Come Hell or High Desire (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Peering out the shuttered window to the parking lot below, Zack saw her performance
for the undercover officers.

Run, Zack
.

Damn you, you stubborn, impossible woman.
He sprinted through her loft, gathering the newspaper clipping, money, invoices,
and CD into the zippered pouch, then pulled on John’s battered baseball cap and followed
the same escape route she’d used moments before.

Two blocks away, he slid behind the wheel of the El Camino, pulled his cell from his
jeans pocket, and replaced the battery. After booting up, it indicated a message from
an unrecognized number. He entered his password and pressed the phone to his ear.

A woman crying.

Ann?
Ann!
He couldn’t understand what she was saying. Sobbing.

“Damn it!” His fingers curled around the phone. What was she saying? Then, “How c-could
you do this to us? You monst—” Her yell caved in upon itself, her body clearly absorbing
a physical blow of some sort.

Zack’s skin prickled as hot fury quickly replaced the chill that had flooded his system.
A pause in the message, then a ghostly whisper, “Tiiime’sss almossst up.
Boom
!”

And that was it.

The phone indicated the call had come through three hours earlier.
What?
He’d checked messages two hours ago. No way could he have missed this one. His hand
trembled as he listened to the message twice more. The person could be male or female
for all he could tell.

He pounded the steering wheel, furious because Ann was still missing.

Giddy because she was still alive as of two or three hours ago.

Hope could be a terrible thing.

Time’s almost up.
What was that supposed to mean? Time for what? To find her? She’d said,
How could you do this to us?
So, she obviously knew her captor. Did she mean
us
, as in her and him, or her and the baby? Whoever was holding her was obviously enjoying
this, the rank puss-bucket piece of shit.

And what the hell did
boom
mean?

He swallowed hard.
Don’t go there. Not now
.

He started the car and pulled onto the street. Should he turn himself in? Give them
his phone? The cops had to have ways to track incoming calls like that.

The phone rang in his hand, and he swerved, nearly offing a pedestrian. When he glanced
back at the phone, he didn’t recognize the number. “Ann?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, Zack! I do you a huge favor and you don’t
have the gooch ass decency to say thank you?”

“Morgan, I don’t have time for drama.”

“Where are you?”

“I gotta go.”

“Oh sure! Use me and then toss me aside, mother felching douche bag! You’re just like
all the others, you selfish—”

He disconnected, the sudden silence in the car an amplification of his guilt. He powered
off the phone and removed the battery again before slipping both into his pocket.

He couldn’t fix this with Morgan right now. But he would.

Just as he’d fix it with Sloane.

After he fixed about a million other things. Ann and her baby were still out there.

Somewhere
.

He pressed down on the accelerator.

Zack cursed when the El Camino sputtered and died four blocks north of Divine Shepherd
Lutheran campus. He’d known it would be a long shot to find Colette alone, but what
else could he do? She knew something. He’d have to get her alone and convince her
to tell him.

And he wanted her to know he didn’t take her kids. Made him sick to think anyone could
do such a thing.

He slipped out the passenger door, the zippered pouch tucked into the waistband of
his jeans. He walked as casually as possible over to two cars parked by the curb,
pretending to scrape something off the tire walls, all the while scanning the two-block
vicinity. A dog was barking behind a west-facing house and someone was baking, the
heavy chocolate scent wafting through the air. It was all so…normal.

Only it wasn’t.

Sure enough, there was a nondescript white van about a hundred feet from the rectory’s
driveway on the opposite side of the road. Cops most likely.

Of course Colette wasn’t alone. He turned and jogged a few blocks away. Walking on
the boulevards, he looked into all the parked cars until he found an old Pontiac Grand
Am with the keys in the ignition. Ignoring a shaft of guilt, he climbed in and took
off.

He spent the first ten miles watching the rearview mirror. He crossed the North Dakota
border into Minnesota and wondered if this was how some people ended up losing their
minds.

Backed into a corner with nowhere to go and no friendly faces.

He was being a fool. A crazy, reckless fool.

He could’ve turned himself in back there, but he wasn’t sure he believed in the whole
martyr thing, especially when it didn’t guarantee Ann’s recovery.

This wasn’t how his life was supposed to spin out. As much as he’d resisted, John
had changed him, he realized. Made him want more than guarded isolation.

He wanted a life. Even when it hurt. A few friends, an honest career, his dogs, a
chance to pay it forward. A family someday.

Sloane
.

He just had to think.

