Not This Time (14 page)

With her permission, the FBI tapped her phone in case the kidnapper knew Sara was critical and called Beth instead. With the history between Robert and her, Beth couldn’t see that happening, but she’d rather be safe than sorry—even if she suspected tapping her phone was Jeff’s way of keeping tabs on her and her activities. His suspicion hurt. It shouldn’t; Joe was right. Jeff was just doing his job. But he was her friend, and his doubt about her character hurt.

She steeled against it, leaned back on the sofa, then adjusted a throw pillow under her head. In the morning, she would go to Crossroads and talk to Peggy. Working closely with the hospitals, odds were good she could find out the facts on Sara’s hospitalizations.

Beth’s mind reeled. Fuzzy snippets on a myriad of things flashed through her thoughts. To think clearly, she needed to rest.

“Beth?”

She opened her eyes and looked at Jeff, silhouetted in the soft lamplight. “Yes?”

“The FBI has assigned Roxy Talbot to Robert’s case. She’s finishing up her club attack analysis so others can take over. Until she’s freed up, I’m overseeing operations here and reporting them to her. You okay with that?”

“I’m fine with it.” So Homeland Security was taking over the club incident. Not good, not good. “Surprised the FBI assigned her. She’s involved.”

“I’m sure they have their reasons.”

“They do. She’s the utmost authority on NINA.” Beth waited, but Jeff just gave her a blank look that frustrated. “She worked the NINA cases, Jeff. Good grief, we were both there on Kelly and Lisa’s cases, working with her.”

He didn’t respond.

Someone had gagged Jeff on the matter.

“Can I sit with you for a second?” When she nodded, Jeff sat beside her. “It might be good to discuss handling the ransom call.”

Thank heaven
. Doing this without getting Robert killed would be fantastic. “Good idea—provided we get a ransom call.”

“They’re proving they’re in control and we’re not, but they went to too much trouble to snatch him not to call.” Jeff tugged at his left earlobe. “When they do, we want to maximize our odds for success.”

“You keep saying
they
. Do you have reason to believe it’s more than one person?”

“The profilers say it’s rarely one person. Logistics are harder, so if the stakes are high enough, it’s usually two or even a group.”

“The intent is to soak Robert and Sara, then?”

“We don’t know until they tell us, but prevailing thought is Sara’s vulnerable.”

She was, and the protective look in Jeff’s eyes took the edge off Beth’s annoyance with him. She nodded. “So we maximize our odds for success … how?”

“Without Sara, it’ll be tough. You’re most familiar with her and Robert, but with the bad blood between you and him, Roxy’s team thinks our best chance is for you to pose as Sara with the kidnappers.”

Surprise ruffled through her. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.” He lifted his eyebrows. “The kidnappers’ objective is to get money. If you’re not Sara, they’ll doubt getting it.”

“Especially from me,” she conceded. “I could tell them to just keep him. Is that what the team thinks?”

“It believes the kidnappers might, and that wouldn’t be good for Robert.”

It irked her, but Beth saw the wisdom in the team’s thoughts. “What if they know Sara, or they know she’s in the hospital?”

“Then they won’t call her. But they won’t want to just give up. They’ll call you.”

“But you just said—”

“You and Robert don’t get along, but you and Sara have been close most of your lives. You’ll protect him for her.” He laced his hands on his knees. “It depends on whether they call you or call her. If they call you, and there is a connection between the club attack and his kidnapping, NINA will know that too.”

Beth hated having her back shoved against this particular wall, but what choice did she have? “I don’t know much about him.” She shifted on her seat. “Robert is a private person, but he’s even more private with me.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jeff admitted. “That’s created tension between you and Sara.”

Beth stilled. He was interrogating her. Gently, but still interrogating her. And he’d clearly been talking to someone to know that much. Should she call a lawyer? She blinked, thought, blinked again. Why bother? Truth was truth.
Keep your mouth shut. Watch what you say. It’s amazing how twisted up things get
. “Yes.” More tension than the law should allow. “But Sara loves him.”

Understanding lit in his eyes. “What we endure for those we love is shocking, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

Sara’s home phone rang.

“Everybody pipe down. This could be it.” Jeff snatched up the receiver off the coffee table and checked his watch. “Monday, June seventh. Ten thirty a.m.,” he shouted out, then passed the receiver to Beth. “Wait until I tell you to answer.” He looked back over his shoulder to the desk where Kyle sat in front of a computer screen. “Say when, Kyle.”

Kyle keyed in something and then signaled with a lifted finger. “Go.”

Beth took the phone in both hands, shaking hard.
Please, don’t let me mess this up
.

It rang again and Jeff dipped his chin toward the phone. “Answer it, Beth.”

Blowing out a hard breath, she pushed the button to open the connection. “Hello.”

“Sara Tayton?”

The voice sounded mechanical. Definitely voice altered. Man or woman? She couldn’t tell. “Who is this?”

“You received the note?”

Beth’s skin crawled. Staring at Jeff, she went clammy. “Yes.”

“Then the FBI is there with you.”

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, she stayed silent.

“Insignificant. Go to the marina. Alone, Sara. On the lot west of it is a Dumpster. At its front right corner, dig down in the sand.”

Jeff signaled Kyle with a finger loop above his head to get people positioned there immediately. Beth was confused. “Dig for what?”

“Further instructions. If you want to see Robert alive again, follow them exactly.”

