Taken

by Dee Henderson

  Matthew shared a long look with Paul. She’d had a role in triggering that internal family explosion, killing the five smuggling children. Matthew could almost feel the painful edges of that conversation in the future, the dynamics that would have been in play. He hoped she handed him her diary from that time period so he wouldn’t have to ask her to elaborate on the statement.

  Shannon was listing names along with a city and state, occasionally referring to her notes. “The family didn’t steal items. They would buy from a fence or from a broker who had a deal fall apart, put the item in storage, then sell it at a later date to private collectors, brokers, pawn dealers. They would never sell the item in the area it was acquired. Something gotten in the North would be sold in the South and vice versa.”

  “What kind of records did they keep on the stolen items?” Paul asked.

  “Good ones. They would store items for a long period of time. Five years was the norm from when they acquired it to when it was sold. But you’re going to have a problem, because as soon as they know you’re coming for them, anything they can reach is going to disappear. They don’t need access to bank accounts to flee; they just need time. They’ve got a fortune hidden in places around the nation.” She drew a line and began listing private collectors who had bought items from the group.

  “There are two ledgers for each year, one for the East and one for the West. They record the location and date they received the item, the purchase price, the place they stored it, a photo reference number of the item, eventually listing the buyer and the sale price. In recent years they started adding GPS locations. Every three months they would photocopy the ledger pages and store that copy somewhere as insurance against the original being lost or seized. They dispersed the photos of items into collections for a region, would store them for safety just as they did the stolen items. I was able to get to one of the photo collections for the Midwest.”

  She lifted out of the canvas bag a sunglasses case, opened it to show several flash drives. “This is one of the newer collections. The photos are between two and six years old, so most of these articles should still be in storage around the Midwest. Unfortunately I haven’t been able to get to any of the ledger copies from those years to tell me where these photographed items are stored, but I think I know where a couple of the ledger copies can be found. What I did manage to get ahold of is the full East Coast ledger from four years ago.” She tugged it out of her bag and unwrapped the plastic around the book. “It was stored in a box I cleared out in Atlanta. I didn’t know it would be there. They may have been in a hurry to get it stored, or they had used the place recently and put it in the most convenient location.”

  She opened the book and showed Paul a page of entries.

  Paul studied it, thumbed through the ledger. “This is priceless, Shannon, for what can be done with it.”

  “I’m hoping the hideaway sites I can give you will yield more full ledgers or ledger copies so you can have precise lists to work from. I think I have seen probably twenty percent of the locations they used around the country. There are a lot of them that fall into the category of ‘I know there’s one in this town. I remember it’s somewhere around that library building or by the Civil War statue,’ where I’m going to have to visit the location to jog my memory unless a particular ledger shows up. So it’s probably going to be necessary to cut a few deals with people to locate where the ledgers or the ledger copies have been stored.”

  Paul was scanning pages and counting entries. “Having one in hand to know what we’re looking for is already a big step forward. We’ll figure out a way to locate them.” He looked up at her. “They’ve been dealing with a lot of merchandise.” He must have noted her expression. “What’s your concern?”

  “Is it five years or ten for dealing in stolen goods?”

  Paul closed the ledger and considered her. “Shannon, if I can’t put together the sum total of what has happened in the last eleven years, put all eighteen of those people still alive in jail for the rest of their lives, I shouldn’t be in this job. We need the evidence gathered, and there’s much work to come, but we will get it done. You can ask my wife to confirm it when I tell you I’m good at my job. Just sayin’.”

  Shannon glanced over at Ann.

  “He hates to brag,” Ann said with a smile. “Trust him, Shannon. Paul won’t let anyone the law can reach get free. It won’t be a slap-on-the-wrist sentence.”

  Shannon turned back at Paul. “Can you do it without me having to tell my story in court?”

  “I’ll do my best to restrict what depends on you.”

  “Then I need to ask, could further questions wait for another day? What’s on the boards now is most of the facts I can give you.”

  “You gave us a lot today, Shannon. When you’re up for it, we’ll take a drive and see that farm. And it would be helpful to have a list of the storage locations you can remember. Let’s make those the next steps whenever you’re ready.”

  She nodded and pushed back her chair. Matthew was already picking up her bag and handing it to her, with a grateful nod to Paul that the day was ending here.

  19

  Matthew glanced over at Shannon. She hadn’t spoken since they drove away from the FBI building. “We’ll stop and get a bite to eat, give you a chance to unwind in an environment that’s not the apartment’s same four walls.”

  “Whatever you think,” she said absently.

  “It went well today, Shannon.”

  “It got done,” she said. “Once it’s known I’m alive, they’ll be looking to find me, to make sure I can’t testify.”

  “John and I will make sure nobody can get near you. Of everything you might worry about, don’t pick that one up.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for being there today. And that swim really helped.”

  “I’m glad. You’ve ‘done good’ today, Shannon. You did the right thing.”

  “It helps to hear that.”

  Matthew found the restaurant he wanted, a place named Cues, parked in the side lot and moved around the car to open Shannon’s door. “This is an Italian restaurant Bryce mentioned. He and Charlotte often come here on Saturday nights to have dinner and play some pool. If they’re here tonight, they won’t be offended if we wave and then do our own thing. But if you want some conversation that’s unrelated to any of this, Charlotte’s probably the safest person I can suggest.”

