Chapter One

Kel Vain dropped the morning paper onto the kitchen table, turned to the counter, and poured a big mug of coffee. He had just come from an exhausting morning run; the exhausting part was courtesy of the repeated Jack Daniel's shots he’d tossed down last night. He took a bracing sip of the coffee as he walked back to the table and blinked as he swallowed the strong, acidic brew.

Sliding onto the padded seat of the nook, he took note of the cardinals feeding at the window tray just inches from where he sat. It was a beautiful spring morning, he just wasn’t eager for the full bright sunshine to pierce his fuzzy eyes. It was his own fault, he told himself. He knew better than this—liquor didn’t help. No amount of it could erase the memory of seeing a child’s lifeless body carried out of the woods or pulled from a river.

He wet his fingertips on the condensation from his orange juice glass and then used his dampened fingers to separate the sections of the morning paper. It was his habit to organize the paper before reading it: Sports page first, Money next, Local, then National. Classifieds and sales flyers were immediately tossed into the trash.

In the course of shifting the papers to the proper order, his eye was drawn to a picture on the front page of the Local Section. He blinked twice. Then his eyes opened wide with shock. He knew that woman. Without the benefit of having to read the tag line under the photo, he knew her to be Laura Wyndham, a classy Wilmington socialite whose family donated millions to local foundations and charities. He had adored this woman from afar for more years than he cared to count. And here she was, posing, regal as could be in a floor length gown, standing in the middle of a stage.

Nothing unusual about that, except that she was topless. The halter part of her gown had been undone and hung down in front of the full skirt of her ball gown. The newspaper, keeping with rigorous community standards, had placed black bars over the center of each of her breasts covering her nipples. His eyes remained wide as his sculpted, arrogant, dark brows lifted to meet the dark curl that fell across his forehead as he examined the picture. Then he forced his eyes lower to read the terse caption: “Socialite Laura Wyndham had an apparent ‘costume failure’ at last night’s Gala Fashion Show.” In the body of the accompanying article he read, “According to Sheila Barnstable who was sitting at a front table, ‘It was apparent to anyone sitting down front that she was purposely flaunting herself. She stood right in front of us, then she reached behind her neck and unclasped the top of her gown, letting it fall forward. We could all see her lips, those who cared to look away from her chest that is, as she slowly counted to ten. Then she cupped her breasts with her hands, turned and strode quickly off the stage. It was the strangest thing. I would never have expected that of her! Not in a million, zillion years.’”

Kel dropped the paper onto the table and jumped off the bench. He strode to the end of the counter and jerked open a drawer. He grabbed his holstered gun and badge case and ran to the garage. As usual, in his haste, he rapped his head on the doorjamb getting into his new cruiser and it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. These unmarked cruisers were getting downsized with every model year and he practically had to fold himself in half just to get in the damn things! He had to remember to ask the motor pool to give him one of the older ones.

He was snaking his way through traffic and speeding across town before he realized he was still in his sweaty jogging shorts and tank top. But it didn’t matter. He had to find her, and he had to find her right away. Because he knew, without a doubt, what would cause a woman as well bred as Laura Wyndham to do something as drastic and as foreign to her nature as exposing herself like that.

And his heart went out to her. How hard it must have been for her to get up the nerve to stand before her friends and neighbors, as well as the general public filling that huge ballroom, and stand completely topless. She was such a lovely woman, and to have to bare her breasts like that . . .. The thought sickened him. But with the next thought, an unwelcome prurient one, he had to briefly close his eyes and grimace. He was disgusted with himself when his mind recalled the picture, his imagination trying desperately to fill in the details the newspaper had tastefully covered.

He had thrown his blue light onto the roof of his unmarked car as soon as he’d pulled out of his driveway, and now, as he swerved around a pickup truck and ran a red light on South College, he cringed. God I hope it’s not too late. He stopped at the next intersection, thought for a moment, got his bearings, and jerked the wheel to the right. After a few more turns, he was headed down Masonboro Loop, his blue light flashing and siren whelping. It was quite a coincidence that he knew exactly where she lived now. But he did, since he was the officer who’d had the dubious honor of fingerprinting her and writing her up just two days ago when she’d been brought in for shoplifting. He’d been covering the desk while some street officers were qualifying at the firing range.

