CHAPTER TWENTY
Hector’s phone rang and Brandon shot him a look. His partner answered and listened while Brandon tapped the dashboard, impatience eating through him.
As soon as Hector hung up, Brandon pounced. “What?”
“The chopper spotted a black BMW entering the parking garage where Don Bradley works.”
Brandon blinked. “Don Bradley? What does he have to do with this?”
“Maybe he’s the one who took them?”
“But why?”
“Who knows? Maybe he’s got his own reasons.”
“But would he dare take them to his office? It’s too simple, isn’t it?”
“I’d say we’re going to have to check it out.”
“What if it’s a decoy?” He paused then checked his weapon. “Call for backup to head that way. I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“His business is textiles, right?”
“Yes.”
“If you wanted to get rid of someone without a trace and you owned a textile business, how would you do it?”
Brandon shuddered and a wave of nausea swept over him as he thought. “Textile companies use acid for various things. I’d say there’s probably enough in the building to hide a murder.”
Hector flinched and stepped on the gas. Brandon prayed even as he got on the phone and formulated a plan. He filled his boss in. “I need help here, Christine. I need blueprints of the building. I need a way to clear the building without letting Don know we’re onto him. I need a SWAT team and a hostage negotiator. Send them all and send them fast.”
“They’re on the way.”
“And I am, too.”
* * *
Ignoring the intense throbbing at the base of her skull, Sonya pressed her palm hard against the door. If he was going to kill her, someone was going to find out she’d been here and she was going to leave evidence behind.
Her throat ached at the thought of dying and never knowing if she and Brandon could have had something wonderful. She hated the pain her death would cause him.
But maybe he’d figure it out soon.
She prayed for Max. She prayed for them all.
She’d seen Mr. Lehman looking out his front window. He’d seen her get into the black BMW, and she knew once Max was found, a full-on investigation would kick into play.
Once inside the building, Don directed her down a long hall past several other doors. They turned, right, then left, and by the time he finally stopped and let go of her hair, she knew she’d have a hard time finding her way back should she manage to get away from him. He gave her another hard shove toward a door marked with a hazardous symbol. “Step to the side.”
“What are you doing, Don?” Mrs. Bradley finally spoke, coming out of her shocked stupor.
Don jumped and stared at her as though he’d forgotten all about her. Sonya’s nerves twitched and she shifted. The weapon swung back to her even as he addressed his wife. “I have to take care of things.” He handed her his keys. “I want you to go up to my office and wait for me.”
She ignored the keys. “Take care of what? What about Sonya? Why does she think you’re going to kill her?”
“I’m not going to kill her,” he soothed her. “Sonya and I have business to take care of. Then we’ll join you.”
“What kind of business? Why do you have a gun? You shot that man at Sonya’s house. Why?”
“Will you stop asking questions and do what I asked you to do?” His shout echoed through the area. His wife flinched and narrowed her eyes.
Then her shoulders slumped and she turned without another word.
“No, wait!” Sonya cried. “You can’t do this!”
Ann paused, but didn’t turn.
Don ignored her and simply reached over to punch in the code to the room. The door opened.
He shoved the gun into her rib and moved her inside.
Sonya frantically scrambled for an escape plan. Ann followed her inside.
“What are you doing? I told you to go upstairs.” Ann stared at him. Don shook his head. “Fine. Fine. I’ll just have to deal with you, too.”
She didn’t offer a response, but didn’t leave, either.
Don moved behind his desk and picked up a key. “Now, it’s time to end this once and for all.”
“What are you going to do? If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me!” Sonya knew at such close range, her chances of ducking were slim, but if he started shooting, maybe the noise would bring someone running.
“Shoot you? Of course not.”
She stared at the gun and wondered if he’d lost his mind. “Then what?” she whispered. Why had he brought her here if he didn’t plan to kill her? Confusion swept through her.
“You’ll see. And I promise, it’s relatively painless.”
