Taken by Tuesday (Weekday Brides Series) (26 page)

Worry punched her gut harder when with a face full of soot, Rick found them and dropped beside her on the curb. “I made it as far as the second floor.” He coughed. “Too much smoke.”

They all stared at the building, praying that Judy would walk out of it, or up to them and ask what they were all worried about.

Only she never came.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Every high is followed by a hangover. The only hangovers Judy had ever experienced were the alcohol-induced stunners nearly every college student experiences somewhere in their four years at school.

So when she woke, and her head split in two the moment her eyes opened, she identified the roll of her stomach and the cotton lodged in her throat with a groan. She attempted to ball into a fetal position and remember the night before, but found her hands bound by a rope on each side of her body.

She blinked a few times, tried to focus. Stone floor, rusted old machines she couldn’t immediately identify. The sound of a blower forcing air into a shaft filled the otherwise silent room. No windows . . . no doors that she could see, and only a few bare lights that looked like they’d wink out at the first opportunity.

She shook her cloudy head, tried to focus on the bare bulb above.

He’d waved a needle at her, laughed, and for a brief moment, she thought she was dreaming, then there was nothing.

“Oh, God.” Moving her head took serious effort, bringing pain from cramped muscles. She pulled against the rope holding her, felt her own fatigue. She was still clothed, though the cold depth of the floor was seeping into her bones and making her shake.

Or maybe that was pure fear.

The doubled lines of everything around her started to focus. Judy didn’t see him at first, thought maybe he’d left her there.

The hope of that quickly faded as he stepped from the shadows wearing a full set of military fatigues, complete with boots, face painted to blend in with the dank quarters.

Through the black and gray makeup, his sneer met a gleam in his eye.

She pushed her body back from him, noticed her feet weren’t bound, giving her some mobility.

Slow, steady steps brought him to her. He knelt just out of reach of her legs. “Nice of you to wake, General.”

“Let me go.”

He laughed. “After all the effort I’ve taken to get you here? I don’t think so.”

He looked nothing like the awkward twentysomething that brought special deliveries to their office. There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty on his face, or in the way he held himself on the balls of his feet.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

He blinked a couple of times, as if the question confused him. “Capture the enemy. Much better than just destroying them.” Without words, he stood again, retreated to the corner of the room, back in the shadows, and just watched her.

Whatever his plan was, he wasn’t rushing it. He acted as if he had all the time in the world.

She looked around the room again, didn’t recognize any of it. She thought of her father’s hardware store, the plumbing aisle filled with valves and pipes. Only the pipes she saw weren’t from anything in the last twenty years. A boiler, maybe . . . which would mean they were in a basement of something. From the size of the room, the height of the ceiling, she thought it might be a large apartment complex.

She shivered, wondered if anyone above knew a psychopath lurked beneath.

Her pasty lips stuck together when she attempted to find moisture. She’d never directly dealt with someone who was clearly twisted, wasn’t sure if she could talk sense into him or not.

His dark eyes watched from the shadows, unnerving her. Perhaps that was his goal?

“Mitch?” She attempted to use his name. “It is Mitch, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

The next breath she pulled in made her shiver. The room was cold and an occasional draft blew in from behind her.

“I’m not your enemy.”

Silence.

Then she heard a squeak from the corner of the room followed by something with tiny legs running.

Rats.

Things like that never really bothered her . . . not in a girlie,
squeal and jump away
kind of way. But she was half-lying on a cold floor without a way to escape the things.

From the corner, Mitch started to laugh, and Judy knew her lack of concern for rats was about to change.

It was past ten. Judy was officially missing.

Didn’t bother Rick in the least that he paced like a caged animal outside the office building while arson detectives did their job. The only injured people in the building were from the floor where the first bomb exploded. No doubt now it was set . . . along with smoke bombs placed in various parts of the building.

The whole thing was a diversion . . . a distraction to remove Judy. He knew it the moment he heard about the blast. Now it was confirmed.

In a van parked beside that of the media who’d finished their live shots for the late news, sat Russell and Dennis, who were searching the feeds generated from the office before the explosion.

The first sign of Detectives Raskin and Perozo resulted in Neil holding Rick back as they approached.

“You son of a bitch. Spent all your time on the wrong guy and now she’s missing.”

Raskin held up his hand. “Everyone is looking for her.”

The hell. Like that’s enough!

Dean stepped in and pulled the detectives out of the way.

From the van, Russell called Rick over. “What do you have?”

