“Custody? No. We were here to question a witness.”

  “So, how did you two get separated?” the first man drawled, hooking his thumbs in his belt and tilting his head as if amused.

  “Look,” Emily said firmly, “he was down here by my patrol car. I saw him from that window.” She pointed. “Somebody came up behind him while we were on the phone and cut us off. That’s all I know.”

  “All right.” The big man pointed left and then right. “We’ll split up from here. You go down the center.”

  Agreeing that the plan was as effective as any, Emily nodded and took off jogging. She didn’t want to go too fast and miss a clue, but she also didn’t want to delay. Something inside her kept insisting that passing seconds were critical.

  Ambient noise created a hum around her while her pulse hammered in her ears. An engine revved to her left. Tires squealed. A small, dark blue sedan fishtailed at the exit and raced out into the street, causing passing drivers to brake and honk their horns.

  Emily jumped onto a curb, straining to see better as the car passed a mere thirty feet away. The passenger’s hair was bright red and so thick and curly it partially obscured the driver.

  Was that Noah behind the wheel, or was she seeing things because she so desperately wanted to?

  A man shouted. Emily whipped around, losing sight of the departing vehicle. One of the guards was waving something black and yelling at her.

  He’d found Noah’s bulletproof vest.

  TWENTY

  Emily was on the phone to her chief while she and the guards returned to the facility. “Yes, sir,” she said. “We have every reason to believe Noah Holden has just been abducted. We’re on our way to check the video from the parking lot cameras.”

  “All right. I’ll coordinate with Memphis police and highway patrol. As soon as you have anything solid, we’ll move.”

  “My car is out of commission,” Emily admitted ruefully. “I’ll need to hitch a ride with one of their units.”

  “Copy. Keep me posted.”

  The security office was little more than a cubbyhole. Three monitors focused on the parking lot. Some rapid movement was taking place as the guard on duty reversed the necessary recording, but it was impossible to get a clear enough picture to read the license plate of the car they suspected. The only clues they could make out were the blue color of the car and the red of someone’s hair.

  Crestfallen, Emily reported to her chief, then rode the elevator back to the second floor. She had been fighting tears ever since she’d first seen Noah being approached by the stranger, and the feeling of dread and loss kept growing.

  One look at Vangie Mead’s face, however, lifted her spirits. “I remembered something,” the young blonde woman said.

  “About Noah?”

  “No. Somebody else.” She was pointing at a freeze-frame on the computer screen. “That’s Roz Carpenter Banfield. See how she looks mad at the world? She was always grumpy. That’s what made me remember her.”

  Emily checked the timeline at the bottom of the video and made note of the number of that particular file, then phoned her chief. “We have a lead,” she began. “Vangie, Ms. Mead, has identified that suspicious character seen watching Noah in one of the videos from his college days. It’s Roz—probably short for Rosalind—Carpenter Banfield.”

  “All right. I’ll see that a search for her is done immediately. Stay available. It shouldn’t take long.”

  If Emily hadn’t been with others, she would have let herself weep for joy. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “One more thing,” Rowlings said. “The driver of the truck the officers pulled over for following you wasn’t carrying ID, so it took awhile to get a name. It was Buddy Corrigan.”

  “Him? Why him?”

  “That’s unknown. We’re looking for a connection to Nat Porter, and I’ll add the Banfield woman.”

  “Okay, keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  Emily ended the call and turned to Vangie again. “Do you know anybody named Buddy Corrigan?”

  “No. Was he in college with us, too?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s lived in Paradise for as long as I’ve known him.” Emily switched subjects. “Did you ever see this Roz woman with bright red hair?”

  When Vangie shook her head, Emily was disappointed. “Okay. I’m going to go downstairs to wait for reinforcements.” She focused on the female guard. “Please keep an eye on our witness until you hear otherwise.”

  “Will do. Good luck,” the guard said.

  “I don’t believe in luck,” Emily vowed while her heart called out to God for wisdom, “but I do believe in taking action when it’s called for. My cell number is on this card. Be sure to call me if Ms. Mead remembers anything else.”

  With that, she was out the door and headed for the lobby again. Each step served as a word of prayer, each breath confirmation that she was finally on the right track. She had to be. They had to be. Because Noah was gone, and it was her fault.

  * * *

  “Slow down before we get pulled over for reckless driving,” Noah’s captor ordered.

  “I figured you’d want to get away fast.”

  “We don’t have to speed. It’s not far.”

  “Oh? Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere quiet where we can talk, and no pretty blondes will distract you.”

  “Has that been a problem in the past?” The laugh she gave in reply was so cynical, Noah got chills. “I’m—I’m really bad with names. Sorry. What should I call you?”

  “Darling would be nice.”

  “Sure, sure. I just thought a name would help me remember better. I know we were friends once.”

  “Not as close as I’d have liked, but I’ve fixed that now.”

  “That you have...”

  “Roz. You can call me Roz or Linda.”

  “Ah, Rosalind,” he said softly. “I do remember.”

  “Liar.”

