Chapter Twelve
I stood in my darkened apartment, my thoughts racing and my body restless. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep after that. No way. I paced the length of my living room with my hands shaking and my thoughts whirling. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to react? I needed someone to talk to, or this overwhelming urge to break something would win. Down the hall, I paused in front of Gracie’s door.
I could knock. I could slip between her sheets and cry. I could spill my heart, and she’d comfort me. Well, after she freaked out, I’m sure. But instead of lifting my knuckles to her door, I turned, walked into my bedroom, and pulled my cell from the nightstand.
I dialed James’s number and waited for him to pick up, desperate to hear his voice. He was the only person in the world that would understand, and the only person that could soothe the ragged discord thrumming inside me. The line went to voicemail, and my heart sank.
I couldn’t wait until morning to see him; I knew that as well as I knew my own name. Without taking much time to think my decision through, I left the apartment, still wearing my oversize cardigan and unlaced boots.
In the car, I tried James again. “Pick up,” I said into the receiver, but it was no use. I pressed end without leaving a message and hoped James would answer the door when I got to his house.
With dawn only hours away, the roads were nearly empty, and I could have counted the number of cars I passed during the fifteen-minute drive on one hand. When I exited the freeway, a pair of headlights flickered in my rearview mirror. A van was behind me and approaching at a speed I knew was too fast. The headlights flashed again as I merged into the lane next to me. I hoped to pull out of its way when a car horn blared. Looking to my right, I saw a black sedan in my blind spot.
“Shit,” I said under my breath as I corrected my wheel and jumped back into my lane.
The van flashed his lights again. I sped up, ready to pass the sedan, when it cut sharply in front of me. Slamming on my brakes, I came to a sharp stop inches from hitting the car’s bumper, and when I looked in my rearview mirror, I saw the van’s headlights careening toward me. There wasn’t time to move, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I turned the wheel and stepped on the gas when the van collided with my back end.
My head slung back and hit the seat as my car bolted forward. I hit the rear end of the stationary sedan, and the impact caused my car to rocket around and skid sideways before stopping with a jerk. My ears rang in the sudden silence, and my body quivered with adrenaline.
I took a deep breath and uncurled my fingers from the wheel. The airbag in front of me was deflated, though I don’t remember it popping out. I pushed the gearshift into park and fiddled with my seatbelt, trying several times to get it undone without success. My hands were shaking and impossible to command.
“Ma’am?” My car door opened with a jerk, and I turned to the hulking man that crouched in the open space. I stared at his nose, and for a moment all I could do was question why it was so large. “Ya hurt?” His voice held a thick East Texas drawl.
“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so,” I said as I mentally assessed my body.
“Your name Abigail Swift?”
Confusion was replaced by alarm. “What? How did you?” I couldn’t focus. My thoughts jumped from one question to the next. “Did Mack send you?”
The man didn’t respond as he reached across my lap and unclasped my seatbelt. Grasping me just under my armpit, he pulled me from the car and pushed me to the ground in one fluid motion. A grunt was forced from my lungs when my chest hit the pavement and blinding terror exploded inside me. I pushed up, ready to run, but before I could get to my feet, the man dug his knee into my back and flattened me against the ground.
The urge to flee was overwhelming, but the weight he pressed against me made it impossible. I screamed when he grabbed my hands and bound my wrists with a zip-tie behind me.
“Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” I asked, desperate for answers as my chances for escape diminished under his hold.
A familiar ripping sound sliced through the night. “No, please.” I squirmed under his weight and turned my head away from his chasing hands. “I promise I won’t scream. Tell me what’s happening.”
Silver duct tape was slapped over my mouth and wrapped behind my neck. I screamed into my closed lips, but the sound was muted. My breathing, harsh through my nostrils, had more volume. I was in trouble, and this had everything to do with my drift.
The man lifted my arms behind me in a way that my shoulders twisted to the point of separation. I scrambled to my feet to relieve the white-hot pressure and stumbled when he shoved me forward toward the van. The doors were open, and if I wanted to live, I couldn’t get in that van.