“This is the last few minutes before the explosion.”

They’d seen it before, but it didn’t have sound.

Judy stood with her back to the camera, bent over her desk.

A kid, midtwenties at best, filled the cubicle doorway. “
Miss Gardner?
” The sound was muffled.

“Can you turn that up?”

Russell upped the volume.

“I have a delivery for Mr. Archer.”
The kid had a box in his hand. Looked away for a moment and then back again.

“He’s gone today. I’ll take it for him.”
Nothing looked out of the ordinary with the exchange.

“What happened?”
Judy’s sweet voice stroked Rick’s heart.

The kid jumped back, pushed his hand behind him. Nervous.
He’s anxious.

Rick peered closer . . . watched Judy leave her cubicle with the package while the kid promised to come back to have her sign for the package.

“I don’t see much here, Russell.”

“Wait.”

The footage was void of anything, and within seconds the explosion was heard and screams of people reacting to it filled the footage. Strobe lights and fire alarms blared.

Mitch moved into the frame as he passed the people running toward the stairs. Judy wasn’t seen in the mass exit. Neither was the kid.

Rick clenched his fists. “Rewind that to get a clear shot of this guy.”

“Got it.”

Rick sent a whistle in the air and captured Michael’s attention. He motioned the man over, pointed at the image on the screen. “Ever see this guy when you’ve visited Judy?”

He shook his head. “Can’t tell you.” Michael turned around, waved to a few people he had been standing next to.

Rick recognized Judy’s boss. Debra Miller sat huddled under someone’s oversize coat.

Michael directed the woman’s attention to the screen. “Do you know this guy?”

Debra looked closer. “A courier. I think. Delivers stuff but doesn’t work for us.”

“Know his name?”

She shrugged. “My secretary handles deliveries.”

Much as Rick hated to bring in Raskin and Perozo . . . they had an entire police force to tap into where he and Neil didn’t. “Dean?” Rick called his friend over. “I need to know who this guy is.”

Dean stood beside Raskin and Perozo as they watched the footage.

“He doesn’t leave the building.” Dean stated the very observation the rest of them had made.

“Neither does Judy.”

If I show fear, he’ll exploit it.
That was obvious when he’d spread peanut-butter-covered bread close to her . . . taking great pleasure in smearing the sticky stuff above her knee. Why had she picked a skirt today?

She couldn’t determine the time, but her stomach growled and her eyes were having a hard time staying open. If not for the fear of closing them, and the need to pee, she would be asleep already.

The first rat took the peanut butter offering, bringing her wide awake in a heartbeat. Her back stiffened against the old metal box she was propped up against. From the corner, she watched Mitch eating the bread as if it were popcorn.

She shoved the rat away with her foot, and found another one willing to come in close for the food. Her first scream moved them along . . . but the second didn’t do much other than make them pause before finding the food.

Her eyes locked on the four foot-long varmints fighting over the food when she felt something brush against her hand. It jumped, landed on her lap, and Judy lost it.

The rat squealed, its tiny feet clawed into her bare thigh. Her screams didn’t stop the tiny beast as it scented the food and ran in circles. A flash of light blinded her.

The bastard was taking pictures of her.

Only with the bright light, the rats scurried into the dark.

“Priceless,” Mitch managed.

Judy kept screaming. Someone had to be nearby . . . someone would hear her.

Mitch lifted his voice to match hers. Yelled the word
help
at the top of his voice.

“Do you think I’m that stupid, General? I assure you, I’m not.” He advanced then, dropped his hands to her ankles, which were covered by her long boots, and kept her from kicking him. With a free hand, he covered the peanut butter and smeared it up her thigh.

She couldn’t stop the few tears that spilled, but she didn’t cry out when he pinched her by squeezing her bare skin.

“It was only a game,” she told him.

His hand slid higher, his face grew dark.

Judy forced her eyes to his, clenched her back teeth together, refusing to respond.

“Is this a game, General?” Higher he went.

He loved her tension . . . enjoyed her pain.

Judy sucked in a deep breath and willed her limbs to relax. She even forced a smile past her drying tears.

His eyes searched hers and he shoved his hands between her thighs.

She squeezed her toes inside her boots and never stopped staring at his dark eyes, didn’t let him see her fear.

He jerked away, his hand leaving her only to rap his fist against her jaw. She went with the punch just as Rick had told her to. The taste of blood trickled in her mouth.

Instead of provoking another punch, she kept her eyes to the side of the room.

Mitch stood and moved back to his corner.