“Yeah. I saw her head out of the ballroom a while ago, and never saw her come back. So I went after her, you know, just to make sure she was okay. I found her purse and phone in a room way off to the back—some rinky little tea parlor where nobody is supposed to be. Her purse was on a table, but her phone was on the floor. Your number was up on the speed dial, but it looks like she didn’t have time to press ‘send.’ I’ve hunted everywhere I’m allowed to go in this fucking snobatorium, and can’t find her.”
Zane squelched his fear and channeled all energy and focus into saving Jillian. “Was anybody with her when she left?”
“Not that I saw, but this scene is jam-packed with bodies.”
“Where are you now?”
“In the tea parlor again. I thought she might come back for her stuff. But she didn’t.” His voice cracked. “You said someone was hassling her, what if—”
Zane couldn’t let himself go there. “You did a good job, Farley. Stay where you are. Don’t touch anything, don’t talk to anybody. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Zane sped up the dark, twisting highway, striving to keep at least two tires on the asphalt. “Calvin, call the inn, page the manager. Put me on speaker again.”
When the manager came on the line, Zane identified himself, recited his badge number and ordered the woman to enlist every employee to do a discreet room-to-room search for Jillian, and when they found her to have her call him. He had Calvin text a photo of her from the Center’s website.
Every muscle was taut, every instinct blaring. He still wasn’t gonna get backup from the locals because Jillian had only been missing a short time. And he only had the word of a preschooler that she might be in danger.
The bomb threat tying up every officer in the county was too damned convenient for comfort.
Lynn had cold-bloodedly poisoned a woman whose little boy was in the next room … and then terrorized that little boy.
Terrorizedhis son.
What did she have planned for his wife?
Andwhy?
In hindsight, Zane realized Casey had been upset every time Lynn was around. Maybe Lynn was afraid the kid wouldn’t be able to keep from telling Jillian, or Jillian would catch on to Casey’s reaction and realize something was wrong.
His fingers clenched on the wheel so hard he was surprised it didn’t bend. And if Lynn made Jillian disappear, she’d ensure the frightened, traumatized child would never breathe a word.
Zane stomped the gas pedal and drove like Jillian’s life depended on it.
Too long.
The endless, dark, twisting trip took way too fucking long.
The manager didn’t call back to say they’d found Jillian.
Jillian didn’t call either.
Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? What if that’d been his last chance—
He axed the thought and concentrated on the road. On his next course of action.
By the time Zane screeched the ‘Vette to a halt at the inn’s front door, he was revved and battle-ready.
He leapt out of the car and jogged up the steps, where the plump, middle-aged manager was waiting, per his latest instructions. “Take me to the tea parlor.”
The woman quickly led him through a warren of dim hallways on the first floor to a small, secluded room at the very back of the inn.
Inside, Farley paced from the window to an antique table and back. The teen spotted him, heaved a relieved sigh. He indicated Jillian’s purse on the table. “Her purse is right where I found it.”
“Show me where you found her phone,” Zane demanded.
“Over here.” He led Zane to a spot in the middle of the blue Oriental carpet.
Zane visually swept the area, and a glimmer near the edge of the carpet by the door caught his eye. He strode over, squatted, and his pulse kicked.