Deadly Intent (34 page)

And since the thrift shop didn’t deliver, she had also volunteered the Acura.

Although Rose was still mourning Ian, she had rebounded remarkably well, partly because she kept busy at the diner, taking shifts no one else wanted, and partly because the poor woman was all cried out. It was silly, but in a way, Abbie felt responsible for Rose. Ian’s death had left her high and dry, and if she hadn’t found a job she apparently liked, Abbie had been ready to offer her one. But what she felt for Rose went a step beyond responsibility. She actually liked the woman. And it made her feel good to see her excited about her new home.

The small duplex sat on a shaded street in Lawrenceville and consisted of two small bedrooms, one bath, a living room and a kitchen that had made Rose squeal with delight. Her roommate wasn’t much of a cook, but Rose admitted to being somewhat of a gourmet buff, which gave her and Abbie one more thing in common.

Apparently rested enough, Rose glanced at Abbie. “Ready?”

Abbie looked up at the dozen or so steps remaining and wondered why they hadn’t taken the bed apart and brought it up to Rose’s room one piece at a time. Then, chiding herself for being such a wimp, she gripped the rail. “Ready,” she replied.

Once the bed was in place, Rose looked around her. “I wish I could have brought more with me,” she said. “But Ian was in such a hurry to leave Toledo, I sold all I had, including a practically new TV set.”

“I know one or two reputable places that sell used television sets,” Abbie said, brushing the dust from her T-shirt. “Say the word and I’ll take you there.”

Rose’s eyes filled with gratitude. “I’m glad we’ve become friends, although to tell you the truth, you feel more like a sister to me than a friend. Do you feel the same way?”

Abbie smiled. The woman’s candor was downright refreshing. “Yes, Rose, I do.”

They walked back down to the car, but as Abbie started to reach inside the truck for the mirror, Rose went still.

“What’s the matter?” Abbie followed Rose’s gaze and saw she was staring at a maroon vehicle parked across the street. Behind the wheel, so tall he had to hunch over, was a man wearing dark sunglasses and a cowboy hat.

“Someone you know?” Abbie asked.

Rose seemed paralyzed. “Not really, but...” She turned back, her face pale. “Abbie, I think that’s Arturo Garcia.”

Abbie threw the man a sharp glance. He looked big enough to be her assailant, but with that hat and the glasses, it was impossible to tell for sure.

“It can’t be,” she said. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here, in broad daylight, with every cop in the state looking for him. And anyway, he doesn’t have a goatee.”

Rose didn’t take her eyes off the car. “He could have shaved it.”

“Rose, you’re being paranoid.”

“I’m telling you it’s him. The cards said so this morning. Call the police.”

“You’ve never even met him. All you know is what Ian—“

“Call the police!”

She had shouted those last words loud enough for the man in the car to hear them. Suddenly, he threw the newspaper aside, gunned the engine and left in a squeal of tires.

Abbie scrambled for her cell phone, but it was too late. The man Rose was certain was Arturo Garcia was long gone.

John arrived ten minutes later and took a description of the car.

“I didn’t get a chance to get the tag numbers,” Abbie said, wishing her reflexes had been quicker. “But the car had New Jersey plates, with the same Shore to Please logo as I have on the Acura.”

John made note of that before calling in the info to the police dispatcher.

“A couple of squad cars are on their way,” he said after he hung up. “If the man you saw is Arturo and he’s headed back to Trenton, they’ll catch him.”

“And if he’s not going to Trenton?” Rose asked.

“The fact that he was here shows he’s beginning to take chances. If that’s the case, we’ll get him.”

“But why is he taking chances?” Rose’s fears had not ebbed. “And why is he following me? I don’t have anything.”

“But I do.” Abbie said quietly.

Rose gave her a curious look. “You? Why would you say that?”

Abbie hadn’t planned on telling her about Ian’s blackmailing, but with Arturo hanging outside Rose’s new home, she felt she owed her an explanation. She had put her in the line of fire, so to speak, and she had a right to know why. Abbie looked at John, who understood what she was about to do and nodded.

Rose listened intently, but instead of being upset at Abbie for lying to her initially, she gave her one of her mighty hugs. “You poor thing,” she said. “Carrying that burden all by yourself. You should have told me.” She released her. “I knew Ian was up to something when I found that letter, but I wasn’t sure what.” Her cheeks were white with anger. “I’m sorry for what he put you through, Abbie. And sorry I ever loved that rotten son of a bitch.” A sad smile worked its way to her lips. “I guess there’s no accounting for taste, huh?”

Abbie wrapped her arm around Rose’s shoulder. “We’ve all been there at one time or another, so don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?”

But Rose had already forgotten her woes and was focusing on Abbie. “You really think Arturo wants your money?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. He was a madman that night at the lake, yelling at me over and over to give

him the money. I’m certain he would have killed me just to get his hands on the forty-eight thousand dollars.”

“Abbie is right.” John looked up and down the quiet street. “The money is the reason he hung around after killing Ian.”

“But what was he trying to accomplish by following us here?”

“He may have been trying to find out where I lived.” At the thought of finding that animal hidden behind her bushes, ready to attack her again, Abbie broke into a cold sweat.

The look of worry on Rose’s face grew. “If Abbie is in danger, shouldn’t she be under some kind of police protection?”

John took his cell phone out. “Definitely.”

