Matt grabbed her with his good hand and pulled her aside as Beck and the others waved and left. She held up a hand to stop the reprimand she knew was coming. “I know what you’re going to say, but you deserved to be up here with me and—”
He kissed her, shutting her up.
When he broke it off and they both came up for air, he said, “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, Taylor Sinclair.”
Inside his pocket, his phone rang—he’d turned off the ringer, but Taylor had heard it buzzing manically during the press conference.
“Matt, I meant every word of what I said. You’re as good as any agent I’ve ever worked with. I really do wish you were on my cold case team.”
His phone continued to buzz. “That means a lot to me.”
“You better answer that,” she said, pointing to his pocket. “It’s probably the morning show calling to get an interview for tomorrow. Mad Dog Stephens, ace investigator, does it again!”
“Yeah, right.” He pulled her closer. “I have better things to do with my time tomorrow morning.”
The buzzing stopped, the call going to voicemail. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” she teased.
“Like making you breakfast.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Holding hands, they left the conference room and found Beck loitering in the hall.
“LuAnna at the front desk asked me to give you a message to clear out your voicemail,” he said. “Apparently, a woman called for you but it’s full. She asked specifically for you and said it had to do with one of your cold cases, but wouldn’t leave a message with LuAnna. I guess they’ll be coming out of the walls now, huh?”
“I better clear out my inbox,” she said to Matt, dropping a kiss on him.
He released her hand. “Dinner tonight? I can bring it here if you need to work late.”
Yes, indeed, I am so, so lucky. “I’ll be at your place by seven.”
He grinned. “Deal.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
They started toward the front entrance and Matt checked his own voicemail. He pulled up in mid-stride, his face suddenly going pale.
“What is it?” Taylor asked.
He slowly took the phone away from his ear, incredulousness on his face. “You’re not going to believe this, Taylor. I think we just found your sister.”
* * *
“511!” Heart slamming, Taylor jabbed her finger against the Mustang’s passenger side window. “That’s the house. The message said 511.”
Before Matt could park at the curb, Taylor swung the door open and hopped out, starting to run and then stopping.
What if…?
What if Izzy was actually inside that house?
If the caller was fucking with her, phoning in a bogus tip on Izzy’s location—God knew they’d had plenty of those—Taylor might break her FBI oath of office and murder someone.
“Taylor, wait.”
Matt grabbed hold of her, spinning her back, but nuh-uh. No way. She whipped her arm free. “No, Matt. I’m going.”
“Backup is on the way. You don’t know what we’re walking into.”
True. All the message had said was that the woman was Isabelle Sinclair. Then the line had gone dead, as if the caller had been interrupted. The caller ID was a cell phone. Registered to this address. This rundown, two-story house where the weeds choked out any possibility of vibrant flowers or healthy life.
Tears stung Taylor’s eyes. Could her sister be living in this dump? After the safety and comfort of their parents’ home? A fresh bout of rage flashed through her and she squeezed her fingers into a tight ball. “Oh, Matt. If it’s her…”
The front door of the house flew open and a woman with mousy, long, blond hair—her—stood on the inside of a storm door, alternately kicking at the glass and banging on it.
Taylor launched into a dead run.
Her feet pounded the sidewalk, feeling like hundred pound weights. Get to her! It felt like one of those dreams where your feet were caught in quicksand.
Her heel—damned shoes—caught in the dirt and Matt overtook her, sailing by and taking the rickety porch steps two at a time.
The woman smacked her hands against the Plexiglass and Matt yanked on the door as Taylor finally got free and sprinted up the steps behind him.
Inside, the woman pointed furiously. “Padlocked!” she cried.
And Taylor stood there, stock still, frozen as she stared into the same big green eyes as her own. As their mother. “Izzy!”
“I can’t get out!”
Taylor elbowed in front of Matt and kicked at the glass. “The son of a bitch locked her in.”
“Move,” Matt said, shoving her sideways. He poked at the door, pointing at Izzy. “Back up. I’m gonna kick it in.”
Izzy did as she was told, taking cover beside the door and Matt lifted his foot—boom! The full-length glass shattered, sending shards of tiny plastic ice picks flying inward and leaving a giant opening for them to step through.
Or for her sister to step out of.
Izzy, too skinny and dressed in torn jeans and a ratty, stained T-shirt, flew through the opening and drew up short as Taylor stared in disbelief. “TayTay?”
