Chapter 19

Amanda shook her head, clearing her vision. Leaning on a tree, she sank to the ground trying to absorb everything she had just witnessed.

She'd better go see if Joe was okay. She alternated between walking and running to the spot where she saw Joe drag the cop into the woods, her eyes darting around in search any movement anywhere. She scanned the area, and then entered the woods where Joe had dragged the cop.

"Holy shit!" She turned in circles, covering her mouth. "He's lost it. He's gone nuts."

This guy wasn't Joe. It was another man in his underwear. Joe must have changed clothes with the cop and that was who she had seen get into the car. Joe dressed as a cop. He shot a police officer, a cop. No one, no one, especially a cop, was supposed to get hurt.

"This is bad, real bad, and I don't want nothin' to do with it. I hav'ta get out of here and right now," Amanda muttered herself.

She ran back toward the van only to find the van doors locked and, of course, the keys gone. She glanced around, saw no one, picked up a rock, and hurled it into the back-door window. Punching in the pieces of glass, she reached in and opened the door. She grabbed her purse and backpack and slammed the door closed. She watched for any sign of Joe's return or anyone else who may have heard the glass breaking or the door slamming. She didn't see anyone so she took off running toward the house.

As Amanda got closer to the house she saw an empty police car sitting outside. Joe must be there and inside. She thought a few minutes and then took off walking briskly toward the interstate. She had hitchhiked before and probably would again. Right now, she wanted to get back to Denver and head to parts unknown. She would change her name and appearance so Boss or Joe wouldn't be able to find her.

She jogged along the streets. Any time a car passed by she ducked behind whatever was nearby poles, bushes, Dumpsters, sheds, or parked cars. She feared Joe or someone Boss sent would come looking for her when there was nowhere to hide.

* * * *

Wyatt got up from the table and started to clear the breakfast dishes, stacking them in the sink, while Isabella watched him a few seconds before helping him finish up. She stood beside him at the sink, leaning her back against the counter while sipping the last of her coffee. She glanced around the room.

"You know, I never would have thought this to be your kitchen. It's beautiful, don't get me wrong. Very homey and efficient, but it just, just doesn't seem like you."

Wyatt looked around the room at the pink print border with matching valances and fabric covered doors. "I don't really care that much about anything else in here except the huge bay window facing outside. When I'm in this room all I see is the picturesque wooded outdoors. My sister, Amy, wanted to decorate it for me, and I let her do what she wanted with one stipulation. She had to leave the window alone and uncovered. I love the woods and wide-open spaces.

"Speaking of the big windows facing the woods," he cleared his throat, "we're sitting targets for your abductors. And as much as I love the view, I want us both to be safe, so we need to limit the amount of time we spend in here, especially you. And we better start right now, so I'll finish up here and meet you downstairs. We can read the Sunday paper in the family room unless you have something else in mind you'd like to do?"

He feasted on her face, settled on her eyes, and licked his lips involuntarily. She stared at him a few seconds, fear crossed her face, replaced with confusion and doubt, not sure exactly what he meant by "something else." He could see her wariness of him.

He tried to cover for his thoughtlessness. "Well, we can watch TV, maybe find a good movie. I have a pretty good selection of movies as well as books to choose from if you'd like to read something a little deeper or more soul-searching than the local news in the paper."

Relief covered her face, and her tense lips and shoulders relaxed. She followed his eyes to her chest. Her nipples pierced through the thin fabric of the light shirt as if reporting the weather. In one smooth movement, she raised her arms across her breasts.

"No, no, the paper is just fine." She turned, fleeing to the sanctuary of the family room downstairs.

Wyatt could have kicked himself. He should have kicked himself. Here is a gorgeous young woman, completely defenseless, in the midst of a traumatic experience, a crisis. Stripped of her identity and all he can think about is how much he wanted was to feel her soft breasts in his hands, to lick her nipples until they became hard and erect. He pushed away from the sink when he realized he had become hard. He needed a cold shower before he joined her to read the paper.

