Feel the Heat (29 page)

She dropped the card next to the phone and looked around the room some more. Set at an angle in the corner was an ornately carved secretary with a laptop and a small printer. Eagerly she opened the computer and turned it on, wondering if there was the remotest possibility that she had internet access.

Probably not, but I can hope, right?

Immediately a small wheel spun in the center, eventually opening to a preloaded video. Kurt Olberman’s arrogant face looked out at her.

“Hello, Miss Cahill. I have provided this computer, along with other electronic devices and items of entertainment, to give you a wide choice of diversions. Do you like computer games? I had several installed for you. There are many programs on here you can work with but, alas, not an internet connection. Of course. Can’t have you contacting the world to let them in on our little secret, right? You will have dinner with me every day to give me the opportunity to know you better and discover more about your gift. After time has passed, you will see that I have arranged for a wonderful life here for you. There is nothing for you to do except use your gift when necessary. I hope you are settling in comfortably.”

The video faded, replaced by a screen filled with icons.

Lauren wanted to pick it up and throw it through a window, but that would accomplish nothing.

A door in one wall opened to a type of closet. But this one had a built-in refrigerator and freezer, as well as shelves stocked with every kind of snack. If nothing else he expected her to be well-fed.

The bedroom had more revelations. A walk-in closet was filled with clothing in her size, like the drawers containing lingerie and sleepwear. The bathroom, which had both a tub and large shower stall, yielded enough cosmetics to fill a small store.

Lauren sat down on the vanity bench and dropped her head into her hands. This had been no sudden move on Olberman’s part. He’d researched her, studied her and put into motion a plan that he had the resources to execute. He’d brought her here and obviously expected her to live here for—how long? Until she was of no further use to him? Or maybe until she was dead? The hopelessness of her situation smacked her in the face and she gave in to the tears she’d been forcing back.

Please, Troy. Please find me. Soon.

Chapter Fourteen

“Want to bet that these names will lead us nowhere?”

Troy slammed the door of the car and cranked the ignition.

“We got as much as we expected,” Rick reminded him. “The cars in both places were paid for with corporate credit cards and the drivers had to show their licenses.”

“Which will be phony,” Troy growled, backing out of the parking space.

“You wouldn’t expect someone running this kind of operation would be sloppy enough to use real names. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, Troy.”

“I know, I know.”

“We got exactly what we expected. A place to start.” Rick was punching buttons on his phone. “I’m sending all of this to Andy and telling him to start Dragonslayer on it right away. He’ll be able to dig through the layers.”

Troy grunted. “I just hope he digs at the speed of light.” He wanted to hit something. “Sorry. I can’t seem to get my shit together here. I’m so damn scared that we won’t find Lauren alive.”

“We will. We’ve had bigger challenges than this before.”

Troy was aware of that. But only once before had the mission been personal. That was when the team had rescued Mark, but they had better intel and could make better plans. Right now they had
no
intel and putting the pieces together was driving him nuts. He had the sickening feeling that every moment it took them to solve this puzzle was a moment closer to the ultimate danger for Lauren.

No. I won’t think that.

They were almost back at the house when Rick’s phone signaled.

“What’s up? Yeah?” Troy heard the tenor of the man’s voice change. “Hold on a second. You can tell both of us.” He placed his phone on the console between them and pressed the speaker button.

“Troy? This is Dan. I think you need to go back to the hospital and talk to the Hausers again.”

Troy banged his fist on the steering wheel. “I knew it. My neck doesn’t itch for nothing. What did Andy come up with?”

“A shitload of medical expenses, which we already knew about. But the day after Lauren healed Clark Hauser a suspiciously large deposit showed up in their bank account.”

“Could he tell where the check came from?” Rick wanted to know?

“He says it’s a cashier’s check, but he was able to read the purchaser’s name from the image of the check. Something called Foundation for Better Health.”

Troy made a rude noise. “Which I’m guessing doesn’t exist.”

