Sweet Sacrifice Read online

  “And you didn’t answer any of them.” She sounded annoyed. “Like I said, this is a matter of life or death.”

  Still unsure of her mental state, Brandon decided not to annoy her further. Who knew what she was capable of doing? It was better to let her have her say then maybe she would leave.

  “Okay, Lady, what is so urgent that it’s a matter of life or death? What is it, a record that just has to be played on one of my radio stations? Or do you have an article that just has to be printed in one of my newspapers or magazines? Just spit it out, so I can eat in peace.” He resumed eating without looking up. He could feel her glaring at him.

  Sash gave a shaky sigh. “No. It’s nothing like that. I know that you’ll be skeptical about what I’m about to say, Mr. Plaine. You’ll probably think that I’m certifiably insane, but believe me so much has happened over the past few days—” Her voice wavered a bit, but she quickly regained her composure. “You see, Mr. Plaine, three days ago I was kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped?” Brandon looked up from his plate and raised a disbelieving brow.

  She nodded. “Yes, kidnapped. I know you don’t believe me, but all I’m asking is that you hear my story before you totally dismiss me.”

  Increasing his guard, Brandon nodded reluctantly. He would do anything to get rid of this woman.

  “Well, it all started three days ago, when Sweet and I went…”

  “Sweet?”

  “My brother, Trent. Sweet is his nickname. It’s short for sweetheart. You see Sweet and I were in the parking lot of the Barnyard Shopping Center when….”

  CHAPTER 2

  “So I hitch hiked here to Monterey to find you. You’re the only one who can help me, Mr. Plaine. The only one!” Sash’s voice broke. Closing her eyes momentarily she concentrated on breathing. She was determined not to shed any more tears. In the past few days she had cried enough tears.

  Taking a calming breath, she opened her eyes and reined in her emotions. Brandon sat with his arms folded across his chest. The meal he had intended on eating was only half finished. He had given her his full attention as she told her story and she was grateful for that, but she needed him to believe her. He had to believe her. Her brother’s life depended on it.

  Brandon sat contemplating all that he had heard in the past half-hour. Whether the tale was that of a deranged mind or not, what she had relayed to him was riveting. Not only was she pretty, but she had quite an imagination. She had told her tale with such heartfelt emotion it almost sounded believable—almost.

  “So you’re saying that you and your brother were snatched off a shopping center parking lot by two men in a gray cargo van…”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you were taken to a house in Santa Cruz…”

  “The Santa Cruz mountains.”

  “Pardon me, the Santa Cruz mountains, and you were kept prisoner for the past few days in this isolated spot until you escaped.”

  “Yes.

  “Then you made your way here to me, hitchhiking all the way, mentioning none of this to anyone.”

  “Yes, because you’re the one who they want to pay the ransom for my brother’s return.” Sash reached down into her boot and withdrew the small spiral bound notebook she had hidden there days ago. “I managed to sneak this notebook out of my purse when I was in the back of the van. I hid it in my boot along with the pen I told you about. I wrote everything I could down just in case something happened to us, so they wouldn’t get away with it.” She held the notebook out to Brandon.

  “Uh huh, I see.” Brandon looked at the notebook as if it were a snake about to strike. “And you say that you stabbed the kidnapper with this gold plated pen that was so lethal.”

  “Yes, it was a gold plated pen from Tiffany’s. I tried to gouge his eye out.” Sash’s voice was laced with bitterness.

  “Hmmm, you’re a tough one aren’t you?”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “Is that right?” Brandon couldn’t hide his skepticism. “And these so called kidnappers want me—who has never met you or your brother in my life—to pay them the ransom money.”

  “I know it sounds strange, but…”

  “But, the question is where is this brother of yours?”

  Sash gave a shaky sigh. “It’s like I told you, once I got upstairs nobody was there. I looked everywhere, all through the house, in the yard, in the woods around the house. I don’t know where my brother is.”

  “So you just ran away and left your brother with the kidnappers.”