****

Dave answered his cell phone as he sat down at his desk. Detective Tim Hayes had run a background check on Michael Terrell through the national database and found a hit. Aha! Michael had a rap sheet including a couple arrests for money laundering and numerous offenses for soliciting prostitution. He also had an affiliation with some tough guys.

"Who?"

"Steve Spikerelli, aka Spike from Denver, but word is he left a month or so ago. I think you were there, right, Dave?"

"Can you get a current location on both Michael Terrell and Spike?"

"I'm working on it. I also sent a teletype to Denver PD to check for the girl's car and on her mother, Anna Donnelly. No word so far, but I'll get back to you whenever I have more info," Tim said and hung up the phone.

Dave closed his phone and rocked back in his chair, trying to put all the information he had gathered in his head. Some pieces of the puzzle were still missing, which left him perplexed and more convinced than ever that he needed to solve the case.

He wondered if Isabella had told them the truth and everything she remembered. He liked her, her spirit, and Wyatt's reaction to her. He wanted her to be truthful, as opposed to being an extremely good actor, or possibly a very sick young woman, so he could help her. He wanted to believe her. He just needed to prove it-to be really one hundred percent positive.

He needed to be able to protect Wyatt and to cover his back, like Wyatt had covered his so many times in the past. Wyatt was a wealthy businessman and land developer. He could easily have been set up for ransom, and Dave was certain Wyatt and his father had made some enemies throughout the growth of the business and their careers.

Dave reminisced about when he and Wyatt had first worked together. Those were the good ol' days. They had been best friends since grade school, then partners on the local police force doing what they wanted to do, fighting crime-until they made the bust on the prostitution ring during which Wyatt's fiancée, Rachael, had died in the line of duty. After that incident, Wyatt had remained his close friend but only worked a few special cases.

He knew Wyatt so well. He burned the candle at both ends. He got little sleep or rest, always busy until late every night and up early every morning. After Wyatt's parents died, he had picked up the pieces of his father's business, had made it bigger, better, and more prosperous than ever before. He owned property and malls all over the country, but he never forgot to give back to the community.

Dave shook his head, picked up his notebook, and reviewed his notes. He would have to remain as objective as possible throughout this investigation. He started making note cards and putting them on his work board-searching for the connection he was determined to find somewhere.

****

Isabella took her time going down the stairs, peering over the banister viewing the family room. Wyatt's open laptop with a blank screen sat in the middle of the large desk immediately to her left at the bottom at the stairs. She knew she shouldn't touch it, but like a kid in a candy store she couldn't resist. She reached out and touched the space bar on the keyboard. The screen lit up. Her eyes grew larger as she saw her name, a picture ID, current home address, and all her pertinent information right there in front of her.

Oh my God! He knew. He's known since earlier this morning anyway. All the printed pages on the table, that's what they were-my identity.

After all the questioning Wyatt and Dave had put her through and they had known all along. He had already verified her name and identification on some special database he had access. So much for unlisted phone numbers and privacy. She quickly closed the laptop.

Sitting on the desk beside the laptop, she noticed an ornate polished gold frame. Wyatt and a beautiful young woman looked out at her from inside, their arms wrapped around each other, each smiling into the camera. She picked up the picture and studied it closer. Wyatt's smile in the picture made his face light up, and he appeared soft, even loveable. Not the rough and hardened man she saw this morning during the questioning episode. She wondered if the woman was a wife, or girlfriend, maybe a past lover, and about what would it take to get his face to light up like that when he looked at her.

He stood beside her before she had even heard his footsteps on the stairs. She stuttered, "Is-is this picture of your wife?"

While gently touching the picture she had forgotten she still held in her hands, Wyatt looked at her soft face.

"No, no wife. That's my sister, Amy. She lives in New York."

She looked down at his hand touching hers. Fire flamed across her fingers where his touched hers. She looked into his face, saw his eyes searching hers. His eyes became a darker blue, showing an almost undeniable hunger. She felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach, something she hadn't felt before, and knew she didn't want it to go away. Her heart stirred, and her knees trembled. She couldn't think. She felt giddy and scared. She took a ragged breath as she felt her face redden in a blush.