By six o’clock that evening, I was at home, dead bolt and chain in place, just finishing the last bite of a turkey sandwich, when two handsome Salvare men showed up at my door, one a younger, slightly thinner version of the other.
“Hey, Hot Stuff,” Rafe said, sauntering into my apartment, “your bodyguards are here.” He winked at me. “Looking good, as always.”
“Thank you, Rafe,” I said, rolling my eyes at Marco. Rafe was a shameless flirt.
“Hey,” Marco called to him from the doorway. “Remember what I told you.”
“No prob, bro.” Rafe continued into the living room and turned on the TV, putting himself out of sight and earshot.
“Did the cops find any prints?” Marco asked me.
“Nothing useful. Just smudges, probably most of them mine, Lottie’s, and Grace’s. How the thief was able to scoop up a dozen brooches without us hearing anything still alarms me.”
“Have you told your mom yet?”
“I did, and of course Mom took it as a sign that she should make more. She wants us to lock her next batch in the glass case where we keep the crystal figurines. She said she’s going to call the pawnshops in the area to let them know to watch for her brooches.”
“At least she wasn’t upset.” Marco drew me against him. “I’ve got to get going.”
“I wish you didn’t have to work these late evening hours, Marco.”
“Sometimes it can’t be helped. I don’t plan to do it forever.”
“Can we kiss on that?”
With a little grin playing at one corner of his mouth, Marco tilted his head, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that got hotter by the second.
“Sure you can’t stay?” I murmured dreamily, as he nibbled his way along my jaw.
He pressed his lips in the hollow behind my ear, a spot he’d discovered made me go weak in the knees. “I wish.” Then he tilted my chin so he could gaze into my eyes.
“Are you going to lecture me now?” I asked, still in my stuporous state.
“Yes, so pay attention.”
“You can be bossy at times.”
“Don’t let Rafe talk you into leaving the apartment. I told him he’s your bodyguard tonight, and your safety is in his hands until I get back. Got it?”
“Word for word.” I leaned into him for another kiss and Marco happily complied. Then he tilted my chin up again.
“Don’t wait up for me. It’ll be late by the time I pick Rafe up and drop him off at home again.”
“Okay.” Or maybe I would wait up and surprise him.
We shared one more long kiss; then he had to go. “Remember what I told you,” he called as he started down the hallway.
“And you remember that a closed bathroom door means you have to knock before entering.”
He gave me a thumbs-up. Then I shut the door, slid the chain into place, and headed for the living room. Time to put my plan into action.
Rafe was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV. I blocked his view. “Do you really want to watch a basketball game all evening or would you rather take a field trip with me?”
Rafe swung his legs to the floor. “A leaving-the-apartment type of field trip?”
“I need to pay a visit to Nikki at the hospital.”
“She’s sick?”
“No, on duty. Nikki works there. I need some information from her.”
“Whoa. Back up, Freckles. Marco gave me strict instructions to stay here with you. He’ll kill me if I let you leave.”
I sat down beside him. “That’s not what I heard Marco say. He told me you were going to be my bodyguard this evening.”
Rafe looked confused. “So?”
“So he didn’t say you were going to be my babysitter.
There’s an important difference. Sitters watch their charges in a home. Bodyguards protect their charges everywhere. Do you see what I mean?”
“Well, yeah, except he said not to leave here.”
Rafe was such a babe in the woods. “Marco’s exact words to me were ‘Don’t let him talk you into leaving the apartment,’ which you’re not. Again, an important difference.”
A light went on in Rafe’s head. He hopped off the sofa with a devilish grin. “I’m ready when you are.”
In the parking lot, I discovered that Marco had taken his Prius, leaving me my bright yellow Vette-not exactly camouflage material. Not enough to deter me from my mission, either. Thinking it would be better if I wasn’t seen behind the wheel, however, I made the mistake of letting Rafe drive, then held on to my seat with a white-knuckled grip as we sped away from every stop sign and light between apartment and hospital. In between hanging on for dear life and ordering him to drop his speed, I explained the purpose of our trip.
“Damn! I don’t blame you for wanting to be sure Harding’s on his last breath,” Rafe said.
“So how about slowing down even more so we’re not about to draw our last breath?”
We parked on the top floor of the hospital garage-less chance of being seen-then took the stairs to the main level and crossed the street to the hospital. I steered Rafe toward the X-ray department in the basement and asked the volunteer at the sign-in desk for Nikki.
A few minutes later, Nikki and another tech came out of a doorway in the back, both women dressed in green uniforms. “Abby, is everything all right?” Nikki asked.
