When You Dare
Page 72
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The day after she was taken, and then again after he’d spoken with Bishop, someone had gotten on her computer.
Sitting back in the chair, he considered the possibilities. Why the long wait between visits? And why now?
Would the same person visit twice, searching through different programs? A pro would know how risky it was to return, but then a pro would have found what he looked for on the first visit.
And if it wasn’t the same person? Had Bishop ignored Dare’s warning and sent someone of his own to investigate, maybe to check on his daughter’s welfare?
Or to cover his tracks?
Dare was mulling over possibilities while also listening to Molly move about the apartment. She’d tidied the bedroom, which was mostly dumped clothes, and was now in the living room. Though she remained in the apartment, and not that far from him, Dare didn’t like it that he couldn’t see her. Until the people responsible for hurting her were found, he wanted to keep a very close watch on her.
He was just about to check the internet links when she reappeared in the doorway. She’d removed her sweater, and her boots and socks. Barefoot, blouse untucked and the hem of her jeans dragging the floor, she stared at him.
One look at her face and Dare was out of the chair. “What is it?”
She took a shuddering breath. “A…note.” She gestured behind her with a shaking hand. “Left for me by the phone table.”
Grim, Dare put an arm around her. “Show me.”
She walked to a small, overturned table against the wall that separated her kitchen and living room. “This is where I keep my landline, where my cell phone charges and where I put my mail, my change and…everything.”
A dozen letters, several packages and boxes were dumped around the floor. “You’ve got a load of stuff there.”
“I was gone for a while, remember?”
“So, who brought the mail in?”
Her hand to her forehead, expression bleak, she pointed a stiff finger at a lone pad of paper resting atop the answering machine. “Whoever left that, I guess.”
Dare stepped over the broken landline phone to the answering machine that lay on the floor. It was unplugged, possibly broken, too, but he’d check on that in a minute.
Molly stuck close to him. “I use the landline for business calls, like with my editor and agent, or phone interviews, that sort of thing. Family almost always calls the cell. Whoever left that note knew I’d try to check my business messages, right? That’s why he specifically left it there. He didn’t want it to get lost in the rest of this mess.”
“Probably.” Written in large block letters with bold red marker was a message that Dare read aloud: “Still feel so forgiving?”
He realized that Molly shook with anger, not fear. She’d curled her hands tight, clenched her jaw and her dark eyes were burning bright.
“I take it you have an idea what that means?”
“Got a good guess, yeah.”
She looked ready to combust, so Dare said, “Let’s see if the answering machine still works, okay?”
Nodding, Molly went to her knees and reconnected the cord to the machine and then plugged it into the wall. There were some calls from her sister, inquiring after her. Her agent, her editor, left urgent calls requesting her attention. The local bookstore sounded pleasant but confused about her absence.
Then another call from Natalie. She said that she’d gotten the email, but she wanted specifics. “Why won’t you call me, damn it? I don’t get it. This is nuts. If you’re off having fun, that’s fine. I’m thrilled for you. But you can take one minute to talk, so…call me.”
Smothering in guilt, Molly groaned. “Natalie must be frantic.”
“Yeah, but what was that about an email?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on.” Dare tugged her to her feet and together they went back to her computer. He checked the history and found her online email program had been accessed. “Mind if I take a look?”
“It’s not like I have a lot to hide at this point.” She gestured at the computer. “Have at it.”
Dare pulled up the email program and looked for received emails, but saw none. Then he looked at the sent emails, and again, nothing.
Molly frowned. “Check the trash.”
“I am.” He opened the folder for discarded mail. “Bingo.” There were three messages from her sister, one of them saying she was heading off for spring break and wanted to talk to Molly first.
“Spring break?” Dare asked.
“She’s a teacher.” Molly leaned over his shoulder and frowned at the monitor. “There’s an email from me, but I wasn’t here to send it.”
Dare opened the deleted post and together they read the succinct message. “I’ll be gone for a while. Off having some fun for a change. I’ll get in touch when I can. Love, Molly.”
Very slowly, she straightened. “It was only sent to Natalie, and it doesn’t sound at all like me.”
“Which is why your sister was worried.”
She let out a breath. “Whoever sent that knew that Natalie was the only person who would notice my absence. I mean, my agent and editor, too, but they wouldn’t panic if my family didn’t, and Natalie’s the only family who would.”
“So it’s someone who knows you.” Dare had figured that much all along. He stood and pulled her into his arms. Holding her felt right—and despite the circumstances, it stirred him, because he knew tonight was the night.
