Day of Reckoning Read online

  At the door, Lela gave the office one last look. “I have a question. I found a lot of old correspondence and newspaper clippings in Chuck’s desk drawer. Do you know why he might have them?”

  “Who knows? He’s always had strange hobbies.” Jay tucked the little key into his shirt pocket.

  “If the safe deposit box doesn’t produce any leads, we can come back for the files.”

  “If Chuck took this much trouble to hide the key, I’m convinced the box will provide something to help us or at least a hint of where to look next. That’s his style.”

  Lela locked the door behind them and handed Chuck’s keys back to Jay. “Nothing more we can do here now. Let’s go home. I’m bushed.”

  He followed her into the elevator, his brow furrowed.

  Lela punched the button for their parking garage level and glanced at Jay. Did he have more to add to his last statement? When he returned her regard with a clear brow and an innocent smile, she dismissed the notion.

  The elevator stopped on the seventh floor where a middle-aged woman in a smart dark suit entered. Her overpowering floral perfume filled the confined space. Lela placed her index finger under her nose and caught Jay’s amused grin.

  Standing behind the woman, he arched his eyebrows and exaggerated a silent pretend sneeze.

  Lela ignored him, but he did it again, this time twitching his nose like a giant jackrabbit. Turning to the side, she stifled a giggle.

  Perfume Lady opened her black leather purse, rummaged inside, and withdrew a petite, ornate glass bottle. She dabbed perfume behind her ears and on her wrists. The cloying, artificial rose fragrance saturated the air.

  The overwhelming odor was too much for Lela. Her attempts to smother her mirth didn’t work. Jay pinched his cheeks together and stared at his feet.

  When the elevators doors opened, Perfume Lady glared at them and then pranced out, the heels of her black stilettos drumming out a staccato beat of irritation.

  Tired and hungry, Lela had little strength to stand upright while laughing so hard it hurt. She linked arms with Jay and together they made their way to her truck, their hilarity echoing in the cavernous garage. Lela fastened her seatbelt and wiped the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t laughed with such abandon in a long time.

  Still chuckling, Jay said, “I will never forget that sickeningly sweet scent. Why would she go overboard like that?”

  “Don’t ask me. I seldom wear the stuff.” While merging into the far lane on Columbia Street, Lela sensed Jay’s eyes on her. “What?”

  “You don’t need to wear, um, I mean you don’t…” He turned and faced the side window. “Never mind. I’m tired and don’t know what I’m saying.”

  They rode in silence the rest of the way to La Jolla. Bits and pieces of their conversations since meeting twelve hours ago trickled into Lela’s brain. His words and actions showed his love for his family. He liked to joke. And he prayed at the oddest times.

  Lela stopped at the Davenports’ gate and punched in the code. He prayed by…talking. No hands together, on his knees, or repeating pat phrases. I didn’t know one could pray like that. Shaking her head, she stopped on the wide cobbled driveway near the front door.

  When they entered the house, Beth greeted them and joined them at the table while they ate. The children had already eaten and were preparing for bed. The aroma of the enchilada casserole filled the room.

  Lela had to slow down eating for fear of embarrassing herself by gobbling the food like a stray dog.

  Jay told Beth about the safe deposit key, and they set a time to visit the bank.

  Picking up her empty plate, Lela asked, “Can I help with the dishes?”

  “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” Beth took the plate from her and stacked Jay’s on top. “I’ll set these in the dishwasher.”

  Lela’s room at the back of the house overlooked the fenced pool and lush gardens aglow in strategically placed landscape lighting, but she had no desire to admire the view. She fished a tan sleep shirt from her overnight bag. When she entered the bathroom tiled in shades of peach, instant tranquility surrounded her. While the tub filled over lavender scented crystals, she stripped off her shirt.

  Her bubble of serenity burst. Another round-neckline garment. No feminine tops for her anymore. Although the scars on her abdomen were the most severe, she didn’t want curious stares or questions about those on her chest and neck. Keep them covered. The scars on her torso itched more than usual. The ones on her thighs, along with the reminder of a bullet wound, seldom bothered her. Except to look at.

