When She's Gone

by Palmer, Jane;

  Ara stood and waited for him to start asking more questions, to push further than Oliver had. To her utter surprise, he gave a nearly indiscernible nod and directed his attention to Oliver.

  “We need your permission to use the funds we’ve set up for this.”

  Oliver drew himself up, straightened his shoulders, and set the line of his jaw. He looked ready to do battle. “Can you guarantee Sam will be returned safely?”

  “Of course not,” Luke replied. “But I can guarantee that we will do everything possible to make that happen.”

  “Which means nothing, since the kidnappers didn’t even allow me to speak with her this time. You may arrive to the pickup point, transfer the money, and find out afterward Sam’s already dead.”

  “True.” Luke met his steely gaze with one of his own. “But there’s also an equal chance she’s alive and well.”

  “By not providing the ransom, you may be signing her death sentence,” Ara added.

  “Or we can negotiate,” Oliver countered. “Right now they believe they have all the power. We have to take it back.”

  “This isn’t a game.” Ara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The money the kidnappers wanted was nothing but a drop in the bucket to Oliver. This wasn’t about the cash. This was about ego. “This isn’t some boardroom deal you are trying to make. Sam’s life is on the line here.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he shot back. “I don’t care about the money. I do care about getting Sam back home alive, and right now, they are holding all the cards. If we ignore this demand, they’ll call us back. And in the next conversation, they’ll be far more willing to discuss the terms in order to get their money.”

  “Ignore the demand?”

  The question came from the doorway, the voice incredulous. Ara turned to see Holly standing there, a horrified expression on her face. Her gaze was locked on Oliver, and she stared at him for a moment, clarity shimmering in those wide blue eyes. “Are you actually suggesting we should ignore the demand?”

  Color rose on Oliver’s cheeks. “Holly, it’s not what you think—”

  “Enough!” The word came like a blast from her chest, and she sliced the air with her hand.

  She turned to Luke. “Is my daughter still alive?”

  He hesitated a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “If we pay the ransom, is there a chance we’ll get her back?”

  “Yes. There is.”

  She jutted her chin out. “Then I’ll pay it. What do I need to do?”

  “The money has to be prepared, set up in a special account so we can track it.” Luke looked from Holly to Oliver and back again. “We don’t have time to set up new funds before drop-off.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You’ve already set up the account. The money is ready to go.”

  “We arranged it with your husband hours ago since we knew this was a possibility.”

  Holly spun around and jabbed a finger at her husband. “Transfer the money, Oliver. Give it to them.”

  He hesitated for a moment, and tears flooded Holly’s eyes. “Who are you? Where is the man I married, the man who promised to take care of me and my daughter? If Sam dies because of your inaction, I’ll never be able to forgive you.”

  He walked over to her, placed his hands on her arms. “That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. I am trying to take care of Sam. If we give the kidnappers the money, we’ve lost any leverage we have in getting Sam back alive. By holding back, we may be able to force their hand.”

  “Or they may kill her,” Holly whispered. “Isn’t that right, Agent?”

  Luke closed his eyes briefly and then opened them. “Ma’am, to be honest, I can’t guarantee Sam’s safe return. We’re doing everything we can, but there are variables that can’t be predicted.”

  Holly’s gaze landed on Ara. “What do you think?”

  The weight of the question drew down Ara’s shoulders. She didn’t want to be responsible for this, but it seemed there was no choice. “Pay the ransom and let me bring her back.”

  Holly nodded slowly and then turned back to Oliver. “I trust the FBI. And Ara. Give them the money.”

  Oliver sighed, low and long. Then he kissed Holly’s forehead and drew her into his arms. He met Luke’s gaze. “You have my permission to use the money.”

  Luke started for the door. “Ara, with me.”

  She followed behind him, pausing only long enough to glance over her shoulder at Oliver and Holly. Holly had started crying, her shoulders shaking with the strain. Oliver murmured words of comfort Ara couldn’t make out. Their grief and fear pulled at her heart. She could not fail. Not just for Sam’s sake. For Holly’s and Oliver’s as well.

  She had to bring Sam home. No matter the cost.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “I’m not wearing the vest,” Ara declared. “I’ve let you hook me up with a microphone and an earpiece, not to mention enough wires to electrocute myself with. But the vest . . . that’s where I draw the line.”

  Thomas took a deep breath, his features struggling to remain passive. “Department regulations require it.”

  “I’m not an officer. I’m a civilian.”

  He snorted and waved the bulletproof vest in front of her. “Even more reason for you to be wearing it.”

  Ara glared at him. “Ha, you’re so funny. It doesn’t matter what your regulations say, I’m not party to them.”

  “Weren’t you a cop, for crying out loud? Surely you’ve had to wear vests before!”

  “I never liked them. They slow me down, and in this case, every second could count.”

  Thomas’s tone lost some of its edge. “I get it. But look, these are Luke’s orders, not mine, okay? So stop being a pain in my ass, put the damn vest on, and take it up with him, all right?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then jerked the vest from his outstretched hands. She wasn’t going to wear it, but Thomas was only following orders. Better to save the real fight for the man in charge.

