The Boy

by Linsey Lanier

  Around that time Parker had been dealing with the death of his mother, his rocky relationship with his father, and his first love, Laura.

  “I recall some of the gossip.”

  “Gossip?”

  “Susannah and Perry had a volatile relationship. They fought openly in the halls, broke up with one another, got back together.”

  “Kind of like us?”

  Parker scowled. “Nothing at all like us. They were teenagers.”

  “Okay. Sorry. What happened to them?”

  “After the holidays I heard someone say they were no longer a couple. Apparently Emmett came home from college and broke it up.”

  Just like the representative told her tonight.

  “Then what?”

  “The halls returned to normal. After graduation that year I heard Suzanna and Brent had gotten married. I was surprised she had married Perry’s best friend, but the rumor was she was pregnant.”

  “With Eustace?”

  Parker squinted as he stared out the window into the night sky. “That timing would be right, yes.”

  Miranda drummed her fingers on the table a moment.

  “What are you thinking?”

  She picked up the card DeBow had given her. “Eustace invited us to his place for a tea tomorrow afternoon.”

  Parker raised a dark brow. “A tea?”

  “That’s what he called it. He went to boarding school in England.” She handed him the card. “Here’s his address.”

  He ran a thumb over the embossed lettering as he studied it. “Dalton. The town is known for carpet manufacturing. It’s over eighty miles away.”

  “So he said. Sounds like a nice secluded spot where no one would hear a young boy’s cries.”

  Parker turned to her in surprise. “You think Eustace DeBow is our kidnapper?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know, but he wants to show us the model train collection he inherited from his father.”

  Now both Parker’s brows rose. “Model train collection?”

  “He said it was extensive.”

  Slowly Parker nodded. More memories were surfacing. “Brent was part owner of one of the railroads.”

  “Eustace mentioned that. The NSX.”

  “Yes.” Parker grew quiet as he mulled over what they’d learned. “I can’t imagine Eustace DeBow being involved with a criminal organization from the Ukraine.”

  Yeah, that was a stretch. “I just had a funny feeling about him, Parker.”

  “He did single you out for a dance.”

  She recalled the flash of recognition in his eyes when he first saw her. Maybe it was more than just seeing her on the news. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d been stalked.

  Parker rubbed his chin. “Why invite detectives to your home if you’re hiding a kidnapped boy there?”

  “Good question.”

  She had been pushing herself too hard. She was tired. DeBow was innocent.

  The kidnapping ring was aware the FBI was after them. The Ukrainian man had killed one of their agents and Clarissa, a.k.a. June May, must have told them everything she knew about The Custodians. But the kidnapper didn’t know about her and Parker.

  Still that strange sensation of shivers—the one she often had on cases—came back to her as she remembered dancing with DeBow tonight and the touch of his icy fingers on her skin.

  She’d like the help of her team, but she needed more proof before she got them involved. Otherwise it would be as embarrassing as chasing Erica King around the top of the perimeter.

  “If I could just find something on Eustace.” To clear him, she hoped. She pecked away at the keyboard.

  Parker pointed to a spot on the screen. “Try this link.”

  She did. And her jaw dropped.

  It was a medical record on Eustace DeBow. A psychiatric record.

  It was only a heading really. Even with the access the Parker Agency systems had, she couldn’t get to confidential medical information. But the text that was displayed indicated Eustace’s parents had tried to admit him to a youth care facility for troubled children when he was fourteen.

  “Eustace told me he’d gone to boarding school.”

  Parker pressed his fingers to his forehead, as if trying to will out the information. He shook his head. “I didn’t follow Brent after school. I saw him and Susannah only very occasionally.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed.

  It didn’t seem right. Eustace DeBow was a lonely young man who had lost his family. He was the victim of a tragic accident. So what if he’d been troubled as a teen? A lot of kids were and they turned out all right.

  She clicked on another link.

  This one opened to an article on the brother, complete with photos. Nathan DeBow at age eight, several years before the train wreck.

  She scanned the article and started. “He was autistic.”

  Was that why Eustace had come to the fundraiser? He had given a donation. Or said he was going to. Surely she’d read him wrong. The model trains, his father’s ownership of a railroad, it was all a coincidence. Right?

  But as she eyed the picture of the young boy, his hair, his grin, his eyes, a strange feeling came over her.

  She dug her phone out of her bag and scrolled to the picture Rebecca had sent her. She stared down at it. The straight blond hair cut over the forehead. The rosy pink cheeks. The wistful look in the innocent blue eyes.

  “Look, Parker.”

  “What is it?”

  She held up the phone so he could see the picture. “Nathan DeBow looked a lot like Dylan.”

  “He did indeed.”

  She glanced back and forth at the two pictures, then clicked on the photo of the train wreck again. She scanned the article one more time.

  The semi the train had hit had been abandoned. Police couldn’t find the driver anywhere. Eustace had been out of the country at the time. That was convenient.

  A hard knot began to form in her stomach.