When something like this happened in a movie, Beth considered it melodramatic. But when it was real and happening to you, the threat chilled, rippled layers of fear through your whole body. “I want to talk to him. How do I know you have him or he’s not already dead? There was blood in his car.”

Silence.

Had she blown it? New fear heaped onto the old. Her heart slammed against her chest wall. It was a reasonable request. Who wouldn’t want proof? “Are you still there?”

No answer.

Oh God, please. Please tell me I didn’t blow this. Please
. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Listen to me. Are you listening to me? I need to know he’s okay.”

Still no answer.

She cast a worried look at Jeff, who gave her a reassuring nod and motioned her to keep talking. “I’ll do what you want, but first I have to talk to Robert.”

“Sara? Sara, it’s me.”

Robert
. Angst-ridden and clearly terrified, but definitely Robert. Awash in relief, Beth silently mouthed,
It’s him
. “Robert, are you hurt?”

He hesitated.

“Robert? Robert, are you there? Have they hurt you?”

“Do what they tell you,” he said in a rush. “I know you’re upset with me, Sara, but these people will kill me. Do what they say. You hear me? Do what they—”

The line went dead.

“Hey, bro.”

“Joe? Where are you?” Mark Taylor asked. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

“Best if you don’t know.” Joe looked up at Sacred Heart hospital. “What’s up?”

“Checking out a lead.”

He draped a hand over his Harley’s handlebars. “The missing groom clue is too obvious to miss.”

“How did you know? I didn’t tell you about that—Ah, Beth.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not convenient. Later.” Mark’s expelled sigh whistled his relief, crackling in Joe’s ear. “Spot your man yet?”

“Not yet.” And Joe wasn’t apt to spot him here—unless Masson had let NINA know he hadn’t expired in Louisiana at that fishing camp in Lisa’s human-trafficking case. If so, interesting strategic move. Could save his neck
or get him killed. With NINA, Joe wouldn’t bet a nickel either way. “How’s Beth holding up?”

“So you haven’t kept in touch?”

Joe shifted on his Harley’s seat, chewed a fresh piece of gum. “I have. She says she’s fine, but she’d say it regardless.”

“You’ve got her nailed. More than a passing interest …?”

“She’s the one. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s for later. Is she okay?”

“Seems to be holding up. I haven’t seen her since the kidnapper called. They gave
Sara
more instructions about ten thirty this morning.”

Beth posed as Sara. What was Roxy thinking? Jeff? Had they lost it, putting Beth in that danger? Fear streaked through Joe. That was it. He needed to infiltrate. Beth had no idea what she was facing. “She says Jeff suspects she’s involved in Tayton’s kidnapping.”

“Yeah. Roxy talked to him, but he says he had to hear it straight from Beth himself. I’m not sure why he’d consider her a person of interest, but …”

“Could be personal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Making her rely on him. He has a thing for her.”

“That’s been over for a long time.”

A muscle in Joe’s neck seized up. He rolled it to work out the kink. “For Beth, but what about for him?”

“I’ll mention it to Roxy, provided you’re sure she’s clean.”

Joe didn’t take offense. They’d both known too many who’d turned. “She’s clean.” Two nurses wearing scrubs crossed the parking lot and entered the hospital. “I’ll check in later, bro. Got to go.”

“Later.”

Joe disconnected the call and fired up the Harley. He should stop and change clothes. Riding his bike in formalwear at eleven in the morning wasn’t cool. But changing clothes could wait. Beth couldn’t.

He took off toward Seagrove Village.

Karl Masson arrived at Darla Green’s house on the cove and rang the doorbell with no idea what to expect.

A woman in her late fifties opened the door. She was squat with graying dark hair pulled back in a bun so tight it tugged the skin on her face taut. “Mr. Masson, come in, please.”

The woman’s Scottish brogue was thick and easily recognizable from his years in Europe. Karl nodded, a little disappointed. He’d hoped to know the identity of his ally in this house by who answered the door. Obviously that wasn’t happening.

He followed the maid straight through the heart of the grand house to the terrace. “Herself is expecting you. I’ve prepared a light lunch. If you’d rather have something else, just let me know.”

Herself?
Definitely not Tack Grady. Did the woman mean Darla or Raven? “That was thoughtful. Thank you.”

She opened a glass door that led outside. “To the right, sir.”

Karl walked outside, heard her footsteps behind him. It was a stellar view. A broad expanse of lawn and beyond it, the glistening cove water. The terrace table came into view. It was set for three with fine china—and empty of diners.

He turned back to the maid. “There’s no one here.”

“Ah, but there is. You just don’t see what’s before your eyes.” She turned aside, then back to face him.

“Darla?” Why was she posing as the maid? She’d gained some weight in jail—a gun in her hand snagged his full attention. He stiffened, reached for his shoulder holster, but before his arm cleared his suit jacket, she aimed and fired.

The force of the bullet knocked him back, off his feet. He landed on his back on the concrete, half-surprised he wasn’t already dead. He lifted his shaking hand and touched the area of his abdomen that burned like fire.
Bad. Gut wound
. He’d die here.

“Why?” He’d been devoted to NINA all his adult life. Taken the jobs no one else wanted, been Raven’s go-to guy. Spots formed before his eyes.
Weakening
.

She harrumphed. “You dare to let me think you were dead and then try to buy your way back in the organization with a mission?” Her voice sounded cold. Ruthless.

His children. He’d never again see his children …

“Dead Game is a good mission.” She sniffed. “So I took it. But I will not take you.”