Cravings (11 page)

Chapter 22

A
fter getting off the phone with the consul in Ecuador, who assured Sanj of Jackson's wellness and safety, but said he still needed to go through some testing and evaluation before he could leave the country, his phone buzzed again.

“Sanj Jain?”

“Yes.”

“You and I have a mutual friend,” the voice said. Gravelly, unfamiliar, it had a menacing tone that hit Sanj's chest with a stone-cold thud.

“We do? Who is this?”

His words were careful, clipped. “Never mind who this is.”

“If you don't explain yourself, sir, I will disconnect.” Sanj took control. Or tried to.

“Maeve.”

Sanj's breath nearly left his body—or maybe it had. Air, where is the air? His mouth couldn't find words either. Whatever control he had tried to maintain vanished.

“I have your friend Maeve here. And she is so delicious,” the voice said, making a hissing noise on the
s,
dragging it out. “But she's not feeling well . . . too much cock-sucking, I think.”

“Now hold on,” Sanj said, pulse racing. Beads of sweat pricking his forehead. Stomach lurching. “What are you talking about? If you have Maeve there, I want to speak with her.”

The gravelly voiced man laughed—a sordid, guttural laugh. “Talk to him, honey.”

“Sanj?” She barely whispered into the phone. Was it Maeve? “Sanj,” she said, stronger this time. Yes, it was Maeve. “Don't do it. Whatever he—”

He heard a muffled scream in the background and the line went dead.

Sanj stood holding his phone. “Call back! Please call back!” he said to his phone. Sweat poured from his forehead. He sopped up his face and head with his handkerchief.

He wanted to call his assistant to contact a PI, to contact the police, but he didn't want to tie up the line. He used the hotel phone and within minutes was patched through to his assistant, Josh.

“Do you still have the cell?” Josh asked him.

“Yes, of course,” Sanj said.

“We may be able to trace the call. There's a police precinct two miles from where you are. I'll contact them from my end, too. You will have to do without your phone an hour or so. I will also call your cell company. I'm guessing it will lead nowhere. But we have to try. How long has she been missing?”

“About five days, I think,” Sanj managed to say. His throat tightened. Damn, he needed a drink.

“We can only manage maybe another few days and we'll have to contact other authorities. But since we don't know what he's looking for—”

“He must know I'm wealthy. I'll pay him whatever he wants for her.”

“I think if he wanted money he'd have asked for it.”

“What else could it be?”

“I have no idea. Maybe I'm wrong. Who knows? These guys are whacked,” he said. “Stay in touch. My team will be there soon. I'll ready the plane.”

And he was gone. The one voice of reason right now.

Sanj had to hold it together. Had to manage. But first, he couldn't contain the urge to retch any longer.

Getting to the police station was not a problem. At least ten cabs were lined up along the curb. As he left his cab, the cabbie handed him a note. “Some kid gave me this to give to you,” he said and shrugged.

“Hold on,” Sanj said, opening the letter.

It's Sasha. I want Sasha,
read the note.

Sasha? Damn. Didn't he know Sasha would bring trouble? Didn't she warn him? Sasha!

“Who gave this to you?” he managed to ask through the pounding in his head.

“A boy, musta been about ten. Blond, blue-eyed. Cute kid,” he said.

“Do you have a card?”

The man handed it to him and Sanj tipped him well. As he handed him the money, Sanj realized his hands trembled.

“You okay, buddy?”

Sanj nodded. “I will be. Thank you.”

But as he turned to walk to the police station his knees wobbled. He breathed in the humid air. When he entered the modern air-conditioned establishment, he felt a bit better. Renaldo was waiting for him.

“Sanj Jain?”

He nodded.

“Good to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. “What do you have?”

He was not what Sanj expected. He certainly wasn't native, with his light skin, piercing blue eyes, and long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.

He showed the paper to the officer and relayed the story.

“Glad you got the guy's card. Come in to my office,” he said. “Can I get you some tea?”

Renaldo had a strange accent Sanj couldn't quite place. It wasn't quite Scottish, yet it reminded him of the place.

Sanj shook his head.