With all the police around, Colette wasn’t a productive avenue. The bodyguard and
security companies were also a lost cause until he could give them the codes so he
had to find them. John wasn’t one to write a lot of things down, but if he did, where
would he have put the passwords?

The more Zack thought about it, if John had written the passwords anywhere, they were
either in the office vault or in the totes in Ann’s closet he’d seen when he’d found
Dallan. When Zack had moved Ann in, she’d told him they were her father’s.

That would certainly be John’s style. Keep something hidden right under your nose
until he thought you were good and ready to handle it.

Zack turned the stolen car around, put his phone back together and tried Archie’s
number. This time it went to voicemail. Where was he? Twyla trouble?
Let their baby be okay.

A few miles from Ann’s, he reached into his pocket for a crumpled piece of paper.
Donovan had nothing to report yet on Barnaba, but he’d found out Benjamin had a private
investigator on his payroll. Sloane would die if she knew. Benji had probably known
all along she’d been the one working his granddaughter’s case. The old goat was probably
setting her up for something ugly.

Zack’s lips tightened. As he turned the final corner onto Ann’s block he saw what
looked like a blue Ford Explorer vanish down the opposite street.
Archie?

His imagination was on overdrive. Besides, blue SUVs were a dime a dozen.

Where should he park to get into Ann’s? The cops were long gone, but the neighbors
would still be on alert. He froze when the phone rang. Twyla’s number lit up his display.
“Twyla?”

“Please tell me Archie’s with you. I’m having contractions, and this stupid media
terrorism’s got me scared. Now there’s a building on fire downtown—”

“Whoa,
whoa
. What building? Not Samuel’s—”

“No. Some ritzy joint.”

His heart stopped. “Blackhawk Gates?”

“That’s it.”

Sloane.
“Are they—did they make sure everyone was out of the building?” He gunned it down
the street, passing Ann’s condo. When he turned the corner, he didn’t see any sign
of the blue vehicle.

“I think so. I’m nervous for you, Zack. Is Archie there?”

Wings battered his gut. “No, but I’m sure everything’s okay. He’s probably helping
one of his buddies and left his phone in the truck again.” The Blue Explorer? Zack
had a feeling Archie was scoping out more than he’d let on. If that had been his truck,
what was he up to? “Maybe you should go to the clinic to make sure you and the baby
are okay. Call Morgan. She’ll take you and help watch Logan.”

“But—”

“Take care of your family, Twyla. I’ll find Archie and be in touch.” He hung up. What
else could he say? He didn’t know anything anymore, and he didn’t want to frighten
her. He looked at the speedometer and forced himself to ease up on the gas. He’d need
to ditch this vehicle soon.

But first he had to know Sloane was safe.

He dialed her cell number. When she picked up, his back slumped against the seat in
relief. “Sloane—”

“That murdering bastard burned my home! It had to have been him!”

“Where are you?”

“Watching the flames. All the black smoke. Nothing left.”

“Can you leave without the police or firefighters knowing?”

“No.”

“You gotta try, Goldie.”

“Who hates us so much?”

“I’m going to find out. But you have to get away, okay?” Silence on the other end.
He could feel his pulse in the hand holding the phone. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

He released his breath. “Meet me in the hospital parking ramp. Top level. I’ll take
you somewhere safe.”

“I don’t want—”

“I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

“Zack—”

“Your parents are out of the country, right?”

“Yes.”

“I need to keep you safe, Sloane.
Please.
”

Finally, she whispered, “Top level?”

“Top level in five.” He disconnected quickly. As much as he wanted to stay on the
line until he could see the whites of her eyes, he had one more call to make.

Ross picked up on the second ring. “I hope you’re sitting on an island far, far away
because the shit has officially hit the fan, Zack. How in the
hell
are you going to dig out of this?”

“I need a favor, buddy.”

Zack pulled into the YMCA parking lot where Ross had agreed to meet him to pick up
Sloane.

“I want to stay with you.” She laid a hand on his thigh. “Look at me.”

He did.
Big mistake.
Her eyes turned his rational faculties to mush. “Sloane—”

“I feel safer with you.”

“I’ve got a target on my back,” he said.

She blanched and looked down at her lap. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault.” He brought her chin up so she could see it in his eyes.
“None of this is. I believe in you, Goldie. Your gift, too. I know you can help, but
I can’t let you right now. Someone has it in for people connected to Samuel’s, and
anyone associated with us is in jeopardy. Tori knew about Ann’s diary. She’s dead.
You’ve been seen with me, and look at your building. God, Sloane, what if you’d been
in there?” The horror of it had replayed over and over in his mind.

