Okay, heavenly Dad, if You’re really out there and ready to help us, I could use some advice here. I don’t want to do the wrong thing.
He searched the senator’s face. Gradually, like water seeping into a sponge, a decision crept over him. Without looking away from Senator Webb’s eyes, he slipped his camera out of his pocket, slid open the catch to a compartment on the side, and popped out the SD card. He offered it to the senator on the palm of his hand.
Webb took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you for your trust.” He handed the card to his assistant. “Bentley, let’s take a look.”
Bentley, who had remained stoic and silent throughout most of the conversation, extracted a laptop computer from the briefcase. When he lifted the lid and pressed a series of buttons, the screen flashed to life. He slid the SD card into a slot in the computer’s side.
“You took a picture of the file?” he asked Ben, his fingers busy on the keyboard.
Ben shook his head. “No, I made an actual copy of the spreadsheet. An SD card is just a storage device, exactly like a flash drive. But a digital camera doesn’t recognize the format, so when you view pictures through the camera’s screen, the file is invisible. You need a computer to access it.”
Senator Webb looked impressed. “Nice job. I would never have thought of that.”
They watched the screen while Bentley displayed the contents of the SD card. Nikki grabbed Ben’s hand. Hers was so icy, he sandwiched it between his and tried to rub some warmth into it. How was she holding up? He glanced at her face. Pale and worried, but not panicky.
Bentley double clicked on the computer file and the spreadsheet software opened. A second later, the data loaded. Row after row of numbers and dates, none of them formatted.
“Notice the tabs.” Ben pointed at the bottom of the screen. “There are two sheets.”
The first tab, the one they were seeing, was labeled Depósitos. Deposits. Bentley clicked the tab for the second sheet, the one labeled Cuentas. Accounts.
At the top of the page were the names and addresses of several offshore banks in the Cayman Islands, along with what was clearly an electronic routing number. Beneath each bank’s listing were two columns containing a name and another number.
“That number is an account number,” Ben told them. “It matches the number on the first page. So sheet number one records deposits made to specific bank accounts, and the second identifies the bank account’s owner.”
Bentley scrolled down. A few names were English, but most Spanish. Ben didn’t recognize any of them, though a glance at the senator’s serious expression hinted that he did. Then they came to the name that had caused all the trouble.
Senator Adam Webb. The senator closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, his lips a hard, grim line.
The limo rolled to a stop and the driver’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “This is as close as they’ll let us get, sir.”
“Thank you, James.” The senator looked at Ben and then Nikki. “Let’s go get your son back.”
TWENTY-ONE
Nikki slid across the leather seat and followed Ben out of the limo. She grasped his hand as they waited for the senator and Mr. Bentley to join them in the frigid morning air. The sun had not yet risen above the jagged mountain peaks in the east, but the sky cast a chilly light on the restaurant parking lot where they stood. A dim lamp shone from somewhere inside the building, but there was no movement. It was still several hours before the restaurant opened for lunch.
A row of cars lined the opposite edge of the parking lot, several with streams of exhaust rising into the cold air from the tailpipes. A cluster of men, all in dark coats and gloves, stood behind one of the vehicles. Another man leaned against the side of the building, looking around the corner at a hotel next door.
A man broke away from the group and approached. He nodded in deference to Senator Webb.
“Senator, I’m Special Agent Farmer. I’m in charge of this operation.”
Nikki restrained herself from flying at the man. “Where’s my son?” Her sense of urgency colored her voice and made it come out shrill. She clung to Ben, shivering.
“These are the boy’s parents,” Senator Webb told the agent. “Could you give us an update on the situation?”
“Here, ma’am. Put this on.” The agent took off his coat. He handed it to Ben, who draped the heavy garment around her shoulders, and he wound the agent’s warm wool scarf around her neck.
“Th-thank you,” she said.
Farmer addressed the senator, but glanced at Ben and Nikki to include them in his update. “We lost track of her for a while after she took the boy from his grandmother’s house.”
Nikki gasped. “Mom! I forgot to call her back. She must be worried sick.”
“There’s an agent at her house in Portland, ma’am. We’re keeping her updated. The local police activated the Amber Alert system as soon as they got her call, and we placed someone there for her protection.” He glanced at Senator Webb. “If what you told the director on the phone is true, sir, we’re not taking any chances with the safety of anyone who might be able to offer testimony in the trial.”
“I promise you, it’s true.” The senator nodded toward Ben. “I hope we have enough proof now to implicate Harlow.”
“Wait a minute,” Ben said. “What do you mean you lost track of her? Were you watching her before she kidnapped Joshua?”
“Not physically,” Farmer said. “We received a call from Senator Webb’s office yesterday, alerting us to the fact that she was a suspicious person living under an assumed identity, along with an urgent request to monitor her cell phone. If we’d known what she intended, of course we would have been on-site to stop her.” His gaze switched to Nikki. “We intercepted the phone call you made to her last night.”
“That’s how we knew where you were,” Mr. Bentley told them. “You said you were staying with friends who run a church. That gave us a clue. Most of the churches on the island are Catholic, run by Catholic priests. There aren’t many run by individuals, so finding the right one was fairly easy.”
