False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [81]
“Can you promise us there’s no way Shapiro can find out?” she said.
“Absolutely.”
“We’re out at Langley Manor,” Pierce said. “Ethan set us up in the back bedroom on the ground level—we’ve got sleeping bags, food and water, even a battery-operated fan. No one can see the light on from the front of the house. Not even your patrol.”
“Which I’ve had to temporarily suspend,” Jude said. “Every available officer is needed to keep the peace and help investigate.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Pierce said.
“Stay put and lay low. Zoe, the clothes you had on the night Shapiro threatened you … have you washed them?”
“No, they’re in the laundry hamper in our bathroom.”
“Good. I’d like your permission to go in and retrieve them. We might find valuable DNA on them that could tell us who this guy is.”
“All right. I was wearing red capris and a red-and-white floral tank top. You can’t miss them. There’s mud all over the back. And Shapiro smeared my blood across the front of the tank top with his finger. My Nikes are in the closet. The soles have mud caked on them.”
“What about the notes Shapiro left you?”
“They’re stacked neatly in my lingerie drawer. Take those, too. Jude, come to think of it, he might have touched the door to the office when he slipped a couple of the notes under the door.”
“We’ll dust for prints, but our best chance of getting usable DNA is your clothes and those notes.”
Vanessa broke out in a cold sweat, her heart pounding with raw terror. She finally stopped panting and tried to breathe normally.
“We haven’t officially met,” the man said. “The name’s Shapiro.”
“What do … you … want?”
“Tell me where I can find Zoe and Pierce Broussard.”
“They’ve been gone … all weekend,” Vanessa said.
“Why didn’t they take their cell phones?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they wanted … some time alone.”
“Well, the weekend’s over. Why aren’t they back?”
“You should ask the people who work for them.”
“I’m asking you.” Shapiro grabbed her by the hair and held her tightly against the headrest, pressing a knife blade to her throat. “I promise you, you do not want to mess with me. If you want to see your kid alive, you’d better start talking.”
How could he know where Carter was? Should she give up Zoe and Pierce, just like that, knowing he would kill them? The image of Zoe’s bleeding face popped into her mind and made her shudder. Would he cut her, too, until she talked—and then kill her the minute she told him what he wanted?
Lord, please help me! I don’t know what to do!
“Well?” She felt a sting and realized he was cutting her neck ever so slightly with the knife blade. She felt as if she were going to lose her breakfast.
She clamped her eyes shut. “Please … I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
“Then tell me what you do know.” His voice was deep and raspy. No hint of the Texas accent Zoe described. “Where did the Broussards go? If you want to go on living and get your kid back unharmed, tell me now!”
Vanessa trembled, a drop of perspiration trickling down her temple. There was no way Shapiro knew where Carter was. Wouldn’t he have had to follow Ricky’s parents home after they picked him up on Sunday? Why would he do that before he even had a reason to suspect Zoe and Pierce weren’t going to give him the money? Surely he was bluffing.
“Where are they?” Shapiro said. “I’m running out of patience!”
“The Broussards are my landlords. I’ve only known them a few weeks. Why would they tell me their plans?”
“You live across the hall from them. People always tell a neighbor when they’re going to be out of town.”
“I hardly know them.” Could he tell her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest? “If I knew where they were, why would I risk my son’s life—or mine—by not telling you?”
“Beats me. But you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?” You’ll kill us all, that’s why. “It makes no sense! Please, I’m begging you—you’re making a huge mistake. I can’t tell you something I don’t know.”
“Have it your way, Vanessa. This is going to get very unpleasant. But you are