by CJ Lyons
She didn't meet his gaze but he got her meaning when she slid him the three by five photo. It was a head shot, the kind you see on dating sites or used by actresses. The girl in it was in her early twenties, dark hair, a wide, toothy smile that reminded him of Julia Roberts.
He admired Guardino's pragmatism and the fact that it didn't totally crowd out her humanity. And it felt good that she trusted him not to betray her confidence. He had a feeling her attitude of putting victims first didn't always go over so well here in federal country where the name of the game was cover your ass. "I'll keep my eye out. See what I can do. Unofficially."
She nodded her thanks. "I've done all I can through our channels, but no one at HQ wants her brought in, too many mistakes might be made public." She glanced out the glass walls of her office. Several men and women were clustered around a desk brimming over with computer equipment. "Well hell, what's going on now?"
Lucy stepped out of her office just in time to prevent a civil war.
Or more precisely a public lynching. The bullpen—a large open room filled with moveable desks and workstations—was currently configured into a horseshoe centering around Taylor's desk, brimming over with computer equipment. Standing beside Taylor was Fletcher, the ICE surveillance tech. Surrounding him was the rest of the High Tech Computer Crimes Task Force.
"You can't disconnect from the write-blocker while you're running EnCase," Taylor was saying.
"Besides," another H-Tech member lectured Fletcher, "we only work from images, clones, not the original. What were you thinking?"
The rest of the cyber-warriors voiced similar sentiments. Fletcher was turning red, holding his hands up against the hoards attacking him.
Lucy stepped into the fray. "What's the problem, gentlemen?"
The H-Tech team backed off, leaving her facing Taylor and Fletcher. Taylor slanted a look and a scowl at Fletcher, then shook his head. "Nothing, LT. I've got everything under control."
She had her doubts about that, but let it slide.
"I appreciate your trying to help," she told Fletcher, leading him away from the nest of wires and electronics that had overrun Taylor's desk.
He looked back over his shoulder with a tight-lipped frown.
"I was setting up for tomorrow and they said you needed help with the Ashley Yeager case." His voice was taut and she wondered what she'd missed prior to her arrival.
Lucy nodded to Burroughs. "I'll be back in a minute."
She led Fletcher to his workstation. She and her team were the lead on Operation Honeypot but since ICE would be involved in the post-arrest negotiations with the Canadian authorities, the ICE Special Agent in Charge, Grimwald, had wanted his people involved throughout.
So far, Fletcher had been an asset, even if he was a bit eager. Agent-wannabee, she'd pegged him as, the way he hovered and volunteered for any little assignment during their briefings. Just like Taylor had been before he made it into Quantico.
"It was nice of you to give up your weekend. Especially after working so hard this morning."
He shrugged and inclined his head in a self-deprecating bounce. "I felt bad about the girl. Just wanted to help. I didn't realize you guys follow a different protocol than we do."
"Hey, no problem. Listen, we need to get started early tomorrow on Operation Honeypot. Why don't you head home, spend some time with your family?"
"I'll finish setting up the equipment first. My family knows how important my job is. Sometimes there's a price to pay."
Lucy bit back a sigh as a sudden image of Megan, her face flushed with fever, dashed through her mind. "Yeah, there's always a price. I'll see you tomorrow."
Taylor came up behind them. "Hey, LT," he said. "Fletcher said you forgot these on your op this morning."
She turned as he released a cascade of rubber snakes from a pressurized can. She yelped and batted the things away, realizing too late that the rest of the squad had gathered around.
Everyone laughed except Burroughs, who looked puzzled. Lucy joined in on the laughter as well. "Okay, you guys. You got me good."
Walden came in, just in time to seen the aftermath of the joke. "Can I have your autograph?"
He handed her a printout of a still shot of Indiana Jones caught in the snake pit with a torch….only Lucy's photo replaced Harrison Ford's face beneath his fedora.
