Page 103 of Lost Cause
Estelle laughed.
“What’s wrong with you?” Abby swiveled to look at the woman. “How can you be enjoying this? Finding joy in someone else’s struggle?”
“Struggle? You don’t know what struggle is.” She revealed deep anguish in her tone. “Try growing up without a penny to your family’s name. Literally without a penny. No food on thetable. Going to bed hungry more times than not. Wearing rags to school and being belittled every day.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Estelle,” Abby said sincerely. “But it doesn’t mean you need to resort to killing people.”
“I’ll do anything.Anythingto live the life I want. Escape from my childhood. But that didn’t happen until I married Victor. I worked hard to drag myself up out of the gutter and make myself socially acceptable. I had to before someone like Victor would stoop to marry me. Once I caught his eye, I had to fake my feelings for the imbecile. Bear kids for him. Just so I could have the life I deserve.”
Shocked by her statement, Abby stared at her captor. “No one deserves such a life. It has to be earned.”
“Really?” Her eyes flashed open, and she panted like a dog. “Did Victor earn it? No. He simply had the good fortune to be born into a rich family. He’s never worked a day in his life and never will.” Her eyes turned hard as iron. “Now go.”
Her look sent shudders over Abby as she turned to follow the footprints. At the lighthouse door, she tried to get a good look inside, but the darkness hid everything. Estelle pushed her ahead and flipped on a light, flooding a circular room with large windows all around.
“Go to the stairwell to your right. We’ll be going down to the basement.” Estelle shoved her harder, and she continued on across the room. She gasped.
To her left, Shaw lay in a heap, his eyes wide, blood infusing the front of his white shirt.
“So now you can see I mean business,” Estelle said. “We aren’t here for fun and games like you seem to think.”
“Trust me,” Abby said, her voice barely getting out of her throat. “I didn’t think we were here for that. Is there anything I can do to convince you not to use your gun on me?”
“No.” Estelle fired Abby an undeniable look of certainty. “You’re going to die tonight.”
Burke stabbed the call from Hayden on his phone mounted on his dash. “Tell me you found her, and she’s okay.”
“We didn’t find her. The shop’s locked. The lights on. The back door open.”
“And?”
“And we found her phone on the work table, blood on the inside of the back door.”
“Blood?” Burke couldn’t control his tone, the high pitch reflecting the inner turmoil threatening to destroy him. “It could be hers—” And he was still thirty minutes away from Seaside Harbor. He couldn’t do anything about it.
“It could be.” Hayden’s tone was level, unemotional.
“How can you be so calm?” Burke snapped.
“Trust me. I’m not calm. Just trying to keep it together. You should probably do the same. Won’t do her any good if you get in an accident.”
He was right, but Burke couldn’t calm down. Not with Abby missing and blood found on the door. “Did Shaw hurt her? Where could he have taken her?”
“Could be another property he owns, but I don’t know of any. I’m on my laptop now, checking county property records.”
Burke needed to pick up his speed, but he couldn’t concentrate on the phone and go faster. “Call me back the minute you know anything.”
He didn’t wait for Hayden to agree, but ended the call and punched the gas pedal. If anyone other than Abby were missing, he would still do his best to get to them. But his emotionswouldn’t be wrapped up in the need to find this person, and he could drive more rationally.
If anything told him he cared about Abby—maybe loved her—this clarified things for him.
He gripped the wheel, roaring around curves, his tires squealing. He’d taken many defensive driving classes and was confident in handling this road, slowing when he had to but hating every second of it. Hating every minute that passed when he was no closer to knowing where Abby had been taken.
Nearing the lights of Seaside Harbor, his phone rang. “What did you find, Hayden?”
“Nothing.”
Burke slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Pain shot up his arm, but it didn’t compare to the pressure crushing his chest. “So that’s it? We’ve got nothing?”