* * *
Brandon and Hector arrived at the parking garage only seconds ahead of the other officers. “There’s the black BMW.”
“You think it’s his?”
“No idea.” Brandon walked over to the vehicle and placed a palm on the hood. “It’s hot. Hasn’t been here long.”
“First letter on the license plate is an H. Let’s get a search going. We’ll have to lock down the building. No one in or out.”
Brandon nodded, his brain spinning, fear for Sonya wanting to short-circuit his thoughts. When Hector finished giving orders and putting the plan into motion, Brandon eyed the door with the combination code. “He wouldn’t take them through the building, where anyone would see them.”
“The basement?”
“Where does that door go?”
Hector tapped a few keys on his phone. “I had the blueprints emailed to me.” More tapping. “Looks like it does go into an area that’s sealed off. A hazardous area.”
“That’s where we need to go. I need the code. Who would have it?” he muttered. Then looked up. “The security officer. Where is he?”
Within seconds, they had the man at the door, punching in the code.
* * *
Sonya kept her fear under control. Barely. Mrs. Bradley had once again lapsed into a catatonic state. She’d backed up to the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Now she stared, a blank, empty stare that said she’d suffered too much and had mentally checked out.
Sonya felt horrible at having exposed Don’s affair with his sister-in-law in such a blunt way, but she’d been desperate and hoped the knowledge would spur the woman into helping her.
Instead it had sent her into a place in her mind that Sonya wasn’t sure she’d ever come back from.
Don kept the weapon on her. The room they’d entered had a sign on the door that read Authorized Personnel Only. He shoved her toward one of the two matching steel chairs. “Sit down.” She sat. With the gun still trained on her, he glanced into the other room toward his wife. “Ann!” The woman didn’t move. Didn’t blink. With a curse, he shook his head. “She’s always been weak. Weak but loaded.”
“So you married her for her money?”
“Of course not. I loved Ann. I would have done anything for her. But when she couldn’t have children, she changed.”
“So why not just leave her? Why kidnap the only child she’d ever have and send her deeper into depression?”
“Because the child was mine. And her sister’s. And if her sister ever said a word, I was done.” His steady hand never wavered and the gun never moved from her as he backed toward a file cabinet and opened the second drawer with his free hand. “You see, I signed a prenup. If Ann ever decided to divorce me, I would get nothing.”
“And if Miriam ever said anything, Ann would divorce you without hesitation,” she whispered. He blinked but didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. “You killed Miriam, didn’t you?”
Don pulled a large hunting knife from his desk drawer.
Fear crawled through her. “What are you going to do with me?” Relatively painless or not, she wanted to know.
He set the knife on his desk and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Sonya knew he’d just confirmed what she’d known all along. He might not plan to shoot her, but he did plan to get rid of her.
“You don’t have to kill me.” She felt the quiver in her voice, but was glad it didn’t come out in her words. She wanted to be strong. To believe help would come.
But help might be a long way off. She was going to have to rescue herself. Lord, I need You to help me stay calm and think clearly. But I wouldn’t mind some help if You could please send Brandon. Let him figure out where we are.
“Yes. Yes, I do.” He approached, duct tape in one hand, weapon in the other.
The coldness in his eyes made her shudder. “What does it matter now?” she cried. “You didn’t want Ann finding out that you had the affair with her sister. Well, now she knows. What else is there that you don’t want anyone to find out? What threat am I to you? Let me go and we’ll forget this ever happened.” She cast a glance at the still-open door. Don was either too preoccupied or too cocky to bother with shutting it. Ann hadn’t moved. If she could make it to the outer door, she had a chance.
“Don’t even think about it. I can’t let you go. He’ll find out and I’ll be on the streets.” She almost didn’t catch the low muttered words.
“Who’ll find out?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Who?” she pressed.
“My father-in-law,” he shouted. “The dictator.” He moved toward her with the tape. Sonya stood and whirled to stand behind the chair.