  She’d only just had the thought when the dining room door swung open and Luke walked through. Before he could open his mouth or get distracted by one of his FBI cronies, she went for the attack.

  “I have a bone to pick with you.” She lifted the vest and waved it at him. “I’m not wearing this. It’ll slow down my response time and make it difficult—”

  “Everyone clear the room. Now.” Luke’s order cut her off, and it was only then that she paid closer attention to the strain around his mouth, the tightness in his shoulders. She’d passed them off as tension due to the upcoming recovery, but his tone was harsher and colder than she’d ever heard from him when talking to his team. He hadn’t even said please.

  There was a rush of activity as the small FBI army cleared the room. Thomas was the last one left with them.

  “She still needs to do a voice check on the microphone with the audio guy,” he advised Luke. “We don’t have long.”

  Luke gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment, and Thomas shut the door behind him.

  The silence left in the room was unnerving and unexpected. After the last thirty minutes of flurried activity, it seemed wrong.

  “What’s going on?” Ara asked.

  “I’m calling off the drop.”

  “What? You can’t do that.”

  He moved to the long windows across the room. The late-afternoon sunlight flitted across his features, playing along his strong jawline, the curve of his cheek. “Who is Dmitri Grishnokov?”

  Damn it. Anger overtook the shock, flooding her veins with heat. “I already told you. I don’t know Dmitri. I had never met him before the night you and I interviewed him at Mist.”

  She’d seen the hint of mistrust in his face when the kidnappers asked her to do the exchange. Ara had hoped it would be dismissed, that her actions over the last few days might quickly dissolve whatever suspicions had crept back up.

  Obviously, it was still an issue.

  Hurt mingled with the anger. S
he walked toward him, her strides purposeful and efficient. “I thought we were past all this. I thought you believed me when I said I had nothing to do with Sam’s kidnapping.”

  He didn’t answer her, nor did he turn in her direction. Recklessly, she punched him in the arm. “I’m talking to you, damn it. There’s only one hour till the drop-off. We don’t have time for this crap now.”

  He spun, grabbing her upper arms, holding her in place. “This has nothing to do with trusting you. If I didn’t believe you, trust you . . . Ara, you wouldn’t be here.” He scanned her face. “I’m trying to save your life.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She tried to break free of his hold, but he only tightened his grip.

  “Dmitri Grishnokov knows you.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Is it? Come on, Ara, you saw it as well as I did when we were at Mist. The way he reacted to you. The interest he showed in you.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What are you saying, Luke?”

  “We missed it.” He loosened his grip on her arms but didn’t release her. “At Jackson’s house. We didn’t see it because his mouth had been taped shut, but they found it during the autopsy.” He locked gazes with her, the force of those sharp blue eyes almost more than she could take. “Ara, his tongue had been cut out.”

  The weight of what he was saying slammed into her.

  “The trafficking ring,” she whispered. “From Austin.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand . . .”

  “Dmitri recognized you. When we interviewed him at Mist. He must’ve put two and two together and placed you as one of the cops from that day. It’s why the kidnappers are asking for you to do the drop-off.”

  She frowned, her eyebrows creasing together. “Why would he want to come after me?”

  “Because,” he said softly, “a trafficker died that day.”

  “Viktor.” She shook her head. “But he was a low-level player. Nothing a boss like Dmitri would lose sleep over.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t as low-level as you thought. How much information did the Austin Police Department have on him?”

  “Not much. He hadn’t been in the game that long.”

  Luke nodded. “Exactly.”

  Ara again tried to break Luke’s hold, and this time he let her. On shaking legs, she turned away, resting her head against the cool windowpane. A thousand questions rolled through her mind, but she forced herself to focus on that day in Austin. The scent of smoke and burning wood. The oppressive heat from the fire barely tempered by the cool breeze rushing along her bare scars. The shouts of her fellow officers, of her captain. The painful squeezing of her chest as she tried to pull air into her lungs. The feeling of being watched.

  Ara jolted upright as the memory hit her.

  “What is it?” Luke asked.

  “A car. A town car passed by the house after I’d been pulled out. It was moving slowly, the window partially rolled down. It didn’t belong there. The house was in a deserted area, no reason for someone to be going there unless . . .”

  “They were there to meet with the traffickers.”

  She nodded. “I sent some men after it, but they lost it on the highway. The license plate was covered in mud, so we never had a shot at tracing it.”

  “Dmitri?”

  “Or someone working for him.”

  “It’s a trap, Ara. He’s going to kill two birds with one stone. You and Sam.” He came up, so close she could feel the heat of him, but he didn’t touch her. “He has no intention of letting Sam live. Not with the knowledge she has of his organization. And by having you do the drop-off, he can exact whatever revenge he feels is necessary for Viktor’s death.”

  “But why go through this charade? Why not just kill Sam now and take me out some other way?”

  “Because this way he gets the money, too.”

  Now he did touch her, his hands tracing the lines of her arms, up to her shoulders. Strong, soothing.

  Ara lifted her head from the cool glass, allowed herself one moment to lean against him.

  “If I don’t go, he’ll kill her.”

