Meet Me in Barcelona (20 page)

Jean Sebastian's room, or rooms, as he had a main living room and a ginormous bedroom, also had a large balcony with an ocean-front view. The bathroom had a sunken whirlpool tub and a rainforest shower. He could have mentioned this before she showered in her rusty box, she thought. Not that she should be enjoying anything right now, especially little luxuries like a waterfall shower-setting.

While Grace wandered around with her mouth open, Jean Sebastian disappeared into his room and then came back with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He was so tan, and was definitely a man acquainted with a gym. She tried not to stare at the muscles in his stomach. She thought of Jake's sweet, normally pale, not-quite six-pack stomach, and she wanted to cry. Was Jean Sebastian trying to flaunt himself in front of her?

“There's a lovely roof deck and gardens if you'd like to wander around there while I shower. There's an elevator at the end of the hall that will take you up.”

“You mentioned you had a printer?”

“Right. Of course. But we'll have to figure out how to print pictures off Facebook. I think we'll need to set up an outside account with a photo-sharing album. You'll need all my passwords. You might as well enjoy the roof deck for a few minutes.” Grace nodded. At least she wouldn't be thinking about him in the shower. Well, now she might, but she wouldn't be just a few feet away. She could clear her head.

The terrace had a sculpture garden, flower garden, seating area with fire pits, and of course an expansive, in-ground pool. Grace sat down on one of the outdoor sofa benches. Jake should be here with her. Her cell phone rang. Her heart leapt out of her chest. It stopped after one ring. It wasn't until she looked at the phone that she realized it was a text message.

 

Jake saw your Facebook page.

 

Heart leaping, Grace texted back immediately. What about her Facebook page? She hadn't been on Facebook since she had arrived in Spain. Not that it mattered. Whoever had Jake was making contact.

 

Who is this? Is Jake okay?

 

It felt like years that she sat with the phone cradled in the palm of her hand, staring at it. Beep again. Say something, anything. If Grace and Jean Sebastian had gone to the police already, maybe they could have set up a trace.

 

Not after he saw your Facebook page.

 

Please. Carrie Ann? Rafael? Stan? I need to talk to Jake.

Check your page. Then we'll talk.

 

Grace's legs were rubber as she ran back to the room. The shower was still going when she let herself in. He was taking his sweet old time, wasn't he? Shoot. He never did tell her where she could find his laptop. She raced around the apartment, hoping it would jump out at her.
If it was a snake, it would've bit you
. . . . Her mother loved that expression. Grace had always been the type of kid who misplaced things. Right now she'd be fine with the laptop's jumping out and biting her. Should she knock on the bathroom door, tell Jean Sebastian to hurry?

She put her ear to the door. Suddenly, it opened. Jean Sebastian stood there, naked and wet, and she fell into his chest. Oh, God. Why was the shower still running? She backed up as soon as she could, but it was still long enough to feel his hard body against her.

“I'm so sorry,” she said.

“I thought I heard something,” Jean Sebastian said.

“I was going to knock. I just got a text.” Jean Sebastian nodded, then turned and shut off the shower. He didn't seem to mind being naked in front of her, and that made Grace blush even more. She stepped back into the living room and paced until he came out, towel once again loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Show me.” She handed him the phone. He scrolled through the messages, then headed for his bedroom. “Follow,” he said. She entered his bedroom, which had three floor-to-ceiling windows with views of both downtown Barcelona and the ocean. Everything else was white. His laptop was in the middle of his bed, and he jumped on it, and lay on his stomach as he pecked at the keys and brought up a search engine. “Join me,” he said casually. Well, there just wasn't time to argue about how this might look. Grace carefully sat next to him on the bed. He turned and looked up at her, then gave a little smile as if he knew exactly how uncomfortable she was with this situation.

“Here,” he said. He swiveled the laptop in her direction, and she quickly brought up her Facebook page. The first thing that struck her was her message bar. She had over fifty comments. She barely got any comments, even when she posted info about shows. She scrolled down and was confronted by a photo. It had been taken in the club. She was on the dance floor. With Jean Sebastian. The two were plastered together. There were three photos. Grace clicked on each to bring it to full size. In the first picture they were dancing, bodies pressed together. In the second picture Jean Sebastian had her by the hand, and she was twirling back, laughing. But it was the third picture that stopped her heart. She and Jean Sebastian were lip-locked.

Jean Sebastian immediately sat up. “Oh, God,” he said.