  She didn’t answer as the words tore through her heart. Sash’s body visibly sagged. Her reply was an agonized whisper. “Yes, I guess I did.”

  Brandon watched the play of emotions dance across the woman’s pretty face. If her story wasn’t so preposterous he would almost feel sorry for her she looked so miserable, but he was beginning to get the picture. This woman wasn’t a singer or a writer. She was an actress and wanted a job.

  “Well, I have to give it to you, Miss Adams…”

  “Call me Sash. Everybody calls me Sash.”

  Brandon scoffed. “Oh, so we’re getting personal now. Okay, Sash, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I see where you’re going with this little act of yours, but I’ll tell you up front, I’m only an investor in the movie business. I don’t do the casting.”

  “What?” Sash’s patience with Brandon was waning. His attitude was sarcastic and condescending. “What are you talking about?”

  “I take it that you’re looking for a part in one of the movies I back.”

  “I told you, I’m not interested in any of that!” She had just about had it with this man. For thirty minutes she had been pouring her heart out about the most traumatic experience in her life and he thought it was a joke. “Mr. Plaine, haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

  She was beginning to feel that her desperate trek to Monterey to seek the help of this arrogant man might have been in vain. She opened the notebook that Brandon had pointedly ignored.

  “Everything that I could see, hear or smell I wrote down in this notebook. I’m here because they kept referring to you and getting the money from you.” She flipped through the notebook turning the pages rapidly. “Most of what they talked about I could only hear in snatches. They thought I was unconscious in the back of the van. There’s something here about your office in Monterey. I heard them say your telephone number. See, here it is! They mentioned some other buddy of theirs or someone named Buddy, and then something about a butterfly….”

  The rest of Sash’s words fell on deaf ears as Brandon froze at the mention of the butterfly. A flood of memories raced through his mind. His heart slammed against his chest so violently that for a moment he wondered whether he was having a heart attack.

  A butterfly. Buddy. Buddy and the butterfly. How could he ever forget?

  While Sash was preoccupied with rifling through the notebook, Brandon’s total concentration was directed toward appearing normal. He didn’t want to give this woman a clue that any word that she uttered had an effect on him. She looked up seemingly oblivious to the momentary change in his demeanor.

  “So you see, Mr. Plaine,” Sash continued. “This notebook might hold the key to all of this. Plus, I’ve got something else to show you.”

  Once again, Sash reached inside her pants pocket. This time she withdrew a photograph. She placed it face down on the table.

  Brandon looked at the photo then back at the woman. “What’s this?”

  Sash didn’t answer. She watched as Brandon slowly turned the photograph over and looked at it. The shock on his face was as vivid as it had been on her own when she first saw the horrifying photograph. There, staring back at him was the nutmeg brown face of a small boy. He sat alone, before a brick wall, looking straight into the camera. His handsome little face appeared strained and his dark brown eyes looked sad, but he seemed unaware of the gun barrel pointed at the back of his head.

  Shaken, Brandon’s eyes
traveled from the gun barrel to the gloved hand holding the gun. A single finger rested on the gun’s cocked trigger. His eyes strayed back to the boy’s angelic face as his heart began to hammer in his chest.

  “What kind of cruel joke is this?” His eyes stayed riveted on the boy.

  “This is no joke, Mr. Plaine. This is very real.”

  Brandon could feel the tension building in his body. “Who is this? Who is this kid?”

  “That’s Sweet.” Sash noticed the sweat that had formed on Brandon’s brow. The photo seemed to be having its intended affect. Good. “That’s my little brother. He’s five years old.”

  “Your brother? Five?” Brandon’s eyes shifted back to Sash. His eyes held questions that demanded answers. “Where did you get this picture?”

  “They gave it to me. They said that they were going to send one like it to you.”

  Excited now that she had his interest Sash thrust the open notebook toward Brandon again, pointing to a scribbled note.

  “See right here. I heard them say that they would send a picture of Sweet to you and that ought to cinch the deal.”

