Truth or Dare

by Fern Michaels

  “I’m staying,” Abner muttered. “I can do what I’m doing here just as well as at home. If Jack wakes up, I can hold his hand,” he said, grinning, his fingers tapping fast and furious. “And before any of you ask, I have my . . . ah . . . colleagues on this, and that includes Phil. Backup only.”

  “I guess that pretty much covers it all then,” Charles said. “Everyone report in in the morning. Don’t any of you do anything that will bring attention to yourselves. We’re dealing with children here, remember that. In the meantime, when they wake up, Ferg and I can take another shot at seeing if we can get any more information out of them. It’s just that they’re so young. And scared. I’m sure their parents drilled information into their heads about talking to strangers and all that goes with it. Schools do that now, too, I’m told. Am I wrong, or am I not remembering correctly that the older girl, Carrie, had a cell phone?”

  “No, you heard right,” Ted said. “Carrie said the people took it from her. I’m on that, too. She also said there were only two numbers she could call by pressing the number one and the number two. Mom and Dad. She doesn’t know who her parents’ carrier is. I have calls into some friends who have friends who work at various providers. If I come up blank, Abner will have to hack into the records.”

  “On my list of things to do,” Abner mumbled.

  “All right then, we’re outta here,” Maggie said, getting up and gathering all her gear and paperwork. “Wish us luck.”

  * * *

  Ninety minutes later, the trio from the Post pulled to the curb outside Maggie’s house in Georgetown. “If you guys want to come in, it’s okay. I can make some sandwiches, and we can keep on working or we can hit the sack.” Then she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper and said, “Unless you guys are up for a little night trip to one-eleven Apple Avenue in Arlington.” She held her breath waiting to see what Ted and Espinosa would say.

  Ted shifted into reverse, inched out from the parking space, did a lightning U-turn, and they were off. “I love the way you think, Maggie,” he cackled happily.

  “We could get caught, you know that, right?”

  “Absolutely I know that. The neighborhood probably has one of those Neighborhood Watch groups that does nothing but spy on their neighbors. We’ll park a few blocks away and go on foot. Just three people out for a nightly stroll before turning in. We’ll go in from the back—I have my lock-picking kit,” Ted said, excitement ringing in his voice.

  “What if there’s an alarm system that’s activated?” Espinosa asked nervously.

  “Then we use that gizmo Avery Snowden gave us. In ten seconds, it can figure out the code and dismantle it. I have it in my backpack.”

  “What if it’s a silent alarm?” Espinosa persisted.

  “Then, my friends, we’re screwed,” Ted said cheerfully. “Right now, this rain is in our favor. No one is out walking around; people looking out their windows see only rain. I’m going on the theory here that the Bannons walked away on their own for whatever reason but left things just the way they would if they were going away for the weekend. Timers. Outside lights come on at a certain time. One light or two goes on at another time. That kind of thing.”

  Espinosa wasn’t about to give up. “What about mail piling up and trash pickup. How is that explained?”

  “Post office holds the mail, it’s that simple. As to the trash, the Bannons are neat and tidy, and there is no trash or their story to the neighborhood is a family crisis of some kind, and you’ll see us when you see us,” Maggie snapped. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it when and if it happens. Now shut up, Joe, before I smack you. If you’re that worried, you can stay in the car.”

  Espinosa mumbled something that sounded like, Smart-ass, then went silent.

  Twenty minutes later, Ted did a slow drive-by all the way down Apple Avenue. “Looks like half-acre lots. Nice space between the houses. No dogs will be outside barking. It’s late, but there are still some lights on in people’s houses. Okay, roll down your windows and tell me what you see. The house should be the third one on the right.”

  “Lamppost gaslight by the mailbox. The numerals one-one-one are those stick-on tapes. There’s dim light inside coming from somewhere, and I think there’s a light in the back, or else it’s the neighbor’s light. When you do the return, I’ll be looking at it from another angle. We might have to go in by the front door if it is the Bannons’ light in the back. It looks pretty bright even from here and through the rain. Turn around,” Maggie ordered.