The detective took Sanj's phone and handed it to a younger person, who nodded—he expected him and was prepared. “Be right back,” he said.

After the detective situated himself behind his desk, he asked who the hell Sasha was.

“A woman I recently met,” Sanj told him. “I met her in Ecuador. She traveled with me here.” He suddenly remembered he was supposed to meet her and Jennifer at the plantation. “She and another woman, a friend, are at the Mozingo plantation today.”

“What's Sasha's story?” he asked, lifting his chin with a nod.

“I really don't know,” Sanj replied, a little uncomfortable talking to this man about her. He knew that Josh trusted him, but the man was a cop who had to abide by laws, and Sasha's past was illicit.

“Well, when she gets back, I'd like to talk with her. I'd like to get to the bottom of this. Now what exactly did the voice say to you on the phone?”

Sanj repeated what he had already told Josh.

“Well, now we know he doesn't want money. He wants Sasha. A woman for a woman, so to speak.” He hitched his eyebrow. “Must be a hell of a woman.”

“They both are, actually,” Sanj said after a moment. “Maeve told me not to do whatever he asked.”

“Yes, but did she know what he was asking?”

Sanj shrugged.

The young man walked back into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir.”

“What do you have for us?”

“Unfortunately the phone is not really traceable. It's a prepaid cell phone. But we were able to trace a bit of a faint GPS signal. The device is on the island. That's all I can tell you for now. We're checking to see where the phone was activated,” the young man said.

“Did you say it's on the island?” Sanj said. Could it be?

He nodded.

“Then Maeve is here somewhere,” Sanj said. “We should be able to find her. Let's get busy.”

Chapter 23

A
t the Mozingo plantation, Sasha and Jennifer filled up on a lunch followed by fresh chocolates filled with dark chocolate liqueur, infused with nutmeg, clove, bay leaf, and orange peel. They were so giddy from the aftereffects they barely noticed when Sanj walked into the room accompanied by a uniformed police officer and a well-dressed blond gentlemen.

But Sasha did notice when José Mozingo stood abruptly. She elbowed Jennifer and nodded in their direction. The next thing they knew, the two of them were escorted into the inner sanctum of the house.

“What's going on?” Jennifer asked Sanj. He motioned for her to be quiet. She rolled her eyes.

Sasha lingered behind. She hated being in a room with police. A hard emotional habit to break. Still, her nerves began to twitch.

“I am Inspector Renaldo D'Amico,” the well-dressed blond man said. “We are here investigating a kidnapping. We ask that each one of you cooperate.”

The uniformed officer was pleasant looking, with a bit of a paunch. He was probably married and settled with a family. But D'Amico looked like he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.

“This is absurd. What would any of us know about a kidnapping?” Mozingo said. He was a man used to giving orders, not being the brunt of them.

“Please, Mr. Mozingo. Time is of the essence. We're searching for this young lady, Maeve Flannery.” He waved his hand as the uniformed officer handed out copies of Maeve's photo.

Sasha's stomach sank. What was going on here? Why did Sanj get the authorities involved? Obviously the American woman with Mozingo was not Maeve—so what were they doing here? Maeve must still be in Ecuador; they'd jumped to conclusions and made a mistake by coming here.

Sasha glanced in the American woman's direction. She studied the photo.

“She the cookbook author?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sanj said. “Have you seen her?”

“It's hard to say. I follow her blog and have all of her books. I imagine if I spotted her, I'd remember it, though out of context memory can be tricky,” she said.

“She disappeared in Ecuador,” D'Amico stated. “After a scuffle in a bar.” He glanced in Mozingo's direction. “We were under the impression you took her that evening.”

“Me?” His face paled. “Me? Well, no, no, no. I didn't take her.” He glanced at his wife. “Of course, I'd never kidnap a woman. You insult me, sir.”

“Why would they think that?” his wife leveled at him. Her eyes squinting.

This American woman was newly married, all right, and Sasha didn't think she quite trusted her husband, judging from the way she glared at him. Her freckled face reddened.

He shrugged, placing his arm around her. She lifted his arm off her.

“What's going on?” she said. “I need to know.”

