprised a moment later when Luis patted him on the shoulder. "Give 'em to me. I can get the addresses. Then we go check each and every one of them." When Jeff handed him the piece of paper, Luis turned to his son. "Manuel— get my secure phone from the car."

***

"Mari, love— how can I help you? What are we looking for?" Bridget Ortega sat with her daughter, wanting desperately to help. Yet, Mari knew there was nothing that could ever make her feel better. Not until she had Hector back.

"I don't know, mama. I don't know. I just know I have to look." Marisol poured over the files on the table, as though possessed by demons. Like a bereaved person who suddenly feels the violent urge to scour an entire house to fill the aching void of a loved one's death, Marisol was processing her grief and desperation over Hector by maniacally reviewing data. Everything they had on Luz Covas. Every minute detail. Every absurd, stupid, inconsequential bit of information. Because it was all she had. It was all she could do.

Her poor mother sat beside her, helpless to console her rapidly deteriorating daughter.

"Find anything yet?"

Jenna's soft voice pierced through the cottony thickness of her despair. Like a too-heavy blanket, smothering her, it threatened to suffocate her. "Not much. Lots of notes from DSS regarding her health . . . her fitness— or lack of it." Burying her head in her hands, Marisol felt tears burning the back of her eyes, clogging her throat. "Why they delayed the adoption for so long— I'll never understand."

Mona Traynor joined them at the table. Behind her, her former husband carried a tray of sandwiches and drinks. While Marisol appreciated Linc's gesture, the thought of food— of anything in her stomach— made it roil with nausea. But the others were likely hungry.

"What about the car?" Mona's question penetrated the uncomfortable silence. "Would there be anything in a file somewhere that talked about her visits?"

Her vision clouded, Mari raised her head. "What do you mean?"

"Like in prison-" Pulling out a chair, Jeff's mother sat down opposite her. "You have to sign in and you have to provide your vehicle information. Would there be anything like that?" The older woman made eye contact with Sharon. "We'd be looking for anything we could cross-reference to a visit."

"How could Luz even have a car?" Linc entered the conversation. "I seriously doubt she could afford one— given her lifestyle."

Jenna's indrawn breath was audible. "What if the same person who drove the car today was also the person who brought Luz to her DSS appointments?"

Sharon's seat scraped back, breaking the deathly silence. "I think you're on to something, Mrs. Traynor. We might even be able to get photo stills— from the parking lot cameras."  Most state buildings have mounted cameras."

Latching on to hope— to the slightest possibility that they could find the needle in a monstrous haystack, Mari released a shaky breath. "How long, Sharon?"

"I got a few favors I can call in, Sugar. Let me make a couple calls."

***

Pacing the darkened parking lot, Jeff nearly crackled with energy. Four hours had passed. The sun had set. More than anything, he'd wanted to go inside the shelter— to console Marisol. To hold her. Yet, he was also afraid. Of seeing her face. The devastation she must be feeling. And to not be able to help her. It was too much.

So, he'd remained outside in the dark, telling himself she was surrounded by family, both hers and his. Telling himself they were working on leads. All while praying for something promising he could report to her. All while wishing he could just go to her.

"Jefferson?" Luis Ortega's subtle accent was unmistakable in the darkness.

"Sir? Do you have anything yet?"

Luis approached him, again with those damned eagle eyes appraising him. This was not Jeff's finest hour. Hopefully, Mari's father would not hold it against him.

"We've got the addresses, but I don't know this area. I want you to review them— make an educated guess on which ones are our likely targets. Let's rank them according to location."

Jeff accepted the printout, wondering why Luis carried a printer in his vehicle. "Okay— we've only got eleven. These three are out in the county. Not bad neighborhoods. I can't imagine Luz has any friends left who lead normal lives. So, I'd rank these last."

Through process of elimination, Jeff was able to get the total down to six possible addresses. After consulting with the motley crew in the parking lot, they narrowed the list down to four. Four addresses within the city's limits. Two of those were in the most notoriously violent projects in the city. The other two were in neighborhoods with slightly better economic conditions, but not enough so they could be ruled out as possibilities.

"So— what's our next move?" Luis stood next to him as they reviewed a map of the city.

"Each group is going to take an address and go check it out. We'll stay in touch by cell phone. If we can rule one out quickly, that team will provide backup at the next one on the list," Jeff explained. Pointing to an X on the map, he tapped the location. "In my opinion, this one is probably the most dangerous. I don't want any of the volunteers going there. I'll take it myself."

Nodding, Luis pulled him aside. "You, me and Manuel," he corrected. "
We're
gonna take that one."

Jake, Hank and Big Pete stood close enough to hear Mari's father. Pete straightened to his full height. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm goin' to that one, too."

Manny glanced at his father as some unspoken message passed between them. Manuel nodded. "Right. I'll get your toolkit." 

***

"Jeff— where are you?" Marisol could barely contain the excitement in her voice.

Fumbling with the map, Jeff managed to get the phone to his ear. Jacked up about what they were about to undertake, he was having trouble with what were normally easy tasks. At least Big Pete had the foresight to task Manny with the driving. Jeff was relegated to the backseat where he could cause the least amount of damage. Him being a basket case and all. "What's happening? Is Hector— did she bring him back?"