The Will Trent Series 7-Book Bundle

by Karin Slaughter

  Fielding was in the second wave of passengers coming up the jetway. She didn’t look confused at all as she walked into the terminal. She headed off with purpose, almost jogging toward the escalators to the underground train.

  Vanessa ordered, “Stay on the door.”

  The film sped up, but not so much that they couldn’t make out the faces. The tech was good. The film was back at normal speed when Joseph Allen Jenner’s face came on-screen. He was one of the last passengers off the plane. He was holding the girl’s hand, dragging her along. Instead of heading toward the exit, he took her to an adjoining gate. A second and third camera tracked their progress as he led her to the back wall and forced her to sit in a chair. The girl was still groggy. She yawned, looking around with seemingly unfocused eyes.

  “She looks drugged,” Amanda noted.

  “That’s fairly common,” Vanessa supplied. She’d worked at the airport long enough to know how these people operated. “We had a kid abducted on the West Coast last year. Drugged out of his mind. Flight attendants assumed he was sleeping, which is what you want from a kid on a long flight. He was passed off at the international terminal and on his way to Amsterdam by the time LAX tracked the internal flight.”

  “Did you recover him?” Will asked.

  Vanessa nodded, but Will could tell from her expression that the kid hadn’t escaped unscathed. Not many of them did.

  Stranger abductions were rare—statistically, a kid was much more likely to be harmed by a family member—but the Internet was making things easier for predators. Will had been involved in a sting several years ago where a man took photos of kids on the playground and posted them to a private chat room. His plan was to snatch a kid that he could trade with another predator. It was a pedophile’s version of the old Sears Wish Book. The man had been arrested, but these assholes were like cockroaches. For every one you caught, there were thousands hiding in the walls.

  Like Joseph Allen Jenner.

  On the security footage, it was obvious that the little girl was coming around. She was more awake now, taking in her surroundings, fidgeting in the chair. Jenner was visibly on edge. He kept looking at his watch, checking the time against the clock on the wall.

  “He’s waiting for something,” Vanessa said. “Fast-forward.”

  The tape sped up almost ten full minutes. Jenner took another look at his watch and snatched up the girl by the arm. He tried to move her forward, but she stopped, standing rooted in place. Her mouth moved as she spoke, probably asking to be taken to the restroom. Jenner looked furious. She was throwing off his perfect timing.

  He dragged her into the bathroom, where security cameras could not reach.

  “Where’s Fielding while all of this is happening?” Vanessa demanded. “I want to know how she got out of here.”

  “We lost her,” one of the techs said. “Fielding left through the North Terminal. We don’t know where she went from there.”

  Will said, “Jenner disappeared in the South Terminal.”

  “Put more people on the parking exit videos,” Vanessa ordered. Will knew more than two hundred cars had left the airport in the forty-five minutes between the Seattle plane landing and the airport being shut down.

  “Fielding’s got a record,” Faith said. She pulled up the woman’s mugshot. “Simple battery, child neglect. Two years ago in Jackson, Mississippi. She’s off probation. No registered Atlanta address.” The mugshot was replaced by Eleanor Fielding’s arrest report.

  “My God,” Amanda mumbled. “She was a foster parent.”

  “We got her at the exit,” the earlier man said. “She was one of the first cars we stopped. Fielding left through long-term parking, North Terminal. Black Mercedes.” He flashed up the car, which had been captured on the security camera at the main exit to the parking area. The Mercedes was thoroughly searched. The trunk was popped. The back seat and floorboard were checked. A mirror was even dragged under the car to inspect the chassis. The woman stood there with her hands on her hips, conveying what a huge inconvenience this all was.

  Will checked the time stamp on the footage. Twelve fifty-two. He remembered Jenner checking his watch twenty minutes later.

  “There she goes,” Amanda said as Fielding got back into her Mercedes and drove off. The camera tracked her to the split at the interstate. She took 75 South.

  Faith said, “Fielding paid for the flight for her and the girl with her AmEx card. It goes to a local address on Lake Spivey. The Emerald Drive address matches her driver’s license.”

