Taken

by Dee Henderson

  He waited in the chair provided while she slipped back into the dressing room and returned in her street clothes. “I’ve decided I’d like to tell Bryce about Marie before the wedding,” she said, the blue dress hanging over her arm. “I think it’s time he knows.”

  Her comment surprised him. They had discussed Marie a few times, but they’d made no decisions. “There’s no urgency, Ellie, but yes, it would be good if he had the details. You’re comfortable with him knowing?”

  “Charlotte knows. Bryce needs to know too. If there’s a concern after the wedding, you’re going to need a friend. I’d prefer to be the one to tell Bryce rather than leave it for you in what could be difficult circumstances. But I was wondering if you would talk with him first, sort of prepare the way?”

  “I’ll do that for you—and be with you when you tell him, if you like.”

  “I was thinking maybe a conversation at the gallery would be appropriate.”

  John held out his hand, and she slid hers into it. “He’s going to be fine with what you tell him,” he reassured her, standing. “It’s going to be interesting to see what question he asks first, if he even asks one. I suspect he’s simply going to offer one of those all-encompassing okays of his and give you a hug.”

  John’s phone interrupted them with the emergency tone. They both tensed. His primary security clients were Charlotte and Bryce Bishop, and no one was closer to Ellie than Charlotte. The caller ID was blocked. “John Key.”

  “Sorry! Sorry, it’s not an emergency. I’m just . . . sorry, John.”

  “Relax, Ann.” He gave Ellie a reassuring smile. “It’s no problem. You’ve still got this number in your speed dial.”

  “Which I realized after I hit the call button. Though I guess this is sort of an emergency in order to pass on a message. I just told Charlotte and Bryce about Shannon Bliss. Ellie needs to be in the loop on this for Charlotte’s sake.”

  “Ah. Yeah. I figured that was coming. Can I deliver the news? It’s been awkward sitting on it for the last few hours.”

  “Please. I’ll send you the link to the newspaper article.”

  “I’ve still got it on my phone. How did Charlotte react?”

  “She got very quiet, but she’s open to the idea of meeting Shannon. Ellie should give her a call, do a better debrief than I could.”

  “I’ll make sure that happens.”

  “Any problem on finding a secure place for Matthew and Shannon to stay?”

  John pulled out his wallet to retrieve a credit card, offered it to Ellie, nodded toward a clerk waiting nearby—taking advantage of the fact he faced less argument over who was buying this addition to her honeymoon wardrobe when he was on the phone. “None. It’s been arranged. Our favorite diplomat is in Eastern Europe trying to put volatile tempers back on simmer; he said he’ll be out of the country another six weeks and we’re welcome to use his place. The unit across the hall is being renovated, and I’m taking that as well. I’ve got a couple of guys a phone call away if it’s necessary to add security when they are out of the place. We’re set. They’ll be secure while they’re in Chicago.”

  “I’m guessing they’ll arrive Monday, midafternoon.”

  “I’ll make sure food is laid in for them. Have you heard anything else?” he asked, watching Ellie as she stood at checkout with the dress.

  “Shannon was passing photos and locations of abducted kids to an FBI guy in Virginia—eighteen kids over the last six years.”

  He felt pleasant surprise at the news. “Good for her.”

  “She’s a survivor. Another item she mentioned: when this started and her kidnapping went bad, they put out to sea, tossed her in the ocean, and waited for her to drown.”

  John felt a stillness slow his heart rate, the trained response to wanting to take on an opponent. His hand clenched around the phone. “We’re going to make the next few weeks calm and peaceful for her, or we don’t know how to do our jobs. And we’re going to put people in cuffs.”

  “Paul’s sentiment too. What’s on your schedule?”

  “Nothing I can’t delegate,” John assured Ann.

  “I’m going to put something together so she can meet you and Ellie, Charlotte and Bryce, a few others. She needs safe names and faces outside of her family in Chicago, people she can trust.”

  “Just let me know when and where. Ann, is her brother, this Jeffery Bliss, is he a good guy?”

