CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sean is in a mood as we drive to Lisa’s apartment. He glares at the road, and his hands sit stoically at the ten and two position on the wheel. He doesn’t speak to me, and when I try to initiate conversation, he only gives one-word answers. I can see he’s more upset than I thought he was.

“Sean, please don’t be angry with me,” I finally say. “I did what I thought was best.”

“A child who sticks a knife into a socket does what he thinks is best too,” Sean replies. “He’s just a bloody idiot.”

“I am not a child.”

“Well, you are a bloody idiot.” He sighs. “Mary, look.” He rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way, but I care about you, all right? You matter to me. I don’t want to show up and find you dead one of these days. And you know that’s what almost happened, right? Twice now. First you get into it with a woman who’s much bigger and stronger than you, and if not for me and the fashion agent, Hugo whatever his name was, you’d be dead. Now I find you nearly drowned. What would have happened if I’d shown up one minute later?”

“I find it’s best not to dwell on what might have happened.”

“Oh, don’t give me that load of crap. Your entire life is about what might have happened. You have a drive to protect and find justice for everyone but yourself.”

“Have you finished?” I say tersely.

He gives me a sideways look, then says, “Sure. No point in arguing with a stone wall.”

I know I’m being unfair. I know it was hard for him to see me hurt. Even if the fleeting romantic thoughts I have for him earlier are foolishness borne of adrenaline, he is a friend, and he’s said he cares for me.

I sigh. “I’m sorry, Sean. Truly, I am. If I could allow myself to step back, I would, but I can’t. It’s a compulsion in me.”

“It’s a mental illness is what it is.”

"Maybe so," I allow, "but I can't stop it any more than you can help the fact that you're here. You've put your life on hold to help me find my sister. I'm so grateful for it, and I am so lucky to have found you, but you're not doing this for me. If you were, you would have pulled away a long time ago."

“I am absolutely doing this for you,” he says.

I look at him, and he chuckles bitterly. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re paying me well, that’s all.”

His words pierce far more deeply than I care to admit to myself. I look away and stare ahead at the road, waiting for the pain to subside before it causes me to say something I’ll regret.

It’s just as well. I can’t afford foolishness.

“I am paying you very well,” I agree. “So let’s have no more argument about how much I can and can’t afford to involve myself in the case.”

We fall silent after that and remain that way until we reach the modest apartment building that Lisa Reinhardt calls home. The building is situated near Monterey’s downtown, and the traffic is quite crowded.

Sean parks across the street, and we enter the building. “The problem with you being here,” he tells me, “is that she’ll recognize you. So I can’t use my cover of being a journalist.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because I only thought of it just now.”

“Then that wasn’t the only problem.”

“Not the only one. I just keep hoping you’ll listen to reason one day.”

He leads me to the third floor of the nine-story mid-rise. “Hers is the second on the left.”

“How did you get her home address?”

He laughs. “Any ten-year-old with internet access can find a person’s home address.”

“Well, that’s disturbing.”

“All the things that have happened to you, and public records are what you find disturbing.”

The conversation stops because we are in front of her door now. Sean lifts his hand to knock, but I notice something and lift my hand. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“The door. It’s open.”

“What?”

I push gently. The door moves easily. It was nearly closed, but not shut enough for the knob to latch.

Sean frowns and draws his handgun. “Stay outside.”

“No.”

“Mary, for the love of—”

“If there was someone here, then they’ve probably already left, or the door wouldn’t be open. And if they’re still here, the safest place for me is next to you—the man with the gun.”

He glares at me for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “Bloody… All right. Fine, come with me.”

He leads me into the apartment. There is no foyer, merely a short hallway that leads to an arched entryway. We step through that entryway, and I gasp.

The apartment is ransacked. The couch is overturned, and the coffee table and tv smashed. Vases and books and various other items lay strewn about.

Sean curses and moves through the apartment. He moves with the lithe grace of a jaguar, pushing open doorways and training his weapon everywhere an assailant might show. It’s impressive watching him work, I must admit.

What is also impressive, though in a much different way, is the destruction I see evidenced in each room. The bedroom is torn up like the living room, and the bathroom mirror is shattered. The kitchen cabinets are opened, and a chef’s knife sits in the middle of the floor. The microwave has been pulled from the wall and hangs by its power cable.

“There was a fight in here,” I say.

“Gee, what makes you say that?” he replies sardonically. Then he frowns and says, “This doesn’t look right, though.”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “It’s so much damage. How could no one have heard this?”

“It’s the middle of the workday,” I reply. “Perhaps no one was here. The attackers would have staked this place out and known when it was safe to make their move.”

“Maybe,” he agrees. “Yes, you’re probably right.” He sighs. “Well, let’s call the police then.”

“Wait! We should search the place first, shouldn’t we? Perhaps the killer left a clue behind.”

“That sounds like a good reason to call the police.”

“Can we just look first, please?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course. Your wish is my command.”

We move more slowly through the house. I note right away that, like Victor's scene, there is no blood.

“They were kidnapped,” I say.

“More than likely,” Sean agrees. “You’re sure your boss is well off?”

“I thought so. I assumed he would have to be if he could afford to live in that house. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m trying to think of who might have had a motive to grab both of them. We know Lisa was in trouble financially. Maybe she’s crossed the line with a loan shark, and he’s sent goons after her. Might have sent them for Victor first. Or he might have just taken Victor for information on Lisa.”

“Perhaps Marcus is involved,” I say. “He could have lied to you to direct your attention toward Lisa.”

“And then once I was looking her way, he kidnaps her? No, if he wanted to kidnap her, he should have made me look the other way.”

I purse my lips. We’re in the bedroom now. I open the desk, one of the only furniture items not damaged, but there is nothing inside. “It seems they took paperwork with them too.”

“Hmm. Odd.”

“The whole thing is odd,” I say. “I thought for sure Evelyn was involved, but now she’s another victim. The only suspect remaining is Marcus Fairfax, but… well, frankly, I wouldn’t think him capable of this. Perhaps he could kidnap Lisa, but I feel that Victor would be more than a match for him.”

“Marcus certainly doesn’t exude danger,” Sean replies, “but plenty of killers don’t.”

I straighten and sigh. “All right. Well, I don’t think we’ll learn anything else. Go ahead and call the police.”

"Let's get out of the building first. They'll know we were here, or we wouldn't know she was missing, but it'll look a lot less suspicious if we're not in the apartment."

I follow him outside, and my phone buzzes as soon as we step through the door. It’s Evelyn.

“Hello? Is everything all right?”

Evelyn sounds harried when she speaks. I can hear screaming in the background and guess the reason. “Umm… there’s a social worker here to take Celeste.”

I blink. “Take Celeste? Take her where?”

“To her grandparents in Idaho.”

I stiffen. “What?”

“She says that since we’re not relatives, we can’t care for her. She has to go to the next of kin, and that’s her grandparents.”

“Her grandparents who she hasn’t spoken to in years? The ones who hate her father?”

“They agreed to take her, I guess.”

I hear more screaming and crashing over the phone. “I take it Celeste is not enthused by the idea.”

"She's tearing apart the house, trying not to go."

“Okay. I’m on my way. Don’t let her leave before I get there.”

I hang up and turn to Sean. “I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. I need to take the car.”

Sean hands me the keys without fuss. He might not be happy with me right now, but he knows when to argue and when to let me win. “Go. I’ll take a cab to my hotel.”

I rush to the car and speed off toward Victor’s house, heart pounding.