by Lisa Harris
“We’re parked this direction,” Gwen said, stopping at one of the exit doors. “Take her home, Tyler. We’ll research Erika and call you as soon as we find out something.”
Nikki nodded as they left, thankful for their help but still feeling the need to find out for herself.
“Do you feel better now?” Tyler asked, taking her hand again. “You know Gwen. She’ll find the woman. She’s almost as good as you are at tracking down people.”
Nikki shot him a half smile at the compliment, grateful for how he’d become the calm in the middle of her storm. Something she needed right now. Knowing he was here with her, his hand wrapped firmly around hers … She drew in a slow breath, almost able to believe everything was right in the world again. She just needed a day or two to clear her mind, then she’d feel back on track again.
A second set of men in FBI coats and badges caught her eye as they passed them in the middle of the concourse. Nikki slowed down, her mind firing in a dozen different directions.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Tyler said.
“I know I should just let Gwen handle it, but if I spoke to the FBI—”
“Nikki—”
“Humor me.” She stopped to look up at him. “Okay?”
“I’m just thinking about you and what you need.” Tyler frowned, not looking convinced. “Not only did Gwen promise to try to find the woman for you, your parents are waiting to see you, and you need to rest—”
“And I will. All of those things. I promise. But first I want to speak to someone who might be able to give me answers.”
He let out a sharp sigh. “As long as you promise me you’ll get some rest when you’re done here.”
Nikki turned around and started jogging the other direction in order to catch up with the men.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping up in front of one of them and holding up her badge, hoping it would get her the information she was looking for. “I’m Special Agent Nikki Boyd with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.”
“TBI?” The taller of the two glanced at her badge before pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m Agent Sam Brinkley, and my partner here is FBI Agent Mark Wells. And you’re here because …”
“I work with the state’s missing persons division.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Agent Wells, shorter and pudgier than his partner, shook his head. “We’re working with TBI on this investigation, but missing persons?”
She nodded, knowing she only had a few seconds to get to the point. “I was on the flight, and there was a woman sitting beside me who I haven’t been able to find, but who also isn’t on the flight manifest. I was hoping the FBI might have more information than the airline representative I spoke to.”
Brinkley glanced at his partner. “With regulations as tight as they are after 9/11, manifests are checked and double-checked to ensure an accurate count before any plane leaves the terminal. Mistakes by the airline are rare.”
“So I’ve already been told.” Nikki dug the watch she’d found on the plane out of her pocket. “But I have evidence she was on the plane. She was wearing this. She sat next to me. She was reading Love’s Fury, a romance she thought was dull—”
Agent Brinkley held up his hand. “Okay. I believe you, but I’m really not sure how we can help you. If you already looked at the flight manifest, it’s the exact same record I have right here. But even if there is an issue, it’s going to take us days to sort through all the data and information regarding this crash. We don’t even know why the plane went down at this point, let alone have accurate details on the passengers. But we will.”
“Then one more question,” Nikki said, knowing she was going to have to back off. “Did you know there was an air marshal on the flight?”
“Yes, but as far as I remember, Agent Boyd, TBI’s missing persons division doesn’t have jurisdiction in a commercial plane crash. So my suggestion to you would be for you to forget about the woman you supposedly spoke to on the plane, and let us do our job—”
“Was he on the flight with a passenger?” she pressed.
“Like I just said, your division doesn’t have jurisdiction in this situation.”
“Nikki.” Tyler pressed his fingers around her elbow. “I think you should let them go.”
Agent Brinkley shot her a tight-lipped smile. “It was nice to meet you, Agent Boyd.”
Nikki waited until they walked away, then turned to follow Tyler to his car.
“I wasn’t trying to interfere,” he said as they stepped outside into the late summer heat, “but they weren’t going to give you any information, even if they knew something.”
“I know.” She pressed her thumbs against her temples, trying to ease her headache. She knew how to handle trauma. Knew what was real and what wasn’t. But after everything that had happened today … “You think I should walk away and forget this.”
“Yes,” he said as they started across the crosswalk. “Though I know you well enough to realize you’re not going to do that. This is who you are.”
Tyler’s phone rang inside the short-term parking garage a few cars down from his pickup. He answered it, then handed it to her. “It’s your mom.”
“Nikki?”
A wave of relief flooded through Nikki at the sound of her mom’s voice. “Hey, Mom. I’m here and I’m okay.”
“Nikki. You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice. I saw the video of the crash on television—”
“I’m fine, Mom. Really. I’ve tried to get through to you, but my phone’s dead, and then when I tried to call on Tyler’s phone, it went to voice mail.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She could hear the relief in her mother’s voice. “We got your message, but you can’t imagine how many times I’ve tried to call. We’re stuck in traffic right now, and I’m not sure how soon we’re going to be able to get to the airport.”
“Why don’t you go back to the restaurant, then. I’m here with Tyler, and he’s promised to bring me by.”