“I wish I could help.” Her tone told him she didn’t believe that would ever happen.
But there was no time to make her see. To help her trust.

Ross had opened his car door and stepped outside to wait. From his look of unease,
Zack could tell he hated it, was scared to do it—didn’t
want
to do it—but Zack felt more relieved than ever that his right hand man had agreed
to safeguard Sloane until the bulk of this disaster was over.

He pressed a hard kiss to Sloane’s lips and a piece of paper into her hand. “Ross
is going to take you back to Samuel’s. John has a fold-out bed in the wall of his
office and a full bathroom next door. The number on this paper is the combination
for the vault behind his desk. The vault is fireproof and indestructible. No one alive
has the combination besides me. If you have the slightest feeling of trouble, get
in. There’s a small stash of food, water, and a phone inside, and a handle so you
can get out again. For now, Ross will bring you clothes, toiletries, food, whatever
you need.”

“Why can’t the police protect me?”

“They’ve got their hands full. Even if they would assign one or two officers to watch
over you—which they won’t—flesh and blood can’t protect you as well as the four-foot
concrete walls of that vault.”

She stopped him before he could unbuckle her seatbelt. “This is ridiculous. I don’t
want
to hide out while you’re hunting down the bad guys!”

“Are you willing to shoot someone to save your own life?” When she didn’t reply, he
brushed his fingers against her cheek. “We are in survival mode. Promise me you’ll
stay there.”

“What about my shop?”

“Won’t matter if you’re dead. Promise me, Goldie.”

“Promise to call me.”

“If I’m able to,” he said.

“Promise.”

He gripped the steering wheel hard in one hand. “Okay, yes. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He reached across her lap to open her door. She hesitated. His fingers reached up
to slide into the hair at her temple. She leaned her head into his hand and closed
her eyes. His throat tightened. Arms went around her. Too soon, he gave her a nudge
out the door toward Ross, who stood sideways, offering them a modicum of privacy.

At the door of Ross’s car, she turned back to face him. She raised a hand to her lips
and blew him a kiss before climbing inside.

I love you.

Had she really projected the words? Or was he only hearing what he wanted to hear?

He sprinted across the parking lot, slipped into the company truck Ross had one of
their workers bring for him, and pulled out of the parking lot prepared to face a
thousand monsters. What the landscape would look like at the end of this battle, he
had no idea, but at least he could count on having Sloane protected.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Zack was en route to Ann’s when Archie finally called. “You’ve got a lot of explaining
to do.”

Archie chuckled. “Yeah, I see you called like ten times. Where’d you get a phone?”

“Tell you later.”

“
Uh, huh.
Thought so.”

“You know squat.”

“I know the cops are pissed you’re AWOL.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t aware of that. They probably already have a bead on me since my
phone’s been on for the last hour. You talk to Twyla?” Zack spotted a police cruiser
dead ahead and made a quick right turn, pulled to the curb, and sank in his seat.
Sweat rolled down his back as he adjusted the side mirror to watch behind him.

“Yeah, I made it to her appointment. Her mom’s with her now. She’s jumpy, but fine.”

Makes two of us.
“Whatcha got?” The police vehicle passed his block. He exhaled.

“Ann use a cleaning service?” Archie asked.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Some dude had a key to her place, got in, then came out like twenty five minutes
later. Truck sign said
Presto Perfect Cleaners
. Thing is…this was at six a.m. this morning. And there’s no Presto Perfect Cleaners
in the phone book,” Archie said.

“Why were you at Ann’s?”

“Cops aren’t the only ones who use surveillance. Since the guy you shot got away,
there’s a missing piece here. A big one. My gut tells me someone’s still sniffing
around her place.”

“I didn’t call any cleaners. And even if Ann used someone regularly, she’d never have
them there that early. You trail ’em?”

“Straight to Benji’s new Taj Mahal,” Archie said.

“The cleaner went to the mall? That doesn’t make any sense. We use a different company
for clean—”

It had to be the guy he’d surprised at Ann’s
. Zack smacked the seat beside him. “Did he get inside?”

“At the mall? Yeah. I tried to follow, but the door locked behind him. I stuck around
for almost an hour, but then had to go with Twy for her appointment. When I went back
later, the truck was gone.”

“What’d he look like?” Zack asked.