  Brandon tried not to seem too eager as he took the notebook from her hand. His eyes scanned the page beyond where she was pointing, eagerly trying to verify that what he was thinking wasn’t possible.

  Sash probed further, trying to ascertain where matters stood with Brandon. “I take it by our conversation and the look on your face that you haven’t received a picture like this or a ransom note yet?”

  Half-listening, Brandon shook his head in the negative, as he flipped through the pages of the notebook. There it was again, the words Buddy and butterfly. The scribbled notes didn’t confirm that the words might be related to each other, yet the coincidence—

  Brandon’s attention returned to the photograph. Sash pushed harder.

  “I realize that this picture is shocking, Mr. Plaine, but it was necessary that I show it to you so that you can understand the gravity of this situation. I know this all seems unbelievable. It certainly is to me, but my brother’s life is at stake here and I will do anything I have to do to save him.”

  Brandon returned his attention to the woman, still uncertain about her credibility. “Then why didn’t you go to the police if you want to save your brother?”

  Sash heard the continued skepticism. “I don’t know where Sweet is. I don’t know who has him.”

  “All the more reason to go to the police,” Brandon interjected.

  “I’m afraid that if I go to the cops the kidnappers might panic. If they panic then they might—” She choked back the words that were too frightening to utter.

  “I would think that this second kidnapper you mentioned would have panicked when he came back to the house and found out that you were gone. How badly did you hurt his partner?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is that you’re the only link I have to them and getting my brother back and that’s why I’m here.”

  Brandon glanced at the photo once again, studying it intently. If this was a joke it was one of the cruelest he had ever encountered. What kind of monster would use a child like this as a lark? What she was saying couldn’t be possible. This photograph had to be fake.

  “But I’ve never seen you or your brother in my life. I don’t know you. Why would anyone think that I would pay a ransom for strangers?”

  “From the conversation I heard it wasn’t me that was being held for ransom. It was Sweet.”

  Brandon’s heart beat quickened again. Buddy? This kid? What was the connection? “Why him?”

  He’s a child, an innocent child and I assume that they could get more for him. Besides it’s been all over the newspapers and TV about how you support organizations for children. You’ve given away a small fortune. Maybe they think you’re a sucker when it comes to kids.”

  Sucker huh? Brandon pondered her choice of words. Were they prophetic? “So you’re saying that they wanted him and not you. Then why did they snatch you?”

  “The man I beat up made it quite clear that the plan he and his friend had for me had nothing to do with a ransom.” She looked at Brandon steadily, her expression a hardened mask. She could see that he understood the meaning behind her unspoken words.

  “And when they were done with you?”

  “They planned on killing me. They didn’t appear to have any qualms about it. That’s why I had to get away. That’s why that man had to go down. It was him or me.”

  Brandon stifled a smile at the tough talk of a woman who stood about five feet five and couldn’t have weighed more than 125 pounds. His eyes strayed back to the photo. But there had to be a connection! “I’ve never heard of anyone kidnapping somebody then demanding the ransom from a stranger.”

  Sash agreed. “I haven’t either.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “I bet.”

  “Mr. Plaine, if I didn’t need you I wouldn’t be here,” snapped Sash, her annoyance at his attitude having reached its peak. “You can believe that! And I assure you, I am not in on this kidnap plot.

  Brandon wasn’t disturbed by the look that Sash gave him, but the photo of the gun pointed at the boy’s head did disturb him. Then of course there was the word Buddy and the reference to the butterfly. Coincidence?

  Turning the photo face down again, he sat back to assess Sash. Her face was pinched and anxious. There were dark circles under her eyes indicating a lack of sleep. It was obvious that something was amidst. Either she believed what she was telling him or she was a darn good actress because she had him seriously considering her story. Something was going on here. His eyes returned to the photo on the table as he used all of the instincts he had garnered as a newspaperman over the years to think this through, but nothing clicked. Buddy. He hadn’t heard that name in years. It could be possible that the reference was to the word buddy, except how was the word butterfly connected? That the two were related wouldn’t be common knowledge. Yet, the whole thing didn’t make sense! His eyes returned to Sash.

