by Aimee Laine
“Hello, Mira.” He held his expression as flat and unemotional as he could.
She gasped but recovered, shot a glance toward Stuart, James, Cael, and Lily before she turned back to him. “I didn’t expect you, Wyatt.”
“I brought him.” Stuart returned from the kitchen, an apple in hand. “Gonna be my boss,” he said between bites.
Charley drew in a deep breath and let it go, but the hint of a smile threw Wyatt.
What exactly is Stuart’s relationship with them?
• • •
Charley wanted to run up to Wyatt, grab him by the edges of his jacket and hold him so tight he’d never leave. Instead, she banked a laugh at Stuart, who clearly didn’t understand the nature of a secret—a time limit did not apply.
She knew Wyatt would notice the nonchalance of Stuart’s entry. It didn’t matter, though—their meeting didn’t revolve around either of them. They’d come together to find Chase.
Five days had passed since he’d disappeared. Sophie’s return confused the situation, leaving Charley and the detectives with no new information and even more questions.
“Would you like a chair?” She motioned to the spots around the room.
Wyatt shook his head as Stuart plopped onto the loveseat.
Sophie took up most of the couch, so Charley moved to the end and sat on the arm.
“Thank you for coming, Stuart, and you, too, Wyatt.” Charley nodded at each in turn. “Would you like a debrief?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Wyatt said as Stuart’s focus returned to his apple.
Charley went through the details as she knew them.
“Have the police tapped your phone?” Wyatt asked.
She tilted her head toward him. “Yes, but it hasn’t been useful. They didn’t call, and with Sophie back, I can’t imagine they will. There was no ransom request. Nothing.”
“But we do have Sophie’s note.” James handed the paper Charley found to Wyatt.
He studied it a moment. “Has she given you any context for it?”
“No.” Charley shook her head. “None. She doesn’t remember it. What do we do?” Charley said with a hitch in her voice.
Wyatt’s small head shake did not encourage her. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but with three guys in the FBI, she’d hoped they’d unlock a door behind which she’d find Chase. Fantastical, sure, but what mother wouldn’t think through all possibilities, ethereal or otherwise?
“I talked with Detective Bland before we started over. Apparently you guys—” Wyatt pointed to Charley and her group. “You have a lot of people on your side. My mother even.”
Over the years, they’d led Katherine, Wyatt’s Mom, to believe Charley left the house to her granddaughter, named after her. They’d all been too taken in by her to sever their ties.
“Anyway,” Wyatt continued. “They’ve got it all laid out, multiple officers tracking leads and sources—”
“We could assist more.” Cael sat upright. “We have our own resources. We’ve scoured every connection we could come up with on our own already. We need to be prepared for every possibility.”
“Yes, but since you’ve got a vested interest in this, they want you to remain outside the bounds of the investigation.” Wyatt’s gaze tracked to Stuart.
“We need to do something.” Lily spoke through a small hitch in her own breath.
Cael pulled her in tighter to him.
“As the victim’s family, the best thing you can do is let the professionals do their job,” Wyatt said.
Stuart jumped up. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Charley and Lily both jerked back. Cael and James leaned forward, their elbows on their knees.
“Give ’em access, Wyatt. You know you can trust Cael, at least,” Stuart said.
Surprise warred with excitement over the possibility they’d have more to do. Wyatt turned to Stuart, a serious glare in his eye. Charley’s heart skipped a beat; he’d dashed her hopes as fast as Stuart raised them.
“Cael?” Wyatt said. “Can I speak with you privately, please?”
Cael nodded and released Lily, rose from the couch and stood. He lead Wyatt out of the room.
“What does he need to really let us in on this, Stuart?” Charley asked.
She’d give him anything if they could be more active participants. They’d been designed for investigative missions, and Charley knew they would find success if someone gave them entry to the FBI’s greater resources, not just their own.
“I don’t know.” Stuart flopped onto the couch. “He’s Director level, so I’m not privileged to most of his information. But … he is going to transfer me to his department.” Stuart added a sweet smile—one Charley knew meant he’d found his place again with Wyatt.
Her own frustration clouded her happiness for him.
Wyatt came back in, followed on his heels by Cael.
“Wyatt’s going to transfer me to his department, and I’ll get the information we need. Whatever I relay to you must be held in the strictest of confidences—which, of course, most of us know how to do.” He shot a glance at Stuart. “I don’t know if this will help or not, but it’s worth a shot.”
Charley stood and walked to Wyatt. He tilted down to her, his gaze meeting hers—the same but different, mature but young, tough but soft. So many memories, so many times she’d lain in bed and wished him there beside her. The man before her, despite everything she’d done to him, had once again put her first—whether he did it for her or his duty.
“Wyatt—”
“Don’t.” He brought one hand up and wiped away a tear that made its way down her cheek. He closed his eyes as his thumb caressed her skin.
Charley took a tentative inch of a step forward. The connection remained, no matter the number of lies that formed the wall between them.
She laid her hand on his, left his against her face and looked up into his green eyes. “Thank you.” She poured sincerity into those two little words in the hope it could begin to mend what she’d ripped into so many pieces.
