“After the assault, I moved away from Phoenix, but Damon followed me. I moved again, and he showed up there. I’m living in Texas now. So far he hasn’t been able to find me.”
“What’s Bridger’s connection to Lisa Shane?”
“Lisa and I stay in touch. Damon knows that. Maybe he kidnapped her to find out where I am.” Her eyes welled with tears. “But Lisa couldn’t have told him because she doesn’t know.”
Larson’s dark eyebrows drew together. “You think this guy Bridger would go that far?”
She wiped away a tear. “I don’t know. I think there’s a chance he would.”
“All right, we’ll check it out. Okay if I call you Victoria?”
“Tory,” she said.
“One thing I can tell you, Tory. If Damon Bridger did this, he’ll pay for what he’s done.”
She only nodded. Her throat felt too tight to speak.
“Do the police have any leads?” Josh asked.
“The sheriff’s office has deputies scouring the location where Ms. Shane was picked up. There are dozens of cabins in the area and miles of dirt roads. Most of the residences are owned by seasonal users so they’re empty much of the time. So far the deputies haven’t been able to locate the place she was being held prisoner.”
“Are they sure that’s where he was holding her?” Josh asked.
“Not for certain. She was naked when she was shot. One theory is she was being transported from one location to another, possibly in the trunk, somehow managed to get out of the vehicle and get away.”
Josh’s big hand reached for Tory’s beneath the table. His warmth and strength seeped into her and she was finally able to breathe.
Detective Larson rose from his chair. “That’s all for now. I need contact information for both of you. Where are you staying?”
“Marriott Courtyard,” Josh answered. “It’s just down the street.” It was good he had found a place because Tory hadn’t been able to think that far ahead.
Larson shoved the notepad across the table and Josh wrote down his contact numbers. “Thanks to Bridger, Tory doesn’t have a smartphone.”
“I’m using a disposable,” she said, and rattled off the number.
“All right, thanks.” The detective picked up his notepad, shoved it and his pen back into his pocket. He was halfway to the door when it swung open and the doctor, a small, silver-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses, walked into the room.
“Dr. Barnard?” Larson asked.
“That’s right.”
“I’m Detective Jeremy Larson. I’ll need to talk to your patient as soon as possible.”
“I understand, Detective, but it’s going to be a while. And there’s a chance it may not do you any good.” He turned his attention to Tory, who had risen from her chair. “You’re her sister?”
Tory hesitated.
“Close enough,” the detective said.
“Aside from the gunshot wound to her lower back and the injuries resulting from the assault, Ms. Shane suffered a severe cranial trauma when she fell and hit her head. A blow that hard can cause retrograde amnesia. There’s a chance of memory loss. In this case it could be extremely pronounced. At the moment we’re more concerned with the possibility of brain swelling.”
A sound slipped from Tory’s throat.
“We’re hoping we won’t have to operate, but there’s always a chance. For now, that’s all I can tell you.”
“How long before you know more?” Josh asked.
“It’s a waiting game now. I’ll let you know where we are as time goes along.”