  “Parker, do you think…?” No, it couldn’t be.

  “What are you saying, Miranda?”

  She pointed at the photo of the wreckage. “Do you think somebody could hire someone to leave a truck like that on the tracks?”

  “You mean sabotage?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Deliberately cause the train wreck.”

  “With enough money and connections, anything’s possible.”

  Anything at all if there was enough resentment. A younger brother with autism? He probably got a lot of attention. Maybe Eustace was jealous.

  Did Eustace DeBow hate his family? His brother? Enough to kill them? Sibling rivalry could turn homicidal. But Eustace DeBow kidnapping little boys and turning them into sex slaves—because they reminded him of his brother? No, that was crazy. And a huge leap.

  A very cruel one.

  Okay, she had to be objective. All she needed was something so she could check Eustace off the suspect list. A social call would be enough to do that. As soon as she cleared the young man they could dig into Representative Emmett. They’d make their visit short.

  “We need to honor that invitation to tea tomorrow,” she said.

  Beside her she could feel the mix of resolve and anger well up in Parker. Did he think she was onto something?

  When he answered, his voice was dark and low. “Not without back up.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “Are you telling us you got sworn in to the FBI?”

  Miranda peered down Holloway’s cynical nose and resisted the urge to smack him.

  She was in the back room of the lab with her team with the door closed. It was ten a.m. the next morning and she’d been talking for an hour, mostly about Eustace DeBow and showing them what she’d found last night on a projector screen.

  She and Parker had brought the treats this time. An assortment of bagels and cream cheese lay spread out on the counter. Everyone munched as they listened to her explain what they’d uncovered since yesterday afternoon.


  Dressed in his typical brown suit and blue tie, his lanky form slumping lazily in a chair, Holloway sat before her looking like the troublemaker in a high school classroom.

  “Yes, Detective Holloway,” she said in her most professional voice. “Agent Sloan inducted Mr. Parker and myself into a branch of the FBI called The Custodians.”

  Sloan probably wouldn’t approve of her revealing that to her team, but he worked on a need-to-know basis, and with what she was about to ask them to do, they needed to know.

  Holloway’s brow twisted with disbelief. “How do you know this is real? It sounds pretty farfetched to me.”

  He was determined to be a thorn in her flesh this morning.

  To keep herself from hauling off and punching him, she folded her arms. “Sloan had information on Anatoly Tamarkin.”

  “The Ukrainian we found?” Becker asked with a mouthful of bagel.

  “Yep. He showed us a photo of a man who looks a lot like the one you dug up. Or what he would look like now. He’s shaved his head and has a large tattoo over it, but the skin type’s the same. He murdered one of Sloan’s agents.”

  She wished Sloan had given her that picture before they left.

  Wesson put her paper plate down on the counter. “And these people, this Group 141, the snatcher and the groomer, are operating a kidnapping ring?”

  “Yes. They’ve taken a bunch of kids already. Sloan’s group has been trying to get something on them for four years. This is as close as they’ve gotten.”

  “Now that a senator’s son has been taken,” Holloway added.

  “Yes.”

  It did seem like Sloan was playing favorites, but with two of his people killed, one of them being his sister-in-law, Miranda was willing to cut him some slack.

  Wesson looked a little ill. “They take these kids and sell them overseas?”

  “That’s right.” It was hard to take in.

  Suddenly Becker shot to his feet. “We’ve got to stop them, Steele. What are we sitting around here for?”

  Miranda held up a hand. “Calm down, Becker.”

  He sat back down and looked up at her yearning for guidance. This case really was pushing his buttons. He was too good of a father himself not to take it personally.

  Wesson leaned forward in her chair. “So we’re coming along with you and Mr. Parker to Dalton this afternoon, right?” She looked as eager as Becker to get these guys.

  Miranda nodded. “In the role of backup. If it’s needed.” Implying they would stay outside and hidden.

  Wesson nodded.

  “Our focus is finding Dylan Ward Hughes. Our hope is to put an end to this ring when we do. I’ve told you about our appointment with Eustace DeBow this afternoon. Our goal is to determine whether he’s the kidnapper. All we have so far is speculation. Any ideas on how to do that?”

  The team sat staring at the floor for a long while.

  “While you’re inside we can try to find where the boy might be hidden,” Wesson suggested.

  Miranda shook her head. It was a good idea but too risky. “DeBow said there would be a few guests. It’ll be better if you all stay out of sight.”

  She wasn’t sure the boy was there. She wasn’t sure of any of this. It was just a hunch. She could be all wrong about DeBow.

  Becker raised a finger. “We can listen to your conversation with Mr. DeBow. You and Mr. Parker can wear wires.”

  She’d done that the last time they’d worked together. “How are you going to monitor them without being seen?”

  Becker thought a moment. “There’s the Agency van. It’s white. Looks just like a repair truck. Nobody would question a service van parked along the curb in a residential neighborhood.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “It’ll take a couple hours to set up the equipment.”

