Chapter 9
Whipping the car into the valet area, Jonathan was out of it without turning it off and running to the front door, nearly knocking over a bellboy. "Sorry," Jonathan mumbled as he pushed his way inside.
Not wanting to wait for the elevator, he entered the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time. As he reached their floor, Jonathan threw open the door and ran to their room.
His hands shook as he tried to insert the key card. "Ugh. Why do we need credit cards to open doors," he growled. Stopping to breathe a moment, Jonathan grumbled to himself, "Get it together Hart." The second try, the card yielded a red light. "Right side up, please." He tried a third time; the light flashed green.
Jonathan pushed the door open, "Jennifer! Ryleigh!" His appeals greeted only by the echo of his unsteady voice. Calls placed to Jennifer's cell phone had provided the equivalent of the same silence as the only answer he received was her voicemail. "Where are you?" he begged the empty room for a response it was not giving. Glancing at his watch, Jonathan tried to calm his fears as he spoke to himself, "They still have five minutes. Maybe they are just running late."
Once more, he took hold of the doorknob and let himself back out. He had to do the only thing he could think of; check the spa.
Jennifer hurried around the large bush she last saw Ryleigh near and came face to face with Ryleigh, and the gun pointed at her. She looked from Ryleigh to the face of the man holding her and back again. She tried to place where she had seen him before but came up blank. Jennifer felt as if everything was moving in slow motion through the haze now floating in her mind. "Are you alright, Ry?" she heard herself ask softly.
"Yes, Momma," her daughter's lips answered, but her eyes screamed otherwise. Ryleigh was as terrified as Jennifer felt.
Turning her eyes again, she focused on the man behind Ryleigh. Jennifer struggled to make sense of the image in front of her. Then it clicked when she had seen him last, and she asked, "What are you doing, Jordan?"
"Come with me, and I'll explain," he answered as he waved the gun towards the parking lot. Observing some resistance from Jennifer, he added, "Or I can just shoot the child here."
"No, no. No need to shoot anyone," Jennifer tried to keep him calm. "Where are we headed?"
"We are going to the blue car there," he answered, pointing out into the lot. While he spoke, he turned Ryleigh and pushed her out in front of him, gun at her back. "Doors are unlocked, keys are in the ignition. You will drive, Mrs. Hart. Baby girl here can sit beside you, and I'll be in the back where I can keep an eye on you both."
The group made their way towards the parking lot. Ryleigh moved close enough to Jennifer to take her hand before they stepped off the sidewalk. Jennifer turned her head to the girl and winked, before she whispered, "Ça va bien, ma chérie. You'll see." Ryleigh didn't let go until they reached the little car.
As Ryleigh opened the passenger door, Jordan grabbed Jennifer's arm. Jennifer faced him without saying a word. Jordan pulled her handbag from under her arm, "I can not have you letting your husband know what's going on before I am ready." He opened the bag and pulled out her phone and tossed it towards the building. Then he handed the bag back and ushered her to the driver's door.
Jennifer started the car and looked over at Ryleigh, sitting beside her, staring straight ahead. "Ry. Buckle, please," she gently reminded the child.
"They are 45 minutes late, Claire. When have you ever known Jennifer to be 45 minutes late to anything and not call?" Jonathan sat on the couch, phone against his ear, head in his hand. "No, not a word. She doesn't answer her cell, she's left no messages on mine, and the ladies at the spa say Jennifer and Ryleigh left 90 minutes ago. They should have been here when I got back, Claire. I'm waiting for the local police to show now. They don't seem to be in a hurry." He took a breath and fought the urge to fix a scotch or something stronger. "No, I have not called Stephen yet. I want to know something solid before I break his heart. The very idea might kill him." Jonathan rubbed his temple while listening to her ask more questions. "No, just stay there and rest. I'll call you when I know something. I may call Lieutenant Grey and see if he knows anyone here." Jonathan raised his head at the knock on his door. "I've got to go. I'll call you as soon as I know something. Get some rest. Bye."
He slowly stood and moved to the door. The path from the couch to the door was a short trip. However, it felt like swimming through sludge. He forced a deep breath as his hand hit the cold brass knob. The gentleman behind the door struck Jonathan as a cross between Shaggy and Inspector Clouseau. His thin build and frizzy hair did nothing to instill confidence in Jonathan at his abilities to find Jennifer and Ryleigh.
"Hello, Mr. Hart. I'm Detective Duncan."
"Detective." Jonathan stepped back from the door, "Please, come in."
"I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, but it sounds like your day has been rough."
"It didn't start that way, Detective." Jonathan shut the door, moved back to the couch and dropped his body down.
"No?" Detective David Duncan pulled a notepad from the inside of his jacket. "How did it start?"
"Like any other day." Jonathan looked up and locked eyes with the detective. "In bed with my wife."
The detective let loose a loud guffaw. "Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor, Mr. Hart."
"Only my wife and daughter."
"I didn't mean it like…"
"It doesn't matter how you meant it, damn it," Jonathan cut the man off with a growl. "I need to know you are taking this seriously. A man made his way into my home under false pretenses three days ago, beat our friend and caretaker and left her for dead. I only know that because her friend went looking for her early this morning. That lady called me from my house while I was golfing. Now, that same man is either on his way or is already here. And, right now, my wife and child are in the wind."
"Your friend, she is ok?"
"Recuperating in the hospital. I was able to talk to Claire for a few moments. It looks like she will be fine."
The detective studied him for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "Slow down and tell me again, you know all of this, how, exactly?"
"Did no one from the LA police department call you?"
"I don't know. I haven't checked any voicemail," the man admitted.
Jonathan sighed heavily. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped some buttons. "Jonathan Hart for Lieutenant Grey, please," he spoke into the device. When he was on hold, Jonathan turned to the detective and handed him the phone. "The Lieutenant wants to speak to you."