Secure Location

chapter Nineteen

Meg’s mind scrambled to make sense of it. “What do you want?”

The man didn’t answer. Just pointed her toward the stairs.

She went. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It was all she could think of. Cruz would be so damn disappointed in her. He was so smart, so careful and she’d been so careless.

What would he tell her to do now?

Stay alert. Figure out who he is and what he wants. Be smart. She could practically feel heat coming off the sapphire necklace, burning her skin.

They reached the landing at the bottom. She looked up, hoping the camera would catch a good view of her face. It had been knocked down. “What do you want?” she asked again.

“Shut up,” he said. He poked her in the back with his gun. “My car is twenty feet from this door. Walk directly to it and get in the driver’s side. Don’t be stupid.”

It was a blue four-door with tinted windows. When she opened the door, the smell of smoke rolled out at her. It made her want to throw up. She swallowed hard and got in. He slid into the backseat. He tossed the keys over the seat, into her lap and pressed the gun against her neck.

“Drive. Turn left onto Bridge Street.”

Her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t get the key into the ignition. She took a deep breath and was immediately sorry when the horrible smell traveled farther into her lungs.

She finally got the car started and pulled out of the lot. They drove for fifteen minutes, turning this way and that on busy city streets. She tried to keep track of where she was but it was an area of the city that she wasn’t familiar with. Finally, he directed her to turn onto a street where the apartment buildings were close together and run-down. “Right there,” he said, pointing to an empty parking spot.

It was a tight fit, even for the small car. She put the vehicle in Park and shut off the engine. It was stone-quiet in the car. And the oppressive heat from outside seeped in.

She could hear him pulling off his face mask. “Get out,” he said. “We’re going into that building,” he said, pointing at a six-story structure that had several broken-out windows.

The front door of the building looked as if someone had tried to kick it in. It was dented and beat up and didn’t close quite right. She opened it and he pushed her toward the stairs. “Keep walking,” he said. On the fourth floor, he yanked her back and pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. He unlocked the door and they stepped inside a small, filthy apartment. There were dirty dishes, empty food boxes and trash everywhere. It smelled like cat urine. There was a table in the middle of the kitchen, long and narrow, with a wood top that was scratched and pitted. On it were guns, probably half a dozen, all in some half-state of assembly. There was a can of gun oil and dirty rags.

She turned to look at him. He was only a couple inches taller than her and had a slim build. He wore dirty army fatigues.

His hair was bleached blond and touched his shoulders. He had a straggly blond mustache. While there was little resemblance to the man she’d known, who had worn his dark hair and beard trimmed short and always had a pressed uniform, there was no doubt. He was Troy Blakely.

All this time, Cruz had been on the right track.

And with his hair blond and more of his bone structure visible, she saw something else that she recognized.

Her world started to go gray and she grabbed for the table behind her.

“It’s been a long time, Meg,” he said.

A very long time. “Hello, T.J.”

* * *

CRUZ BEACHED HIS CAR in the valet parking, ignoring the yells from the startled valets. He ran into the hotel, through the lobby, toward Meg’s office.

Tim Burtiss stood. “I didn’t know you were back, sir.”

“Where’s Meg?” Cruz asked.

“Mr. Slater’s office,” Tim answered.

Cruz took off running again, taking the steps to the third floor two at a time. When he got to Slater’s office, the receptionist wasn’t at her desk. He opened the inner-office door and Slater looked up from his desk.

“Where’s Meg?” Cruz asked.

“Get out,” Slater said.

“Where is she?” Cruz asked.

Slater shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. I haven’t talked to her all morning.”

Cruz got a very bad feeling. “Come with me,” he said. “Something is not right.”

To Slater’s credit, he didn’t argue. Just hurried down the hall with Cruz. When they got back to Meg’s office, Officer Burtiss stood again.

“Is Meg back?” Cruz asked hopefully.

“No, sir. Neither she nor Charlotte have returned.”

They were both missing? What the hell did Charlotte have to do with this?

Cruz opened the door. He searched Charlotte’s work area first. The light was on, as was her computer and there was a cup of coffee on her desk. Cruz felt the cup. Still warm.

