Afraid she was about to throw up, she’d crawled to her feet and stumbled out of the auditorium by way of the back exit. The fresh air had helped, but she was still dizzy. No one was around, and she remembered being relieved that she could vomit in peace.
But then someone had appeared out of nowhere.
As she hauled in deep breaths, bent over, her hands resting on her knees, someone had come up behind her. “Are you okay?” a woman’s voice had asked. “Let me help you.”
By that point, she was flickering in and out of consciousness. She’d barely noticed anything about the woman except that she spoke with a slight accent. Weak, nauseous, dizzy, she hadn’t resisted as the woman guided her toward the street. If it had been a man, would she have fought back? Would she have known it was a kidnapping?
A car. There had been a car idling behind the high school. A very plain and ordinary car, like a Subaru. A red Subaru, similar to a hundred other red Subarus in Lost Harbor. The woman had pushed her into the backseat. Once she was horizontal, she’d nearly blacked out.
But not before she saw a man at the steering wheel. He wore a fleece-lined hat with ear flaps and sunglasses, meaning he was almost completely unrecognizable. But not for her, not with her memory for faces.
It was Mr. Bad Guy himself. Seb Antonov.
Tristan had left her a message about him and Maya had warned her to stay on the lookout, and even suggested that she move out of her cabin temporarily. Lulu had intended to move back to the Sweet Harbor B&B as soon as she could manage it. Never in her wildest dreams would she have anticipated that he’d show up the very next day.
“Take her phone,” he’d growled to the woman.
Dimly, Lulu had realized she still had her phone in her hand from taking her selfie. There was a text box already open, and she’d tried to press send. Then realized that she should text something besides a crotch shot of her stretching. Hit a bunch of random letters because her coordination was shot. And then her phone had been ripped from her hand.
Had she managed to send a message? She had no idea. Even if she had, it was probably gibberish. Besides, Tristan was almost eight thousand miles away. A twenty-hour plane flight. She should have sent her stupid gibberish crotch shot to Maya Badger.
She clamped her teeth onto the fabric of the gag and worked it down her face. It wasn’t tied so tightly that she couldn’t maneuver her way out of it. The man wasn’t trying to suffocate her, obviously. If he wanted her dead, she’d be dead already.
Finding that thought at least a little comforting, she tackled the ties around her hands next. Fortunately for her, the man—or the couple, since he was working with the mystery woman who had “helped” her—hadn’t used zip ties. By twisting her wrists this way and that, gritting her teeth against the pain, she was able to free her hands from the bindings. They obviously hadn’t counted on her being as flexible as she was. Next, the blindfold, which was easy once her hands were free.
Even without the blindfold, she could barely see anything in the darkness. How long had she been out? Was it night already? Hard to tell because she was in a room with no source of light anywhere. Even the windows seemed to be covered with blackout shades.
These days it got dark by five o’clock. The rehearsal had been scheduled for nine, and she’d made sure to be on time. Had the drugs in that drink knocked her out for an entire day?
She thought back to Gretel’s Café. Obviously, Gretel hadn’t messed with her drink, but the cup had sat there on the counter while they talked about surviving Alaskan winters. And actually—wow, it just came back to her.
Another woman had been ordering at the same time and their drinks had gotten switched. She’d taken the lid off and said, with a slight accent, “Excuse me, I think I have the wrong drink. I ordered tea, and this appears to be foam.”
Laughing, they’d exchanged their cups and Lulu hadn’t given it another thought. She called up the vague image of the woman, who she hadn’t recognized. Gretel hadn’t seemed to know her, either. She’d been wearing dark glasses and a wool coat and a silver pashmina, which was more of a city outfit. Lulu had made the quick assumption that she was from Anchorage, here on some kind of business.
Although she’d never seen the face of the woman who had pushed her into the Subaru, she could safely assume the two were one and the same. She must be working with Antonov, either for money or because they were partners.
Smart. She would have recognized Antonov instantly if he showed his face in public. So would Maya Badger or any of the other police officers in town. Of course they wouldn’t have been looking out for an unfamiliar woman showing up in Lost Harbor in a wool coat and pashmina.
So she’d been kidnapped by Mr. Bad Guy and a female accomplice. Clearly, he’d escaped from jail and come back to grab her. But why? Revenge? Anger that she’d messed up his last kidnapping attempt?
And where on earth had he taken her?
She could at least try to answer that question.
She reached for the rope at her ankles, then realized with a snort that she still wore her Nutcracker costume, which was a ridiculous version of a sea slug. Dark gray tights and leotard, with black leg warmers and a black fuzzy vest. Hey, it could be worse. She could have been kidnapped in her burlesque outfit, which exposed a lot more of her skin.
She was just about to untie her ankles when footsteps sounded outside, crunching in the snow. She quickly put the blindfold and gag back in place, then settled into the same position she’d woken up in. Hopefully everything would stay in place. Maybe she’d have an edge if the kidnapper didn’t know she’d mostly freed herself.
A wedge of light swept across the floor as the door opened, then closed again. Someone was here.
Thirty-One
Tristan had been checking his phone ever since he got off the plane in Anchorage, but the only text he’d gotten from Lulu was some kind of weird selfie with a bunch of orgasmic-looking random letters. Nothing since then, which set off all kinds of alarm bells.
Since he and Toni were essentially switching places, she’d left her truck at the Lost Harbor airport for him. He drove right to the police station, where a number of law enforcement types had already gathered.
Maya stood at the head of the group, joined by one of her sergeants, Darius Boone, Nate Prudhoe and a few of the volunteer firefighters, and even the former mayor, Dan Shipp, who had recently joined the state troopers.
She beckoned Tristan to join them. “We’re formulating a search plan now. The last time anyone saw Lulu was at the high school auditorium before the rehearsal.”
“She sent me a text from there. A selfie. I haven’t heard anything from her since.”
“One of the kids in the show says she saw Lulu with a woman in a wool overcoat. Fancy was the word she used.”
A woman? That was a surprise.
“Has anyone seen Antonov?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean much. No one saw him the last time he came through. He’s obviously good at staying off the radar.”
”So what’s the plan? We’re looking for a woman in a wool coat?” Tristan rubbed his bleary eyes. The flight from Chile to Alaska took nearly an entire day, and he was exhausted.
Darius spoke up. “Me and most of my crew will fan out down the peninsula.”