  An oval mirror hung above the double vanity. She studied her reflection and knotted her hair on top of her head. Her bruised jaw, now pale purple, would be easy to camouflage under foundation. Too bad she hadn’t packed any makeup.

  Ignoring the constant tightness of the scar tissue, she turned away from the reminder of her dark past and tested the temperature of the water. Perfect.

  The warm water soothed her aching muscles and tired mind. She relaxed and closed her eyes. Drifting into a quasi-dream that featured Jay, she jerked awake, splashing water onto the floor.

  She struggled upright, her heart clamoring for an escape. No. No, she would not allow another man into her life.

  17

  Footsteps down the hall sounded a warning. Chuck blinked away the fog of sleep.

  Light from the street slanted through the blinds covering the side window, slicing the darkness of the room into slivers.

  The steps slowed, grew closer. His body tensed against the restraints willing the person to pass by his room.

  The knob squeaked.

  Chuck eyed the door.

  Walter entered. “Are you awake? Want to shower?”

  Taut muscles relaxed into the lumpy mattress. “Please.”

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” Walter said as he removed the rope from Chuck’s wrists.

  “I won’t. It’s not like I can run a marathon with this ankle. It might be broken.”

  “You couldn’t walk on it if it was.”

  While Chuck scratched the irritated areas on his wrists, Walter grabbed him under the arm and hauled him to a stand. “Stop looking for sympathy.”

  Chuck shuffled through the other bedroom and down the hall leaning on Walter’s arm. “It’s kinda quiet. Where are the others?”

  “Busy.” Standing to one side, Walter allowed Chuck to enter the tiny bathroom. “There’re bars on the window in here, and I’ll be right outside the door. Be quick.”

  Chuck balanced on the edge of the commode and pulled his ragged T-shirt over his head. “How about a change of clothes?”

  “The best I can do is a clean T-shirt. It’s on the counter.” He gestured toward a mound of fabric next to a towel.

  “Thanks. And a razor?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  “Then, how about an explanation since your buddies are out of earshot. Who’s behind this?” Grimacing as he eased off his right sandal, Chuck rested back against the tank.

  “You’ll find out when I choose the time.”

  Chuck removed his other sandal. “Why won’t you let me go? I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Yeah, you do. I succumbed to your demands, and now it’s your turn.”

  “I’m trying, but I keep telling you I don’t have any more photos. No notes.”

  “The boss says you do.” Walter pointed in Chuck’s direction. “She caught you…” He slapped his forehead.

  “She caught me doing what?” Rubbing his swollen jaw, Chuck squinted up at Walter. “Who? Come on, Walt. For old time’s sake. Who are you working for?”

  “That’s enough stalling. Get a move on.”

  “Does she know where we are?”

  “No.” Walter shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought it best that she, uh, not know. And while we’re getting chummy, the others don’t know who she is. You won’t get her name from them.”

  Sensing a thaw in his captor’s
mood, Chuck searched for any reason to prolong the conversation. He banked on his former friendship with Walter to induce the guy to release him.

  Aha, Walter withdrew a silver cigarette lighter from his pocket. Chuck recognized it instantly. It had Walter’s initials engraved on the front, and he’d used it constantly. “You kept that thing?”

  Walter flicked it time and again, but no spark flamed. He threw it into the corner and laughed, a mirthless sound. “It worked fine until now. It’s dead like my career. And my…”

  Easy, don’t antagonize him. “I had no choice, Walter. I had to let you go.” Chuck leaned over and turned on the tub’s faucet. At least pretend you’ll shower to divert Walter’s attention. But he needn’t have worried.

  With a grunt, Walter stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall, and a kitchen chair scraped on the floor. Chuck fully expected the man to return and yank him back to his room, but after a few seconds of quiet, Chuck undressed, showered quickly, and then donned the clean shirt along with the rest of his stained clothes.