"I'm not going to live this down, am I?" Lucy said, thumbtacking the photo to the nearest corkboard. It was good to see Walden had a sense of humor, she'd been beginning to doubt that his expression ever shifted out of dour deadpan.
"I take it you had a run in with a snake?" Burroughs asked as she ushered him, Taylor, and Walden into her office.
"Told you, you should have taken me this morning," Taylor said, plopping onto one of the chairs at the conference table. "I'm not afraid of snakes."
"Neither am I—at least I wasn't until this morning."
As Walden drew a time line onto the white board and began to add all the points documenting Ashley's recent behavior, Taylor gleefully told Burroughs about the op at the snake handler's church. His version sounded much more exciting than the real thing had—and far less messy. Burroughs straddled a chair behind the conference table and pivoted to grin at Lucy.
"Gee, the glamorous life you feds lead. So were the twins molested? Or were the creeps really trying to save their souls?"
Walden paused in his writing. "Staties said they still aren't sure. The first forensic interview didn't get much from them except they missed their parents."
"It's out of our hands," Lucy said, bringing their focus back to Ashley. She remained standing, behind them, pacing the area between the table and her desk.
"She planned this," Taylor said, eagerly as if it was an original thought.
"With help," Burroughs added. "No way a girl her size could have gotten the waitress's body into that bin by herself."
"So there must be two," Walden said. "Either Ashley working with someone, or someone else coercing Ashley."
"Either way there had to be communication." Burroughs took the handoff. "What did you get from her cell phone?"
"Just the Fegley kid. And nothing from him in over a month. Only other calls were from her mother."
"So who has been talking with Ashley this past month?" For the first time Lucy spoke. She still didn't agree with their assessment, but she wanted to hear their thoughts without influencing them with her own opinions.
They looked at each other. "She has another cell," Walden suggested. "Bought herself a prepaid."
Trying on theories was like trying on new shoes and so far they all pinched Lucy's toes. Until now. Walden's suggestion felt right. "Untraceable."
She narrowed her eyes at the board. She didn't like committing to one line of investigation or one theory of the crime too early, but Ashley had been missing twenty-nine hours already. Statistics said if she were taken by a stranger or coerced by a predator, she'd be dead in less than forty-eight—actually, most were dead within three hours of an abduction, but Lucy refused to think that way.
How could they be this far into things and nothing still made sense?
"What about Tardiff?" she asked.
"Not in any registry, never charged with a crime," Walden supplied. Lucy leaned forward, hearing an implied "but" in his tone. "However, he has had several civil actions brought against him for improper supervision of a minor. All settled out of court, all sealed."
"Well hell." They all knew what "sealed and settled" was code for: guilty. She moved to the front of the room and a clear space at the board. Wrote Tardiff's name up high. "So we have one freaky-deaky involved—"
"But as far as we know he hasn't even been in town lately and hasn't had contact with Ashley," Taylor said.
"Then it's your job to track him down, verify his whereabouts. I don't want to wait for the New York office to get back to us."
Taylor nodded eagerly, his puppy-dog grin returning now that he had a new bone to play with. "I can cross ch
eck his calls with mom's, see if he's using an alternative cell, maybe we can track him that way."
"Just do it. I'm tired of hearing about this guy and not having any facts." She turned back to the board, wrote Ashley's name. Below it she added: victim? Willing accomplice? Coerced? Acting solo?
"I still say she couldn't do the Tastee Treet girl by herself," Walden said as she wrote the last.
"The chick was pretty skinny," Burroughs put in, obviously still liking the idea of Ashley as a do-er.
"So was Ashley," Walden argued.
Lucy tried to be objective. "Consider the force needed to hold someone face down into a vat of 400 degree boiling oil. They'll be fighting with everything they have and you have to hold them there for what—a minute or two?" She shook her head and crossed the solo item off their list. "I don't think so." Burroughs opened his mouth to protest and she pointed the marker at him. "Not unless your ME says otherwise. Why don't you follow up on that as well as check in with Monroeville, see if anything else popped during their canvas. Oh, and while you're at it, you can phone in your report to the mayor."
