False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [92]
“Surprised to hear from me?” Cowan laughed. “I’d love to see the expression on your face. Did you think you could get away from me?”
Pierce slid his index finger across his throat. “Don’t talk to him,” he whispered. “Tell him he has the wrong number and hang up.”
“Excuse me, who is this?” Zoe said.
“You know exactly who it is. I’m the guy that’s going to make a totem pole of you, if you don’t have my hundred grand ready to wire before the banks close. I told you I would call you and give you an account number. Get out your pencil and—”
“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” Zoe disconnected the call and dropped the phone on the air mattress, her hands shaking. “How d-did he get this number?”
Pierce jumped to his feet. “He could only have gotten it from Vanessa or Ethan. And since Vanessa’s missing, we have to assume he got her to talk.”
The phone rang again. Both she and Pierce stared at it.
“Just let it ring,” he said.
“I don’t think we should make him mad.” Zoe brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I’m sure he recognized my voice. We’re not fooling him.”
“He’s manipulative, Zoe. I don’t want you talking to him. I don’t like it one bit that he was able to get this number.”
“You think Vanessa told him where we are? Maybe we should leave.”
“And go where?” Pierce’s eyebrows came together. “Cowan wants his money. He’s not going to jeopardize that until the deadline. I don’t think we have any choice but to wait for Jude’s deputies to get here.”
Vanessa trudged forward on the narrow path between cane stalks, her shoes getting hung up in the cumbersome weeds, the rain drenching her and making it hard to see. At least Shapiro would be having the same problem. How deep was she into the field? How much farther to the other side? What if she couldn’t find her way out? What if she was trapped in here?
Trapped? Vanessa took a shallow breath. And then another. And another. Why did it feel as if her throat were closing off? Why couldn’t she get air? Her pulse raced. She could not afford a panic attack. Not here. Not now.
You can do this. You have to do this. Don’t give in to claustrophobia. Think about where you’re going—not where you are.
Vanessa kept moving, her hands in front of her, keeping the wet leaves from slapping her face.
She had told Ethan over three hours ago that she was going to Rouses Market and use the pay phone to call Zoe. Surely he had called her cell number since, worried that she hadn’t returned his calls. And wouldn’t Lindsay Corbin have called him when she didn’t show to pick up Carter? Was Ethan concerned enough to call the sheriff? Had he figured out that the man whose stares made her uncomfortable was Shapiro?
Lord, it’s just You and me.
At least the rain had temporarily stopped the mosquitoes from feasting on her—a welcome relief, considering the other discomforts she was forced to endure. But when the storm was over, wouldn’t all her exposed skin become a banquet table for every biting insect?
Her shoes were soggy, and her big toe throbbed. Was she getting a blister? What had made her put on walking shoes this morning and not sandals? How could she have ever walked through this sugarcane field in sandals?
The rain let up considerably, and she picked up her pace and emptied her mind of how miserable she was, trying to stay focused on how much closer she might be to getting out of the sugarcane field and onto the Langley property.
Jude sat in his squad car in the private parking area behind Zoe B’s and keyed in the number for Ethan Langley’s cell phone. It only rang once.
“Hello.”
“Ethan, it’s Sheriff Prejean. Vanessa’s not in your apartment or at Zoe B’s. But Savannah Surette, one of the waitresses, said that just before nine this morning, a customer reported that the back door to the building was left wide open. I’ve got my deputies dusting for prints and looking for trace evidence. As of twenty minutes ago, Pierce and Zoe still hadn’t heard from Vanessa.”
“Something’s terribly wrong, Sheriff. You have to find her!”
“I will. But don’t assume the