He moved into Meg’s office. There was a yellow legal pad on her desk, filled with pages of notes. He glanced at them. Some kind of customer complaint. He pointed at the name. “See if this guest is still here,” he instructed Slater. Was it possible that Meg had simply left to personally resolve a problem?

While Slater was on the phone, Cruz kept looking. He saw the crumpled up note in Meg’s garbage and unfolded it. He read it.

Slater ended his call. “They checked out two days ago.”

Cruz showed the note to Slater. “You didn’t talk to Charlotte this morning?”

“No. What the hell is going on here?”

Cruz looked at Meg’s phone. He saw the voice mail light blinking and realized it was probably his frantic message. “I don’t know. But we need to find both of them.” He pulled out his cell phone to call Myers and fill him in. Before he dialed, he continued his instructions. “The police will be here soon. Get your security staff started on searching the hotel. Tell them to hurry.”

* * *

“T.J.,” SHE SAID, working hard to keep her voice steady. She did not want him to know that her sudden knowledge had her insides twisting up in a painful knot.

He ran a hand through his long hair. “I hated having to cut my hair for that stupid job. And the beard itched like hell. But nobody would have ever known it. Because I was nice. Officer Friendly, that was me.” He laughed at his own joke. “Yes, Ms. Montoya. No, Ms. Montoya. Whatever you want, Ms. Montoya.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” she said, staring at his light brown eyes. Without the glasses and the blue eyes, it was easier to recognize him.

He laughed again. It was almost a cackle and it made him sound crazy. “Blue contacts. Weren’t they fabulous? I’ll bet you are sorry. I watched you every day and you had no idea.”

“How did you find me?”

“I went through my mother’s filing cabinet after she and my stepfather died. She had a copy of your wedding announcement. Once I had your married name, it wasn’t hard to find you, although I never expected you to be in Texas.”

He sprawled onto the dirty couch and motioned for her to sit in the lone straight-backed kitchen chair. “You’re some kind of big shot. You get your picture in the paper and everything.” He tilted his head down. “You know why you help convicts, Meg? Because you almost were one. They should have sent you to jail for what you did.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I’m sorry you lost your job at the hotel,” she said, searching for some way to turn him. “I could talk with our human resources manager and you could get it back. Start fresh.”

“I already told you it was a crappy job.” He got up and started to pace around her.

Okay. That probably wasn’t the right tactic. “How are your parents?” she asked.

He stopped suddenly. “My mommy is dead,” he said, as if he was five years old.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “I’m sorry to hear that, T.J.”

“Don’t call me that,” he yelled, lunging at her. He got so close that his spit hit her face. “You ruined everything. We lost everything because of you.”

“I was fifteen,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Now, you’re going to pay.” He kicked her chair, hard enough that it pushed her backward. “You sit right there,” he said. “Don’t move.”

She did as he instructed. And she took deep breaths, trying to quiet her racing heart. Be smart. Be smarter than he is.

“Everybody loves Meg,” he said, in a singsong voice. “Even my own Nana. She tried to warn you. Said I was wrong to hate so much.” He gave her a big smile. “A couple days ago I gave her a taste of what would happen if she didn’t keep her mouth shut. Made sure she told the doctor she fell down the steps. Old ladies and broken hips don’t do so well together.”

She remembered Grandma Percy. She’d been the only Percy to offer any comfort to Meg. Had seemed to understand that Meg was as devastated as a person could be and still be standing. She’d been kind. And she’d doted on T.J.

Tried to warn you. It had to have been her that had come to Meg’s office. And he’d hurt her.

She wanted to strike out, to punch him as hard as she could, but she thought of her baby and kept her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

* * *

DETECTIVE MYERS BROUGHT a whole team to search the hotel. It paid off because they found Charlotte tied up, with duct tape across her mouth, in the fourth-floor janitor closet.

They peeled off the tape and she started spewing.

“He made me write the note. Said that he would kill me if I didn’t. Said he would kill my mother, too.”

“Who?” Cruz demanded.

“That crazy guy who used to work in security. He looked different but I recognized him. Blakely. Troy Blakely. Is Meg okay?”

Cruz couldn’t answer.

“We don’t know,” Detective Myers said.

“I’m sorry. He told me what I had to write on the note and then watched me as I slid it under the door. Then we went out the side door and came up here. He opened the door, told me to come inside and tied me up. I tried screaming and that’s when he put the duct tape over my mouth.”

