Confusion shaded Vic’s eyes. “What?” she asked, shaking her head. “You think… you think I’d hurt your wife.”
A wave of relief washed through him as he lifted himself and her off the ground. “Kristina’s missing. Why are you here? Crying?” Hope flickered like a candle wafting in a draft, but it just didn’t make sense that she’d come here. If Victoria hadn’t heard that his wife was missing, why would she have come here?
“I wanted to confront you, Derrick. Find out if your relationship was authentic.” Victoria threw her head up, releasing a breathy groan, seemingly restraining a cry. “But I guess you just answered my question.”
He ran his hand over his head. Grateful that Kristina might still be alive, but now he needed to find the next suspect in his mind. “Where’s Jonas?” he demanded. “Have you heard from him or Ry, or Michael? Someone kidnapped Kristina, and it has to be one of them.”
“You’d accuse your own brother…” She pulled her hand to her mouth, chewing on a fingernail. “You think your brother, or someone in the family could do such a thing?” She closed her eyes in exasperation, shaking her head again. “Why would they kidnap her?”
Derrick grabbed her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her until she understood. “I told everyone he threatened her, but no one seems to be taking this seriously. I don’t know why, dammit. I don’t know anything. All I know is he murdered another innocent man, and Kristina is missing.” He choked out a breath. “Now, where’s Jonas?”
Vic knocked his hands away and stepped out of his reach. “Last time I saw him was eleven this morning. We ate breakfast together.”
“Breakfast, at eleven a.m.? That doesn’t sound like you.”
Her eyes cast downward. “We spent the night together.”
Odd that that tidbit hadn’t even fazed him, and she’d clearly thought it would. Or maybe she was just embarrassed. “And you haven’t seen him since?”
She wagged her head in a jerky action. “No.”
“Where have you been all day?”
She shrugged. “Just thinking. I’ve been smacked upside the head with a lot of stuff in the last few days, and I’m not sure—” She released a long sigh. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve got more important things to concern yourself with.”
Derrick released a groan. “I do care, Victoria, but I don’t have any time to think of anything but finding Kristina at the moment.” The problem was he didn’t know where to start. He had hoped that the rogue would call or show, make demands. Obviously he wanted something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what. Even if it was one of the three men, what could they gain? What had he ever done to them? And then it occurred to him. Maybe his position? They wanted to be overseer? Well, they could have it. He’d leave. He didn’t even care about the position. It wasn’t as if he’d run for office. The council chose the overseer.
Derrick unlocked the door and held it open for Vic, but she didn’t step inside.
Vic shook her head. “I have to go, Derrick.”
He took a step toward her, resting his hand on her shoulder, gentler than he’d been before. She’d always been his best friend. He’d confided in her more than he had Michael. “You know I never meant to hurt you, right?”
She nodded. “We both knew. We’ve always been honest about our relationship. But now, I have to go after someone before I lose him.”
“I need your help, Vic,” he said. She was dressed in black jeans, long sleeve shirt, and a heavy leather jacket over her arm. Obviously, she’d planned to be on watch tonight for him—for all of them. But he knew it must kill her to know she was protecting his wife. Vic was an excellent fighter, and they’d sparred many times. If he had to go up against the rogue, he’d want Vic even before Michael. She may not be as strong, but she was fast, and she knew all his moves, since the same person had trained them. Actually, he’d trained all of them.
“Name it. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. But until then, I have to find him.”
“Who?”
She turned away, ignoring him. “Call me when you know what you’re going to do.” She pushed open the door to the stairwell and walked out, letting it slam behind her. Like him, she couldn’t be bothered with the elevator.
Derrick stood motionless for a second, confused, wondering if she’d really given up that easily. He couldn’t think about it. He picked up the phone and dialed Michael again. He’d been trying to reach him all day.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Kris woke up with a stabbing pain shooting through her skull, reminiscent of the worst hangover she’d ever had. It was dark, so dark, but then again, she could feel a rough material against her face, so maybe it was daytime.
She had no idea how long she’d been out. Her body was in a curled up fetal position atop a scratchy blanket, but the cold dampness seeped through to her bones. Her arms ached from the unnatural position behind her back, and the restraints cut into her wrists. Her fingers tingled from the lack of blood flow. She stretched her top leg out and pushed up with her bottom leg until she was in a seated position with one leg underneath her. She repositioned her body so that she was on her knees, and then propping one leg up and then the other, she managed to get herself to an upright position. The binds were so tight on her wrist she couldn’t pull her arms down the back of her legs as she’d done when she was a child with play handcuffs.
She took tiny steps forward, not certain where she was. In just a few strides, she bumped into a wall. Moving her head back and forth carefully against the solid wall, she realized in fact, that there was a shroud over her head. A rough burlap material scratched against her face.
Now would be a good time to scream, she thought, but whatever was over her mouth, prevented her from getting any volume. She wiggled her lips, attempting to get the sticky substance free.
As she worked at moving her mouth up and down and sideways, she skirted the room cautiously, measuring the width and length, tripping over a bucket of some sort every few feet. The stench of oil, grease, and bleach assaulted her nostrils, and she struggled to scratch her nose against the hard cold surface of the wall. The tiny room was only about three by six feet, she guessed. A storage unit, or a maintenance closet, maybe? It was cold, but off the concrete floor, her body felt better, since she still wore her jacket from the hike and zip line trip. But her face was freezing—Derrick! The memory crashed into her consciousness.
The hike, the zip line. She hadn’t dreamed up Derrick. She wasn’t in a riverbed. The rogue had kidnapped her. Was Derrick okay? she wondered. Derrick had said that the rogue would kill her first to hurt him, so he was probably okay if she was still alive. But that also meant he had something ruthless in store for her.
She chewed furiously at the tape. If she could get free… if Derrick was anywhere nearby, he’d hear her. Kris turned to the sound of wood scraping across the floor.