Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Beanie yanked the phone away from Peyton. “Too bad he’s not a smarter fed. Now, where were we?” He scooted a chair forward and sat. His knees touched hers. She shifted them but couldn’t move far enough. She crunched her teeth together. She couldn’t do anything stupid.
“You were about to let Max go so I’d tell you Jenny’s location.” The statement came out strong, unwavering, belying the piercing fingernails of dread in her soul.
Beanie leaned forward. The gash on his forehead creased, and blood rushed to the open surface. He swiped it away. “You admit you saw the address?”
She moved her tongue in an attempt to draw moisture to her mouth. “I saw it, yes. I remember the location but not the full address.”
His gaze moved over her face, as if weighing the truth in her words.
He rubbed his thumb against the pads of his fingers.
The faint brushing sound was the only noise in the room.
Then he reached forward and dragged his fingertip over her exposed thigh.
She jerked her knee away. Her skin crawled.
His lips stretched over his teeth. Bringing his hand to her fingers, he stroked her knuckles.
“I’m not letting anyone go,” he said calmly. “Here are your choices: a quick, painless death, or one filled with torture and . . .” His eyes dropped to her breasts and then her lap, where they lingered. “Fun. For me, anyway.”
Hope fought with the desperation trying to bury her. Rhett was alive. If anyone could find her, it was him.
If he caught my hint.
“And what happens to Jenny?”
He shrugged. “You know the answer.”
She tried to force her fragmented thoughts into one logical one.
If she was going to die anyway, she wouldn’t take someone else with her.
Cold sweat touched her top lip, and she dragged her teeth over the flesh to stop the tickle.
She met the lifeless depths of his irises. “Then you know my answer.”
His jaw flexed and he stood, pushing back the chair. He shoved it to a corner and removed a gun from his pants. “Fine.”
Her body hardened to slate as he aimed the weapon at her forehead. She turned her face away. Tremors possessed her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the rip of a bullet through her flesh.
“Look at me!” Beanie’s scream made the cement under her feet vibrate.
She jerked her head in his direction and opened her eyes. Beanie smiled, aimed the gun at Max’s chest, and fired.
Crack! Crack!
Max’s body spasmed. Petals of blood blossomed on his chest and spread from the two holes. Her friend’s eyes shifted to her and glazed. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she gasped for air.
Max’s chest heaved. Then Beanie brought the gun to Max’s temple.
Crack!
Blood and flesh flung from the opposite side of Max’s head, coating the wall in purple and red matter.
“Ah, fuck!” Len screamed and leaped backward, but the splatter showered his face and colored his shirt.
Vomit projected from Peyton’s stomach. She leaned forward and expelled searing-hot fluid onto the floor at Beanie’s feet.
Tears mixed with sweat on her face as she spit the last of the puke from her mouth.
A low buzz sounded in her ears and her vision blurred and then focused, blurred and then focused.
“Congratulations,” Beanie sang. His voice penetrated the pitter-patter of her pulse and the mesh coating her brain. “You’ve just committed your first murder.”
He stepped over the puddle she’d created and stalked across the room. His beige loafers filled her vision. A rustle of material assured her he’d pocketed the weapon.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He patted her hand. Her gag reflex jumped at his touch. Then his hand slid over her knuckles. In one swift movement, he jerked up her wrist, grabbed her right pinky, and twisted.
A scream erupted from her chest as her bone snapped in two. Pain shot through her arm and black spots dotted her vision. Her head fell backward and a gray curtain dropped, clicking off her mind.
Rhett passed Moretti’s phone to Mandy and drove his hand through his hair.
The setting sun warmed the skin on the back of his neck but did nothing to thaw the ice in his veins.
He’d failed. Not just Peyton, but himself.
And Peyton’s friends. God, Dani would take this hard.
All because he’d fucked up. He pressed his palm to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood oscillated at his temples.
His mind buzzed with information and tore apart every piece of the case: Max’s disappearance, Vicky’s death .