  Noah did his best to appear calm. “Not at all. You used two last names, if I recall.”

  That brightened her countenance enough to assure him he’d guessed correctly, which was a relief of sorts. If he could remember that much, perhaps someone else would also identify this unbalanced woman. Sorting through his memory brought little additional information, so he chose to remain silent rather than make a mistake and upset her again.

  “My gramma left me her place. I was positive I should keep it, and now I know why. It’ll be ours, yours and mine. I know we can be happy there.”

  Noah held his peace. His idea of happiness had little in common with that of his captor, especially when it came to the people in his life. The more close brushes with death he experienced, the more he realized he’d closed himself off from life and the more he viewed Emily as an essential part of his future. If it wasn’t too late.

  His mouth was dry, his hands perspiring on the wheel. Every second he lived brought him closer to surviving this ordeal. There was no guarantee that his wishes for the future were in line with those of his Heavenly Father, although he hoped they were. Faith provided an avenue of prayer, but the answers that resulted couldn’t be predicted. That was what faith was all about, he reminded himself: letting go and trusting God.

  “Make a left at the next traffic light,” Roz said.

  A brief glance in the mirrors showed Noah that they were not being followed, and his spirits sagged. Had somebody found his discarded vest yet? Had the security system at the rehab hospital captured the license number of this car? Was there any way Emily could track him?

  Suddenly, his heart leaped. Yes! His cell phone was still active. Even if no one figured out who had kidnapped him, the phone’s signal should bring help. Eventually.

  Continuing to feign calm, he reminded himself that a successful rescue depended on his staying alive despite a gun in the hands of someone so confused and obsessed. Wrestling it out of her grasp was an option. So was drawing his own hidden firearm. The problem with both of those ideas was the high probability that Roz would get off a shot before he was able to disarm her. Not only did he have himself to consider, he had to protect innocent passersby the way he had when she’d forced him into the car.

  The best choice at this point was pretending to cooperate, Noah reasoned. Until everyone was in the clear, he needed to bide his time, what there was left of it, and wait for the right opportunity to act. The only problem with doing that was keeping control of his nerves and quelling the urge to go on the offensive. He knew he could probably escape if he was willing to hurt his captor, really hurt her. If all other options were gone, perhaps he would, yet memories from his past kept insisting he not cause others pain. If he’d learned anything by watching his abusive father, it had been to resist any tendencies to lose his temper and lash out.

  “Turn left at the signal and keep going.” Roz gestured with the barrel of the gun. “In about five miles, we’ll come to a dirt road by a mailbox. That’s where we’re going.”

  Noah slowed and followed her directions. He’d been speeding in the hopes a traffic cop would pull them over. Now that that option was unlikely, he was in no hurry to reach their destination.

  “That driveway over there,” Roz finally said. “Pull through the gate.”

  Noah followed directions and stopped inside the yard, noting how isolated the property was. Her hand was resting on the door handle as if about to open it. If she got out to shut the gate, he might be able to throw the car into Reverse and back away before she could get off a shot. Was this his chance? Was it time?

  He silently asked God for confirmation. Instead of the opportunity he’d asked for, Roz reached over and removed the key from the ignition.

  * * *

  Emily introduced herself to the two Memphis police officers who met her in the parking lot. “Zwalt,” she said, repeating their names to reinforce her memory. “Robinson. Longacre. Thanks for your help.”

  Robinson was behind the wheel. “Where to?”

  “I only have one lead so far. The name I reported. Rosalind Carpenter Banfield.”

  “One Banfield came up in our records,” Longacre said. “What’s the connection to your possible abduction?”

  “Past history, we think,” Emily said, eyeing the rear seat with trepidation as she got in. “Let’s go.”

  As they pulled into traffic, Emily continued to fill them in. “Noah Holden was here in Memphis with me to help another witness identify people in an old video. He was armed. I don’t understand why he didn’t defend himself.”

  “Smart man,” Robinson said. Longacre was nodding. “Right. Starting a shoot-out in the middle of a city would have been idiotic. Your witness deserves a medal.”

  “I’d rather he thought of himself occasionally.” Emily was leaning forward in the rear seat of the police car and speaking between them. “He’s always too concerned about everybody else.”

  “Sounds like a great guy,” the cop behind the wheel commented.

  Emily struggled against the deep conviction that was washing over her. If she agreed that Noah was right, that meant she had to be wrong. This was more than a question of patience, wasn’t it? It was about altruism, about putting others first. Becoming a trained officer of the law had been her answer to the pain of loss, but somewhere along the way to earning a badge, she’d lost the ability to see both sides of an argument. Was that what Noah had been trying to demonstrate?

  Shaking herself free of such disturbing self-examination, Emily asked, “How much farther?”

  “We’re not sure we’ll find the person of interest at this address,” the driver’s partner cautioned. “It was the only property in or near here that carried that same last name.”

