VANISHED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Edgars Family Novel) (3 page)

He studied Abby a moment, remembering all the times he’d teased her during training. Touchy as a wounded hedgehog on the outside, sensitive on the inside.

As she talked to the detective, she slipped her long fingers into the blunt cut of her dark bangs, pushing them off her face. The rest of her thick hair was knotted behind her in some sort of professional, boring sort of bun. Despite her attempt at professionalism, the benign action showed just how frightened she was.

Luke turned his attention away from her and the feelings her vulnerability set off deep inside him. He looked out the window at the dark parking lot behind the condo. Oh yeah. He had his own reasons for suppressing information from the local cops.

If Abby’s friend survived the torture—and by the looks of this place she’d been beaten beyond endurance—she’d already told her abusers what it was they wanted to know. If she hadn’t, every possibility existed that she’d at least let them know she’d called Abby for help.

Abby could’ve innocently walked into a trap. Instead of just her friend’s blood on the floor, Abby’s could’ve been there, too. At the thought, Luke’s gut tightened with white-hot anger.

Any way he looked at it, naive Abby was now a target. A target he had to protect at any cost, even if meant pulling rank on the local cops like he had with Jeffers.

A hand tapped him on his shoulder. Luke turned to see Abby standing right behind him. God, he’d forgotten how tall she was. If she ever wore a pair of sexy heels instead of sensible shoes, she’d be nearly eye level with his six feet two inches. “Done talking to the locals?”

She nodded. “I hate to ask this, but could you give me a lift to a hotel? I don’t want to wait for a taxi at this late hour.”

Dammit, there was that catch in her voice again.

“You don’t have a rental car?”

She shook her head. “No, I just had a taxi drop me off.”

Great! Beside himself and the police officers, now the taxi driver could identify her as the first person to arrive at the condo to whoever took her friend. Just great.

“Do you have a hotel reserved already?” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but she flinched and pulled her hand away as if he’d slapped her.

“No. I’d thought I’d be staying here.” She took a retreating step, and looked around the room. “I’ll have one of the officers give me a ride—”

“No.” Luke grabbed her by the elbow. No way was he letting her leave here with anyone but him, certainly not some young yahoo beat cop who was more interested in getting home than securing her safety. “I’ll take you.”

Not releasing his grip, he led her back to the detective, pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “My cell number’s on there, Jeffers.”

The officer took the card. “Ms. Whitson is a material witness, Edgars. How do I reach her?”

Without waiting for him to answer for her, Abby rattled off her cell phone number for the detective.

Luke fought the urge to growl at her. He didn’t want every police man in the place to know her number. “Use mine first. She’ll be with me. If you need to talk to her I’ll see that she’s available to you. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if no one else knew of her whereabouts for now. And let me know when the crime scene analysis is ready. Put a rush on it, if you can.”

He shook the other lawman’s hand, then led Abby away from the bloody mess, hearing several murmurings of “damn feds” as they passed the officers milling around.

At the bedroom door, they nearly collided with a wet-behind-the-ears officer holding several pictures of Abby’s friend. The top one was Brianna with a man about forty years old and signed,
For Abigail
.

“That’s for me.” Abby reached for it, only to have the young man step back.

“Sorry, ma’am. For now it’s evidence.”

Abby nodded and blinked back tears. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. It’s just…well, I don’t really have a recent picture of my friend.”

“Sorry ma’am.” Sympathy washed across the officer’s face. He glanced at Detective Jeffers, then back at Abby. “Maybe, if it weren’t vital…”

She smiled at the young man, a half smile, the kind that said she was disappointed, but wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. “It’s okay, officer. I understand.”

Luke hated to see Abby hurting, especially over a picture of a woman who had so little regard for her friend she’d dragged her blindly into a dangerous situation. He glanced out the front door. TV trucks had set up their lights and cameras, reporters peppered the lawn, a crowd of neighborhood gawkers milled on the far side of the street.

Dammit, could this night get any better?

“Officer…” he glanced at the man’s badge. “Wilson. Could you loan us a police hat and jacket?”