I took off in a sprint as soon as I had my footing. My feet pounded against the concrete, and I hoped to find a passing vehicle before I was caught. In the distance, a pair of headlights turned toward me, and my heart leapt. I ran into the road, directly in the path of the car, and screamed my futile screams.
The man was on me in an instant, but if I could fight long enough, there was a chance I’d be seen. I struggled against him and flailed my body in ways that made holding me impossible. I threw my head back, and after a satisfying crunch, the man groaned and let me go.
I spurred my legs forward and hope billowed in my chest until I saw the car turn onto a cross street. It disappeared, and the night never seemed blacker. The hope I’d held deflated, leaving me panicked and empty. Out here, I was alone. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. No one knew to expect me, to check on me, to miss me. Heavy arms wrapped around my middle and choked out a muffled scream.
“Stop fightin’.” The man’s words were loud in my ear, and with a grunt, he threw me into the van.
My shoulder caught my fall, and I flinched when the back doors slammed with a hollow bang. Fear curled up from my feet and writhed inside my chest. It was a living, breathing thing, rolling and stretching under my skin. A dragon—a beast of helpless panic.
The van rumbled to a start, and I scooted to the furthest corner from the door. A partition divided the back end and the driver’s cabin, leaving me isolated and alone. Bits of light flicked through the painted windows, but I was unable to gauge where we were heading.
Minutes passed, and there was no sign of slowing down. If I was going to survive, I needed to calm down. I needed to think. What had Mack told me? I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to remember everything he’d ever said about my drift, the diamond, and the man who’d thought nothing of killing me for its whereabouts.
Nino Roselli.
A thousand questions beat inside my skull. How long had he known about me? How many others had I put in danger? How did he know where I was or where I was going? Was I being followed? Had he been waiting for a night like tonight? A night I’d be alone and could disappear before anyone thought to look?
I twisted my wrists with every unanswered question, hoping to wiggle free, but the unforgiving plastic binding cut into my skin, and a warm slick of blood trailed toward my fingers. The van made a sharp left turn, and the tires hit something large. The bump lifted me an inch off the floor, and when I dropped down, I was thrown to the side, sliding toward the front of the van as we began a steep downhill descent.
The van slowed, swaying heavily from right to left before coming to a gentle stop. The driver’s side door opened, and I cringed when I heard his footsteps. He was coming for me.
I squeezed my eyes closed and sucked in a breath. I held it until my lungs screamed for release and only exhaled when I heard the pull of the handle. Now was not the time for weakness. Now was the time for courage.
The back doors opened. “Come on out, now.” The man gestured with his hand and widened the door with the other. If it were possible, his nose was larger than it had been before. Blood stuck to his upper lip and congealed in the hair at his chin. If I hadn’t been so afraid, I would’ve smiled.
“I don’t wanna come in there and getcha, but don’t think I won’t.”
I had only two options. I could stay in the van and wait to be forcibly removed, or I could exit of my own accord and save strength for when I had a reasonable chance to escape. I went with the latter, and kept my eyes glued to the man as I inched toward the door.
When I was within arm’s reach, his hands gripped my feet and yanked me forward. As soon as my lower body was out of the van, he grabbed my shoulders and hauled me out with a shove. I fell to my knees and yelped when I hit the concrete.
I wasted no time assessing my surroundings. We had veered off the main road and down an embankment. The freeway soared overhead, and all around us were concrete pilings, built to hold the structure up. No road led to where we were, and the overpass above obscured us from sight. No one would hear me scream. No one would see me die.
“You gonna run?” His voice held a nasal quality that hadn’t been there before, and I felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing I’d contributed to that.
I shook my head, and he knelt in front of me.
“You gonna scream?”
“Mm-mm,” I said and shook my head again for emphasis.
The man pulled a small pocketknife from his pants and flipped open the tiny blade. “Stay real still,” he said as he brought the knife to my face. “I don’t wanna cut cha.”
I felt the tip of the blade next to my chin, and I closed my eyes. He needled it under the tape and cut through the width. Grabbing the severed end, he ripped the tape sideways and freed my mouth.
“Ah,” I said with a cry. It stung, and when I licked my lips, I tasted blood.
