by Irene Hannon
The tabloid had rerun the photo of Rachel it had used the previous week, and picked up photos of Rebecca and Megan O'Neil from AP and official press releases.
Nick's lips settled into a grim line. "That reporter must be stalking Rachel again" The speculative item in the Tribune on Wednesday about the discovery of the doll had been marginal journalism, as far as he was concerned. But this was worse.
"I've already had a call from the Post. Also the local Fox affiliate. I expect I'll get more:"
Nick bit back a word that wasn't pretty. If the kidnapper was still in town, the odds were decent she wouldn't be a St. Louis Scene reader, given the paper's limited circulation. But if major papers and TV stations began to pick up on this, the news would spread. And if the kidnapper bought into the telepathic mumbo jumbo, she wouldn't be too happy about a psychic sleuth on her trail. Things could get dicey.
"What's the plan?" His question came out terse.
"I'm on my way to see Marty. Want to come along?"
"Yeah:" Nick set his untouched coffee on the counter. A lot of SACs were political figureheads who spent their days attending meetings. Not Marty. In this kind of high-profile case, he'd make the final call on press dealings-after conferring with the Chicago office. But Nick had a vested interest in the decision and he wanted in on the discussion.
Trailing Ellen down the hall, he speed-read the article. For the most part it was a recap of the case, culled from previous stories in other papers and press releases. Very little new information had been added, other than the connection between Rebecca, Rachel, and the doll. But that complicated things.
A lot.
At best, Ellen and her cohorts would find a way to make the disclosure work to the FBI's advantage.
At worst, it could put an innocent woman in jeopardy.
And the latter possibility made his blood run cold.
Ten minutes later, after listening to Ellen's update, Marty Holtzman pushed back from his orderly, uncluttered desk, moved to the window, and stared through the glass. Nick knew he'd been a top field agent in his heyday, and he remained lean and wiry, still moving with the panther-like grace of a born athlete. When he swung toward them, a beam of afternoon sun silvered his short gray hair. "What's your recommendation, Ellen?"
"We could hold our `no comment' position, but it might be to our advantage to provide some additional information. I talked with Shaun Watson, the media rep for the Chicago office, and since the Tribune piece ran Wednesday, they've been getting queries too'
Nick understood the rationale for Ellen's suggestion. The strategic release of information to the media often resulted in tips. Most were useless. But sometimes all it took was one good lead to crack a case. The problem was, they had little new data to share.
"What would we say?" Nick interjected. "We don't have any news. Our questioning of Bread Company staff didn't turn up anything helpful. All we have is a doll:"
"On the contrary," Ellen disagreed. "We have a great human interest angle. Rebecca and Rachel are identical twins. They were separated at birth, and the doll Rachel found belonged to her as an infant. That's pretty powerful stuff. The media will love it"
"I doubt Rebecca and Rachel will:" Nick tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. "And that connection isn't relevant to the case. It hasn't contributed anything to our investigation:"
"True, Ellen conceded. "But my main goal is to get the story back in the headlines. Flush out some new leads:"
"It could also spook the kidnapper." Marty sat back in his chair and folded his arms on his desk. "If Megan O'Neil is still alive and we turn up the heat publicly, our kidnapper could decide the baby is no longer worth the risk"
"But if this is positioned correctly, it could have the opposite effect:" Nick mentally worked through an approach that would reduce the risk to Megan-and Rachel. "Let's assume our kidnapper has heard about the psychic angle. If she's gullible, she may have bought into it. We could use the press conference to shift the focus from psychic abilities to twin telepathy-and make it clear the latter doesn't extend to nieces. That should relieve our kidnapper's mind on that score. And an implication that the active investigation is waning should calm her down too. But it wouldn't stop tips, which is what we're after"
"I agree." Marty looked at Ellen. "You okay with that approach?"
"It was more or less what Shaun and I had in mind"
"Okay. Let me run this by the SAC in Chicago and headquarters. Nick, get in touch with Rebecca O'Neil and Rachel Sutton. Alert them to the Scene article and make sure we have contact numbers for them 24/7 for the weekend. I'll call you both later."
