Chances Are(30)

“What about water…food? Has he allowed you either?”

“A little water, almost no food. He’s taken me to the bathroom twice a day and holds me while I go.”

She whispered the last sentence as though embarrassed.

“His shame…not yours.”

“What are we going to do?”

“My hands and legs are free. He lets us out…I’ll take care of him. Stay out of the way.”

“All right,” Clarissa whispered. “Thank you.”

Angela spoke with more confidence than she felt. Whatever the maniac had given her continued to play havoc with her thinking. And just from the small movements she’d managed to make inside the compartment, she doubted that her limbs would be cooperative when he released them from the box. Yet she had no choice, Clarissa was counting on her.

Without warning, the drug slammed through her with the force of an avalanche and she plunged into another world. Reality ceased to exist. Time stopped. Dramatic but realistic hallucinations took control as one by one, her entire family came for a visit. They sat down and chatted with her. Simple, innocuous conversations but so unbelievably, wonderfully real.

A continuous, softly spoken voice in her head told her it wasn’t real but she pushed it aside as she drifted in a euphoric, comforting haze, chatting with the loved ones she missed so much.

Minutes or hours later, she opened her eyes to see her mother across from her again. A small part of her mind whispered that the conversation wasn’t possible, but it felt so wonderful and natural, she went with the delusion.

No, no. She had to stop. Something was wrong. Gathering up enough comprehension to remember she was in trouble, she asked, “What should I do, Mama?”

Her mother gave a gentle, teasing smile and opened her mouth. Angela tensed, ready for whatever assistance her mother could offer. What followed was a recitation of an old family recipe for corn chowder.

Not exactly helpful information when trying to escape from a serial killer.



Jake stood at the door of Angela’s apartment and stared down at the evidence of her abduction. A bag of groceries lay spilled on the floor. Her purse, cellphone and earbud were scattered around, close to the bag. McCall should be here any minute with additional operatives. As soon as they arrived, the trace would begin.

Only a couple of minutes after hearing Angela’s abduction, Jake had been able to maneuver his way around the semi-trucks and get off on the shoulder of the road. Driving like a madman, he had broken a half dozen traffic laws in the vain hope that he could reach Angela’s apartment complex before she disappeared with her abductor. The whole time he had known it was too late but he’d prayed for all he was worth that he was wrong. Unfortunately he had been right.

Did the bastard plan to travel back to London with her? Had he already disposed of Clarissa Eaton’s body? If so, Angela’s abduction would be for nothing.

He shoved his fingers through his hair. What the hell was he going to do if something happened to her? He shouldn’t have agreed to let her carry out the op. He should have demanded she take the monster down. What if he never saw her alive again? Was he, once again, going to be responsible for getting someone he cared about killed? Hell, did he have some kind of black cloud hanging over his head?

Jake jerked himself out of the useless blame game. Having played that game hundreds of times before, he knew it accomplished nothing. He needed to focus on the positives. Angela was stronger than she gave herself credit for. She could take this bastard out if need be. And they were going to trace her whereabouts. They would find her and everything would be okay. He had to believe that.

The cellphone in his hand rang and in an instant, Jake answered, “Mallory.”

“I’m three minutes from her flat,” McCall said. “Meet me out front.”

He grabbed Angela’s belongings and turned away. Running down the hallway, he was in the lobby and on the sidewalk in less than a minute. A black SUV pulled to the curb and McCall got out. “You drive…I’ll track her.”

Sliding in behind the steering wheel, Jake took off the second the other man got into the passenger side.

“Head to the A4,” McCall said. “She’s about twenty minutes ahead of us.”

As he weaved in and out of the heavy evening traffic, Jake did his best not to think about what Angela was going through. If he allowed himself to go down that path, he wouldn’t be able to function. She was counting on him and he’d damn well not let her down.

Grim and silent, McCall sat beside him and stared at the laptop screen. Three other operatives followed in another SUV. Between the five of them, no way was this bastard going to get away.

Was she drugged and unconscious or awake and aware? Having seen her fear up close and personal, he could only imagine how terrified she must be.

Dammit, he should have seen this coming. Just because they had quit the op didn’t mean the killer had.

Without looking up from the screen, McCall said gruffly, “Stop beating yourself up. The man’s acting completely against type. No one could have predicted he would follow her to Paris. How the hell did he even know her address?”

Jake’s mind searched for the oddity and then closed his eyes briefly. “The presents.”

“What presents?”

“The day before we returned to Paris, Angela and I went shopping. She found gifts for your kids and asked for them to be shipped to her apartment in Paris. He must’ve been in the store and overheard.”

“Shit,” McCall said softly.

Bile surged up his throat. Instead of watching for the killer, he’d been concentrating on Angela, wanting to make her feel better…see her laugh again. And now he didn’t know if he’d ever see her alive again. “Dammit, I should have been watching her back.”

“Before we were married, Mara was taken right before my eyes. I was there to protect her and ended up almost getting her killed.”

The expression on the man’s face kept Jake from asking for details. Whatever had happened, it still haunted him.

“Thing is, no matter how prepared you think you are, shit happens. Angela has been trained to handle the unexpected, just like any operative.”

“Hell, McCall, how can you say that after what happened in London?”

The LCR leader shrugged. “I’ve known her for years. Know what she’s made of. She’s strong. And she’ll come through this even stronger.”

Jake didn’t respond. McCall hadn’t seen Angela after her scare. There was no way she was anything but terrified. Just because she had assured him she could do this didn’t mean it was true. He had to get to her before the maniac caused her even more damage. Determination settled in his gut…nothing would stop him from saving her.

McCall hissed a vicious curse.

“What?”

When McCall didn’t answer, Jake shot him a look. The bleak expression in his eyes chilled Jake’s blood.

“What the hell’s wrong?” Jake barked.

“The GPS went dark. We have no way to track her.”

The determination in Jake’s gut turned to dust. Angela was on her own.





Chapter Seventeen

The cessation of movement jolted Angela back to consciousness and reality. Like the first sprinkle of raindrops before a downpour, half-formed facts appeared in her mind. The Red Rose Killer. Abduction. Drugged.

She shook her head to clear it and full knowledge of the events poured down on her. How long had she been unconscious? When had the van stopped? Would he leave them here in this hellish box or let them out? She remembered that in one of her more lucid moments, she had tried to lift the top with her back. It hadn’t budged. Until he deemed it time to let them out, they were here for the duration.

“Clarissa, are you awake?”

“Yes. Thank God you are, too. We’ve been traveling forever and you’ve been mumbling about all sorts of bizarre things.”

“Sorry. Whatever he drugged me with made me hallucinate.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be able to fight him when he lets us out?”

The hope in Clarissa’s voice was painful to hear—all the more because Angela wasn’t sure of the answer. Without drugs, she could handle the maniac, no problem. But she was still disoriented. On top of that, her extremities had gone numb. The moment she was released from this compartment, she’d love to think she could spring out of here and take the killer down. Truth was, she didn’t know if her legs would hold her.

“I’m going to do my best.”

“What…” Clarissa cleared her throat and asked, “What does he do to his victims?”

Facing reality was one thing, but Angela saw no point in describing the horrific things this monster had done to his other victims. Apparently Clarissa wasn’t one to watch television news or read newspapers. What the women went through before their deaths had been all too accurately reported. What purpose would it serve for her to know that he tortured his victims in a variety of ways before he slit their throats?