Nikki managed a weak laugh. “Allison mentioned the possibility that my mother’s phone might be tapped, and all the while, hers was.”
A sympathetic smile appeared on Mr. Bentley’s normally expressionless face. “I listened to the replay of that call. She told you about a possible tap on your mother’s phone to keep you from saying that she was coming to get them both. Remember, she suggested that you only say your friend was coming to help out. That way your mother wouldn’t question her suggestion about taking the child alone.”
And I fell for it. I followed her instructions to the letter. Nikki closed her eyes, guilt pounding inside her skull.
Agent Farmer continued. “Immediately after she hung up with you, she placed several calls to a private number in Arkansas, and we’ve traced that phone to one of Senator Harlow’s aides. Her calls weren’t answered, though. The next thing we heard was from the emergency dispatcher reporting the kidnapping.”
“How did she get here?” Ben’s gesture swept their surroundings. “Salt Lake City is a long way from Portland.”
“When she picked up the child, she went straight to the airport and bought a ticket to Seattle under the name Allison Scott. The kidnapping hadn’t been reported yet, so no one knew to watch for her. In Seattle, she left the security area, reentered a few minutes later wearing different clothes and a wig and purchased a flight to Salt Lake under the name Alicia Strickland. She and the child arrived here just after midnight last night and took a taxi to this hotel.” He pointed toward the building on the opposite side of the restaurant. “They haven’t left. We hacked into the hotel’s computer system and discovered a woman named Julia Pritchard rented room 511 around twelve-thirty. She paid cash for one night and requested a crib. That couldn’t have been a coincidence, so we’re positive it’s her.”
“Why are we standing here?” Nikki wanted to shout, but she kept her tone reasonab
le. “Why aren’t you going in there to get them?”
“Ma’am, we’re waiting for the go-ahead from D.C. When that happens, and as soon as our hostage negotiator arrives, we’ll evacuate the hotel.”
“Evacuate the hotel?” Ben’s arm around her tightened. “That will take forever.”
“We need to ensure the safety of everyone, sir.” Farmer dipped his head toward the nearby limo. “Why don’t you all wait in there, where it’s warmer? I’ll keep you posted.”
Nikki’s mind stumbled over the words hostage negotiator. Several movies she’d seen that featured hostage negotiators came to mind, along with bloody scenes of failed rescues.
No. Not my son. Not Joshua.
She had to do something.
Agent Farmer’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me a moment.”
He stepped away to answer the call.
Ben addressed Senator Webb. “Listen, I understand about keeping innocent people safe and all, but this is our son we’re talking about. A two-year-old boy. He’s been in the custody of this crazy woman for over twelve hours now. Can’t something be done to hurry this along?”
“I know you’re concerned, Mr. Dearinger. We all are.” The senator’s glance swept the agents clustered at the other end of the building. “These men represent the best the federal government has to offer. We need to trust them.”
Yeah, right. Ben scoffed at the idea. Trust the government. That’s a good one.
But he couldn’t very well express his disdain to Senator Webb, who was a member of that same government.
“I understand that, but you’re a senator. Surely you can throw your weight around, get things moving.”
The senator laughed. “I don’t have much weight with the director of the FBI.”
“I know, but—”
“Senator Webb?” Special Agent Farmer turned and extended the phone in their direction. “Sir, if you don’t mind, the director would like to speak with you. He wants to verify a few facts we learned from your staff.”
“Of course.” To Ben, he said, “I’ll do my best to speed things along.” The senator clapped a hand on Ben’s bare arm. “You’re not dressed for this cold, Mr. Dearinger. Agent Farmer is right. Why don’t you wait in the limousine with Ms. Hoffman while I speak with the director? I’ll join you both in a minute.”
He walked toward the special agent, Mr. Bentley trailing behind him.
Ben turned toward Nikki. “Well, maybe now we’ll—”
He stopped. Nikki was gone.
TWENTY-TWO
Nikki ran as quietly as she could across the parking lot and around the side of the hotel. Every second, she expected to hear angry voices ordering her to stop. They did not come. She dashed to the cover of a tall hedge, then slipped around the corner of the hotel. Only when she could no longer see the restaurant did she stop to get her bearings. She collapsed against the wall, her breath coming hard. The agent assigned to watch the hotel was focused on the front entrance. From his vantage point on the opposite corner of the restaurant, he couldn’t see the back of the building.
A quick scan of the small parking lot showed that his surveillance was probably sufficient to spot anyone leaving the hotel. Bordered by a tall concrete fence, there was only one row for parking cars, and the only way a car could go in or out was on the side of the building that faced the restaurant.
But the front wasn’t the only way into the building. As she knew there would be, there was a back exit.
What am I doing? I should let the FBI handle this.
But that was her son in there, being held captive by a woman who had deceived her. Remorse twisted her stomach into a knot, so strong it nearly doubled her over. She had been so stupid, so gullible. How could she have fallen for Allison’s lies? Ben was right. Who was dumb enough to believe that someone she barely knew would be generous enough to give her a week in a Florida resort, free of charge?
