“There are traces of chloroform in the living room. She was definitely kidnapped. Monty’s calling the florist to see what he can find out.”
As she spoke, Monty hung up.
“The order was placed two hours ago,” he informed them. “The shop manager took the call. She said the caller was a man. She doesn’t remember his voice because it was a lousy cell-phone connection. He claimed to be Blake Pierson. He charged the flowers to the company’s FTD account. He was very specific, especially about the wording on the card. And he was insistent about the delivery time.”
“Two hours ago I was driving down from the farm with Devon,” Blake said.
“Exactly.” Monty scowled. “Whoever ordered the flowers knew that. Which means he knew when Devon would be arriving home.”
“Not based on the time we left he wouldn’t,” Devon clarified. “Blake and I hit a ton of city-bound traffic. The drive took an extra forty-five minutes.”
“Yet the kidnapper knew just when to ring your doorbell. How?”
Blake stiffened. His gaze slid to Devon, and he gave her a hard, meaningful look. “Tell him.”
Monty jumped on that. “Tell me what?”
“I meant to discuss this with you sooner.” Devon steeled herself for a blowup. “I was on the verge when that whole situation came up with my wearing a wire to trap James. At that point, it slipped my mind.”
“Stop backpedaling. Talk.”
A resigned sigh. “A bunch of times since Mom disappeared, I sensed I was being followed. Random occasions. Different places. Always when I was dr
iving. I became superalert, watching in my rearview mirror, pulling over to scrutinize the road. I never spotted anyone. So I figured I was just being paranoid.”
Monty was every bit as livid as she’d expected. “When were you going to mention this?” He waved away her reply, his forehead creased in concern. “If someone’s following you, they’re probably watching this place. Which means they know I’ve been here almost every day since Sally disappeared. It’s possible they saw me parked outside the night I taped James’s conversation. And they definitely know when you dropped by Blake’s place and how long you stayed. Given all that, you’re an even bigger threat to them than we realized.”
Devon swallowed, hard. “Does that mean they’d hurt Merry? Especially if they think she’s me?”
A glint of pain flickered in Monty’s eyes. “They’ve killed already. So I can’t rule it out. But my gut says no. The purpose of kidnapping you would more likely be to keep you out of the way while Vista finishes up whatever the hell he’s working on. It would keep me out of the way, too, because I’d be consumed with finding you.”
Monty paused. “You said this guy tailing you showed up at random times and places. That means he wasn’t stationed outside your house. He knew in advance where you’d be and where you were headed. Which makes me suspect that…’’ Monty didn’t finish his thought. He strode out of the room and headed for the staircase leading down to the basement.
“Why the basement? What are you looking for?” Devon demanded as she and Blake followed behind.
Monty had already reached the concrete floor. “Where do your telephone lines enter the house?”
“Over there.” Devon pointed at the gray plastic box mounted on the far cinder block wall.
“That’s why.” Monty made his way over to the box. He tilted back his head to examine the ceiling, spotted the ceramic light fixture overhead. Reaching up, he yanked at the pull string.
The light came on, illuminating that section of the basement.
He removed a Leatherman Micra from his pocket, pried open the flat screwdriver blade, and turned the large captive screw securing the access cover. With the screw hanging, he opened the gray box and peered inside.
“And this is what I’m looking for,” he muttered.
The miniature transmitter was attached to the inside of the box with double-sided tape. Monty’s forefinger traced the wires from the transmitter to the alligator clips that were clamped to the connectors on the main phone line. “That explains how your tail knew so much.”
Devon was staring. “He tapped my phone?”
“Yup. He’s probably parked nearby, with a pocket receiver and a tape recorder, listening in to all your calls.” Monty shut the gray box and retightened the screw. “Let’s leave that in place for now, in case we need to manipulate your wiretapper with false information.”
Turning, Monty studied his daughter. “What strangers have been in the house? Deliverymen? Repair people? Utility guys to read the meters?”
“Cable.” Devon’s head came up. “The night of my first date with James, Merry said something about a cable guy being here to fix my reception. I remember being surprised because I’d never noticed a problem.”
“That’s because there wasn’t one.” Monty rubbed his face. “Your date with James was a week ago last night. That means we have to mentally retrace your phone calls over the past eight days. Who you spoke to. What you said. Fortunately, I doubt the cable guy had enough time or opportunity to plant bugs around the town house. With Merry home, he probably just went straight for the phone, then got out. But I’ll have Sherman sweep the place, just to be sure.”