His lips firmed into a tight line as he dropped his hand. “Just doing my job.”
• • •
Charley moved away as Cael touched Wyatt’s arm, taking his attention. Her departure burned right through his core. He’d wanted to crush her against him. He’d wanted to feel her move under him like he’d always imagined. Yet, he couldn’t put the face with the memories.
Instead, he reverted to his work. With the boy as priority, a relationship would lose precedence.
“We can set up here if you have an office, or back at mine if you’d like,” Wyatt said.
“We have an office this way.” Cael walked toward the home’s entrance again.
Wyatt turned to follow with Stuart and James in tow. They traipsed down the hall by the stairs. Art covered the walls, signed by Charley and Cael—who Wyatt remembered he’d known before as Carter.
Cael led him to an office decked out in state-of-the-art equipment—pieces Wyatt had attempted to requisition for years with no luck. Some of it, he knew, cost as much as his car. Thousands of dollars of computer hardware lay in front of him.
“What do you guys do, exactly?” Wyatt asked as he took in the room, three times the size of his own office.
“Exactly what you hired us for. Intelligence,” Charley said from behind him.
Intelligence my ass.
Cael took the controls at the computer, motioning for Charley to sit at the phone. “We just need to dial in Detective Bland before we make this call.”
Wyatt nodded him forward.
Charley’s hands shook as she took the phone. For a seasoned agent who worked with the FBI, her nerves surprised Wyatt.
Cael pressed a few buttons, which meant the call would be recorded.
“We’re good to go here, folks,” Bland said.
Wyatt and the rest placed headsets over their ears.
“You ready, Charley?” Cael asked.
&nb
sp; She nodded, bringing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” A robotic female voice answered.
“This is Charley Randall. Who is this?” Her voice lent itself to a plea.
“That doesn’t matter.” The voice held a harsh undertone. “Took you long enough.”
Wyatt bristled at the tone and the implication they’d waited to call.
“Are you alone?”
She glanced up to Cael, Wyatt, James and Stuart. “Yes.”
“Good.” The voice turned deep and menacing. “You found the girl, then?”
Charley froze, her eyes growing wide. “Of course. But what about—”
The voice chuckled. “The boy? What about the boy?”
The room, while silent, remained as still as if frozen in time.
Charley opened her mouth as if to speak, but the voice interrupted. “He was a nice prize once we figured out she wasn’t you, Charley.”
“But—”
“No interruptions. You get this one call to us. That’s it. From now on, we’ll call you.”
Charley shivered in her seat, the phone rattling against her earring. Wyatt’s need to comfort warred with his role as investigator.
“Is he safe?” Her voice carried in a whisper.
“Yes.” The line died with one second to spare on their trace.
Charley dropped the phone and ran from the room with her hands over her face.
Wyatt laid the headphones on the desk. Three faces stared back at him.
“She’ll be on her balcony. I’m sure you can find the way,” James said.
• • •
Charley pushed through her door and marched onto her balcony. She grabbed one of her afghans and walked to the rail where she flipped the blanket around her shoulders and let it fall across her back.
The cool air calmed the fury which burned within her as the captors confirmed Chase’s containment but gave nothing more away. A fresh batch of tears spilled over her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand as footsteps signaled behind her.
Charley didn’t turn around but breathed deep. Wyatt. She hadn’t led him, but he’d found her.
“James told me where you’d be.”
“I figured one of them had.” She let a small laugh free.
“Can I sit?”
Charley motioned with a wave but didn’t turn around. Her desire for closeness warred with her need to focus on Chase.
“If you’re going to try and convince me Chase will be fine, don’t. You don’t know. We don’t know. No one knows, no matter what they said on the phone, which was nothing. It could all be a ploy, a ruse to build up my hopes.” She continued to stare into the vastness of the fast-approaching night.
Chase’s absence put her emotions on a roller coaster with no end.
“Ah … okay. So what I was actually going to say … you did a really great job on the phone. I know it might not sound like it, but … well … you did.” His shuffling feet reminded her of years passed.
She closed her eyes, dropped her head forward. “Thanks.”
“Okay then, I’ve … uh … I’m going back.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She’d not only lost Chase, she had a long way to win Wyatt again.
16
Wyatt returned to the office where Cael, James and Stuart sat in front of the monitor.
“Everything okay?” James shifted to the end of the desk.
Wyatt shrugged, leaned into the doorframe. “I guess. She says she’s okay.”
The raised eyebrow on James’s face suggested Wyatt should have stayed longer.
“Let’s go ahead, put the paperwork through for your transfers, and pull the little data I’ve found,” Wyatt said.
Cael slid from the computer. Wyatt took his spot, typed his codes into the FBI’s remote system, and followed the menus to the appropriate section for a transfer.
“I’d like to go through the information with you,” Wyatt said.
“I’m in,” James and Cael said.
“Me, too,” Stuart said.
Wyatt turned to find Cael and James on the other side of his desk with their gazes fixed on him.
His confidence in himself waned. “I’m in for the long haul, too.”
