Page 4 of Abra's Acquisition
That’s when I remember driving over to speak with Blake Erickson the previous evening. He claimed to have information that I needed to see, but then he attacked me before I could see it. Why? What reason could he have for kidnapping me?
I glance around the room again and take it in. All the furniture looks to be well-made and expensive. The bed and dresser are definitely antiques. All the furniture may have a history. I slide off the bed and find my shoes placed neatly next to the bed. After slipping them on, I explore the room. My first stop is the door. I’m unsurprised to find it is locked from the outside. So, onto my next goal, the window. The bars on it tell me I’m not going that way, either. Well, shit. Now what?
A quick search of the room reveals nothing I can use as a weapon. I consider breaking the wooden chair situated in the far corner, but it's an antique. I’m not sure how I feel about breaking it. I have a profound respect for history, which is why I became a lawyer specializing in historic preservation and cultural resource management. However, I’ll overcome my reticence if breaking the chair is my only path to freedom. After a second search of the room, I study the chair and consider my options. However, before I can break it, the doorknob rattles and the door opens to reveal Erickson.
I glower at him and offer my most indignant stance. I consider demanding answers, but I don’t want to give him the control. Instead, I wait.
“You’re awake. Good. Are you hungry?” Without waiting for a reply, he backs out and allows an older woman to enter. She carries a tray to the bed, sets it down, and rushes back out of the room without a glance in my direction.
“If you think she’ll call the police, she won’t. She’s in the country illegally and knows I’ll happily hand her over to ICE if she does anything that displeases me. You’re here until I get what I want.”
“Which is?’ I ask, sliding over to the bed to peruse the tray. Creamy scrambled eggs and hashbrowns share a plate. Another plate has two pieces of toast, while a third has bacon. There is also a small bowl of grits. There are even beignets and a cup of chicory. At least I won’t starve. I lift the cup and breathe in the heady aroma even while considering the intelligence of tossing the hot liquid into Blake’s face. Since I don’t like my odds of escaping, I take a sip and just imagine the damage I’d like to do to him.
“I want my figurine back. I need it, and you’re going to help me get it,” Erickson says.
I frown at him as I take a seat on the bed and pick up the plate of beignets. If I’m going to die today, I certainly don’t want to pass up tasting these delectable pastries one last time. “What figurine and why do you think I know how to get it for you?”
“Don’t play coy. I know you were working with that bastard. You were the distraction so he could waltz in here and steal from me.”
I lick the powdered sugar off my fingers as I try to figure out who the bastard is that he’s speaking about. Coming up empty, I shake my head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Lucifer’s Heir,” Erickson snarls.
I don’t immediately recognize the name, but as I chew on my second bite of delectable goodness, I place the name. “Isn’t he a magician? I thought he retired.”
“He did. Now he’s a member of the Demon Dawgs.”
I widen my eyes in surprise. How did a magician end up becoming a member of a motorcycle club? “He is? Seriously?” I chuckle at the thought, but then realize I know who Erickson is talking about—the broody member of the club that I met yesterday. He was the one prepared to mete out some pain on the assholes who kidnapped me. I knew he looked familiar. So, that’s the great and powerful magician who packed every venue in the city and beyond.
“You know who I’m talking about now?” Erickson sneers.
“I think so. I met him yesterday.”
“You met him yesterday? Now, why don’t I believe you? You were both here in my office less than a week ago. You kept me occupied talking while he helped himself to my collection. Do you deny it?”
I keep eye contact as I nod slowly. “I don’t know Lucifer’s Heir, or whatever he’s calling himself now. You’ve made a mistake. I’m not working with him. I came here to discuss yourplans at your request. You rejected my offer to meet in my office. Remember?”
“Of course, I remember. You tried to get me out of the house, but I was too smart for you. I made you come here. But that didn’t stop Lucifer’s Heir from breaking in. He isn’t as smart as he thought he was. I caught him on camera. He avoided all the other cameras, but he didn’t see the one that I installed specifically to monitor the figurine. Want to see? Wait here.”
I raise my eyebrow in question as he exits the room and locks the door behind him. Where does he think I’m going while locked in the room? I’m beginning to think Erickson is unhinged. While I wait, I polish off the breakfast. It’s filling, and I know I’ll need my strength if I have any chance of getting the hell out of here. I take the plate that held the toast and consider breaking it in half to create two weapons. Lifting the bedspread, I position the plate so that it sits on the bed frame. Tossing the spread back in place, I move the tray to the bureau and then return to my seat.
Erickson returns holding an iPad. He ignores the tray as he taps his fingers on the screen. As soon as he finds what he’s searching for, he turns the device so I can better see the screen. On it is the still image of a man wearing all black, including a black ski mask over his face, as he stands against a wall and stares across the room. In a fluid motion, he pushes off the wall and approaches a display case with a tiny figurine inside. The figurine looks like a clown dressed for Mardi Gras. The thief snatches the figurine before moving out of camera range.
“Okay, I see that someone stole a figurine, but I don’t recognize him,” I tell Blake as I hand the iPad back to him. He refuses to take it, pushing it back into my hands before tapping the screen again.
“Don’t you want to see what he’s staring at?” he asks, nodding toward the display.
I roll my eyes and glance back at the screen to see a video taken from a different angle. I can’t see the display case or the thief, but I can see myself sitting in a chair across from Erickson’s desk. My outfit, a purple pencil skirt paired with a matching jacket, suggests that this was taken on the day I visited Erickson to discuss plans for my meeting with the VCC.
“Okay, so it was the day I came here to discuss the meeting with the VCC. You invited me to meet with you in your home office. I don’t see how you could think I was involved with the theft. In fact, I don’t see how you can know who stole the item. The cops won’t just take your word for it.” I consider telling Erickson that my brothers are cops, but I refrain. He’s already unhinged. What would he do if he learns about them?
When Erickson’s phone rings, he pulls it out and frowns at it. He leaves the room, but remembers to lock the door. I still have Erickson’s iPad. I move to the home page and search for an app that can help me, but before I can, the door opens to allow the housekeeper to return. She doesn’t look at me, but picks up the tray. I watch her study the items on the tray and notice when she realizes a plate is missing. Rather than say anything, she leaves the room just as silently as she entered.
When I hear Erickson speak to the woman, I shove the iPad under the pillows. I’m hoping he forgets about it. He enters the room with a look of triumph on his face.
“If you weren’t involved, then why did Lucifer’s Heir call me and offer to return the figurine in exchange for your freedom? Seems to me, if you weren’t his partner in crime, he wouldn’t care about your well-being, would he?”
CHAPTER FIVE: ABRA