“Now git up and walk,” he said in a clipped voice. When I didn’t move he pulled me up by the arm.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “Where’re you taking me?” I dug my heels into the ground, and as the man pulled my elbow to spur me forward, I leaned away, afraid of the darkness ahead.
“I said walk.” A hefty shove against my back had me running several steps to avoid falling forward. “Keep goin’.”
Each step took me farther into darkness, until the shadows were more prominent than light.
“That’s enough,” another voice said. My head turned toward it, not recognizing the cultured sound.
The speaker stood a bit behind the other man, his face more difficult to see. “What do you want from me?” My feet were braced apart, my knees slightly bent, ready to run if the opportunity presented itself.
“Abigail Swift.” The words were slow and methodical, like he was tasting my name on his tongue.
I wasn’t dealing with another clumsy hired hand. The voice, the way his words commanded attention, turned the frigid air to ice. I took a step back, wanting to distance myself from the threat I couldn’t see.
“No need to leave. We’ve only just begun.” I stopped and bit the inside of my cheek. Standing in the shadows was Nino Roselli. I was willing to bet my life on it.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“I know everything about you. Although, I will admit, it’s only been just recently that we found out about you at all. I made a mistake, and while I’m loath to admit that, it’s true. I assumed, wrongly, that the girl in the painting wasn’t real.” He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and stepped around the man standing in front of him.
His boots crunched against the gravel as he walked out of the shadows. His face was weathered, with deep creases at his eyes and around his mouth, yet an air of sophistication rose around him. His silvered hair was combed and sleek, and his build was lean, with the musculature of a man who’d spent his life outdoors.
“And then, as I was going through my grandfather’s things, I found this.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded newspaper clipping. He moved with care and intention, so as not to damage the fragile newsprint. “She looks remarkably familiar, don’t you agree?”
I swallowed and moved my gaze from his face to the paper he now held in front of me. It was a clipping from the Galveston Daily News. The printing was faded and yellowed, the edges worn and feathered. I stared at the image and blinked several times. There were two photographs. The first was of me, and the second was of a man I recognized as Thomas Bellingham. The headline under the photos read, Two Wanted in Connection to James Bellingham Murder.
“At first, I thought the artist had seen this clipping. Perhaps he was one of the many treasure hunters out there searching for the Florentine diamond. I assumed he stumbled across this photo and thought to use this image as his muse. You know, taking something from the time period and all.” Roselli turned the paper back to face him and frowned. “Foolish. I should’ve known it was something more.”
The way he said the last words made me cringe. “I don’t understand—”
Roselli held up a hand. “Then I remembered something rather important.” He took his time folding the paper before placing it back in his jacket pocket. He walked around me, his footsteps carefully placed and quiet. When he disappeared behind my back his footsteps stopped and my muscles tensed in fear.
“You see”—his lips were unexpectedly close to my ear, and I instinctively pulled away—“The diamond had never been photographed in the setting your boyfriend painted. In fact, only one person outside my family knew my grandfather had reset the diamond at all.”
He moved in front of me, and I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“Who?” I asked.
His lips turned up into a smile. “I think you already know.”
“I don’t, and I’ve never seen the necklace.” I kept my gaze steady, but something about the look in his eye—Roselli knew.
“No?” His head tilted to the side and the bottoms of his eyes lifted with mirth. “That’s not my understanding of how this works.”
I blinked several times. “Of how what works?”
“Your ability to see your past life, my dear.” The smile that started in his eyes now spread across his wrinkled face. “I told you, I know everything.”
I stilled, staring at the black spaces between the folds in his face. “How did you find out about my drift?” Cars zoomed overhead, their sound intermittent and distant.
“Your drift?” he asked, then shrugged the word away. “What you call it doesn’t matter. I’m only here for my necklace,” he said.
I shook my head and my jaw trembled as I spoke. “I told you, I don’t know.”
Roselli studied me, and one gray eyebrow arched in disbelief. “It’s never my intention to hurt a woman. I don’t like it.” He shrugged and folded his hands in front of his chest. “But please, don’t mistake that for a weakness.” He bent forward to better look me in the eyes. “Because I will hurt you if I have to. I will hurt the people you love, and I will break you until you’re begging to tell me what I want to know.”
