to her block, dawn light was spreading across the eastern horizon in vibrant splashes of color. A pink glow so dark it was almost red, fringed in pale gold. Something she’d heard her grandmother say when she was a child came to mind. “Red sky in the morning is a sailor’s warning.” A red morning sky forecast rain.
Nic slowed when she reached her driveway, tossed her head back, and sucked in huge gulps of fresh air. Her gaze lingered on the sky, alight with color, red and gold, pink and yellow.
Red and yellow.
Rubies and lemon drops.
Damn! Could it be that simple?
Had the final clue been the colors red and yellow? If so, what could it possibly mean? The color of her hair? Blonde. The color of her car? Red? That couldn’t be it.
Colors. Think colors. Paints, crayons, eye color, hair color, skin color.
Wiping the perspiration from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Nic paused at her kitchen door. She removed the mint green plastic spiral wristband with her key attached and unlocked the door.
Think sports. Colors. School colors?
Was there any college with red and yellow as school colors?
Nic closed the door behind her, walked into her kitchen, and saw that the coffeemaker she had set the night before had brewed eight cups of heavenly smelling black coffee.
Shower first. Coffee later.
School colors. Red and yellow.
If you mix red with yellow you get—orange.
Orange was the dominant color for how many colleges?
Nic yanked her cell phone from the clip on her walking shorts, hit the programmed number, and held her breath until she heard his voice.
“Rubies and lemon drops,” she said. “Red and yellow. Mix those colors and you get orange.”
“So you do.” Griffin Powell sounded wide-awake and not the least surprised to hear from her.
“Think school colors—what comes to mind when you say orange?”
“My first thought is UT, of course.” He cursed softly under his breath. “That’s too simple, but—”
“What if the woman he intends to abduct this morning is a basketball player from UT? I know it’s a long shot, but—”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“I can contact the campus police,” Nic said. “They may think I’m crazy and I can’t say I’d blame them, but—”
“Let me handle this,” Griff told her. “I’ve got an in at UT. I know the head of campus security and if I ask him to check on all the blonde players on the UT women’s basketball team, he’ll do it.”
“Thanks, Griff.” She hesitated, hating that, in this case, he could do more than she could and do it quicker. “Call me as soon as you find out anything.”
“You realize this could turn out to be nothing. Yes, red and yellow make orange and orange is a UT color. But you’ve already admitted that it really is a long shot. We’ve probably got it all wrong.”
“You mean I’ve got it all wrong.”
“If we’re partners, then we’re both wrong or we’re both right.”
“We are not partners.”
“Whatever you say, Nicki.”
Before she could come up with an adequate snappy comeback, he hung up. Smart-ass.
Nic eyed the coffee. She could almost taste it. Resisting temptation, she hurried to the bathroom, placed her cell phone on the vanity, and stripped. Once under the showerhead, she closed her eyes and let the warm water pepper down over her head and body.
The odds were her guess about the color orange was wrong, which would make their second guess that the potential victim was a UT basketball player also wrong.
Oh, God, please, please let me be right. And if I am, don’t let it be too late to save her.
Amber Kirby went for her morning run. During the week, she got up earlier than on weekends and usually had the trail to herself for at least part of her run. When the fall semester started and there were more students on campus, the trail wouldn’t be as solitary as it was today. She didn’t mind the solitude because she often used earphones to listen to her favorite tunes on her
Nic slowed when she reached her driveway, tossed her head back, and sucked in huge gulps of fresh air. Her gaze lingered on the sky, alight with color, red and gold, pink and yellow.
Red and yellow.
Rubies and lemon drops.
Damn! Could it be that simple?
Had the final clue been the colors red and yellow? If so, what could it possibly mean? The color of her hair? Blonde. The color of her car? Red? That couldn’t be it.
Colors. Think colors. Paints, crayons, eye color, hair color, skin color.
Wiping the perspiration from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Nic paused at her kitchen door. She removed the mint green plastic spiral wristband with her key attached and unlocked the door.
Think sports. Colors. School colors?
Was there any college with red and yellow as school colors?
Nic closed the door behind her, walked into her kitchen, and saw that the coffeemaker she had set the night before had brewed eight cups of heavenly smelling black coffee.
Shower first. Coffee later.
School colors. Red and yellow.
If you mix red with yellow you get—orange.
Orange was the dominant color for how many colleges?
Nic yanked her cell phone from the clip on her walking shorts, hit the programmed number, and held her breath until she heard his voice.
“Rubies and lemon drops,” she said. “Red and yellow. Mix those colors and you get orange.”
“So you do.” Griffin Powell sounded wide-awake and not the least surprised to hear from her.
“Think school colors—what comes to mind when you say orange?”
“My first thought is UT, of course.” He cursed softly under his breath. “That’s too simple, but—”
“What if the woman he intends to abduct this morning is a basketball player from UT? I know it’s a long shot, but—”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“I can contact the campus police,” Nic said. “They may think I’m crazy and I can’t say I’d blame them, but—”
“Let me handle this,” Griff told her. “I’ve got an in at UT. I know the head of campus security and if I ask him to check on all the blonde players on the UT women’s basketball team, he’ll do it.”
“Thanks, Griff.” She hesitated, hating that, in this case, he could do more than she could and do it quicker. “Call me as soon as you find out anything.”
“You realize this could turn out to be nothing. Yes, red and yellow make orange and orange is a UT color. But you’ve already admitted that it really is a long shot. We’ve probably got it all wrong.”
“You mean I’ve got it all wrong.”
“If we’re partners, then we’re both wrong or we’re both right.”
“We are not partners.”
“Whatever you say, Nicki.”
Before she could come up with an adequate snappy comeback, he hung up. Smart-ass.
Nic eyed the coffee. She could almost taste it. Resisting temptation, she hurried to the bathroom, placed her cell phone on the vanity, and stripped. Once under the showerhead, she closed her eyes and let the warm water pepper down over her head and body.
The odds were her guess about the color orange was wrong, which would make their second guess that the potential victim was a UT basketball player also wrong.
Oh, God, please, please let me be right. And if I am, don’t let it be too late to save her.
Amber Kirby went for her morning run. During the week, she got up earlier than on weekends and usually had the trail to herself for at least part of her run. When the fall semester started and there were more students on campus, the trail wouldn’t be as solitary as it was today. She didn’t mind the solitude because she often used earphones to listen to her favorite tunes on her
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