Chapter 53
Bo watched intently as Carly and Quinn walked towards her car. Thanks to the angle of the garage cameras, Bo was not able to track their movements any further than the start of their path across the garage. But only a few moments later another camera picked up the car pulling onto the circular ramp which would lead it out of the garage and onto the street. Two people were clearly in the car when it exited the garage, and Bo could make out enough of the grainy images to know that the driver was Quinn and the passenger was Carly. The car turned right and disappeared from sight.
"Would you like to see it again, sir?" Neil Compton, the hospital's Chief of Security, was prepared to run the tape once more, but Bo shook his head.
Bo turned his back on Neil and the rooms' other two occupants, Roman and John. There was a gray, metal filing cabinet directly across from him. Bo punched it. Having thrown all his weight behind the swing, his fist made a slight dent, but the cabinet didn't break. So he grabbed hold of it and hurled it as far as he could.
Bo looked around for something else to assault, but his rage quickly became despair and he collapsed into a chair. Roman and John exchanged pointed looks before Roman went to Bo.
"Little brother, you've got to keep your head on. You're no damn good to Carly if you spend your time tearing up stuff instead of looking for her."
John joined the men that he considered his brothers. "Roman's right, man, you gotta keep your shit together. Carly's gonna be mighty pissed if you're black and blue when you find her." He pointed to the bruises already forming on Bo's right hand.
"She's gone," Bo said sadly. "I couldn't keep her safe and now that bastard has her again! Do you know what he did to her, before?"
"Yeah, we do," Roman said. "Which is why we're gonna find her before he can hurt her again. You're gonna find your wife and your unborn daughter and save them, Little brother. Do you hear me?"
"How, Roman? How am I going to find Carly?" Bo was growing angry again, which may not be the best thing, but Angry Bo seemed to be an improvement over Despondant Bo. Bo leapt to his feet and began pacing, ticking off the strikes against them.
"The GPS on her car was disabled shortly after she left the hospital. The FBI is no closer to learning where those damned letters are coming from. The ISA has rounded up all of Alamain's guards, and every one of them claims to know nothing about the fucker faking his death!
"We're chasing our own goddamned tails, and the both of you know it. Alamain's been two steps ahead of us the whole game. So would one of you please tell me how I'm supposed to find my wife?"
Nick burst in then, cutting off any response from either Roman or John. "The state police found Mom's car."
Twenty minutes later, Bo, Roman, John and Nick arrived at a patch of woods off Highway 22, on the outskirts of Brookwood. The trooper in charge was Lt. Akilah Sawyer, and she wasted no time filling Bo in on what she and her team had learned.
"The car is just over there." She pointed to a thicket maybe thrity yards away from where they stood. "A couple of hunters spotted it and called it in. If not for their tip, there's no telling when we would have found it."
Bo could see what she meant; while the road was a main thoroughfare between Salem and Brookwood, the car had been placed far enough in the woods so as not to be visible from the road. "Did you find anything in the car?"
"Your wife's purse was in the passenger seat."
"Let me see it," Bo demanded, but Akilah shook her head.
"We've already turned it over to the FBI," she told him and gestured behind her where Bo saw Rafe Hernandez talking with a couple of other guys in FBI vests.
"What about her cell phone?"
"We haven't located a phone yet. Look, this is what we know. There's no sign of damage to the car, nothing indicative of a wreck or even any kind of struggle. We're dusting for prints now. When we know more, you'll be the first to know, you have my word."
Bo eyed the woman carefully, taking her measure. He liked what he saw and knew in his gut that he could trust her. The sky was darkening as night drew closer. Carly had been missing for nearly four hours.
"It'll be dark soon," Bo commented.
Akilah nodded. "We're waiting on a wrecker to tow your wife's car to a garage used by the FBI. My officers will continue to search the parameter around the car as long as the light holds."
Rafe approached them, then, to speak with Bo. "There's nothing more you can do here, man. You should go home, be with your family."
Bo vehemently shook his head. "I can't go home, Rafe, not without Carly."
"It's just for a while. What about Ciara?" Rafe asked.
"She's got my mother and her sisters. They're with her."
Roman picked up on Rafe's angle and joined in the effort. "Little girl probably needs to see her daddy, I'd imagine. Kid's probably scared without her mama, Bo. You oughta go see her, just for a little bit."
They're right, Bo thought. Ciara's gonna need me. I haven't even seen her this afternoon. She had to hear about Carly from Ma. He wanted, needed, to be in the middle of the case, though. If a break came, he might be the only one who could figure it out. He knew he was the only who could bring Carly home. What do I do, Princess?
It was Nick who provided the answer to the question Bo had not voiced. "Bo, Mom would want you to take care of Ciara. I think – I know – that she'd rather you were watching out for Ciara. That's what she'd want."
Bo cast a final look around at the site and allowed the others to take him home.
Carly's head was hurting.
Since pain meant she was still alive, she wasn't too concerned with the jackhammering in her frontal lobe. The question of how long she would remain alive was somewhat up in the air at the moment. She was lying down, but not on a bed. It wasn't the floor, either; the surface under her was padded, but not overly so - a couch, maybe?
She was curled on her left side, her right arm over her belly. She gave a slight push and was elated when the baby reacted immediately. Sit tight, Baby Girl, I'm going to get us out of this – somehow.
Tuning her senses inward, Carly catalogued her physical state. Born out of the years of Lawrence's abuse, this process had saved her from further injury on many occasions when she'd awakened, bruised and broken externally and bleeding internally.