He should have known it then! Damn! He hit his fist on the steering wheel hard enough to crack the Lincoln insignia imbedded in the plastic. He’d known she wasn’t capable of shoplifting! He’d known something was off kilter, it just hadn’t dawned on him what. She wasn’t just some spoiled socialite—she was Laura, and she was above that kind of thing. He knew it. Deep down, he knew it. He’d been two years ahead of Laura when they’d attended Laney High School, and even though they hadn’t run in the same circles, he’d had plenty of opportunity to idolize her from afar. He watched her when she was with her friends chatting in the halls, cheerleading in front of the bleachers at basketball games, and speaking at assemblies as her class president. Once, he’d even gotten close enough to pick up a book she’d dropped. Her soft blue eyes and ready smile had mesmerized him then, and he’d envied the boys who were confident enough in their status to ask her out.

He remembered one Christmas concert when she’d sang a solo. It was Shubert’s version of “Ave Maria.” He had watched her from six rows back, constantly craning his neck to keep her in view as two girls in front of him jostled each other. Her eyes had sparkled and her lips had shone with a deep cherry gloss as she stood, hands clasped with fingers interlaced, looking up as if the words were written on the auditorium ceiling. She had looked like a dark-haired angel. The song still haunted him; he couldn’t hear the melody without remembering how lovely she’d looked that day. His Laura was special, always had been.

As he read the numbers on the mailboxes and realized he was getting close, he shut off the siren and removed the light. Then, at a conspicuously customized, bricked-in mailbox, he pulled off the road and followed the long, winding, gravel driveway. The narrow drive twisted several times and even reversed itself before he finally emerged in a large clearing.

Her house on the Intracoastal Waterway sat back from the lane, thirty feet beyond where the circular drive ended. He could just make out the green water of the Intracoastal behind the house through the trees along the sides. It was definitely a spectacular house, set high off the ground with massive double front doors at the top of a curving brick staircase. The same brick had been used to encase the mailbox at the road and provide a low wall around the landscaped lawn and flowerbeds. He stomped on the brakes, shoved the gearshift into park, and pulled out the keys. He slid his gun from the holster, shoved it into the waistband of his shorts, and grabbed his badge before forcing the car door open with his elbow. With the efficient moves of a man who’d done these maneuvers countless times, he scanned the area as he ran while clipping his badge to the waistband of his shorts. He banged on the solid wooden door. The sound reverberated off the triple-sized wooden porch, echoing in the high rafters as it wrapped around the sides of the house. He waited a few seconds and banged again, this time much harder.

He could smell the sweet perfume from the wisteria that was clinging to a decorative light pole leading to a walkway bordering the house. He noted that the carriage light had erroneously been left on. He stepped back a few feet and saw that all the outside lights were also on. On each corner, flood lights aimed out to the lawn and burned bright in the early morning sun. As Kel walked back to the door he spied a light for a doorbell peeking out behind an ivy planter. He punched it four times. Then he saw movement through the glass side panel, a shadow moved in the back part of the house. He continued to ring the bell repeatedly; over and over again, eight times, nine times, ten times . . . . He saw the darkened image move once more. Now the figure was leaning on a wall at the end of a long hallway, its head tipped all the way back, standing, waiting. Waiting for him to go away.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you, Mrs. Wyndham! You remember me, I’m Detective Vain. I saw you at the station this week. I’m the one who read you your rights and fingerprinted you for shoplifting. Now open this door!”

He watched through the glass as the slim woman, wearing what appeared to be a terry cloth bathrobe, slowly made her way to the foyer.

“I don’t want to talk to anybody. Please leave me alone.” Her voice was cultured and cool, but he could hear her falter on the word “alone.” He recognized the fear trembling in her voice and he was sickened with concern.

