He gazed at me for a moment, as though unsure. "Stay here, then."

I paced back and forth, trembling in fear, counting the minutes until Marco returned. When at last he came around the corner, I held my breath.

"It's okay, Sunshine. It's not Tara."

I burst into tears of relief, burying my face in his coat. Marco held me. "It's a blond woman. She matches the description Tara's friends gave."

"How did she die?"

"It looks like she was run over."

I shuddered, trying not to picture it, and wiped icy teardrops off my eyelashes. "But why did Eros bark?"

"He found Tara's black headband in front of the loading dock door. Aaron called for backup so they can search the warehouse."

"Marco, if Tara comes through this, I won't get involved in any protests ever again."

"Can I get that in writing?"

After four squad cars unloaded more cops, Aaron briefed his sergeant, who immediately had all employees vacated from the warehouse. Within ten minutes, grumbling workers shuffled outside to wait while Eros tracked inside off-leash. I huddled against Marco, waiting, worrying, praying, until finally we heard the squawk of the sergeant's radio as Aaron reported in. The sergeant turned to give his men a thumbs-up. "He found her."

I stared at Marco in astonishment. "They found Tara! Oh, my G.o.d, they found her!"

Marco put his arms around me and nearly lifted me off the ground in an exuberant hug. As we waited near the doorway, I heard the sergeant contact his men at the Expo Center so they could tell Kathy and Jordan the joyous news. The sergeant spotted me standing with Marco and came toward us.

"I thought you were on your way home," he said to me.

"This seemed more important."

Officer Aaron appeared at the door and motioned for me to come forward. "Your niece wants to talk to you."

I stepped inside the big warehouse to find one of the sheriff's deputies with Tara, whose pet.i.te body was enveloped in an oversized black wool coat. Tara held out her arms to me, as she used to when she was little and wanted to be picked up. I ran to her and hugged her against me. "I'm so glad you're safe. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Tara's face was pale but her eyes blazed with anger. "I was Tasered, Aunt Abby! It hurt, and I couldn't move."

"I'm so sorry." I hugged her again. Tara couldn't begin to understand how sorry I was.

Breathlessly, Tara began to relate her escape. "A creepy woman in a bad blond wig Tasered me in the bathroom, then wrapped this smelly coat around me, dragged me through the lobby and outside where her scuzzball boyfriend was waiting. The Taser had worn off when they shoved me into a junky old van sitting in the parking lot, but I pretended like it hadn't so she wouldn't use it on me again. I waited until she was climbing into the pa.s.senger seat; then I jumped out and ran to hide among the cars.

"I thought maybe Dad had forgotten to lock his car-he does that a lot-so I ran there, but I couldn't get in. That's when I dropped one of my headbands, to let you know I'd gotten away. Did you find my headband trail? Is that how you knew to come here?"

"Yes! The search dog followed your trail straight here. That was fast thinking, Tara."

"I knew I had to do something. But the creeps caught me again and tied my hands together. Then they put tape over my mouth and drove me over here. They parked the van behind a big semitruck, then started arguing, so I managed to get out again."

"I can't believe you got away twice."

"It wasn't that hard. They tied my hands in front, so it was easy to get the tape off my mouth. And they forgot to tie my feet. They weren't very smart, as far as kidnappers go."

I wanted to laugh, but the seriousness of the situation kept me from it. "Do you know what the kidnappers were arguing about?"

Tara rubbed her eyes. I could tell she was exhausted. "The scuzzball wanted to take me inside the warehouse, but Blondie said that was a stupid idea. She wanted to go where no one would hear them."

Where no one would hear them? That was ominous enough to make me shudder.

"Do you remember anything else they said, any names they might have mentioned?"

She rubbed her eyes again. "No. They were starting to yell real loud, and the wind was howling all around us, so I pushed down on the door handle with my boot and wiggled out like a worm. Then Blondie came after me again and chased me all over the parking lot, while the dude in the hood drove around in his van, trying to stop me from getting away. I was yelling for help, but no one was there, and the wind was so loud, I don't know if I would've been heard, anyway.