“Is this Photoshopped?” Grace said. But even as the words left her lips, she remembered the kiss. Brazenly making out with Jake on the dance floor. Only it hadn't been Jake. Oh, God. She had even noticed he had been wearing a different shirt. The drugs had taken a strong hold by then. She'd loved the kiss. Shame flooded her. Where had Jake been when she was kissing Jean Sebastian? Had he seen and run out of the club? Was there a chance Jake was out there on his own and furious with her? In some ways that would be better than the alternative. “Do you remember this?” Her voice sounded desperate and accusing.

“Not a bit of it,” Jean Sebastian said. His eyes stayed steady on hers. She didn't know if she believed him. “Believe me,” he said as if he could read her mind. “I would
want
to remember that.” He held her gaze until she broke it off.

There were a ton of Facebook comments underneath the photos, ranging from the “Way to go” variety to “How could you?” One person called her a whore. So much for her “friends.”

Grace immediately removed the photos and posted a comment.

She hesitated. Did she tell them she had been drugged? Would people believe her?
I was drugged.
That sounded so lame! But saying she had thought she was kissing Jake would sound even worse. Should she tell them that Jake was missing?

“Don't say too much,” Jean Sebastian said as he watched her wrestle with what to say. “We want whoever is doing this to communicate with us.”

Grace scrolled down, but there were no other pictures or postings. “Jake saw this,” Grace said.

“Or so they say.”

“What if they hurt him? What if . . . ?” She couldn't even bring herself to say it out loud, but the fear echoed through her mind at top volume.
What if he isn't even alive?

“That might get their attention all right,” Jean Sebastian said.

“I should try again to see if Carrie Ann has a page,” Grace said. With all this game-playing maybe Carrie Ann had set one up to send her clues. She typed in
Carrie Ann Gilbert.

The first search result misunderstood what she was looking for. “People named Carrie Ann who live in Gilbert, Arizona,” Grace read off the screen. “I don't think so.” She tried it again:
Sorry, we couldn't find this search result.

“Maybe just Carrie Gilbert?”

“I doubt it. And I don't have time to go through all the variations.”

“Does Jake have a page?”

“God, I'm not even thinking.” Grace brought up his page. No postings, but the picture of her kissing Jean Sebastian was on there, again with a million messages from “Dude, what gives?” to “Did you dump the bitch?”

She had no authority to delete the photo from his page. I did not do this, she commented. This is a hack and a scam!

Suddenly, an instant message popped up. “Jake,” Grace exclaimed.

“Or just his account,” Jean Sebastian cautioned.

Although the instant message screen with Jake's name popped up, no message came through. Grace typed:

Jake? Jake? Jake?

When she saw
Jake is typing
appear in the little screen, she cried out.

“Oh my God,” Grace said. “What is
denuncia?
”

“It's Spanish for ‘police report,' ” Jean Sebastian said.

“What do I say?”

“Just ask what they want. But that's it.”

“Oh God,” Grace said. “I'm already fucking this up.”

“They're messing with you. They have to know we'd stick together.”

“Okay. So I just tell them?”

“Just tell them.”

Jake is offline
. They were gone. “Damn it,” Grace said. She glanced at Jean Sebastian. Why had she listened to him? Grace hurried and typed in her phone number again on Facebook. Then, on second thought, she added:

“Wow,” Jean Sebastian said.

“I'm pissed,” Grace said, tears rising into her eyes. “I'm really pissed.” What she really wanted to do was throw his laptop through the giant-sized windows. “This can't be Carrie Ann. It can't be.”

“Are you sure?” Jean Sebastian said.

“No. I'm not sure of anything.”
Happy, Marsh Everett? I love Jake and I want him back, and I would be willing to physically hurt anyone who hurts him. I guess I've learned that about myself, Marsh. Turns out I'm an eye-for-an-eye kind of a girl. What do you think about that?
She turned to Jean Sebastian. “I want to take my Facebook page down.”

“You can't. Anything they do is a piece of the puzzle. Every little communication or lack thereof could mean something.”

“Now what?” Grace still wanted to go to the police.
Denuncia
means death. Her phone beeped.

Park Güell

6 PM

No sidekick

 

Where exactly? Who is this? I will be there

Alone

Alone

 

“I don't like this,” Jean Sebastian said.

“It's better than no contact,” Grace said. “At least I'll find out what I'm dealing with.”