As Marty picked up his phone, Nick stood, stepping aside to let Ellen precede him into the hall.
"Considering the calls I've already had, you might want to give the two sisters a heads-up ASAP," Ellen suggested.
"Any advice you want me to pass on?"
"Tell them to stick with `no comment' until we have a firm game plan. Hopefully by end of day." With a wave, she headed back to her office.
Returning to his cube, Nick checked his watch. Rachel was still in class, so he left a message on her cell and rang Rebecca. After briefing her on the latest news story, he relayed Ellen's advice and promised to call as soon as they had a firm plan.
By the time that conversation ended, his message light was blinking. Rachel, he assumed. After tapping in her number, he wasn't surprised when she answered on the first ring.
"Nick? Is everything okay?"
The anxiety in her voice tugged at his gut. He hated to be the bearer of bad news. But she'd find out about the article anyway, and he'd rather she heard about it from him. "I wanted to warn you that we've caught the attention of St. Louis Scene again."
"Tell me you're kidding:" Dismay flattened her words.
"I wish I was. I'm speculating your friendly reporter saw the Tribune article, made the connection to the doll, and decided you were still newsworthy. I don't know if she's been following you or just decided to pay you a visit and got lucky on her timing, but she's aware that you, me, and Rebecca met at your house on Wednesday night. She implied in her piece that the FBI is pursuing a psychic lead on the O'Neil kidnapping"
"But that's a lie!"
"We're talking about St. Louis Scene here, Rachel:"
She gave a frustrated sigh. "What happens now?"
"We're working on a game plan. Until it's implemented, I'd suggest you lay low. Stick with `no comment' if the press contacts you'
"What about the people who want me to communicate with their dead uncle? Or find their missing dog? This will bring a whole new batch of them out of the woodwork"
"Let your phone roll to the answering machine."
"Trust me, I will:" She huffed out another breath. "You know, I'm beginning to think this Scene reporter Claudia has psychic abilities of her own. Or is very, very lucky."
"I agree. But we should have a plan later today to counter her claim. Will you be home tonight? I could stop by and put Rebecca on speaker so we can all discuss it"
"I'll be here. But I can think of better ways to spend a Friday night."
He chuckled. "Me too. And we'll get to those once this is over. In the meantime, how about I bring over a pizza?"
"That sounds nice and normal. You're on. You know, I'm very quickly learning that I don't have the temperament for cloakand-dagger stuff. My taste runs to safer things-like art and teaching and playing the piano. Oh-speaking of taste ... no olives on the pizza, okay?"
"No olives. Check. I'll call you before I leave the office to let you know I'm on my way. It could be a little later than usual. And Rachel ... go straight home, okay?" He reread the headline in the Scene article, fighting down a feeling of unease.
"Why? Do you think some nut might try to corner me in the grocery store for a seance?"
"I'd prefer not to take any chances. Just be a little careful until we implement the plan. You have my cell number ... call me if you spot anything suspicious"
&n
bsp; "Now I know I'm not cut out for cloak-and-dagger stuff." She tried for a joking tone but didn't pull it off.
"Everything will be fine, Rachel. We've got it under control:"
"Okay." She still sounded shook up. "See you soon"
As the line went dead, Nick wished he felt as confident as he'd sounded when he'd reassured her. But he'd been in the business a long time. And he knew even the best-laid plans sometimes went awry. While he was certain the strategy Ellen and her cohorts devised would be sound, there were never any guarantees.
If he thought it would do any good to request protection for Rachel, he'd ask. But the FBI didn't have sufficient staff for that. No law enforcement agency did. Only VIPs and witnesses merited security, and the U.S. Marshals Service usually handled that.
All he could do was try his best to keep Rachel safe until the risk went away.
And until Ellen and her cohorts came up with a plan that would put to rest the psychic drivel perpetuated by St. Louis Scene and reassure the kidnapper that Rachel wasn't a threat, he intended to stick close.
