Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6)(19)

Would she ever see him again?

For the past couple of months, they’d been dancing around making any sort of real commitment. They had recently exchanged keys and alarm codes, but that had been born of convenience, not real progress in their relationship. The sex was great. Neither one of them had any issues with physical intimacy. Emotional dependency seemed to be a bigger hurdle.

Both had been single and set in their ways for a very long time. Olivia had become comfortable living alone. The thought of having to make daily compromises, to alter her space, to change her structured life had seemed too disruptive.

Their arrangement over the past few months had stalled. They’d both been stubbornly careful not to leave personal possessions in each other’s spaces other than a toothbrush and deodorant, certainly nothing that would require a drawer and the level of commitment that would imply.

But now that she was shivering and alone in the dark, all their desperate maneuvers to maintain their independence felt stupid, and all the ways she’d actively avoided compromise seemed shallow.

There was a very good possibility her life would end soon. People were not taken from their homes in the middle of the night for innocuous reasons. Her kidnapper had some sort of dark plan in mind.

Her claustrophobia picked at her determination to remain calm. Her throat constricted, and her breathing accelerated.

She needed to keep busy or she’d go crazy. She hobbled around the perimeter. She would check every inch of her prison for a way out or a potential weapon.

How long would she be locked underground?





Chapter Nine

Lance drove toward home and dialed Sharp on speakerphone.

“Did you learn anything from the neighbors?” Sharp asked.

“Maybe.” Lance turned right. “The retired man who lives diagonal to Olivia saw a white utility van parked across the street multiple times over the past two weeks. He assumed it was a contractor working for the family down the street. I’ve spoken to all the neighbors. No one was having work done over the past couple of weeks. I plan to check with the township and utility and cable companies in the morning. There could very well be a legitimate source for the white van.”

Sharp paused, as if mulling over the information. “How reliable is this guy?”

“He’s probably in his eighties, but he seemed articulate and coherent. The same neighbor says he saw a tall blond man knock on Olivia’s door last evening around seven p.m. She didn’t answer, and he left. He was driving a 1971 Chevy Nova in black or dark blue.”

“A white van is too vague of a description to search vehicle registrations, although it could be good supporting evidence after we’ve located a suspect. But a black or dark-blue ’71 Nova is a very specific vehicle. We should be able to find out if any are registered in Randolph County.”

“I called my mom. She’s on it,” Lance said. “I’ll let you know if she gets a hit.”

“Thanks.” Sharp ended the call.

Just after six thirty, Lance opened the front door to be greeted by an avalanche of kids and dogs. When he’d first moved in with Morgan’s family, he’d been wary of the noise and activity level. Six months later, he embraced chaos.

Morgan’s youngest, Sophie, catapulted herself into his arms. Expecting the leap, he caught her and set her on his hip. She hugged him with all four of her spindly limbs. Ava, at seven, was normally more reserved, but tonight she flung her arms around his waist. Six-year-old Mia gave him a quick hug and hopped away like a rabbit.

“Let Lance get in the door.” Gianna stood at the rear of the pack, drying her hands on a dish towel. With a shiny brown ponytail and slender body, she looked younger than nineteen. The young woman was in much better health than when she’d first come to live with Morgan. Kidney disease and required dialysis treatments kept her thinner than she should be, but her smile was wide and her patience unending as she attempted to quiet the girls. “Did everyone use the bathroom and wash their hands?”

The girls turned and raced for the half bath down the hall.

“That should give you a minute.” Gianna laughed. “I made chicken parm. Do you want to eat now or when you get back from the store?”

He heard the toilet flushing and water running. They’d be back in seconds.

“I can wait,” Lance said.

Springs creaked, and Lance glanced into the family room, where Morgan’s grandfather, Art Dane, was levering his body out of his recliner.

Art used his cane to walk into the foyer. “The kids are a little excited.”

“I can see that.” Lance greeted the dogs at his feet. French bulldog Snoozer snuffled his shoes, while rescue dog Rocket leaned on his leg. He gave each dog an ear rub.

“Halloween,” Gianna explained with one word. She tossed the towel over one shoulder. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. We’ll be fine.” Lance shook his head. Today was Friday. Gianna had had dialysis that morning. She’d be tired.

The girls returned at a run. Ava and Mia put on their sneakers. Mia’s tongue stuck out from between her teeth as she concentrated on tying her laces. Sophie shoved her feet into a pair of knee-high rubber rain boots. They were bright yellow and covered with red ladybugs, and she’d worn them everywhere for the last two weeks.

“Hurry up!” Sophie bounced on her toes as she waited for Mia to finish.