Nessie was blushing when she said, “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous, but my friends and I have heard you singing with XO, and we were wondering if we could have your autograph. We may be older, but that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate good music.”
Isabel was so touched by the sincerity in her voice, she couldn’t help but say yes. Nessie handed her a pen, and she began signing a dozen papers placed in front of her, personalizing each one with a name on Nessie’s list. When she was finished, Nessie thanked her profusely.
Isabel said good-bye, and as she was walking back into Gladstone’s office, she almost stumbled over a couple of boxes sitting next to Nessie’s desk.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Nessie exclaimed. “I was just about to take those to my car. It’s mostly junk to be donated. Knickknacks. Someone will want them,” she said, picking up one of the boxes.
“I’ll help,” Isabel offered. Bending down, she picked up the other and walked behind Nessie to the back door, which had been propped open with a brick.
“I don’t have a key to get back in if the door’s closed,” Nessie explained.
They loaded the boxes in the trunk of her car, and Nessie thanked Isabel again as she slid behind the wheel.
Daylight was slowly fading as Isabel watched her drive away. She took a deep inhale of the clean fresh air. She reached for the doorknob and used her foot to push the brick out of her way, but just as she was going inside, someone grabbed her arm and wrenched it back, knocking her off-balance. She was so surprised, she yelped.
Isabel twisted around and came face-to-face with Freya Harcus. The look in the woman’s eyes was chilling. Isabel was so shocked to see her she froze, but only for a second. Then she tried to get free of Freya’s grip. My God, she was strong. Her hand felt like a vise clamped around Isabel’s arm, squeezing the bone.
What was happening didn’t make any sense to Isabel. Why had Freya latched on to her arm? What did she want? And where had her superhuman strength come from?
“Let go of me,” Isabel demanded. She made a fist with her other hand, and was about to punch Freya to get free when she saw the gun Freya had pressed into her side.
“If you scream or shout a warning, your man, Buchanan, will come running and I’ll shoot him. He struck my boy, made him bleed. He shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice was filled with loathing.
“He deserves to die.”
The heavy back door had already closed. Even if she could get away from Freya, she couldn’t run inside because the door had automatically locked. If she tried to run the other way, she would never make it to the street before Freya shot her in the back, and Isabel didn’t have any doubt that she would. Freya’s rage was terrifying.
“What do you want?” Isabel asked, trying to stay calm. She was in such a panic now, knowing Michael would grow impatient and would come looking for her. He wouldn’t suspect Freya had a weapon, which gave her the advantage. She’d kill him before he took a step outside.
“You’re coming with me,” Freya said as she jerked Isabel ahead of her. “You give me any trouble, and I’ll pound on that door so Buchanan will come running. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Do you want to watch him die?”
“No, no, I’ll do whatever you say.”
Freya shoved Isabel forward. “Then move.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Isabel’s instinct was to refuse, but she couldn’t do that. She was going to have to cooperate until they were far enough away from the building, and she knew Michael was safe. Then she would figure out how to get the gun away from Freya without getting shot.
Freya kept her gun trained on Isabel and held tight to her wrist as they rounded the corner to the side of the building where Freya had parked her car. She shoved Isabel ahead of her.
“You drive.”
THIRTY-FOUR
ISABEL HAD VANISHED.
Michael searched the building looking for her, then went outside and circled the area, thinking she might have wanted to stretch her legs and get some fresh air. No, he knew she wouldn’t have done that. Still, he had to look.
They had made a pact. She had promised him that she wouldn’t go anywhere without him. She gave him her word, and she wouldn’t break it. So, what happened to her?
He was not going to panic. He had to stay calm and clearheaded so he could find her. She hadn’t been gone long. He had seen her just a few minutes ago. She was in the lobby talking to Nessie. And now? Gone?
Someone had taken her. It was the only possible explanation.
Michael wouldn’t allow himself to think she might be hurt. He had never been this scared before.
If anything happened to her, if he lost her forever . . .
When he walked back into the office, Gladstone was on the phone trying to find Nessie. He thought she might know where Isabel was. He tried her cell phone first, but it immediately went to voicemail. He called her home phone next. Her husband, William, told him that Nessie had planned to stop at the local bakery to pick up some sweet cakes. Gladstone caught her there just as she was leaving.
Nessie was rattled. “Did something happen? Did I forget to do something? Do you need me to come back in? What’s wrong?”
When Gladstone could get a word in, he said, “We can’t find Isabel.”
“What? What did you do with her?”
“No, no, we can’t find her,” he repeated. “We hoped she might be with you.”
“No,” Nessie answered. She sounded calmer now. “Isabel helped me carry some boxes to my car, and she stood outside the door as I drove off. I waved to her.” She added the insignificant fact before continuing. “I did notice a car parked on the side of the building when I made a U-turn to get out of the lot. I don’t know who the car belonged to.”
“What kind of car was it?”
“A sedan, a dark blue sedan. I don’t know the make.”
Michael had already called Isabel’s cell phone. No answer, but it didn’t immediately go to voicemail. He called Inspector Sinclair next for help. The second he answered, Michael asked, “Did
you arrest Graeme Gibson? Do you have him in custody?”
Sinclair could hear the urgency in Michael’s voice and knew something was wrong. “No,” he answered. “I’ve got officers out looking for him. One of his neighbors said she saw him throw a bag in his SUV and take off. She said he was in quite a hurry. I think he must have heard we were coming for him.”
Graeme Gibson was Clive Harcus’s partner in crime. Michael remembered what Gibson had shouted at Isabel: “I’m going to make sure you can’t cause trouble.”
“Isabel is missing,” Michael said. “I think Gibson has her.”
Saying the words out loud sent a chill down his back. The hatred Michael had seen in the man’s eyes should have been warning enough that he would do something.
Where would he take her? It would have to be someplace private where no one would see or hear. The Highlands were perfect for him, with the mountains and the rugged, unexplored terrain.
There were a hundred places he could hide her and not be seen.
Sinclair pulled him back from his dark thoughts. “Meet me at the Rosemore Police Station. We’ll hear calls coming in. I’m going to put a bulletin out on Isabel right now. And Michael . . .”