“Your husband was seen talking with Maeve and her husband. He left for the bathroom and she disappeared, after a bit of a struggle,” D'Amico said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mozingo interrupted. “I remember her. Her husband is the photographer, right? She accused me of using DDT in my farming.”

DDT? Good God? No wonder the man was nervous.
Sasha's heart began to race.

“That would be her,” Jennifer suddenly spoke up. “She's a journalist. A damned fine one.”

The man shifted in his seat. “Well, her accusations had no basis.”

Jennifer harrumphed; the man shot her a glare of disgust.

“So, am I to infer there was trouble that night?” the detective said, leaning on a chair, his blond ponytail flopped across his shoulder.

“Yes, trouble. But it was with her husband. He threatened my life.” Indignant, his chin poked out.

“Cut to the chase, man,” Jennifer said. “What happened to Maeve?”

The room silenced, momentarily, as all eyes focused on him.

“It's not my business, really, what a woman chooses to do with herself,” he replied. “But I saw her leave with another man. I thought he was a lover. He was dashing. Very well dressed. He smelled of money.”

“Anything else about this man? What did he look like?” Jennifer asked.

Mozingo shrugged. “I don't know. It was dark. He was dark. There were a lot of people.... He was a very ordinary-looking man, kind of small.”

“Any distinguishing features?” D'Amico asked.

“Well, he had a strange look to him.”

Sasha watched as the detective leaned forward. Mozingo's wife reached for his hand, urging him on. Jennifer's posture stiffened, as did Sanj's. Sasha's fists balled tightly.

“What exactly does that mean?” Sanj finally asked.

“Well, his face, his complexion, had all these marks,” he said and gestured at his face.

Sasha's heart pounded now—
No, it couldn't be.

“Acne?”

“No. It was like he had acne and it had scarred.”

Sasha drew in a breath.
Could it be?

“I think I heard someone call him Snake,” he said.

Snake! Snake had Maeve!

Sasha felt the air leave her body—like it had been slammed roughly onto the concrete—then a wave of wooziness, then her knees buckled as the light on the table in front of her seemed to melt. Then it all went black.

Chapter 24

“S
asha!” Sanj leapt forward. “I'm a doctor. Back up, people.

Please give her space.”

His doctor-self took over. He had no idea what was happening in the rest of the room. Only Sasha existed.

He listened to her breathing. Yes, she was breathing. Checked her pulse. It was there. It was a little uneven, but relatively normal. She had simply passed out.

“I have some smelling salts in my first-aid kit,” Emma said. “I'll go and get them.”

Sanj nodded. Smelling salts were not ideal, but the might work to rouse her. She was pale, paler than usual. The shock of hearing Snake's name had made her pass out. He knew the name—Snake was the man chasing her across the world. He now had Maeve—the one person she wanted to reach out to for help in starting her new life. She thought Maeve was her only hope. She was wrong. Sanj would be there for her.

When the woman handed Sanj the salts, Jennifer's face moved in front of him and blurred as he turned his eyes. She headed to the other side of the room. What was she up to?

Back to Sasha, beginning to stir and moan.

“I'm afraid this has all been too much for her,” Sanj said to the detective. “Might we leave when it's safe for her to move?”

“Yes, of course,” Detective D'Amico said.

“Nonsense,” said Emma. “She will go to a guest room here until she recovers completely. I'll help you lift her.”

Sasha awakened, confused, and allowed them to help her stand.

“Follow me,” Emma said. She and Sanj led down a long corridor of the house. They entered an elevator and she pushed the button.

“How are you feeling?” Sanj asked Sasha.

She stared into space.

“You can lie down in here,” said Emma as they exited the elevator and walked down the hall to a door.

“So sorry about this,” she said, after flicking the light switch on. “It's a bit of a mess in here. They've been using it for storage. I told them to clean up. Well, at least the bedding is clean and you can lie down.”

Sanj helped her into bed. She reached for his hand.

“Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere,” he said, sitting down on the bed next to her. She closed those chocolate-brown eyes.

Sanj turned to face the woman who helped them.

“Nice place you have here. Thanks for helping.”