"Hi, Ms. Kraus:" Marsha flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, set aside the newspaper she was reading, and gave Debra a bright smile. "You're early today. Getting a head start on the weekend?"
"Yes" In truth, Debra had left work at three on the premise of a dental appointment. Since her run-in with Warren yesterday, she'd been feeling jittery. And her nightmare-plagued slumber hadn't helped. In her dreams, she'd kept waking up to find her baby's crib empty. She'd finally risen before dawn to sit in the rocking chair beside her daughter's bed and watch her sleep. Only that gave her some semblance of peace.
This morning, she'd been tempted to call in sick. But she was loathe to change her routine or do anything that would attract attention. She'd worked with enough legal briefs to know that out-of-pattern behavior was a red flag. So she'd left Danielle at daycare as usual, even though it had been agony dropping her off, and gone into work. By mid-afternoon, however, the need to hold her daughter in her arms had overpowered the need to maintain a normal schedule.
"Good for you. I wish I could cut out early once in a while on Friday." Marsha slid off her stool at the front desk. "I'll go get Danielle. Have a seat for a minute. Oh, and take a look at this while you wait:' She handed over the paper she'd been reading. "Remember that article we talked about last week? The one about the psychic? Looks like there was something to it, after all. Pretty weird, if you ask me:"
As Marsha punched numbers into the security keypad on the wall behind the desk and disappeared through the door, Debra read the headline. And almost threw up.
All her conclusions about last week's article had been wrong.
The FBI hadn't written Rachel Sutton off as a nut. The woman had had specific information. And she'd led them to Rebecca O'Neil.
Megan's mother.
Hands trembling, Debra scanned the article. It didn't say much more than the headline. But those few facts were plenty.
Except the reporter had left out one important piece of data.
Megan O'Neil had ceased to exist two months ago, the day Danielle-her daughter-had taken the other infant's place.
It was too bad for the mother that Megan was gone. Debra could empathize with her, could understand her sense of loss. But she had another daughter. Bridget. Why couldn't she be satisfied with that?
She probably would have been, if it hadn't been for Rachel Sutton. Debra scowled at the photo of the woman at the piano. If this Rachel had picked up vibes from the doll, if she'd led the police to Rebecca, what other information might she discern now that the women had met and talked? Would she be able to tune into some wavelength that could lead the authorities to her and Danielle?
Debra's first instinct was to grab her daughter, get in her car, and take off. Disappear.
Except ... maybe it wasn't possible to vanish if a psychic was involved. Maybe this Rachel would be able to pick up vibes no matter where she and Danielle went.
The contingency plan she'd developed after her encounter with Warren flashed through her mind. It was a drastic step, though. Not one she'd expected-or wanted-to take.
But nothing was more important than protecting the life she'd created for herself and Danielle.
Nothing.
"Here she is, Ms. Kraus." Marsha pulled up the hood on Danielle's snowsuit as she stepped through the door. "We want to stay warm, don't we, sweetie? The weatherman says we're going to have a cold, cold weekend. We wouldn't want Jack Frost to get you, would we?" She tapped the baby's nose, and Danielle giggled as Marsha shifted her into Debra's waiting arms. "Here you go, Mommy. Such a cutie. She must be lots of fun"
"Yes, she is"
And that wasn't going to change.
Debra headed toward her car, shielding her baby from the gusty, frigid air. After settling Danielle in her car seat, Debra handed her the teddy bear her daughter had come to love. A replacement for the doll that had caused far too many problems.
She should have listened to her instincts and gotten rid of the Raggedy Ann in Chicago, tears or no tears from her daughter. But she couldn't change the past. All she could do was protect her future.
By getting rid of something else instead.
Three hours later, Nick took a seat at a right angle to Rachel and set his BlackBerry on her dining room table. "Rebecca? I'm here with Rachel. You're on speaker"
"Hi, Rachel:" Rebecca's voice came over the line. "Did you guys eat your pizza yet?"
