Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(59)

“Makes sense,” the blonde replied. “Their personal possessions were all piled on the kitchen island.”

Tessa got it, the point Wyatt was trying to make. “Detox,” she murmured.

The New Hampshire detective glanced at her, nodding appraisingly. “And how. Wonder if her abductors expected that little development. That one of their abductees would”—he glanced at his watch—“right about now start suffering from extremely painful, extremely high-maintenance withdrawal symptoms.”

Special Agent Adams turned at the end of the table. “She might even need medical care.”

“Avenues to start pursuing,” Wyatt said thoughtfully. “Assuming the kidnappers are willing to risk discovery by taking her to a local hospital. But, yeah, I’ll put out a bulletin to keep an eye on emergency rooms for a woman matching Libby Denbe’s description.”

“You think they’re still alive?” Tessa couldn’t help herself. She glanced at the FBI agent, then the New Hampshire sheriff’s detective. They both shrugged.

“Don’t know,” Special Agent Adams replied honestly, “though I certainly hope so.”

“I still put the odds in our favor,” Wyatt said. “If they wanted the family dead, no reason they couldn’t have taken care of business up close and personal, then left behind three bodies. The use of Tasers suggests to me there’s more at play here than simply eliminating the family.”

Tessa nodded, if only because it was late, and given their lack of immediate progress, she needed something to believe in.

“Tell you something else,” Wyatt continued. “This company, these people”—he grimaced—“what a bunch of liars.”

He said it so flatly, Tessa almost burst out laughing. But she recovered herself quickly enough to ask, “What makes you say that?”

“They’ve all got Justin Denbe’s back, except, you know, when they’re trying to buy his company. And the business is doing great, except, of course, there’s this whole new branch of mega-corporations that are stealing their jobs. Oh yeah, and they don’t know anything about the family’s secrets, except of course, when they are the family secret.”

“Who’s the family secret?” Special Agent Adams, looking confused.

“Anita Bennett. You didn’t pick up on that?”

“Pick up on what?”

Wyatt gave them both a look. “The expression on her face every time she said Justin’s father’s name. Telling you now, she wasn’t just one of Dale’s employees. She was one of his conquests. That whole unfaithful but loyal speech? Because Dale was unfaithful with her but remained loyal to his wife. Meaning when he died, both of the women in his life got shafted.”

“Mary left, Anita stayed behind,” Tessa murmured. “Continuing to rise up the corporate ranks, but thirty-five years later, still just an employee, never an owner.”

“Some people might get a little bitter about that,” Wyatt observed.

Special Agent Adams smiled for the first time all night. It was a particularly scary look for her. “And some people might decide to finally take what they believe they so richly deserve.”





Chapter 22


THEY TOOK JUSTIN AWAY.

Ashlyn had fallen asleep. I was drifting in and out, exhaustion dragging me under only for an achy, restless pain to prick me back to consciousness. My concussion, withdrawal, who knew. I dreamed of dark, turbulent seas, monsters and bared fangs and striking cobras. Then I would wake up, curled into a ball, shaking uncontrollably, head nearly shattering in agony.

I don’t think Justin was sleeping. Each time my eyes opened, I would find him standing at the cell door, shoulders back, face tense, a caged beast still seeking a way out. Or maybe a sentry, standing guard.

Either way, it didn’t save him.

The door blew open. That’s how it felt. I had dozed off, then suddenly, bam!

The steel door, flying open, two intruders pouring in. They each bore mattresses, held as shields below their dark helmeted heads. Faceplates obscured their features, until they appeared as dark, armor-plated beetles coming to get us. One of my own crazy dreams coming to life.

They were shouting, wielding clubs. The largest went straight after Justin, knocking him to the floor and beating him with a stick. Bam, bam, bam. Then the second was on Ashlyn, who was asleep on the lower bunk. A rabid beetle pouncing on her with the mattress, smothering her down.

I heard muffled screams, then I toppled off the top bunk, rolling onto the back of the beetle from hell. I whacked instinctively at his shoulders, except everything I smacked was padded or plated. My fists were useless. My daughter screamed and I hit and none of it made a difference.

Justin shouting from the floor: “I’ll go, I’ll go. Just leave them alone. Leave my family the f*ck alone!”

That quickly, Ashlyn’s attacker straightened, removing the mattress from her body, brushing me off his back. I fell hard, catching myself at the last second with my hands, because my head had already suffered enough.

Justin, already dragged to his feet, lurched to standing near the open cell door. Blood on the corner of his mouth, hands manacled before him.

His attacker grabbed his cuffed wrists and dragged him away.

Our attacker had his shield once again positioned against his body. He eased backward toward the open door. At the last moment, he flipped up his faceplate.