  Bathroom door open, Chuck peered up and down the hall. No sign of Walter or the other men. Sandals in hand, he limped toward the dark kitchen. No one in sight. At the back door, he slipped his feet into his sandals, ignoring the spear of pain that shot up from his ankle.

  Could he escape? What did he have to lose?

  Hand on the knob, he twisted it slowly and opened the door. Five inches, twelve. He stuck his head out and scanned the yard. Streetlight illuminated the side hedges and a row of trees and shrubs toward the back.

  Down one step. His heart pounded.

  Someone in the distance coughed. He paused.

  No time to assess his decision. Chuck jumped off the stairs and, stifling a groan, stooped low and hobbled across the yard.

  Almost to the hedge.

  Footsteps rustled through the weeds.

  Chuck pressed into the dense shrubs.

  A silhouetted man climbed the back steps and entered the kitchen. Five seconds later, Walter hollered from the door, “Chuck, where are you?”

  18

  Tossing the covers aside, Jay climbed out of bed and slouched on the bay window seat. Cool, tangy air tousled the sheer curtains. He weighed them down with a cushion. As he looked out at the night-shrouded ocean, tiny lights on a fishing boat or pleasure yacht bobbed up and down in the distance. He scratched his whiskered chin. What he wouldn’t give right now to be out on the sea, free from his tangled mess of problems. Chuck’s kidnapping and the ensuing difficulties for Beth and the kids topped the pack.

  What if Chuck never came home? An ache like slow moving lava flowed through Jay’s chest. Beth would crumble. Maybe even lose touch with reality. And the kids? Jay would adopt them, no question.

  “Can I handle four children? I love them, but I don’t know how to be a dad.” He bit his lip, drawing blood. “Dear God. I’m not ready. I’ll fail. Please bring Chuck back to us.” His breathing evened out as he absorbed the tranquility of the ocean, but other riddles demanded attention.

  The unanswered questions. Did Chuck have a postcard of the national park, or did it belong to one of his captors? Also gnawing at his conscience was an empty blister package of terbutaline he’d found at the ranch house.

  Gary, his neighbor, took the prescribed medication to treat asthma.

  One of Chuck’s kidnappers could have the condition, but the other possibility ratcheted Jay’s anxiety up a notch. Weeks ago, Chuck had questioned him at length about Gary’s use of terbutaline. How often did he take it? Were there any side effects? Was it expensive?

  When Jay had asked why Chuck wanted the information, he had shrugged and said, “Doing research on a new project.”

  At the time, Jay hadn’t thought much about the conversation, but now his heartbeat intensified. Why terbutaline? Did Chuck’s interest have something to do with the trouble he was in? Jay could ask the question again and again and still come up with zilch. Would he ever understand his brother-in-law? Cooled by the salty air, Jay pressed against the padded backrest. “God, I surrender my concerns about Chuck over to you. Help us find him unharmed.”

  A distant car horn intruded on the silence.

  Jay sighed. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t shelve his own problems.

  Next week he’d receive his final lucrative paycheck. Leon Valdez would tear up his resignation in a flash if Jay changed his mind. But there had to be more to life than planning luxury accommodations for the wealthy.

  And Kate. Their recent meeting had stirred up old emotions. And old concerns. Conversations from their many disagreements resurfaced. “Why don’t you quit your job? I hate it when you have to work out of state.”

  Countless times, she’d offered to find him a job through her Hollywood contacts. He didn’t want a run-of-the-mill job. He wanted to make a difference.

  He invariably countered her proposition with his request. “Come to church with me Sunday. I miss having you with me, studying the Bible.”

  Her answer contained variations on a theme. “I can’t. Attending a big party for a client.” Or “I have a major interview.”

  A blast of air loosened the curtain and it flapped across his face as if wiping a slate clean. Kate wasn’t the right woman for him. Yes, he’d made the right decision. But she had a point. Being in and out of the state made it more difficult for him to find the woman he wanted to marry.