“You need to let me in. And you need to do it now before he sees me.”

Instantly, the figure in the darkness covered the remaining distance to the door. He heard the bolts click as they unlocked and the door abruptly opened. He pushed his way in, forcing her away from the opening. Then he quickly closed the door behind him and leaned back against it.

“Mrs. Wyndham, where is your daughter?”

Her eyes flew to his, saw understanding there, and she lost every ounce of the composure she had been trying to maintain for two days.

As tears came to her eyes, her hands flew to her cheeks. “He has her,” she whispered. Completely out of control now, she broke down. Hysterically sobbing, she screamed over and over. “He has her! Oh God, he has her! That monster has my baby!”

Kel reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He held her close and tried to comfort her by rubbing his hands up and down her back. He couldn’t help but notice the soft, powder-fresh fragrance that enveloped her and he was reminded of his own not-so-fresh redolence. He set her from him and gently wrapped his big hands around her upper arms as he ducked his head to look into her face. The tears streaming down her cheeks just about broke his heart. She was too beautiful a woman to cry; she looked like an angel who should have nothing more to worry about than playing a harp. He used his thumbs to wipe away the tears. But it didn’t do any good, they kept coming.

“We’ll get her back. Shhh, shhh. We’ll get her back, we will.” Then stupidly, he added, “I swear we will.”

He led her into a darkened part of the house, away from the sunny kitchen to a huge room on the right, toward what he assumed was the living room. The sun was on the back of the house, but here in the front it was all shadows and quiet coolness.

“You can’t be here,” she sobbed. “He said if I called the police, he’d kill her. You have to leave! Now!”

He continued to hold her by his side as he led her over to a comfortable-looking leather sofa. She felt warm and soft, and small, snuggled against his large body. He drew her powder-soft fresh scent deep into his lungs.

“There’s no way he’d know I’m a cop, my car’s an unmarked Lincoln and I’m wearing a sweaty jogging outfit for crying out loud!” He didn’t mention that he’d come brandishing a gun and a badge. He forced her to sit on the sofa, then sat beside her on the sectional where it turned so he could face her.

“Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning. I need to know everything if I’m going to be able to find her.”

“H . . . h-how did you know?” she stammered.

“I saw your picture in the paper this morning.” He watched as fresh tears filled her eyes and overflowed her lashes. She flushed scarlet with the memory of what she had done. Her hands covered her face as she dropped it into her lap.

“I could just die.”

“I knew the minute I saw the picture what had happened. A woman like you . . . well, there’d be no reason . . . .”

“I’d do anything for Kayla. Anything. But that was so hard. I don't honestly know how I did it. I just knew I had to. I . . . I . . .” Then the tears started again.

“I should have known something was wrong when they picked you up at the mall!” he slammed his fist into his palm. “A woman like you just doesn’t do that! Shoplifting lingerie! Did you want to get caught?”

“Actually, those were his instructions, I had to get caught.” Tears continued to stream down her face. She was swiping at them with the meager belt of her robe. “What am I going to do?”

He slid around beside her and took her hands in his.

“Start at the beginning. Tell me everything. When did you notice Kayla was missing and where is the note?”

A worried look creased her brow. If she gave it to him everyone would know what she’d had to do. She remembered the media releases about the other notes, nothing was held back. He knew there was a note, she wouldn’t be able to lie to him. And now, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to.

He could see by her wariness that she needed some encouragement, “I’m one of the detectives assigned to this case, I’m in charge. I’ve seen all the notes from the other kidnappings. I was out of town for the last few weeks, but I’ve read all the reports. I came back early when I heard what was happening. Now answer my questions.”

She sniffed and then let out a deep breath. “It was Tuesday morning. I went into Kayla’s room to wake her for school and she wasn’t there. There was a note on her dresser, pinned to the front of one of her dolls.”

“Where’s the note now?”

She sniffed again, blinked her eyes, reached into her pocket, and drew out the much-maligned note. He took if from her by the edges. Then he looked around for a box of tissues. He saw one on the sofa table behind him and reached for it. He handed her a wad of tissues and instructed her to, “Blow.”