Don stopped and blinked as if he couldn’t believe she’d actually just defied him. The gun lifted. “I was trying to do this the nonmessy way, but—”
Sonya gripped the edges of the chair and in one smooth seamless move lifted it and crashed it into his outstretched arm.
Don screamed and the weapon clattered to the floor.
Sonya bolted through the open door.
His curses behind her filled the air as she ran, not knowing where she was going, but praying it was toward safety.
* * *
“Did you hear that?” Brandon lifted a hand.
“It was faint, but it sounded like someone yelling,” Hector said.
“This way.” Brandon moved down the hall, made a turn and came face-to-face with another hallway that branched off into two directions. He stopped. “Which way? It’s a maze down here.”
Hector glanced at his phone. “The blueprints aren’t much help. Unless we know exactly where they are, I don’t know which direction to take.” He lifted his head. “You hear anything else?”
“No.” Brandon listened. “Wait. Footsteps?”
“Maybe, but from where?”
Brandon shook his head. “I can’t tell.” Frustration filled him. Which way? “We can’t just stand here.” The officers shifted behind him. He turned. “Fan out. Split up. Check every room, every closet. I think we have the element of surprise, so be quiet and be careful. He’s armed. Go.” They went, their footsteps making little sound on the hall tiles. He looked at Hector. “Let me see those blueprints again, will you?”
Hector handed him the phone. Brandon moved his finger across the screen then zoomed in on the area where they now stood. “Okay, there’s a large area. Looks like a warehouse type space. Over here are offices—”
Officers headed back their way, guns held, faces grim. “All clear back this way.”
Brandon handed the phone back to Hector and motioned toward the next hall. “Then we go this way.”
“Stop!”
Brandon froze. “You hear that?”
“Yeah. That way.”
* * *
“I said stop!”
Sonya heard his furious shout as she raced down the hallway, her tennis shoes slapping against the tiles. A glance over her right shoulder sent terror shooting through her. Don followed right behind her, eyes full of fury, burning holes into her back while his right hand gripped the hunting knife. Fear spurred her faster.
She turned a corner, then another. She had no idea where she was. A large door at the end of the hallway beckoned. With an extra burst of speed, she reached it and yanked on the handle.
Locked.
And then he had her.
He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and glared down at her. “You have to know the code,” he snarled.
Sonya kicked out and caught him in the knee as she spun from his grip. With a howl of pain, he struck out and landed a hard fist against her cheek.
Pain blinded her for a brief moment. Long enough for him to punch in the code and shove her through the door.
She stumbled and fell to the floor. “Leave me alone!” Scents assaulted her. The smell of vinegar nearly overpowered her. Her gaze darted even as her brain processed the new environment. A large open area with a high steel ceiling. Blue barrels filled with whatever chemicals were used in the textile industry.
And no other exit that she could see.
Don yanked her to her feet and pushed her toward a set of steel steps that led to a second floor. A matching steel balcony ran the length of the fifty-yard wall.
He had no weapon but the knife, she realized. He hadn’t taken the time to grab his gun before coming after her. But he was strong. Much stronger than she. And the knife was wicked-looking and sharp.
Her face throbbed. Her head ached and nausea churned in her belly. “Why are you doing this? They’ll find you and figure it out and you’ll go to jail for murder. Stop now and you won’t spend the rest of your life in prison!”
“Shut up!” He gave her another shove. She fell against the step. Pain shot up her shin. He grasped her hair once again and twisted. She cried out and her vision dimmed.
“Move!” She winced at his shout. Dizziness hit her and she fought it off.
Sonya regained her footing and took the stairs slowly, her brain spinning, her body aching. Barrels of acid below, the unknown above. At the top of the stairs, with his hand still gripping her hair, he paused as though to get his bearings. She realized he was undecided about what to do.
The acidic vinegar smell nauseated her, and her head pounded, begging for relief. Tears leaked from her eyes and prayers slipped from her lips.
A sound from below pulled her captor to a halt.
“Sonya!”
Brandon’s frantic cry had never sounded so sweet.