It had nearly killed her watching the helicopter disappear in the sky with him on board. And she’d hated being stuck with aFlorida Highway Patrolman as her assigned bodyguard, wasting time making her get checked out at a local Live Oak emergency room. When the doctors there confirmed what she’d said all along—that she was fine—the patrolman had finally taken off down Interstate 10 to drive her to Jacksonville. They’d arrived two hours ago, and she still didn’t have an update on Bryson’s condition other than that he was in surgery.
“Ms. Ray—”
“Tell you what, Detective Burns.” She flattened her palms against the table but didn’t sit. “How about you get me a real update this time on Mr. Anton’s condition. Something more detailed than a simple acknowledgment that he’s still in surgery, and then, maybe I’ll answer more of your endless questions.”
He sighed heavily, then left the room, presumably to get the information that she’d requested.
Another detective motioned toward her seat. “There are three murders attributable to your abductor—Mr. and Mrs. Broderick and the driver of the delivery truck that he hijacked. We need to catch this guy before he hurts someone else.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” She shook her head at his seeming callousness. Her heart ached over the senseless, brutal murders her kidnapper had carried out while trying to get to her. She wanted him caught just as badly as anyone else, probably more so. Because even though she wasn’t the one who’d hurt those people, she’d always wonder whether she could have done something differently to prevent their deaths.
“Ms. Ray,” he began again. “I know this is nerve-racking, especially when you’re worried about your fiancé. But we really need your help.”
A twinge of guilt shot through her over the fiancé lie. But she’d wanted to make sure that the hospital would share information with her on Bryson’s condition. Not that it had served her well so far. She’d been stuck in this room, answering dozens, maybehundreds of questions during this inquisition. There just wasn’t anything else she could tell them. Maybe if they’d actually work on the investigation, using the information that she’d already given them, they’d figure out the killer’s identity and arrest him.
She plopped down in her chair. “I honestly don’t know what else you think I can tell you. We’ve been over the timeline again and again. I told you the guy looked familiar but I couldn’t figure out why, still can’t. I sat with your sketch artist and you’ve got his likeness now. Why don’t you put an APB out based on that and try to find the guy?”
“They don’t use the term APB anymore, Ms. Ray,” a familiar voice spoke from the doorway. “It’s called a BOLO—be on the lookout.”
Relief had her slumping in her chair at the sight of Bryson’s boss from The Justice Seekers, Mason Ford. “Mr. Ford, thank you so much for coming.”
He stepped inside the room. “I’m just glad that I was already in the state working a case when you called.”
“Who the heck are you?” one of the detectives demanded. Rodriquez, she believed.
“A friend of the family. If you don’t mind, I need to speak to Ms. Ray.” He opened the door wider when they didn’t move. “Privately.”
The detectives shot sour looks at both of them but finally got up. As they headed out the door, Rodriquez turned back to Teagan and slid a business card across the table. “When you’re ready to cooperate, give me a call. We need to jump on this case fast. Please don’t take too long.” With that he headed out the door.
She threw her hands in the air. “When I’m ready to cooperate? I’ve done nothing but cooperate. They keep asking me the same questions over and over.”
Ford shut the door behind him and gave her an apologetic look. “And I’m about to ask you to repeat everything you just told them. Sorry about that. But you did call. I’m here, and the full force of my company is at yours and Bryson’s disposal. I’m pulling everyone off noncritical cases effective immediately. We’ll do everything we can to catch this guy.”
Some of the tension that had taken hold of her for the past twenty-four hours began to melt away at his words. “Thank you, Mr. Ford. I can’t tell you how good it is to hear someone say that. Those detectives treated me as if I was a suspect, the jerks.”
His mouth tilted up in what she assumed passed for a smile for him. Back at The Justice Seekers headquarters he’d never cracked even a shadow of a smile. But he’d been nothing but courteous and had jumped at the chance to help once she’d called him on the way from Live Oak to Jacksonville to tell him that Bryson was hurt.
He set a leather portfolio on the table and sat across from her. “First, please call me Mason. After all, you being Bryson’s fiancée makes you family, more or less.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I’m sure you realize we aren’t really engaged. I made that up so the hospital would share updates about his condition. Not that they’ve bothered.”
“Since you only met a few days ago, I kind of figured that was a ruse. The offer to call me Mason still stands.”
“A few days ago? It feels like I’ve known him forever.”
“Not surprising, given the trauma and emotional turmoil you’ve weathered together. As to those detectives being jerks, I’m sorry it feels that way. They’re under a lot of pressure to solve this thing and probably don’t even realize how they come across. Not that it excuses poor manners. As for Bryson’s condition, I can update you on that.”
She straightened in her chair. “The hospital gave you information?”
“Let’s just say that I got the information from the hospital and leave it at that. Sometimes the end justifies the means. Don’t you think?”
She grinned. “I like how you work, Mason. Please tell me how he’s doing. Is he...is he going to—”
“He’s going to be fine.”
She dropped her face in her hands, unexpected tears flowing down her cheeks.
He waited silently until she regained control of her emotions. A few minutes later, she drew a ragged breath and sat back. “That’s very good to hear. Thank you.”
