Devil in Disguise

by Heather Huffman

  As if looking for more advice, she flipped on E-Street radio and drove on autopilot over to the Atlantic City Marina District. If traffic cooperated, she might even make it in time to watch the fireworks display over the water.

  The lyrics to a favorite song drifted through the car, urging her thoughts down a dangerous path. Bruce and Patti were singing to each other. Rachel yearned for the kind of love they shared. He was telling her that he could pass the test. Rachel thought of Conrad; she wanted him to be tougher than the rest.

  “This is ridiculous!” she shouted to the night air, forgetting for a moment that her ragtop was down and earning stares from the couple in the car next to hers. Sinking a little lower in her seat, she grabbed her phone and dialed a number she still knew by heart.

  He picked up on the first ring, before she could worry he’d changed phones.

  “Hello.” His voice rumbled low and quiet over the line.

  “Bruce Springsteen told me to call you,” she blurted.

  “Are you listening to E-Street radio?”

  “Well, yes, but that wasn’t what I was referring to. The Bruce Springsteen told me to call you today. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why not, so this is me, calling you.”

  “Okay.” His response was measured. “I would really like to take this call, but I’m not alone at the moment.”

  She was mortified. “I am so sorry.” Her cheeks burned — thank God he couldn’t see through the phone. “I should have thought you might be out with your girlfriend tonight.”

  “No, look, it’s not like that. Hold on.” His voice became muffled as she heard him excusing himself from another conversation before returning to her, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not with a girl. I’m at work; I guess I just answered because I was so surprised to see your number on my caller ID.”

  “Oh.” She was infinitely pleased to hear that. “I’m sorry to bother you at work. Maybe you could give me a call when your shift ends.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  She clutched the phone close to her ear, partially so she could hear him, partially because the death grip on the phone somehow seemed to be keeping her heart from shattering.

  “If there was any way I could change things, I would. Trust me, I would,” he promised.

  “Okay.” Sure, it was a lame response, but it was better than sobbing and begging him to rewind the clock for her, to go back to who they were before she chose the wrong door.

  His voice was soft and low. “Tonight, when you go to sleep, imagine me there with you. When I go to sleep, I’ll imagine you in my arms again. We’ll share one last dance, okay?”

  Someone was cursing Conrad in the background. Rachel winced at the venom in the stranger’s voice and didn’t recover quickly enough to respond to Conrad’s words.

  “I’ve got to go. Je t'aime, ma bichette.”

  Rachel stared blankly at the phone for a full two minutes after hanging up. He’d rejected her then told her he loved her. It made no sense whatsoever.

  Hearts of Stone was now emanating from the radio, the song of a love lost mocking her. Rachel scowled openly at the car speaker. “Very funny. Absolutely hilarious.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  RACHEL TOSSED AND TURNED SO MUCH that night in her bed that Darcy finally gave up trying to snuggle and found a less volatile spot to sleep. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Conrad wasn’t acting like himself; she’d noticed it at Christmas but hadn’t been able to put her finger on just what it was. Everything in her screamed that something was going on with him, that he needed a friend right now.

  With his sister in Arkansas and the rest of his friends and family in Louisiana, maybe Rachel was all he had in Jersey. She wondered if she should shove pride aside and be that friend. Then she wondered if that was even physically possible. Something about being near that man made her want to crawl on his lap and nibble at him, which was not exactly how most friends behaved. Maybe in some circles, but none she ran in.

  About the time Rachel was begging anyone who would listen to let her fall asleep, her phone rang. She squinted at the screen, trying to read the number through her exhausted haze, wondering why on earth her mother would call her at this hour. Surely they could finish their fight after the sun came up.

  “Hello?” she answered cautiously, as Rosemary simultaneously blurted, “Julia’s gone.”

  Rachel’s preoccupation with herself vanished at the sound of her mother’s frantic voice on the other end of the line.

  “What?”

  “Your little sister is gone. I called the police, but they won’t do anything.”

  “What do you mean they won’t do anything?” Rachel’s mind raced, struggling to comprehend what her mother was saying.

  “They won’t do anything.” Rosemary enunciated each word.

  “Did she run away?”

  “That’s what they’re saying, but I don’t think she would do that.”

  Rachel frowned, not entirely sure she agreed with her mother but unwilling to voice that opinion. “I’ll leave right now. I can be there in a couple of hours, depending on traffic.”

