Page 70 of His Captor

“Hayden?”

“It’s Simon,” Simon answered, sounding desperate and terrified. He knew what was going on.

“Simon, do you know where Hayden is?” I asked, still walking forward, following my instinct.

“I don’t,” Simon answered, sounding every bit as terrified as I imagined Hayden was. “He called me just a second ago. He’s being held prisoner, but he doesn’t know where. He thinks it’s near the hotel, but he isn’t sure. It’s a plain room with white walls and shelves with toilet paper and paper towels.”

I nodded, even though Simon couldn’t see. The toilet paper and paper towels were a new detail. That made me think Hayden was in a storage room. That could be near the hotel.

“I can feel him,” I said, crossing the parking lot, but pausing when, for no reason I could make sense of, I felt like I’d gone too far. “I’m having trouble pinpointing him, but I can feel him.”

“He says it’s Colin, your business partner, who’s holding him prisoner,” Simon went on.

“Yep,” I snapped, not wanting to be rude to Hayden’s brother, but anxious to get off the call and on with my search. “He’s going to pay for this.”

“I called the police right after Hayden hung up to let them know, but I can call them again,” Simon said. “Or anyone else you need me to call.”

“Det. Shirley is already on her way and the cops are here, though they’re more of a nuisance than not,” I added as I stopped moving and turned in a circle, trying to get my bearings. “I need to go, Simon. I need to find him.”

“Go, go!” Simon urged me, then ended the call from his end.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket, frustrated that I felt so close, but still so clueless.

Then I saw him. Off in the far corner of the parking lot. There was a staircase that I hadn’t seen. Colin was rushing up the stairs.

“Stop!” I shouted at him, then broke into a run.

Colin jerked hard as he reached the top of the stairs, then turned to gape at me, his eyes wide. His shock didn’t last long, though. He started running for the railing that marked the edge of the parking lot, leaping over and down to the sandy grass.

I chased after him, noting briefly as I passed the stairs that the parking lot I’d walked out onto was actually the top level of what might have been an underground parking garage.

I hesitated for only a second. There must have been a room somewhere on a lower level of the garage, a storage room where Hayden was being held. Everything within me wanted to go to him, but logic knew that if I let Colin get away now, the problem would only continue.

I hated it, but instead of rushing down the stairs to find Hayden, I leapt over the railing and chased after Colin.

“Stop!” I shouted after Colin again as he scrambled down toward the beach. I knew anything I said was futile, but I wanted the bastard to know I was still after him, he hadn’t gotten away.

The upper part of the beach was all soft sand with driftwood and bits of grass poking through. It made running next to impossible, especially in dress shoes and a suit. Colin had the advantage over me in that he was wearing jeans and sneakers, but he’d never been very athletic. He scrambled on, shoving a few nighttime strollers out of his way as he continued to charge down the beach toward the boardwalk at the far end.

I grit my teeth as I ran after him, dodging around the increasingly stunned beachgoers as I did. Once I made it ontoharder sand, it was easier to run. My dress shoes still slowed me down, but not enough that I wasn’t able to catch up to Colin.

“Where is he?” I demanded as I lunged toward Colin, tackling him.

“I—”

Whatever Colin had been about to say was cut off by the loud crack of a gun going off.

For a moment, panic overrode everything. The shot was so near that I wondered if I’d been shot. The impact of throwing Colin to the sand didn’t help either. I splayed atop him, too stunned to do anything for a moment, searching my body to see if I was in pain.

I wasn’t the one who had been shot, though. Colin cried out under me, like the wounded animal he was.

A different sort of instinct took over. I pulled back to a crouch, grasping the man who had once been my friend and partner and rolling him to his back. Colin wore an expression that was wild with fear, and his eyes refused to focus on anything as he thrashed. His mouth was open in a silent cry, but it was as if he were too stunned to make noise.

A second later, as dark wetness spread across the front of his jeans, I knew why. The handle of a gun stuck out from his waistband, and from its angle, I was reasonably certain Colin had shot himself in the thigh. By the amount and the speed with which blood soaked him, I had a bad feeling he’d hit a femoral artery.

“Colin, stay still,” I told him. “Don’t move or you’ll make the bleeding worse.”

“I just wanted to live the good life,” he managed to groan, writhing despite my insistence that he stay still. “Why couldn’t you just let me win for once?”

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