[Alex Mercer 01.0] Girl in Trouble Read online

  They ran over, guns drawn, and one moved the shelf out of the way, knocking nearly everything over in the process. They all stormed into her bedroom.

  Zoey fell onto her couch and shook.

  One of the officers came out of the room and over to her. “The intruder escaped out the window.”

  “H-he’s gone?”

  “My two partners ran after him. I’m going to take a look around the apartment.”

  She nodded, too shaken to respond. Shouting sounded from outside. Something hit the outside of the building.

  A man ran inside the open front door. Zoey screamed, afraid it was the intruder again.

  “Zoey, it’s me. Alex.”

  Comfort

  Alex ran over to Zoey, who sat shivering on the couch. No wonder why—she was hardly wearing anything. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her.

  “How did you know to come here?” She stared at him with wide eyes.

  His heart softened seeing her so scared. He tightened the blanket around her. “Nick called me when he heard it was you.”

  “I was so scared.”

  He put his arm around her. “It’s okay now.”

  “Did they catch him?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s gone.”

  “Why’s he going after me? Is it the same guy?” She shook harder.

  Given the last threat, it was a good bet. “Let’s not worry about it right now, Zo.”

  “Not worry?” she exclaimed. “How can I—?”

  “I just mean we should focus on the fact that you’re safe. Your window’s broken?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll board that up for you until you can get it replaced. I—”

  A cop came over to them. “No one’s inside. I know you’re upset, but I’m going to need to take your statement.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” Alex asked. “I’ll try to fix the window while you talk to him.”

  The officer stared at him. “It’s a crime scene. You can’t touch it.”

  “It’s her room. She needs to feel safe.”

  “I’ll never feel safe here again,” Zoey muttered.

  “You can fix the window once we’re done processing everything.”

  Another officer came inside and turned to the cop next to them. “He got away on foot.”

  “Would you process the bedroom?” Alex snapped. “I want to fix her window.”

  “You are?”

  “A friend.”

  Zoey nodded.

  “Were you here when this happened?”

  “No,” Alex said. “I came after Captain Fleshman called to let me know what was going on.”

  “You know the captain?”

  “Yeah, Nick and I go way back.” Alex stared the officer down, daring him to continue being a pain in the neck.

  The second officer turned to the first “I’ll process the room while you take her statement.”

  “How long’s this going to take?” Alex asked.

  “Maybe twenty minutes. Depends.”

  Alex rose. “My dad has the stuff to board up the window. If I’m not back when you’re done, stay with her. I don’t want her to be alone.”

  Zoey gave him a grateful look.

  “Sure.” The cop pulled out a tablet and turned to Zoey, asking her about the intrusion.

  Alex glanced back over at Zoey as he headed out. Seeing her so scared made her look like she was much younger—like she was the girl he’d fallen in love with so long ago. Like she was the girl he’d let down.

  He shook off that memory and headed home, grabbing what he needed from Dad’s garage, and then returning to Zoey’s condo.

  The officer rose from the couch. “We’re all done here. Do what you need to for the window.”

  Alex gave a slight nod. “Thanks.”

  They left. Alex locked the door and set the stuff down. “Are you okay?”

  Zoey shook her head. “I can’t ever stay here again.”

  He sat next to her. “Maybe you’ll feel different in the morning.”

  “I won’t! I’m not getting a ground floor unit ever again.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll get the window boarded up so your stuff will be safe at least.” He got up, grabbed the stuff, and went into her room.

  It was a disaster with glass and clothes all over the place. He stepped over everything and hammered the plywood over the window. Once it was done, he gathered up the pieces of glass, dumping them into a small, white trash bin with the Eiffel Tower painted on the side. A portrait of the landmark hung over the bed. Clearly, she still loved Paris.

  He wondered if she had ever made it there. More than likely her golden boy had taken her. Mr. Perfect had probably flown her out for their first date.

  Alex shook his head and shone his cell phone’s flashlight around the room, looking for any remaining shards of glass. A tiny piece shone from the carpet near the molding. He picked it up and continued scanning the room. She would have to vacuum to be sure to get it all, but for the time being, he couldn’t find anything else.

  Peeking back out into the living room, he saw her sleeping. As tempting as it was to crash himself, he couldn’t. Not here. He picked up some photos and knickknacks that had fallen on the ground.

  The first picture was one of Ariana at the beach, laughing at the shore. Alex’s heart constricted. How much of her life had he missed? And would he get the chance to make up for lost time? He set it on the nightstand and picked up another by the dresser. Zoey and Golden Boy both holding glasses of champagne and gazing at each other like they adored each other wholeheartedly. He put it face down on the dresser.

  Another frame lay half-under the dresser. This one was of Zoey, Ariana, and Golden Boy in front of a Christmas tree. They looked so happy—like the perfect family.

  He put that frame face down, also, and picked up the other random stuff lying around. Finally, only clothes remained. He threw some jeans into the laundry basket. Then a pair of boxers. His stomach twisted, but again, what did he expect? Alex gathered the rest of the clothes without paying attention to what they were and tossed them in the basket.