“If you’re sure you’re okay …” There was a long pause on the line. “It’s just that the news is reporting there were fatalities, Nikki. I watched the video they keep playing over and over.”
Nikki stared at an oil spot on the parking garage floor, wishing they weren’t having this conversation. “I know there was at least one man who died in the crash, but I’m really fine, Mom. I was even checked out by a doctor. I’ve got a couple bruises, but that’s all.”
“Nikki …” She could hear the quiet sobs of her mother. “After losing Sarah … You know what it’s been like. If anything would have happened to you …”
Her mother didn’t have to say anything else for Nikki to know what she was thinking. Sarah had vanished ten years ago, and with her disappearance had come the heartache of never knowing what had happened to her younger sister. And that lack of resolution had brought with it its own never-ending grief.
“Nikki?”
“I’m still here, Mama.”
“I know this accident didn’t have anything to do with your job, but you don’t know how many times I wish you’d stuck with teaching. I just … I worry about you, Nikki. You’ve had too many close calls lately.”
Nikki squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could somehow magically take away her mom’s worry. Like all choices, her decision to become a cop came with a price tag. And her family had to pay part of the price.
“I know, Mom. And I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to be careful. I’ll tell your father to head back to the restaurant now, but promise you’ll get here as soon as you can. And in the meantime, I’ll let your brothers and Jamie know you’re okay.”
Nikki said goodbye before hanging up and giving the phone back to Tyler.
“Is she okay?”
“She will be. I know this is hard for her.”
He drew her into his arms, temporarily drowning out the n
oises of the busy garage surrounding them. And all of the worry that had settled inside her heart. They might still have things to talk about—the details that had to be figured out to make a relationship work—but when his arms were around her, that moment became the one moment when she knew everything was going to be okay.
“Agent Boyd?”
A man’s voice pulled her back to the present.
Nikki stepped out of Tyler’s embrace and turned around. It was the FBI agent she’d spoken with a few minutes ago. Brinkley. He’d stopped half a dozen feet away from her, a frown on his face. His jaw tense.
She glanced at Tyler, then back at the agent. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to need you to come with me.”
5
1:00 p.m.
Nikki followed two agents down a long hallway inside a secured section of the airport, wondering why Tyler hadn’t been allowed to come with them. And more importantly, why they wanted to talk with her.
“I need to know what’s going on,” she said, hurrying to keep up with them. Her nerves were already on edge. An interrogation by the FBI wasn’t exactly going to help.
Agent Brinkley glanced at his partner but didn’t slow down. “We’ll explain everything in a minute, but we’re going to need some privacy.”
She followed them inside an air-conditioned conference room set way too cold, containing nothing more than a long executive table, eight rolling chairs, a mini-fridge, and a handful of vintage airline photos lining the wall.
Agent Brinkley pulled out one of the chairs, offering her a seat, then leaned back against the edge of the table. Wells took the chair across from her.
Brinkley’s jaw tensed as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “I’ll get right to the point. We need your help.”
“You need my help?” Nikki pulled Tyler’s jacket closer around her as she looked from Brinkley to Wells, then back to Brinkley again. She was missing something. A request for help was the last thing she’d expected. The FBI had more resources than the TBI. Why in the world would they need her?
“Is this about Erika? Because so far everyone has nicely implied I need to go home and rest, because the woman wasn’t on that plane and in fact no one at all was sitting in 29B. She was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Isn’t that what the two of you are thinking?”
Brinkley splayed his hands on the table on either side of him and leaned forward. “We happen to know for a fact that Erika Hamilton was on the plane. And that she sat next to you.”
Nikki’s mouth dropped open at the news. “Then why wasn’t she on the flight manifest?”
“We were keeping close tabs on the flight and managed to step in and remove her name from the database immediately after the crash,” Wells said. “We knew there would be an investigation, and knew we needed to keep her safe. Because you were right about another thing. Patrick Hughes, the man who sat next to her on the flight, was an air marshal, with the task of getting her to Nashville in one piece. Obviously he didn’t do a very good job, because she’s now missing.”
“Maybe that’s because he’s dead.” Nikki worked to wrap her head around the limited facts she’d been given so far. “So why was she being escorted by an air marshal?”
“Erika Hamilton is a material witness for an upcoming grand jury trial. Our only witness, in fact, or at least the only person we’ve found willing to testify. That’s why she was on her way here.”
Nikki shook her head. The fact that Erika was a witness might explain some of her nervousness on the flight. Testifying in a high-profile case often came with its own set of risks, depending on who the defendant was.
But why did they want to involve her?
“While I’m thankful for the reassurance that I’m not losing it,” she said, “I still don’t understand why you need my help.”
“We have reason to believe there was a leak in Erika’s security. We’ve been prepping her for Thursday’s grand jury as our key witness,” Brinkley said. “And now with her missing …”
“What kind of information was leaked?”
Brinkley walked over to the mini-fridge, pulled out a couple of bottled waters, and offered one to her.
