Finding Sarah (21 page)

Randy strolled down the hall to
his office Monday morning, relaxed, refreshed, and feeling good about the day.
He’d hung up his jacket when Kovak walked in, the inevitable latte from the
corner cart in hand.

Kovak’s gaze moved over Randy,
lingering on his face. He sat down at his desk and mumbled something that
sounded all too close to, “I told you so.”

“You say something?” Randy asked.
He made a point of rooting through the notes and messages on his desk.

“Me?” Kovak grinned. “No. But you
look well rested. I take it you took my advice? Enjoyed your weekend?”

“I did. After I brought in the
woman who held up Sarah Tucker’s shop.”

“Way to go.”

“Partly. She was someone’s
puppet. I’m still looking for whoever’s behind this.”

“She give you anything?”

“Not much. Another Consolidated
link. We found her in Cottonwood, so they’ll bring her over this morning. I’ll
check their reports, see if she talked. Spending the weekend in lockup can
loosen tongues.”

Kovak picked up some papers from
his desk, stuffed them into his briefcase. “I’m off. Snitch has a lead on the
Oregon Trust break-in for me. Catch you later.”

Randy suppressed the urge to ask
Kovak more about the case. Instead, he punched the codes for his voice mail
into the phone, half hoping to hear Sarah’s voice. Instead, he heard the nasal
twang of the Cottonwood officer he’d worked with Friday night. They’d gotten
the phone number Harriett had called. Randy thumbed through his notes, found
the number Tony Mazzaro had given him. Not surprised when they were identical,
he called Victoria at the phone company.

“Hi, Victoria. How’s my favorite
lady?”

“Good as gold, Doll Boy. Anything
going on, or is this a love call?”

Randy smiled in spite of himself.
“I need a favor.” Victoria was seventy-two years old and refused to retire.
When so many of her contemporaries had shied away from learning the new
computerized systems, Victoria had no such qualms. There was nothing she couldn’t
ferret out of the phone company’s database, and Randy knew she had a lot more
tricks up her sleeve.

“Ask away.”

Randy gave her the number. “Can
you tell me who this belongs to?”

“You got a court order?”

“Not yet. Any chance you can poke
around and if things pan out, I’ll get one?”

“Randy, my dear. You wound me.
Are you losing faith? Or have you found someone else? You haven’t been by to
visit in ages.”

Randy grinned this time. “Victoria,
you know there will never be anyone but you. And you’re right. I don’t get to
Woodford nearly enough. Next time I’m in town, I’ll stop by. That’s a promise.”

“That’s more like it. You want to
hold? This should be quick.”

He could hear Victoria sucking on
one of the lemon drop candies that were a fixture in the jar on her desk. He
made a mental note to get her some more.

Less than three minutes later,
Victoria confirmed it was a Consolidated phone number.

“You’re sure? Consolidated denied
it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.
It’s Consolidated. You need more, I’m going to have to get paper, you know.”

“I’ll be in touch.” He hesitated barely
a moment. “But if you happen to have some time and want to pull the Local Usage
Details on that number for me … let’s say, six months?”

She cackled. “Someday, somebody’s
going to take exception to the fact that you seem to get your LUDs almost
before the ink’s dry on the paperwork.”

* * * * *

Sarah floated to a state of half
wakefulness. She felt the softness of her pillow, smelled the freshly laundered
sheets. Sunlight filtered through her closed lids. She turned away from the
source of the light, trying to put her nightmare behind her. It had certainly
seemed real enough. Her head felt two sizes too big, she needed to pee, and an
underlying nausea added to her discomfort. She yawned and cracked her eyelids
open.

As soon as she did, any remnants
of sleep were eradicated by the surge of adrenaline. This was not her bedroom.
This was not any bedroom she’d ever been in. She was lying in a king-sized oak
bed, still wearing the jersey she’d borrowed from Randy. Her memory returned
and she choked back a scream for help. Chris. He’d stolen her away last night.
He’d drugged her—that’s why she was so groggy. She heard herself
hyperventilating and struggled to slow her breathing.

Her panic intensified the urgent
need for a bathroom. Sarah crept out of bed, fighting the dizziness and tiptoed
across the wood floor, trying the closed door at her right. Locked. She
discovered an open doorway in the opposite corner, hidden behind a lattice
screen. Thankful that the room revealed the necessary fixtures, she sighed as
she relieved herself. She tried to be quiet, but there was no way to pee
silently.

She fought to breathe normally
and studied the bathroom, searching for a way out. A tiny ventilation window
near the ceiling was useless. Laid out neatly on the counter were a toothbrush
still in its wrapper, a tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap, a washcloth, and a
pile of fluffy yellow towels. She peeked behind a yellow-flowered shower curtain
into a tub-shower combination with bottles of expensive shampoo, conditioner,
and bubble bath. Definitely nothing that would help her escape.

Her mouth tasted like old socks.
With shaking fingers, she unwrapped the toothbrush and ran enough water to dampen
it, taking a moment to run it across her teeth. She moistened a washcloth and
rubbed it across her face and the back of her neck. She leaned against the
sink, trembling from the exertion.

Mounting anger gave some of her
strength back. How could she have been so stupid? So naïve? But Chris had been
so passive in high school, so polite and proper. Hell, it had been almost two
years before he’d French kissed her, and even then, she’d had to convince him
he wasn’t out of line.

Using the walls for support, she
tiptoed back to the bedroom and continued her exploration. Security bars
covered the lone window in the room, a combination padlock secured the bars.
This was a prison cell. Blood rushed through her ears, the dizziness returned.
She sat on the bed and tried to stop shaking.

Calm down. Think.