  “Call Clayton County and tell them to bring her in,” Vanessa told one of her men. The guy jogged toward the door.

  Faith said, “She flew out yesterday afternoon, so it was up and back.”

  Amanda asked, “What about Jenner’s flight?”

  There was a pause as Faith looked up the information. “Up and back, too. He left three hours before Fielding did. His flights were booked with a Visa card,” she said. “Belongs to Eleanor Fielding. Tracks back to the same Emerald Drive address.” Faith gave an incredulous snort. “She used her SkyMiles to upgrade their tickets.”

  “Fewer questions in first class,” Vanessa noted.

  “It was an overnight trip,” Amanda said. “Where did they stay?”

  Faith did some more quick typing. The screen showed a credit card receipt. “Hilton Seattle Airport and Conference Center,” she said. “Two-hundred-six-dollar charge.” She pulled up the website for the hotel. After a few clicks, she’d managed to pull up the room options. “A two-double-bed room with the light-rail package that takes you to and from the airport is a hundred thirty-four bucks. With tax, meals, I’d guess that’d put them at around the two-hundred-dollar mark.” Faith went back to the credit card receipts. “No rental car on either credit card. Looks like they stayed at the hotel and waited.”

  Amanda said, “And then someone delivered a little girl to their door.”

  The room went silent. They all stared at the photo Will had taken of the little girl. Abigail. Maybe that was her real name. They would want to make sure she responded if called. These were the types of people who thought about such things. They booked the tickets ahead of time. They coordinated the exchanges. The Emerald Drive address was probably nothing more than a drop. Eleanor Fielding wouldn’t be there. No one would be there.

  Will felt the enormity of the situation start to overwhelm him. The little girl had been so close to him in the bathroom. He could’ve reached out and grabbed her. He could’ve knelt down and asked her if the man was her father. He could’ve punched the guy in the face and taken her away from him.

  Vanessa said, “He’s invoked legal counsel. We can’t talk to him. What’s your plan?”

  Amanda didn’t hesitate. “We talk to his lawyer.”

  three

  Joseph Allen Jenner was a fifty-two-year-old widower. His wife had passed away three years ago. Her obituary listed natural causes, though a call to a sympathetic records supervisor at Emory University hospital revealed she’d had a heart attack at the age of forty-eight. No children were mentioned. Her only survivor was listed as Joe Jenner, lawyer, philanthropist, president of the Jenner Children’s Foundation, which helped underprivileged children get access to after-school literacy programs.

  Amanda sat across from Jenner in the interrogation room of the airport precinct. The walls were a crisp white, absent the usual scuff marks, cobwebs, and dirt that Will saw in just about every police station he’d stepped foot in.

  She said, “I’m Deputy Director Amanda Wagner with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. This is my associate, Special Agent Will Trent.”

  Jenner held a bloodied rag to his mouth. His voice was muffled but clear. “I’m not required by law to say anything to you.”

  Amanda said, “You obviously know your rights, Mr. Jenner. I would expect nothing less from a tax attorney.”

  Jenner’s eyebrow went up, though that was the only indication of surprise that they’d already learned his
name. He took away the rag. “In that case, I’d like some ice water, please. And some aspirin.”

  Amanda nodded toward the two-way mirror. Will guessed Vanessa Livingston was repeating the gesture to one of her minions.

  Amanda told Jenner, “You came in on American three-sixty-two this morning. You boarded the plane alone. Your partner, Ms. Fielding, boarded behind you. She was carrying a child whose boarding pass identified her as Abigail Fielding.”

  Jenner didn’t comment.

  “Ms. Fielding’s credit cards were used to purchase three tickets. One for you, one for her, and one for the little girl. It is Abigail, isn’t it? We don’t know what to call her.”

  Again, Jenner kept his own counsel. He looked at the table. Will guessed his teeth were aching, especially the jagged bits where they’d been cracked in two.

  Amanda asked, “Who did you hand Abigail off to, Mr. Jenner?”

  Jenner gave a chest-rattling sigh. “Deputy Director Wagner,” he began. “Surely, you’re familiar with the law. You’re not allowed to question me once I ask for a lawyer.”