  The room wasn’t perfect, but at least it was better. Zoey wouldn’t have to be reminded of the intrusion—at least not too much. If she wanted, he could help her replace the window. Unless of course, Golden Boy jumped in, which he probably would. The only reason he wasn’t there instead of Alex was because Nick had called him.

  Past

  Alex woke in a leather recliner, confused. He looked around the unfamiliar room, until his gaze landed on the empty white leather couch and the black knit blanket that had been wrapped around Zoey.

  He lowered the chair, got up, and stretched. A shower sounded from somewhere in the condo.

  His stomach rumbled. Zoey had to be hungry, too. He went to the fridge and found some eggs and bacon. There wasn’t much he could cook, but frying things was simple enough.

  By the time she stepped out of her bedroom, Alex was almost done with the breakfast—the coffee was even done brewing. He was pretty proud of himself. It was a lot better than the fast food he usually picked up on the way to work.

  She gave him a double-take. “You made breakfast?”

  “Thought you might be hungry after everything.”

  Zoey scrunched her damp hair. “I am. Hey, thanks for picking up my room. I assume it wasn’t the cops.”

  “No, they probably made it worse than Flynn.”

  She arched a brow. “You’re on a first-name basis with my attacker?”

  “I got another threat yesterday. There’s no way it’s a coincidence.” He slid the last egg onto a plate with several pieces of bacon and another egg, and he handed it to Zoey.

  “You really think the same guy who took Ariana did this to me and also hit Macy?”

  “We’re getting close.” Alex grabbed his plate and set it on the table across from Zoey and then filled two mugs with coffee. He gave her the one with the E
iffel Tower etched on the side. “Still into Paris.”

  She nodded and sipped the coffee.

  Alex took a piece of bacon and sat. “Is it as magical in person as you always hoped?”

  Zoey shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You haven’t been there?”

  She shook her head and cut an egg.

  Maybe Golden Boy wasn’t as perfect as he appeared. Speaking of the devil, why hadn’t he come to check on her yet?

  They ate in silence. He studied her from the corner of his eye. She seemed far more vulnerable than usual, reminding him of when she was younger. He longed to run his fingers through her hair, down her soft cheek, and to finally place his mouth over her soft lips.

  He shoved his desires away.

  Zoey set her fork on the empty plate. “Thanks for everything, Alex. I…” Her voice trailed off.

  “It was nothing.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” She held his gaze. “You didn’t have to, and I didn’t want to be alone.”

  “I had to do something. At least now you feel safe again. You can keep living here.”

  She shook her head. “The only reason I could sleep is because… Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Because you were here.”

  His eyes widened. She looked away and slid her finger around her phone’s screen.

  She felt safe because he was there? Even after everything they’d been through?

  The silence seemed to scream.

  He squirmed in his seat. “Do you want me to take you shopping for windows?”

  “I should call my insurance company. It might be covered.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned to him, her eyes wide and her expression even more vulnerable. “What happened that night?”

  He twisted the hem of his shirt, not wanting to talk about the night he’d screwed everything up with her, and changed the subject. “Like I said, Fleshman called me about the break in. I came right over—”

  “Not last night. When we broke up.” Her expression held sadness rather than anger and bitterness.

  Alex’s shoulders slumped. “I was an idiot. Worse than that.”

  She sighed. “It was a long time ago. We both need to move past it, but I need to know why. Why did you do it?”

  He felt like added weight had been placed on his shoulders, but this was his chance to apologize. “Zoey, I’m really sorry. I know that doesn’t change anything, but I am. I’ve always regretted walking away from you.”

  She frowned, but didn’t say anything.

  Alex searched for the right words. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about that night. What he did remember were the harsh words that spewed from his drunk mouth. The things he’d said to her… they were things nobody deserved, much less her. There was no excuse for the things he’d said. “I wish I could take back all the things I said. That and abandoning you when you needed me most.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What about cheating on me?”

  Alex’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “What?”

  “Don’t you regret cheating on me?” Pain filled her eyes.

  The room spun around Alex. “I never cheated on you.”

  “But… but… yeah, you did.”

  He shook his head. “I swear on my life I’d never do that to you.”

  They stared at each other.

  “What about Amanda Culbertson?”

  “Amanda?” Alex exclaimed.

  Zoey nodded. “Everyone said you slept with her.”

  “That explains why she slapped me in English class.” Alex rubbed his face and held Zoey’s gaze. “I was horrible to you. Those things I said to you…” He shuddered. “But no, there was no one else. Not before you dumped me, and not for a long time after that. I didn’t want anyone else.”

  “You never cheated?” she whispered.

  “Never. And I didn’t mean any of the crap I said about you, either. You and Ariana are the best things to happen to me.” And now it was too late. Ariana was gone and Zoey was engaged to Golden Boy. They would have the perfect wedding and then little angelic children, finally giving Ariana the siblings she’d always wanted when she returned. Alex would go back to his one-track existence building roofs and drinking his pain away.

