South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 38

Nancy and her husband laughed. "We're taking the grandkids to Disney World in April. We've been promising them for years, and the time has finally come."

"Ah, well, that's understandable. How many grandkids do you have, and how old are they?"

Belle sipped her champagne as quickly as she figured she could without seeming like a lush. By the time her gla.s.s was empty, Nancy was explaining her hopes to someday take an Alaskan cruise.

"Bet that'd be something, huh?" Zackary said. "Whale watching, grizzlies ... kinda crazy."

Belle realized that Zackary was talking to her. Whales and grizzlies? It took her another moment to realize he was referring to an Alaskan cruise.

She blinked, suddenly aware how tired she was. Maybe it was all the food she'd eaten, or the mental energy she'd exerted worrying about Jackson. Speaking of Jackson...

She glanced out at the beach, then nodded at Zackary. "It sure would. Excuse me, but I've got to get something from my car."

She bid the rest of the group a polite goodbye and slipped past Zackary.

The patio was even more crowded now, and the guests' chatter combined with the music to dull the sound of the ocean. Belle caught a last snippet of Zackary asking Nancy about her cruise plans, and then she was navigating around tables, toward the little staircase that lead directly down to the near corner of the parking lot.

As she climbed down the stairs, she kept a firm grip on the railing and mentally took back any positive thoughts she'd had about the champagne. A headache was setting in, and the bitter taste lingering on the back of her tongue made the alcohol seem like a likely culprit. She and Jackson would either have to take a cab back to her place or hang out on the beach until her head cleared.

A cab would probably be best, with him still recovering. Spending moonlit hours on the beach would be too much to ask.

In contrast to the patio, the parking lot was dark and empty, an unlit sea of asphalt and vehicles. She crossed it, scanning the far corner where she'd found a s.p.a.ce near the front of the restaurant. Just when she was starting to get frustrated, she saw her car. It wasn't easy to locate in dark parking lots that was the price she paid for its midnight blue paint.

As she made her way toward it, her feet felt heavy which was ridiculous, considering that her strappy sandals weighed less than a pound combined.

In contrast, her head felt light. Too light, and still achy.

The sense of relaxation she'd felt after dinner was gone. Had she ruined it with the champagne? Maybe it'd been cheap stuff after all.

When she finally made it to her car, all she wanted to do was sink down into one of the seats.

She had to get back to the beach and Jackson, though leaving him alone out there made her nervous. Even if his leg started getting the best of him, he'd carry on with his tough guy act, not willing to lose face in front of others.

As quickly as she could make herself move, she unlocked her car, opened one of the back doors and leaned over the seat, reaching for her sweater. Jackson's cane was there too, and she was half tempted to grab it despite his wishes.

After a moment's deliberation, she decided not to.

She also decided she had to sit down, even if it was only for a second. Her head was killing her. It felt like a balloon tethered to her body by a wispy strand of ribbon if she moved too fast, it might float away.

Exhaling, she flopped down into the back seat, letting her head loll against the head rest. G.o.d, it should be illegal to sell champagne so cheap.

Or maybe the champagne was fine, and she had an allergy to the sulfites used in making wines. Mariah had mentioned seeing allergies like that at work, but it didn't make much sense in Belle's case. She and Mariah had split many a bottle of wine between the two of them, and it'd never made her feel like this.

The sea roared, and its breeze carried hints of the patio music to Belle. She sat there, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in the warm air and willing her head to settle back down onto her shoulders where it belonged. Time blurred, and the only thing she was sure of was that the longer she sat there, the less she wanted to move.

"Belle?"

She opened her eyes and realized that she was dizzy on top of everything else. Great. Whoever was approaching might be treated to her vomiting up her dinner on their shoes, if they got close enough.

"Belle, what's up? You okay in there?"

She barely suppressed a groan. Zackary. Of all the good Samaritans to happen along and enquire about her welfare, he was the last one she would've chosen. Why couldn't one of the RNs have walked by instead?

Yeah, fine. The words echoed in her mind, but didn't make it past the tip of her tongue.

"Belle?" He stepped up to the side of her car and bent down, a hand braced above the door. "You okay?"

Again, she tried to speak but couldn't. Just as she focused on his face, her vision began to swim. She saw two of him, then three.

Oh, G.o.d. She had to be having some kind of allergic reaction to something. She wished desperately for a nurse, but got nothing but Zackary leaning into the car, his eyes wide. "Belle?"

She finally sighed. It was the only sound she could make. She was so d.a.m.n tired.

He nodded, as if she'd said something substantial. Then he grabbed both her legs just below the knee and swung them all the way into the car, so her feet rested on the floor instead of hanging out the open door.

The motion slammed her with a fresh wave of vertigo. What the h.e.l.l did he think he was doing? As s.h.i.+tty as she felt, she still experienced a p.r.i.c.kle of indignation as his hands lingered on her legs.

They didn't stay there much longer. Next thing she knew, he was holding her hand no, taking the car keys from her hand. After he did that, he stood and shut the car door.

A sense of foreboding pierced the veil of her exhaustion. Something was wrong whatever he was doing, she didn't like it.

She tried to speak up as he opened the driver's side door and slipped into the seat, but it was useless. She remained silent as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life.

"You shouldn't have been so stuck-up," he said. "You made me do it this way."

She was too tired to be as afraid as she should've been when all four locks clicked down, driving home the reality that she was an unwilling pa.s.senger in her own car with a man she apparently didn't know nearly as well as she'd thought.

CHAPTER 37.

"Sorry y'all, but I'm going to head inside for the restroom. Maybe I'll catch up with you on the patio later."

Jackson extricated himself as politely as he could from the group he'd joined on the beach. For a while, the novelty of being out of his apartment and in the company of other human beings had been so fresh that he'd gotten lost in conversation. Now, he was aware that a chunk of time had pa.s.sed and Belle still wasn't back with her sweater.

