Colorado Bodyguard (5 page)

“I'd like that.” The pinched look left her face. “And thank you. Not just for that, but for all your help.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Just remember what I said before—you're not in this alone.”

Her eyes met his, dark pools that mesmerized him. Her gaze stripped away any mask of bravado he might wear in his everyday life, and seemed to see the real him, the man who wasn't always so sure of himself, but who wanted to be better and stronger, at least for her. She tilted her face up to his, her lips full and slightly parted. It would be so easy to dip his head and kiss her, to find out if the desire that sizzled inside him was something she felt, too...

“I...I'd better go.” She stepped back and focused on finding her keys in her purse. She ducked her head so that her hair fell forward, preventing him from gauging her mood, but his own face felt hot.

“I'll call before I stop by,” he said.

“Great. Thanks.” She moved toward her car and unlocked the door.

“What's that on your windshield?” He moved closer to study the white envelope with
Sophie
inscribed on the front in a looping, feminine hand.

Sophie stared at the missive, her face as white as the paper.

“What is it?” he asked. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” She snatched the envelope from beneath the windshield wiper. Her eyes widened, and she swayed.

Rand steadied her, his hands on her shoulders. “What is it?” he asked. “Do you know who it's from?”

She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head, eyes glistening. “It's from Lauren,” she whispered. “I'd recognize her handwriting anywhere.”

Chapter Five

Sophie stared at the envelope, her name scrawled across the front in Lauren's exuberant script. How many times had she seen that handwriting—on birthday cards and phone messages and reminder notes?
Sophie.
Six simple letters representing the first word Lauren had ever spoken, calling out to her now from the page.

Rand's arm around her steadied her, brought her back to the present, to the parking lot in the glaring sun, the wind tugging at her clothes and hair. “Let's go inside and see what it says,” he said, and urged her toward the office.

She let him lead her inside, where the captain, Emma and the others looked up. “What's wrong?” Carmen asked.

“Someone left an envelope tucked under the wiper blade on Sophie's windshield.” Rand led her to a chair and she sat, still gripping the envelope in both hands.

“Did you see who left it?” Graham asked.

Rand shook his head. “We were out there several minutes and we didn't see anyone. Whoever it was, they must have dropped it off while we were all inside.”

“It's Lauren's handwriting,” Sophie said. “I know it is. I need to see what she said.” She started to lift the flap on the envelope, but Rand covered her hand with his own, stopping her.

“Let me,” he said. “You don't want to destroy evidence...just in case.”

Carmen handed him a pair of gloves, which he slipped on. Then he slid a letter opener under the flap and carefully teased it open. “One sheet of paper,” he said, and showed the others. He tipped the envelope, and the paper fluttered onto the table.

Sophie stared at it. “Tell me what it says.”

Rand used the letter opener to unfold the paper and smooth it flat. Sophie leaned around his arm to see the words written there. “It's Lauren's handwriting,” she said again. “I'm positive.”

“What does it say?” Emma asked, moving to stand behind them.

Sophie scanned the words:

Dear Sophie,

Sorry I haven't been in touch but I'm fine. Don't worry. I've met my Mr. Wonderful and you know how happy that makes me. I'll write again when I can. In the meantime, go home and don't worry.

Love, Lauren.

Tears blurred the words; she blinked, trying to clear her vision. When she looked up from the page after reading the words again, she found Rand studying her intently, his expression both sympathetic and wary. “Can I read this to the others?” he asked.

She nodded, and he read the brief message out loud. “What do you make of that?” he asked Sophie when he was done.

She frowned. “It's her writing, and part of it sounds like her, but...something isn't right.”

“What's that about Mr. Wonderful?” Emma asked. “Did Lauren mention seeing anyone when you talked to her last?”

“That's the part that bothers me most,” Sophie said.

“So she wasn't seeing anyone?” Carmen asked.

“Maybe she met someone after the last time you talked,” Rand said.

“It's not that,” Sophie said. “It's the choice of words—Mr. Wonderful. She and I had this joke—whenever one of us went out with some guy who was full of himself, we called him Mr. Wonderful. As in he thought he was Mr. Wonderful and women should be falling all over him.” They'd had a lot of laughs over that, sisterly love erasing the pain and awkwardness of bad dates they'd each endured.

“So you only used those words sarcastically,” Carmen said.