“Got it in one. But don’t worry. Andy’s already digging through the multiple layers of security. Still, you need to pressure the Hausers. Lauren’s name didn’t just drop on them from some anonymous source.”

“Agreed.” Mark’s voice. “Troy, you said Gayle Hauser seemed especially nervous today. You need to pressure her.”

“Don’t worry,” Troy growled. “I intend to.”

In less than half an hour, they were back at the hospital and in Clark Hauser’s room. Gayle stood up so suddenly the small chair she’d been occupying crashed over backward.

“What—what are you doing back here?”

“What’s the matter?” Clark demanded at the same time, raising the head of his bed a little more.

“Why are you coming in here when Clark’s just barely on the road to recovery and acting this way?” Gayle dry washed her hands. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop lying to us,” Troy snapped.

“I’ve got this.” Rick nudged him back a little and moved closer to the woman, taking one of her trembling hands in his. “Please. Sit down. I don’t want to frighten you but we have a problem here.” He eased her back into the chair.

“A—a problem?”

Rick pulled the other chair closer and sat down then took her hands in his again.

“Yes. The woman who helped you, Lauren Cahill. She’s in some trouble.”

Gayle blinked at the tears filling her eyes. Her face had gone paper-white. “Trouble? What kind of trouble?” She looked down at her hands as if unable to meet Rick’s direct gaze.

“She’s disappeared,” Rick told her in a quiet voice. “We think she’s been kidnapped.”

“Disappeared? Oh my goodness. I am so sorry.”

The woman swayed slightly in her chair. Rick grabbed her arms to steady her. At the same time, Troy, who realized the thing they were about to find out was that this couple were unwitting dupes, poured a cup of water and handed it to her.

“Are you saying she’s been taken?” Clark’s voice was still weakened by his illness.

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Troy told him. “Now do you see why it’s important for you to tell us how you came to contact her?”

“But what makes you think her disappearance is tied to us?”

Troy shoved his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists as he forced control on himself. “It may not be, but don’t you think it’s an odd coincidence that Lauren heals Clark here and a few days later someone kidnaps her?”

“I heard she had a stalker,” Clark said, looking nearly as pale as his wife. He clutched his bed covers to his body. Panic flashed in his eyes. “Maybe he took her.”

“He’s out of business. Not even in play here.” Rick tilted his head and forced Gayle Hauser to look directly at him. “We can’t force you to tell us anything, but keep in mind her life may be in danger here.”

Troy couldn’t help himself. He took a step toward the bed. “It’s a strange coincidence that one day you owe more in medical bills than you’ll ever be able to pay, then Lauren comes and heals Clark here, and the next day half a million dollars shows up in your bank account. If you were me, wouldn’t you think that was a strange coincidence?”

He hadn’t meant his voice to sound so rough and accusatory, but panic for Lauren had him way out of his usual comfort zone. He was glad Rick still had hold of Gayle Hauser’s hands, because for a moment he thought she was going to topple off the chair in a dead faint.

“Take a deep breath,” Rick told her. “That’s right. Deep and slow. Clark?” He looked at the husband. “You too. It won’t do anyone any good if the two of you fall apart.”

They all waited for a moment, Clark’s face etched with concern for his wife. Finally she nodded.

“I just knew there had to be something wrong.” She pulled a tissue from the box on the bedside table and wiped her eyes. “Clark always said when something looks too good to be true, it usually is. Right, honey?”

He nodded, then reached out a hand toward her. She gripped it, as if drawing strength from him, pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You have to understand,” she began. “Clark was so sick and every doctor had given up on him. Nothing they tried worked and he just was going steadily downhill. I was so frightened. And the bills. Oh lord. Our health insurance had reached its limit and I had no idea where I was going to get the money to pay them. I was afraid even if Clark got well, we’d lose our home.” Her voice rose. “Lose everything. Can’t you just put yourselves in my place?”

“It’s okay.” Rick nodded encouragingly. “I understand. Just tell us the rest of it.”

