Murphy's Law (22 page)

Murphy scrubbed a hand over his face.
“No.”

“Let’s focus on what we do know,” Noah
said. “Rogan, give us a map with estimated distance she can travel on the money
she has. That will give us a search grid. Also, pull up everything you can on…”
He looked at Murphy. “Stephen Benchley?”

Murphy nodded.

“I’m on it,” the surfer-looking guy said
and sprinted back to the chopper.

“Worse case scenario,” Noah continued.
“We track them back to Chicago. It’s the grandmother who wants Abby, so we know
where they are headed.”

Yeah, they wanted Abby, but not Sara.
That was what had him worried.

“What about a cell phone? Does Sara have
one?” Attie asked.

“No.” She had no one to call.

“No family to go to, right?”

Murphy shook his head at Attie’s frown.
Sara was alone and he’d let her go. He hadn’t expected her to run from him. She
still didn’t trust him to protect her.

“Okay, here’s what we have,” Rogan said
approaching and carrying a sleek laptop. He set it on the hood of Murphy’s SUV
and pointed at the grid on the screen. “She should be within the area shaded in
red.”

“Question is, which state is she in?”
Gabe murmured. “Murphy? Anything that can help narrow down the search?”

“She’ll pick the cheapest, most remote
motel to stay in,” he said. “My guess, she’ll only use enough money to get her
out of state, then she’ll try and find a car.”

Rogan typed on the computer. “Looks like
we’ve only got five cheap motels in the bordering states. Two are dirt cheap
and probably not a place for a woman alone--sorry.” He pulled up two websites.
“One in Montana, one in Minnesota.”

Minnesota was closer to Illinois.
Montana, farther away. She wouldn’t run toward the Benchleys. “Montana.”

Noah nodded. “Okay. Gabe, you’re
driving. Rogan, pull up that address. Give us the shortest route.”

“Done,” Rogan said and they piled into
Gabe and Murphy’s vehicles. The pilot climbed into the SUV with him.

Murphy wondered as he pulled onto the
road if he’d made the right choice. God, he hoped so.

Chapter
18

“What is going on? Can you tell me why a
Sheriff Tomes from Colorado is calling?”

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose,
girding himself for his mother’s anger. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,
Mother.” Just how much had Sara told Jon Murphy? There was no other way he
could be connected to the crime. He knew how to cover his tracks. In his line
of work, he couldn’t risk anything coming back to the family. The only way the
sheriff could have gotten his name was through Sara’s guard.

Let them investigate. They wouldn’t find
any evidence to tie him to the death.

“Nothing to worry about?” Mother
repeated, voice tight. “Have you any idea what kind of trouble your absence is
causing?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I need you back here. Marcello was
arrested this morning.”

A chill ran down his spine. Why had no
one called to tell him? “What for?”

“Racketeering. Among other things.”

Marcello was in jail and they wanted him
to get him out. To take his brother’s place. Knowing full well he wasn’t his
brother and had spent very little time in the courtroom. It wasn’t what he was
good at.

He stared at the sleazy motel through the
windshield. Why couldn’t he have the best of both worlds? Sara was fifty feet
away. He could put on a suit again. What if he brought Abby to Mother, picked
up Kent’s torch, and saved the day? He would be untouchable. Mother would
revere him, Marcello would be indebted to him. He would be the hero. For the
first time in his life it would be him on top. He would be the one everyone
looked up to instead of his brother.

“I want you here now. I will have
someone else bring my granddaughter home. Your duty is here.”

“That won’t be necessary, mother. I’ll
be there in a few hours. With your granddaughter,” he said.

Silence. “You have Abby?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Another moment of silence. “You’ve made
me proud, son. Bring her to me. Oh, and Stephen?”

He sat up straighter. His mother had
never said those words to him before and he knew they didn’t come easy. “Yes,
mother?”

“You’ve done right by the family. Now,
move quickly. We don’t have time to waste.”

Feeling the urge to preen, he clicked
off and tossed his cell phone on the dashboard. Kent may have been the golden
boy, but he’d disgraced the family when he died. Stephen was smarter than his
brother had been. He knew how to play the game. This time it would be him
carrying the family name.

About damn time.

To stay in Mother’s good graces, he
needed to move fast. Which meant snatching Abby, but letting Sara go. If he
brought her back with them, Mother would never forgive him. He would lose the
ground he’d just gained. Sara would have to wait until he’d dealt with Marcello.
Then, he would find her and finish this. Get her out of his system and out of
their lives forever. After that, it was smooth sailing for him.

