Part 32 (1/2)
”Kayden.” He searched under stalls. Empty. She wasn't there. He raced past the blonde and out the back door. The alley was narrow but wide enough for a vehicle. Had Angela . . . ?
Terror choked the breath from his lungs.
Kayden woke to the sound of an engine and road noise. She opened her eyes, but darkness engulfed her. She was lying on her back on what felt like a hard metal floor-a pickup?-and something hard was poking beneath her shoulder blade.
She s.h.i.+fted, her hands bound, her legs too. It didn't feel like rope against her skin. It was sticky and tight. Duct tape, perhaps. It covered her mouth as well.
She turned her head to her right and saw two slits of red equal distance apart. Taillights. She s.h.i.+fted to move her feet closer to one of the lights. Whatever was poking her back dug in deeper. Leading with her casted foot, she kicked at the red light, trying to bust it out. It took several kicks until it shattered. Hopefully it would draw a cop's attention.
She kicked at the pickup's hard top, trying to pop it open, trying to keep most of the force on her uninjured leg, but pain radiating down her leg was all she got for her trouble. She settled back, knowing the next best thing she could do was listen for any markers that might help her identify where Angela was taking her.
Jake burst into Landon's office. ”She's taken Kayden.”
”Angela? Are you certain?”
”Kayden went into the bathroom at the Imperial Garden and never came back. I checked the bathroom and it was empty. The rear door is only a few feet away. And there's s.p.a.ce in the alleyway for a vehicle.”
”You think Angela followed you there and then sat in wait?”
”That's exactly what I think.”
”Did you try calling Kayden's cell?”
”It was in her purse, at the table with me.” He dropped it on Landon's desk.
Landon picked up his phone. ”Let me call Piper and make sure Kayden didn't bolt . . . for some reason.”
”Like what?”
”Maybe she realized you two were on a date and-”
”She just took off without her purse, cell phone, or a means of transportation?”
”I know it's farfetched. I just need to confirm.” He moved his hand off the mouthpiece. ”Hey, babe. Is Kayden with you?” His expression hardened. ”When's the last time you heard from her? Jake's here.” He went on to explain, trying to calm Piper down in the process. ”Let me get on this, and I'll call you back. You don't have to . . . Okay. See you soon.”
”She's on her way over?”
”I imagine they all will be.”
”That's good. The more people we have to track Kayden, the better.” They were going to need all the help they could get. They had no leads on Angela's whereabouts. Wait a minute . . . ”Kirra. I'm such a fool.”
”What about her?”
”When we checked with the DMV and didn't get a hit on anything registered to Carol Jones or Angela Mark.u.m, we let it go, decided we'd hit a dead end, but Kirra must at least know what her car looks like. We can put out an APB on the description.”
”You really think she's stupid enough to drive the same car she did when posing as Carol?”
”It's a long shot, but right now it's the only lead we have to go on.”
Landon lifted the phone. ”I'll call Kirra.”
Within twenty minutes all the McKennas, Darcy, and Kirra had descended on the station.
”We should call Cole,” Gage said.
Jake hated to bother him on his honeymoon, but if he had a sister who'd been kidnapped, he'd want to know ASAP.
Kirra provided a description of the car Angela had used when posing as Carol-a Nissan Altima. Silver. Four-door sedan.
”Any chance you caught some of her license plate?” Jake asked.
Kirra grimaced. ”Sorry. I don't notice things like that.”
”Was that the only car Angela ever drove?”
”Yes . . . Well, there was one day she showed up in a truck. She said it was a loaner while her car was in the shop.”
”Can you describe it?”
”It was an older model Toyota Tacoma. Midnight blue. Still looked to be in good shape.”
”Did she say which shop she went to?”
”No, but I asked. Told her Lenny's was the best in town.”
”And she'd gone to . . . ?”
”William Rogers' place.”
Jake nodded. ”On it.”
Jake entered William Rogers' garage. William was in his sixties, and both of his sons ran the shop. ”Hey, Will,” he greeted the junior William-he was working late; it was almost eight.
”Hey, Jake. Don't tell me your truck's acting up again.”
”No. I'm here for an entirely different reason.” He took a moment to give Will the details.
”Yeah. I remember the Altima. Needed a new timing belt.”
”Did you happen to note the license plate number by any chance?”
”Yeah, actually. We record the license plates of all the cars we service.”
Thank you, G.o.d.
Jake anxiously paced while Will retrieved Angela's records.