  “Then we’d better get started. Holloway, do you have anything to add?”

  He’d been sulking in the corner the whole time.

  He got to his feet with a grimace. “All I have to say is if you’re wrong, Steele, and this DeBow guy sues us, it’s going to be all on you.”

  Miranda glared at him, jaw tight, wanting to dress him down in front of everybody. Why was he being such a jerk? Then she remembered the conversation she’d overheard yesterday. Okay, she knew why.

  “Let’s take a break,” she snapped. “We’ll meet back here in ten and work out the details.”

  Barely managing to hold down her temper, she left the room.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Miranda had just swung around the water cooler when Wesson caught up to her.

  “Steele, slow down.”

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not. I’m sorry. I just—”

  “C’mon. Let’s go in here.” Wesson took her arm, led her into an empty meeting room, and shut the door.

  Miranda took the opportunity to pace around the conference table to cool off. “I just don’t understand what’s up with Holloway.”

  “That’s what I want to tell you.”

  Exasperated she stomped to the window waving her arms in the air. “Did you know he’s dating Gen?”

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  “Gen of all people. She’s poisoned him against me. I know she has.”

  And she couldn’t even talk to Parker about it. She didn’t want to bring anything between him and his daughter. Not after what Gen had been through.

  Come to think of it, what was she doing confiding in Wesson? They’d never been close.

  She turned and eyed the copper-haired woman dressed in a bright blue skirt and yellow blouse with her matching two-tone high heels. She looked more like a beauty queen than a detective. But she was a good one.

  And anyway, she’d already said too much. Might as well get it all out.

  She put a hand to her forehead. “I thought with after what happened in Jasper County, Gen would soften up toward me.

  “It’s not Gen.”

  Miranda headed for the end of the table again. “But now it’s like she’s using Holloway to attack me.”

  “It’s not Gen,” Wesson repeated.

  She stopped pacing. “How do you know?”

  “It’s his ex-wife.”

  “What?” Miranda barely remembered Holloway had an ex-wife. He hadn’t mentioned her since they were IITs.

  “Curt told me about her in Brazil. That’s one of the reasons it didn’t work out between us.”

  Miranda pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Okay. Start from the beginning. What the heck are you talking about, Wesson?”

  She sat down across from her. “Curt was in the marines before he came here.”

  “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “He was married then. While he was on duty, his wife cheated on him every time he was away.”

  “Holy moly.”

  “Yeah. She was also the ‘bossy type’ as Curt calls her. Always ordering him around, telling him what he could and couldn’t do. You know. Bitchy. For a while, he put up with it. He wanted to please her, try to make her happy, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she said slowly. Actually she did know from the female perspective.

  “But finally, he snapped one night and started yelling at her. She yelled back. The neighbors called the police. He got in trouble with his CO.”

  “What happen?”

  “Nothing as far as the Marines went. But his wife left him. Said she was going to Hollywood to become a movie star or a rock star, whichever came first.”

  Jeez.

  “He’s had a chip on his shoulder ever since. So he’s sensitive about…you know. Working for a woman?”

  Now it made sense. “Doesn’t want a girl telling him what to do, huh?”

  “That about sums it up.”

  She’d worked with a bunch of guys like that on construction sites. But she’d never been put in charge of any of them.

  “I just wanted to let
you know before things got out of hand. I don’t want anything to botch this operation.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” She really did appreciate Wesson’s professionalism.

  Wesson got to her feet. “I’d better get back to the lab before Curt suspects I’ve fraternized with the enemy.”

  “Right. Thanks, Wesson,” she said again.

  “No problem.”

  As Wesson left the room Miranda put her head in her hands.

  This boss thing wasn’t working out at all. She needed her team behind her one hundred percent before they went to DeBow’s house. What if Holloway was right? What if she was accusing an innocent man of something horrible?

  She got up and strolled to the break room, got herself a cup of coffee. She needed a few more minutes to pull herself together before she faced the team again so she headed for her cube.

  On the other hand what if the funny feeling she had about DeBow was right?

  This assignment could get dangerous. How could she lead a team into it with one of them sniping at her all the time? Questioning her decisions? Undermining her authority? It could get somebody killed. She needed a serious one-on-one with Holloway before they left.

  She went through the hall and around the corner to her cube.

  It was empty. What the heck?

  No phone. No computer screen. Not even a chair. Instead it was filled with file boxes. Okay, she had quit the Agency but she was back now. What was going on?

  She did an about face and marched straight to Parker’s office.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “What the hell, Parker?”

  From behind his desk Parker held up a hand. “Let me put you on hold a moment.” He pressed a button and raised a brow in her direction.

  “Where’s my office?” she hissed at him.

  “I moved it.”

  “What?”

  “You’re in management now. You can’t be in a cube. I put you next to me.”

  She turned around and peeked out his door and into the office that sat along the wall ninety degrees to his. Sure enough she could see her stuff in there.

  She spun back. “You didn’t even tell me. I don’t think this team lead thing is going to work, Parker.”