  “I know, I know.” And she did, but that didn’t mean she was ready to relax or give up. Noah wouldn’t have given up on her, would he? He’d proved that when he’d kept showing up in her life at the expense of his career. What Max would do when he got out of the hospital and realized how inefficiently Noah had been behaving on the job was unknown. She wouldn’t blame the older man for firing his protégé on the spot. And then Noah would surely leave Paradise. Again. This time perhaps for good.

  The minutes and miles passed rapidly as Emily pondered Noah’s dilemma and the way he’d handled being the key to identifying a killer. Anger didn’t seem to be part of his character, did it? That alone was impressive, although she couldn’t help wondering if he was simply good at hiding his true emotions. Many attorneys were. They had to be to function in court to the advantage of their clients.

  How Noah, or anybody else, managed to defend the guilty was beyond her, yet they did it. Getting a light sentence handed down to a dangerous criminal was, in her opinion, the same as excusing the crime, no matter who it hurt. How could she possibly be so fond of a man like that? she asked herself, realizing that her emotions were sabotaging the firm resolve she’d taken such pains to establish.

  Slowing alerted Emily. Their mostly white ride with two narrow blue stripes bracketing a gold one would have been less noticeable if it hadn’t sported a light bar across the top. Longacre picked up the mic. “Unit twelve on scene. Staging.”

  “Copy,” their dispatcher replied. “Records show your suspect inherited that property. Advise need for backup.”

  “Understood,” he said before looking back at Emily. “Wait here.”

  “What?”

  “This is our call. You know the drill. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

  “I lost the witness, and I’m going after him.” She pointed. “Unlock this door and let me out. Now.”

  The other officers didn’t open the door and release her until they had checked with their superiors and received orders to do so. Once she was out of the car, she made up her mind that any future ride-along would take place only if she was seated in front. Yes, she would let the locals precede her into the yard. No, she wouldn’t allow them to enter the house without her.

  “I know the victim well, and you don’t,” she told them as she followed their stealthy approach via a neighbor’s yard. “If it comes down to a split-second decision, I should be in the lead.” For a few long seconds, she thought they might disagree, but they both nodded.

  “We need to see what’s visible through the windows first,” Emily said. “If we spot more than one male, I’ll ID my witness for you. The woman should have bright red hair.”

  “Nice of her to pick a color that stands out like that,” Robinson quipped.

  Emily wasn’t amused. “If this person is who and what we suspect she is, there’s nothing nice about her.”

  “Violent serial killers aren’t usually women,” Robinson observed.

  “Yeah, well, we think this one is.”

  “No proof?”

  “Not until we take her prints and DNA,” Emily told them. “There were plenty of clues left behind. We just had nothing to compare them with.”

  “What does she want with your witness? Did he see her kill somebody?”

  Emily shuddered. “No. He knew her in the past, and it’s been suggested that she may be eliminating women she views as competition.”

  Longacre arched his eyebrows. “Pretty drastic. Holden must be a really good-looking guy.”

  “He’s a lot more than that,” Emily admitted. “His heart for people is extraordinary.”

  “Is that how he got himself into this mess?” Robinson asked as they closed in on the house.

  That possibility had not occurred to Emily, but it was plausible. Noah had always been likable, even as a much younger man with a chip on his shoulder. The mature man he had become was more than attractive to her, so why shouldn’t he appeal to other women, too?

  The concept of other women in Noah’s life hit her like a fist in the stomach, and for the first time since they’d started finding bodies in Paradise, she understood a little about what was driving Rosalind Banfield.

  Approaching the side of the small farmhouse, Emily raised on tiptoe to peer in a window, then quickly ducked back. “It’s him. He’s in there. Looks like she’s holding a gun.”

  “We should fall back and wait for backup,” Longacre whispered hoarsely. His partner agreed.

  “You can suit yourselves. I’m going in, with or without you.”

  “That may be the way you operate in a little town in Missouri, but that’s not how it’s done here.”

  She was adamant. “Fine. You can provide a distraction or not. It’s up to you.”

  Watching the two make eye contact and reading reluctant agreement, Emily nodded. “Thanks.”

  “If this goes sideways, it’s all on you,” Robinson said flatly. “The next unit is only a few minutes out.”

  “A few minutes may be all we have,” Emily said.

  Concerned looks on their faces were proof they thought so too.

  * * *

  The interior of the closed-up house smelled musty, and Noah could see dust motes drifting in beams of sunlight peeking between the slats of the window blinds.

  He waved a hand. “We should open some windows, air this place out.”

  “Shut up and sit down.”

  “Okay, okay. Take it easy. I was just trying to make it more comfortable in here. You said we’re staying, right?”

  “I decide,” Roz insisted. “I’m in charge now, and I’ll make the decisions for both of us.”

  “Sure. Fine.” He perched on the edge of a hard chair next to the kitchen table, making sure to keep plenty of room around him for ease of maneuvering. As long as his captor held a gun ready to shoot, he didn’t intend to rile her. Once she put it down, however, he’d be ready to take control of the situation. Noah didn’t think it would be long. Tension sapped a person’s strength, and maintaining absolute control had to be draining for his captor.