The rookie glanced around nervously. “I don’t know…”

Luke pointed toward the front. “See all those reporters out there?”

Wilson and Abby both glanced out the door.

“If they see us leaving here, they’ll assume we’re witnesses, plaster our faces on the news, and point whoever did this straight for us. But if they see a female cop leaving with a detective, then no one will even notice.”

“I don’t need to hide,” Abby said, her chin going up stubbornly.

“If you want to help your friend, you need to keep a low profile.” He didn’t add that her life might already be in jeopardy. What he needed from her now was cooperation, not panic.

She pulled her lower lip through her teeth, and nibbled on it, as if she were calculating the benefits of arguing with him. The action sent heat through him, and made him want to nibble on her lip himself, just to see if it tasted as soft as it had five years ago.

“My overnight bag and laptop are in the foyer.”

Her words drew him back to the here and now. “And?”

“How do we explain taking them with us, if we’re just cops doing our job?”

“They’ll just be more evidence we’re collecting,” added Officer Wilson, getting into the act.

Luke could’ve kissed the guy as he removed his coat and hat, and gave them to Abby. “Get that picture dusted for prints, too, kid, and we’ll carry it out with the rest of her stuff.” Luke held up his hand when Wilson started to protest. “If Jeffers needs it back, he’ll call me. The evidence will be in federal custody, so he won’t have a problem with us taking it.”

As the young officer went to have the picture dusted, Abby slipped on the coat then pulled the hat onto her head. “I’m ready.”

Looking at her, Luke shook his head, pulled the hat off then shoved the loose strands of her dark hair up inside it before pushing the hat back onto her head. The bun at the base of her neck faded into the collar of the coat. “Let’s not give anyone a chance to get an accurate description of you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I really think you’re making too much out of this. No one will notice me.”

I did
.

“Listen, I’m the senior agent on this case now. You do what I say, no matter how over the top you think it is,
capisce
?”

She threw him a salute. “Yes, sir!”

Wilson returned with the framed picture, freshly covered with powder, and handed it to Abby. “Detective Jeffers said he doubted they’d find any prints other than the vic’s on anything. And he’d like nothing better than to cooperate with the feds, but he’s still holding you responsible for the evidence, sir.”

Luke looked into the living room at Jeffers. They exchanged nods. Both of them understood the situation. If anything happened to Abby or the evidence, the local cop wouldn’t hesitate to lay the blame on the federal agent.

“Ready?” Luke led the way to the front door. “Keep your face turned slightly from the reporters, Abby, just in case they film the general scene.”

She rolled her eyes again and thrust her friend’s picture at him. “Wait. You take this.”

He lifted a brow, but took the picture. “Why?”

“You’re the big bad detective. I’m the lowly beat cop. You’d expect me to carry the cases, while you took the victim’s picture.”

Wilson actually laughed behind them then coughed to cover it up when Luke shot him a glare.

Abby thrust her hand at the guy and smiled. “Thanks for all your help, officer.”

The kid actually blushed as he shook her hand. “The pleasure…was all mine, ma’am.”

It was Luke’s turn to roll his eyes. Then he opened the screen door, holding it long enough for Abby to pick up her bags and exit behind him, both of them careful not to brush the outside frame where a CSI member dusted for latent prints. Luke walked beside her, talking quietly, hoping everyone would think he was giving her instructions and not stop them for questions.

“No matter what happens out here, keep walking toward that gray BMW halfway down the block,” he said.

She nodded.

They had to step past two more CSI people who were scanning the sidewalk and street with UV light. They’d sprayed the area with Luminol to find hidden blood splatter, which was glowing like a fluorescent polka-dot trail. Luke glanced down the path which led to the east, away from his car about five yards, then stopped. He’d bet anything there were tire tracks at that spot, and that’s where the culprits stashed Abby’s friend into their getaway vehicle.

Too bad he couldn’t stay and get some firsthand information on the case. Right now, his priority was to get Abby to his car and away from the reporters.

They were halfway there.
This just might work.

