Get Lucky (30 page)

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They checked into the Embassy Suites, and although Greg started to get London her own room, she refused. Jake backed her quickly.

“London doesn’t want, or need, to be alone right now. Get two rooms for now, Dad.” Jake looked at her, the flirt she’d met now completely gone. Either he was behaving in front of his father or Jake was too exhausted to remember he was a player. “I promise to behave,” he added, winking at her, although he looked more harmless than she’d ever seen any man his size ever look.

“I can’t see you ever doing anything behind your brother’s back,” she told him, although if he tried London would kick his ass, no matter how big he was.

Greg signed for the rooms and handed a room card key to her. “You know my boys pretty well. I’ll have to give my son hell for not letting us know about you.”

“We haven’t known each other that long,” she admitted.

“Two weeks for Marc is a long time,” Jake muttered.

“Very true,” Greg agreed.

Her thoughts were torn as they rode the elevator in silence. Greg muttered something about a shower before disappearing into the suite across the hall from theirs. There wasn’t any luggage and Jake paused at the bathroom door when they entered long enough to ask if she needed to use it.

“Go shower.” She waved her hand at him, walking farther into the room.

Standing and staring out the window at the city of Flagstaff, she wondered again if she should be here. Maybe she needed to return to Aspen. It seemed wrong, if not impossible, to twist her brain around, returning to the life she’d been so in love with up until meeting Marc.

He’d not only swept her off her feet but also forced her to take a good look at how she was leading her life. Where once she would have sworn she was making all the right choices and living her life to the fullest, now as she pictured her home and a job where she worked well over forty hours a week, it all seemed empty and meaningless.

She’d told Marc his life wasn’t for her. London didn’t want to think about having a gun in her hand or worrying about when someone would come along and create full chaos in her life. That was until he disappeared. She’d wrapped her fingers around a gun as if she’d done it every day. All the chaos thrown at her she’d stormed through, not giving a thought to losing her own life or what insane monster might be around the next corner. It was all about doing the right thing. Not only did she risk her life, but London also stood in the middle of a hotel room feeling antsy and anxious to hurry out the door and run to where Marc might be. The danger surrounding all of it no longer seemed to matter.

So what happened to change her mind? Was she falling in love with Marc? Or was it something less glamorous and more realistic, like the urge for adventure had been simmering in her blood all along and she’d spent years trying to ignore it?

Her father had beamed with pride once she’d rescued all of them. London wouldn’t have been able to do it without Natasha but her father hadn’t seemed to care when she’d told him that. Jonnie Brooke bragged that she had it in her blood. Her mother had been harder to read. Was it that Ruby never could connect with her daughter? Or possibly Ruby knew how hard her life was, always running and never being able to stay anywhere long enough to lay down roots and make a house into a home. She might not want that for her daughter.

London wasn’t breaking the law when she gripped that gun and rushed into that underground jail cell, though. She knew she was doing the right thing and would do it again in a second. Would she do it again for someone else if they were in trouble? Because that was what Marc did all the time.

Someone knocked on the door and London stared at it, hearing the shower running and knowing Jake would probably be in there awhile. There wasn’t anything to worry about, though. For her, the nightmare was over. Marc was still out there somewhere, but he wouldn’t be knocking on her hotel room door. Nor would whoever had him. She walked to the door calmly, taking time to look through the peephole.

“Natasha is fine,” Haley announced when London opened the door, grinning broadly as she passed London, letting herself into the room. “She’s in stable condition and resting. It will take her a while with physical therapy. She took a bullet in the shoulder. But she’s going to be fine.”

There was enough relief in Haley’s voice to show how much she cared about her niece. London had liked Natasha immediately. The news took a large weight off her shoulders. She could have taken that bullet instead of Natasha.

“That’s such good news.” London grinned at Haley, although she must not have been able to hide the emotional roller coaster she’d been enduring while standing in the room alone.

“We’re going to find Marc,” Haley told her, putting down a couple shopping bags and grabbing London’s arms. Then, without asking, Haley pulled her into a hug. “You’re making yourself nuts pacing in here alone worrying about him. Come on over and hang out with me. Jake paced that cell the entire time he was in there like a caged animal. He’ll shower and probably crash.” Haley let go of London but held her hands in hers. “I bought him some clothes. He won’t want to put the clothes he was wearing back on.”

Haley dumped jeans, socks, boxers, and a T-shirt out of the bag. “I spotted a Large-And-Tall store after leaving the hospital and stopped and grabbed clothes for the men. Fortunately, it was close to a Walmart, and I bought new clothes for me, too. Greg and I thought we were going out to a movie, not being hauled across the state line and dumped in an underground cage. We’ve been in the same clothes for the past couple days,” she told London as she walked to the bathroom door and looked at her, grinning, as if it were all in a day’s work, before opening the bathroom door without knocking and announcing to her son he had clean clothes.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Haley gestured for London to follow her when she walked to the door. “Let’s get to know each other. Natasha had all kinds of good things to say about you.”

“She did?”

London followed Haley into the hallway but stopped when two men paused, looking at the hotel room doors and then at both of them.

“Haley King?” one of the men asked. He wore a brown suit, and his gray hair added to his official appearance.

“Yes,” Haley said. “I’m Haley.”

“I’m Detective Torrance. This is Detective Murray. We’d like to speak to you and your husband if you have a minute?”

“Yes,” Haley said, sounding excited. “Of course.” She hurried to her hotel room door and fumbled with her card key until she opened the door. “Greg is in the shower, but please, come in. Do you have news of Marc?” she demanded the moment the door was closed.