  The message she’d left on his phone earlier indicated she wanted him to reconsider their relationship. He had loved her. Wrenching a cushion from the corner, he plunged his fist into its soft center. There were important values he refused to compromise. Marriage to a godly woman was one goal he couldn’t relinquish. When Chuck came home safe and sound, he’d call Kate, or better yet, meet with her and reiterate his stance.

  Satisfied with finding a solution to one of his major problems, Jay returned to bed. But sleep eluded him for a long time, and when it came, it was interrupted by visions of brunette Lela. Blonde Kate was nowhere in sight.

  19

  Chuck hunkered in the shrubs and held as still as the night air. Twigs scraped his bare calves while pain radiated from his ankle through his lower leg. He shouldn’t have jumped off the back steps, but he had to take advantage of Walter’s absence. Whenever they were around, he exaggerated his limp. Now he needed no embellishment. Hidden by the foliage, Chuck scanned the driveway.

  Walter barreled around the house, the beam from his flashlight bouncing off the bushes. He cussed and muttered, “I’m gonna find you, Chuck. And when I do, you’re gonna be sorry.”

  Where were the other thugs?

  Hunching lower, Chuck attempted to press further in. Walter would not treat his running away lightly. If caught, Chuck would face his captor’s wrath.

  A ray of light danced dangerously close to Chuck’s hiding place. He remained motionless and prayed for Walter to stay on the driveway or head in the opposite direction.

  Swear words flew like darts as the man tromped over weeds to the front of the house.

  Wait. Wait. How many times had Chuck signed that word to his son? The ache in his ankle was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Would he ever see his family again? Had anyone at home interpreted his message to Sean? He peered through the leaves.

  Illuminated by the streetlights, Walter’s frame prowled near a large sedan in the driveway.

  Now was his chance. Chuck inched up, biting his lip as a hot shard shot through his ankle. He hobbled toward the rear fence, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. All clear.

  The dilapidated fence loomed mere feet ahead. Two, three more steps. Hand on the sagging wire mesh, Chuck sucked in a big breath before maneuvering his right leg over. Could he balance on his injured ankle? One way to find out. He planted his foot flat on the ground, hesitated a second, then swung his other leg over the fence.

  Agony. He gasped then clamped his lips shut and clung to the fence, gritting his
teeth. To continue his escape with any sense of speed, he needed a crutch. Using the fence as support, he edged through the weeds and brush in the alley between the houses and finally came to a scraggly tree. Perfect. He found a branch stout enough for a cane. One he could rip off the trunk.

  On his second try, the branch cracked free. Minus the twigs, it became his aid. He limped down the lane, heading for the lighted street at the end.

  Dogs barked in a yard to his left.

  Motionless, he listened for other menacing sounds. Nothing suspicious. He stumbled forward.

  Vehicles zoomed by on the street.

  Chuck’s pace increased, despite the throbbing ache. Help. Phone. Freedom. He swallowed, tasting the sweetness of liberty. He grinned as he imagined hugging Beth and the kids. After a joyous reunion, he’d expose the nefarious activities of people in his office building.

  A whining car engine caught his attention. A strange sound. He slowed and stared at the street. A car reversed past the lane, stopped, and turned, its headlights aimed right at Chuck, blinding him for a second.

  He rushed to the fence, trying to blend in with the brush. His pale shirt and cutoffs glowed in the harsh light. Panic rose in his throat. Could he climb this fence? He made a quick attempt, but the barrier was too high.

  The ominous vehicle crawled down the lane toward him.

  Using his cane, Chuck hurried back the way he’d come, searching for a lower fence. There. A hedge. Could he squeeze through?

  A car door slammed. Footsteps. Gaining on his position.

  He dared not look back.

  A gap in the thick shrubs.

  Hurry. Ignore the pain. Chuck thrust the small branches aside. Sucked in his gut.

  A hand on his shoulder tried to stop him.

  He wriggled free. In the process, he lost his grip on the cane. Couldn’t stop to retrieve it. Branches scraped his arms and legs, but he rammed through the hedge.

  Lights shone in the large house. Silhouettes of three people through the window.

  He could use their phone. Chuck hobbled closer. Made it to the back door.