He stopped talking when Bailey started to hyperventilate. “Oh, God…no, please. Just let me go. I won’t—”
“Hey now, don’t work yourself up. I’d hate to have to—” He stood and left the room quickly, muttering the as he moved, “Maybe I shouldn’ta told ya. Didn’t think you’d get so freaked out…should be happy I’m not gonna kill you…dump ya in the lake.
Bailey tried to listen to his mutters as she stuck her head between her legs, fighting for breath.
Before she realized what was happening, he grabbed her entwined hands and tied something around her upper arm. When she saw the hypodermic needle clenched between his lips, she pulled away and scrambled to the other side of the bed. She tried to stand, but lost her balance and fell over due to her feet still being tied together. He pounced on her, sitting on her chest and twisting her arms so he could inject her. Bailey couldn’t do anything but fight for breath. He firmly clutched her arm, and, a second later, she felt the pinch. She screamed and gasped for air, but the next second, he was standing. She jerked away and sat up. “What…what’ve you done?”
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he grinned down at her. “Aw, yeah, girly, that will make you nice and relaxed.” A moment later, he took advantage and grabbed both her breasts.
She lifted her tied hands and screamed, “Get off!”
He chuckled and swiped a hand between her legs before he lifted it to his nose and sniffed. “Mmm…nice.”
“You bastard!”
His grin widened. “No worries. I have a job to do, girly, but you should probably get back up on the bed before that kicks in. It ain’t for the faint of heart, and it kicks in pretty quick.” As he said this, Bailey’s head started to swim, and her stomach rolled. She rested back against the bed and leaned sideways to throw up all the water she’d just drank.
“It’s okay. That happens on everyone’s first time.” He stepped forward and lifted her onto the bed before laying her sideways, facing the wall. “Enjoy the high,” he said through his gapped teeth.
Within seconds, an intense heat overcame her with a rush that made her dizzy. What the hell? She closed her eyes and tried to focus on something—anything, on his retreating footsteps—but she couldn’t fight it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ryan couldn’t believe how many people were waiting for them outside El Lago when they arrived a few hours later. It looked like the majority of South Lake Tahoe was there, waiting to help search for Bailey. A wave of relief, plus a little anxiety, swept through him. Relief because, with this many people looking, their chances of finding her had to go up tenfold. And the anxiety was there, too, because Ryan had no idea where to start or what to do first. He felt so overwhelmed.
Fortunately, for him, and for Bailey, he had friends. Smart, level-headed friends. Wade and Lucas jumped into action, setting up stations for different purposes. One station for the ground searchers, boots on the ground. They were the people willing to walk the trails, fields, and forest, starting from where they believed Bailey was last seen. The second station was for the people willing to drive around, looking in places out of reach for the ground searchers. Another station was for those who wanted to hand out flyers and talk to people, just to get the information out there. These people would stop at every business all around the lake. Another station was for a water search. At first, the idea of ‘water searchers’ made Ryan nauseous, but when he realized it was for boaters to cruise the lake, talking to other boaters, he got it.
Within two hours, everyone had a task, except for him. So far, he’d done little, except for greeting and thanking everybody he came in contact with. Finally, his dad and Lucas cornered him and gave him a job. He was to contact the police and Agent Sharpe and get any new information they might not have received and to also let the FBI know what they were doing to search for Bailey.
So, that’s what he did. He called—and got the man’s voicemail. Fuck. He waited a moment and tried again.
“Hello, Agent Sharpe, Ryan Walker here. Is it possible for you to call me back? I’d like to know what’s happening in your investigation into Bailey’s disappearance.” Ryan waited a beat then said, “I’m at the club, uh, El Lago. It’s near Stateline. We’re setting up a search center, and we need to know what you’ve found out. Please, please call me back as soon as you can.”
As Ryan disconnected the call, he glanced up at the big screen TV over the bar and stared in disbelief. The media was running full speed ahead on the Marianne Spatz story. “Marianne Spatz,” he said aloud, curious what it would feel like on his tongue. He’d just learned Bailey’s birth name this morning from the news reports. He shrugged toward the TV, not sure he liked that the world was learning about Bailey’s family before she was, but the more attention the story got, the better the chance of finding her.
It looked like they were talking about the family and showing pictures of what must have been Bailey’s siblings. Ryan quickly walked into the office and clicked on the TV before turning up the volume.
Most of it focused on Alex, Bailey’s biological father. He’d come from money, and everyone knew rich families fed the media. They slowly weaved through his history since Bailey’s disappearance as a newborn baby, focusing on his marriage and other children. Apparently, Bailey had two