“Average to solid build. Average height. I couldn’t tell a lot because I was pretty
far away and he wore a crap-load of white and a cap pulled low with sunglasses. Looked
like he had sandy blond hair, but it also could have been gray for all I could tell
under his hat. Wasn’t dark-skinned or dark-haired, that much I know.”

“Or he was in disguise. Dammit, I have nothing. You hear about the kidnapping?”

“Yeah, he’s one twisted loser. Twyla’s pretty freaked out.”

“To cover so many places at once, he can’t be working alone,” Zack said.

“Whoever it is, he wants to mess with you, man. Pick you apart until you bleed. Go
through it all again. Connect the dots. Ann. Sloane’s girl at the store. Now Sloane’s
building. There’s got to be a pattern. Figure it out, then tell me what I can do next.”

Zack’s entire frame had tensed. “How do you know about Sloane?”

“Dude, I’m your brother. I keep tabs on you. I have another angle to work. I’ll be
in touch.”

“No! Wait!” The line went dead. Zack gritted his teeth and turned the car around.

No more running.
Time for a come-to-Jesus with Benjamin. He’d been a slightly younger contemporary
of John’s, but they’d hungered for the same woman. And John had been the one to have
her. Temporarily and publicly anyway.

Something must have happened to scare John enough to think she needed lifetime protection.
Even if she was an epic bitch.

In her vision, Sloane had seen Benjamin fawning over Ann. And of course he’d shown
up at Ann’s intending to ask her to model for the charity event, so he obviously liked
her. But he had almost four decades on her. He couldn’t possibly think she’d fall
for him, especially when she had her own trust fund. Was he trying to recreate a fantasy
about Serena? The thought was quite disturbing.

And Colette. How did she figure in? What about Tori’s and Dallan’s murders? Was there
something in the diary they’d missed? Was Barnaba somehow involved?

Ann was the only solid piece tying everything together.

Definitely time to find out what Benjamin knew.

It had been roughly four hours since the call from Ann’s abductor.
Time’s almost up,
the voice had said. But how much time was left? Or had he meant the fire at Sloane’s?

Ten minutes later, he grabbed his gun and a narrow rope from the truck’s glove box—
thank you, Ross
—and slammed the door in Benjamin’s circular driveway. The early afternoon sun reflected
off the multi-faceted glass on the massive double doors, shining rainbows on the brass
handles. Three stories, six garages, and a reported twenty thousand square feet, the
house was a gray brick monstrosity.

Zack rang the bell, gripping the rope like a lifeline.

The door opened and Zack pushed a lanky, hook-nosed man—
a butler? Really?
—inside, the gun snug against his back. “Where’s Benjamin?” The man nearly fainted,
but Zack grabbed him by the arm. “You don’t need to be afraid if you cooperate.”

The man half-stumbled, half-leaned against Zack as they made their way toward a nine-foot
door. “He’s in th-th-there.”

The guy’s lips were blue. Looked like he was about to pass out, too. Zack felt bad
about it, but lives were at stake. He opened what turned out to be the library door
and pushed the butler inside. Benjamin stood up behind his desk, a look of outrage
adding vigor to his normally sallow features.

“What the hell is going on? I’m calling the police!”

Zack raised the pistol. “Wanna bet my bullet travels faster than your fingers?”

Benjamin sent him a look of raw hatred, but he lowered the handset. “You’re out of
your mind.”

Zack threw the rope on the desk. “Tie the good butler to the chair. Make it tight.
If I have to redo it, you’ll be the one with regrets.”

The employee voluntarily took a seat and Benjamin leaned one knee on the floor to
tie the man’s hands behind his back. “You’ll pay for this, Goldman.” A faint sheen
glistened over his upper lip.

“Where’s Ann?”

Benjamin shot to his feet. “Her name shouldn’t even cross your filthy mouth!”

“Where is she?”

“You tell me! You’re the lowlife John resurrected from the riverb—” Zack’s fist connected
with Benjamin’s middle, bending him in half. Then Zack grabbed him by the hair and
hauled him backward against the heavy bookcases lining the far wall.

He pressed close enough to see the gold flecks in Benjamin’s muddy green eyes. “Me?
What about
you?
You
like
her. Her looks. Always have, haven’t you? You wanted her so much you gave your enemy
your business, hoping to get near her. Your taste of the mother was so sweet, might
as well sample the daughter, too, right?”

“P-pond scum!” Benjamin’s eyes widened and in the next instant his face crumpled.
“She’s nearly Serena’s doppelganger.”

