Found Wanting (32 page)

Drawing back, he was still smiling, and his gaze locked on hers as he gave her a sweet smile. "And just so we're clear, Addy: Your sister was no virgin when she fucked my brains out. Believe me, she could have taught you a thing or two."

When he walked out, Addison stood, paralyzed by disbelief.

* * *

Alaina lowered herself to a fallen tree, dejected. She'd lost track of Mitch almost immediately after picking up his trail through the woods. His strides had been too fast and long for her to match without giving away her presence. Now, she'd wandered around for at least three hours, searching for something, anything, that looked familiar. Nothing did, of course, because she'd never seen any of it before.

Frustration swelled in her chest, and she wanted to scream, to pound the ground with her fists. She was at Mitch's mercy, just like she'd been at her father's mercy so many years before.

Suddenly, she was seventeen again, six months shy of high school graduation, and her dream had come true in the form of a letter from Juilliard inviting her to audition for admission. She'd been sitting on her bed, her violin resting on her lap, the invitation on the bed beside her.

The thought of an audition at the prestigious school scared her to death ... and gave her chills of anticipation. If she was accepted, certainly her father would have to acknowledge that playing the violin, being a musician, was what she was born to do.

She was reaching for the phone to call her boyfriend, Michael, to tell him the good news when her father walked into her bedroom. It irked her that he never knocked, but then she saw the look on his face, and braced herself.

He didn't speak for a long time, just stared down at her with his dark, dark eyes, as if daring her to squirm. Everything about him screamed authority. His suit was expensive and tailored, its fit on his trim body perfect. His short hair, dark brown and only recently salted with gray at the temples, was combed the same way every day, very neatly to one side. She had never seen him run a hand through it. His teeth, straight and white, rarely showed in a smile.

"Your mother told me your news," he said in a deep baritone that resembled a rumble when he was angry.

She nodded, holding her breath, praying he wouldn't react the way she expected him to.

"You should have consulted with me before applying to that school."

Hopes dashed, she squared her shoulders and set her beloved violin aside. "I really want to do this, Dad."

"You don't deserve to do it, Alaina. Your grades aren't good. You're in trouble every time I turn around. What makes you think I'm going to let you go to school away from home?"

"You make it sound like I'm a delinquent, and I'm not."

Pocketing his hands, he rocked back on his heels. "How many girls your age do you know who've spent a night in juvenile detention?"

Her temper stretched taut, and she fought for control. "I spent the night because you left me there."

"You needed to learn a lesson."

"My friends and I got caught toilet-papering someone's house. It's not like we set it on fire. The cops didn't even arrest us."

"No, but perhaps that's next. Considering the kids you hang out with --"

"My friends aren't --"

She broke off as he held up a hand. "We've already had this discussion, Alaina. The bottom line is: I don't trust you to go away for college. You'll go to community college and live here at home." He turned to go, then paused. "I want you to think about something, Alaina. I want you to consider what kind of contribution violinists make to society."

She raised her chin. "I can answer that right now. Music is a --"

"I'll be blunt. Music is not a career choice. Not today. Not tomorrow. Your mother was wrong to encourage you. I'm going to make an appointment with your guidance counselor next week, and we're all going to sit down and decide what's an appropriate career for you."

"I'm a good violin player, Dad. Have you ever listened to me practice? I got an audition at Juilliard based on a tape that I sent them."

He waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. I don't care if you can dance a jig and recite Shakespeare at the same time. The arts are a waste of time. You might as well accept that now and get over it."

She clenched her jaw against the stinging behind her eyes. Tears, a sign of weakness, wouldn't be tolerated. "You can't stop me from pursuing my dreams. I'm not like Addison."

He smiled, and there was no humor in it. "You could learn a lot from your sister, Alaina. She's got a good man. She's an excellent role model."

"She does whatever you tell her. That doesn't make a good role model. That just makes a pretty little robot for you to order around. Just like Mom. When are you going to understand that I'm not like them?"

Blood suffused his face, and for a moment, she thought he might strike her. She almost hoped he would. A nice black eye to show her guidance counselor might work in her favor. As it was, no one would ever believe that her father was a merciless tyrant.

Instead, he stepped by her and picked up the violin off of her bed, where she'd foolishly left it unprotected. "You can't take that away," she said quickly. "I need it for class tomorrow."

