Forever Alexa (Book Four In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (3 page)

Alexa studied the cell she’d been given, noting the full battery and three hundred minutes someone had put on the pre-paid phone. They had to have slipped it in her purse when they took Abby from the car. What other explanation was there? Whoever did this planned Abby’s abduction carefully, of this she had no doubt. Whoever took Abby knew Alexa’s name, what she drove, and more than likely that she was a single mother home alone in the small house in the woods.

She rushed to her door, shut it, and shoved the solid oak dresser in front of it. No one was getting in there with the heavy antique furniture in place. Despite her efforts to reassure herself, she grabbed the baseball bat she kept under her bed. She clutched the Louisville Slugger close as she sat on the mattress and leaned against the headboard, staring at her sister’s picture, listening to every creak as the old house settled around her, until the sun’s rays brightened the morning sky.

Did he think she didn’t
know
that? Each month was a struggle to stay afloat financially, but they were making it. As the last of her hope withered away, Alexa closed her eyes and took a deep breath against another torrent of tears. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mr. Macabee what the money was for. Surely he would find a way. He’d known her and Abby for as long as she could remember, but she didn’t dare. The kidnappers said no one.

She glanced at Livy coloring in the Dora activity book she’d brought along. “Can you run my numbers again? There has to be something...”

Mr. Macabee’s pudgy, lined face sagged as he sighed and took her hand. “Alexa, it won’t do any good. If there were any way, I’d walk into that vault and hand it over right now. I may work and live in a small town, but I have my suspicions as to what this money’s for, honey.”
She gripped his hand tight and evaded his gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Honey, this isn’t the way. Even if I could give you the cash, it wouldn’t guarantee Abby’s safe return. After you hand it over, they may very well ask for more.”

Her fingers went lax and she pulled away. “I need her back, Mr. Macabee. I can hardly breathe without her.” The heavy weight of living without Abby, of letting her down, was almost more than she could stand. She’d always taken care of her sister; she’d always taken care of everything. Gran’s Rheumatoid arthritis had worsened rapidly, disfiguring much of her body, not giving Alexa much of a choice, but she’d never minded. Gran had given them a safe haven from her mother’s mental illness.

“Stay in contact with the police, honey. Give them time to do their job. Don’t give up hope. We’re all praying so hard for Abby’s safe return.”

Nodding, Alexa struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. She stood up. “Please keep this between us. They might—they might…” She looked at Livy, unable to let herself think about what the kidnappers might do to Abby.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Alexa gathered up crayons and shoved them in the box. She couldn’t be here anymore. She wanted to lash out at Mr. Macabee, to yank him up by his over-starched collar and demand what she’d come for. He had piles of money just sitting in his vault, stacks of stupid green paper that could save her sister’s life, yet he refused. “Livy, honey, it’s time to go.”

“Okay, Mommy. Do you like my picture?”

Alexa crouched down, fighting to be in the moment with her little girl. She had to keep herself together for Livy. Everything had to stay as normal as possible. As much as she wanted to fall apart, she would never do to her daughter what her mother had done to her and Abby. “I definitely do. You did such a nice job staying in the lines. We should put this on the fridge when we get home.”

Livy gave her a huge grin. Her father’s grin.

“We’ll tuck this away for now.” Alexa closed the coloring book and put it in the small canvas bag. “Come on.” She held out her hand, and Livy took it.

“I’m hungry. I want peanut butter and jelly for lunch.”

They were low on bread, peanut butter, jelly, and everything else for that matter. They had to go to the store. Her sister was missing, but Alexa had to struggle to keep up with life as it continued to move on. “We need to stop off at the grocery store. You can be my helper.”

“I’m a very good helper.”

“Yes, you are. The best.” Alexa walked out of Mr. Macabee’s office and stopped. News vans and eager reporters waited on the steps outside the glass doors. Damn. They weren’t supposed to
know
. How did they find her? Did they follow her here? The phone calls had started early in the morning. Now this.

Mr. Macabee stepped up behind her. “Alexa, honey, why don’t you go out the back door? Give me your keys. Meet me down the block. We’ll get you out of here.”

Anger still coursed through her as she faced him, but that would do nothing for Abby. He was willing to help her avoid the press. She would take what little help he offered and find another way to come up with the funds the kidnappers were demanding. How to do that was the big question. The dread of not finding an answer in time curdled her stomach and sent her pulse pounding. “Thank you.” She handed him her keys and concentrated on keeping her hand steady as her heart rate continued to soar. Picking up Livy, she hurried out the back door and rushed down the alley toward Old Main Street. She shoved her sunglasses in place and looked down, oblivious to the charm of the small town she’d always loved, avoiding eye contact with anyone she might know.

Within moments, Mr. Macabee showed up in her car, slowed down, and pulled to the curb. “They’re full of questions, Alexa. They want this story. They might be able to help you,” he said as he rounded the front.

Alexa opened the back door for Livy to crawl in to her booster. She leaned forward and buckled her daughter in. “I can’t talk to them. Thank you again, Mr. Macabee.” Alexa hurried to the driver’s side as she looked down the street, watching one of the reporters watch her. “I have to go.” She got in and drove off quickly.

As she made her way to the local grocer, Alexa glanced in her rearview mirror and relaxed a fraction when she saw no one was following. She yearned to turn around and go to the press, to beg for any help they were willing to give, but after the phone call last night she didn’t dare. She couldn’t afford to be seen anywhere near a reporter.