“We’re fine,” I said as Rafe gazed appreciatively at the attractive girl at Nikki’s side. “I just had a question for you.”
Rafe held out his hand to Nikki’s coworker, turning the full force of his charm on her. “Hi, I’m Rafe Salvare. And you are…?”
The young woman blushed as she took his hand. “Erin Sells.”
“An X-ray technician, I see,” Rafe said.
Nikki took me aside to whisper, “Is he your sitter tonight?”
I held my index finger to my lips to hush her. “I have to ask a really big favor, Nik. Tom Harding is a patient on the second floor, and I need to know why he’s been admitted.”
“Harding’s here?” she whispered, her eyes huge. “I haven’t seen any cops on that floor.”
“He isn’t being guarded. He was released because of his health. It’s a long story that I’ll tell you later. Right now, I really need to know how bad off he is. Can you help me out?”
“I’d like to, Ab, but I can’t get into the filing cabinet up there without permission. I could be sanctioned for doing that.”
“Can’t you just glance at the chart at the foot of Harding’s bed?”
“That contains only his immediate information, like current meds and dosages, temperature and blood pressure readings. Everything else, including his medical history, is kept in a file at the nurses’ station.”
“There’s no way you can sneak a little peek for me?” Nikki wrinkled her forehead, looking worried. “I don’t know, Ab…”
“If you don’t feel safe, then forget it,” I said.
“Well,” she said, “maybe if the nurses weren’t around, I could take a fast look.”
We managed to drag Rafe away from Erin, then took the elevator to the second floor and waited while Nikki checked out the nurses on duty. She came back moments later to report that there were two presently at the station.
“Now we need a diversion,” I said.
“I could take off my clothes and streak past them,” Rafe offered.
“And wind up in the psych ward,” Nikki said.
“Or jail,” I said. “How about if I stage an accident on the landing between floors? Rafe, you can run to the nurses to get help for me, and while they’re away, Nikki, you can take a look at Harding’s chart.”
Nikki thought it over, then shrugged. “We can try.”
We stepped into the stairwell next to the elevator bank to check out the scene of the so-called accident. I hurried down to the landing and sat down on the cold metal, making sure to twist one leg under me. “How does this look?”
“Perfect,” Nikki said as I rose to brush myself off. “I’ll watch for the right moment, then send Rafe back here to signal you to get into place.”
We high-fived each other. A door opened above and footsteps came our way, so we scooted up the stairs and waited outside the door until Rafe peered in and declared it clear.
“What should I do if someone finds me before the nurses get there?” I asked.
“Moan,” Nikki said, “loudly. And don’t let anyone move you until the nurses examine you. As soon as I take a look at the chart, I’ll come to the stairwell and let you know.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” I watched them head out the door; then I dashed down to the landing, hoping we hadn’t forgotten anything.
As the minutes ticked by, I began muttering, “Hurry up, hurry up,” and checking my watch-it was almost seven o’clock-until Rafe finally appeared and motioned for me to get into position. Then he dashed away, and I arranged my legs to look as though I’d slipped down the last few steps, hoping no one else stumbled upon our staged scene.
Suddenly, the door above me opened, and I heard Rafe say, “She’s down there.”
I moaned and rubbed my right ankle as the nurses hurried down the steps toward me. One of the nurses, a woman whose name tag said Teresa Warner, crouched down to examine my right leg. She felt along my calf and shin, probed the bones in my ankle, and turned my foot. I gasped for effect, but not enough to raise any big concerns, or so I thought.
“I think I just bruised something,” I said, wincing. “Rafe, help me up.”
“We need to get you to X-ray,” Teresa said. “You might have a broken bone.”
Oh no! That would require time and money I wasn’t willing to spend. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Rafe, would you help me up, please?”
“No, don’t do that,” the other nurse said, dashing up the stairs. “I’ll call for assistance.”
I glanced at Rafe and gave him a help me now look.
At that moment, Nikki came through the door, saw me, and cried, “Abby, what happened?”
“I missed a few steps,” I said as Nikki raced down the stairs toward me. “Teresa thinks I might have a broken bone.”
“Let’s get you down to X-ray,” she said. To Nurse Teresa she said, “I know these two. I’ll take responsibility for them.”
Rafe scooped me up and started down the stairs, calling back, “X-ray’s in the basement, right?”
“I’ll show you,” Nikki offered, leading the way.
I glanced over Rafe’s shoulder at the stunned nurse. “Thanks, Teresa. You’ve been a great help.”
“You’re a lot heavier than you look,” Rafe grunted, setting me down at the bottom. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
“Thanks for that.”