Using just the barest touch on the corners, he unfolded the note. “Have you been carrying this around with you?”

“Yes, I didn’t want to lose it or have anyone find it.”

He scanned the note then read it again. He leaned his head back against the sofa bolster and closed his eyes.

“Still got one more to go, huh?” he said to the ceiling.

“Uh, yeah. One more. Tonight.” Her voice was so soft now that he could barely hear her.
He sat up, leaned forward, then with the note open between his knees he read the note aloud:

Laura Wyndham: I have your daughter. If you want her back do these three things and DON’T involve the authorities, for all the good they’d do. You should know by now that I’m not fooling around.

First: Go to Victoria’s Secret at Westfield Mall. Shoplift six Wonder Bras. Size 38 D, something with lots of lace. And get caught. If you don’t get caught, it won’t count.

Second: Wednesday, the night of the big fashion show, the one at the Waterfront Hilton. I know you’re scheduled to model a Karan halter-style ball gown. Once you’re on stage, drop the top and let all of Wilmington see your titties. For at least ten seconds, or it won’t count.

Third: Pick up a man. Take your pick of any man in Motley’s Bar and Grille this Thursday night. Then go with him to the Jefferson Motel next door any time after eight and request room 12. Have sex with him there. There’s a hidden camera behind the TV that feeds to the Internet. I want to see him toy with your breasts and I want to see his fingers buried deep inside you before he fucks you. After I’ve watched your performance, I’ll return the girl. Oh, and the guy must pull out and come like they do in the porno flicks—on your belly or in the crack of your ass. Or it won’t count. And live dangerously, no rubbers. Here’s a bonus: get him to eat you, and your daughter comes home a virgin.

Kel let out a long sigh while Laura sobbed quietly, staring at the paper in his hands. “The man is incredibly brutal and crude,” she spat out.

And quite imaginative, Kel thought. “Any idea how he could know you were in the show and what you’d be wearing?”

“It wouldn’t be hard to find out. Lots of people knew. I’ve had six fittings and three dress rehearsals; anyone at the Hilton, or a clerk at the dress shop could tell someone what I’d be wearing if they’d asked. It might even have been published in a publicity ad.”

“This is despicable what he’s demanding. What kind of man does this to a woman?” He was thinking out loud as he shook his head against the soft leather, his thick brown waves getting mussed.

“He wants me to be a stripper.”

“And a porn star for Christ sake! The man is a pervert of the worst order,” Kel’s lips pursed and when he sat up, she could see fury blazing in his dark steely eyes.

“I have to do it, you know that,” she whispered.

He took her hand and covered it with his. She lifted her head until their eyes met. “I know you do. I know exactly what it would mean if you didn’t.”

There was silence for a full minute as they both stared into each other’s eyes. The clock ticking on the mantel was the only sound that intruded into their somber thoughts. Then Laura slipped her hand from his and sat back against the cushions. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from overflowing yet again. Kel sat back and stared fixedly at the burl coffee table, taking in the cut-glass crystal ashtray, William Mangum’s exquisite picture book of North Carolina, and the pile of damp tissues Laura was building on the edge. Good God, what the hell could he say to this woman? What should he say? Jesus! Some man was going to have to have sex with her in front of a camera for her to get her daughter back! Just where was the definitive police manual when you needed it? What would the repercussions be? Being recorded . . . damn! I could lose my fucking job!

Into the quiet morning, he barked, “I’ll do it. You’ll meet me at Motley’s.”

“What?”

“I’ll be the stranger you meet. You’ll meet me at the bar, we’ll have a few drinks, and then we’ll go to the Jefferson and give him the show he wants so you can get your daughter back. And, yes, I’ll make damned sure she comes back a virgin.”

She blinked her eyes wide and sat straight up. “Can you do that?”

“Do you have someone else who can do it?” He’d made his decision and now it bothered the hell out of him that she was questioning it. And he couldn’t pinpoint what his feelings would be if she answered his question in the affirmative.