He turned toward the beach access stairs and moved as quickly as he could. The white lie he'd told her colleagues was so they wouldn't think he was treating her like a child.

He knew better Belle was so adept at babying him that he knew it was strange that she wasn't back yet.

The stairs were a b.i.t.c.h, and the ramp wasn't much fun either. But he made it to the patio, where he scanned the crowd for Belle.

She wasn't there, but her co-worker with the curly reddish hair was leaning over a small table, a bottle of champagne open on its surface.

"Keira." He remembered her name at the last second. "Have you seen Belle?"

"She was here just a few minutes ago. Said she went to get something from her car."

He nodded and went for the steps that led down to the parking lot. He could've avoided stairs by pa.s.sing through the restaurant and out the front door, emerging at the other end of the lot, but he didn't want to waste time.

Leaning heavily on the rail, he took the steps as fast as he could. As soon as his feet hit blacktop, he started scanning the lot, sweeping his gaze back and forth as he moved toward the end where she'd parked.

When he got there, an icy fist closed around every organ in his chest cavity and squeezed, freezing the breath in his lungs.

Her car was gone.

"f.u.c.k!"

She'd promised to be right back. She wouldn't have left out of the blue without saying anything to him.

He checked his phone for any missed calls or texts just in case, but there was nothing.

When he called her, he got no answer.

So he called the department, asked to speak to the lieutenant in charge and reported Belle's vehicle stolen.

"I'll do the paperwork later," he said, "but I really need to find that car at this point, it's got to still be on the island."

The lieutenant agreed to have the on-duty officers look for it, and Jackson gave a description of the car, plus its tag number.

He didn't mention that the car's owner was missing too. If he did, the lieutenant would think he was freaking out over nothing that he couldn't find his girlfriend and was having a moronic meltdown.

If they found the car, they'd probably find Belle too, and he could explain then. Besides, if someone had abducted her in her own vehicle, it technically had been stolen.

He dialed again, quickly. Belle hadn't been gone long enough to make it over the bridge to Charleston whatever had happened, she was still on South Island. Every minute counted.

Which meant he needed to get on the streets as soon as possible and find her. Without a car, he was d.a.m.ned to waste valuable time.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Elijah answered the phone. He was the one person he could count on to take his concern seriously.

"Hey, I need you to do me a favor."

"Sure. What's up?

"Something's wrong. Belle disappeared from the party without a word. She said she was going to get her sweater from her car, but the vehicle is gone and so is she. She went to the parking lot alone, and I can't get in touch with her."

"s.h.i.+t."

"I need you to get to Moreno's as fast as you can and pick me up. I'm waiting on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant."

"Okay. Be there in ten. You should call the department, too."

"Already did reported her car stolen."

"All right, man. I'll be there soon."

Jackson ended the call. f.u.c.k, what would he have done without Elijah?

Elijah got there in under ten minutes, though it felt like an eternity.

Jackson tore open the pa.s.senger side door and climbed into the car. "She should still be on the island at this point, but we're cutting it close. We need to haul a.s.s."

Elijah frowned. He was probably the only person on the face of the planet who'd take Jackson's intuition seriously, and in that moment, he was infinitely grateful for that. Anyone else would've told him to chill out.

Elijah pulled out onto the street. "There's a radio under your seat. Turn it on."

Jackson did so, and soon they were listening in on a police frequency.

"No idea at all where we should look?" Elijah asked.

"No." Jackson's alarm started congealing into anger. After all his worrying, all those nights spent by her side in an effort to protect her, she'd disappeared from right under his nose.

It never would've happened if he'd walked with her to get the sweater, but he'd been busy running his mouth and hadn't wanted to suffer any unnecessary trips up or down stairs.

He was a f.u.c.king idiot, and if anything happened to her he'd never, ever stop paying for it. A cold sweat broke out on his back, making his s.h.i.+rt stick to his skin.

"I'm hoping a patrol officer will see her car, if we don't see it first." Jackson tapped the radio.

They traveled through a haze of streetlight. He kept his eyes open for her blue Honda as he strained his ears for any sc.r.a.p of direction that might come across the radio. Until then, his overactive heartbeat marked each pa.s.sing second.

f.u.c.k, what'd happened while he'd been out on the beach? Had she been abducted?

If a stranger came up to him while he was on patrol and said they hadn't seen their girlfriend for half an hour and were worried, he'd have to use every ounce of his professionalism in order to avoid rolling his eyes. But this was Belle, and he knew her knew her and knew what had been going on with her lately.

Someone could've ambushed her in the parking lot and forced her into her car at gunpoint. Maybe she was even driving. It was less farfetched than someone leaving a giant d.i.l.d.o in her office, or sneaking into her apartment to steal her underwear.

Abductions happened more often than incidents like those. Any cop would've known that.

Any cop also would've known that he needed to find her, fast. The person who'd trespa.s.sed into her office and home was probably a s.e.xual predator, and once a victim got into a vehicle with one of those, s.h.i.+t usually went from bad to much worse.

"s.h.i.+t." He clenched his jaw, telling himself not to think of her as a victim.

"Easy, man," Elijah said. "We're gonna find her. This isn't a very big island, and we know every street."

"I know we'll find her." The thing that really worried him was what kind of state she'd be in when they did.

He visually scanned street corner after street corner, building after building. Just when he felt he was about to lose his mind, they got a hit on the radio.

"Blue Honda sighted at the intersection of Ventura and Oasis." The officer read off the tag number and noted that the car was traveling over the speed limit.

"That's her," Jackson said, his heart in his throat.

Elijah hung a hard left through an intersection and turned the car around, heading for the southeast end of the Island.