  “I like them, Matthew. If they are here, let’s at least stop and say hello.”

  Bryce and Charlotte had just arrived themselves. The four ended up sharing two medium pizzas, with the conversation moving easily around upcoming Chicago summer events, the campaign for governor, Charlotte’s career in art, Ellie and John’s impending wedding—absolutely nothing during the meal touching on Shannon’s story or her FBI debriefing that day. But Matthew thought Shannon had to make an effort to stay engaged even while she was enjoying the evening.

  Charlotte had brought along her own custom pool cue, offered to share it, and the ladies moved to a free table to play a game. Matthew joined Bryce at an open dart board. It had been years since he’d played, but as he hefted a dart it felt right in his hand. “Thanks for mentioning this place, Bryce. Shannon needed the break.” He tossed his first dart and was pleased with where it landed.

  “I’m glad it worked out—for you and us.” Bryce tossed a dart, and Matthew realized his chance of offering a good match was going to be mostly luck. Bryce had the dart board zeroed in. Matthew did his best to offer a competitive game, was halfway pleased when Bryce won the game by only several points rather than dozens.

  Matthew was watching the women as Bryce collected the darts. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

  Bryce studied his wife with a narrowed gaze, smiled. “Shoes.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “My wife has a thing for them, and she just spotted what Shannon’s wearing. They’ll be planning a shopping trip soon, I imagine.”

 
“Shoes. Okay. It is the one thing Shannon has expressed an interest in shopping for since we reached Chicago.”

  Bryce laughed. “They’ll be fine, those two. Charlotte’s good at reading people. She’ll nudge the conversation in a direction that’ll be helpful to Shannon.”

  “We’ve had a long day. Shannon spent most of it talking with Paul and his team.”

  “I wondered,” Bryce said. “She has that expression like she’s gone down a dark memory lane and isn’t quite fully back yet.”

  “How does Charlotte handle the dark memories?”

  “She works on her art, though sometimes she decides it would help to talk—mostly with Ellie, I think, but occasionally she’ll bring up something to me. She’s not looking for much feedback, simply to have someone else know the memory and share it with her.”

  “I haven’t figured out how Shannon deals with a day like this. Shopping, going for a swim, talking—whatever it is, she needs more of it right now, and I don’t know what to offer. I’m not sure even she knows that answer. She hasn’t had her freedom long enough to have found a pattern.”

  Bryce squared a dart in his hand, sent it flying to start another match. “Charlotte said the first days after her rescue were like being hit with a tidal wave—the volume of things happening around her, so many people coming and going. Constant change. Nothing ever the same. She longed for things to be the same from one day to the next.”

  Matthew stopped a dart mid-throw. “That’s utterly profound. How did I miss it?” Shannon’s life since Atlanta had been constant change. He could do a lot more to help her find a daily rhythm. “What else did Charlotte say?”

  “She wanted to talk about the process going on, not the things in her past. She wanted to know what to expect in the days and weeks ahead. She needed to know the future in order to get comfortable with it before it arrived.”

  “What was the thing that got her through those weeks?”

  “John hired on as her bodyguard and instinctively provided for both needs: a constant she could depend on, and a heads-up for what was going to happen. He didn’t allow anything to be a surprise.”

  The ladies had ended their game and were walking back to the table. Matthew watched them be seated and saw they were settling into a conversation. He turned his attention back to the game. “Tell me something, Bryce. Did you marry Charlotte knowing her past, or was it a long discovery?”

  “Both.”

  Matthew glanced over. “Any regrets?”

  “None.”

  “Mention that to Shannon sometime, would you? It might help her to know your perspective. For that matter, mention it to my daughter should she ever visit Chicago.”

  Bryce smiled. “My wife is an interesting woman, both despite what happened and because of it. It’s her history. With time it becomes our history. A marriage can work with that.”

  They finished the dart game and walked over to rejoin the ladies. Matthew slid into the booth beside Shannon, picked up the soft drink the waitress had refilled, considered another slice of the pizza.

  Shannon leaned into his shoulder as she reached across for the hot pepper. “I’m going shopping with Charlotte tomorrow.”

  Matthew had to grin. “Okay. Becky tells me that retail therapy is good for the mind, body, and soul.”

  Shannon poked him with her little finger. “There speaks a skeptic. Charlotte also said we could probably slip into the balcony at their church, come and go unnoticed, if we attend the eight a.m. service tomorrow.”

  “It’s a plan. I’ll work out directions with Bryce.”

  Shannon dropped the pepper stem on the edge of her plate. “Is darts an easy game to learn?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Can you read that sign over the door?” Matthew asked, pointing it out.

  “What? Why?”

  “If you can, you don’t need glasses, and I can probably teach you. If you can’t, you need to see an eye doctor first, then we’ll be in business.”

  She looked at the sign and gave an exaggerated squint.