A photo album lay on a night
table shelf at the side of the bed. She picked it up and ran her quivering fingers
over its textured surface. She flipped through it, fighting off a feeling of
horror. It was full of pictures. Of her. Photos taken when she and Chris were
in high school. Some more recent ones. Her at the bus stop, walking downtown,
outside her shop.

The click of a lock being
released sent her heart skyrocketing. She hurried to replace the book, pulled
the covers over herself and tried to feign sleep, striving to keep her
breathing slow and even. Randy would find her and everything would be fine. She
had to stay calm and give Randy time. Time. Let Chris think she was still
asleep.

“I know you’re awake, my Sleeping
Beauty,” Chris said. “I heard you moving around in here. Sorry about the locked
door, but I’m not sure you can be trusted yet.”

The touch of a hand to her hair
made her recoil. She gave up pretending and opened her eyes.

Chris wore black denims and a
plaid shirt over a deep blue turtleneck. The beaming smile on his face made her
seethe. She wanted to strike out at him, to scratch his eyes out. To kick him
where it would do the most good. She inched up to a sitting position, leaning
against the headboard as the room spun. Kicking him would have to wait.

“That’s better, my love.” Chris
settled himself on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been asleep quite some time.”

“How long? What time is it? What
day is it, for that matter? Where are we?”

“My, aren’t you full of
questions? It doesn’t matter where we are, as long as we’re together. But,
since you ask, it’s Monday, around noon. I love you. I used the ether because
you didn’t understand you love me, too. Now, everything will be perfect.” His
fawning expression disgusted her, and the lifelessness in his eyes made her
flesh crawl.

“You love me? You kidnap me, drug
me, hurt my friends? That’s not love, Chris. That’s nuts.” She had to stop and
catch her breath, to wait for the room to stop spinning like a tilt-a-whirl.

“We’re not talking about that
now. That’s behind us. Now, we can be happy.” He stroked her cheek and she
jerked her head away, sending another wave of dizziness through her.

She gasped. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m sure you’re feeling the
aftereffects of the ether. I’m sorry I gave you so much, but I needed to take
care of everything and get some sleep myself. I’ll run you a nice bubble bath
so you can wash away all the remnants of your past.” He stood and crossed
behind the screen.

Her mind raced. Could Chris
possibly believe he could kidnap her and she’d agree to be part of his life? He
had to be crazy. Once she heard the water running in the tub, she slid out of
bed and half-crawled to the bedroom door. Before she reached the knob, strong
fingers gripped her shoulders.

“I don’t think you should be
going anywhere,” Chris said. “It’s time for your bath.”

He placed his hand on her elbow
to lead her to the bathroom and she twisted away. “I said, don’t touch me,” she
repeated before her vision darkened into nothingness.

* * * * *

Security cleared Randy through
the gate at Consolidated and directed him to a visitor parking area. The
six-story brick building sat on a landscaped rise, surrounded by Garry oaks and
Douglas firs.

Randy jumped from his F-150 and
wound his way up the tree-lined path, past the granite “Consolidated
Enterprises” sign to the main entrance. The immense wooden doors opened into a
spacious marble-floored lobby that extended up two stories. Randy approached
the curved wooden reception desk at the back of the lobby. A middle-aged woman
looked up at him and smiled.

“May I help you?”

Randy displayed his badge. “I’d
like to speak to someone in your Telecommunications Department regarding your
phone system.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I need to track down a
phone. I thought it would be easiest to do it in person.”

She consulted her computer. “I’ll
get someone for you.”

While the woman made her call,
Randy wandered over to an enormous fireplace and stared into the fire’s dancing
colors, calmed by its hypnotic spell. He heard his name being spoken and turned
to greet a dark-haired man wearing faded jeans and an Oregon State sweatshirt.

“Detective Detweiler? I’m Gary Henderson,
IT Services. How can I help you?”

“I’ve got what’s supposed to be a
Consolidated phone number, but your receptionist says it’s not one of yours. It’s
come up on the periphery of a couple of cases and we’d like to be able to rule
it out.”

“Follow me.” Gary turned and
walked down a long carpeted hallway. He pushed open the door to a large office,
although there was hardly any working room left beyond the computers, files,
and bookshelves crammed with technical manuals. He shifted a pile of folders
off a chair and motioned Randy to sit. Gary sat at a computer terminal and
clicked the mouse a few times. “What was the number?”

Randy handed him the slip of
paper with the number.

“Okee dokie. Let’s see what we’ve
got.” As Gary clicked his way through several screens. Randy noticed an
employee directory on top of a stack of folders on the floor. He leaned over
and picked it up.

“Mind if I take this directory?”
he asked.

“I don’t have a problem with it.
They go out of date faster than we print ’em.”

“Here we are,” Gary said. “I
think I’ve found the problem. That number belonged to someone who’s no longer
with the company, and it’s not been reassigned.”

“Do you leave the lines active
when someone leaves?” Randy asked.

“No, we shut ’em down.”

“Would you mind checking?”

Gary clicked some more. Randy
thumbed through the directory, disappointed that it gave only work information.
Still, better than nothing. Scanning for his aliases was interrupted when Gary
spoke.

“You’re right. That line was
never deactivated. Didn’t show up because nobody’s using it to make calls. Our
reports track outgoing calls, not incoming.”

“Would you show me where this
phone line is?” Randy asked. He tucked the directory into his briefcase.

“Don’t see why not. It’s a
boardroom on the fifth floor.”

The elevator ride was swift and
silent, and Gary led Randy to a door halfway down the hall, where he swiped a
card through a sensor, and pushed the door open.

“Do all the offices have
electronic locks?” Randy asked.

“Anything above the fourth floor.
The suits work up here. The ones with the letters for titles.” He grinned and
held the door open.