He broke it in two over his knee and tossed the pieces to the floor at her feet.

Alaina stared in disbelief at the destroyed instrument, the scent of split wood filling her senses.

"You're dropping that class," her father said. "And I don't want to hear another word about music school." He stalked out, slamming her bedroom door behind him.

No matter how hard she tried, a few tears squeezed free. She vowed that he wouldn't break her spirit. She wouldn't let him. In four months, she would be eighteen. She would finish high school, and then she would run away. Her father wouldn't be able to control her anymore, and she would be free to pursue her dream of becoming the best damn violin player in the world.

Now, more than fifteen years later, Alaina sat shivering on the trunk of a broken tree, hopelessly lost.

"I guess I showed you, Dad, didn't I?"

Wearily, she pushed herself up and turned in a circle, trying to figure out which way would take her back to the shelter of the cabin.

Chapter 26

Mitch, warm now from loading up the rental car with supplies to last at least a week, plugged his last quarters into the Wal-Mart pay phone. Julia picked up on the first ring.

"Were you followed?" he asked.

"Don't think so."

"Excellent. Alaina and I have taken refuge at one of those cabins we stayed at last year."

"How's she holding up?"

"She's doing as well as can be expected."

"Where is she now?"

"I left her at the cabin."

"And you think she's staying put?" Julia asked.

"I imagine she's exploring her options."

"Jesus, Mitch, if she takes off, she could end up lost on that mountain."

"I left her my cellphone and your number," he said. "She'll call if she gets desperate."

"Yeah, or she might freeze to death before asking for help from us."

"She's stubborn, but she's not stupid."

"You like her," Julia said, a smile in her voice.

"I do. But she doesn't trust me."

"Gee, that's a shock."

"I told her I'd help her get Jonah back."

"Of course, you did."

He smiled into the phone. "You don't have to sound so smug."

She laughed. "But I am smug."

"I'm going to need you to do a few things."

"Shoot."

He paused, struck suddenly by how lucky he was to have her. "Thank you, Julia."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"You've done tons. I owe you, big time."

"Yeah, well, I won't let you forget it. So tell me what you need."

"You've been keeping an eye on Keller's place like I asked?"

"Yep. When I'm not there, I've got Steve on it."

Steve Larson was a freelancer they used to help on bigger cases. "Great," Mitch said. "I need a sense of Jonah's schedule. I realize that it's too soon for him to have developed a routine, but there might be certain times of the day when he's outside by himself, maybe hanging out by a pool or something."

Silence answered him.

"You there?" he asked.

"You're going to try to kidnap him back?" Julia asked slowly.

"If we have to."

"Wouldn't it be safer and more practical for Alaina to file for custody? I mean, a judge is going to do what's best for Jonah, and what Jonah has to say is going to carry a lot of weight," she said. "Plus, Keller didn't file a complaint after she took off with him, so it's unlikely that she'd be charged with kidnapping fourteen years later."

"They might not have a case against her, but that doesn't mean they won't try."

"What are you saying?"

"The feds have threatened to go after her if she does anything that hampers their investigation of Keller," he said. "They don't want him distracted by a custody battle."

"So you think they might arrest her to get her out of the way, even if they have no grounds to charge her?"

"Right. She kidnapped him. There's no question about that. What the feds can or can't do about it now could get messy. A judge would have to sort it out, and the feds might be able to delay the process for months."

"How long is this investigation into Keller supposed to take?"

"I don't know. Chuck wouldn't tell me what it's about."

"Typical fed bullshit."

"He's just doing his job."

"Wait a minute. Are you defending him?"

"Yeah, I guess I am. He's a damn good agent. Alaina would probably be dead by now if he hadn't helped me out. Can we get back to Jonah's schedule?"

"Keller isn't letting him off by himself at all. He probably expects Jonah to try to make a run for it, so he's watching him like a hawk. And his security is pretty standard for a paranoid millionaire who's built himself a fortress to keep the riff raff out."

"Any progress on getting blueprints?"

"The guy hasn't shared his fabulous home with Better Homes & Gardens or Architectural Digest. I might be able to cozy up to someone at the architectural firm that designed the place, but that'll take some time."

"That's fine."

"Uh, is that the best approach? I mean, knowing the layout of the place would make it easier to get the kid out of there, but if time is of the essence, someone on the inside and some security codes would serve us better."