Double Take. Jenness Walker
Everywhere, she hurt.
“MacKenzie?”
“Mmm,” she said, not opening her eyes. She didn’t want to find out if they hurt, too.
“Oh, honey…”
“Mom.” Her lips were cracked. “You missed your flight. You didn’t need to come.” The days of needing her mother were past…and Mom hadn’t been there then, anyway.
“Oh, it was no bother. Somebody needs to take care of your houseplants until you come home.” She spoke in overly bright tones this time, and it was almost worse than when her voice had dripped with pity. “Did you see the flowers someone sent you? Beautiful roses for a beautiful girl.”
Ah, yes. There was the pity again.
Her suffering could have been over. Just a little longer in the water, and Kenzie would no longer have to wish she was the one who died and Mikey was the one who lived.
Kenzie finally opened her eyes to stare at the roses, not allowing herself to glimpse her mother’s expression. She’d learned to read her well, but at this moment she didn’t want to know what lay between the lines in her mother’s furrowed brow.
“Is there a card?”
Her mother’s graceful fingers stretched toward the vase and rotated it. “Nothing.”
“Did you…see who brought them?” The man who’d saved her? She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t missed him, yet hoping he had come.
“They were here when I arrived.”
“Mmm.” Kenzie turned her face toward the ceiling and blinked as the tiles swam out of focus.
“Are you okay? Anything I can do for you?”
“I’m fine. Thanks. Just need sleep.” The blankets weighed her down until they smothered the incessant beeping and the aching pain.
Someone rapped on the door, then cracked it open.
Kenzie held her breath, fighting the urge to run. No one would hurt her here. The kidnappers had made their escape. That’s all they’d wanted, right?
But she closed her fingers around the television remote—some weapon—and slowly turned her head. A police officer stood just inside the doorway, his expression grim and tired.
“Miss Jacobs?”
“Yes.” Letting go of the remote, Kenzie drew her blankets close, then adjusted her bed until she was sitting up.
“I’m Detective Parker. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
She was too tired to dredge up yesterday’s nightmare, but, pasting on a smile, Kenzie nodded.
The policeman came around the bed and opened the blinds slightly, then scooted a chair close. Out of his briefcase came a black folder with a legal pad, a bulky pen, a digital recorder.
Her eyes drifted closed, exhausted by the mere sight of his equipment.
“Miss Jacobs.” The detective’s kind voice pulled her from the edge of sleep. “I don’t want to put off this interview since the more we know, the more likely we are to make arrests. But if you’re not up to it…”
“No, please. Wouldn’t want to hold up justice.” She meant it, but her eyelids did not want to cooperate.
Finally they fluttered open, and she found the man settling into his chair, legs crossed and folder propped just so. He’d done this before. Caught lots of criminals. If she could just stay awake, she could help him catch more. Then this whole thing would be over and life could get back to normal. Whatever that was.
Maybe now she’d have something new to mix in with her old nightmares. She still felt the gun against her temple, the rope chafing her wrists, the water lapping around her shoulders. Maybe because she relived it every time her eyes closed.
Detective Parker cleared his throat. “Miss Jacobs, I want you to run through everything that happened yesterday, but first, can you describe the men who took you?”
“No.” From now until the moment the camo guy and his smooth-accented boss landed behind bars, she’d probably suspect every male who came within twenty feet of her.
As if her dating life wasn’t bad enough already.
“I was blindfolded most of the time, but…” She allowed her eyes to close again, brought up the image of the bus and talked about what she’d seen, felt, heard. She told him about the leather jacket and sinewy arm locked around her shoulders. The ski mask and how that, almost more than the gun, gave the man a twisted and terrifying appearance. She hadn’t noticed his eye color; the glint of metal had been a stronger draw for her gaze.
“There were two men.” A shudder shifted the blanket. Kenzie clenched it in her fists, chilled once again. “The man with the camouflage jacket must have driven the van away, while the man with the leather jacket took me to…to the boathouse. But everything’s kind of hazy. I blacked out when they put me in the trunk of a car, and when I woke up, I was in the water. That…that’s all. I’m sorry.”
“You’re doing fine. Do you think—”
“Wait…” She paused with her eyes tightly closed. Remembering. Shadows filled her mind. A blur of black and gray and white-hot pain. “At the boathouse, I think I came to for a moment when the man with the accent took off my blindfold. Just before he—” She choked back an unexpected sob.
“Take your time, Miss Jacobs.”
A gulping breath. Warm air filled her lungs, and she found the strength to focus again on the vague memory. “So dark, but he must have had a flashlight. I saw…”
She was flopped over his knee, one of his arms steadying her while his other pulled the blindfold free. Legs untied, wrists bound more tightly, but in front of her now.
Her breath came faster. She was falling. Knees hit the deck hard. Turned her head as her hands—forced out over the water—touched metal. Caught a glimpse of dark hair, lighter neck, white scar.
Then she plunged into the icy water.
A quick gasp. No. She was okay now. But the tremors took over again. And, as she tried to recount the day through chattering teeth—every exhausting and excruciating detail—she wondered if she’d ever really feel safe again.
SEVEN
Cole stopped at the end of the corridor and stared at the number on MacKenzie’s hospital room. He fingered the get-well card, wishing he’d thought to purchase flowers, as well. Maybe he should go to the gift shop—
Too late. The door swung open. Detective Parker stepped out.
Cole stood tall, not bothering to force a smile.
“She’s pretty tired,” the detective finally said, his steely eyes giving a silent warning.
Cole didn’t flinch. “I won’t be long.”
“Good.” Parker gave him a pointed look. “She’s been through a lot.”
Time for that fake smile. “That’s why I’m here.”
A short nod, and the detective finally walked away—probably no farther than a vacant chair in the hall. Cole took a breath, then stepped into the room, leaving the door partially open behind him. He had nothing to hide. MacKenzie lay silent, her eyes closed. He should leave, let her rest undisturbed, but his feet remained planted to the floor at the foot of her bed. His chest ached as he scanned her for signs of her ordeal—pale skin, a bandage taped to her left temple—
Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. A gasp escaped her chapped lips, stabbing his conscience as her dark-blue eyes widened in shock.
“I’m sorry, MacKenzie.” Why had he stayed? Staring at her while