Abducted Heart (Z-Series) (11 page)

She nodded and turned toward the window, spotting the cemetery up ahead. She was going to have to stay strong until this was over, and she could do that as long as she didn't go anywhere near her family's plot.

*

Lynch knew something besides this delivery was bothering Casey, but he was afraid to ask. She had distanced herself from him since the phone call the night before, and he wasn't about to make things worse.

“We'll be right behind you. Zack will be to your right, me to your left.”

His words made the color in her face drain away. “What's wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I'm just nervous.”

Casey was lying to him, but this wasn't the time to call her on it. She had enough on her mind.

“Do you know where this mausoleum is?”

“Yes,” she said, looking off to the left, not to the middle where he remembered that particular landmark was located. He and a few of his friends used to come out here on hot summer evenings and try and scare each other to death. They'd been run out by security every time.

Lynch looked back at Casey, who was fidgeting from one foot to the other.

“Are you going to be able to do this, Casey?”

She nodded. “I'm going in.”

Lynch watched her zigzag around the first tier of plots, then tipped his head to Zack, signaling him to take off. Lynch shot down a row of above ground graves, staying low and out of sight.

He continued toward the middle of the cemetery, knowing when Casey made it to the mausoleum, he'd need to stay sharp. Brent was going to try something—he could feel it in his bones.

He peered ahead and caught sight of his target, the granite structure, the most impressive piece of masonry he'd ever seen. This cemetery had been used numerous times in movies for the stonework alone. The place dated back hundreds of years, and some of New Orleans’s most prominent residents had been buried here. He'd heard the place took a real hit with Katrina, but volunteers had worked hard to restore the cemetery to its splendor.

Lynch tucked himself behind a large headstone and watched Casey near the door to the mausoleum. She ducked inside the building, then quickly returned and glanced around her.

He pulled his Glock from the band of his pants and scanned the area. He didn't see anything.

Lynch moved around the stone, watching for anything out of place. As he did, his foot hit something and he almost tripped. He quickly caught hold of the top of the headstone, the name on the front making him draw back.

What the hell
?

A scream had him scrambling to get to Casey. She wasn't where she'd been in front of the building.

His eyes darted around.

Nothing. No Casey.

She'd just vanished.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Casey struggled to free herself from her confines, the rope wrapped around her wrists cutting into the skin. She flinched and fought tears pooling in her eyes. Why hadn't Lynch found her yet? She wasn't sure exactly where she was, but she was certain she was still in the cemetery.

As she'd waited outside the mausoleum, someone had grabbed her from behind, placed a strange smelling cloth over her mouth, and she'd lost consciousness.

When she woke, she found herself lying on cold stone, in the dark, a small stained-glass window her only light, her hands and feet bound. How long she'd been there, she had no idea.

She knew whoever grabbed her was coming back since the bag of money sat next to the door, taunting her.

Casey needed to get out of here.

She twisted her wrists against the rope, refusing to let the pain distract her. She had to break free before this guy returned or she'd be joining the occupants of this crypt.

A noise from outside stopped her heart. Was it the kidnapper? Was he here to kill her? If he did end her life in this crypt, she could be in here for months before anyone found her, and by then, she'd be unrecognizable.

The thought made her panic.

She rubbed the rope against her backside, thinking she'd try and work it down over her hands.

The door creaked open, and a dark figure started toward her.

Casey held her breath, terror taking hold. She was going to die. She might as well resign herself to the fact now. The psychic’s words echoed in her head.
Betrayal
. Only one person could evoke that now.

The man moved closer, and Casey stared up into the eyes of her husband.

Lynch indeed had it all figured out.

“Why aren't you surprised to see me?” he asked, studying her face.

“Lynch told me everything.”

Brent's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He found the insurance policies. He knows this was an elaborate ruse to kill me for money. I guess the ransom was just a bonus.”

“Who else knows?”

“Your father, for one.”

His face turned dark with fury. “Why did you have to bring him into all this?”

“Why did you gamble away so much money, Brent?” Casey was still working at the ropes at her wrist. The only way to save herself was to get free.

He shrugged. “I got caught up in it. Once I was behind, I kept thinking next time I'd score. That payout never came.”

“So you thought stealing money from your company was the answer?”

He looked surprised that she knew that part, as well.

“Harrah's refused to let me inside the building without giving them some of what I owed. I'd already tapped our accounts, and my father as well. I had no choice.”

“You had a choice, Brent, and you know it.”

“Right. Little Miss Perfect. Except you aren't perfect, are you, Casey?”

She turned away. She didn't want to get into this with him. “What are you planning to do, Brent?”

He smiled. “I plan to take the money you got from your daddy and leave the country. I could live quite nicely in Mexico for a long time.”

“What about me? I assume by telling me where you're going that you're not planning to let me live?”

He shook his head. “I don't have to kill you, Casey. I just have to leave you here. You'll last maybe a few days without water.”

Tears filled Casey's eyes. The man standing before her was evil. Pure and simple. But why? What made Brent the way he was today? Alex certainly had nothing to do with it, but what about his mother? She'd always given Casey the creeps.

“How do you think your parents will feel about this? Alex knows you were going to kill me for money. What about your mother?”

His eyes widened. This was a subject she and Brent never discussed because the man would always change the subject. “Why don't you ever talk about her?”

“Shut up. I don't need this.”

“What did your mother do, Brent?”

“Nothing,” he snapped then started to pace the floor.

Clearly the subject made him agitated. But why would the woman who gave birth to him upset him so much? Could she have possibly caused what had triggered Brent to become the clear sociopath he was today?

*

Lynch and Zack had scoured the place from one end of the cemetery to the other. Lynch couldn't believe how easily Casey had just disappeared. Literally in the blink of an eye. Or in his case a trip over a headstone. A granite monument he was still baffled about.