She and Livy would hurry through the store and get what they needed, then go home and lock out the world. She wanted to check in with Detective Canon and find a way to come up with the money.

Alexa took a right into the shopping plaza and pulled into a parking spot as close to the entrance as possible. She glanced around before she opened her door. The coast was still clear. She opened the back door. “Come on, sweetie, let’s—”

“Excuse me, Ms. Harris. I’m Michael Pearson with News Twelve. Can I ask you a few questions about your sister’s disappearance?” One of News Twelve’s top anchormen ran toward her from the van that had screeched to a stop next to her car.

Alexa glanced into his hungry brown eyes as she pulled a blanket from the backseat and covered Livy’s head. Then she scooped her little girl into her arms and hurried toward the door.

“Ms. Harris, can you think of any reason why someone would want to take your sister?”

Alexa quickened her pace as she tucked her face closer to Livy’s head, hidden by the soft pink fleece.

“Was Abigail seeing anyone recently?”

“Ms. Harris isn’t answering questions at this time,” a man said as an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Startled, Alexa whipped her gaze up to the vaguely familiar voice. Doug Masterson, a blast from her past.

Doug ushered her into the store, grabbed a cart, and stopped when they stood well away from the windows in the produce aisle. His dark brown hair had thinned a bit, but he was still in excellent shape.

“Doug, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I saw you get out of the car and watched that guy swarm in on you like the vulture he is. I heard about your troubles, Alexa. I’m sorry for it.”

She glanced down as so many memories came crashing back, colliding with the hell of her present. “Thanks. I’m hoping they’ll find my sister soon.”

“We received the BOLO up in Pittsburg late yesterday afternoon. I was on duty. We’re all keeping our eye out.”

“I appreciate it.” She wanted to tell him about the ransom demand and the phone she kept in her purse, to beg for his help, but she stayed silent as people she saw every day sent her curious glances from sympathetic eyes. No risking Abby. Afraid she might break her own rule, she blurted out the first question that popped into her mind. “What brings you down to Hagerstown?”

“My wife’s family lives in Baltimore. We stopped off for a couple of things.”

Alexa couldn’t help but smile. Doug Masterson, Jack’s old college roommate and notorious player. He’d graduated the year before her. It felt like years ago, but really it wasn’t that many.

“I haven’t seen Jackson in some time. Haven’t talked to him either. You two keep in touch?”

Her heart clenched. “Uh, no.”

“I see you have yourself a little one here.” Doug tugged at the blanket as Olivia yanked the fabric from her head, grinning. Doug’s smile brightened for a moment, then faded.

Alexa struggled not to turn, put Livy in the cart, and move away from the questions in Doug’s eyes. “We should probably get to our shopping. It was nice to see you again, Doug. Thanks for the help.” She set Livy in the back of the cart and waited for her daughter to sit on her bottom.

“Alexa…”

She turned and met his shocked stare, knowing he recognized Olivia’s sharply arched brows, dark blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and full mouth with a hint of cupids bow.

“I had no idea. He never said—”

“I need to go, Doug.” She started toward the grapes.

“He’s not in Pittsburg anymore.”

Alexa stopped.

“He moved out to LA three years ago. He works for some fancy bodyguard firm now—Evan Cooke Security or something like that.” He shrugged. “Just so you know.”

“Thanks. Goodbye, Doug.” She turned again, struggling to put the past away—where it belonged.

Alexa stared out the living room window, watching the sun hover closer to the mountains in the distance. The deep country dark would soon surround her house. The dread of another long, sleepless night tightened the muscles of her shoulders and jaw until they ached. She eyed the Louisville Slugger, now leaning against the side table, as she listened to Olivia’s happy chatter filling the small space. Livy and her dolls were enjoying the tiny glass teapot Alexa had filled with milk, the apple she had quartered, and the graham crackers she set out for an impromptu after-dinner tea party.

“Mommy, come play with us. You can sit by Lucy.”

Alexa turned and gave Livy what smile she could. “Maybe in a little while, sweetie.”

“The graham cracker is very yummy.” Livy held up the golden half of cookie, dangling it like a token bribe, before she took a big bite.

“It looks wonderful, but I have more work to do on the computer.”

Livy turned back to her life-sized baby doll and bit Lucy’s cracker too as the party began again.

Alexa desperately wanted to join in on the fun but couldn’t. There wasn’t time. She had just over twenty-four hours to collect an unattainable amount of money. Sighing, she twisted the blind closed and turned away from the window, wishing the media vans were still parked along the dirt road out front. At least someone would’ve been close by while she waited for daylight again. The fifteen-car pile up on I-81 North sent the reporters and their news crews scattering several hours before. The knocks at the door had ceased. Abby’s disappearance had already been forgotten, and she had no choice but to keep it that way.

Alexa glanced at Livy before she sat down to the laptop she’d left on the coffee table. She’d spent the last two hours researching ransom and hostage situations while dodging non-stop phone calls from concerned friends, co-workers, and of course the press. She’d let the answering machine pick them up until the message box was full. She couldn’t deal with the questions.

She stared at the article she’d read before she had to put the computer down and walk away. The information had been so troubling, so depressing, she’d had to stop. The odds of Abby coming home were dwindling with every minute passing. Mr. Macabee had been correct; if she could get the money and pay the ransom, the kidnappers were likely to demand more and kill her sister anyway.