by James, Ed
“My folks might help. Maybe.” I stare off toward the ferry, dowsed in floodlights. “That must be the Bremerton ferry coming in.”
“Do the FBI know who you are?”
“I don’t know.”
“They were there incredibly quickly.”
“That’s why I said I don’t know.”
“If they don’t, they won’t expect you on the ferry.”
“I thought you said to stay off public transport.”
“Only use it as a last resort, okay? And assess the risk first.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a billfold. “Here.” She tosses a wad of cash in my lap, all high-denomination notes. “This should get you where you need to be.”
I take it. “There’s a couple thousand here. You always carry that much?”
“Never know when you might need to split. Always have a stash. And any time you run into trouble, rent a car. Say you lost your wallet and ID. Trust me, these places love helping lone women.”
“Thanks.” I rub at my nose, then brush away tears from my cheeks. Didn’t even know I was crying. “I need a Kleenex.”
She passes me a small pack. “Here.” She strokes Ky’s cheek. “You’re on your own now, Kaitlyn. You can’t stay anywhere long for the first couple of months. A day or two at most, but stick to hours for the first week. All I can do is wish you luck. You’ll need it. Now, go get that ferry.”
I sit there, holding on to the baby. Wishing I could just stay with her, that everything was okay. “Can’t I—?”
“No. You need to move.”
“Okay.” I pocket the wad of cash, then open the door and step onto the sidewalk. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She looks me up and down. “You know, you actually look the part. A young mom in a tough situation. And pull up your hood.”
I comply, hiding my natural blonde hair from the world. “Okay. Thanks for this.” I hold Ky right against my torso and walk off, heeding the white man as I cross the road. I stop and look back, but she’s driven off.
I’m on my own.
Seventeen
CARTER
21:00
This was Carter’s favorite interrogation suite. Small, but not so small that he couldn’t post a hulking junior agent by the door like he was security. And it had a clock opposite the suspect, with the loudest tick he’d heard outside of an antique store.
Marie Edwards sat back in the chair and ran her long fingers through her blonde hair. Pale-pink lipstick, black eyeliner. Different clothes from the surveillance video, but still. A good match. The woman Carter had picked up at the bus station, but either she passed the baby on to someone else—Abduction 101—or they had the wrong person.
Carter stayed standing by the door. “Marie, my job is to find Ky Bartlett. He’s six weeks old. Kids at that age are incredibly fragile.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Brooklyn accent, a few thousand miles out of place.
Carter pulled out a tablet computer and walked over to the table, resting it on the scarred wood in her eyeline. “This looks a lot like you.”
Marie gave it a brief look. “Sure does. Ain’t me though.”
“You know what happens to women like you who steal children?”
“I heard what happens is you let them go, then assault some poor homeless woman?”
She was well-informed. “Twenty years in a federal prison, Marie. And we will layer other charges on top of that.”
“You bringing in every blonde in Seattle?”
“Just those who match this description.” Carter tapped the screen. “Marie, let’s save ourselves a ton of time and hassle, okay? Help me find the baby. Who has him?”
“Listen, buddy, whatever you think I was doing? I was out for a dinner with a couple girlfriends. The Five Guys in Ballard. Chinsol dropped me downtown afterwards, then some asshole mugged me.”
A bullshit alibi, no doubt backed up by at least one friend on the payroll. “When were you there from?”
“Seven?”
“It’s nine now. Takes a good half hour to get to King Street Station, which was mighty close to the Greyhound station. You telling me you were in Five Guys for close to ninety minutes?”
“We must’ve gone there at eight. Had a few drinks first in a bar. Lost track.”
“You got a receipt?”
“Debi paid. Sorry.”
Another paid alibi, probably. “You want to give me her number so I can call her?”
“Sure.”
“Three women going for burgers in Ballard. Seems a bit strange.”
“In America? Get over yourself. And besides, there were four of us.”
“Cut the crap. Here’s what happened. You abducted Ky Bartlett, took the bus downtown, handed him to someone else, then I caught you. You’re going to prison for twenty-plus years. Now, do the right thing and tell me where Ky is.”
“Dude.” She dabbed at her forehead. “You see this? You see what that asshole did to me? You should be bringing him in, not busting my ass.”
“Tell me who has Ky.”
“I have no idea who that even is.”
Carter sat back and folded his arms. “You give him to your brother?”
“What? No. Seriously, what’s going on here? I thought you were going to help me find the guy who attacked me. Some asshole has a Taser and is attacking women? And you’re going hard on me? Should I have a lawyer here?”
“You tell me. Sure Boris Zangiev can afford a good one.”
“Who?”
“Your boss, right?”
She shifted in her seat so she was side-on to Carter. “No.”
“Your brother works for him.”
“Maybe. I don’t speak to Marcus all that much.”
“He just so happened to be at the same location you took this kid from? You didn’t hand Ky to your brother?”
“You just said I got the bus.”
“Boris Zangiev didn’t pay you to abduct Ky?”
The door opened to a crack and SAC Karen Nguyen peered inside. Wearing sweat pants and a skinny tee, her hair loose and damp. She beckoned Carter out into the corridor.