“Exactly. And the next part—‘you know how happy that makes me.' It sounds like she's telling me how unhappy she is.” Pain squeezed her chest at the thought.

Rand pulled out the chair beside her and sat. “So you think the message is a code?” he asked.

“I guess you could call it that.” She studied the letter again, as if she might suddenly see some hidden message that hadn't yet revealed itself.

“And you're sure this is her handwriting, not simply a good forgery?” Graham moved closer to stand over the table.

“How would a forger know about our Mr. Wonderful joke?” Sophie asked.

“She's right,” Emma said. “Most people would say something like ‘I've met Mr. Right.' Or ‘I've met a great guy.'”

“What about her ex?” Rand asked. “He'd know her handwriting, and he'd know about the ‘Mr. Wonderful' phrase, though maybe he took it literally and didn't realize it was an inside joke.”

“Have you spoken to Phil?” Sophie asked.

“Not yet,” Rand said. “We telephoned his number and left a message, but we haven't heard anything.” The ex didn't seem a likely suspect in the disappearance of a wife who'd given him the divorce he wanted and was paying him support.

“Maybe someone forced Lauren to write this note,” Carmen said.

“Someone who knew where you'd be this afternoon,” Rand said.

“Do you think someone's been following me?” she asked. The thought sent a chill through her, and she hugged her arms across her stomach.

“I haven't noticed anyone,” Rand said. “I think I would have.”

She nodded. He'd always seemed alert and aware of things going on around them. “If they weren't following me, how did they—whoever they are—know that I was here? Did they just see my car out front and take advantage of the opportunity?”

“Even if they guessed you might come to the park because your sister disappeared here, they're taking a chance, driving around hoping to spot you,” Carmen said.

“They didn't necessarily have to physically tail you.” Graham looked thoughtful. “Not if they can track you electronically.”

“What is he talking about?” Sophie asked Rand.

Rand's mouth tightened into a hard line. “He's talking about a tracking device on your car.” He stood and she rose also and followed him, along with the others, out to the parking lot. He dropped to the ground and rolled over on his back and slid under the bumper. A moment later he emerged, a box about the size of a packet of cigarettes in his hand.

Sophie stared at the box, on which two lights blinked green. “That's a tracking device?”

“It has GPS.” He turned the box over, examining it. “Anyone with a computer and the right program can see wherever you go.”

Anger surged through her. She wanted to snatch the box out of his hand and stomp on it. “Why would someone do that?” she asked. “And has it been there ever since I got to Colorado?”

“Someone could have put it on while your car was parked at your hotel,” Carmen said.

“Or one of Prentice's guards could have put this on your car while we were inside talking to him,” Rand said.

“Then that means I was right—Lauren was at his house. He's holding her prisoner and he made her write the note, thinking it would make me go away.” She gripped his arm. “You have to rescue her.”

“We don't know where she is.” He looked pained as he said the words.

Was he being purposely dense? “She's at Richard Prentice's estate. This proves it.”

“This isn't proof.” The captain moved to stand in front of her, his expression stern, but his voice gentle. “This proves that someone is following you,” he said. “But we don't know who that is. We'll try to trace the origin of this device, but the chances of linking it to Richard Prentice are slim to none.”

“But the note...”

“Even if you're right and your sister wrote it, we don't know how it got to your car,” Graham said. “We'll question anyone who may have driven by and ask if they've seen anything, but it's easy enough for someone to park at the Ranger station and slip over here without anyone noticing.”

“She was in the house. I smelled her perfume.” She'd been that close to Lauren. Why hadn't she stayed there and demanded to see her?

“If we go back there now I can almost guarantee you won't find any trace of that scent,” Rand said. “If Richard Prentice does have your sister, he's been doing a good job of hiding that fact for the last month.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, fighting for control. Was Lauren imprisoned in a locked room or dungeon, like women she'd read about in the papers or seen on TV who had been held prisoner for years, invisible to everyone who lived and worked around them?

“There must be something you can do,” she said after a moment.

“We'll put extra surveillance on Prentice's estate,” Graham said.

“He'll love that,” Emma said. “He's already suing the Rangers for harassment.”

“Can't you get a warrant to search his property?” Sophie asked.

“On what grounds?” Graham asked. “Not to mention a billionaire like Prentice wields a lot of influence.”

“And he has a state senator on his side,” Rand said. “The only way to overcome their opposition is to gather convincing evidence and have a solid case. Which we intend to do.”