“What we're dealing with.” Jean Sebastian looked at her. A surge of attraction ran through her. It was natural. He was trying to protect her, and that was a definite aphrodisiac. She looked away. “It's a huge park. Ask them where.”

Please. Where exactly shall we meet?

Enter and sit on the serpentine bench. Will text again.

 

“Could the police trace where this is coming from?” Grace said.

“It's probably a throwaway. Like ours.”

“How would they know? If we go to the police, how would the kidnappers know?”

“Well—the police might contact the media, and then the kidnappers would hear it on the news or see a poster.”

“So no police.”

“I didn't say that. But you're definitely not going to the park alone.”

“Jake couldn't wait to go to that park,” Grace said.

“Maybe that's why they picked it.”

“Do you think he's okay?”

“I don't know, Grace. I want to reassure you. But I don't know who's doing this, so I can't give you an honest opinion.”

“What would you do?”

“I would go to the park. But not alone.”

“But you heard them.”

“And what? Will they have spies all over the park? I will get there an hour before you. I'll throw on a hat and glasses. You won't even know it's me. Do not get in a car or into an enclosed space with anyone, no matter what. Otherwise, we'll see what they have in mind, and after, we'll decide whether or not to go to the police.”

“I agree,” Grace said.
With some of it
. As for the rest of it, Grace had a few ideas of her own.

Stepping into Park Güell was almost like stepping into Dr. Seuss land. The two buildings flanking the entrance of Park Güell were an example of Gaudí's intentions to marry his whimsical architectural elements with nature. They were solid stone structures with roofs that looked like jester's hats. Grace loved the white-laced edging that dripped over the tops like icing on a cake. The one to the right sprouted a blue-and-white-striped spiral. Pastel mosaic tiles and crosses at the top of each building completed the picture. This was where she would reunite with Jake, she prayed. In this fantastical park, this was where her nightmare would end. From now on she would stand up for herself, she would sing whatever the hell she wanted, and she would shed the shame of her past with Carrie Ann
. You were right, Mom,
Grace thought.
You were right all along about Carrie Ann
. She was going to have to call her parents again soon, but she was putting it off because the next time she was going to have to tell them the truth. Hopefully, Jake would be at her side, giving the tale the necessary happy ending.

She was two hours early, and alone. She was also carrying her guitar. As much as she appreciated Jean Sebastian's suggestion that he arrive an hour early and plant himself somewhere nearby, she couldn't take the chance of its coming back to bite her. On top of that, she couldn't stop thinking about the Facebook pictures. It wasn't just an innocent kiss—they'd been full-on making out. But Jake was the one she had thought she'd been kissing. The point was—she remembered kissing someone. Jean Sebastian said he remembered none of it. Could she really trust him? And what did it mean if he did remember kissing her?

There was another reason she didn't want him tagging along. If Jake came to the park, she didn't want him to see her with Jean Sebastian and get the wrong idea. Not if he really had seen the pictures. Besides, the text had said to come alone. So she had snuck out of the Hotel Arts Barcelona while Jean Sebastian was getting dressed. Then, she had gone back to her apartment for her guitar. Stefano wasn't at the desk, nobody answered at Carrie Ann's, and her place was exactly the way she had left it. Jake hadn't been back. But at least she was able to grab her Taylor Hummingbird.

Musicians playing drew a lot of attention. If she was frightened at any point, she could set up somewhere and play, hopefully draw a crowd. She also picked up a small bottle of hairspray that she could use like mace in a pinch, and a pocketknife, though the thought of using it truthfully scared her to death. But having the small items in her pocket made her feel slightly more empowered.

Grace had been told to meet at one of the highlights of the park, the serpentine bench winding the length of the large terrace. It boasted colorful tiles along the top of the serpent's spine. The winding bench tilted upward so that it would dry quickly after it rained. Gaudí had thought of everything down to the tiniest detail. Grace needed to do the same if she wanted to get Jake back. There was no fear of a storm today, even though it was moving toward late afternoon; the sun was still high and bright in the sky. Grace stood at a prime viewing spot on the terrace overlooking lush treetops and the city. In the distance she could make out the familiar spirals of the Sagrada Família and the peaks of the Montjuïc mountain range. Under normal circumstances the view would have infused her with a sense of calm. But this was anything but normal, and everything, even the gorgeous views, set her nerves on fire.

Her phone rang. It was Jean Sebastian. She thought of ignoring him, but realized that could backfire. He seemed like the worrying type.
Say what you mean. He seems like he would worry about you, Grace. He isn't doing this for Jake; he's doing it for you.