  “Don’t bother; I won’t be here. I’m going to go look for her myself.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Just sit tight. Let me make a few phone calls. Maybe I can get someone to help. Give me just a few minutes, Mom. Please.”

  “I can’t just sit here.” A sob caught in Rosemary’s throat.

  “Round up some current pictures of Julia.” Rachel assigned her the first task that came to mind. “When you’re finished with that, give me a call back. Maybe I’ll know something by then.”

  As she shimmied into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Rachel flipped through a mental Rolodex, debating who to call. The number she dialed first surprised even her.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you are a particularly tenacious woman?” Conrad answered, his tone surprisingly light given the time of night and their last conversation.

  “You have, on more than one occasion. Right now, I actually need a favor. I’m really sorry to bother you with this, but it seems my little sister has taken off. I’m afraid my mom is going to do something stupid before I can get there. You’re so much closer than I am, I thought that maybe…”

  “I’m on my way,” Conrad interrupted.

  Relief washed over her. “I know it’s not fair to ask you,” Rachel added as she checked her purse and headed out the door. “I just didn’t know who else to call.”

  “Do you have any idea where she went?”

  “None. I’m not even sure how long she’s been gone. The police say she ran away, so they can’t do anything. Mom swears she didn’t. She sounds desperate. I have no idea what’s what.”

  “I’m getting in my car now. I can be at your mom’s in fifteen minutes. Maybe I can sort things out. I’ll give you a call as soon as I know something.”

  “Thank you. I’m getting in my car too, but it’ll be a couple of hours before I can get there.”

  “It’ll be okay,” he promised. Rachel knew he had no way of knowing that, but the words soothed her anyway.

  “Thank you,” she repeated. He hung up, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the road. She tried to organize those thoughts, to formulate a plan. Anything was better than sinking into frantic worry.

  It took Conrad thirty minutes to call Rachel back. They were the longest thirty minutes of her life.

  “She’s been gone since right after you left,” he informed her solemnly. “The police found a chat room exchange between Julia and some guy. She agreed to meet him at the park down the street, so she left the house willingly.”

  “Okay,” Rachel answered slowly, processing his words. “How’s Mom?”

  “A nervous wreck and very surprised to see me.”

  “Guess I should have called her to warn her, huh?”

  “Hey, Rachel.” Conrad lowered his voice. “I th
ink your mom is right to be so worried. I’ve seen stuff like this before. At work. I can’t explain now, over the phone.”

  “Conrad,” Rachel breathed his name, unsure what else to say.

  “Didn’t you date a guy in the FBI? Did you two part on good terms?”

  “As good as any, I guess.” Rachel thought back to her brief fling with Jeff Talbot. She’d known he was a playboy from the word “go,” but somehow she’d been sucked in by his charm anyway. It was too bad, too, because the relationship had put a wedge in a blossoming friendship with his sister, Veronica, who’d warned her how it would end.

  “Do you think you could give him a call? Explain what you know and see if he can get someone from the field office here to swing by.”

  “Can’t you just tell the police what you know?”

  “Babe, they know it already. They don’t give a damn. The only way you’re going to get your little sister back is to get someone to care she’s gone—someone with the ability to find her.”

  “Conrad, you’re scaring me. I wish you would just spit out what you’re trying to say.”

  “Call the ex-boyfriend. We’ll talk when you get here.”

  He hung up on her. Rachel frowned at the phone before dialing Information. Jeff was unlisted, but his parents’ number was still in her phone since she never purged contacts. Thankfully, Sean Talbot remembered her, and she was soon dialing Jeff’s new number.

  He answered on the third ring.

  “Jeff, it’s Rachel Cooper.”

  “Rachel. Now there’s a fond memory. To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you miss me?”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Terribly. Actually, I feel a little silly calling, but a friend of mine is kind of adamant that you’re the only one who can help.”

  “Anything. What’s up?” His voice took on a serious tone at the urgency in hers.

  She took a deep breath and spilled out the day’s events. When she finally finished, she waited for him to tell her to call the local police. Instead, he hung up on her with the promise to call back in ten minutes.

  Fifteen excruciating minutes later, he was back on the line to get her mom’s address. “Veronica will meet you at your mom’s. She’s hopping on a commuter flight now. You wouldn’t happen to know your little sister’s Chatspace login information, would you?”

