Without even thinking about his actions, Nick strode across the room and pulled Liza against him, stroking her back in a soothing motion. When she began to calm down, he asked, “Did he say anything else?”
She shook her head.
“I hate to tell you this, but ‘Where’s Emily?’ isn’t much of a threat.”
She sniffed and burrowed deeper against him. “He had a knife.”
Nick asked enough to realize the knife was a serious weapon. “Okay, so who’s Emily?”
At once, Liza stiffened and tried to draw away.
“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”
She avoided his gaze even as she put some distance between them. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
“Back to the hotel.”
“I’m not sure that’s safe. What if the man finds you there?”
Her green eyes were huge as she thought about his words. “I—I don’t think he’ll come back,” she whispered.
“Because you’re going to call the police?”
She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she wailed, her words coming out muffled.
“You’ve got to stay calm, Liza, if you’re going to get better. You have to concentrate on eating and sleeping. That’s what’s important.”
She shook her head. “Emily is— I mean, other things— I have to go to the hotel.”
Nick sat back and sighed. She might be weak. She might not have shown good judgment in skipping meals and sleep. But she was as stubborn as any woman he’d ever seen. “Okay, I’ll take you to the hotel, if you’ll let me come with you. And if you’ll call the police.”
“Maybe I should,” she finally said with a sigh. Then she looked at him again, drilling him with her green eyes. “Do you promise to keep everything you overhear between me and the police a secret?”
“I promise,” he said solemnly.
Once Dr. Hathaway got her to her room in the hotel, he told her to go shower and change clothes while he contacted the police.
“Ask for non-uniforms, please,” she asked in a wobbly voice. “I don’t want anyone in the hotel to wonder about the cops.”
He nodded.
So far he’d done exactly as she’d asked in everything, so she decided to trust him. Besides, a shower and clean clothes were necessary before she could face anyone.
But she felt she had to report the man to the police because she suspected he had something to do with Emily’s disappearance. Uncle Joe had told her not to speak to anyone, but she thought he would agree to her telling the Saratoga Springs police. They could contact the police in Prosperino, California, where her uncle’s huge estate was located.
Fifteen minutes later, she was exhausted but clean, dressed in black slacks and a green sweater, her hair still wet. She moussed and quickly styled it. Then she headed for the living room of her suite.
Dr. Hathaway stood as she entered and for the first time she noticed two other gentlemen in the room who also got to their feet. At least the police here were prompt.
“Liza Colton,” the doctor said smoothly as he came forward and took her arm, “these gentlemen are John Ramsey and Bill Wilson, detectives with the Saratoga Springs Police Department.”
He seemed to intuitively know she was feeling quite weak. Easing her into a nearby chair, he waved the officers back to the sofa. Then he hurried to answer a knock on her door.
Liza tensed, wondering if the knife-wielding stranger from the hospital had followed her back here. Instead, a waiter rolled in a cart. The doctor handed him some money and escorted him to the door.
“I ordered coffee,” he told the detectives, “and a snack. Ms. Colton needs to eat. This is her first time on her feet and she’s weak.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee myself,” one of the detectives said before turning to her. “Can you tell me what the problem is, Ms. Colton?”
Liza licked her lips, fearful of what she had to say. She looked at Dr. Hathaway again, and he nodded in support. “My—my cousin was kidnapped several days ago. At least, that’s what the ransom note said.”
The men exchanged looks. “What is your cousin’s name?” one of them asked.
“Emily Blair Colton.” She noted the doctor’s eyes narrowing, as he recognized the name. She added, “My uncle is Joe Colton. He’s a former California senator.” She knew his name would be much more recognizable than Emily’s. He was a multi-millionaire, as well as politically active.
“And the man today? The doctor said he threatened you.”
“Not exactly. He scared me by the way he stared at me, like he was going to hurt me, and he had a huge knife, but all he asked was where Emily was.” Before the policemen could speak, she hurriedly added, “I know that’s not a threat—” she spared the doctor a look “—but somehow I think he’s connected to her kidnapping.”
“You could be right. Can you describe him?”
“Yes.”
“If I can borrow the phone, I’ll call the station, see if we have any information on the kidnapping and request a police artist to come over.”
At her nod, Detective Ramsey stood and crossed to the phone.
Dr. Hathaway put a glass of milk in front of her along with a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies.
“We’ll help you eat those cookies,” he said with a grin, “but you’ve got to have one or two, okay?”
“I just finished breakfast,” she protested.
“That was several hours ago, and we both know you’re a little behind in the nourishment department.”
She blushed, aware of the other detective’s sharp look. She certainly didn’t want to explain anything else to these strangers. Including the fact that she’d talked to Emily after her escape and thought Emily was trying to contact her again.
She gasped and stared at the doctor. What if he mentioned the message from Mrs. Tremble?
He’d been watching her. “What?” he asked, kneeling beside her chair and reaching out to feel of her forehead. “Your throat hurt?”
“Uh, yes, a little.”
He snapped his fingers. “I forgot to give you the antibiotics.” He stood and pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket. “Here, take one of these morning and night until they’re all gone.”
Detective Ramsey returned to the sofa. “The police artist will be here in about fifteen minutes. Now, Ms. Colton, the kidnapping is being handled by the FBI. Our superintendent was quite surprised to discover anyone here knew about it.”
She nodded.
With barely a pause, he continued, “Which made him wonder why someone involved in the kidnapping would come all this way to ask you about Ms. Colton.”
Liza had been lifting the milk glass to her mouth to help her swallow the pill, and his question caused the glass to wobble, splashing milk on the coffee table.
Dr. Hathaway quickly steadied her hand and helped her take a drink. It gave her time to think of her answer.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She used a napkin to wipe up the spill. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’m a little weak today. To answer your question, Emily and I are very close, more like sisters than—than cousins. I suppose