. . There had to be something he wasn’t seeing, something he’d overlooked.
Christ, if he were less attached to the investigation on a personal level, he’d be able to think like a federal agent.
Instead, he was too caught up in the images that invaded his focus.
The strawberry tint of Peyton’s blonde hair, which gleamed in the sunlight and made him wonder if she’d been more of a redhead as a kid.
The laughing, know-it-all smirk she’d flashed at him a dozen times since he rescued her on Moretti’s yacht.
Her body spread out in his bed, her long locks fluffy from their lovemaking and pink marks on her neck and breasts from his kisses.
A vise squeezed his heart.
Mandy caught his arm. “What’d he say?”
He shook his head. “He said he’s going to—” His voice broke and he shook his head. “We have to find her. Get me a location on Beanie’s number. Odds are his phone’s encrypted, but we need to start somewhere.”
“Sure. Did he say anything else? Did you speak to Peyton?” Worry creased Mandy’s forehead, and he kicked himself in the ass for believing for even a second that she could have been in on this.
He swallowed down the marbles that had collected inside his throat. “Yeah.” He turned away and recalled Peyton’s words. He’d asked her for a clue and instead, she’d given him something about her sister. His mind churned until one thought came forward, hard and strong.
He seized Mandy’s shoulder. “She doesn’t have a fucking sister!”
Mandy cocked her head, but he ignored her questioning look and pulled out his phone. Only one person could clear this up. He dialed Brock’s number.
“Hey, bro. How’s the sunshine state?”
“I need to speak to Dani.” The words rushed out as if a dam had broken inside him.
“She’s inside. What’s up?”
“Get her. It’s important.”
“All right,” Brock said, unease lacing his voice. “One minute.” He heard a door opening. “It’s Rhett. He says it’s important.”
“Hi, Rhett. How’s it going?” Her cheery voice held a tinge of hesitancy.
“Don’t freak out, but it’s about Peyton. I’ll tell you what’s going on, but first I need to know something.”
“What?” The word came out rapidly.
“Does Peyton have a sister named Erica?”
A beat passed. “A sister? No. Peyton’s an only child.”
He rubbed the tip of his thumb between his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I need you to think really hard. What about a foster sister? Someone she spent time with at the beach.”
“Rhett, I’m telling you, I’ve never heard her use that name before. There must be some kind of confusion. Tell me what this is about and maybe I’ll be more help.”
He sighed and stared at a crack in the driveway. A weed spurted through. “She’s missing. One of Moretti’s men has her.”
“Oh my god!”
Her sob ripped at his heart. “I’ll find her.” The promise evaporated the crushing weight of doubt building inside him. He’d find her or kill himself trying.
More tears and what sounded like confused comforting from Brock sounded through the earpiece. “I don’t understand. Why would her having a sister mean anything?” Dani asked hoarsely.
“I asked her for a clue and she said, ‘If anything happens to me, tell my sister Erica I love her and I’ll always remember our days at the beach.’”
“It’s some kind of code.”
Rhett’s gaze landed on the street where, minutes before, Eric had left with Moretti and another officer in one of the cop cruisers.
“Jesus. She’s talking about Eric. Eric’s in on this.
” He dragged his hand over his sun-scorched scalp.
“Fuck!” Not even an hour before he’d let the slimy bastard slip through his hands. Goddammit to hell and back.
“Who’s Eric?”
“I’ll call you back.” He disconnected and felt a sharp twang of guilt for cutting Dani off, but he had to move quick.
“Mandy, get in the car,” he bellowed. She tossed him the keys and he slid into the driver’s seat.
“Do you have a lead?”
“Yeah. Peyton gave me a hint about Eric.” He quickly recapped Peyton’s cryptic message. “I need you to find out if he owns any property on the beach.”
Mandy scrunched her face. “Eric rents an apartment.”
He turned the key in the ignition and shoved the shift into drive. “Just look into it, okay?” He had to drive, had to keep moving. Even if it meant going in fucking circles.
“All right, I’ll call Tommy.”
