by Becky Flade
“I realize fifty thousand dollars may sound like a lot of money, but it’s a small sum for a ransom.” Ragin held the mug but didn’t sip. “It suggests a financial motive isn’t the driving force or not only. It also suggests the kidnapper has a rudimentary education and isn’t sophisticated. In my professional opinion, the offender knows you. And well enough to be confident you can raise that particular sum in the time they’ve allotted. The amount may be significant for other reasons specific to this offender.”
“Also suggesting their goal is personal, not financial,” Jayson added.
“True. I think you know whoever took your son. They knew you’d recognize their voice. There was no other reason to mask it with an electronic device.”
She replayed the brief, tormenting call in her mind
“It was a woman.” The voice had been altered, it was mechanized but it was a woman.
“Syntax, cadence, it played female to me, also.”
“She called you a cop,” Jayson pointed out, “and a princess.”
Agent Ragin nodded. “We’ve got avenues to pursue thanks to that phone call. The technicians will narrow the geographic location, and we’ve gleaned solid investigatory leads.”
“You don’t want us to pay the ransom.”
“We’ve got lines to tug now. We can and will find Brady. Making the kidnapper wait for the money insures your son’s well-being. But once you pay they don’t need him anymore. They have no incentive to keep him alive. We have an excellent recovery rate in the Philadelphia Field Office. Let us do our job and bring your boy home. Alive and well.”
“How excellent? A hundred percent? Ninety-five?”
“I’d rather not say. That’s not what’s important. Priority must be identifying and apprehending the person or persons who took your son.”
She looked to Jayson. “What do you think?”
“I think she made excellent points about where to start looking. And I don’t disagree that once we pay, the kidnappers have no incentive to keep him alive. I’m a former law enforcement agent and an intelligent man, what she says makes sense.”
“But?”
He gripped her hands in his. His hands are ice cold. He’s shaking.
“He’s our son.”
She laid her head against his shoulder and released the breath she hadn’t known she’d held. Emotion warred with intellect. She couldn’t fault the agent. She spoke from experience and training. But that didn’t mean she understood or even began to comprehend, the risk she asked them to take with Brady’s life. For her, the arrest was paramount.
For us, Brady is everything.
She suspected Jayson teetered on the verge of an emotional collapse. He’d been strong for her all day. I’ll be his strength now. Keeping her hands in his and with a resolve, she didn’t know she possessed, despite the Parker stubborn streak, she gave Ragin their decision.
“You have until the deadline to find our son. Then we’re paying.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Kylee sat, slumped forward, staring at the phone as though willing it to ring and looked as haunted as he felt with dark, sunken eyes, and frailer than he’d ever seen her. He’d barely slept, catching a few minutes, dreaming in short snatches. Nightscapes of his son calling for him, begging for help. But he couldn’t save him. Juxtaposed with Kylee’s heartbreak, her face contorted into a frightening façade of accusation. And his father laughing as the dead bastard swung a bat at Brady’s head. The images rode him throughout the long night and the longer day.
He knew she slept as poorly—they’d tried to rest in Brady’s narrow bed. Neither willing to leave his space or the unique scent of innocence and talcum powder he related to his son. She’d whimpered and sobbed in equal measure as the night crept toward day.
And there was nothing I could do, nothing I can do. But sit and wait. And watch Kylee suffer. She held her body as though in physical pain, a pain so intense no one could withstand it long. Did she hurt even half as much when I left? If she did, I’ll spend the rest of my life and all eternity paying penance. Christ, is this my penance? Will the ones I love all suffer for my mistakes?
The door opened and his head turned to it like it had every time in the last twenty-four hours, like Brady would just walk through the front door any minute.
He couldn’t help the reflex—the instant hope and the immediate despair. His former boss’ arrival made no difference.
It wasn’t Brady, so it didn’t matter. Officers and agents alike nodded to Stedman in quiet deference as he navigated the room. He bought that respect with ten years of my life. He owes me and he knows it. Hope rose again though the stalwart agent’s expression offered none.
“Have you slept at all?” Stedman asked.
“In short batches. What do you know?”
“Not much. Checcio reached out—whoever has Brady isn’t a player. There aren’t whispers on the street. Prison grapevine is quiet. FBI and Philly PD have kept me in the loop, and they’re not having better luck.”
“Ragin grilled Kylee for hours over every arrest, every conviction, and so far not a single suspect has been identified.”
“She advised you not to pay the ransom.”
It wasn’t a question. Stedman knew the Federal Bureau’s policy on kidnapping, but also the statistical probability of getting Brady back after conceding to the abductor’s demands. Brady’s chances would diminish once money changed hands.
“Mr. Parker liquidated Kylee’s investments and returned with the money a little over an hour ago.” He stared at Stedman. “I couldn’t even help with that.”
“Don’t you think it odd her father’s on all her accounts?”
“As a single mother, she made arrangements for her parents to assume custody of our son if anything happened to her. I don’t find it at all odd her father has access to her assets. She’d want to provide for Brady if he were orphaned.”