  “You know don’t you, Ms. Adams, that extortion is a major crime? If you have any part in this little charade you can spend a nice little stint in jail.”

  It was Sash’s turn to study Brandon. This was the man who was called a business genius. She had read at least one article about him and had admired his photograph. Brandon Plaine was a good-looking man and until now she thought that she would be impressed if she ever met him. She had been wrong.

  “If you think that I’m a criminal, Mr. Plaine, then you can call the police. I’m sure you have a cell phone. Call them, right now. I’ll sit here and wait.” Sash leaned across the table within inches of Brandon’s face. “But let me tell you this. If anything happens to my little brother because of you, I will hunt you down like a dog and the results won’t be pretty.”

  Brandon didn’t flinch as she looked at him steadily. She was good. Very good. He had a mind to call her bluff. Holding her eyes, he reached into his pants pocket and withdrew his cell phone. She made no effort to stop him from making the call. Brandon punched in a number and listened to it ring on the other end. He saw a flash of anger in the woman’s dark, thick lashed eyes, but she made no move to escape.

  Sash watched as Brandon made the call. He toyed with the edges of the picture of Sweet as he did so. She had done everything she could do to get him to believe her, but she had failed. His phone call to the police could seal Sweet’s fate. She wanted to break down and cry. Only her pride kept her from doing so. It seemed that everything had gone wrong from the moment she broke free of her tormentor. Yet she lived with the hope there was one person in this world that might help her. That’s why she had fought anger, fear, hunger and exhaustion to make her way to Brandon Plaine. Now, here he was within arms reach shattering her hope. It was so simple to her. If he paid the money they could get Sweet back; but she had failed to convince him of that. If anything happened to her brother, it would be her fault.

  Complete despair threatened to overcome h
er as Sash fought to hold back the tears. It was Brandon’s sharp, “Let’s go” that returned her attention to him. She looked up to see him standing over her. She frowned.

  “Where? Aren’t we waiting here for the police?”

  Brandon looked perturbed. “Did you hear me talking to the police?”

  “No.” Actually, she had been too lost in her own misery to pay attention to what he was doing.

  “Then come on,” Brandon demanded impatiently. Tossing a few bills on the table, he picked up the photo and pocketed it and the notebook. He was out of the door before it dawned on Sash that the police wouldn’t be coming.

  Hurriedly she slid out of the booth and exited the restaurant. She had to run to catch up with him.

  “Where are we going? To the police station?” She struggled to match his long legged strides.

  Brandon looked at her in exasperation. “No, we’re going to my office. I didn’t call the cops. I called the voice mail on my private line at the office. I got a call on that line yesterday that I thought was some sort of prank. The caller was the muffled voice of a man and he left a message that said that I would be getting the surprise of my life very soon. When I called my voice mail a few minutes ago there was a child’s voice on it.”

  Sash stopped and grabbed Brandon’s arm with enough force to catch his attention. “Was it—?” She didn’t dare hope that it could be Sweet, but Brandon’s nod confirmed it.

  “He said that his name was Trent, and that he was five years old.”

  “He’s alive,” she gasped. “I…I wasn’t sure.” Closing her eyes, she gave silent thanks, then returned her attention to Brandon. “Did he say anything else?”

  “Yes. He said that he needed my help.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Sash was surprised at the simplicity of Brandon’s office. She had expected lavish surroundings. Instead, the Peninsula headquarters of Plaine Deal Media consisted of five rooms located in an unassuming hacienda style building not far from downtown Monterey. The rooms were spacious but simply decorated. Brandon’s office was sparsely furnished, consisting of a much used rolltop desk, an old, scarred swivel chair, a couch and two worn, leather wingbacks. Framed front pages from a newspaper named The Call adorned the walls. The only photograph in the room was of a very young Brandon and an older version of himself whom she assumed was his father. It sat on his desk. The two men were dressed in fishing gear and they were holding up a large fish between them.