  Ted obliged and drove to the end of the street, then turned around and inched his way down the road. There were no other cars in sight, and there were no other cars on the street. “Everyone parks in their own driveway. I wish it were that way in Georgetown,” Maggie groused. “Crapola. It is the Bannons’ backyard light. Let’s get to it. Park down at the very end, and we’ll run back. We’re lucky there’s no light by the front door. Be sure you have your picklock in hand when we get there.”

  Ted hated it when Maggie gave him orders. What did she think he was going to do, stand in the middle of the road so everyone could see him as he looked for his picklock? He didn’t say a word, just slammed on his brakes and grinned when Maggie almost landed in his lap.

  “That wasn’t funny, Ted,” Maggie yelped.

  “Yeah it was. It shut you up for a few seconds.”

  “Can you two bill and coo later? Let’s do this and get it over with,” Espinosa said as he climbed out of the car and sprinted forward without waiting for his colleagues.

  Maggie was next out, followed by Ted. They all arrived at 111 at the same time, and Ted raced up the steps and got to work. “Run-of-the-mill lock. Five seconds and we’re in. Hurry up!”

  In they were. The trio stood stock-still, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the semidarkness. To their surprise, there was no alarm system. In each room there was a small night-light plugged into a wall socket. The lights gave off virtually no illumination but did reveal what was on the floor, so no one tripped over anything. In the kitchen, there was a light over the gas range and a clock whose numbers read 0000. “Let’s spread out. Espinosa, take the upstairs. I’ll start here in the kitchen and work my way to the front of the house. Ted, you take the garage and the basement. Move, guys. If you discover anything, give a soft whistle.”

  Maggie watched Ted as he prepared to head to the basement. “Hey, watch your head there!” she warned the lanky reporter before she set to work. First, she went through the cabinets. Service for six of everything. Family plus one guest, and if more guests showed up, they got the paper plates. Pantry. Nothing unusual and not well stocked. Staples mostly. She moved things but discovered nothing. The utility closet gave up nothing other than a broom, a dustpan, a mop, and a bucket along with a bag of what looked like cleaning rags. A shelf held two boxes of trash bags, a bottle of some kind of floor cleaner called Finish. Nothing.

  The laundry room held a washer and dryer, both front loaders. Two cabinets overhead contained detergent, fabric sheets, and two bottles of bleach. All lined up neatly. An ironing board was set up in the far corner, with a steam iron resting on a metallic pad. A portable drying rack sat next to the ironing board with four purple hangers. There was no laundry basket; nor were there any clothes in the washer or the dryer. Nothing here.

  Maggie made her way back to the kitchen to check the refrigerator. A six-pack of Dasani water sat on one shelf. Four bottles of green tea sat next to the water bottles. A four-pack of peach yogurt that had yet to expire sat alone on the top shelf next to a can of Reddi-wip. There were no eggs, milk, juice, or cheese. No dried or wilted fruit or vegetables in the bins, like in her own refrigerator back in Georgetown. This refrigerator had been cleaned out in preparation for leaving, an indication, at least to Maggie, that the Bannons planned on returning or that they wanted whoever checked the house to think that.

  There were two small cactus plants in little cardboard containers on the windowsill. Cactuses could virtually l
ive forever without water. Probably a project Carrie brought home from school.

  Maggie moved to the front of the house and was no more successful than she had been in the kitchen and laundry room. All neat and tidy. One lone picture on the mantel of the three children standing next to a carousel at some amusement park. No photo albums on the coffee table. No pictures of the parents. No prints on the walls.

  This little night visit was a total bust as far as she could tell. She frowned. Something was bothering her. Something different. Odd. What? She couldn’t come up with a thing, and she did have a sharp eye. Or as Ted often said, “Maggie has an eagle eye, she doesn’t miss a thing.” Well, whatever it was, she was missing it. She hated when that happened because it made her crazy.