"I finally dove under a truck, but Blondie found me there, too. That's where I left the second headband. Then I saw one of the garage doors coming down, so I ran for it. I tossed out my last headband just before the door went down, like Indiana Jones did. I guess that's when the woman gave up, because she didn't come after me."

"We need to get you down to the station," the deputy told Tara. "You can visit more with your aunt afterward."

"No, wait!" Tara cried, clinging to me. "I didn't tell you the most important part. Those creeps thought I was you. They called me Abby. That means you're in danger. You have to come with me so the police can protect you." Tara turned to the officer. "You'll keep her safe, right?"

The deputy replied tactfully, "We have one of the kidnappers already, Tara, and we're tracking down the other one right now, but if your aunt wants to ride with you, that's fine. We'll need to talk to her, anyway."

"Tara's parents will be here any minute," I told the deputy. "They'll want to go with her. Tara, Marco will bring me. We'll follow you there, okay?"

Tara finally nodded and released her grip on my arm. I walked to the door behind them, watching as Kathy and Jordan jumped out of a squad car and ran to sweep up their daughter in a group hug, making me all teary-eyed again. I whispered a quick prayer of thanks that it had worked out all right, then headed toward Marco.

"Feel better?" he asked, putting his arms around me.

"Relieved that Tara's okay. Do you want to go with me to the sheriff's office? They want to see me."

"Sure. I'll ask one of the deputies to drop us at the Expo Center so we can get my car. So, tell me what Tara said."

"We were right, Marco. The kidnappers were after me. The blonde must have seen you and Tara come out of the concert hall and a.s.sumed she was me. Tara got away from them before they realized their error, and when they recaptured her, they taped her mouth shut before she could tell them."

"They captured her twice and she was able to escape both times?"

"Can you believe that? Before she got away the second time, Tara heard them arguing about where to take her. The blonde was angry that the guy had driven them to the warehouse. She thought they should go where they couldn't be heard. What does that sound like to you?"

"Like they had murder in mind."

A shiver raced up my spine as Marco echoed my own thoughts. "Someone really has a grudge against me, Marco, and who could that be but Raand?"

We picked up the Prius and drove to the sheriff's office, where I was interviewed for nearly an hour by two detectives. One of them, Adrian Valderas, was a good-looking Hispanic man a few years older than Marco. The other, T. J. Maroni, was a seasoned officer with big brown eyes, a heavy-duty mustache, and an infectious smile, who seemed far too easygoing to be a homicide investigator.

I told the detectives about the letters I'd received, the burning brick, the trashing of Bloomers, the attempted kidnapping of Nikki and Jillian, and my reasons for suspecting that Nils Raand was connected to those incidents. I directed them to Sergeant Reilly of the New Chapel police for information on the evidence he'd collected on the case.

"Anyone else you can think of who might have reason to want to harm you?" Valderas asked.

"No. It has to be Raand."

"You're sure about that?" Maroni asked.

I thought for a moment. "I guess I did help put a few felons behind bars."

Valderas readied his pen. "How many are we talking about? Two? Three?"

"More like seven."

They both gaped at me. Valderas said, "You helped convict seven felons?"

"Make that eight. And they were all involved in murders."

Valderas was speechless. Maroni pointed at me. "I remember reading about you in the newspapers. You're the florist. Old man was a cop with the New Chapel PD. Am I right?"

I nodded demurely.

"Are any of these convicts out of prison?" Maroni asked.

"I doubt it. They received long sentences."

"Any of them have family members who might be holding a grudge?" Maroni asked.

"The ones who had family, no. They were relieved to hear the guilty verdicts read."

Maroni said, "Okay, Ms. Knight, one more thing and then you can go home. These protests against the dairy farm-got any more planned?"

"No."

"Terrific. I'm sure Sergeant Reilly has already said as much, but my advice to you is to lay low. If someone has put a contract out on you, let's not give him any opportunities."

A contract? I shuddered, imagining snipers on the roof waiting for me to step outside.

"Thank you, Ms. Knight. We'll keep you informed of our investigation."