His mouth snapped shut. Did he really think she'd believe he was hovering so close to her because he liked how she filled out her sweater? She may be new to Pittsburgh, but she wasn't born yesterday.
He flashed her a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that. It's an election year."
"Not really interested in politics right now. I'm interested in facts. And we're pitifully short on them. Which brings us back to her computer."
All heads swiveled to stare at Taylor. He held up his hands, palms out, fingers splayed. "You guys need to understand, these things take time."
"Just tell me what you have so far." Before he could open his mouth, she added, "In English."
The light in Taylor's eyes dampened. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Lucy placed her weight on the table, leaning forward. "You and your geniuses have been at it all day."
"We have a lot of possibilities—we're analyzing every fragment we can isolate, I've a team working on tracking the scrubber program back to its source code, another one tracing her email and online activity. But there's nothing concrete, no solid leads." He hung his head. "I'm sorry, we need more time."
Lucy straightened, wrapping her arms around her chest, holding back from telling Taylor what they all knew. Ashley Yeager didn't have more time to spare.
Ashley was motionless. Jimmy would have thought she was asleep, except that her eyes were open. Staring into space, staring straight into his heart.
Pressure built behind his eyes. One finger stroked an eyebrow as he grew clammy with sweat. Was it time?
He crouched before the video monitor as if by getting closer to the screen he could get closer to Ashley. Only one chance to do this right. He glanced over at the large aquarium that sat on the floor beside the monitor.
Dozens of snakes coiled, slithering over top of each other, confined to an impossibly small space. Several raised their heads and stared at him with cold, reptilian eyes. Jimmy didn't like snakes. It had taken every ounce of courage and will power for him to collect them.
Ashley was even more terrified of them than he was. She'd told him about what her father had done to her, forcing her to handle anacondas and other snakes in front of crowds of visitors to the zoo when she was young. How he'd chided her for her fears, tried to "cure" her of them by making her handle the snakes until she'd broken down in terror during one of the shows and wet her pants.
Jimmy wished there was another way. He tapped the wall of the aquarium and the mass of snakes writhed as if it were a single creature. None were poisonous, of course not. But their effect on Ashley would be devastating.
The whole point. She had to break with her old life in order to join him in their new life together.
Only one chance. Was she ready?
The lilting sounds of his Piano Man ring tone jolted him. He checked the number. Alicia.
Ashley and step four would have to wait.
Family first.
Chapter 17
Saturday 10:41 pm
Melissa's footsteps echoed in the empty house. She was exhausted but couldn't sit still long enough to fall asleep. Her sister had arrived from Philadelphia, cooked them and the sheriff's deputies a huge meal, picked a fight about Melissa not eating, and then retired to the guest room while Melissa prowled the house, trying hard not to think. Finally Melissa ended up in Ashley's room.
Blissfully alone. It felt good after a day where strangers had dogged her every movement, where she had to play a role for the cameras and reporters, where her emotions repeatedly swamped her, dragging her down until she had nothing left.
She didn't turn the lights on. The bed sprawled, a ghostly white square in the middle of the room. Naked. The police had taken the sheets and covers. For what Melissa did not want to dwell on.
They had left Ashley's pillows. Melissa climbed onto the barren bed. The air conditioner cycled on, startling her with its chilly breath. She curled up into a fetal position.
She had no one else to hug, so she hugged herself, burrowing into the pillows, trying to escape.
The faint sound of a phone ringing propelled her from unconsciousness.
It was all a dream, was her first thought as her hand shot out, searching through empty air for the phone.
It wasn't there. She rolled over, eyes open now, realizing where she was. In Ashley's room. On Ashley's bed. Alone.
It wasn't a dream.
The phone rang again and her heart slammed into her throat as she leapt from the bed. How many times had it rung already? She ran down the hall to her room, her bare feet drumming against the hard wood in a frantic, primal rhythm.