“You need a face, a name, someone tangible to be angry with right now. Being that person is the least I can do.” Stedman cleared his throat. “Paying the ransom could be a grave mistake. When the kidnapper calls back, demand proof of life and negotiate. Give the FBI time to generate a lead. Let them bring your son home. Alive.”
“They have nothing!” Heads turned. Jayson felt the stares of the people around them, sensed the change in the room. “That kid, the technician David? He worked all night and all day trying to trace the number, isolate a cell tower, and clean up the recording. Right now he’s looking through traffic cam footage—frame by frame. They think it was a burner phone. They think it’s a woman. They think it’s personal and not financial. They think it’s someone with an ax to grind. But they know nothing other than the person who took our son has promised to return him in exchange for fifty grand.”
“And that’s what they’re going to get,” Kylee declared.
He went to her. She hadn’t touched him all day, and he didn’t want to invade her private space, regardless of what he craved. But he needed her. His heart tripped when she laced her fingers through his. I don’t deserve her.
“I feel small.”
“Powerless.”
“I can’t fix leaving. But no matter what, I’ll always be right where you need me, whenever you need me, for as long as I live.”
“It’s not the time to make promises.”
“That’s all I can do right now.”
The phone rang, casting the room into another hushed silence. It rang again. Her tremors ran through him as they waited for the signal. On the third shrill peal, the technician nodded. She hesitated; he picked up the phone.
“Where’s my son?”
“Where’s the bitch?”
The mechanical voice reverberated through the room as it had the night before. He struggled for control. His hands shook.
“Getting your money. I want to talk to Brady.”
“She’s such a good mother, isn’t she? Not that you would know anything about good mothers.”
&nbs
p; A cold dread filled his soul, battling with the fear and the guilt. It can’t be. No, no, no. He knew what he didn’t want to know and prayed he was wrong. Her fingers tightened on his thigh, her sobs held behind the palm she’d fixed over her mouth. He looked into her over-large eyes and tears streaked face, and saw she knew too. Focus on Brady.
“I don’t talk to my son. You don’t get your money.”
“Fine.”
He heard the echo of footsteps. Sense the call came from a large empty room. The creak of a door with rusty hinges followed some shuffling. And then Brady’s voice, small and vulnerable, filled the room.
“Mommy?”
“No, bub. It’s me.”
“Daddy! I wanna come home.” Brady’s voice cracked as though crying and JD’s eyes burned. “I’m scared.”
“That’s enough.” The robot voice barked over the pitiful sound of his child’s tears in the background. “Knock it off. I’ve been nice to you.”
“Brady!”
“If you want me to keep being nice to him, you’ll bring my money to the third floor of the warehouse at Third and Allegheny Avenue. You’ve got an hour. And Jase? Be a good daddy and come alone.”
The call disconnected. The room sprang to life. JD and Kylee remained motionless.
“You don’t think…”
“My sister has him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“What do we know about the location? Do we have line of sight for the third floor?” Stedman barked into his cell from the front seat of the SUV.
Part of him clung to the memory of the sweet little girl Amy had once been. It screamed in denial. Amy didn’t take his son. She wouldn’t hurt a child. But the rest of him, the sane, logical man hiding under trembling emotion whispered the truth. She used alcohol and drugs to kill whatever remained of the sweet little girl he taught to climb a tree. She’s a violent offender, an addict, and unstable. And an abuser who didn’t hesitate to raise her fists against their mother.
Brady isn’t safe.
“It’s a vacant warehouse. Local shooting gallery. We’re not going to be able to secure the location, but we have line of sight from all directions. Locals have rolled out swat.”
“Tell them this is HRT’s command,” Ragin directed.
The two agents argued jurisdiction and logistics as they sped toward the ransom drop. His fingers tightened on the pouch of money in his lap. It’ll never be enough. She’ll use Brady, threats against him, as leverage to siphon money from me and Kylee until Amy’s addiction kills her, or she kills someone else. Unless I stop her.
“Jase.”
Kylee’s quiet plea—she’d been silent since demanding to come along, since refusing to stay behind with her father—brought him from the dark thoughts he entertained. He looked at their joined hands instead of meeting her eye. She’ll know what I’m planning to do. She’ll try to talk me out of it if she suspects. Or worse; she won’t try to change my mind.
“Agent Stedman is trying to get your attention.”
His former boss held out a badge and a firearm. A quick glance confirmed both were his. He met Stedman’s eye.
“You still work for the DEA. I didn’t process your resignation. For now, take the badge. It gives you authority on the scene you wouldn’t have otherwise. We can discuss the rest at a later date.”
Does he suspect? And had he just approve the use of deadly force? He accepted both without a word. Can I kill Amy to protect Brady? His son’s terrified sobs haunted him; knew they always would. She stared at the gun. She enjoyed weapons, had a good eye, and excellent aim. But she stared at the gun with bleak eyes. It was a look he’d seen on his mother’s face countless times during his childhood.
“My mother?” He felt the words reverberate in his chest, knew he’d spoken them, but didn’t hear his own voice. He feared and worshipped in equal measure the voice he heard throughout his childhood. It was his father’s.