  Charlotte laughed. “Come on, Shannon. I’ll teach you darts. We can play teams against the guys next week. And you two be prepared to lose . . . badly,” she added, looking meaningfully at the men as she shifted her pool cue to Bryce for safekeeping.

  Matthew and Bryce chuckled and got to their feet so the women could slide out of the booth. Matthew watched as they chose a board and began divvying up the darts between them, laughing together. “It looks like we’re going to be joining you again next week. Sorry about that. I realize this is probably your date night with Charlotte.”

  “No problem,” Bryce said. “We’re working on a list—top ten favorite dates. It gives me an excuse to take her out a few times every week. We can afford to share the occasional Saturday night.”

  “Shannon really needed this evening. It’s a good break for her from the hard things of today.”

  “I’m glad we can be of help. How are you doing, Matthew?”

  He grimaced.

  “That bad?”

  “She came to find me. I’m not walking away before this is finished. But she’s dealt with it over eleven years. I’m hearing the story in about eleven days . . . and it’s not an easy thing to absorb.”

  Bryce picked up his glass and tapped Matthew’s. “I know it’s not. But it helps her on her journey back. So you do it without flinching.”

  “I’m doing my best. She’d be able to do it on her own if necessary. There’s nothing fragile about her,” Matthew admitted.

  “She hasn’t shown it yet but, yes, there is. That broken part that will wonder, ‘Am I still worth loving?’” Bryce replied.

  “You married Charlotte.”

  “A good move on both our parts, done for our own reasons,” Bryce said with an easy smile.

  “You’re in love with her.”

  “Of that you can be certain.” Bryce leaned back, studied him. “And yes, before you have to ask, that question was a large part of Charlotte’s struggle with trusting me. Don’t worry so much about the timing of things, what people will think, what makes logical sense when it comes to a woman like Shannon. You’ve got a good friendship forming there.”

  “She’s between the age of my daughter and myself. That pushes me both ways—she’s someone to take care of and someone to care about.”

  Bryce chuckled. “Both nice sentiments. You’re a good friend to her, Matthew. So be that. Shannon’s healing is faster with you than without you. So carry what she’ll let you carry, do your best to fill in the gaps for her. That’s basically my story with Charlotte—a really good friendship that evolved into the trust and depth of a love affair within a very good marriage.”

  Matthew’s eyebrows raised. “Why do I get the feeling you’re asking me something?”

  “Shannon’s simply the . . . interesting woman who’s walked across your path,” Bryce offered with a smile, defining reality for him. “I look at the two of you and I see . . . the possibility of something that is also interesting. Let’s find a pool table. You can take some of the emotion of today out on a game or two.”

  “You’re only trying to tie me up in knots, throw off my concentration for the game,” Matthew said as they stood.

  “Distracting you,” Bryce corrected with a laugh. “Have you thought much about what happened today since you’ve been here?”

  “No,” Matthew conceded.

  “See? I’m good at this.”

  Matthew laughed. “Yeah, you are.” He tilted his head, curious. “Has Charlotte got your number yet?”

  “She had that done long before she finally accepted my marriage proposal.”

  “How long did she make you wait?”

  “After the proposal? Months.”

  Matthew shot a glance over at Charlotte. Interesting. She’d made a good choice and also read Bryce very well, from the look of it.

  Matthew hunkered down beside the restaurant booth, picked up the last breadstick in the basket, e
njoying the garlic and the melted cheese baked in. “Shannon, we’d better head out.” It was coming up on nine o’clock, and he’d lost the last three games of pool to Bryce. And as comfortable as Shannon was right now, sharing a piece of cake with Charlotte, she needed sleep even more than he did.

  Shannon nodded and finished her drink, slid out from the booth. Matthew smiled a thanks at Charlotte. “Bryce says John’s going to act as chauffeur for the shopping trip tomorrow, so if by chance I don’t see you, I want to wish you good luck finding perfect outfits and their matching shoes.”

  “Our plan is to start with the shoes and work our way up from there,” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

  They said good-night to Bryce and Charlotte, and Matthew led Shannon out of the restaurant. She covered a yawn before they were halfway to the car. “I am wiped.”

  “I can imagine. I’m really glad you were able to relax.”

  “I like Charlotte,” Shannon mentioned as she settled in the car. “A lot.”

  “I can tell you do,” Matthew said lightly. He closed her car door and circled around to take the driver’s seat. “Bryce impresses me too.”

  “He’s charmed by her, and she feels safe with him. It was kind of interesting to watch their interplay tonight. They’re close for being a married couple.”

  Matthew was amused at her remark. “The way it should be in a good marriage.”

  “Did you have a good marriage with . . . I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember your wife’s name.”

  “Jessica.” He smiled. “We had a great marriage. We were young and very much in love. She died way too soon, long before the passion between us mellowed.”

  “How did she die?”

  He wanted to avoid answering at the moment, but it was a relevant question. He tried to give Shannon a word picture as a reply. “It was the kind of accident that was no one’s fault. A man had a heart attack while driving. She couldn’t avoid the resulting collision. Her loss left a huge hole in my life, in Becky’s too. Jessica was the bright light we both revolved around, took our cues from. She made our days flow together as a family. It took a while to find our footing again.”