  “Ara, she’s dead anyway.”

  “She’s not dead yet.” Ara spun to face him. “I can save her.”

  “Didn’t you hear anything I just told you? It’s a trap.”

  “I don’t care. I won’t abandon her.” She tilted her chin until she was looking him in the eyes. She wanted him to see her determination, to understand the price she was willing to pay. “I’m doing this, with or without you.”

  He scanned her face, taking in the set of her jaw. Luke hesitated only a moment.

  “All right. You’re doing this with me.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hair clip. Gently, he smoothed her hair back from her face and used the pin to secure it. “This is a GPS tracker. I’ll be following your movements every step of the way.”

  His fingers brushed along her ear, where an earpiece was tucked inside, invisible to the naked eye. “I’ll be able to talk to you, and you can speak to me through the microphone.”

  He palmed her cheek, his thumb fluttered across her lips. “Even with all this, even with a team of FBI agents, I can’t guarantee your protection.”

  “I know,” she whispered. Her heart pummeled against her chest.

  “He’ll do his damnedest to kill you.”

  “Then I guess I’d better make sure we get to him first.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Bethesda Terrace was bustling with people. Couples holding hands, moms with strollers, children running across the square. All Ara saw were potential victims, innocent people who she would have to protect just as much as Sam.

  Her stomach twisted, and she resisted the urge to rub it. She wouldn’t have been able to reach it anyway. Luke had won the argument over the bulletproof vest.

  Ara scanned the area around the central fountain, narrowing her focus on the west side. No sign of Sam, although she did spot three undercover FBI officers. One reading a newspaper on the bench. Another two drinking coffee as they strolled along the path.

  “Ara, we’re ready.” Luke’s steady voice in her ear broke through her thoughts. She felt a sudden calmness come over her, a singular focus.

  Get Sam out.

  “Snipers are set up around the perimeter,” he continued. “You won’t be able to see us, but we’re here.”

  “Roger that,” she whispered, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. Unless absolutely necessary, Ara would maintain radio silence with Luke. She couldn’t know who was watching or where they were, and she didn’t want to run the risk that the kidnappers would realize the FBI was in extremely close proximity.

  She walked toward the fountain with long, steady strides. Once on the west side, she started pacing slowly. Staying clear of the crowds, working to make herself visible. Five minutes went by. Ten. Sweat trickled down her back despite the cooler temperatures the setting sun was ushering in. Where in the hell was Sam?

  Her cell phone rang, vibrating in her jacket. She pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID.

  Unknown. Her breath tight in her chest, she answered.

  “You made it.”

  The voice on the other end came through clear, smooth and silky, with the touch of an accent. He wasn’t using a voice distorter.

  That couldn’t be good.

  She turned slightly and scanned the area again. Out in the open like this, Ara was an easy target. She might as well have drawn a bull’s-eye on her back. Fear made her palms sweaty, slick against the phone. They could be anywhere, watching, taking aim right this moment.

  Stop. Stay calm.

  She tilted the phone as close as she could toward the microphone on her lapel and said, “I see we’ve decided to drop all pretenses.”

  He chuckled. Deep and low. “There’s no need to keep secrets between the two of us anymore.”

  “Do we know each other?” she asked, no
hint of her fear in her voice. “Because, if so, you must not be that damn memorable. I don’t recognize your voice at all.”

  “Trust me, Ara, if we’d met before now, you’d remember.”

  Cocky, confident bastard. This man wasn’t Dmitri, that much she was sure of, which made him one of his henchmen.

  “Now,” he went on. “Let’s get right to business. I’m sure you would like to know how to get your beloved Sam back.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Are you always this impatient?” There was more than a hint of amusement in his voice. Having the power, playing with her—it was fun for him. She stayed silent, not rising to the bait.

  He sighed heavily. “Look toward the trees on your left-hand side.”

  She spun, holding her breath. There was a teenager standing next to a group of trees. A ball cap obscured her features from Ara’s view, but the body size and shape matched Sam’s.

  She took one step forward, and the kidnapper tsked in her ear. “Don’t move.”

  Ara froze. Her feet itched to cross the distance between her and Sam.

  “If you take one more step in her direction, I will kill her.” The kidnapper’s voice was blunt and matter-of-fact.

  “Ara, we’re going to see if we can get close enough,” Luke whispered in her earpiece. “It’s okay.”

  Even as he spoke, the undercover agents having coffee started up the path, chatting.

  “I won’t move until you tell me to,” Ara said.

  “Good girl. Now then, on to the money transfer. I’m going to hang up now and send you a text with the account number on it. You’re going to send the money. The moment it appears, I’ll let Sam go.”

  “It sounds simple.”

  “It is.”

  “Yeah, except how can I be sure you won’t shoot Sam anyway, even after you get the money?”

  “Well . . . бабушка надвое сказала.”

  He was playing with her, using an old Russian proverb. The literal translation was “Granny said two things.” In English, “We’ll see what we’ll see; maybe rain or maybe snow, maybe yes, maybe no.”

  There was no way for her to be sure. But she didn’t have a choice in the matter.