Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(13)

“That would do it,” D.D. muttered.

“She grabbed the hair spray from the edge of the counter,” Tessa continued. “See this one empty spot? Bet it sat right there. Ashlyn grabbed it, jumped up and started spraying. Kidnapper, grown man, probably not expecting resistance from a kid, takes it in the face. He stumbles back, and she starts to run.”

Neil studied her, nodding thoughtfully. “She ran for the master bedroom,” he murmured.

Tessa felt a little catch in her throat, couldn’t quite stop the sigh. Fifteen years old, scared out of her mind, the kid had run automatically for her parents. Forgetting in the moment that they weren’t home, couldn’t help her, couldn’t, in fact, do a damn thing to save her.

She followed Neil out of the bathroom, down the hall into the master suite. If the girl’s room had looked like a refugee camp, the master suite, in soothing shades of rich beige and chocolate brown, was a calm oasis. Huge king-size bed bearing some kind of leather-studded headboard. Dramatic floor-to-ceiling drapes, a chaise longue situated perfectly in front of a master fireplace, framed with yet more Italian marble.

The massive desk in the left corner held the first signs of fight or flight. The overstuffed executive chair had been toppled, wheels now pointing sideways. A heavy gold desk lamp had fallen to the floor. She could see where a drawer had been pulled out, quickly rifled.

“Letter opener,” Neil said. “Girl was a quick thinker, I’ll give her that. She grabbed the brass letter opener and went back at him.”

“Blood?”

“Not that we’ve found, but it was enough to get her by him again. Next, she headed for her room.”

Back into the hallway they went, a somber trio. No urine drops leading to the girl’s room, which explained how Neil had known that Ashlyn had run for the master bedroom first. By now, clothing back in place, bladder recovered, the girl was shifting gears from initial panic to fledgling strategy.

Tessa stopped in the hall, considering. “Why her bedroom? Why not go for the stairs?”

“When we find her, I’ll ask her,” Neil said. “For the moment, my best guess is she went for her phone.”

Tessa nodded. “Of course, lifeline for any teenager. First instinct is parents. Second instinct is phone a friend. When in doubt, text.”

The girl’s bedroom was a disaster. Upon closer inspection, Tessa could see that clothes hadn’t just been dropped on the floor, but flung around the room. Books, another table lamp, an alarm clock.

The intruder must’ve been close, maybe right on her heels, chasing her into the room and apparently around the bed as she threw various items behind her, hoping to trip him up, as she scrambled to grab her cell.

On the far side of the rumpled bed, Tessa spotted the dull brass letter opener, with a crystal handle. Chic-looking, she thought. Something bought to look classy on a desk, not necessarily to tear out an attacker’s jugular.

“She made it all the way here,” Tessa murmured. Then took in the rest of the story. A broken lamp, a cracked laptop computer, a shattered snow globe. “Jesus, she must’ve put up a helluva fight.”

“Don’t think she won,” Neil commented.

“And I don’t like to think about what it might have cost her,” D.D. added more quietly.

The blade of the letter opener was clean. Ashlyn had armed herself but not managed to retaliate.

“I think it took two of them,” Neil said. “Kidnapper one had to yell for kidnapper two for backup. I think kidnapper two had the black-soled shoes, because there’s no scuff marks in the bathroom or the master bedroom. Just the staircase. Meaning kidnapper two made the scuff marks as he ran up the stairs into the bedroom as reinforcement.”

Tessa nodded. Scuff marks were imperfect evidence, but on face value, that theory made sense.

“Now, while my esteemed colleague”—Neil shot a glance at D.D., who was beaming proudly at her top pupil—“was letting private investigators into the house, I was calling Scampo, which is where the housekeeper said the Denbes went for dinner. We’ll pull security video footage, but a parking valet at the Liberty Hotel remembers fetching Justin Denbe’s vehicle around ten P.M. The Denbes are apparently regulars, not to mention Justin tips well, so they’re well-known by the staff. Given the five-minute drive time, that puts the Denbes entering the house anytime around ten fifteen, give or take.”

“One of the first unanswered texts on Ashlyn’s phone is ten thirteen P.M.,” D.D. filled in.

“Yep,” Neil agreed. “I’m thinking the kidnappers were in the house by then. At the very least, two of them were chasing Ashlyn around upstairs. Meaning at least one more had to be stationed by the front door, waiting for the happy couple. They walk in, he Tasers Justin Denbe, going after the most logical threat first. Get the husband down, the wife shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

“He threw up?” Tessa asked with a frown.

“No, the wife threw up.”

“And you can tell…?”

“Again, according to the waiter at Scampo, the husband ate. The wife, on the other hand, mostly drank. Wasn’t so steady on her feet by the time they left. The pool of vomit, if you noticed—”

“Liquid. Which would be consistent with a woman who drank her dinner, instead of eating it,” Tessa filled in.