“Please don't come,” she said quickly and quietly. “I have to do this alone.”

“You are there now?”

“Not yet,” Grace said. She didn't think he needed to know every move she made. Even though she felt so comfortable around him, she had to constantly remind herself he was a total stranger. And her guilt had doubled ever since she had realized it had been him she'd kissed and not Jake. The sexual tension had definitely increased since the discovery. She'd find him looking at her as if he remembered that kiss as much as she did.
I'm sorry, Jake, I'm so, so sorry.

“I thought we had a good plan. You leave while I'm dressing? Did I do something to offend you?”

“No. I'm sorry. I just—after that picture—I don't want Jake to get the wrong idea.”

“Ah. You actually think they will bring him?”

“We don't know that there even is a ‘they.' Maybe it's just Carrie Ann carrying a joke a little too far. Either way I'm going to find out. Alone.”

“It is a public park, no?”

“Jean Sebastian. Thank you for watching over me so far. But you shouldn't be involved in this anymore. Please. Just enjoy the rest of your travels.”

“I don't think you—”

“Good-bye.” Grace hung up. She turned the phone off. At least he'd had one good idea—getting two phones. The contact number she'd put on Jake's voice mail and Facebook page was for her second phone. Jean Sebastian didn't have that number. She wouldn't have to worry about him interrupting again. There was a chance he would show up at the park, however. But she had a plan for that too.

I am alone but Jean Sebastian knows where we are meeting. I don't know how to stop him from showing up at the bench. Please text another place to meet.

 

Was she the biggest idiot on the planet? If so, it was all because of Jake. If the roles had been reversed, he would have done anything to find her. She was going to play by the kidnappers' rules for now. At least until she had some clue what she was up against. She didn't even know if they would read and respond to the text, but at least she had to try. It couldn't have been Jake communicating or he would have answered the phone. So she had to assume someone had him. Unless Carrie Ann had tied him up while he was drugged, Grace didn't know how Carrie Ann could pull it off alone. So Grace decided to go with the assumption that Carrie Ann had married Stan Gale, that he was psychotic and blamed Grace for the past, and that he had taken Jake hostage. The goal for today was to find out what he wanted her to do, and then she would probably do it. But first she was going to demand proof that Jake and Carrie Ann were all right.

Which brought her back to Rafael. He had to be in cahoots with Stan. It was his club. And he was a tall and strong guy—heck, just wearing that eagle costume all day and walking around on stilts took a certain amount of stamina. He was weird enough to be involved too. He'd better not hurt Jake. Grace sat on the bench and propped her guitar on the ground. She suddenly felt foolish for bringing it. She longed for two days ago when the stupid review from Marsh Everett was her biggest worry. Life was so simple, and because of it, tragic. Simple because the only things that ever really mattered were the people you loved and the things you loved to do. Tragic, because those things were often overlooked, and yet at the core they were so fragile. Fragile, delicate, beautiful. So easily broken. Mistreated. Ripped away
. Just give me back Jake. I will never want for anything else ever again.
Her phone beeped.

Footpath under the viaduct

 

She had no idea where that was.
Whatever you do, don't get in a car with anyone or meet in an enclosed space.
Jean Sebastian was right about that. Did the viaduct count as an enclosed space? Well, there was nothing she could do about it now; she was the one who had suggested a second location.

 

I will be there

 

She'd start looking for it right now. If it seemed too dangerous, she would figure out an alternative. At least they were still communicating. Speaking of which, it was time to send her first demand.

 

I need proof that Jake is okay

If I do that, there are rules

 

?????

No crying out. No screaming. No reaching for anything.

 

“No reaching for anything” she could understand. But—No crying out? No screaming? What was he planning?

Fine. Who is this?

No questions. 6:00 sharp.

 

Grace began to walk the park, taking note of any landmark she could easily find, just in case she needed to exit quickly. She loved how Gaudí had built bird nests into the terrace wall. She noted a section where there was an overhang with mosaic tiled ceilings—a bright yellow sun against a blue background. That would be easy to spot. Another audience-pleaser was a large, mosaic-tiled salamander lying in the middle divide of a set of stone steps. He was called
el drac,
which meant dragon—even though he was a salamander. The park had several levels and three viaducts, all built with stones from the park. The lower level, where Grace was to meet whoever was doing the texting, was supported by sloping or inclined columns, angled in to handle the weight from above. Entering the footpath below felt like being in an ancient underground tunnel. It wasn't entirely enclosed, but there were also fewer people down here. She could see how screaming might get someone's attention; voices probably echoed down here. Grace took out her guitar. Wouldn't hurt to draw a little crowd.