When I was finally released, it was well after one o'clock in the morning, and my elation at finding Tara had turned into fear for my own safety mixed with sheer exhaustion. I was so tired that as Marco and I walked to his car in the parking lot behind the sheriff's department, I glanced at the rooftop only twice to see if I was about to be sniped. Okay, three times, but that last time I could hardly keep my eyes focused.

"If you don't mind," Marco said, starting up his engine, "I'm going to stop by my place and pick up a few things."

I yawned. "What kind of things?"

"Clothes."

I c.o.c.ked one eye open. "Clothes?"

"So I have something clean to wear in the morning." He glanced at me. "Until we know for certain that you're out of danger, I'll bunk down at your place and spend as much time as I can with you. No one is going to harm you on my watch. Okay?"

"I hate to keep inconveniencing you."

"Keeping you safe isn't an inconvenience, Abby."

I smiled and leaned my head against the headrest. What a guy to have in my corner.

Marco's apartment occupied the second floor of a two-story white colonial in a quiet neighborhood of older homes, with big shade trees dotting the front lawns, one-car detached garages in the back, and sidewalks cracked by tree roots.

"That's strange," Marco said as we pulled up to the curb behind my Corvette. "Rafe's home. He's supposed to be working at Down the Hatch until two in the morning."

Hmm. Rafe was home. My car was there. . . . "How does Rafe get to work?"

"I've been taking him. Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering." And sighing in relief. I stopped to give the bright yellow hood a loving rub and got a thick smudge of dirt on my glove. "I'm sorry you're so dirty," I whispered, gazing through the window on the pa.s.senger side.

"Are you talking to your car?"

I scoffed, which was always better than telling an outright lie.

Upstairs, we found Marco's youngest brother, twenty-one-year-old Raphael Salvare, sprawled on the sofa, watching a movie on TV. Rafe was a younger version of Marco, dark hair, dark, sensual eyes, olive complexion, and trim build. He was slimmer than Marco, but every bit as engaging.

"Hey," he said, grinning at me. "What's up, Hot Stuff? Where have you two been?"

I flopped down on one of Marco's cushy blue recliners and closed my eyes. If Marco wanted to tell him about the kidnapping, fine. I was too beat.

"Why aren't you at the bar?" Marco asked.

"Oh, yeah," Rafe said. "I need to talk to you about that."

Uh-oh. I opened my eyes just enough to watch as Marco hit the remote's OFF b.u.t.ton and sat down on the sofa, forcing Rafe to swing his legs to the floor and sit up. "Talk."

"Now?" Rafe whispered. "You've got your lady here, bro."

"Abby doesn't mind. Why are you home?"

Abby didmind because she was tired. But that was okay. Family matters came first, and Marco's family had certainly had its share of problems with the youngest Salvare. Rafe had left college one semester shy of graduation, deciding he needed to find himself, but then he somehow kept forgetting to look.

His mother had put up with his laziness for a few months, then brought him with her on a visit from Ohio to see Marco and his sister Gina here in New Chapel. Ultimately, Mama Salvare left Rafe with Marco in the hopes he could straighten out his brother. Marco, being a dutiful son, had put Rafe to work at his bar doing menial labor, hoping to prove to Rafe that he needed to finish school and find a career. So far, though, Rafe seemed content to bus tables and do kitchen duty.

What he didn't like was being questioned. "Chill out, man. I have a new job, a real job. I start tomorrow. I was going to tell you this evening, but you left before I had a chance."

"That's great, Rafe," Marco said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, man! Where?"

"Hooters."

I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't laugh.

"Doing what?" Marco asked.

"I'm learning how to bartend," Rafe said. "I hear the tips are awesome. I even get some benefits."

With his looks, I was betting on it. I glanced at Marco and saw the great effort he was making not to snap something like, You can learn bartending at Down the Hatch!

"Well?" Rafe asked. "Aren't you proud of me?"

"Yes," Marco said slowly. "Yes, I am. You got out there and found something on your own." Marco gave him a smile-at great effort-then rose. "Look after things here, okay? I'll be staying at Abby's apartment. I just stopped to pack a bag. And by the way, I wouldn't tell Mama about your new job."