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Project: Runaway Bride
“No. He’s still at the church,” Lily told him. “Or maybe he’s gone to our loft or back to his hotel by now, I don’t know.”
A slow wave of relief washed through him. “So they didn’t run off together?” he asked, just to be sure. “Maybe they decided to elope instead, and she ran home to grab an overnight bag.”
Zoe snorted. “Definitely not. Not after all of the time and money that went into planning the wedding. Our parents and his would kill them.”
“She’s right,” Lily agreed. “If they were going to do something like that, they’d have done it weeks ago.”
Reid nodded, the wheels in his head whirling with other possibilities. “Do you think she was abducted in any way? Taken against her will?”
“Oh, my God!” Zoe wailed, while the tears spilled over the edge of Lily’s lashes.
“We certainly hope not,” she said carefully, holding it together moderately better than her younger sister. “We didn’t see or hear anything, and there were no signs of a struggle. At least not that we could tell.”
“No overturned furniture? A piece of her gown that might have caught on something and torn off?”
Zoe whimpered behind the hands that covered her face. They were tough questions, Reid knew, but if they wanted him to help, he had to have the answers.
“No, nothing like that,” Lily replied weakly.
He inclined his head. “Provided she left of her own volition, do you have any idea why she took off or where she’d go?”
“No. Why would any woman run away on her wedding day? Away from the church after she’s dressed and ready and everyone’s waiting for her?”
Reid had the kernel of an idea why, but couldn’t let it cloud his mind as he focused on the job at hand. Not after the way she’d done an about-face with him not so long ago.
Normally, he’d recommend that the family of a missing person call the police and file a report. In this case, however, he suspected he would have a better chance of tracking down Juliet Zaccaro on his own. He certainly had access to better resources than the authorities, as well as an edge they would never have—a previous personal relationship with the subject.
“I take it you want me to find her,” he remarked.
Recovered from her earlier show of emotion, Zoe rolled her eyes at him. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
He ignored the sharpness of her tone, responding with an edge of his own. “For real this time, right? Not like the time she asked me to find you.”
He raised a brow, his comment clearly directed at Lily, who blushed.
“Yes,” she answered evenly. “She really is missing, and we really do need you to find her. Please.”
“I’ll need more information from you and your family. Possibly permission to search your loft and access Juliet’s personal areas and assorted accounts. Banking, phone, computer, et cetera.”
“Of course. Anything that will help you find her.”
Despite his reluctance to get more deeply involved with the Zaccaro clan or go running after a woman who had already chosen another man over him, Reid found that he couldn’t deny their request.
He didn’t know where Juliet was or why she’d disappeared before she could walk down the aisle, but despite his personal feelings on the topic, he wouldn’t rest easy until he at least knew that she was safe.
* * *
Careful of her footing, Juliet wrapped the sides of her unbuttoned cardigan more tightly around her torso and followed the steep, uphill trail from the dock back to her family’s cabin. No one had been out to the Vermont lake house for quite some time, so the path was overgrown, the boat was still in storage and the inside of the house was in need a good dusting.
As far as Juliet was concerned, that made it the perfect spot to hide out for a while. She was thinking forever, but knew realistically that she could probably only stretch it out for a few days to a week, and she’d been here two days already.
She was a coward for running away for even that long. She should have walked into that vestibule and told her family there was something she needed to confide to them, just as she should have told them when she’d called things off with Paul the first time. Should have walked to the front of the church or asked Paul to come back and speak to her, then told him she’d changed her mind—again.
What was it about him, about the expectations of her family, even, that made her such a pushover and chicken?
Regardless of what anyone might have thought of her actions or mind-set, she shouldn’t have tucked tail and run. But darned if she could regret the decision. Even the thought of remaining in that church, in that gown, a moment longer than she had was enough to start her hyperventilating.
Never mind the idea of actually walking down the aisle. She was certain she would have passed out right there between the pews if she’d forced herself to go through with it. Or possibly thrown up on some of the guests, since an upset stomach had become her close and frequent companion.
The one thing she knew for sure was that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she got back. To everyone.
Already, her cell phone’s voice-mail box was filled to overflowing. According to the call log, it had started ringing only moments after she’d fled the church. As soon as her sisters had realized she was missing, she assumed.
But even though she knew her family must be worried sick, and the frequent ringing and beeping of her phone had driven her almost batty, she hadn’t bothered to check missed calls or listen to messages. She hadn’t even taken the time to turn the phone off until she’d been on the road and well away from Manhattan.
Instead, she’d hurried back to the loft she shared with her sisters, ignoring the strange looks she received from random strangers for racing around in public in her full-skirted, custom-made fairy-princess bridal gown, and grabbed her phone, money and a single change of clothes. She hadn’t known where she was going or how long she’d be gone, but even though she hadn’t wanted to take the time to slip out of the wedding dress right then and there, she’d suspected racing around in the thing would get old fast.
She’d been on the road a couple hours before deciding to head for the lake house, partly because she knew it would be well stocked with everything from food to clothing. Reception was lousy, though, so once she finally turned off her cell, it was doubtful anyone could reach her unless they sent up smoke signals or parachuted in.
And it was only for a few days, she told herself again. Just until she cleared her head and figured out what to do...about everything.
She was panting slightly as she reached the top of the hill and the end of the path that led into the clearing surrounding the cabin. It was brighter here, and warmer with the sun shining down on the house through the break in the trees.
Shading her eyes, she followed one long side of the wraparound porch railing to the front door...and came to a screeching halt at the sight of a hunter-green Range Rover parked right behind her silver-blue BMW.
Her heart lurched. Who did it belong to? Had someone followed her, or was it a complete stranger? And if it was a stranger, had he simply happened by—hard to do when the cabin was nearly impossible to find without directions—or was he, or she, up to no good?
A dozen home invasion/hostage movie-of-the-week scenarios played through her head and she swallowed nervously, wondering if she should move forward to investigate or race back the way she’d come to hide in the woods or hike into town for help.
Before she could make a decision, she heard a creak and heavy footsteps clipped across the porch floor. Her head swiveled and she found herself staring up into the dark, dangerous eyes of Reid McCormack.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless, almost feral grin. “Hey there, runaway bride.”
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