Chapter 27

Twenty-Seven

"WALK INTO THE LIVING ROOM, Lindsey."

Dr. Oliver's directive registered at a peripheral level as she gaped at Heidi, but it wasn't until he tugged on the rope and tightened her noose that she managed to get her feet moving.

This was becoming more bizarre by the moment.

What was the connection between these two?

Why would Heidi want to kill her husband?

How had she convinced Dr. Oliver to help her?

No answers came to her as she stumbled toward the living room.

But at least Dr. Oliver had nixed Heidi's suggestion that they finish her off here.

"Stop."

She paused at his command.

"Anthony, honey, are you all right?"

Honey?

Another jolt ricocheted through her.

Heidi and Dr. Oliver had a romantic relationship?

"I could be better. The police are going to be looking for my car."

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry about that. There are dozens of fender benders in the city every day, and the cops down there have bigger fish to fry than trying to track down a hit-and-run with no injuries."

"What if someone saw what happened?"

"It was dark, and half the streetlights were out. No one could see much from a window, and it's too cold tonight for anyone to be wandering around outside."

"A body shop will know the car was in an accident." Dr. Oliver sounded seriously rattled.

"Relax, Anthony. You can lease a car for a couple of months and let yours sit. At that point, tonight will be ancient history. Tell them someone sideswiped you while the car was parked on the street."

Heidi's tone was soothing. Placating. Caring.

The voice of a woman in love.

A far different version of Heidi than the woman who demanded that staff park behind her garage to keep riffraff out of view.

Lindsey gritted her teeth.

How she rued the day she'd taken a job at the Robertson house after the client Dr. Oliver had referred to her had in turn put her in touch with Heidi.

"I don't know."

"Anthony, trust me, it will be fine. But I'll take the wheel on this trip. You shouldn't be driving with such a high fever."

"I don't like all the calls that detective made to her phone. He'll be looking for her."

Lindsey's ears perked up, and a surge of hope shot through her.

They had to be referring to Jack.

Multiple calls meant he was worried and perhaps already in search mode.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much chance he'd think of Dr. Oliver.

"He has no idea where she is. You said she told you no one knew she was planning to stop here."

"You know ... we probably shouldn't talk about all this in her presence."

Heidi gave a mirthless laugh. "Why not? It isn't like she's going to have the opportunity to tell anyone what she hears. You ready to go?"

"I don't know." Agitation and uncertainty wove through his words. "None of this feels right."

Was Dr. Oliver having second thoughts about their plans?

If so, that could work to her advantage.

"That's because you're sick. We're going to get you looked at as soon as we finish this unpleasant business, even if I have to drive all night to take you to an ER where no one will recognize you. Let's get her out to the car."

A resigned sigh filled the silence, followed by a ripping sound. "I guess we don't have any choice at this stage. Use this first."

After a few seconds, Heidi appeared in front of her, a length of duct tape in her hand.

Before Lindsey realized her intent, Heidi slapped it against her mouth and pressed the ends against her cheeks.

No amount of twisting and turning deterred her from the task, and the increasing pressure of the noose put a damper on too much struggle.

"Let's go." Heidi picked up a hat from the couch and tucked her hair into it. Then she slipped her arms into a coat and wrapped a muffler around her neck.

"Hold this while I put my jacket on." Another tug on the rope as Dr. Oliver spoke.

Heidi disappeared behind her, their handoff producing only a tiny window of relief for her lungs.

They were getting ready to take her somewhere to dispose of her.

Somewhere that would have no link to them.

Her time was running out.

But what was she supposed to do with a noose around her neck, her hands trussed, and a gag muffling her voice?

A sudden tsunami of fear stole her breath just as effectively as the rope.

Summoning up every ounce of her self-discipline, she fought it back.

There might yet be an opportunity to break free. Dr. Oliver was sick, and he didn't seem enthusiastic about the task ahead. Heidi didn't have the advantage of muscle power honed from years of running and rowing.

Lindsey balled her fingers.

She'd find a way to make another attempt.

They were not going to defeat her. At least not without a fight.

"I'm ready." Dr. Oliver spoke again.

"Wait. Let me get the hat."

A few seconds later, a knit cap was pulled onto her head from behind. Latex-enclosed fingers appeared in her field of vision as Heidi pushed her hair inside.

"There could be a few strands lying around here." Dr. Oliver sounded increasingly nervous.

"We'll vacuum when we get back. Okay. We're all set."

"Walk toward the kitchen, Lindsey." Dr. Oliver prodded her.

She did as he directed, legs stiff.

Heidi moved ahead, opening the door to the garage and preceding them into the spacious triple-bay attached structure that housed two dark sedans.

"Follow Heidi to her car." He jiggled the rope, as if urging a horse to pick up its pace.