I swallowed against the thick lump swelling in my throat. I didn’t want to cry, and while tears never fell, I knew that fright was etched in every bend of my skin. “You don’t understand. I’ve never seen where it—”
“Enough,” his voice was just above a whisper. He held a finger for silence before tapping it against his bottom lip. “I’d be very careful if I were you. Liars, I cannot tolerate.”
I clenched my jaw and looked down at the ground, littered with cigarette butts and bottle caps.
Roselli stepped away and spoke to the man who’d brought me here, his voice too low for me to hear. When he finished, the man nodded and moved to stand behind me. Panic shot down my spine. There wasn’t any way I could logically escape, but I couldn’t die. Not like this. Not here. Not now.
“If you know about my drift, then you have to know I can’t control it. It comes and goes, and what I do see isn’t always what I need to see. I wasn’t lying when I told you I don’t know where the necklace is.” He squinted his eyes and considered me. The urge to make him understand forced me to continue. “I’ve seen it, that’s true, but I don’t know where it’s hidden.”
Roselli picked at his fingernail and gave me a slow nod. “That’s too bad. How about your friend James?” My head shot up, and my jumbled thoughts cleared. “Does he know where it is?”
I shook my head frantically. “No. He’s never seen it.”
Roselli’s lips folded in a frown. “Pardon my disbelief, but isn’t he the one that painted the portrait?”
“Yes, but you don’t understand. He doesn’t—”
“I don’t need to understand.” His lips curved in a half smile as if I were a funny thing. “You have two days to retrieve my diamond before I come back for it.” He looked me up and down. “Make sure you have it.” Roselli turned to the van and took several steps in its direction.
“What if I can’t find it?” I called after him.
Roselli turned and considered my question before shrugging his shoulders. “I have all the confidence in the world you will.” His eyes narrowed. “If not, I will cut James into pieces you will never recognize. Do you understand me?”
“The FBI is watching us. You’ll never get near him.”
He chuckled. “How do you think I found you in the first place? You see, sometimes it’s good to know people on the inside.” His lips parted and cracked into a sideways smile. “Tell McCormack I said hi, by the way. It is always fun to reminisce with old friends.”
A shiver, cold and sharp, ran the length of my body, and the blood drained from my face. My thoughts were paralyzed, and I could do nothing but watch Roselli step into the van and disappear into its confines.
“Lay down on yer stomach,” the man behind me said. I knelt and did as he asked, completely unable to comprehend what had just happened. “Start counting backward from a hundred. Don’t git up till ya reach zero.”
The tie at my wrists popped, and I felt the blood rush to my fingers.
“Count,” he said, his voice firm.
“One hundred…ninety-nine…ninety-eight…” I closed my eyes, reeling over Roselli’s last words. Was he implying that Mack led Roselli to me? Of course, he was. How else would Roselli know when to find me alone? The betrayal sickened me, but this wasn’t anything new. Colin had spent years lying to me in our past life; Mack was no different.
“Eighty six…eighty five…” I listened to the van leave, hearing the tires crunch over bits of rock and dirt. I continued to count even after the sounds had stopped and the only noise was from the passing of cars on the freeway overhead.
Everything had turned upside down. For all that Mack had withheld, a part of me still believed he was a good man. But now I didn’t know who he was. I just knew he couldn’t be trusted, even if he did work for the FBI.
“Thirty-three…thirty-two…” I rolled to my back, my body gelatinous now that the threat had gone, and stared at the night sky, listening to my voice count down the numbers.
I’d neared the end when I heard my phone’s familiar ring. I listened to it like it was a dream. Like it was something that wasn’t real. It rang and rang and when it stopped, the absence was deafening.
“Nine…eight…seven…” The ringing began again. “Six…five…four…three…” Silence. “Two…one…zero.” I pushed myself to my feet and searched for the source of the sound. Fifty yards to my left and halfway up the embankment, was my bag. When I reached it, I dug through the contents, pulled out my cell, and swiped the screen.
“James,” I breathed into the receiver. “I need help.”