“Back in a sec, Marie.” Carter grabbed his tablet. “You should start telling me the truth.” He left the room, waiting for the door to shut behind him. “Karen.”
Nguyen scrunched her wet hair into a ponytail and squeezed water out. “Who is she?”
“We picked her up at King Street Station. You been to the pool or something?”
“Long story. Do you have Ky?”
“No. I think she took Ky, but dropped him with someone else.” Carter slumped against the wall. “Someone’s attacked her, though. She’s claiming a mugging. And she has an alibi, but it’s bullshit.”
“Max, is this like your screw-up earlier, when you picked up that poor homeless woman? I need proof, Max. Come on. I need you on your A-game here. Let her go.”
Carter checked his smartwatch. Still early in the lifecycle, but they were no further forward. “Look, I’ve got intel placing her and her brother at the abduction scene.”
“That’s the sister of Marcus Edwards?”
“Right. I’m thinking they tag-teamed it, swapping the kid between them.”
“Why?”
“Boris Zangiev.”
“Good god.” Nguyen stared up at the ceiling. “You think he’s involved?”
“It’s probable.” Carter shrugged. “Landon’s rich and is connected to Zangiev. Money is the root of all evil, and all that.”
“Isn’t it?” Nguyen squeezed water out of her hair again. “But if Zangiev has him, I’d expect some sort of communication to the Bartletts. A list of demands. Meet me here or they die. Transfer money to this account. You got anything?”
“Nothing they’ve told me. I’m getting close to bringing out the pliers and the blow torch, though.”
“Right.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t need you wasting time on her, Max. We don’t have pro
of that she’s had Ky. I’ll get Mimi to run this. You get back up there and tear Landon a new one. Okay? Why is he being extorted?”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“Max, I need you to recover Ky Bartlett. Both our asses are on the line here.”
* * *
21:10
Carter drove toward Capitol Hill through light traffic, passing a Whole Foods Market that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been out this way. A hard right and he was on the direct path back.
He couldn’t escape the feeling that he’d been fed a pack of lies from Chase Bartlett. Corrupt Russian financiers, elaborate extortion plots—all made perfect sense. But maybe too much sense.
Still, why was Marcus Edwards outside the house? Why was Marie Edwards near the bus station? That coincidence gnawed away at his brain, twisting itself inside out until it all seemed reasonable.
The intel had gone out across the police radio network, so any cop on Zangiev’s payroll could’ve passed it on, sent his minions there.
But he still liked Marie Edwards for it. It was such a good fit.
His cell blasted in the holder. A FaceTime call from Kirsty. Emma should never have given her a cell phone, but her concerns about security trumped everything.
He hit answer and put on a smile, his gaze darting between the screen and the road. “Hey, sweetie.”
Her little face lit up the screen, twisting from side to side. “Daddy!”
Made his heart melt seeing her. “Daddy’s driving, honey. Can’t speak long.”
“Okay.” Kirsty disappeared, replaced by Bill. Carter’s heart sank. He was using her to get at him. “Son, she woke up and won’t go back to sleep without you telling her a story.”
Carter knew from bitter experience that arguing against either of them was a futile enterprise, certainly less hassle than just going along with it. “Okay, put her back on.”
Kirsty’s face was side-on to her fluffy pink pillow. She seemed wired, nowhere near sleep.
“There was this little girl and she lived in a fairytale castle. One day, this big ogre knocked at the door, and the little girl didn’t know what to do.” Carter pulled up outside one of those bubble tea places that were springing up everywhere. Kirsty was still way too young to get into the craze. Who was he kidding? “Should she open the door and let the big smelly ogre in? Or should she run away and leave her fairytale castle?”
Kirsty’s eyes were already getting heavy. Still at that age where the voice of her father was soothing, rather than a rod up her back.
“So the little girl ran up to her bedroom right at the top of the castle and hid under her bed.”
The screen went all shaky for a few seconds.
Carter set off from the intersection, up and over. The darkness of Lake Washington below was lined by distant lights. “And the little girl found a magic wand that—”
“It’s fine, Max. That worked.” Dark and whispering, Bill was on-screen now, out in the hallway outside Kirsty’s room. “Do I get a prize for guessing who the ogre is?”
“Okay, good night. Got a—”
“Son, I tried to speak to you about something at dinner, but… Well. You had to leave.”
Carter felt the ache of an impending demand. Pressure and cajoling and using Kirsty as leverage.
“My payment plan’s in the red, Max. I need to clear a bill, but my situation’s not exactly liquid. Wondered if you could spot me?”
“Thought you were on my insurance?”
“Well, there was a problem. I don’t understand the technicalities. Never was a details man, but they’re threatening to stop my treatment.”
Carter pulled out to pass a bus, hitting the gas harder than he should. “I’ll speak to HR when I get a minute.”
“Son, I’m supposed to be back in the clinic tomorrow afternoon. I don’t want to turn up and they won’t treat me. It’s as bad an ordeal driving to the hospital as it is getting the treatment. Any chance you can do it tonight?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Carter checked both side streets and ran the red light. “There’s a kidnapped baby; sure you can understand when I say that’s my highest priority?”