Lindsey's step faltered as Heidi stopped by the car and shook out a very large garbage bag.

Were they going to kill her here after all? Put her body in a bag and dump her somewhere?

"Keep moving." Dr. Oliver prodded her again from behind.

She didn't budge.

He pulled the rope taut, cutting off her air supply, and she let out a strangled gasp.

"I said move."

She stumbled forward.

At the back of the car, Heidi raised the bag. Slid it down over her body as the tether around her neck went slack.

Blackness engulfed her.

A few seconds later, cording was lashed around her ankles.

Lindsey choked back a sob.

Her odds of survival were plummeting.

Without her hands or feet or voice, she was helpless to launch a counterattack.

"Sit in the trunk, Lindsey."

No.

She wasn't going to go willingly to her death.

"This is ridiculous." Heidi spat the comment out.

An instant later, a hard shove sent her tumbling backward. She fell into the trunk, her head connecting with hard metal as she toppled in.

Bright pinpricks of light cascaded across her dark field of vision as her legs were lifted, the bag was pulled down over her feet, and a cinching sound echoed in the trunk as the drawstring was secured.

"Don't worry. The bag has plenty of air for the short time you'll be in it." This from Dr. Oliver.

He was reassuring her she wouldn't suffocate? The same man who'd put a noose around her neck?

It was ludicrous.

If the situation wasn't so dire, she'd laugh at the absurdity.

But laughter was the last thing on her mind.

The trunk lid slammed shut, sending a vibration through the car.

Moments after that, car doors opened. Closed. The engine was turned on. The car began to roll toward an unknown destination.

Based on Dr. Oliver's comment, it wasn't far.

And wherever it was, that's where she'd meet her end.

Unless she could outsmart them ... or overpower them ... or Jack figured out where she was and sicced law enforcement on them.

None of which seemed likely in light of the formidable odds stacked against her.

Pressure built in her throat as a wave of despair crashed over her.

How could it end like this, after everything she'd been through? Everything she'd survived? Especially now that she'd met a man who could very well be The One?

You're giving up, Lindsey. That's not like you. You're a fighter. This isn't over till it's over. Think! Come up with a plan of attack. Maybe they'll win in the end, but don 't let them steal your spirit along with your life.

As that silent pep talk echoed in her mind, anger began to build inside her.

No matter the odds, she wouldn't go down without a fight. At the very least, she'd make their job more difficult. Inflict injury of her own on them if she could.

Her brain began to click into gear, the left side taking over.

First, to do anything, she needed her hands. Freeing them had to be her top priority. If she could loosen the cording around her wrists, have her hands available, she'd be in a much stronger position to resist. Even if they intended to throw her into a lake or river while she was in this bag, having the use of her hands would give her the ability to perhaps open the bag and swim out.

Second, if their plan was to get her out of the bag at their final destination before finishing her off, they'd either have to carry her or free her ankles so she could walk. In his current physical condition, Dr. Oliver didn't appear to be up to toting anything over fifty pounds for any distance. Freed ankles would also work to her advantage.

Third, she should leverage the element of surprise. Let them think her hands were still secured when they hauled her out of the trunk. Catch them off guard once she was ready to launch her strike.

So as the car wove toward its destination, Lindsey got to work.

And if she succeeded, the two people who'd already killed an innocent man in a surprise attack would get a surprise of their own when their latest intended victim threw a few roadblocks on their path to murder.

THAT WAS FAST.

As Emma's name flashed on the screen of his cell, Jack greeted her. "I didn't expect to hear back from you in less than fifteen minutes."

"I bumped you to the top of the queue, as promised."

"I owe you."

"Bring me a few more of those chocolate mint squares and I'll call it even."

"You got it. Were you able to decipher the plate?"

"Yep." She rattled it off. "I also ran it for you, since I assumed that would be your next step. It belongs to an Anthony Oliver."

As Jack tried to digest that startling piece of news, his car began to drift, forcing him to do a fast course correction.

Anthony Oliver?

Lindsey's therapist?

That was crazy.

And yet it made perfect sense in a warped way. Who would better know someone's vulnerabilities—and how to exploit them—than the psychologist of the patient being targeted?

But that also meant he was either Robertson's killer or the accomplice.

This was getting weirder by the minute.

Why would he get involved in such a sordid mess?

And who was the woman who'd been in the car with him earlier tonight?

"Detective Tucker?"

He refocused on the conversation. "Yes, I'm here. You just solved one of my cases. Expect a whole plate of mint squares. Do you have an address for the vehicle?"

"Yes." She recited it.

"Thanks. I'll be in touch."

Without waiting for her to respond, he punched the end button, called Sarge, and gave him a fast rundown. "I know we have to get a court order to search his house and office, but I'm going in under exigent circumstances while we wait for that to come through. Can you get officers there fast? Quietly, in case Oliver's home."