“There’s a chance this could hurt worse than any other assignment you’ve had.” Cael nodded toward the open door as the printer began to buzz.
Did he mean Charley?
Wyatt cocked his head as he realized the implications of what he’d offered. The assignment would be a no-brainer—if they found the child. Charley, on the other hand, could, in fact, be the metaphorical death of him. He could give them the data and go, walk out, and leave as she’d done to him, or stay and potentially go through it all over again.
Wyatt turned back to the screen to finish the transfer. “I’ll take my chances.”
Stuart, Cael, and James each found chairs and pulled them up the desk where they waited with an impatience Wyatt knew came from personal ties to a problem. They drummed fingers, tapped toes, and cracked bones in their fingers and necks.
Wyatt shivered each time they did it. He typed to the speed of the system. When he reached the last page, he turned to Cael. “You’re sure you want this transfer?”
Cael nodded.
“Because if I put in for it, you’re going to have to work for me for two years before you can change again.”
Cael acknowledge his ‘yes’ with another head nod.
Wyatt hit the return key. “Done. Now, gentlemen, we have a little boy to track, and I need to know what you’ve found out about that phone call.”
For the next two hours, James and Cael brought Wyatt up to speed on the work they’d done outside the perimeter of law enforcement. Wyatt knew they had to wonder if their trip to Montreal had any connection to Chase’s disappearance. It had happened while they’d been gone, there’d been no leads—typical of cases Wyatt had handled—and Chase’s family had a lot of money—also normal. The fact a note had been left on Sophie, with a number, suggested Charley had been the real target.
The kidnappers made an error, and Chase became their fallback plan.
According to all records, detectives notified the Center for Missing and Exploited Children on the day of the event. The local authorities had issued Amber alerts that stayed active for three days while they gathered leads, none of which panned out. The cops continued to cull through them.
“It’s like sifting for gold,” Cael said. “You think you find a piece and damn if it isn’t pyrite.”
Wyatt looked up from his own stack of information. “I was thinking nearly the same thing.”
The phone log provided nothing new. After another two hours without success, Wyatt’s stomach grumbled. In the quiet of the room, all three faces turned to him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, we’re sorry.” James turned from his seat to the clock on the side wall. “We need to eat. It’s way past dinner, and we’ve offered you nothing. Charley will have my hide for that.”
Wyatt smiled at the thought of Charley and James head to head. Big tough man, tiny woman. He could see it. “Let’s take a break. Stuart and I can go get something and come back.”
“Oh, no. No, you don’t. We have food here, and unless you want to deal with the wrath that is Charley, then me, because I’ll have to deal with her, you’ll stay,” James said.
Wyatt noted Cael remained quiet, but his smirk did enough to convey the same message.
Stuart rose. “I’ll ah, just go check in with them,” he said. “See if Lily did any cooking.” He disappeared and left Wyatt with James and Cael.
“We have a confession,” Cael said.
Uh oh. Wyatt braced himself with elbows on the mound of papers before him. He clasped his hands together. “Okay.”
“Now, don’t get mad, but we thought you should know this before much more happens.” James turned to Cael for confirmation.
“Stuart has known about us for a little
while,” Cael said.
Stuart had said he’d learned about them in the beginning, right? This I can deal with. “A little while? How long is ‘a little while’?” Wyatt’s question surfaced rife with sarcasm. He sucked in a breath.
They looked at each other before James murmured, “All sixteen years. He’s … ah … been a part of our family the whole time—or, rather, most of the time.”
Stuart hadn’t gotten further with details before he’d dragged Wyatt into his own past. He’d assumed, by way of Stuart’s tag on Lily all those years ago and being yanked into the Army, that he’d left it at that, or maybe seen them once or twice since they both worked for the government. The way James said it made Wyatt think Stuart not only knew but kept up.
But what do I know? I’m the odd man out, good for nothing more than my job.
Wyatt made sure his eyes showed none of the emotion that turned him to stone. Sixteen years and Charley really had come between him and Stuart. Wyatt had found her again only to be stabbed in the heart by her choice.
She’d kept the wrong man close.
• • •
As they reached into the dinner hour and beyond, Charley’d left the safety of her balcony, pulled Lily into the kitchen, and forced her into some semblance of normalcy. Charley took a spot on a barstool while Lily stirred a pot of who-knew-what or even if it would be edible. On the couch, Sophie wavered between quiet and asleep, and awake and tearful. She stayed hidden under her covers most of the time, thanks to a dose of pain killers administered on a regular basis.
Stuart had taken on Sophie’s latest crying jag when he’d appeared from within what Charley called the man-cave.
“Smells good in here,” Charley said.
“Mmm-hmm,” Lily murmured.
Charley smiled as she saw, for the first time in almost a week, an inkling of the normal Lily. The tiny bit of happiness she’d allowed herself crashed with the footfalls that stormed behind her. Charley turned as Wyatt barreled into the living room. He pointed at Stuart, a firm line to his lips, turned, and pointed outside without a word. Behind him, James and Cael hurried into the living room. Stuart’s wide eyes told her Wyatt needed some explanations.