The first time Lawrence had beaten her unconscious, she'd awakened with two broken ribs, a bruised liver and a dislocated shoulder. One of the broken ribs had been shattered, the jagged edge resting uncomfortably close to her left lung. Flight instinct in high gear, Carly had rolled to her side, successfully puncturing her lung. Lawrence had watched her struggle for a few life-threatening moments before summoning his private physician.
Since that experience, Carly had taken to giving herself what she'd come to think of as a mental MRI after each bout of torment at Lawrence's hands. She began with her brain and worked her way down and out, over her organs, through her bloodstream, outward to her limbs, until she reached the tips of her toes. These little check-ups were second nature to her now, and she often conducted them in the mornings before fully waking.
Satisfied that there were no internal injuries and also that the baby seemed unharmed, she tried opening her eyes. This proved to be a mistake on her part as the light that greeted her left her momentarily blind.
"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed and covered her eyes with her hands. "That fucking hurt!"
"You're awake."
Carly recognized the voice immediately as that of her turn-coat body guard.
Though it caused her already-throbbing head to pulse even more painfully, Carly turned her head in the direction of the voice and lowered her hands from her face. She was ready for the light so it didn't come as such a shock as it had the first go-round. What had felt like a solar flare turned out to be the soft glow of a rather conservative-looking reading lamp. It was the room's only source of light.
"Quinn. Would you mind telling me why the hell you tried to kill me?"
Quinn shrugged matter-of-factly. "If I'd wanted to kill you, then you would be dead. My job was only to bring you here."
"Here" was the sparsely furnished room of someone's house. It was an older house, Carly could tell that much from the faded magnolia print wallpaper. Cobwebs and dust bunnies made her suspect that she and Quinn were the room's first human occupants in quite a while. There were two windows on one wall and both were covered with old-fashioned shades, yellowed with age.
Quinn's large frame was folded in an arm chair that had definitely seen better days. Looking down, Carly discovered she was on a divan. She was still clothed, and beyond the headache from the chloroform, she didn't seem to have suffered physically. She exhaled slowly in relief.
As though he could read her mind, Quinn spoke again. "I don't hold with rape, Dr. Manning."
Carly snorted. "But apparently kidnapping rests peacefully on your conscience."
Another shrug. "I was hired to provide a service."
"You were supposed to protect me, you bastard!"
Quinn shook his head. "That was never my job. My job was to watch you and to take you when the moment was right. That's what I've done."
"You're a hitman."
"I'm an entrepreneur."
"My husband will find you."
"No," Quinn spoke slowly as if explaining something to a child. "He won't, Dr. Brady. By the time your body is located, I will be long gone."
Carly swayed, dizzied by the wave of fear washing over her. "So you are going to kill me." The strength of her voice surprised her.
"I'm not. My employer wishes to personally take care of that task."
"Ah, your employer," said Carly. The dizziness was threatening to overtake her. She broke out in a cold sweat and a painful cramp seized her belly. Oh, no, you are absolutely NOT going into labor, Manning! This is neither the time nor the place.
Her daughter seemed to agree with her and gave a powerful kick. Or maybe she was disagreeing with her since before Carly could even take a deep breath, another contraction sent her reeling. Trying to distract herself, Carly asked, "And how long have you been in Lawrence's employ?"
"What do you mean?"
"Have you been following me since I left Alamania, or did Lawrence just look you up in the Yellow Pages under 'mercenary'?"
"For a woman who's about to die, you're awfully chatty," Quinn remarked but he didn't answer her question.
"It isn't like I've got anything better to do with my time."
Quinn surprised her by laughing heartily. "I almost feel bad about all this. I like you, you're…plucky."
"Gee, thanks. Your admiration just makes me feel all kinds of better." Carly barely refrained from sticking out her tongue at the mountain of a man across the room who only laughed some more.
Carly shifted around in an effort to get more comfortable and felt something jabbing her in the leg. Her cell phone was still in her pants pocket! If the phone was in her pocket, then it was still on. Quinn must not have bothered to check her pockets; otherwise he would have found and certainly discarded her phone. This was the break she needed.
The shades on the windows were drawn, but Carly could tell that night had fallen. The chloroform couldn't have knocked her out for more than a few hours. Bo would know by now that she was missing. If she could only manage to turn on her phone's GPS mode, then Bo would be able to find her.
Quinn had stopped laughing and was now checking his watch. Carly heard the faint sound of a car engine. Quinn must have heard it, too, as he quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.
A knock sounded at what must be the front door and Carly knew she had mere seconds to do something, anything, to contact Bo. Her phone showed a full signal, and she activated the GPS. Listening intently she could hear low murmurs coming from the other room. She wanted to send Bo a text, but what to say?
She had no idea where she was.
She could tell him she was alive, that she loved him, but neither of those things would help him find her. The murmuring stopped; then Carly heard footfalls heading towards her. With trembling fingers, she managed to type what she hoped would result in her rescue and hit send. She didn't dare keep the phone on her person. Quinn might have not physically searched her, but Lawrence would have no such qualms.
She placed the phone on the floor and slid it under the divan; then she stood, though the action sent her reeling. She would meet Lawrence on her feet. The door knob turned, and Carly's heart pounded so furiously in her chest that she wondered briefly if she'd go into cardiac arrest and save Lawrence the trouble of killing her.
But when the door opened fully, it was not Lawrence who appeared in the doorway – it was Hope.