Am I more the man he was than the man I want to be? Amy did this to us. And knew he could pull the trigger.
“She’s with the Parker’s. We’ve asked Kylee’s father to keep our suspicions confidential until we have confirmation. How sure are you it was your sister on the phone?”
“As sure as I can be.” He checked the gun’s site and clip before putting it in his jacket. Set the badge on the pouch of money and retook her hand. With the cold steel in his pocket and the warm tin under his palm, he felt stronger, surer, than he had since his son went missing. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her since I got back. But the dig about my mother? Asking if I was a good father? That sounds like her. And she called me Jase. Not JD or Jayson, or Donovan, even.”
“I ran into her once, years ago, at the precinct. Before Brady. She called me a princess and her mother an old bitch. Then again a couple months ago at the garden center. She said ugly things about Brady and I hit her.” She rocked back and forth. “Oh, God. This is my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“We’re here.” Ragin slowed the car. The building loomed at the intersection. A dim light glowed from a window on the third floor.
“The property is part of an urban renewal initiative. It was purchased, rehabbed and is being converted into office space. There shouldn’t be anyone inside, not users or squatters.” She stared out the window.
“How do you know that?” Stedman asked.
“I’m on the board for the urban renewal project.”
“Could she have the information? Would she know you were associated with that building in particular?” Ragin asked.
“I don’t see how. Jase?”
“Doubtful. It’s probably a space Amy used to score or sleep, maybe both. She knew it was empty and thought it would make a good hiding spot. Familiar ground.”
“I don’t like the coincidence of her choosing this building.”
“I don’t like any of this. Some of her moves feel too sophisticated for a junkie acting on impulse, but we don’t have time for more theories.” He glanced at his watch. “Five minutes.”
“Here.” Ragin handed him an ear wig and a small wireless microphone he clipped to his jacket. “Philly police, FBI and an unofficial DEA detail are set up in a two-block perimeter around the building. It’s tight. Swat is set up on the rooftops, but they have limited line of sight to the third floor. EMTs are nearby and on standby.”
Stedman interrupted, “This could be a trap. We don’t know, not for sure the suspect is your sister. And we don’t know what her or their actual motivation is. It could be to kill you. The boy might not even be on site. Until we know he is, our first priority is your safety. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Let me come with you.”
He expected this. Knew the moment she insisted on coming along she’d do this. But he couldn’t allow her to put herself in harm’s way. If he died tonight, Brady would need his mother more than ever. And he didn’t want her to see him kill his sister. She’ll never see me the same. I’ll still lose everything.
“That’s not a good idea. The more people on the scene, the more chance there is for error. And errors get people killed.” Stedman looked at him. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“Thank you.”
He had so much to say and no words with which to say them. He grabbed her and pulled her close, his lips taking hers. He poured all his emotion into the embrace. Please understand everything I have inside me for you. You’re everything. He broke the kiss and cupped her face in his palms. Tears sparkled on her eyelashes. His thumb skated across her cheek.
“Bring him home,” she whispered.
He nodded and exited the car. As he walked toward the corner of Third Street, his mind cleared. His blood ran cold. He’d pretended to be something he wasn’t for years. Some of it became part of him. A part he locked away, he thought forever. Everything came back with an ease he hadn’t expected.
I thought my past had come back to destroy me. Instead, it gives me strength. He ran h
is thumb over his bottom lip. Then cupped the gun in his pocket.
* * *
“I need to hear.”
She tried to remain in control. To remain calm as the distance between her and Jayson grew. He changed before her eyes. He stood taller, his graceful, meandering, tread appearing clipped and controlled. He moved quick and sure toward his target. I bet that talent served him well when he was undercover. A cop playing at gangster had to watch his own back. He’d have been formidable on the streets. He could take care of himself. Would take care of their son. But she couldn’t wait in ignorance.
“Did you hear me? I have to listen.”
Stedman nodded in her peripheral vision. The scanner had been tuned to the frequency of the tactical gear Ragin had given him in advance. When the agent turned the knob, Jayson’s voice filled the interior of the car.
The man posted at the far west corner of Third and Allegheny is visible from the street.
She ignored the responses. They weren’t real. None of this was real. All that mattered was Brady and Jayson. As though he knew she watched, he turned toward the vehicle. She splayed her hand against the window. I feel you. I’m with you. Then he disappeared within the dark entrance way. She gripped her rosary and worried one bead after another as she moved through the first decade.
Door’s been jimmied. There’s a flashlight on the floor. It’s pointing toward the stairs. I’m going up.
Please be careful.
Passing the first landing. There’s another flashlight and another flight of stairs. She thought this through. Doesn’t feel like Amy to me. Approaching the third floor now.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…
Amy! I have your money.
Figured it out. Damn. The tinny laugh issuing from the small speaker didn’t sound sane. Didn’t think you would. Hoped you wouldn’t. I wanted to see the look on your face when you saw me standing here. Would’ve almost been better than knowing I made that Parker bitch cry.