"Don't hang up," she called out even though she knew the sheriff's people wouldn't let that happen. She lunged across her bed, snatching the receiver. "Hello?"
At first there was only silence. Melissa's chest heaved with adrenalin, her heart pounding so hard she couldn't swallow.
"Hello? Ashley? Is that you?" Her voice was sandpapery with unshed tears. "Speak to me. Ashley, where are you?"
More silence. Melissa's hand clenched the phone so tightly her fingers went numb. So did her lips and toes. During those few seconds her entire body became one impenetrable block of ice.
"We know your secret." A taunting, sing-song voice that wasn't Ashley's jolted through the air.
She leaned forward, elbows between her knees, fighting nausea. "Where's my daughter?" She couldn't feel her tears against the frozen tundra of her face, but she saw them as they splashed her robe, small, irregular dark splotches on the shiny silver fabric. "Please let me talk with her, I beg you. Please."
Laughter was her only answer.
"Allegheny County is relaying a call. It's coming from the kid's phone." Burroughs poked his head in from the bullpen as Lucy was talking to Ashley's English teacher.
"I'll have to get back to you, Mrs. Forrester." Lucy hung up and rushed out to where everyone gathered around Taylor's station.
"Where's my daughter?" Melissa Yeager's voice shrieked through the speakers.
"We know your secret," came a man's whisper. Followed by the sound of laughter. Then the click of a receiver being hung up.
"Too short to trace, but if they don't turn the phone off, we can get GPS," Taylor announced to everyone. He touched his Bluetooth earset. "I got it, thanks." His fingers tapped methodically on his keyboard for a moment before he swiveled to face the H-Tech team. "Okay guys, we've got the file. I want the voice analysis and background noise dissected like yesterday."
The computer guys broke up into smaller groups, chattering eagerly. A chance to get in on a real-life real-time possible kidnapping was much more exciting than playing with internet porn.
"Play it back for me," Lucy asked Taylor. "Burroughs, you get on the horn with Verizon and you don't hang up until they have coordinates for us. Walden, reach out to the mom, tell her we're working it, we'
ll let her know as soon, you know the drill."
Before she could say more, Melissa's voice filled the air once more, sounding tissue thin, shredded. A computer screen filled with jagged waves as she spoke. The entire conversation lasted only thirty-eight seconds.
"Sounds like a man," Taylor said.
"Play the laugh again," she directed. They both listened to the final seconds of the call. "That was more than one person. At least two, and one of them sounds like a woman."
"She's right, Taylor," one of the H-Tech volunteers called out from a nearby desk, one ear covered with a headphone. "Two people: a man and a woman. Stress analysis indicates possible intoxication."
Taylor grinned up at Lucy. "Wouldn't that be great? She's out getting high with her boyfriend, no worries? As soon as we nail down the GPS, we'll have her home safe and sound."
Except for the fact of the dead waitress lying on a slab in the ME's morgue. But Lucy didn't dampen his enthusiasm.
"Room the call originated from is approximately sixteen by twenty-two feet, wood floors, twelve foot high ceilings, several large windows along one wall," another tech called out. Lucy didn't ask how they figured that out, at this point, she didn't really care if it was science or magic.
Burroughs nodded to her from where he stood on the side of the room, away from the loudest of the chaos. He was writing something down, then hung up his phone. "Got it. The cells narrowed it to either 5514 or 5516 Broad Street, that's in Garfield."
"Garfield? Whose jurisdiction?" Lucy asked. Taylor popped a map of Pittsburgh on the large monitor in the front of the room, a flashing red square marking their quarry.
"Mine," Burroughs said with a satisfied grin.
"Call for a warrant," she told Walden as he rejoined them. "Burroughs, you contact your SWAT team, tell them I might need them within the hour. Taylor, I want to know everything about every person at those addresses. Names, criminal records, what they ate for breakfast. Call me with the results. Let's move."