The instant she held her Hummingbird against her body, she felt calmer, more confident. She'd missed it. She started with some simple instrumental tunes, just to check out the acoustics. As she suspected, there was a slight echo through the tunnels, but she kind of liked the effect. Sure enough, after five or so minutes, people nearby stopped to listen, and soon she had drawn a little crowd. A few even walked up with money, searching the ground near her for a hat or a tip jar. Under normal circumstances this is when she'd start singing. And a tiny part of her was dying to do it. A single ember, burning a hole in her heart. But now was not the time to lament the death of her dream. People weren't the only things in this life that were fragile. The only thing that mattered now was Jake. It was five-thirty. She didn't need to risk the crowd's keeping Stan away, so she stopped playing and moved on. Fifteen minutes later, she returned, guitar tucked up tight in its case.

And then, it was time. Exactly six p.m. according to her phone. Her heart hammered in her chest. Grace didn't know where along the pathway she would meet up with whoever it was, which was why she had taken to walking a section back and forth, hoping to see or be seen. If Jean Sebastian was in the park, she had yet to spot him either. Perhaps he was waiting on the serpentine bench, or maybe he'd realized he'd rather go out for sangria and tapas and tango dancers than follow her crazy predicament all over Spain. Either way she wished him well. There was a teeny tiny part of her that wanted him to be waiting on the bench above. Despite her guilt and the regrettable kiss, he had been a great comfort to her. She hated being alone and second-guessing every move she made. She turned to pace in the other direction and came to a dead halt. Carrie Ann and Jake were standing in front of her, just a few feet away. Despite her promise, she cried out. Immediately, Jake shook his head, “no.” Grace clamped her mouth shut and waited. “Jake,” she said after a few seconds. It came out as a strangled whisper. Carrie Ann and Jake hadn't moved, were just standing as still as statues, both wearing very serious expressions.

Grace walked closer, and then closer, until she couldn't help it, she was running toward Jake, planning on throwing herself in his arms. His arm jerked up, and he held his hand out in a “stop” position. And it wasn't just his arm that went up; Carrie Ann's did too. They were handcuffed together.

Grace came to a stop, tottering back on her heels and almost losing her balance. Tears flooded her eyes as she stopped and stared. Jake slowly nodded, and their arms went back to their sides. As far as Grace could see, they were alone in the tunnel.

“Let him go,” Grace cried out. “Let him go.”

“Gee, thanks,” Carrie Ann said. Grace made eye contact with Carrie Ann, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize. She wasn't convinced that Carrie Ann was a victim. It was very likely that she was actually spearheading the whole thing.

“Is this a game, Carrie Ann?” Carrie Ann didn't answer, move, or even blink. “I'm going to find out. I'm going to find out everything,” Grace said.

“He's watching,” Jake said. His voice was low and measured. She searched his face for any sign of harm. And then looked at Carrie Ann. Besides looking tired and smudged, she had a swollen lip. Otherwise, they appeared to be okay. Grace had to ask anyway.

Jake nodded. “How about you? Are you okay?” he asked. His voice caught.

“I don't remember that kiss, Jake,” Grace said. “I was drugged.”

“I know. So were we.” His voice was strangled. The way he said it made Grace wonder if there was a picture somewhere of him kissing Carrie Ann. But none of that mattered now. Grace wanted to touch him so badly. She took a step forward.

“No,” Carrie Ann said. “He's watching.”

“Stan and Rafael?” Grace said. “Are they doing this to you?” Grace's phone dinged, and she jumped. She glanced at the screen.

No questions. I hear everything.

 

“The threats are real, Grace,” Jake said. “So please. Just do everything he says, okay?”

“What does he want, Jake? I can't take this.”

“Here,” Carrie Ann said. She extended her hand. In it was a piece of paper. “The first clue,” she said. Grace took the paper and opened it. A series of dashes made up the middle of the page with a message underneath.

Grace looked up and around the tunnel, wondering where Stan was hiding. “Please,” Grace said. “No games. Just let them go. If you want money, I'll get money.” She lifted her guitar. “This is a Taylor Hummingbird. It's worth a lot. Take it.”