“Thanks.”
He handed her the bottle, then screwed off the lid of the second one and took a sip before continuing. “We’re still looking into the situation, but clearly someone—whoever was after her—took advantage of the chaos at the crash scene. We’re checking airport surveillance, hoping to get some information, but as of now she’s vanished. And if she’s not in court tomorrow—”
“You lose your one witness, not to mention the fact that her life is clearly in danger.” Nikki’s gaze shifted to the photo on the wall across from her of Charles Lindbergh standing next to the Spirit of St. Louis, and shivered. So her gut instincts had been correct all along.
“A week ago, someone broke into the safe house where we were debriefing her,” Brinkley said. “The agents on duty were able to intervene and protect her, but this time we’re afraid she might not have been as lucky.”
“You don’t think she simply decided to run?” Nikki asked. “It seems like a logical option. She’s scared to testify, having second thoughts, and when the plane goes down, she realizes that the air marshal guarding her is dead, and she panics and bolts. I know I’d have been tempted to get out of there.”
“We hope not. From everything we could tell, Erika was intent on testifying.”
“Okay, so once again, what does this have to do with me?”
Wells tapped his fingers against the manila folder he’d set in front of him. “We called in a couple favors and did a quick background check on you, your history with TBI, and your involvement with the Missing Persons Task Force.”
“And …” Nikki grabbed a couple painkillers from her handbag and washed them down with the water he’d given her, still cautious about where he was going with the conversation.
Brinkley leaned forward and caught her gaze. “We know about your sister.”
Nikki’s hand went automatically to the necklace she always wore that held Sarah’s photo. “You’ve done your homework,” she said, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
Brinkley pulled out a chair next to her and sat down. “Erika’s past shows tendencies of falling for the wrong men. A pattern of … destructive behavior, you might say. And as I just said, we believe she’s still determined to testify, but there’s a chance she’ll go back to the man she’s supposed to be testifying against. And in order to find her quickly, we need to know where to look.”
“We need someone outside the agency,” Wells said. “Someone who has no ties to the case. Someone Erika will trust. And someone who has her own motivation to get the job done. Because if Erika is out there and they find her, we believe they will kill her.”
“So you want me to find her first,” Nikki said.
“Your job is finding missing persons.” Brinkley took another sip of his water. “And with a possible leak somewhere within our team, we need this done quietly and quickly.”
Nikki wasn’t going to deny she was interested, but before she decided on anything, she needed more information. “Tell me about the case and who Erika was planning to testify against.”
Brinkley sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Do you recognize the name Felicia Abbott?”
Nikki’s brow rose at the familiar name. While she might not have found her sister’s abductor, the information she’d gathered over the years from both police reports and news articles had become invaluable in a number of recent cases. “Felicia Abbott was a victim connected to the Simon Crowley murders,” she said.
Brinkley’s smile widened. “I was told you were good. I guess they weren’t exaggerating.”
“What I don’t know is the connection between our missing person and Felicia Abbott. Unless …” Nikki’s mind began to spin. “Erika is Felicia Abbott.”
“Exactly.”
Nikki leaned back in
her chair, digging through her memory for the facts of the case. Six years ago, Simon Crowley had been arrested for the deaths of four women who’d all been brutally murdered on hiking trails outside of Memphis over a period of seven years. He was eventually convicted of killing two of them. One of those murdered was Felicia Abbott’s sister, who police believed was killed in a case of mistaken identity. Felicia had met Simon during her last year of college. He was charming and handsome, and she fell for him.
“I remember reading about how Felicia started noticing inconsistencies in Crowley’s behavior,” Nikki said. “She originally thought he was having an affair, because while he’d always been completely charming, he was beginning to lose his temper more frequently. One day she decided to confront him about where he’d been earlier that week, and he exploded.”
“She was afraid he was going to hurt her,” Brinkley continued, “so she managed to get in her car and drive away. But later that night Crowley returned to her house. Her sister was visiting. It was dark inside the house—”
“And Crowley mistakenly killed her sister.” Nikki shuddered.
“You’d think she’d have learned on the first go-around,” Wells said.
“She’s not the first woman to fall for the wrong man,” Nikki said.
“But twice?” Wells asked.
“There’s a common pattern for women who fall for men like Crowley,” Nikki said. “She’s smart but vulnerable, and men like him are both charming and dangerous at the same time. They know how to play to her weaknesses.” She wasn’t completely ready to defend the woman, but she’d seen enough over the years to know how hard it was for some women to walk away. “So who’s the man this time?”
Wells pushed the folder in front of him across the table toward her. “Brian Russell. He’s a wealthy philanthropist, mainly through family money. But we believe he’s using the nonprofits he’s involved in to raise, launder, and transfer funds for a man named Dimitry Petran.”
“Who’s Dimitry Petran?”
“Petran’s a high-value target involved in a little of everything, including narco trafficking, gun smuggling, and piracy,” Brinkley said.