“Come on,” Nikki said, pushing on the door that led into the basement hallway. She took us to a waiting area filled with people, where we huddled in a corner to hear Nikki’s report.
“Harding’s not dying from cancer,” she said quietly. “His lymphoma is in remission.”
“Then why is he here?” I asked.
“According to his chart,” Nikki said, “Harding has multiple contusions, abrasions-”
“In English, Nikki,” I said. “The condensed version.”
“He’s in a coma.”
“A coma? From what?”
Nikki shrugged. “There’s nothing in the file about how he came to be in that condition, only what his condition is-severe trauma to his head, a crack in his skull, concussion, cuts, bruises, frostbite on his hands and face… Right now, he’s at high risk for dying.”
“When I saw Harding,” I said, “his eyes were open. Was he in a coma then?”
“Yes. That’s actually a common occurrence. The eyes are open, but we don’t know if the person actually sees anything.”
“Here’s what I want to know,” I said. “If Harding pulls through, will he be released or stay on for further cancer treatment?”
“Unless further tests show the cancer is flaring up, or he needs physical therapy from his head trauma, he’ll be released.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. “Did you happen to notice when Harding was admitted?” I asked.
“This morning.”
“What about for his cancer treatment?”
“Gee, I glanced at the file so quickly, but I believe he was transferred in about four weeks ago. I know he was released after five days of treatment. He’d probably be due back soon for follow-up blood-”
“Nikki,” we heard someone whisper. I glanced around and saw the other X-ray tech, Erin, motioning to her.
“I’ll be right there,” Nikki called back. “I’ve got to go, Abby.”
“Promise me you’ll keep an eye out in case Harding does recover and is released.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks for your help, Nik,” I said, giving her a hug. “I know you took a risk for me.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
Make that I’d done the same for her.
I turned to look for Rafe and saw him leaning against the wall, flirting with Erin. “Rafe,” I called. “Let’s go.”
As he started toward me, Nikki said, “Wait, Abby. I just remembered something.”
I grabbed Rafe’s coat sleeve before he could head back toward Erin. “How about pulling the car up to the door, Romeo?”
“Will do,” Rafe said, then winked at Erin and strode toward the door.
“Slowly!” I called before turning back to Nikki. “What did you remember?”
“H. Bebe was listed on the initial admission form as Harding’s contact person.”
“Charlotte H. Bebe?”
“It just said H. Bebe. I figured it was either her or a relative.” Nikki showed me the digits she’d jotted on her palm. “Here’s the number if you want to look it up.”
“Better yet,” I said, moving closer to the exit, “I’ll call and see who answers. It certainly wouldn’t be Charlotte.” As I pulled out my cell phone and punched in the number, I said to Nikki, “Do you realize that if H. Bebe is Charlotte, we’ll have a link between Harding and the kidnappers?”
“Hello?” a female voice said in my ear.
Yikes. I hadn’t planned what to say. “I’m, um, looking for a friend of mine. To whom am I speaking, please?”
“Just tell me your friend’s name,” came her curt reply.
“Charlotte.”
The woman’s voice became brittle. “What is this? A sick joke?”
“No! Not at all. I just-”
The line went dead.
“What happened?” Nikki asked as I slid my phone into my purse.
“The woman on the other end accused me of playing a sick joke on her.”
“She wouldn’t say that unless she knew Charlotte was dead.”
“It must be Charlotte’s sister!” I hit REDIAL, hoping I could keep her on the phone long enough to explain why I’d called, but this time it went straight to voice mail.
Nikki’s pager beeped. She glanced around at Erin, who was gesturing for her to hurry. “I have to go, Ab. See you at home.” As she trotted up the hallway, she called back, “Are we still on for our double-date dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sure are.”
“That’ll be fun.”
For some of us more than others.
Outside, I found Rafe waiting with my car. I slid into the passenger seat and showed him the number on my palm. “I need to find out who this woman is.”
“Let’s get to a computer,” he said.
Back at my apartment, Rafe headed toward the fridge for a beer, while I hung my coat on the back of the chair. “If we can find this H. Bebe’s address, Rafe, and it isn’t far from here, are you up for another field trip tonight?”
“Just say the word.”
“Let’s not bother Marco with the details of our evening, okay? I can tell him Nikki provided the information, but he doesn’t need to know we left here to get it.”
“Kind of a quid pro quo deal, then, right?”
“What do you mean?”
Rafe twisted the cap off a bottle and took a swig. “I mean, I’ll keep quiet, but then you owe me a favor.”