  “I’m hoping he is.”

  “Same here. Call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks, John.”

  He ended the call.

  “What’s going on?” Ellie asked, returning with a garment bag holding the dress.

  He scrolled back to the article link, brought it up, and handed her the phone. “Shannon Bliss is coming home.”

  Paul Falcon heard the elevator security faintly chime as a key was used to stop it on the fourth floor. They were owners of the entire floor, and the elevator opened into the entryway of their home, where the first sight to greet their guests was a large sculpture of a horse and rider beloved by his grandfather. Paul tugged a clean shirt off a hanger as the dog lying at the foot of the bed startled upright to race away and greet Ann. Paul smiled as he finished changing his shirt. It felt good to be home.

  He heard the rumble of a low growl come from the living room as Black found his favorite toy, then the unmistakable sound of the dog’s feet skidding on the polished floor of the entryway. “Yes, I’m delighted to see you too, Black,” his wife crooned to her dog. “And I’m glad to see poor bear is still in one piece.”

  Paul listened to the familiar interactions, relaxed just hearing them. There had been years in this home where the only sound had been the music he put on to break the silence. Having a wife and her dog around suited him just fine. His phone buzzed. He paused, picked it up, scrolled through the text message. Shannon Bliss and her situation was only one of four hot items on his plate right now. He’d moved on the most urgent items during a few hours at the office, then packed up a briefcase of work to bring home with him. He sent a reply. He had good people working the problems, and nothing was in particular crisis. This could wait an hour. He went to find his wife.

  He found Ann in the kitchen, looking in the refrigerator. She’d fed the dog. Black had his paws on either side of his bowl, holding it in place while he practically inhaled the contents. Paul paused to ruffle the dog’s ears, then joined his wife.

  “Need some help?” He slid his arm around her waist, leaned over to offer a lingering kiss. “Glad you’re home.”

  “I never want to leave it again.”

  He smiled, understanding the sentiment. “What have you decided?”

  “Hamburgers.”

  She handed him a new jar of dill pickle slices to open. He did so and set it on the counter. “I’ll handle dinner. Sit. Keep me company.” He turned her toward a stool. Ann gave it her best effort, but she wasn’t much of a cook, and he rather enjoyed fixing meals for them.

  She took a tapioca cup with her and sat on the stool while he pulled out hamburger and cheese, found wax paper to help make the burgers ultrathin. He got the meat sizzling in a large hot skillet, put on the lid to cut down spatter, found the last of the German potato salad his sister had sent home with them from her restaurant. It was better warm, so he put the bowl in the microwave, turned the hamburgers and adjusted the heat to low, took the potatoes out of the microwave, then slid onto a stool next to his wife, carefully sampled the potatoes. Not so hot they would burn the tongue. He held out the fork with a bite to share with his wife. “How did Charlotte take the request?”

  Ann borrowed the fork to take another bite of the potatoes, gave it back. “She’s open to meeting Shannon. Bryce has some reservations, but he offered to host the casual get-together. Unsaid is that he knows Charlotte will find it easier if it’s a first meeting on her own turf. It would be good if you scheduled a run with him, sound out what he didn’t tell me.”

  “Already on my shor
t list for the next few days,” Paul agreed.

  “Did you hear anything more from Matthew?”

  He summarized the latest call.

  “Shannon made a good choice approaching him,” Ann said.

  “She did.”

  Paul liked this guy Ann had once dated years before she had met him, liked how he briefed details on the phone, liked how he handled a very important victim without appearing to be managing her. The information she was sharing wouldn’t be coming if Matthew hadn’t established that elusive, subtle line of trust with Shannon. “I think she wanted to talk and knew she could only handle telling the story one-on-one, so she deliberately selected who it would be. A smart move on her part, and one that helps us. She’s not shutting down like many victims in her place would do. She’s simply being deliberate. A week, I think, and this will be a case with some rapid, unfolding movement. It’s going to feel good to make arrests on Shannon’s behalf. Theo echoes that sentiment. We’ve put together space to work this on the director’s floor to keep it quiet for now.”