Myers looked at Cruz. “We’ll find him.”

“You better find her fast,” Charlotte said, looking at Slater. “She’s pregnant.”

Cruz felt like he’d taken a punch in the stomach. He balled up his fist and turned toward Slater.

Slater held up his hand. “We never had that kind of relationship. Look, Meg doesn’t love me. She made that perfectly clear just last night. We’re not together. We’ve never been together and we never will be. She’s still in love with you.”

Cruz’s legs felt weak. He grabbed hold of a shelf to steady himself. Slater might be a jerk but he had always cared for Meg. He wouldn’t lie about something like this. And while his brain was processing that, it was also snapping with the realization that he and Meg had had exactly that kind of relationship. About a month ago. Holy hell.

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. She reached out for Slater’s hand. “I thought it was your baby. I hated her for that.” She turned to look at Cruz. “But I never would have hurt her.”

Cruz waved away the explanation. “How do you know she’s pregnant?”

The woman’s fair face turned pink. “I took my mother to the doctor and when we were leaving, I saw Meg leaving her doctor’s office. Early this morning, I saw a prescription for prenatal vitamins on her desk.”

I have something I need to tell you. It’s not an emergency.

Like hell it wasn’t. “Let’s go,” he said, looking at Myers. Meg was pregnant with his child and they were both in danger.

“Where?” Myers asked.

“I have his grandmother’s address, here in San Antonio. I’m hoping she can tell us something.”

They took Myers’s car and used both the lights and siren to speed around traffic. The house was a small ranch on a well-maintained street. There was no garage and no car in the narrow driveway.

Cruz ran up the sidewalk and knocked sharply on the front door. He waited twenty seconds and knocked again. Louder.

Myers stepped off the front porch and started looking in windows. The horizontal blinds were down but they were tilted enough to make the interior visible.

“Anything?” Cruz asked, knocking a third time.

“Nope. No lights on inside. Can’t see a whole lot but the place looks empty.”

Just then the front door of a neighboring house opened. A woman, probably in her late sixties, stepped onto the porch. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Myers stepped forward and flashed his badge. “We’re looking for Mrs. Percy.”

The woman shook her head sadly. “You’ll have to go to Lakeview Hospital. She was taken there by ambulance two days ago.”

“What happened?”

“She broke her hip. Said she fell down her basement steps.”

Cruz stepped forward. “You say that as if you don’t believe it.”

The woman shrugged. “I’m not accusing anybody of anything. All I’m saying is that Loretta Percy has been living in that house for twelve years and she’s never fallen down the basement stairs. But the one time her grandson visits, it happens. That seems like an odd coincidence to me.”

Cruz started running for the car. He could hear Myers on his heels. They made it to the hospital in less than fifteen minutes. They asked to speak to a charge nurse and they were quickly escorted into Loretta Percy’s room.

The woman was banged up. She had bruises and cuts on her face and arms. The rest of her body was covered by a sheet. Her eyes were closed.

“Mrs. Percy,” Cruz said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

The woman opened her eyes. “Yes,” she said.

“I’m Detective Cruz Montoya. I’m looking for your grandson, Troy Blakely.”

“What did he do?” she asked, her voice weak.

“I think he has my wife. Margaret Gunderson.”

The woman closed her eyes and seemed to shrink in her bed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She’s a good girl.”

“We need to know where he is. Do you have any idea?”

She shook her head. “He lived with me up until a year ago. He changed after his mother died. They had had a big argument a few years back. He was very upset that they hadn’t reconciled before she died. My grandson has a tendency to blame others for his troubles. After his mother died, he became fixated on your wife. He said that everything that went wrong in his life started with her.”

Myers stepped forward. “Did he do this?” he asked.

The woman didn’t answer.

“Did you go to Meg Montoya’s office?” Myers asked. “To tell her about Troy?”

The woman nodded and licked her dry lips. “I could see that he was getting worse. All he talked about was that Meg had to pay for the trouble she’d caused. If it helps, he has my car. It’s a blue Ford Focus, a 2005.” She reached for the tablet and pen that was on the narrow tray table that swiveled over her bed. “Here’s the license plate number.” She shifted her eyes to Cruz. “You better find her fast.”