“How will you do that?” she asked.

“We'll start with the hotel clerk,” Graham said. “We'll see if she can identify the man who was with your sister. We know it wasn't Richard Prentice, but maybe it was someone who works for him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“Follow Lauren's advice and try not to worry,” Graham said, though the sympathy in his eyes told her he knew how difficult that would be.

“Let me help you,” she said. “There must be something I can do—paperwork, phone calls...” Anything was better than sitting around worrying.

“When you go back to your hotel this afternoon, try to remember everything you can about your last conversations with her,” Rand said. “Even something insignificant might help us understand why she came to Montrose and what she hoped to accomplish here.”

It wasn't what she wanted, but she could see it was all she had, for now. She nodded. “All right. And you'll let me know if you find out anything at all?”

He nodded. “I'll stop by this evening.” He handed the tracking device to Carmen, then took Sophie's arm and guided her back to the driver's side of the car. “I know this is hard,” he said. “But try to stay strong, for Lauren's sake. This is a priority now. We'll do everything we can to find her.”

“You believe me, don't you?” She studied his face, searching for confirmation that he was on her side. “You believe that I smelled Lauren's perfume and I recognized her handwriting?”

“I believe you.”

“You're not just saying it to be nice?”

“I work with a dog who can recognize the faintest scents—ones the human nose can't detect. Why wouldn't you recognize a perfume your sister wore all the time? Scent is one of the most powerful senses, and even though we don't have the ability of dogs, we associate certain smells with specific people and situations.”

“Are you comparing me to a dog?” She managed a smile to show she wasn't insulted.

“Hey, I meant it as a compliment. I think a lot of my dog.”

“I'll remember that.” Though dogs frightened her, she wished she had someone she could feel as close to right now.

“Hang in there.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I'll see you this evening. Maybe we can go to dinner. It will do you good to get out of the hotel for a while.”

“All right. See you then.” She slid into the driver's seat and fit the key into the ignition. She'd do as he suggested and focus on staying strong, for Lauren's sake. But she'd never imagined how hard that would be. Today had been like losing her sister all over again.

* * *

“W
HAT
 
IF
 
WE
'
RE
looking in the wrong direction, and Prentice doesn't have anything to do with Lauren Starling's disappearance?” Marco Cruz, his expression unreadable behind his dark sunglasses, asked the question as he and Rand and Lotte headed to the Country Inn that afternoon.

“Anything's possible,” Rand said. “Maybe it's an incredible coincidence that everything appears to point back to him.”

“Prentice knew Lauren,” Marco said. “Maybe she even came here to see him. But I don't see any motivation for him to kidnap her.”

“Maybe she found out something about his operation that he didn't want getting out.”

“In that case, I think he'd kill her. Why keep her around for a month?”

“I don't know, but I hope Sophie's right and Lauren really did write that letter. Wherever she is, I hope she's still alive.”

“After all she's been through, the woman deserves a break,” Marco said.

“Yeah. She dropped everything to come down here and look for her sister—not many people would do that.”

“I was talking about Lauren, but yeah, I can see it's been hard on Sophie, too.”

Rand hoped Sophie was able to get some rest at her hotel this afternoon, though he doubted it. She clearly felt responsible for her sister, almost the way a mother might feel about a child. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?” he asked.

“I've got six sisters.” Marco folded his arms over his chest. “I'm the youngest.”

Rand started to make a joke about the baby of the family, but nothing about the muscular, six-foot, ex–Special Forces DEA agent said “baby.” “Do they all still try to look after you?” he asked.

“They do. When I was still in California they were always up in my business, telling me what to do, what to eat, what to wear, who to date. I told them I had one mother, I didn't need six more, but they don't listen.”

“I guess that could get to be a little much. But now that you're so far away, do you miss them?”

“Nope.” He glanced at Rand. “But if anybody tried to hurt one of them, I'd do whatever it took to find that person and make him pay.”

Pity the man—or woman—who had to face Marco's wrath, Rand thought. He signaled for the turn into the motel parking lot. Marco retrieved the tablet with the mug shots they'd put together while Rand let Lotte out of the back and clipped on her leash. She gave a big shake, like an athlete loosening up before a race, then looked up at him, wagging her tail. “I don't have a job for you right now, girl,” he said. “Just thought you'd like to stretch your legs.”