“No way,” Abbie protested. “I won’t have my life disrupted and my son unnecessarily frightened by the presence of a police officer around our home.”

But John was already dialing. “Ben won’t even know he’s there.”

Any further objections would have been useless. John was already talking to someone named Officer Wilcox and making the necessary arrangements.

Although Abbie had turned down John’s offer at first, knowing that she and Ben would have around-the-clock protection brought her peace of mind. She may not have wanted to admit it. but the sight of Arturo Garcia outside Rose’s new home had spooked her. If he was crazy enough to come out of hiding and follow Abbie around, who knew what he was capable of?

The lunch hour at Campagne was over, and she and her staff were cleaning up, when Sean handed her the phone. “It’s your baby-sitter.”

“Ms. DiAngelo,” Tiffany said when Abbie took the phone. “Did we get our signals crossed? Was I supposed to come later today?”

Abbie glanced at the clock. It was exactly two-thirty. “No, why would you think that?”

“Because you picked up Ben from school, and I didn’t know anything about it.”

For a second, Abbie had no reaction. What was Tiffany talking about? She hadn’t—

Her heart gave a powerful thump in her chest. “Tiffany, Ben is not with me.”

“But... you picked him up!” There was an edge of panic in the young woman’s voice that matched the panic Abbie felt rising inside her. “I called Ben’s friend, Jimmy Hernandez, and he said you did. He saw Ben get into your truck.”

“But that’s impossible! I haven’t left the restaurant!”

A sudden hush had fallen over the kitchen. In two long strides, Brady was by her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Ben d-didn’t go home,” she stammered.

“There has to be a logical explanation.”

Tiffany was talking again, her voice more agitated with each passing second. “I don’t understand. Jimmy said your car was there, parked at the curb. He saw it. You honked the horn and Ben ran to it.”

“Didn’t you hear a word I said?” Abbie shouted, on the brink of hysteria. “I wasn’t there! It wasn’t me. And it wasn’t my truck!”

Brady touched her arm. “Abbie, calm down. Let me talk to Tiffany.”

“I won’t calm down. I want to know where my son is!”

Brady took the phone from her hand, but kept her close, one arm around her shoulder. Fear was engulfing her, choking her. She was aware of someone pressing a glass of

water into her hands. She pushed it away and shut her eyes, as if shutting out the light would also shut out the horrible images that were beginning to form in her head. Over the last six months, there had been three cases of child abduction in central New Jersey . All three children had been raped, then strangled. One of them, Eric Sommers, was a Princeton boy, whose body had been found only a month ago in Herrontown Park.

The darkness threatened to pull her in, but she fought it. No matter how raw her fear, she needed to stay alert, and strong, for Ben.

She took a breath, and another, until she was able to think rationally. Ben hadn’t been on the bus, but Brady was right. There had to be an explanation. Maybe one of the mothers that routinely picked up their son from school had given Ben a ride home, and Jimmy had gotten the two trucks mixed up. Or maybe Ben had gone to a friend’s house, not Jimmy Hernandez, but someone else, and had forgotten to tell Abbie.

“Stay where you are, Tiffany,” Brady said, still talking to the baby-sitter, “in case Ben calls. When he does, let us know immediately.”

He hung up. Then, holding Abbie’s arm, he led her toward a chair but she wouldn’t sit down. “Jimmy Hernandez is certain that it was your SUV parked outside the school,” he said, looking concerned. “He recognized the Little League decal on the side window.”

The kitchen was silent as a tomb. Whatever task each worker had been involved in prior to the phone call had been forgotten as all eyes focused on Abbie. Sean hadn’t moved. He still stood in front of Abbie, the glass of water in his hand.

“Jimmy is wrong,” she protested. “My truck has been

right here in the parking lot since I came back from Rose’s house.”

To prove it, she marched out of the kitchen, Brady behind her.

Outside the restaurant, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The Acura was gone.

Thirty_Six

“Oh, God.” Her heart pounding, Abbie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. New images flashed across her mind—a stranger driving her SUV, joining the dozen or more vehicles already parked in front of the school, Ben spotting the truck, waving the way he always did, unsuspecting.

Arms wrapped around her middle, Abbie bent over. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.”

She was barely aware of Brady leading her back inside. “I’m calling John,” he said. “What’s his number?”

She motioned toward the utility room. “His card is in my purse.”

Somehow, while Brady was dialing John’s cell number, Abbie managed to find her address book. Trying to ignore her growing panic, she called every mother she knew, becoming more terrified with every call. No one had seen Ben or given him a ride. Most of the women she talked to assured her they wouldn’t have picked up Ben without being certain Abbie knew about it. While no one mentioned it, the kidnapping of little Eric Sommers, and his ultimate death, was still very fresh in their minds. To put a mother through the nightmare of not knowing where her child was was unthinkable.

Jimmy Hernandez, who had walked out of the classroom with Ben, only repeated what he had already told Tiffany.

Abbie’s SUV had been parked at the curb, a little ahead of the other cars. Whoever had been behind the wheel had honked the horn once, and Ben had shouted a quick goodbye to his friend and rushed toward the waiting truck.

Abbie was about to dial the school’s administrative office when John arrived. He rushed to her, took her hands in his and forced her to look at him.

“Abbie, listen to me. More often than not, reports of missing children turn out to be false alarms. You know how boys are.”