Great. Another payback. I tossed my car keys on the counter. “What’s the favor?”
“I met this awesome girl at Hooters, and I want to take her out Friday night, but I don’t have wheels, so…” He picked up my car keys and dangled them, smiling.
My stomach sank. The speed demon wanted to use my Vette? I’d walked right into that one. It was fair punishment, I supposed, for going behind Marco’s back.
I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Okay. Sure. If you-”
“Awesome.”
“Hold on. I was about to say if you promise to keep the speed below thirty-five, park far away from other cars, and not bring any food or drink inside the vehicle-or make out in it. Because if you put one dent, nick, stain, scratch, or smidge of yucky DNA matter in it-”
“Be cool, Freckles. I’ve never had a single car accident.” He sat down at the desk and logged on to the Internet. “Give me that phone number. I’ll do a reverse lookup.”
As Rafe worked at the computer, my home phone rang, reminding me that I hadn’t checked for messages. What if Marco had called while I was out? How would I explain neither of us answering? As I dashed to get it, I glanced at the red light on the machine, and was relieved to see it wasn’t blinking. Whew. He hadn’t called. He would have left a message. I’d have to be more careful in the future.
“How’s it going?” Marco asked.
“Everything’s fine here.” I nibbled my lip, hoping he wouldn’t question me about my evening. “What’s going on there?”
“I’m just finishing up my ledgers; then I’m going to head out to do some surveillance. So Rafe’s behaving himself?”
“Yes, he’s behaving.”
“I found the address,” Rafe called.
I motioned for him to be quiet.
“What’s happening?” Marco asked. “What did Rafe just yell?”
“He’s playing a game on the computer. How late do you think you’ll be?”
“Let’s see. It’s seven thirty now… I’m sure it’ll be well after midnight.”
I heard the weariness in his voice and felt guilty once again for being partly to blame. “That’s a long day for you, Marco. I wish you didn’t have to get up early to take me to work.”
“It’s for a good cause. That’s you, in case you forgot.”
I was going to have to tear up that chart. This man was all pluses. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?”
“I’d rather you showed me,” came his sexy growl.
“Anytime, Salvare. Good luck with the surveillance.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you later.”
Eek. What if I was out? “Marco, use my cell phone if you need to reach me, okay?”
“Sure. Are you still having trouble with your landline?”
“Well-”
“You have to keep on the phone company, Abby.”
“Okay.”
“Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too, Marco.”
I hung up and unplugged the phone from the jack, then looked at the address Rafe had printed out. “Sixteen forty-three Gray Heron Drive, New Buffalo, Michigan. Can you pull it up on a Google map?”
In a few keystrokes, Rafe brought up a map, and I leaned over to study it. “Looks like about an hour’s drive from here.”
“I say we go check it out,” he said, starting to rise.
I pushed him back down. “Marco gave me firm instructions that I was not to let you talk me into leaving the apartment.”
“But I thought-”
I put my hand over his mouth. “Wait for it… Okay. I say we go check it out.”
“If you insist.”
This time, I drove the Corvette, but I took the precaution of wearing my black wool cap with my hair tucked up beneath it. I wasn’t about to take any chances of being spotted. With my hair color, it was like waving a red flag.
We headed north toward Lake Michigan, then took Route 20 around the bottom of the lake and crossed the Indiana state line into Michigan, following the Red Arrow Highway up to New Buffalo. Using the map Rafe had printed out, we located a development called Heron Cove, where hundreds of identical town houses were situated cheek by jowl on looping streets with a golf course at the center.
Deep into the development, I finally found Gray Heron Drive. The mailboxes were at the curbs, with brass numerals running vertically down thick wooden posts to indicate the addresses. I slowed in front of the mailbox marked 1643 and studied the two-story brick and cedar town house it belonged to.
“No lights on inside or out,” I said. “Either the owner isn’t home or is asleep.”
Rafe checked his watch. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet. I’ll go with not home.”
I parked in a visitor’s parking area down the block, and sat in the car, deciding what to do. Did I ring the bell and see if anyone answered the door? Talk to neighbors to find out the identity of the town house’s occupants? What would Marco do?
Rafe opened the door and got out.
“Where are you going?” I called.
“To see who lives at that address.”
I jumped out of the car, shut the door, and hurried after him. “We need a plan.”
“I don’t know the person who lives there,” Rafe called over his shoulder, “and she doesn’t know me, so what’s the harm in knocking on the door?”
“But the person might know me, and that might not be a good thing.”
“Then stay out of sight.”
Rafe was not a chip off Marco’s block; that was certain. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to talk to the neighbors first?”