“Oh, it's no trouble. And, as for the place, let's just say I'm a long way from home and still getting used to it,” she said, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder. “And obviously the staff is not used to taking orders from a woman.” She gestured to the scattered objects in the room. Clothing. Boxes. Bedding. Towels. “Good thing I insist on cleaning our own room. Else it might never get done.”

“Why do you insist?”

“The first night here, I caught one of them rifling through my underwear drawer. Can't have that,” she said. “How's your friend going to be?”

“I think she will be fine. Her vitals are strong. It was just a shock.”

“What was so shocking?” Emma said, cocking her head.

“I'm not sure of the precise thing,” he said, cautious of revealing too much. “It's just been overwhelming trying to find Maeve.”

“It must be scary,” she said. “If I can help, please let me know.”

Sanj liked this woman, so helpful and caring. Polite. And she was beautiful. He had to wonder what she saw in Mozingo. Maybe money? Though he didn't really buy into the cliché about beautiful woman and money. Or at least it hadn't been his experience.

“Thanks,” he said.

“So, um, I hope you don't mind my asking. Is this your girlfriend or is the other one?”

“Jennifer and I are friends,” he said.

“And this one?”

He sighed and looked at Sasha on the bed—her badly dyed brown hair against the white pillow. “I'm not sure what to call her. We've just met.”

“Well, she's lucky to have a guy like you interested in her,” she said.

“Oh?” Sanj said.

“Well, you're so caring. Not many men are as tender as you are with her right now,” she said wistfully.

“I am a physician,” he said. “I like to think I'm tender with all my patients.”

“If I know anything about men, and I do, she's way more than a patient to you.”

Sasha stirred. “Sanj,” she muttered.

“Yes, yes, I am here,” he said as Emma slipped out of the room.

She tried to sit up. “Ewww,” she said, then lay back down. “I must have hit my head.”

“Just a bit. You fell on a carpeted floor. Passed out, I mean.”

“You must . . . think I am a . . .”

“No worries,” Sanj said.

“You're wrong about that, Sanj,” she said, as if just finding her voice. She grabbed on to his hand. “If Snake has Maeve, he will kill her without a second thought.”

At first he thought she exaggerated, but her eyes told of a fear just about touchable in the room. Up until the phone call, Sanj had a slice of hope that Maeve was okay, that she had simply disappeared for a while. With each passing moment, it was sinking in. He began to sweat again as he mulled over the last few hours. The one way to ensure Maeve survived was to hand over Sasha. Of course, as the detective had pointed out on the way over in the car, that might not be the case. A man who would kidnap was not necessarily a man of his word. There had to be another way.

“Are you certain it's him?” Sanj asked.

Just then Jennifer's voice came from behind him as she entered the room.

“Do you know this guy?” Jennifer asked Sasha.

“I can't be certain,” Sasha said. “But it does sound like him. And José mentioned the name Snake.”

“It's the man I told you about, the man who wants to kill Sasha,” Sanj said, his voice cracking. He wondered if Jennifer would leap to the conclusion.

“Maybe it's you he wants,” Jennifer said, after a moment.

Jennifer was no slouch.

Sasha nodded. “As I told Sanj, I'm certain he will kill her unless we find her first.”

The words hung in the air of a tension-filled room.

Jennifer began pacing; Sanj helped Sasha to sit up. She ran her fingers through her hair as she glanced around the room, trying to get her bearings.

The room was large and darkening; the sun was setting in the clear sky. Jennifer reached down to flip on a lamp switch on a corner table.

“What is this?” she said, holding up a scarf.

“The woman of the house apologized because this room is so messy. They've been using it for storage.”

“No, that's not what I mean.” Her voice deadly serious.

“What's wrong?” Sanj moved toward her.

“This is Maeve's scarf.”

“What?” Sasha said, getting up from the bed.

“You can't know that,” Sanj said, incredulous. “Must be a million scarves like it.”

“No,” Sasha said. “It's handmade. I can see that from here.”

Jennifer's face paled. “Maeve's sister-in-law made it and her initials are right here.”

“Are you certain?”

Jennifer nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Better go and get the detective,” Sanj said, leaving Sasha and Jennifer alone in the room.