The detectives entered the room and London brought up the rear, her stomach twisting in knots. Detectives didn’t show up at someone’s door with good news. Haley seemed so excited to see them and faced them now, her eyes wide and her expression flushed as she stared at the two men expectantly. She didn’t look as if she expected them to give her bad news.

“Ma’am,” Detective Torrance began, glancing around the hotel room that looked just like London’s except everything was opposite. “We were down at Canyon Diablo this morning.” He glanced at London. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to introduce ourselves.”

Haley took the hint. “This is London Brooke. She’s Marc’s girlfriend. And I’m Marc’s mother. His father, Greg King, is in the shower. I’ll introduce you as soon as he comes out.”

The detective nodded. “We’ve also been over to the hospital and have interviewed Claude VanCooper. Natasha King didn’t have a lot to share with us, but she was also very tired. We’ll visit with her further when she is feeling better.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very willing to speak with you once she’s recuperated more,” Haley said, gesturing to the round table in the kitchenette part of the suite. “Please come sit down. I just came from the hospital myself or I’d have coffee made, but it won’t take but a minute.” She hurried around the table, patting the backs of the chairs indicating that they all sit, before moving to the small counter and sink in the corner of the suite. “Please, tell us why you’re here,” she insisted, filling the small coffeepot with water and ripping open a package of coffee.

“Claude VanCooper told us about a car that was hidden half a mile from the facility under Canyon Diablo.” Torrance sat at one of the chairs and pulled out a small spiral notebook that he flipped open so he could refer to his notes. “He informed us it was a green Honda Civic that he remembered being an early-2000s model.”

London slid into the seat opposite the detective, staring at his stern expression as he referred to his notebook. She wanted to yell at him, demand he say why he was here. If he had news of Marc, she’d waited long enough to hear it.

“We investigated his allegations and found a ramp that had little to no dirt or snow on it, as if it had recently been raised from the ground.”

“Does this have something to do with Marc?” Haley demanded, obviously as anxious to know the truth as London was.

Torrance held his hand up. “We’re not sure, ma’am. After investigating the ramp, we established that it did lower into the ground and could have held a car and kept it hidden from view.”

“So Marc took the car and escaped?” London asked.

“We’re not sure,” Torrance said again. “There is still a lot we don’t know yet. It takes time to piece an investigation like this together. And this one is a doozy; I don’t have to tell either of you that.”

Haley sighed, coming to the table. “You’re right. And I do know that all too well. So we now know how Marc got away. But how would he have found that car? It was under the ground a mile from the facility? Do you think Evelyn VanCooper took him to the car?”

“We don’t know yet,” Torrance said, changing the variation of his answer but not its meaning. “Before we left the hospital we got a call from highway patrol. We’d already put out an APB on the green Honda, which we also knew was registered in the state of New York.”

“Highway patrol?” Haley pressed, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. She looked ready to leap over the table and grab the detective so he’d spill what he knew faster.

“A late-model green Honda with New York tags was found out on Interstate Seventeen.” He paused, looking over his notes.

Haley jumped from her seat. London couldn’t stay seated, either. What were the odds? Sure, Hondas were a dime a dozen, but one with New York tags in Arizona? How many could there be?

“A man was in the car. Apparently he had pulled over and passed out,” Torrance said, not looking up but staring at his notebook. “There wasn’t any identification on the man, but the reports state he was covered with blood.”

“Oh my God,” London gasped, covering her hands over her mouth.

Haley was around the table, putting her arms around London. “Where is he now? Do you have pictures? I can identify my son.”

Detective Murray leaned back, reaching inside his suit and pulling out a manila folder. London had a flashback to the large envelopes that were delivered to her house with pictures of her parents in them as she stared at the envelope in the detective’s hand.

“I need to warn you,” Detective Murray said, his voice very soft-spoken as he glanced from Haley to London.

“You might be surprised at some of the pictures I’ve seen,” Haley assured him, stepping forward. “Not to mention what I’ve seen in real life.”

“It’s often different when you’re staring at someone you know,” Detective Torrance said.

“Or someone you’re related to,” Murray added.

“Show me the pictures.” The sudden stern edge in Haley’s voice was enough.

Detective Murray slid eight-by-tens out of the envelope. These weren’t glossy, colored shots. They were black and white and looked as if they’d been faxed or sent via the computer somehow. They were printed on regular typing paper.

Haley blocked London’s view. Either intentional or not, London wasn’t sure. But Haley picked up one of the shots, then another. After staring at them for only a moment, she dropped them on the table, letting them fall as she almost ran to the bathroom, yelling for her husband.

“Greg! Greg!” she demanded, opening the door and flying into the bathroom. She was out of view but easily heard. “They’ve found Marc. Get out here. They know where he is.”

Greg King appeared immediately, his tall, large frame filling the bathroom doorway before he stepped into the hotel room, giving each detective an intense once-over before moving toward them. He wore dark blue new-looking jeans, probably the pair Haley had bought for him before returning from the hospital. He still held a white towel, and water beaded across his bare chest as he approached, barefoot and solemn.

“Detectives,” he said quietly, using the towel to dry his hand and then extending it to shake hands with both men.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. King.” Detective Torrance was probably a good ten years older than Greg but seemed in awe when the large man shook his hand. “I regret it’s under such circumstances.”

After shaking hands with both detectives, Greg picked up one of the pictures Haley had tossed on the table. He looked at it for a second, his expression hardening as he stared over it at the detectives.

“Is my boy alive?” he demanded.

“He’s been flown to Phoenix Baptist Hospital,” Torrance said, once again looking at his notebook. “The car was about twenty miles outside of Phoenix.”