Zack jerked back to avoid knocking heads with him as Benjamin’s anger deflated like
a leaky balloon. “You have one last chance to tell me where she is.”

“Or what?” Benjamin’s head flew up, his eyes bloodshot. “I don’t know! I would move
heaven and earth to find her. I’ve had a PI on it, but she’s just gone. Gone! Just
like Abby. Joan.
Serena
.”

Zack let him sag in a heap to the floor. The guy was a case. Seriously. But then,
he was probably allowed, after what had happened to his granddaughter. And then his
daughter, Joan, who’d taken her own life after the tragedy, according to Sloane.

And somehow, Zack believed him. “Tell me about Serena. Why did she disappear?”

Benjamin shakily climbed into his desk chair. After a moment he almost looked like
his arrogant self again. “Put your infernal weapon away. You know it wasn’t me.”

Zack stuck the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “If you care about Ann, you’d better
tell me why Serena had to leave. This is somehow connected, and we don’t have a lot
of time.”

“Serena was a goddess. Her voice, her beauty. She made you feel like the only person
in the world when she talked to you.” He looked down at his perfectly groomed hands
like they were a stranger’s. “Why someone would try to scare her…”

“Who was it?”

“We never found out.”

“We?”

Benjamin smiled sadly. “I’ve had private investigators on this for more than twenty
years now.”

“A tad obsessive, don’t you think? Maybe it was
you
sending the letters,” Zack said.

A hard look came into Benjamin’s eyes. “Women like Serena—like Ann—are meant to be
cherished.”

“You mean
kept.
”

Benjamin waved a hand in the air. “Men of your generation don’t understand. All this
stupid equality of the sexes nonsense. Men are stronger. We make the money, then we
take care of the women.”

Zack thought of Sloane’s fear that Benjamin would find out about her role in Abigail’s
tragic story. That Benjamin couldn’t protect his granddaughter must have been horrific
on so many levels, especially given his patriarchal slant. Had he been as calculating
and cold before Abigail’s death and his daughter’s suicide? Could he have been the
one to send Serena the letters, hoping fear would drive a wedge between her and John?

“What did John do when he found out you were having an affair with her, too?”

Benjamin snorted. “John was oblivious to anything—anyone—but her. He didn’t know.
At least not at first… But your man Ross did.”

The air stopped midway in Zack’s throat. “What?” He stepped toward Benjamin, who rolled
backwards in his chair. “What does Ross have to do with any of this?”

Benjamin stood up. “Get out! You’ve threatened me at gunpoint, and I’ve had enough!”

Zack moved fast. He had him up against the bookcase once more, his arm tight across
Benjamin’s windpipe. “And I’ll do it again and again until I have the information
I need to find Ann and stop a killer. Did you know she’s pregnant?” The old man flinched.
“Yeah, Ann’s more vulnerable than ever. You thought she needed protection before?
Guess what, the ante’s up. Are you in?”

Benjamin pulled at Zack’s arm and managed a nod. Zack released the pressure against
his throat. “Then tell me what I need to know, starting with Ross.”
Sloane?
He tried reaching out, but she didn’t answer. The back of his neck prickled. “Hurry
up, man!”

Benjamin wet his lips, then cleared his throat, rubbing at it with his hand. “Ross
was an undergrad at the time, but it seems he had a thing for Serena, too. More than
once I’d stop by her office at the university, and he’d be sitting in the hallway
outside. When I started working with your outfit, I didn’t recognize him because as
a college student he’d been a long-haired slob. It wasn’t until recently—probably
about a month ago when I got a good look at his unusual eyes—that I realized your
impeccably groomed CFO was the new, improved version of the undergrad who’d pined
for Serena.”

Zack sucked air through his nose to try to calm his heartbeat, but it only made it
worse. “How’d you make the connection?”

“I walked into the office one afternoon and saw Ross staring at Ann with those pale
green eyes of his. It was déjà vu, only I couldn’t reconcile the feeling until later
on.”

“Déjà vu meaning you’d seen Ross looking at Serena that way a couple decades ago?”

Benjamin nodded, and a key turned in the lock.

Now he knew why his attacker at Ann’s had seemed so familiar. Zack’s world tilted
as an uncharted feeling swamped him. He clenched his fists, but he couldn’t feel them.
Cold.
Cold.
The bite crawled into his chest, pierced his throat.
Can’t breathe.

Ross.
My God.
No.

No.

Sloane
.

Pain razored through him.

He’d led her right to the slaughter
.