Hearing Isabel’s voice, the familiar childhood nickname on her tongue, was bittersweet. Taylor’s knees went weak for a second, and then she swept Isabel up in a bear hug.
They’d found her.
Finally!
The relief was almost too much.
Taylor had solved another cold case. The biggest of her career.
As two police cars arrived on the scene, sirens and lights going, Isabel returned the hug with force as the two sisters cried out loud. Then Taylor drew Isabel away, allowing Matt and the police officers to invade the house.
On the sidewalk, Taylor held Isabel at arms’ length to look her over. “My God, I can’t believe it’s you. Are you all right, Iz?”
Isabel’s response was to hug her again and Taylor laughed through her tears as her sister said, “Never better.”
They stayed like that for a long couple of minutes. As the sounds of Isabel’s captor being arrested echoed from the house, Taylor pulled her sister farther from the house.
There was so much to say. Too much. Where should she start?
Mostly, she had to keep staring at Isabel, touching her, afraid she might disappear on her again. Isabel didn’t seem to mind, keeping her own hands locked on Taylor’s arm as well.
Izzy’s captor, Gordon Mullins, was escorted from the house as an ambulance arrived and Izzy huddled behind Taylor. Hiding. “That’s him. He was drunk and passed out. I was watching TV. He lets me watch soap operas. That’s it. But there was a special news report and they cut to you talking at the microphone.”
“The press conference.”
Izzy shrugged. “I guess.”
Could her fully-grown sister not know what a press conference was? The weight of that, the knowledge that Taylor had gone on with her education, with her life, while her sister…what? She gazed up at the rundown house, imagined the atrocities. Imagined her sister stuck in time and not experiencing school, dating, and falling in love. A wave of guilt cinched Taylor’s lungs.
“I snuck his cell phone into a bedroom closet and called the FBI. A woman patched me through to your voicemail, but it wouldn’t let me leave a message. I looked up Matt. He has his cell number on his office website.”
And thank goodness he did.
“Izzy,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Ma’am,” one of the EMTs said to Izzy, “we need to get a look at you.”
“Ma’am?” Izzy repeated. “No one has ever called me that.”
Taylor turned Izzy over to the EMTs, watching her until Matt came out and motioned her toward him.
Isabel was hardly a model patient, arguing with the female EMT trying to take her blood pressure and ordering the male paramedic to move out of her line of sight—she didn’t want to lose Taylor in the
crowd.
Matt told Taylor to stay with her while he answered the lead officer’s questions. Isabel sat wrapped in a blue blanket inside an ambulance, the whirling red and blue lights of police cruisers blocking the residential street in front of Mullins’ house not more than five miles from their childhood home. A haunted look chased through her eyes as Taylor sat close and Isabel told her what had happened.
“I saw you on the news before today,” Izzy said softly, after explaining what her life with Mullins had been like. “I thought it was you, but until today, I just… I didn’t have the courage to call. My brain is…a mess. I wasn’t sure anymore if the memories I had of us as kids were even real.”
Taylor reached across the expanse between them and patted Izzy’s hand. Her sister had been held captive for a long time, and according to what she told Taylor, Mullins had brainwashed her into believing she was his child. He’d homeschooled her, moved her to six different places over the course of the past nineteen years, and had never let her out of the house. Even as an adult, she’d been a prisoner in the man’s delusional life.
Until today.
Isabel had still clung to the memories of her earlier life with her real family. Hearing Taylor’s story at the press conference had been the impetus to break free and reach out.
“You’re safe now,” Taylor said, one arm around her. “We’ll take things slow. I’ll call Mom and Dad, and we’ll get you settled.”
“Where will I stay?”
“You can stay with me. For as long as you want.”
A police detective approached. “We’re good here, Agent Sinclair. You and your team are welcome to go over the scene, if you like. I’ll need a formal statement from your sister as soon as possible.”
Izzy’s gaze came up. “Can we do it now?”
Taylor recognized the determination burning in Isabel’s eyes. “If you want to, absolutely.” She turned to the officer. “We’ll meet you at the station as soon as I have a doctor look her over.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” Isabel said. “I want to give my statement and then I want to go home. With you.”
Matt sauntered up, leaning on the open door. “Is there anything from inside that you want, Isabel? Clothes, shoes, personal stuff?”
“No.” Izzy shook her head. “I don’t ever want to go inside that house again.”
Taylor was so going to enjoy prosecuting Gordon Mullins. “You can borrow some of my clothes, and when you’re up for it, we’ll go shopping, okay?”