Nick arched an eyebrow at Rachel.
"I talked to her after I talked to you," Rachel whispered, then raised her voice. "Not yet, Rebecca. We thought we'd get the business stuff out of the way first"
"Then let's get started. Nick, Colin's here with me, like you asked"
"Good" Nick folded his hands on the table. "The St. Louis and Chicago offices have worked together to come up with a plan we hope will generate some renewed interest in the case. But it all depends on how willing you and Rachel are to share personal information with the media"
"What kind of information?" Rachel asked.
"The discovery that you're identical twins. Your thirty-five year separation. And how the doll led you to each other"
"I'm willing to do anything that will help us find Megan," Rebecca responded. "But I don't see how going public with the twin thing would do that."
"According to our media relations experts, this kind of story has great human interest value and will get wide play. It will remind people of the case, and perhaps encourage anyone who has new information to come forward. As Matt Carson has told you, we've exhausted all our leads. We need to generate some new information. Plus, we feel it's important to publicly counter the psychic claims made by St. Louis Scene."
"Do you think anyone believes those?" The skeptical question came from Colin.
"Most people won't. And if the coverage was confined to that tabloid, we wouldn't be too concerned. But today's story generated local media queries, and we expect interest to ripple. We need to quash any speculation on that score" He looked at Rachel. He hated to alarm her, but forewarned was forearmed. "For safety reasons"
She stared back at him as Rebecca spoke. Her sister's words were slow and deliberate. "You're worried the kidnapper might consider Rachel a threat" It was a comment, not a question, and the concern in her voice matched that on Rachel's face.
"It's possible. Kidnappers aren't always the most rational people."
Rachel folded her hands into a tight knot on the table but remained silent.
"Then we need to go public with our story. Set the media straight on why Rachel had the feelings she did. Let them focus on the twin telepathy thing rather than the psychic detective angle, Rebecca declared.
"I agree, Colin added.
"Rachel?" Nick reached over and covered her cold hands with his.
"I'll vote with the majority."
"So what's the plan?" Colin asked.
"A press conference Monday morning, with everyone i
n attendance. We'd like this to hit the Tuesday papers. That's often a slow news day, and we could get front-page coverage in a lot of cities. We'd prefer to do it here, because this is where the doll was found and that's our most recent lead. Can you manage that, Rebecca?"
"I'll take Monday off and we'll drive down late Sunday afternoon," Colin replied.
"Rachel, can you get the morning off ?" Nick asked.
"Yes. I'll work it out"
"Okay. We'll have a briefing at our office at eight-thirty, hold the press conference at ten. Our SAC will handle the formal remarks, then we'll open it to questions. We can go over talking points in our pre-press conference meeting:"
"Does this kind of thing usually generate leads that help?"
Nick heard the glimmer of hope in Rebecca's question and tried to be honest without raising false expectations. "It can. Sometimes all it takes to solve a case is one strong lead"
"That's good to know" Rebecca stopped, cleared her throat. "Now go eat your pizza. We've already had dinner. And be careful, Rach."
"I will. See you Monday."
The line went dead, and Nick released Rachel's hands to turn off the speaker. As he moved his suit jacket aside to slip the BlackBerry into its holder, Rachel's gaze dropped to the Glock on his belt.
She swallowed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'll get the pizza:"
As she started to rise, he caught her cold fingers in his hand again. "It's going to be okay, Rachel. Don't worry."
The whisper of a smile tugged at her lips. "Am I that transparent?"
"No. But you told me yourself you're not into cloak-anddagger stuff. I know this is stressful for you"
"More so for Rebecca and Colin. We need to find Megan, Nick. If sitting through one press conference and watching my back for a few days will help make that happen, I can deal with it:"
"You sit through the press conference. I'll take care of watching your back. And other things:" He grinned and winked. "As a matter of fact, I was hoping you'd let me hang around a lot over the weekend."
She gave him an uncertain smile. "I thought you wanted to keep your distance until the case was over, except for official business"