Wrong Place, Wrong Time (36 page)

“She’ll come home. We can’t help that. It might be best anyway, since we now know my calls have been monitored and Mom’s safety has been compromised.”

“Yeah.” Monty headed for the staircase. “I’m leaving the Pierson file on your coffee table. Use whatever material you need to. And keep me posted.”

IT WAS COLD.

That awareness drifted through Merry’s consciousness as she slowly came to.

She shivered, wondering where her coat was. Her head was pounding. There was a sickening odor in her nostrils, one that seemed vaguely familiar. Her stomach lurched as it rebelled against the smell.

With another shiver, she gathered her strength and tried to stand up. A low cry emerged from her throat as she met with painful resistance. Her arms were secured behind her, and her legs were locked together, bound at the ankles. The ropes cut into her skin, preventing her from moving, and the surface supporting her was rock hard.

A wooden chair. She was sitting on it, and she was somewhere outside. But where? And why?

Instinctively, she began to struggle, trying to blink away the grogginess and the nausea. Neither diminished, but she cracked her eyes open anyway, intent on getting her bearings.

She wasn’t outside after all. She was in a woodshed, a maintenance shed, judging by the equipment. Two massive snowblowers, stacks of fifty-pound bags of rock salt, and a row of heavy-duty snow shovels filled the place.

How had she gotten here? What was going on?

It had to be tied to Monty’s investigation.

She inhaled sharply, smelled that sickening odor again, and remembered. She’d been kidnapped. That flower deliveryman had knocked her out and taken her, evidently bringing her to wherever this shed was.

She tried to scream. She couldn’t. There was a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth. Panic exploded inside her, and she began to battle frantically to free herself. The ropes cut into her skin, but she kept fighting, praying that somehow they’d give.

They didn’t.

Weak with exertion, she sagged in the chair, tears filling her eyes. She ordered herself not to cry. She had to keep her nostrils clear. They were her only means of breathing. If she stuffed them up, she’d suffocate.

She tried to calm down. The cold lashed at her, and she began to shake. How long had she been here? There was a sliver of sunlight trickling in from underneath the door. That told her it was still daylight. When it faded, she’d freeze to death.

Her father would find her. He had to.

She was struggling with the ropes again when she heard crunching sounds outside. They were rhythmic, growing closer.

Footsteps.

A key turned on the other side of the door. Merry stared in that direction, not sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

The door swung open, and a man in a parka and boots trudged in. The hooded parka hid most of him from view, but Merry could make out that he was of average height, with a solid build and a dark complexion that suggested he was of Hispanic descent. He was carrying a bottle of spring-water, and there were two blankets tucked under his arm.

Without speaking, he tromped over to where she sat and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

Merry began to cough. Her mouth was dry and cottony, and she could barely feel her tongue.

“
Agua
,” he muttered, twisting off the bottle cap and holding the bottle to her lips.

Fleetingly, Merry remembered the accented voice at Devon’s door. The same voice. It was the flower delivery guy.

She didn’t ask questions. She just drank, forcing herself to swallow small quantities at a time, all the while afraid he’d decide she’d had enough and yank away the bottle.

He didn’t. He let her drink her fill, then recapped the bottle and stuck it in his pocket. Next, he shook out the blankets and draped them across Merry’s lap and around her shoulders, shoving them into place.

“
Eso es mejor
.” With a grunt of satisfaction, he rose, glancing briefly at her as he wadded up the handkerchief, preparing to stick it back in her mouth.

“No. Please, don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t breathe. Please. I promise not to scream.”

He paused, scrutinizing her face with obvious noncomprehension.

“
Por favor
.” She wracked her brain, trying to remember her high school and college Spanish. “
No puedo respirar. Prometo no gritar. Por favor
.”

A flash of perception, and a definite hesitation.

He looked around, assessing the danger of complying with her wishes. In the end, he must have decided that no one would hear her if she broke her word, because he gave a hard nod.

Cramming the handkerchief in his other pocket, he walked off.

“
Espera
,” Merry called out hoarsely. “
¿Dónde estoy
?”