  “As you are your own counsel, Mr. Jenner, I am speaking to you in the capacity of a law enforcement official to a legal representative. If you’d like for me to use more formal language, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  He stared at her, his brow furrowed. Will guessed the man was more conversant with Cayman Island tax shelters than the loopholes of criminal law. Finally, he gave a crooked grin. “Very good, Deputy Director. It’s refreshing to speak to someone on your side of the law who actually has a brain in his head.” He corrected himself. “Her head.”

  Amanda gave a tight smile. “What a wonderful compliment.”

  He laughed. “You people think you’re so smart, but what’s really going to happen here? You can only hold me for twenty-four hours. You’ve got nothing concrete with which to charge me. It’s really rather pathetic.”

  Amanda said, “Mr. Jenner, at this moment, your client—Mr. Jenner—is facing charges of child abduction, transporting a minor across state lines for the purpose of sexual activity, child trafficking, impeding a police investigation, evading arrest, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer.”

  “Assault?” Jenner sounded outraged. “He attacked me. I was just walking toward the stairs, minding my own business.” He held up his busted watch. “This is a six-thousand-dollar Rolex.”

  “We have a witness, a Mr. McGhee, who remembers it differently.” The Cowboy in the red pickup truck. Travis McGhee’s background check had been squeaky clean, but he’d told Will he’d swear on a stack of Bibles that Jenner had asked for it. That Will hadn’t gotten around to asking the man to lie was only mildly surprising.

  “Witness, huh?” Jenner was still unimpressed. The smug look on his face made Will want to break the rest of his teeth. “Really, Deputy Director. You’re boring me at this point. Can’t you come up with something interesting?”

  Amanda said, “Mr. Jenner, you realize your client was on camera from the moment he stepped foot inside the airport?” To send the point home, she fanned out the still photographs the techs had taken from the security footage. “This one is particularly interesting. See where your client is wearing a wig and glasses here?” She pointed to the photo. “And yet, here, it seems he took off the wig and glasses. And, of course, once we got him into custody, we learned that he’d reversed his jacket and changed his pants into shorts. What do you think a jury will make of that?”

  “I doubt a jury will hear any of it.” He glanced down at the table again. “It’s always nice to have visual aids, isn’t it? Though who that man is in the bad wig is beyond me.”

  Will followed his gaze. Jenner wasn’t looking at the photos. He was trying to see Will’s watch. Will resisted the urge to cover his wrist. The cuff of his sleeve obscured the dial.

  Jenner said, “As I stated earlier, you can only hold me for twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s correct,” Amanda told him. “But a lot can happen in twenty-four hours.”

  “You’re right,” Jenner agreed. “Maybe my client will change his mind about that deal. You never know.”

  Will told Amanda, “Maybe we should check on Ms. Fielding.”

  Amanda had done this for so long that her face barely registered a change in expression. She said, “Yes. She seemed more talkative than our friend here.”

  Jenner couldn’t hide his curiosity, though he tried. “Who’s Ms. Fielding?”

  “Your partner in the black Mercedes.”

  Jenner smirked.

  Amanda said, “I’m sure she’ll be more forthcoming. Ms. Fielding’s been in the system before. She knows a jury won’t look kindly on a second charge.”

  “She’s invoked counsel,” Jenner said. A good guess, Will supposed, if they’d actually been able to find the woman. “You can’t talk to her without a lawyer present.”

  Amanda stood from the table. “We’ll make sure you get your ice water, though I’m afraid it’s against the law for us to give prisoners any drugs, harmless as aspirin may seem.”

  Jenner waved his hand, dismissing her words. “I’ll be here when you want to talk again.” He actually winked at her. “Shaking in my boots, as it were.”

  She left the pictures on the table. Will followed her outside the room.

  Amanda waited until the door was closed. Still, she kept her voice low. “He’s trying to see your watch.”

  Will nodded. “There’s another hand-off. Fielding’s supposed to meet someone else.”

  “It would make sense,” Amanda said. “He’s smug for a reason. You know he’s done this before. They trade these kids like used cars, moving them around the country so no one can track them.” Her tone held a low fury. “I’m sure Jenner’s been on the receiving end a few times.”