“That’s the girly way to do it.” He started up the sidewalk to the front door of 1643, so I dashed for a nearby shrub and crouched behind it-in two inches of snow.
Rafe knocked, waited, rang the bell several times, and waited some more.
“No one’s home,” I called. “Let’s go.”
“What do you know?” he said. “It’s not locked.”
Unlocked door? No one answering? I knew what Marco would do. He’d phone the police. I peeked around the shrub and saw Rafe step inside the house.
Exactly what I would have done.
I jumped up and ran after him. “Wait, Rafe! Don’t touch anything!”
“Hello?” he called. “Anyone home? I’m coming in now.”
By the time I stepped inside, the younger Salvare was checking out the living room of the narrow, two-story home. “Look at that giant TV,” he said. “Someone has some big bucks.”
I left the door partway open in case we had to make a run for it. “Don’t touch anything with your bare fingers. You don’t want to leave prints.”
“I have a delivery,” Rafe called, standing in the kitchen doorway.
He used the edge of his jacket to flip the light switch on. I peered under his arm and saw a kitchen filled with high-end appliances-Bosch, Viking-with lots of black marble counter space and tall, cream-colored cabinets. On the island sat a glossy red dinner plate containing a half-eaten pork chop and a mound of mashed potatoes, with an open beer bottle beside it.
“Looks like someone didn’t clean his plate,” I said. I pulled up my coat sleeve and used my wrist to test the temperature of the bottle. Warm. I touched the potatoes with a knuckle. Cold.
Rafe used his jacket again to open a door and peer through the doorway. “One-car garage, no car.”
Front door was open, car was gone, and dinner was half eaten. “We’d better leave, Rafe. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“It’ll take just a moment to check out the upstairs.”
It took just a moment to fall off a cliff, too.
“Delivery,” Rafe announced again, leading the way up the oak staircase. He proceeded cautiously, pausing to listen every few steps as he repeated his call.
A clock in the entryway began to chime. When it struck ten, I realized my mistake. “Rafe, we’re on Eastern time here!” I whispered. “Someone could be asleep up there.”
“Too late now,” he whispered back, and stepped around a corner. Hearing nothing, I followed.
The first doorway opened into an opulent bathroom, with more black marble counters and double sinks, gold fixtures, a glassed-in shower-for-two, and a big Jacuzzi tub. I used a tissue to open a cabinet below one sink and saw the usual cleaning products, roll of paper towels, extra toilet paper, and the same beneath the other sink.
In a medicine cabinet in the side wall next to one sink I found an assortment of bandages, skin lotions, and over-the-counter cold remedies. The medicine cabinet on the opposite side had toothpaste, mouthwash, shaving cream, and men’s deodorant.
I pulled out the drawers below the under-sink cabinets, but save for traces of loose face powder, a few long, golden blond hairs, and smudges of lipstick, they’d been cleaned out.
“Looks like two people live here,” I said, “but it’s odd that all the woman’s products are gone and not the man’s.”
“Maybe she ran away with another guy,” Rafe said. “Maybe her husband hasn’t come home yet.”
“Maybe we should leave before he gets here.”
But Rafe was already through the next doorway into a bedroom decorated in beige and blue. “Don’t leave prints!” I reminded him.
“Nothing in the closet or dresser,” Rafe reported. “Must be a guest room.”
Across the hall was a second bedroom done in pinks and purples, silks and satins, with a plump, quilted silk head-board and a pile of furry throw pillows. I opened one of two closets opposite the bed to find a row of empty hangers. Rafe opened the other closet and found men’s clothing-jeans, plaid work shirts, corduroy jackets, and the like-most of it folded and stacked on shelving.
“The guy must work with his hands,” Rafe said. “No suits, ties, or dress shoes.”
He checked a drawer in the bedside table. “Magazine, box of tissues, phone book… Aw, look. A Valentine.” Rafe opened it, then showed it to me.
Beneath the verse was a signature scrawled in large, heavy handwriting: Tom.
Harding?
“Hello?” I heard a man call from downstairs. “Who’s up there?”
I glanced at Rafe in shock. He motioned for me to stay quiet. “Who’s down there?”
“You first,” came a male voice.
“I told you we should have left,” I whispered. “What are we going to use as our excuse?”
“We got the wrong house?”
“Never mind. Let me handle it.”
“Okay, but open your coat and undo a few buttons of your shirt first.”
I gave him a scowl.
We crept up the hallway and peered around the corner to see down the staircase to the front hallway.
Four sheriff’s deputies had their weapons aimed at us.
Damn.