He didn’t reply. He just turned, staring at her with a brooding expression. Then he walked out.

Merry pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the stinging pain in her wrists. She had to be strong. She couldn’t let fear win out over reason. She was an adult, not a child.

Maybe. But all she wanted was her parents.

THE MINUTE SALLY heard that Pete was on the phone, she knew something was wrong.

He never checked in during the day. They talked alone each night, and with the kids some evenings. Those calls had been her emotional lifeline through this endless week and a half.

Now she hurried into the white clapboard house in Williamstown, thanking Molly for interrupting her walk to summon her to the phone.

She took the call in the den, which was empty and quiet.

“Pete?”

“Hey, Sal. You okay?”

“I am. But you’re not. I can hear it in your voice. Your gut was right. What’s happened?”

He blew out his breath. “Nothing good. Look, I’m driving up to the Pierson farm. I found a telephone bug in Devon’s basement. Someone’s been monitoring her calls. It’s possible that they got enough to figure out your whereabouts.”

Sally processed that. “But if they knew where I was, wouldn’t they have come after me already?”

“If they knew where you were, yeah. Hopefully, they don’t. Devon and I never mentioned a location. They’re probably searching everywhere they can think of and, at the same time, hoping one of us will lead them to you. Still, I don’t like it.” He paused, and Sally knew there was something else — something bad.

It was even worse than she thought.

“They’ve got Merry,” Pete said flatly.

Sally’s insides froze. “Oh God. No.” She sank down in a chair, her entire body trembling. “How?”

As calmly as possible, he relayed the details.

“Pete, what are they going to do to her?”

“The first thing they’ll do is figure out she’s not Devon. Which means they have a huge problem on their hands.”

“And how are they going to solve that problem? They killed Frederick. From what you’ve said, they killed Philip Rhodes. What if they decide to — ”

“That’s not their agenda. Not for Merry. Not even for Devon. Trust me, Sal. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I do trust you. But I’m coming home. Right away. It’s not up for debate. So don’t bother arguing with me.”

“I didn’t plan to.” Pete sounded wearily amused. “I know what a mother bear you are where our kids are concerned. So I beat you to the punch. Anytime now, Molly should be poking her head in to give you a timetable. She’s finding Rod. He’ll drive you down to your house. I’ll meet you there. I’d drive up to Williamstown and get you myself, but I’ve got a date with Edward Pierson.”

“Wait for me,” Sally commanded. “I’m going with you.”

“No way. It’s too big a risk.”

“That’s my choice. Not yours.” Sally was finished being protected. “I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you. I’ll be leaving here in ten minutes. If Rod can’t break away now, I’ll rent a car. I’ll be at the Piersons’ farm within a few minutes of you.”

Silence.

“I’m her mother, Pete,” Sally added quietly. “I need to be there.”

“I know you do.” Pete sounded resigned. “Fine. You win. But I’ll meet you at your place, not the Piersons’. That’ll give us the element of surprise. I’m flooring the gas. So tell Rod to step on it.”

“I will.” Sally fought for self-control. “Do you honestly believe Edward’s behind this?”

“He’s involved. How much, I don’t know. But I’m about to. Game over. No more bullshit. All the players are there. Edward. James. And that slimy veterinarian Edward hired. They’re all up to their necks in this. And I’ll wring every one of those necks if I have to. I’m finding our daughter.”

Devon punched the
end
button on her cell phone and shifted in the passenger seat of Blake’s Jag.

“I gave Monty the information we dragged out of Larry Aymes — what little there was.” She made a frustrated sound, turning to stare out the window. “Aymes was useless.”

“Not entirely.” Blake stepped on the accelerator, speeding toward Devon’s house. “We know the kidnapper spoke only Spanish. We know he had his instructions written on a slip of paper, and that he read them to Aymes when he gave him that hundred-dollar bill.”

“Great,” Devon said grimly. “So we know our guy’s a hired hand. Did we honestly think your cousin or your grandfather would do the dirty work himself?”

“Point taken.” Blake turned onto Devon’s street. “Are you going to open up to me now?”

She tipped her head toward him. “Open up about what?”