And he knew just where he was going.
Straight to the top. Higher and bigger than his brother ever had. Kent hadn’t
been smart enough to set goals. Stephen was. He wouldn’t be the lapdog forever.

No, he would be top dog.

This was working out better than he’d
ever thought possible. With a smug grin, he climbed out of the car and headed
for the motel.

* * * *

Sara opened her eyes slowly, groggy, but
not as exhausted as she’d been when she lay down. She wanted to keep moving,
but decided a nap was the best thing if she planned on traveling any more
today. The stress of lying awake last night, preparing herself for leaving,
Abby’s tantrum, the misery she felt in doing this to her again, and traveling
half the night had taken its toll.

Glancing at the clock on the bedside
table she saw she’d been asleep for two hours. Rolling over, she reached for
Abby and bolted upright when she didn’t find her. Frantic, she flew out of bed
and ran to the bathroom. Empty.

Heart pounding, she turned a circle in
the small, shabby room. Breathe. This wasn’t the time to panic. She couldn’t
have gone far. Maybe to the pop machine for a drink. No, she knew better than
to go out alone. She wouldn’t do that. Not without Sara hearing her leave.
She’d been tired, but not too tired to hear her daughter get out of bed and
leave the room.

But, she had.

Running to the door she threw it open
and ran outside, warm summer air hitting her full in the face. Barefoot, she
hurried down the uneven wooden porch and around the corner to where the pop
machine sat in an alcove. Her heart pounded in earnest when she found it empty.

Spinning in a circle, Sara bit down on
her lip. Holding her panic at bay she went to the office and stepped inside,
standing behind an elderly couple checking in. Once they were done, she
approached the manager, who stared back at her with a bored expression.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The last thing she needed was to involve
outsiders, so she mentally searched for an excuse to be there. “Um,” she said,
running a hand over her tousled hair. “Could I get another towel?”

“Sorry, laundry isn’t done.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” With that she turned
and rushed out the door. Breathing hard, she searched the parking lot and
around back of the motel. By time she returned to her room she fought an
anxiety attack.

Closing the door, Sara leaned against
it, pressing a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. Where was her daughter? Her
eyes landed on the bed where she’d slept only a few hours ago, longing to see
her small form nestled beneath the covers. But, she wasn’t there. Her doll,
however, was.

Sara pushed off the door and walked
slowly to the bed. Sinking down on the edge, she picked up the doll. Abby never
went anywhere without it. Ever.

Something dark and terrifying settled
over her. She stroked a hand over the matted braids. Abby never would have gone
anywhere without her doll. Not voluntarily.

Terror gripped her heart like a fist,
followed by fury. This was no accident. With a strangled cry, she rose from the
bed and grabbed her suitcase.

They wouldn’t get away with this. She’d
stood by far too long and let the Benchleys control her life. It was time for
her to fight for her daughter. This time she wasn’t backing down.

* * * *

Murphy opened the door to the motel room
with a rusted number six dangling on it, his heart pounding. The manager said
it was vacant, but he had to know for sure. Had to know if Sara had been here.
She’d registered under a different name, but the description the manager gave
him left little doubt in his mind it was her.

The room was empty, the bed made, just
as the manager said it would be. But her scent lingered, he could smell it
beneath the cheap cleaning agents. He imagined Sara lying in the single bed
with Abby, scared and alone, convincing herself she’d done the right thing.

Chest tight, Murphy turned to the men
behind him and said, “We just missed her.”

“The manager said she left in a hurry,”
Gabe said. “But he never said anything about Abby.”

Murphy met his gaze. “No, he didn’t.”

“Maybe she was in the cab already,”
Attie said.

“Or maybe she wasn’t with her at all,”
Murphy said with a low curse. “I need to talk to that manager again.”

He started to brush past Gabe, but he
stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Why don’t you let me do that.”

Murphy could read between the lines. He
wasn’t in the mood to be civil.

“Gabe’s right. If Abby wasn’t with Sara
we’ll find out,” Noah said.

Murphy’s gut told him what had happened
and he didn’t like it. If Stephen Benchley took Abby, then why didn’t he take
Sara too?

Minutes later, his suspicions were
confirmed. Sara had gotten into the cab alone.

“Got an address,” Rogan said, typing on
his laptop.