Suddenly lights and people approached from the right. “Detective! Detective, could you tell us what’s happening?” asked a female voice.

Shit
.

Luke thrust the keys into Abby’s hand. “Keep going and get inside the car. I’ll try to distract her.”

Abigail took the keys and kept walking. She’d just bet he’d distract the pretty blonde reporter.

Behind her Luke changed his voice to smooth-as-silk. “What can I do for you, Ms…?”

His voice drifted off and Abigail couldn’t hear the woman’s reply, but wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t ask him to take her home and have his way with her.

Disgusted, Abigail put her bags in the back seat, taking a moment to look at the scene near the house, her mind taking quick snapshots. There must be five news crews. She looked across the road at the spectators watching the police and reporters. Old and young alike. Had they known Brianna or were they just out to see the macabre sideshow?

With a sigh, she settled in the passenger side to watch Luke’s performance with the lady reporter. After a few minutes they were both laughing, and with his hand on the small of the woman’s back he propelled her toward Brianna’s condo and away from the BMW.

“If we wanted to keep a low profile, we put the wrong person in a disguise,” Abigail muttered.

Five years ago, she’d watched him flirt the same way with every woman in their training class and any female training officer he came into contact with for nearly six months. She had to admit, he hadn’t been the one doing the pursuing. The man seemed to attract women like rednecks to beer.

Everyone but her.

From the moment they’d met they’d managed to act like flint on stone, sparks flying every time they were within ten feet of each other. For some reason he’d decided she had no business training for field work, and she’d been determined to follow her goals no matter how much he’d tried to goad her into quitting.

Out on the lawn, he disengaged himself from the crowd and was sauntering back toward the car. As he moved toward her in the dark, she felt her pulse quicken. No matter how much he irritated her, something about him set her blood to boil. Just being near him heightened her senses. Her skin still tingled where he’d gripped her arm.

She sighed and looked away.

No use wanting what you can’t have, Abigail. You threw yourself at him once and he turned you down
. No matter how tempting the man, she wasn’t into humiliation and wouldn’t go there again.

The sisters had been right. She was a plain woman and might as well accept that. No matter what Luke believed, she was as safe as could be. Even in a crowd of two, she was invisible.

Abigail gave herself a mental shake. Enough self-pity. She needed to concentrate on the problem at hand—Brianna was counting on her.

With resolve she shoved images of Luke and memories from the past back into her filing cabinet mind. Then she lay her head back on the seat, closed her eyes, opened another drawer in that mental storage unit and pulled out the first image she’d seen in her friend’s home.

Just like a crime scene photograph she could see every detail in cold clarity. The rust stains on the tile floor had a tread in them. Probably some sort of soft-soled shoe. Which means they carried Brianna out and stepped in her blood. Possibly two of them. Smearing the blood as they walked.

“Is she still alive?”

“Probably.”

Abigail slammed the mental picture of the hallway back into its drawer and sat straight in her seat. She hadn’t realized she’d been talking out loud or that Luke had gotten into the driver’s seat. “Excuse me?”

He turned in his seat, set her friend’s framed picture into her lap and studied her with those hazel-colored eyes of his. “Until we know otherwise, let’s just go with the assumption your friend is still alive, okay sweetheart?”

Surprised by the actual tenderness in his words, Abigail could only nod. He started the car and she swung her gaze out into the night, blinking at the fresh tears stinging at her eyes.

After a few minutes she felt she could speak. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He laughed. “That’s my Abby. All guts and spirit.”

“I’m not your
Abby
, or anything else for that matter. Just get me to a hotel, and I’ll take care of myself.”

“You’re doing a great job so far,” he muttered as he turned onto the main thoroughfare.

Abigail ignored the sarcasm in his voice and stared out into the dark night.

She already knew his opinion of her. He didn’t think she could do this job, that she belonged behind a desk far away. Well, that was too damn bad. He could stick his opinion in his…tailpipe. Brianna didn’t call him, she’d called her. Short of the second coming, nothing and no one was keeping her from helping her friend—especially not Luke Edgars.