“What are we going to do now?” Zack crossed his arms over his chest. “It's almost dark.”

“We need to check the crypts. She has to be inside one. No way could Brent have dragged her out of here without us seeing.”

“I'll go back to the car and get a flashlight.” Zack started for the entrance to the cemetery, and Lynch took in a ragged breath.
Where are you, Casey
?

He had to find her. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't.

Something the psychic said came rushing back.
Remember the angel
? What had she meant by that?

Now he was grasping at straws.

With a sigh, he took off down a row of plots, stopping at the large mausoleums to see if the doors were unlocked. As he neared the center where Casey had vanished, off to his right he saw a crypt that had a carved woman with large billowing wings.
An angel
.

This is crazy
. That woman was a fake. There was no truth to anything she said. Except when she mentioned that Casey was in trouble, and that he knew it.

“You find something?” Zack's question had Lynch sucking in a ragged breath.

“This might be crazy, I know, but remember what that so-called psychic said? Remember the angel?”

Zack looked blankly at him. “Not really, but okay.”

Lynch pointed toward the monument.

His friend looked at the structure. “There's no harm in checking.”

The two took off at a fast pace, then walked up to the door.

Zack flipped on the flashlight.

Lynch placed his hand on the handle and turned, surprised when it opened. “Give me that.” He took the light from Zack and stepped inside, shining the beam around the room.

A movement caught his eye and he stepped over to the left-hand corner. He streamed the light down and there on the floor, a gag in her mouth, her arms and legs tied, was Casey.

Lynch let out a relieved breath and dropped down to work the cloth from her mouth.

“Lynch,” she said, her eyes filled with tears.

“Are you hurt?” He ran his hands over her body.

“I don't think so.”

Lynch untied her hands and feet, then helped her up.

“What happened? One second you were there, then you were gone.”

“You were right. It was Brent. He took the money and said he was going to Mexico. He planned to leave me in here to die.”

Lynch hissed. “I'm going to find the bastard and kill him.”

“He's not worth it, Lynch. Just let him go. Let the men he stole from find him.”

“No. I'm going to see that your husband pays for what he's done. You let him go off to Mexico and you might never see him again.”

“How are you going to find him?”

“Zack, I want you to take Casey home. I'm going to the airport. I suspect he'll be trying to book a flight now that he's got cash.”

Casey grasped his forearm. “Take me with you, Lynch.”

“No. You've had enough excitement for one day. Let's get to the car. We don't have time to spare. Brent will probably catch the first flight he can get, even if it's headed in the wrong direction.”

Close to Bourbon Street, Zack dropped Lynch off, and he waved a cab. On the way to the airport he had a chance to think about the psychic’s prediction. It had to have been one. If the woman was right about the angel, what about all the other things she'd said? What about that headstone? Had it just been a coincidence, or did Casey have something she needed to tell him?

“We're here,” the driver said, startling him back to what he had to do. Find Brent and wring his frickin' neck.

Lynch paid the fare and jumped out, racing through the terminal doors. Inside, he glanced at the departure and arrival boards. From what he could tell, no flight was leaving for another twenty minutes.

He took off toward the ticket windows, hoping he'd get lucky and spot Brent booking his flight.

All the major airlines had long lines, yet he didn't see anyone who could be Brent in disguise.

“Dammit all to hell,” he said, drawing two elderly women's attention who stood in front of him. They shook their heads and turned away.

For all Lynch knew, Brent could already be waiting on a plane.

He stalked toward the gates, stopping before he entered airport security. No way could he go in. Not with the Glock tucked behind his jacket, or no ticket.

Lynch was forced to turn around. Talk about a wild goose chase.

Feeling defeated, he started for the exit, his anger taking hold. Brent was going to leave town, and Casey would be left to clean up his mess. All his debt was hers. An impending divorce didn't excuse that. She'd be paying for the rest of her life. Unless she went to her father for help, and he knew she wasn't likely to do that. Not when she already owed him a large chunk of cash.

He glanced over at the shop where he'd gotten his coffee when he arrived in town and did a double-take.

Brent was sitting in a booth, his head lowered.

Lynch walked toward him. Let him try and make a scene. How was he going to explain all the cash he carried?

“Hello, step-brother,” Lynch said in a hushed tone.

Brent looked up and his eyes widened, then darted around. He was hoping for an escape. Just let him try.

Lynch slid into the seat across from him.

“Surprised to see me?”

“When did you get into town?”

“Saturday, I believe. Right after Casey called me to say you'd been kidnapped. Can you believe she was worried about your abductor killing you? She thought I could help.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I just got back from out of town myself.”

“Really? Where were you?”

He shifted in his seat. “I had to fly to St. Louis on business.”

“Is that right? Strange, your secretary never mentioned that when I was there the other day.”

“It was an unscheduled trip.”

“I see. While I have you here, I wanted to ask, what's with all those insurance policies you have on your wife? It was weird since I couldn't find a single one on you.”

“I had to cash mine in.”

“Why is that? To pay for Janette's services or to gamble at Harrah's?”

“Fuck you, Lynch. I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you or anyone else.”

Lynch smiled. “How about to the police?”

The man's face drained of color. “This is a family thing. I expect you to keep it as such.”

Lynch burst out laughing, drawing stares from the people sitting around them. “That's funny. Especially since when I was actual family, you acted as if I was scum. Do you remember that?”

“Look where you came from. Your father was a real winner, wasn't he, dear brother?” His words were said with such venom, it shocked Lynch.

“I wasn't my father, and you know it. You, along with a number of prominent people in your community, made sure that neither me nor my mother felt welcome.”