Noah glanced at Murphy, who nodded,
already striding toward his SUV. He knew exactly where Abby was and where Sara
was going. She thought herself a coward, but when it came to her daughter he
knew she would move heaven and Earth to protect her.

He only hoped he got there in time to
protect Sara.

* * * *

Sara turned Abby’s doll over in her
hands, clenching and unclenching it. As long as she was holding it, she felt
close to her daughter. Her stomach churned at the thought of Abby back in that
house without her. Chelsea loved her granddaughter, but her ideas about how she
should be raised didn’t match Sara’s, and Abby was the one who suffered those
ideals. And now, she suffered them without Sara there to intervene.

Pushing the dark thoughts away, Sara
smoothed a hand over the doll’s soft hair. She really didn’t have a plan for
facing Chelsea, but she wasn’t backing down.

Her hand caught on the doll’s neck.
Frowning, Sara ran a finger over a small tear in the seam. Some of the stuffing
was sticking out, so she gently pushed it back in. Her finger hit something
hard. Carefully, she dug inside and pulled it out.

“What on Earth?” she murmured, turning
the small, silver box over in her hand. She wasn’t a computer whiz, but she
knew a flash drive when she saw one. Kent had saved all of his business files
on them, not trusting computers to hold the data.

This looked like one of his.

And he had given the doll to Abby…

Leaning forward, Sara said to the
driver, “I need to get to a computer. Is there a town nearby?”

Thirty minutes later, Sara sat in the
library of a small town called Newton just off the freeway. Eyes glued to the
screen, she watched data upload on the ancient monitor, heart beating like a
drum. Definitely one of Kent’s flash drives. He must have put it inside the
doll before he gave it to Abby.

But, why?

Why would he hide such important,
damning evidence inside a child’s toy?

Most of what she found was technical
jargon she didn’t understand. But she could tell this wasn’t meant to see the
light of day. It would, however, ruin the Benchleys. Kent included, if he’d
been alive to see it happen.

Stunned, Sara leaned back in the chair.
She held the key to getting her daughter back forever. And Kent had given it to
her.

“Oh, Kent,” she whispered. He’d one this
on purpose. He’d wanted her to find it someday. To break open the criminal
activities his family was involved in.

He’d wanted her to save him.

He might have done this as a spontaneous
act he was known for, but deep down wanted the truth to be uncovered so he didn’t
have to live the lie anymore. Maybe he wanted to live free as she did. But, he
would never get that chance.

Unless she did what he could never do.

Tears filled her eyes. She may not have
been able to save him while they were married, but she could now. She would
save his daughter from the same fate.

“I’m sorry, Kent,” she whispered,
removing the flash drive and wrapping it in her hand. “I won’t let you down
this time.”

* * * *

Sara shuddered as she looked around her.
She would rather be thrown in prison than be back here. The Benchleys’
three-story mansion loomed just behind the iron gates, daring her to go inside.

Gathering her courage, she stepped in
front of the camera and waited. A minute later the gates opened and she walked
through, heart pounding against her ribs. A tall man strode down the driveway
toward her. She recognized Chelsea’s security expert immediately.

“Hello, Ray,” she said as he approached
and started patting her down. Her suitcase was confiscated along with her
purse.

The stony-faced guard didn’t return her
greeting, but motioned for her to precede him into the house.

Here goes, she thought, taking the first
step toward her freedom, the flash drive tucked safely in her pocket. With
every step she took, she felt closer to Abby. She couldn’t wait to see her, to
hold her. To walk out of here forever with her daughter in her arms.

Her steps quickened as they approached
the house. By the time she pushed into the foyer, she was breathless with
anticipation. She half expected to see Chelsea waiting for her, but the foyer
was empty.

“Where’s my daughter?”

Ray closed the door behind him. “Wait
here.” He walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

No way she was waiting there. Taking the
carpeted stairs to the second floor, she ran to Abby’s room and burst inside.
Only to find the room empty and exactly how they’d left it six months ago.

“She’s not here,” someone said behind
her.

Sara turned slowly to face Chelsea, who
stood still as a statue in the doorway, her tailored suit hugging her tall,
slim frame. She hadn’t changed one bit, not that Sara had expected her to.
Chelsea paid dearly to stop the hands of time. A starkly beautiful woman, but
beauty was only skin-deep. Inside, she was a viper. Today her dark hair was
swept back in a chic twist. Her green eyes glittering dangerously.