  Ted appeared out of nowhere. He shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t find a thing. Anyone could live here. There’s no junk in the garage or basement. Crazy-ass staircase going down to the basement. I almost killed myself. No overflow of any kind. No cars, of course. A lawn mower and a leaf blower that looked barely used. Mr. Bannon is not someone who tinkers in the garage. No little jars of nails or screws that every home owner has. No cans of paint on the shelves. Strangers with no ties to anything live here would be my assessment.”

  “What about the basement?” Maggie asked.

  “That was the basement, weren’t you listening? Totally empty except for the furnace. There are four small windows with wire mesh nailed across them. That’s nothing out of the ordinary; most people do that to avoid break-ins. The main reason probably being that crazy-killer staircase. And the lights were burned out. I had to use my flashlight,” Ted said.

  Espinosa joined them. He threw his hands up in the air. “Nothing. Clothes. Not a lot. Three changes each from what I can tell. Suitcases in the closet in the master bathroom. No excesses of any kind. Two bars of soap, three extra rolls of bathroom tissue. Six bath towels, six hand towels, six washcloths. One extra tube of toothpaste. No extra toothbrushes. One bottle of Aleve in the medicine cabinet. One bottle of baby aspirin, for the kids, I guess. Two boxes of Band-Aids. Peroxide and alcohol. Shampoo and hand lotion. One can of shaving cream. No meds of any kind. A big fat nothing.”

  “That tells me their departure was planned. There is no trace, no clue as to where they went. They must have been called to go on an assignment, and they called Aunt Betty to pick up the kids, which we already know she did. That’s where everything stops. I wonder if they had a cleaning lady or if the kids had a babysitter,” Maggie mused.

  “I think it’s weird there is no landline. They obviously relied on cell phones. There is no computer, printer, or fax machine. I thought everyone had a computer in their house. One TV. None in the kids’ rooms. A cheap model, two hundred and fifty dollars tops. My bad,” Ted said.

  “So now what?” Espinosa asked.

  “Maybe we missed something,” Maggie said. “Hidden safe, false wall, something under the floorboards, that kind of thing. I hate thinking this was a bust. There has to be something. Something we missed.”

  “Give it up, Maggie. This is a cookie-cutter house, not a custom-made one where all those things you mentioned could be installed. The Bannons just existed here, nothing more. It’s all a screen.”

  Maggie’s shoulders slumped. She hated to admit defeat. “Hey, we could go to the post office tomorrow and see if we can collect their mail. Yeah, yeah, that’s a federal offense. It was just a thought,” she said, at the look of horror on her partners’ faces.

  “What was in the desk?” Ted asked.

  “Just receipts for household bills. Canceled checks. All the same: electric, water, taxes, insurance. The checking account is in Wells Fargo and in both names. Allison and Steven Bannon. This address. The last bank statement shows a balance of $656.23. One monthly cash deposit of $1,000. That’s it. Wherever they deposit their paychecks, it isn’t in this account. These people are pros. Special agents of some kind would be my guess,” Maggie said. “Everything appears to be geared to a quick getaway and leaving very little behind and easily replaced at their next location.”

  “We should go,” Espinosa said. Maggie nodded.

  In the car on the way back to Georgetown, the trio was silent. When Ted pulled to the curb, Maggie got out and walked to her door. Ted drove away to drop off Espinosa.

  Hero, Maggie’s rescue cat jumped up into her arms to greet her. He purred as Maggie crooned to the contented cat. “I know there was something there, Hero. My gut says it’s there, and I missed it. I missed it. Me! Do you believe that?”

  Maggie headed to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, and got out some tuna for Hero.

  “Sooner or later, I’ll figure it out. You know why, Hero? Because I am an investigative reporter.”

  Hero stopped eating long enough to raise his head and offer up a meow to show he was on her side.

  Chapter Five

  It was early, and the sun had yet to crawl toward the horizon, when Charles Martin slid a tray of sticky buns into the oven. Fergus clapped his hands in anticipation as he scooped out the seeds from a delicious-looking melon. The table was set for three, as Abner had spent the night.

  “It smells good in here. Cinnamon, right?” Abner said as he took his place at the table. He was freshly showered and shaved. He wore the same messy clothes, but as he put it, “I’m clean, and I smell good.”