  Vanessa joined them. She had a sheet of paper in her hand. “Nothing on our end. The Lake Spivey house is vacant. It’s been in foreclosure for two years. There was mail in the box addressed to Eleanor Fielding. The neighbor’s a bit nosy, says a black Mercedes comes by once or twice a week and picks up mail. The car is registered to that address, too.”

  “Smart,” Amanda said. “She’s using the house as a drop.”

  “Fielding’s last known address is a vacant lot. I’ve got a gal at Social Security who’s going to try to give us a hand, but I’m not sure how long that’ll take.”

  “Did you get an address on Jenner?”

  “He lives and works at the Residences at the Ritz-Carlton. We talked with the head of security there, but he wasn’t willing to play ball, even when we told him a kid was involved. We can’t search Jenner’s apartment or office without a warrant. The attendant at the front desk is retired Atlanta Police. He accidentally left his logbook open for us. No visitors with kids. Not seeing Jenner—not seeing anyone. It’s not a child-friendly kind of place. No other addresses listed for him, so that’s a dead end. What about you?” Vanessa nodded toward the room. “You get anything out of him?”

  “Just that he’s an arrogant asshole,” Amanda admitted. “Will thinks there’s another hand-off. I’m prone to agree. Jenner’s waiting for something. His watch is broken. He tried to look at Will’s several times.”

  Will guessed, “He’s going to try to make a plea deal when he’s sure the next hand-off has happened. He’ll tell us where to find Abigail. It won’t be his fault when she’s not there.”

  Vanessa provided, “All the airport hotels are checking out clean. We’ve sent agents there to look at footage with their own eyes. We’re not taking anybody’s word on this.” She crossed her arms. “Wherever Abigail is being hidden, it’s not in plain sight. What’re you thinking, Will?”

  Will looked down at his watch. The hands showed two-fifteen. Will pulled out the stem and moved the hands ahead thirty minutes. “I’m thinking it’s time we let Jenner go to the bathroom.”

  four

  Will kept Jenner in cuffs as he led the man down the corridor to the men’s room. He expec
ted protests or outrage, but maybe part of Jenner knew that he deserved to be duckwalked like a prisoner. Or maybe he was so certain he’d get out of this that he was content to suffer the small travails.

  “Here,” Will said, holding open the door. His sleeve pulled back. He saw Jenner note the time. Obviously, he liked what he saw. The snarky smile was back.

  Will followed him into the small room. One toilet. One sink. An overhead fan that rattled like an old man’s lungs. Will took out his handcuff key and removed the bracelets. Jenner rubbed his wrists, trying to get the circulation back into them. He asked Will, “What were you doing in that bathroom?”

  “I’ll answer if you do.”

  Jenner smiled, showing his cracked teeth. He winced from the pain. “You should feel lucky I’m not going to sue you for dental costs.” He turned back to the sink, his eye on Will’s as he turned on the hot water faucet. “I’m sure implants will run into the tens of thousands.”

  “You’ve got the money.”

  “Do I?” he asked. He must’ve read the answer in Will’s eyes. “I guess you tracked my name through my boarding pass. I wonder how? I didn’t have it on me. Maybe one of my fellow passengers gave up my seat number?”

  Will shrugged.

  “The credit card wouldn’t go back to me. Google, maybe?”

  Will didn’t answer.

  “It’s amazing how privacy has gone out the window since 9/11. I’m surprised you haven’t marked me for rendition.”

  “We’re looking into it.”

  Jenner chuckled good-naturedly. He cupped some warm water into his hands, leaned down, and slurped. Will waited as he swished the water around inside his mouth. Jenner spat a pink stream of blood into the sink. He repeated the process twice before he stood back up. “I know Eleanor isn’t talking. Her lawyer makes your boss look like a puppy dog.”

  Will doubted that, though he took on board that Eleanor Fielding probably had a woman for a lawyer. Will should’ve known better, but he was always surprised by the awful things some women got up to. He wanted to think it was for the money and not for spite. Or worse.