  Zoey opened her mouth and then closed it.

  “What?”

  She picked at a nail and then looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I always thought you had betrayed me in the worst way.”

  He found himself wanting to walk around the table and wrap his arms around her. To smell her sweet perfume and to taste her kisses. If only one of a thousand things had turned out differently.

  Alex cleared his throat. “You should call Kellen. Does he know what happened?”

  “Alex, he—”

  Zoey’s phone sounded and his buzzed. Alex’s heart plummeted. If it was another threat, he was going to lose it. He whipped out his phone. It was from his dad.

  Turn on the news.

  Alex exchanged a worried expression with Zoey. They hurried over to the TV and she flipped it on. The newscaster spoke too fast to understand—or was it because Alex’s mind was spinning?—but he managed to read the ticker at the bottom of the screen.

  Someone had confessed to the kidnapping.

  Confession

  Nick stared at the full interrogation room from the other side of the mirrored glass. The young, slightly heavy-set Hispanic man looked nothing like the description Alex had given of the skinny, balding white guy who’d taken Ariana. The only way this made any sense was if he was the guy Alex had bumped into at the grocery store after confronting Myer, and that was a stretch. Sanchez was too young to have started killing thirty years earlier.

  Williams threw question after question at the man. He remained in his seat, unflinching and with his heavily-tattooed arms folded across his chest. He answered everything perfectly, even giving details the media hadn’t been privy to—which at this point wasn’t much.

  Anderson turned to Nick. “What do you make of this guy? Is Juan Sanchez our killer?”

  “He has all the right answers.”

  “But he doesn’t match the suspect.” Anderson leaned against the table. “The dad has been consistent in his description of the abductor.”

  “Oh, I know.” Alex was still convinced Flynn had Ariana. Nick wasn’t ready to write the guy off yet, either, despite his airtight alibi.

  “Williams seems pretty happy,” Anderson said.

  “Of course she is. She hasn’t put an ounce of stock in Alex’s description since day one.”

  “You think it’s Myer, still?” Anderson sipped from a foam cup.

  “Or someone who looks a hell of a lot like him.”

  Anderson nodded. “This guy doesn’t strike me as a kidnapper, either.”

  “So, why’s he confessing to a crime that could put him behind bars for life?” Nick studied the guy, who still sat in the same position he’d been in for the last half hour, answering the rapid-fire questions without breaking into a sweat.

  “Maybe he’s getting paid off or blackmailed. Who knows? If he’s not our guy, we have to find a way to prove it—and fast. It’s sickeningly close to Halloween.”

  “That it is.” But how could they prove Juan Sanchez was just a distraction while the real kidnapper was preparing his kill?

  Nick walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Anderson asked.

  “To find the real perpetrator.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do.” Nick left and let the door slam behind him. He really had his work cut out for him now. Williams and her partners were eating up everything Sanchez said in there. Nick wouldn’t believe the man until he saw Ariana alive and well. He wasn’t going to waste valuable time on a false confession when a real killer was out there.

  Cheers sounded from the other end of t
he building. Did they really believe it was over now?

  The girl was still missing.

  He followed the noise and glared at the jovial officers. “There will be no celebrating until Ariana is back home with her family. Do you understand?”

  Their faces all turned serious.

  “I mean it. We don’t slow down until she’s found.”

  “But Sanchez—”

  “But nothing,” Nick corrected. “We don’t have the girl. We don’t know where she is or what she’s enduring. Until we have those answers, we keep looking. Got it? Sanchez is a distraction, and nothing else. Now get to work.”

  They grumbled, but dispersed.

  Nick’s phone rang. He left the room and checked the caller ID. It was Alex. Clearly, he’d heard the news. Sanchez had announced his confession on social media before going to the station. Nick went into his office and closed the door. “Hi, Alex.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “You must mean Sanchez.”

  “Who else?” Alex exclaimed. “What part of old white guy don’t you guys understand?”

  Nick took a deep breath. “We have to follow every lead, no matter how ridiculous.”

  “Has he handed over Ariana?” Alex demanded.

  “No. The FBI team is questioning him now.”

  “And they really think that joker is the kidnapper?”

  “I won’t know until they’re done,” Nick said. “How’s Zoey?”

  “Shaken, but more upset about this. What’s it going to take for you guys to follow the right lead?”

  “We still have people looking into everything else. Trust me, the investigation has not been put on hold.”

  “It better not be.”

  “The team and I are still looking for possible leads in the cold cases. We’ve narrowed down the lakes we think could be used this time. Looking into other clues, as well. We’re going to keep pressing forward until we recover Ariana. But I need to get going. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

  “Like you did with this?” Alex accused.

  “First of all, this place is a circus right now, and second, we both know Sanchez isn’t a real lead.”

  “Okay, but next time, let me know, anyway.”