Snatches of conversations she’d had with Allison over the past four months came back to her. She’d been such a sucker, pouring out her life story to her new friend. Everything, all the intimate details. Her college crushes. Ben.
She used me to get details about Ben. Then she sent me down there to be kidnapped by those men, to force Ben to hand over that file. I fell for her lies—and now my baby is in danger. Oh, Joshua! Mommy’s so sorry.
Nikki was all Joshua had. Mom had always been there to help, but Nikki’s son was her responsibility. He depended on her for security, for protection. And she’d let him down.
Well, I’m going to get him back if I have to tear her into little, tiny pieces to do it.
Her teeth set together, Nikki jogged to the building’s rear door. Inside, she found herself in a stairwell. The slamming of the door echoed upward, a hollow sound that drifted to the unseen floors above her. Room 511, the agent had said. She hadn’t stopped to count the rows of windows, but the building couldn’t be much taller than five floors. She started to climb.
On the third floor, she realized she was sweating, both from the heat and the stress of what lay ahead. How would she get Joshua away from Allison? Could she lure her into the hallway, knock her out with a heavy object?
Nikki shed the coat and scarf. They were slowing her down. She draped them over the handrail, and continued her upward trek.
Ben dashed to the limousine. In the front seat, the driver bent over to fiddle with the controls on the radio. Ben ignored him and jerked open the rear door. His stomach plummeted to his feet.
Nikki was not inside.
The front window slid down. “Are you looking for the young lady, sir?”
Ben whirled toward the driver. “Yes. Did you see where she went?”
Even as he asked the question, Ben knew the answer. There was only one place she would go.
The driver pointed at the hotel. “She went over to the hotel a minute ago, around the back. Seemed in a hurry. I figured she had to use the…uh, you know. Facilities.”
Ben wanted to shout at the man, to ask why he’d let her go. Then he realized—the driver had no idea what was going on here. He was probably a local chauffeur, hired by the senator’s staff to meet the jet at the airport and cart the important politician around town. If he’d been a driver for any length of time, he was used to minding his own business and not asking questions.
Ben plastered what he hoped was a casual smile on his face. “All right. Thanks. I think I’ll go find her.”
“Yes, sir.” The window swept upward.
Ben glanced at the dark-suited FBI agents behind him. Five or six stood in a small group, talking and throwing surreptitious glances at the senator, who still held the cell phone up to his ear. Farmer and Bentley both stood nearby, their backs to Ben. The agent at the far corner of the building kept watch on the hotel entrance.
Ben walked casually out of view, in the direction of the hedge separating the restaurant from the hotel. He wasn’t about to stand here and let Nikki face a kidnapper alone. If anyone tried to stop him, they’d have a fight on their hands.
TWENTY-THREE
On the top floor, Nikki peeked through the narrow window in a heavy door marked with a large black five. She saw no movement, nothing but an elevator. Moving quietly, she slipped inside and paused to get her bearings.
She stood in the center of a hallway, in a wide alcove. A set of elevator doors faced her. Thin maroon carpet covered the floor and matched the narrow stripes on the wallpaper. A faint musty odor spoke of the hotel’s age, or perhaps the inattentiveness of the cleaning staff. A sign on the wall beside her indicated the numbers of the rooms to the left and right. She turned left and crept down the hall.
A noise sent her stomach leaping into her throat. She jerked to a halt, then identified the source. Behind her, in the opposite direction, an opening in the wall led to a vending area. The noise she’d heard was the tumble of ice inside an ice machine. Willing her pulse to slow, she continued.
Room 511 lay midway down the corridor, on the left. Nik
ki leaned against the wall beside it. How could she get in that room? No way could she break down the door. She wasn’t nearly strong enough. Besides, Allison had probably bolted it. Could she trick her way in? This hotel wasn’t the caliber to have room service. Besides, anyone who’d ever watched television would recognize that ploy.
Nikki had no ideas, no options. There was only one thing to do. She had to reason with her son’s kidnapper.
She stepped up to the door and banged on it with her fist. “Allison, it’s me. Open this door.” No response.
She pounded again. “Allison, open up this instant. I want my son.”
“Nikki?” Allison’s voice, muffled through the thick wood. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“Never mind that. I’m here to get Joshua. Open up.”
A moan. “Oh, no. They’ve found me, haven’t they? The police.”
Nikki laid her ear to the door. Allison sounded upset, near tears. That could work to her advantage. Maybe she could scare her into giving up. “Yes, they’ve found you. There are FBI agents all over the place.”
“Nooooo.” A definite sob. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Then open the door. Give me Joshua and maybe they’ll go easy on you.”
“Are you alone?”
Hope swelled in her chest. She was going to get inside. “I am. I promise. Everyone else is outside.”
Another sob, and then a sound. The dead bolt slid open. Nikki backed up and raised her hands in front of her. The moment that door cracked open, she’d rush it, smash it into Allison and overpower her while she was still dazed from the attack.
But what if she’s carrying Joshua? I might hurt him.
She let her hands drop.
The door opened a crack, just barely, and then several seconds passed before she heard Allison’s voice from farther inside the room.
“You can come in.”
Moving with caution, Nikki laid her palm on the door and pushed it open. Slowly.
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