“About whatever your father just told you. About whatever you’ve been keeping from me.” Blake paused. “I think we’re past the point of secrets, don’t you?”

“You mean because this whole situation’s unraveling.”

“Yeah. And because I’m in love with you.”

Devon’s breath caught. She stared at Blake’s profile, feeling his declaration sink into her gut. She’d known this was happening. But she hadn’t anticipated the impact that hearing the words would have on her.

“Are you in shock?” Blake asked, still staring ahead.

“No. I’m overwhelmed, and on emotional overload. How can the most wonderful experience of my life happen during the most harrowing crisis of my life?”

A wry smile tugged at Blake’s lips. “I guess that’s how love works. We don’t get to choose the time or place.”

“Obviously not. So much for candles and moonlight.”

Blake reached over and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “We can have those later.”

“I know.” Devon interlaced her fingers with his. “I love you, too,” she added softly.

“Enough to trust me?”

“Yes.” She was amazed at how much she meant it.

“Good. Then tell me where your mother is and how’s she holding up.”

Devon’s brows arched. “You figured it out?”

“It wasn’t hard. You and your father were much too calm for your mother to be MIA. I assume he stashed her away somewhere safe.”

“He did. But she’s not there anymore. Not with Merry kidnapped. She’s on her way home. Monty’s meeting her. Together, they’re going to confront your grandfather and company.”

Blake’s expression turned grim. “That should be quite a party.” He pulled into a parking spot and turned off the ignition. “I still can’t believe someone in my family is a killer. White collar crime, even what’s going on with Vista — all that I can envision, even if it turns my stomach. But murder? Kidnapping? Never. Never in a million years.”

Devon squeezed his hand. There was nothing she could say to make his disillusionment go away. All she could do was be there.

ROD GARNER’S BLUE Ford Explorer rumbled down Sally’s driveway, pulled around, and stopped.

Leaning against his Corolla, Monty straightened and walked toward them. By the time he reached the passenger side, Sally had climbed out. Without a word, she went into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, gripping her tightly. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He gazed past her as Rod ambled over with her bag. “Thanks,” Monty told his friend. “I owe you one.”

“Nah.” The solid, ruddy-cheeked man grinned. “Sally’s a pleasure. Molly and I loved having her. Plus, she makes a mean chicken Savoy and was decent enough to share the recipe. So, if anything, I owe you. So, tell me, what else can I do?”

“You can head home. I’ve got it covered from here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. If things change, I know where to find you.”

Sally broke away from Monty’s embrace and turned to Rod. “What can I fix you for the road? A snack? Coffee?”

“Not a thing.” He gave her arm a reassuring pat. “Just take it easy. Your ex is a pro. He’ll find your girl.”

“Thank you.” Sally clasped his gloved hands. “Thank you for everything. Tell Molly I’ll call as soon as we know anything.”

“Will do.” He strode back to his car and jumped in. “Hang tough, you two.” He drove off.

Sally turned back to Monty, her lashes spiky with tears. “I’m ready. Go ahead and prep me. The sooner I’m up to speed, the sooner we can confront the Piersons.”

EDWARD WAS ON the phone with Vista when there was a knock at his office door.

“What is it?” he barked.

Albert stepped into the room. “Pardon me, Mr. Pierson, but Detective Montgomery just called. He’s pulling through the farm gates. He says it’s urgent that he see you. He asked that James be included, as well.”

A hard swallow as warning bells sounded. “All right, Albert. Find James. Then show Detective Montgomery in.” Edward waited until his butler had exited. “Now what?” he muttered into the phone. “What did you let slip this time?”

“Nothing,” Vista snapped back. “I haven’t spoken to a soul. Not since yesterday when your grandson and Devon Montgomery invaded my privacy. I have no idea what her father’s there to see you about.”

“That better be true. I’ll get back to you.” Edward hung up.

A minute later, James knocked and strolled into the room. “You need to speak with me?” he asked his grandfather.

“No.” From behind James, Monty grabbed the door, preventing it from being shut. “We do.” He gestured for Sally to enter.

“
We
?” Edward had begun. The word died on his lips as he spotted Sally.