“Have him be discreet.”
Mandy got on the phone and gave Tommy instructions. A few minutes later, the phone pressed to her ear, she shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Give me the phone,” he growled. There was no chance this was some mistake. Peyton had reason to believe Eric owned the property Beanie held her at, and dammit, he’d find out why.
“Check into his family, ex-wife, don’t leave a stone unturned,” he said to Tommy. “Understand?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll need some time—”
“Call me back in fifteen minutes.”
“B-But, that’s not enough—”
“Make it enough.” He ended the call and dropped the phone in the cupholder.
Mandy sat tensely beside him. “I’m just going to throw this out there, but I find it hard to believe Eric’s involved. The dude’s as vigilant as you are. He works his ass off even if he’s a pain in one sometimes.”
He glanced at Mandy and took in her wide, disbelieving eyes. “Something was fishy when he showed up at Max’s. Instinct counts for something, doesn’t it? And now Peyton’s left me a hint. I can’t—won’t—overlook it.”
She held up her hand. “Fine. If he’s innocent it won’t matter. But we’re wasting precious time.” She turned to look out the window. “Where are we going?”
He smiled. “Eric’s. He’s at the station making sure Moretti gets booked.”
She turned her body toward him, straining against her seatbelt. “You can’t be serious.”
He turned onto Eric’s street. “Like you said, we’re wasting time. I’ll take a quick look around.”
“Uh-uh.” She waved her hand in the air. “You’re out of your mind.”
He pulled into the parking lot and slammed the car into park. Leaning to rest his elbow on the console, he invaded Mandy’s personal space and met her lively green eyes. “If you warn him, I’ll consider you in on this.” He tapped her hand. “Wait here.”
He got out then skirted the side of the apartment building.
No way he’d chance going in through the lobby and Eric’s front door, especially when he didn’t have a lockpick set on him.
He’d been inside Eric’s place only twice, but as he scanned the white stucco wall, he recognized the main-floor unit with a lone green lawn chair overlooking the river.
Grabbing the railing, he swung his legs over the edge and dropped down in front of the sliding door.
He pressed the handle and the glass glided open as smoothly as butter melting on a skillet.
He shut the door behind him and was greeted by the scent of sweaty gym socks.
He wrinkled his nose but quickly made his way around the coffee table and toward the single bedroom off the living room.
A used towel was draped over the side of Eric’s unmade bed, but other than that the room wasn’t too messy.
He went to the nightstand first and opened the drawers.
The first one held a box of condoms, a book whose title he didn’t care to read, and earplugs.
The other two held nothing but junk. Then he moved to the dresser against the wall and rummaged through Eric’s clothing—nothing.
“Fuck!” He slammed the bottom drawer and a piece of driftwood rolled off the top of the dresser. Bending to pick it up, he turned over the bleached, featherlight timber. There was a carving on the back:
Paradise of the Sea
He smoothed his thumb over the dents in the gently cracked wood and reread the words. Houses located on older parts of the island had names as well as street addresses.
Driftwood. It had to be from the house Eric—or his family—owned. Tearing his phone from his pocket, he exited the way he’d entered and typed the name in the search engine. A red pin popped up on the GPS.
He darted around the palm trees that dotted the lawn and jumped into the car. Mandy lifted her gaze from her phone. “I heard from—wait, did you find something?”
“Yup. A property called Paradise of the Sea.”
Her usually cheerful features hardened. “That’s what Tommy found too. Turns out Eric’s father owns the beach house, but he’s away on business.”
Rhett slammed his palm against the steering wheel and jammed his buckle into place. “That sonofabitch.”
He reversed and drove out of the parking lot as the GPS sang out directions.
His mind whirled like an overshaken snow globe.
The sweat dotting his hairline rolled into his eyes, and he quickly brushed it away.
He shoved his foot onto the gas pedal and the speedometer ratcheted up as quickly as his pulse.
If he was too late, he’d never forgive himself.
Hang on, honey. I’m coming.