“No! No. I just . . .. God, this is so strange.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I don’t do this kind of thing . . . .”

“Neither do I.”

“I’m scared. Really scared.”

To keep from wrapping his arms around her and soothing her, as he wanted to, he leaned back against the sofa and spread his arms out along the top cushions. He casually crossed his ankle over his knee and let out a big sigh. He was forcing his ankle not to shake. He was as unnerved as she was, but damned if he was going to show her.

“I know you are, but you really don’t have much choice if you want her back. The mothers that didn’t do his bidding gambled with their kids’ lives and lost. Ordinarily we don’t advocate submitting to this type of terrorism, but we aren’t able to stop him yet. We have remarkably little to go on. So far, he’s calling the shots, as horrible as that is.”

“I’ll do anything to get her back.”

“I know. And I’ll try not to make it any worse than it has to be. I’ll use my body to shield yours from the camera whenever I can.”

“This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. Especially with a man I’ve just met.”

“Want to take a chance on what you’ll find at Motley’s?” he quipped, raising one dark eyebrow.

She met his steadfast gaze. “Not a chance. At least you’re a known quantity.” Besides I doubt I could do better in a hundred bars. She blushed from her errant thought and ducked her face. “In any event, I don’t have anybody else I can ask.” She looked him up and down then managed to get the words out. “I haven’t had sex in over three years, and I’m not using any birth control. I won’t be protected.”

“I’ll be pulling out, remember?”

The thought of exactly what he was referring to caused her to shiver. “How am I going to get through this?” she whispered.

“We’ll get through it together. Just make sure you don’t do or say anything that might let on that we’ve met before. In the meantime, I’m going to go see what I can find out about this motel. Like how the hell he knows room twelve is going to be available after eight.”

“You won’t . . . .”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tip our hand. I know the consequences this man deals out. We’ll play it his way, because we have to. But when this is finished, I’m going to get the sick bastard! He’ll be sent to a prison where the inmates will cut his balls off with a rusty shiv.”

He stood. “I’ll see you at Motley’s around seven. You go straight to the bar, order a drink, and I’ll sidle up to you. Then you can come on to me in case he’s in the bar watching. After a few drinks, we’ll walk over to the motel. Then I’ll take over and you just follow my lead. I know this will be extremely difficult for you, but if you can relax and trust me it’ll fare better for you. I’ll try not to hurt you and I’ll make sure to position us so the camera gets more of me than you while still satisfying this pervert’s demands.”

“I can’t believe this is happening to me. I can’t believe he was able to just waltz in and steal my baby!” She had turned the waterworks on again, and it tore into his heart.

“After we get her back, we’ll find out how he did it and make sure he can never do it again.”

Kel turned to leave, then pulled her up with him, keeping her hands in his. “I need to go to work. I have to set a few things in motion.”

“You won’t . . . .”

He wanted to put his fingers on her trembling lips to still them, but instead, squeezed her fingertips, “Don’t worry. I won’t jeopardize Kayla, that you can count on. She’s the most important thing in my world until we get her back.”

“Won’t you be jeopardizing your job?”

“No, I don’t think so. But even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. Kayla’s all that matters now.”

“Thank you so much Detective Vain. I didn’t know how I was going to handle this. I was actually bracing myself to go to bed with the first man who sat beside me tonight.”

“Well, that’ll be me. And you can call me Kel. We’re going to get to know each other really well in a very short space of time. And Laura?”

“Yes?”

“When we’re in the room, you’re going to have to beg me to go down on you. It just wouldn’t be a man’s normal inclination to do that at a time like this. He’d be more into pleasing himself. It’s not something normally done in this kind of situation—one-night stands are not usually about satisfying the woman that way. Right at about the time I’m fingering you would be a good time, okay? Start begging then.”

Her cheeks turned fire engine red. She simply nodded.

They walked silently to the door. “And you can turn all those outside flood lights off, they might have helped before, but now that he has her, we certainly don’t want to discourage him from bringing her back.” He reached down and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get her back.”

Then he was gone.

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