Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,42
The police had removed all those computers after she’d disappeared. Maybe that should’ve clued her in that Abby’s disappearance had a sinister aspect to it.
This was the kind of stuff J.D. would want to hear about—Jared Douglas. He’d done a good job making excuses for his lies. How much of what he said and did was faked?
His touches? His kiss?
She turned off the shower without washing her hair, patting the damp bandage in place. Grabbing a towel from the rack, she stepped out of the tub and rubbed a circle in the condensation in the mirror.
Abby’s computers... Surely the D.C. police had turned those over to J.D.’s agency. His agency probably ordered the police to remove them. Abby spent a lot of time on her computers.
Her cell phone buzzed against the porcelain, and she snatched it before it vibrated into the toilet.
She swiped the phone against the towel and glanced at the display—a text message from another unknown number. Her heart picked up speed and blood throbbed against her stitches.
Had Ted picked up his new phone?
Her thumb trembled as she hit the button to read the text. She read the words, blinked her eyes and read them again: We have your brother.
Chapter Twelve
Noelle grabbed on to the sides of the vanity and lowered herself to the edge of the tub. She miscalculated and slipped to the floor.
It was a joke. It had to be a joke.
“J.D.” She thought she’d whispered his name, but her scream echoed in the small, steamy bathroom.
His footsteps pounded down the hallway, and he threw open the door. “What’s wrong? Did you fall?”
He knelt before her, grabbing the towel puddled on the floor and draping it over her naked body.
Her teeth chattered as she held out her phone toward him. “They have Ted.”
“What?” He plucked the cell from her hand and brought it close to his face. He cursed and then hugged the towel around her body. “You’re shaking. Let’s get you out of here. Do you have a bathrobe?”
“They have Ted.”
“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t, but freezing in the bathroom is not going to help his situation.”
She pointed to her pink terry-cloth bathrobe hanging on a hook on the bathroom door.
J.D. stood up, still grasping her phone, and yanked the robe from the hook. He walked back toward her, holding the robe open in front of him. “Can you stand up?”
“I’m okay.” She wedged her back against the side of the tub and pushed to her feet. Her knees wobbled as she clutched the towel to her chest.
J.D. folded her robe around her, and she struggled to fit her arms through the sleeves. With his arm around her shoulders, he led her from the bathroom back to the living room, where the fire still crackled. He shoved the love seat around to face the fire and nudged her onto the cushion.
“Do you know how to reach Ted?” J.D. sat beside her and stilled her fidgeting fingers with his hand.
“He was supposed to get a temporary cell phone and call me, but he never did. I didn’t even get the names of the people he was crashing with at the Buck Ridge Lodge.”
“What about Pierpont? Do you think he saw him up there?”
“I have no idea.” She covered her face with her hands. “It’s my fault. I should’ve let him stay here that night.”
“If it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine for not warning you sooner. I have one way to solve this.” He tossed her phone in the air and caught it. “Text them back.”
“R-really?”
“Pretend you don’t know what they want. That seems like the safest bet right now. Anyone receiving a message like that would want to know what was happening.”
“Y-you want me to contact them?” She drew back from the phone cradled in his palm.
“Do you want to see your brother again?”
She flinched. This was real, just like that gunshot in the gallery. Nodding, she pinched the phone between two fingers as though she were handling a poisonous insect.
“Should I call or text?” She held her breath, waiting for the answer she wanted to hear.
“Do you really want to send texts back and forth with these people? Do you want them to misconstrue anything you have to say? Call.”
That was not the answer she wanted. “What if they don’t pick up?”
“Then text, but you need to make the effort. Put yourself in the shoes of someone who knows nothing of the threats against her. Wouldn’t you want to call to find out what they