Isabel swallowed hard and nodded. Her gaze bounced to the police officer, then to Matt. “He can’t get out of jail and come after me, can he?”
The detective shook his head. “He’s never going to bother you again, Isabel. You have my word.”
“And mine,” Matt said.
Isabel gripped Taylor’s hand.
“Ditto,” Taylor said. “I’m a badass FBI agent, little sister. Your kidnapper is going to spend the rest of his life in prison.”
For the briefest of heartbeats, Isabel’s lips trembled before she took a deep breath and let out the sigh of the century. “I’ve missed you.”
Tears burned in Taylor’s eyes, and she drew Isabel into a hug. One of many she was going to shower her sister with. “God, I’ve missed you, too, Iz.”
“If you’re not going to the hospital,” Matt said, “how about we pick up some Thai from my favorite food truck up the road? You look like you could use some decent food, Isabel.”
That was an understatement. Food, clothes, her real family…Isabel needed it all.
A tiny smile lighted on Izzy’s face. She threw off the blanket and walked to the ambulance doorway. “I’ve never had Thai food. What’s it like?”
Matt helped her down. “Be prepared to be amazed.”
“And probably poisoned,” Taylor added, allowing Matt to help her down as well. They sandwiched her between them, guiding Isabel to Matt’s car.
The detective, following, snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.” He waved and headed toward his cruiser. “I’ll see you folks at the station. Take your time.”
“Thank you,” Taylor called after him.
Time. All she’d ever wanted was to have more time with Isabel.
Now she did.
Matt tucked Isabel into the backseat, then caught Taylor and drew her to him. “I love a happy ending, don’t you?”
Happy endings and Mad Dog Stephens—now there was an anomaly. “Thank you for this,” she said.
“For what?”
“Taking care of my little sister like you do me.”
He grinned, flashing those pretty eyes at her. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Agent Sinclair. This is just the start of all the happy endings we’re going to forge with our combined skills.”
Taylor’s pulse skipped. “I love you, Matt.”
“I love you, too.” He plunked a kiss on her nose and leaned in close to her ear. “And I still wanna be your stalker.”
Taylor laughed and Matt opened the door for her. She slid inside and watched as he went around the front to the driver’s side. Thank God he was as nutso as she was.
“He seems nice,” Isabel said from the backseat. “Not bad looking either. Those eyes…”
Killer. “Yep, you better get used to seeing him around.”
Her sister’s voice held a note of teasing. “He’s your boyfriend? Are you two serious?”
“Serious?” Matt climbed into his seat, adjusting his injured arm and starting the car. “Who’s serious?”
Taylor reached over and pinched his leg. “Yes, it’s serious,” she said to Isabel. “Matt and I are going to be partners for a long, long time.”
Dear reader,
Thank you for reading Missing Justice. We hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help others find it by sharing it with friends on social media and writing a review.
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Books in the Justice Team Series
Stealing Justice
Cheating Justice
Holiday Justice
Exposing Justice
Undercover Justice
Protecting Justice
Missing Justice
Romantic suspense and mysteries available by Adrienne Giordano:
The Private Protectors series
Risking Trust Relentless Pursuit
Man Law Opposing Forces
A Just Deception Negotiating Point (novella)
Harlequin Intrigue
The Prosecutor The Defender
The Marshal The Detective
The Rebel
Justifiable Cause series
The Chase (novella)
The Evasion (novella)
The Capture (novella)
The Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series
Dog Collar Crime
Dog Collar Knockoff
Dog Collar Limbo
Dog Collar Couture
Dog Collar Chaos
Casino Fortuna Series
Deadly Odds
Steele Ridge Series
Living Fast
Breaking Free
R
omantic suspense and mysteries available from Misty Evans:
The Super Agent Series
Operation Sheba Operation Paris
Proof of Life The Blood Code
The Perfect Hostage, A Super Agent Novella
The Deadly Series
Deadly Pursuit
Deadly Deception
Deadly Force
Deadly Intent
Deadly Affair
Deadly Attraction
SEALs of Shadow Force Series
Fatal Truth
Fatal Honor
Fatal Courage
Fatal Love
Fatal Vision (coming 2017)
The Secret Ingredient Culinary Mystery Series
The Secret Ingredient, A Culinary Romantic Mystery with Bonus Recipes
Missing Justice (The Justice Team Book 7) Page 26