“Sure.”
“Stop calling me.” Carter killed the call and hurtled down the road, pissed off that Bill was using Kirsty to get at him.
And pissed off that it had worked so well.
* * *
21:15
Carter stepped inside the mobile command center. Same as every other time, he had to scan the faceless agents, searching for the ones that worked directly for him, the ones he trusted, who could help him.
Tyler was working at a laptop pretty much as far away from the door as he could get.
Carter sat next to him. “Peterson, you got anything on that car?”
“Sir, I’m kinda busy with…” Tyler trailed off, his fingers hammering the laptop’s keys. “Okay, done.” He stopped typing and looked around at Carter. “Like you said, I got a hit on the car plates from the front door Ring.” He showed Carter his laptop screen, but it was a grayscale smudge. “Spotted a car sitting there around the time of disappearance, then driving off. A Chevy Volt with Washington plates.”
“This is good, Peterson. Can you get me an address?”
“Sir.”
Elisha appeared in the doorway, waving something in an evidence bag. “Max.”
Carter walked over to Elisha. And stopped dead.
David Karevoll stood just outside, looking tired and at least a hundred pounds lighter than the last time Carter had seen him. And it wasn’t a good look on him. His dark suit—usually immaculate—was scuffed and stained. His white shirt was open to the second button, silvery chest hair bursting out like a frayed power cord. “Long time, no see.” His gaze swept the room. “Lori not here?”
“No, David, and you shouldn’t be either.” Carter backed him and Elisha out onto the street. Quieter now, but still a large police presence. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kick your ass and throw you in lock-up?”
“David found a matchbook from a hotel bar on the street.”
Typical Karevoll play. Turn up, plant evidence, get himself deep into a case. “You found a matchbook?” Carter stared at him. “Really?”
“It’s for this new Russian place on East Madison.” Karevoll did up his suit jacket button. “Place called Pravda. Used to be the Russian Consul General’s residence, but it shut in 2018.”
Elisha raised her eyebrows like it should mean something. “Owned by a shell company in the Caymans. Want me to check into it?”
Carter could’ve driven a truck through the evidence. A shady PI finding a matchbook near an abduction site. But this wasn’t a murder looking for a clean prosecution, at least not yet. It was an abduction, and rules were there to be bent at the slightest lead. Nobody wanted to be the guy who passed on evidence that led to the finding of the child. Or that prevented successful recover. No matter how closely David Karevoll wanted to involve himself. “Do it.”
“Sure.” Elisha passed Carter and headed inside.
Karevoll tried to peer inside the command center, like he was itching to get back to his FBI days.
“You’re reduced to planting matchbooks now, David?” Carter almost laughed. “Really?”
“You think this is bullshit.” Karevoll laughed. He was chomping on a toothpick. “Some stupid asshole picks one up, sparks his smoke, then tosses the whole book. Leads some gumshoe detective in the stupid novel to who killed the damsel. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?”
“You’re a gumshoe detective, sure enough. Long time since you’ve been an FBI agent. Since you had your badge and gun taken off you.”
“Smart-ass.” Karevoll pointed down the street to the cone of light. “Found it right there, under that streetlight. Sitting. Waiting for me.”
Exactly where Chase Bartlett had said Marcus Edwards had been. Right where Tyler had just shown him on the surveillance footage. Meaning a possible link.
> But no. It couldn’t be that simple.
“What are you actually doing here, David?”
Karevoll used his tongue to swap the toothpick around in his mouth. “Your friend Elisha called me, asked me about Rosita Villalobos. Usually it’d be against my code of ethics to divulge information of a client nature.” He sniffed. “But, seeing as how it’ll benefit Lando if you find his kid, he’s cleared me.”
“Lando?”
“We go back a ways.”
“So do we, but we don’t have cute nicknames for each other.”
“I just haven’t told you yours, bud.”
“Spit it out. And I don’t mean your toothpick.”
Karevoll sneered. “If you don’t want my help…”
“Sorry, been a long day.” Carter held up a hand. “What is it?”
“Well, turns out young Rosita has a cousin doing time down in San Quentin. People trafficking. Helping fellow Mexicans across the border.”
“Thought she was Colombian?”
“She is. Cousin, though, he’s half-Colombian, half-Mexican.”
Carter nodded slowly. “You tell Landon about it?”
“Lando asked me to check out how close they were. So we spoke to a few family members. No contact since she was fourteen, far as we could tell. He was twenty at the time.”
“And now?”
“Well, I’m just saying. Guy like that, inside? He’s going to speak to people. He hears his little cousin’s nannying for a rich dude in Seattle? Must be worth something to someone.”
“Look, thanks. I’ll think it through.” Carter clapped Karevoll on the arm. “See you around.”
“Don’t mention it. And say hi to Lori for me.”
“Will do.” Carter watched him slip back to his Lexus, that slight limp in his walk, then climbed the steps back up to the mobile command center. Elisha was over in the corner, next to Tyler, so he crouched between them. “Tell me this is a nothing burger.”