Dark and Deadly

rub all that money he stole from me in my face. You get it? Huh?”

The car lurched to a stop. “He stole it from me,” the man said, slamming his way out of the car. He jerked her door open, took her arm, and yanked her up. With a quick twist, he swung her legs out, and pulled her up to stand woozily at his side.

“I took the cloth away, so you should be coming around. Nice thing about that drug, it’s effective but fast acting. You’ll know me before I kill you. Just like Todd.”

The voice rang in her head. The voice…

He finished chatting up the Martins, and looked around the ballroom for Torie. He was ready to dance. With her. Then, he decided, as soon as he could, he was going to steal her away, up to the room he’d reserved. There was already champagne chilling, and more flowers. Maybe somehow, between her change of heart and his abject groveling, she would forgive him.

It might take a few more months of courting to heal the wounds he’d caused, but if he did it right, cared enough, loved enough, then perhaps she’d agree to marry him.

He thought of the ring he’d looked at earlier in the day. It would suit her.

He pressed open the door to the hallway, felt the rush of cooler air. It felt heavenly on his heated skin. Tuxedos were dashing, for sure, and fairly comfortable, but with all the dancing and alcohol, he was well warmed up.

Thinking of Torie again, he decided he was way past warmed up, and moving well toward open flame.

He saw Martha leaving the alcove marked for Ladies, and waylaid her. “Hey, Martha, you look lovely. Did you see Torie in there?”

“Thank you, Paul. No, no one else was in there.”

“Okay. If you see Torie, would you tell her—”

He didn’t get to finish. A shout went up from a nearby seating area. He turned in time to see Pratt toppling over, off the sofa, and onto the floor.

“Good Lord,” Martha exclaimed, and ran to help.

Suddenly, Paul had a terrible feeling in his gut. Torie was missing. Pratt was in trouble. He remembered the cops in the hotel lobby.

He had to find Torie. Now.

Rushing toward the reception area, he looked in every nook, every seating area, near all the phones.

A mansion employee came up, asking if he needed help.

“Have you seen a woman from the party? She’s wearing a dark blue short dress. Long blond hair. She was taking a phone call,” he said, putting his hand to his ear as if answering the phone.

“Ah, yes. She went out the door, there.”

The young man pointed to an exit which led into the gardens, and Paul wasted no time. Whipping out his own cell phone, he rolled through calls till he found Tibbet’s, then redialed.

“Tibbet, it’s Jameson. Torie’s missing. Old man Pratt collapsed, and I can’t find Torie.” Damn, he was repeating himself. Where was she? Why couldn’t he find her?

“You’re sure? She’s not just—” He cut himself off. “You’re sure. Never mind.”

Paul rattled off the address. He heard Tibbet start his car.

“Hang tight,” Tibbet said. “I’m sending black and whites. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

His dress shoes rang on the concrete walkway as he searched for Torie. A bench loomed out of the semi- darkness, and he heard the faintest sound of voices.

On the ground, half-buried in a flower bed, was Torie’s phone.

“Hello? Who is this?” Paul demanded.

“Paul, is that you?”

“Pam? What’s going on? Where’s Torie?”

“I don’t know. She was there one minute, talking to us, then she was gone.”

“Us?”

“Dev’s back.”

“That’s good,” Paul acknowledged briefly, then hurried on. “How long ago?”

“A couple of minutes.”

Paul ran into the parking lot, spun in place checking the exits. Searching for any sign of Torie. Where the hell was Mike? He’d hired Mike to watch the exits, keep Torie in his sights.

As he worried, he searched. The driveways were long and twisting. Way off in the distance, he saw a car turn on its headlamps as it sat at the traffic light. When the light shifted to green, it turned left.

“I have to take the chance.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Somebody’s taken Torie. Kidnapped her. I think I saw him leaving. I gotta hang up, call Tibbet, and tell him where I’m going.”

“Call us,” Pam shouted as he turned that phone off and opened his own again.

“Jameson? That you?” A man hurried over, his tuxedo rumpled.