  “Did you get any sleep?” Charles asked. “Ferg and I took turns taking catnaps.”

  “Two hours. I don’t require much sleep,” Abner said. “I finally cracked the code, and I now know who the kids’ parents really are. It’s a good thing I’m an honest man,” Abner said, tongue in cheek. “I could sell this information to our enemies and make a fortune for myself.” When there was no response from Fergus or Charles, he hastened on. “Not that I would ever do that. I simply took what information I needed, closed all the doors I opened, and backstopped everything. Phil went behind me to make sure I covered all my tracks. Trust me when I tell you no one will ever know that file was penetrated. We are good to go, gentlemen.”

  “So what did you find out?” Fergus asked as he held out a generous slice of melon.

  “Allison and Steven Bannon are the names the kids’ parents go by at the moment. They are special agents of the CIA, which assigns them to various agencies with no real home base other than The Farm at Langley. From what I could gather, they work on a three-year assignment, then move to another location and work for another agency. Before this gig, which is only twenty-two months old, they were assigned to the DEA and lived in Gilbert, Arizona. One could call them floaters, for want of a better term. They go where their special talents are needed. They are at the top of the heap. The best of the best. The rarity here is that they are husband and wife. Originally, they were partners that . . . ahhh, came together. They got married and had kids. A small war broke out, and they were going to be split up. The couple fought it and won. They are the only husband and wife team for any of the alphabet agencies. I guess the powers that be recognized their value and unique talents, and finally agreed to keep them together rather than lose them. And the money invested in their training also has to be taken into consideration. It’s expensive to train a covert agent.”

  Charles removed the tray of sticky buns from the oven and set it on the counter. “From everything I’ve read over the years about the agencies, that is the one thing that is verboten. No romantic entanglements. Emotions interfere with the job at hand. I’m impressed. The Bannons must be an incredibly special couple would be my opinion.”

  Using a spatula, he removed the sticky buns one by one, the cinnamon syrup and butter drizzling down the sides. He placed the platter in the middle of the table. A dozen sticky buns. Abner would eat ten, Fergus and Charles one each.

  “Who are they in real life?” Fergus asked.

  “As far as I could tell, that information had been scrubbed from the database. Whatever their real names, she is thirty-nine and he is forty-one. Both were recruited b
y the CIA right out of college. Five years later, they were partnered up. From that point on, I guess, you could say the rest is history, which brings us to the here and now.”

  “Ah, yes, the here and now. The only problem with that is we do not know where they are. Did Aunt Betty show up in either of their background information?” Fergus asked.

  “No. Nothing was said about relatives on either the mother’s or the father’s side. At least none of record. I think this Betty, whoever she is, is just another agent who works for one of the agencies. Remember now, being the best of the best means you carry a lot of clout, so if the Bannons, to use the name the kids go by, need help with those kids, they get it via Betty or someone like Betty. I think that would apply to babysitters also,” Abner said as he shoveled his fifth sticky bun into his mouth.

  “So, we know that they are CIA agents. But we still have no names. What do we do now? They’re gone, and we have their kids. Do they even know that? And where is Betty?” Charles looked at Fergus and Abner as if they had the magic answer when his cell phone chirped to life. He held up his hand and mouthed the name Maggie. He turned the phone to speaker mode and set it in the middle of the table so the others could hear.

  Maggie quickly recounted the night’s events, ending with, “The place was scrubbed. It’s so sterile, you could eat off the floor. The Bannons are gone, that’s the bottom line. I do want to say, though, something is niggling at me, something I either saw or felt that wasn’t right. That doesn’t mean I’m right—it’s just . . . I don’t know, call it a gut feeling that I missed something. We’re going back as soon as we catch some breakfast and prowl the neighborhood, talk to the neighbors, and see if we can shake the tree. Dennis is on his way to some senior housing complex. He said he’ll check in later. Did any of you come up with anything during the night?”

  Charles motioned to Abner to speak up, which he did.

  “Wow, Maggie, that’s really good work. Do you think you’ll be able to find out which agency they’re working for now?”