"I'm on it. How far away are you?"

"ETA ten minutes." That was another lucky break. The man lived in Clayton, minutes from headquarters.

It appeared the tide of this case was turning at last.

Now all they had to do was find Lindsey before it was too late.

"They'll be waiting for you. Go get him, Tucker."

"That's my plan."

He ended the call and sped down I-64, exiting two minutes later and barreling toward the posh neighborhood Oliver called home.

As Sarge had predicted, two patrol cars were already parked a few doors down from Oliver's dark house when he arrived.

The officers met him as he approached.

"We have a potential abduction situation, so let's proceed with caution." Jack inspected the residence. "I'll ring the bell while you two do a walk-around. If he isn't home, we may have to go in uninvited."

The two officers split up and circled the house from opposite sides while he approached the front door and pressed the bell.

Two rings later, there was still no response.

He followed the officers around to the back, where they were examining the patio door.

"Find anything?"

"Nothing that raises any alarms." One of them straightened up. "We're trying to determine the easiest way to get in. I flashed a light in the back window, and it doesn't appear his security system is armed."

"Any cars in there?" Jack motioned to the rear-entry garage, which boasted a narrow horizontal panel of windows near the top of each door.

"One. It matched the license plate dispatch gave us. And it appears there's damage on the side of the vehicle."

"The door next to the garage will be quicker to breach than this one." The other officer stood too. "One kick ought to do it."

"Let's give it a try."

He strode over, the two officers falling in behind him.

Rather than wait for one of them to do the job, he twisted sideways and smashed his heel below the lock. The door splintered. A follow-up kick sent it flying.

They were in.

"One of you stay out here. The other, come with me." He pulled out the booties and gloves he'd grabbed from his glove compartment and handed a set to the officer. "I don't think anyone's here, but be prepared for trouble just in case."

"Got it." The officer donned the equipment and pulled out his pistol.

Jack did the same and pushed through the door. Flipped on a light.

It was a laundry room that provided access to both the kitchen and garage.

"Let's check the house first."

After calling out Oliver's name in case the man happened to be home, Jack took the lead, turning on lights as they moved from room to room.

Nothing in the kitchen raised red flags.

The living room appeared to be undisturbed.

Everything in the foyer was pristine.

Jack started down the hall.

Stopped.

A closet door at the end was open.

He put his feet in gear again, halting a yard back.

Major red alert.

In one fast scan, he took in the pile of sheets on the floor inside and the missing half shelf. Moving closer, he flicked on the flashlight he'd brought from his car, homing in on a brownish crimson spot on one of the sheets.

It was blood.

Lindsey's.

He knew that as surely as he knew there would be a lot more of it unless he found her fast.

Heart pounding, he fumbled for his cell and got Sarge on the line again.

His boss listened to his download before speaking. "We need his phone records. Also a location on his cell, assuming he hasn't turned it off. I'll coordinate that. Does he have a second car?"

"Unknown. But the damaged BMW is in the garage."

"We'll check on a second vehicle and get a BOLO alert issued if he owns another one. I'll also have the CSU send a van over there."

"We need to find out if there's any family we can talk to. Office staff too. I can dig into that after I finish the walk-through here. I'll also have the officers who are here knock on the neighbors' doors."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll get our people on the intel piece."

The line went dead, and Jack put his phone away.

While he'd do a full circuit of the house and garage, his gut told him he'd already discovered the main clues visible to the naked eye. The CSU folks would doubtless unearth additional evidence during their thorough examination of the scene, however. It was also possible the door-to-door canvas would yield another helpful hint or two, though in neighborhoods where houses were often shrouded behind landscaping designed to offer optimal privacy, witnesses were generally difficult to find. Family, friends, and staff interviews could fill in blanks too.

But all of that would take time.

Time Lindsey didn't have.

She'd already been missing for hours, and people with bad intentions didn't stretch out their risks any longer than necessary. Especially smart ones.

And Oliver was smart.

Smart enough to perhaps stay one step ahead of the law, as he had throughout this whole ordeal.

But he'd made mistakes tonight, like the one last week with the blood on Lindsey's car. Either he was getting rattled, or circumstances had pushed him into a course of action he hadn't had an opportunity to plan to the n th degree, as he'd done for the lake and park setups.

If they were lucky, Oliver would keep making mistakes. Continue leaving them a trail to follow.

If he didn't?

Jack tamped down an uncharacteristic wave of panic as the answer to that question came through loud and clear. Letting fear undermine his professional composure and usual meticulous thinking would be a mistake. He had to stay at the top of his game.

Lindsey's life depended on it.

And as he continued his walk-through of Oliver's house, he prayed for one more break that would lead him to the woman who was fast claiming his heart—in time to save her life ... and their future.