Sitting back in the chair, he considered the possibilities. Why the long wait between visits? And why now?
Would the same person visit twice, searching through different programs? A pro would know how risky it was to return, but then a pro would have found what he looked for on the first visit.
And if it wasn’t the same person? Had Bishop ignored Dare’s warning and sent someone of his own to investigate, maybe to check on his daughter’s welfare?
Or to cover his tracks?
Dare was mulling over possibilities while also listening to Molly move about the apartment. She’d tidied the bedroom, which was mostly dumped clothes, and was now in the living room. Though she remained in the apartment, and not that far from him, Dare didn’t like it that he couldn’t see her. Until the people responsible for hurting her were found, he wanted to keep a very close watch on her.
He was just about to check the internet links when she reappeared in the doorway. She’d removed her sweater, and her boots and socks. Barefoot, blouse untucked and the hem of her jeans dragging the floor, she stared at him.
One look at her face and Dare was out of the chair. “What is it?”
She took a shuddering breath. “A…note.” She gestured behind her with a shaking hand. “Left for me by the phone table.”
Grim, Dare put an arm around her. “Show me.”
She walked to a small, overturned table against the wall that separated her kitchen and living room. “This is where I keep my landline, where my cell phone charges and where I put my mail, my change and…everything.”
A dozen letters, several packages and boxes were dumped around the floor. “You’ve got a load of stuff there.”
“I was gone for a while, remember?”
“So, who brought the mail in?”
Her hand to her forehead, expression bleak, she pointed a stiff finger at a lone pad of paper resting atop the answering machine. “Whoever left that, I guess.”
Dare stepped over the broken landline phone to the answering machine that lay on the floor. It was unplugged, possibly broken, too, but he’d check on that in a minute.
Molly stuck close to him. “I use the landline for business calls, like with my editor and agent, or phone interviews, that sort of thing. Family almost always calls the cell. Whoever left that note knew I’d try to check my business messages, right? That’s why he specifically left it there. He didn’t want it to get lost in the rest of this mess.”
“Probably.” Written in large block letters with bold red marker was a message that Dare read aloud: “Still feel so forgiving?”
He realized that Molly shook with anger, not fear. She’d curled her hands tight, clenched her jaw and her dark eyes were burning bright.
“I take it you have an idea what that means?”
“Got a good guess, yeah.”
She looked ready to combust, so Dare said, “Let’s see if the answering machine still works, okay?”
Nodding, Molly went to her knees and reconnected the cord to the machine and then plugged it into the wall. There were some calls from her sister, inquiring after her. Her agent, her editor, left urgent calls requesting her attention. The local bookstore sounded pleasant but confused about her absence.
Then another call from Natalie. She said that she’d gotten the email, but she wanted specifics. “Why won’t you call me, damn it? I don’t get it. This is nuts. If you’re off having fun, that’s fine. I’m thrilled for you. But you can take one minute to talk, so…call me.”
Smothering in guilt, Molly groaned. “Natalie must be frantic.”
“Yeah, but what was that about an email?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on.” Dare tugged her to her feet and together they went back to her computer. He checked the history and found her online email program had been accessed. “Mind if I take a look?”
“It’s not like I have a lot to hide at this point.” She gestured at the computer. “Have at it.”
Dare pulled up the email program and looked for received emails, but saw none. Then he looked at the sent emails, and again, nothing.
Molly frowned. “Check the trash.”
“I am.” He opened the folder for discarded mail. “Bingo.” There were three messages from her sister, one of them saying she was heading off for spring break and wanted to talk to Molly first.
“Spring break?” Dare asked.
“She’s a teacher.” Molly leaned over his shoulder and frowned at the monitor. “There’s an email from me, but I wasn’t here to send it.”
Dare opened the deleted post and together they read the succinct message. “I’ll be gone for a while. Off having some fun for a change. I’ll get in touch when I can. Love, Molly.”
Very slowly, she straightened. “It was only sent to Natalie, and it doesn’t sound at all like me.”
“Which is why your sister was worried.”
She let out a breath. “Whoever sent that knew that Natalie was the only person who would notice my absence. I mean, my agent and editor, too, but they wouldn’t panic if my family didn’t, and Natalie’s the only family who would.”
“So it’s someone who knows you.” Dare had figured that much all along. He stood and pulled her into his arms. Holding her felt right—and despite the circumstances, it stirred him, because he knew tonight was the night.