  “Good. Theo needs a case like this, something that turns out positive. He spends a lot of time on situations that end up with only recovered remains.”

  “I know.” Paul slid off the stool to check the hamburgers, found them almost done. He split the buns and put them on top of the hamburgers in the pan to warm, took another close look at his wife as he worked. She looked content. Relieved to be home. She also looked drained. She’d enjoyed herself at the conference, but was paying a price. Even before Matthew had tapped her shoulder with Shannon’s situation, the trip had been taking a toll. “How are you feeling, Ann?”

  She hesitated before she answered. “I’m just tired.”

  He set down the towel, stopped beside her, put his hands on either side of her face and tipped it up to study. She’d hide it all with most people, but she was learning not to do so with him. “I think exhausted is the word you’re looking for,” he said gently. “Bad enough the nausea is setting in, given what you chose to eat first.”

  “Too many people. Too much noise.”

  Three days at a conference, travel on either side of it, was her physical limit now. She was an introvert, and time with a lot of people drained her. She’d had more reserves when she was single, when most of her time was spent alone. Marriage had changed what she could manage now. Moved things in closer. Solitude was a precious commodity when part of a couple, and she wasn’t getting enough of it. He had known before he married her that solitude would be nearly as critical to her well-being as sleep, and the two years since the wedding had only reinforced that.

  He rested his hands on her shoulders to rub his thumbs against her collarbone. “I think you should disappear and go paint for the next week,” he suggested. She had a studio attached to their apartment with its own private bedroom suite—his wedding gift to her, a place to hibernate and get a big dose of time alone.

  “I’ll be fine—”

  She started to tell him it wasn’t so bad, and he shook his head, stopping her words. The timing for it wasn’t ideal with Shannon arriving in town, with Matthew needing help, but it was necessary. “That was our deal, Ann. I want my wife, not a shell of who you are. You can’t be what you need—what I need—when you’re exhausted. You can disappoint other people for the next week to please me. We’ll host Shannon’s meeting with her brother here. You can come to the cookout when that gets arranged. Talk with Matthew when he calls. Otherwise, silence the phone, get some solitude and some rest. Do some painting. I’ll step in and handle matters regarding Shannon.” He tipped up her chin to kiss her. “If I’d been thinking, I would have gone to see Charlotte and Bryce today on your behalf.”

  “I needed to do it. She’s my friend, and it was a lot to ask.”

  “Charlotte’s been a good friend to you and you to her,” Paul agreed. “You’re brutally tired, Ann. You can’t ignore that, wish it away.”

  She conceded the point. “I’ll go paint—five days, starting tomorrow after we get back from church. What about Black?”

  He smiled. “Black and I could use some guy time to reconnect. No one fussing when I share my breakfast with him or wondering why we pause on a walk to watch a nice poodle stroll by.”

  She laughed, rested her hands on his arms. “Thank you. More than you can know—most guys wouldn’t get me, but you do. It’s no wonder I love you. But could I make one change to that plan?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Let me go talk to Theo, look at the case board, and pose some questions. I’ve spent since Friday night pushing case-file information into my brain, and I can be useful to him for a few hours. You know I can.”

  He leaned in to softly kiss her again. “I’m not questioning your usefulness, only the timing. Spend Monday afternoon with him. Sort out whether things are going the right direction. Then leave it to Theo and me for a few days, all right?”

  “All right.”

  “Good,” Paul replied with a nod of his head. “Now, what do you want on your cheeseburger? The works?”

  “No onions.”

  He smiled. “For either of us,” he decided. He finished the meal prep and set their plates on the counter where they often ate.

  He knew others wondered at the way he guarded his life with Ann, the privacy they maintained, the quiet schedule they kept most of the year. He knew something they did not. In her element, Ann was one of the best thinkers he had ever met, able to make intuitive leaps and see connections that even seasoned investigators missed. She’d been an excellent homicide cop, she was a good writer, and had a relationship with God he envied. Those facets of who she was had developed because of the time she’d been able to spend thinking. He’d married her wanting to share that life, not push her into being a different person after adding the title wife. It mattered to him that he cared for her well, that the woman he’d met and fallen in love with would still be found in his wife. The trade-off of some solitude for her was a rich marriage for himself—he knew how to protect what mattered.