Troy wandered over to the window and leaned against the sill. It was better for him to put some distance between himself and the Hausers while they told their story. He knew his feelings were generated by fear, but he wanted to shake Gayle Hauser. To tell her to put herself in
his
place. Or worse yet, Lauren’s place. The terror he felt for her nearly strangled him.

“I got a call from a man, someone I’d never met before, who told me he knew someone who could help us.” She repeated everything to them, every detail of the phone calls and the meetings. “So you can see why I jumped at it, right?” she pleaded.

“You said they called you on your cell phone.” Rick kept his voice low and even. “How did they get the number?”

Gayle drew back in shock. “I never even thought about that. I guess I was just so desperate that I forgot to ask the right questions.”

“It’s okay,” Rick assured her. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. We’ll just go on from here.”

Troy let Rick handle all the questioning. He was too distraught to keep himself under control. Every few seconds, he checked his cell to see if someone at the house had texted him new information. He forced himself not to text any of his partners at the house and see what, if any, further progress had been made. They had enough to do. If they discovered something, they’d let him know soon enough. But the damn waiting was killing him.

Finally, Rick stood up, placing his chair back in its usual place. Gayle Hauser rose with him.

“I am just so sorry about all this,” she began.

Rick held up a hand. “Not your fault.”

“But if she’d been truthful with Miss Cahill from the beginning,” Clark broke in, “or earlier when you were here, there wouldn’t have been any time wasted. We can see that now. We just didn’t expect anything like this.”

Troy wanted to ask him what did they expect when a strange man approached them with such a convoluted proposition.

“We’ll just go on from here.” Rick motioned for Troy to follow him as he headed for the door.

“You’ll let us know when you find her?” Gayle Hauser’s voice was taut with anxiety.

“Yes. We will.”

If
we find her, Troy thought, his gut churning.

* * * * *

Lauren made no effort to change clothes for dinner, despite the extravagant wardrobe Olberman had filled the closet with. When Reid came to get her at seven o’clock she was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt she’d put on that morning. He frowned as his gaze raked over her.

“Mr. Olberman does not like casual clothing for dinner.” His words could have been icicles dropping from the roof. “I’ll wait while you change. I think you don’t want to do anything to upset Mr. Olberman. Others might feel the consequences.”

By others, she was sure he meant her family, and panic stabbed her for a moment.

Play along,
she reminded herself.
Do what you have to in order to survive, watch for opportunities and pray that Troy finds me soon.

Finally, she nodded.

Reid looked at his watch. “Five minutes. I’ll be here waiting.”

Shaking with a combination of fear and anger, she pulled a pair of black crepe cocktail slacks from the closet and paired them with a white satin blouse that wrapped around her and tied at the waist. The strappy black sandals fit her feet exactly and she wondered again how the man had known her exact sizes for everything.

In a basket on the bathroom vanity, she found an array of gold hair clips. She gathered her hair on top of her head and fastened them with a clip shaped like a butterfly. When Reid knocked again she pulled in a deep breath to calm herself and opened the door. He studied her appearance and she felt a tiny bit of satisfaction at the spark of appreciation in his eyes, even though it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

“This way.” He led her to the elevator and pressed the button.

Olberman was waiting for her in the dining room, standing at one end of a table she was sure could easily seat thirty people. The cherrywood was polished to a high-gloss and three antique silver candelabras broke up the vast expanse of the surface. Light from the myriad prisms in the chandelier overhead reflected in the delicate shape of the fine crystal at each place setting. The opulence was more nauseating to her than impressive, because she was sure the money that paid for it had come from other people’s misery.

“You look very regal, Miss Cahill. I’m delighted to see you’re availing yourself of the wardrobe selected for you.”

His tone was formal but something flashed in his eyes that made her uneasy. Was she going to have to fend off his advances as well? But the look disappeared as he held out the chair for her.

“Reid informed me that my own clothing would be inappropriate for the evening.” She put as much sarcasm into the words as she could, working hard to hide the fact that he and his plans terrified her.