  The cheeseburgers tasted delicious. Still, Ann passed over half of hers and got herself another tapioca.

  “Did you ever meet Adam York?” he asked her, curious.

  “The one who’s been catching those missing-kid packages from Shannon?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been trying to place where I’ve heard his name. I don’t think I’ve met him, but a case out of Ohio crossed with one of his, I think. The cop thought the FBI was being pushy, so I tucked away the name.”

  “Ideally, Shannon has only one contact with the FBI other than me, and it doesn’t sound like York is the right agent. I’d go with Rita as my first choice, but she’s involved elsewhere. While Sam would be able to set the right tone, I think we need a woman.”

  “Shannon’s better off if it’s Matthew Dane and only one cop,” Ann suggested. “I’d choose Theodore Lincoln for the conversations. He knows her case, he has history with her family, he’s thorough and careful and the right mix of patient cop and calm detective—he’ll work the case and stay out of the press limelight until his boss sends him to a podium. I predict Shannon is going to meet Theo and be very comfortable with him. Let the FBI sit back in the information flow. You want Shannon to give you details, you need to keep her initial world small—under five people if possible. Matthew Dane, Theodore Lincoln, a good woman doctor, her brother, and maybe Charlotte. Make that the inner circle she deals with for the next several weeks.”

  Paul thought Ann’s read of the situation was solid, and he had no problem with the FBI drafting behind Theo for the details. “I’ll keep the case on my desk for now, haul in Dave and Sam as the next additions. They get along well with Theo. Once we get the information suggesting the geography this case is going to cover, I’ll reassess who we need.”

  The dog was pushing his bowl around the kitchen in a not-so-subtle reference to the fact it was empty. Paul got up to take plates over to the dishwasher. “Would a walk he
lp, Black?”

  The dog’s head came up, and he abandoned the bowl to dart into the entryway. His leash was draped over the saddle of the sculpture, and they heard it hit the floor. Black trotted back into the kitchen, trailing the leash behind him. Ann was laughing as she leaned down for it. “Thank you, Black. One long walk coming up.” She glanced over at Paul. “We need to send him up to the ranch with Quinn for a couple of weeks so he can stretch his legs and chase things, burn off some energy.”

  “You know he slept the entire time we were gone,” Paul pointed out, as Black fidgeted impatiently while Ann clipped his leash on. “I’ll take him.” Paul took the leash, and the three of them headed out. Black didn’t love the elevator, but he’d learned to tolerate it. The animal was the first one on. Paul was glad the dog had transitioned to the concrete of living in downtown Chicago as well as he had. Ann and her dog had walked a lot of miles together before he’d met her, and Paul was beginning to appreciate the joy this animal brought to their lives. Black never failed to entertain. “Two miles tonight?” he asked as the elevator opened. And with Ann’s agreement, he turned them south so they’d pass by one decent-sized park during the walk.

  6

  Matthew Dane?” The man had his hand already extended. “Adam York. Pleased to meet you.”

  Matthew rose from the corner table in the Blue Rose restaurant to shake the agent’s hand. He could already tell they were heading toward a collision if he didn’t let York take the lead in this conversation. But given it would be to his advantage to have Adam do most of the talking, Matthew smiled and planned to give the man as much space as he wanted. “Please, have a seat,” Matthew said, gesturing to the chair across from his. “I figured this might be a long conversation, so I’ve already ordered appetizers to keep our waitress happy. We’ll be monopolizing a table in her section.”

  Adam York drew out the chair. “The meal on the plane comprised a found bag of stale pretzels, so I’m already in your debt.” The waitress came over, and Adam requested both water and a soft drink. The man didn’t deliberately scan the restaurant, but Matthew could see his curiosity as he glanced around. “Is she here?”