  “No, but I’ll get it to you. Can I call you back with it?”

  “If you can’t find it, don’t worry. We’ll just use the back door. You did the right thing calling me. Just try to keep your mom still until we get there. We’ll get your sister back.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Rachel hung up, shell-shocked. Jeff had done nothing to explain his reaction or why his sister could help. He seemed as reluctant as Conrad to discuss it over the phone, but Rachel trusted him. He might think he was God’s gift to women, but he was also a good guy, and she knew he’d do anything for a friend.

  Conrad’s truck was in her mom’s driveway when Rachel pulled in. She threw the car in park and bolted to the door, where her mom met her.

  This time, there was no awkward greeting. Rachel wrapped her mom in a brief but fierce hug before following her to the living room. When Conrad stood to greet her, she instantly noticed that he didn’t look like his normal self. His hair had gotten long enough to be slightly disheveled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Those eyes said he wanted to wrap Rachel in his arms, but he stayed rooted to his spot.

  “Veronica is on her way over. Jeff says she can help us,” Rachel told them, uncertainty in her voice.

  “Who’s Veronica?” Conrad asked.

  “Jeff’s sister. She was my contact for a piece I did on the FBI. When I knew her, she was just the Web content editor. I have no clue how that’s supposed to help us, but Jeff said she was on a plane headed this way and that I should sit tight until she gets here.”

  “And because Jeff said it, you’re just going to do it—no questions asked?” Rosemary put her hands on her hips and scowled at her daughter.

  “Considering he’s our best option at the moment, yes, I’m going to do as he asked. Otherwise, I might make him mad, and then he won’t help us, and we’ll be right back where we started.”

  Rosemary’s voice rose a notch. “I’m not just going to stand around and wait for someone else to go get my kid.”

  Rachel was almost angry enough to remind her mother of their conversation the night before, the one where Rachel had been scoffed at for wanting to meet the boy Julia was dating. But she knew the cruelty of those words would only make things worse. Rachel might not want to be unnecessarily vicious, but that didn’t mean she had any intention of backing down. “Did you find the pictures I asked for? We’re supposed to call Jeff with Julia’s computer login information anyway, so why don’t we ask what else we can do to be productive while we wait? Or would you rather stand here and fight like fools in front of Conrad? Your choice, because I’m feeling kind of bitchy at the moment. I can catfight if you really want to.”

  Rosemary stared hard at her daughter. Rachel folded her arms across her chest and stared back. Conrad sat down. Rachel had the distinct impression he was trying to be invisible, not an easy task for a six-foot-four man.

  Rosemary finally caved. “I’ll go get the pictures.”

  “Thank you. I’ll write down Jeff’s number so you can call him with Julia’s login too.” Rachel jotted down the number on a scrap of paper and handed it to her mother before turning to Conrad. Softening, she said, “And thank you.”

  “Anytime.” He captured her with a painfully tender gaze.

  She flushed. “I’d better go call work,” she said, ripping herself free of his invisible chains. Rachel was on the phone with her office for a while, working out the details for an extended leave of absence if need be. As she hung up, she heard tires crunching on the driveway and peeked out the curtains. The sun was well into its ascent, causing Rachel to squint a little so she could see a black SUV she didn’t recognize pulling alongside her Mustang. Veronica slid out of the passenger seat; Rachel had no clue who the handsomely tousled man behind the driver’s seat was.

  “Is that them?” Rosemary peeked out the window beside Rachel, watching the couple grab several black bags from the back of their vehicle.

  “Something tells me Ronnie doesn’t just edit websites anymore,” Rachel muttered, going to answer the knock at the door.

  The woman standing on her mother’s front stoop only vaguely resembled the pampered princess who had once been Rachel’s friend. She was still the same blond-haired beauty, but she was leaner, and there was a steel to her icy blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. She looked like a cat burglar in her sleek black clothes. Behind her stood a man, also in black; his face was friendly, despite solemn gray-green eyes. Even under the circumstances, some part of Rachel acknowledged what an attractive couple the two made. Startlingly so.

  “Ronnie, thank you so much for coming.” Rachel ushered her old acquaintance in with a hug.

  “Absolutely. Rachel, this is my husband, Rick.” Veronica pulled away to introduce the two. They acknowledged each other with a handshake and a nod of the head.

  Once introductions were made all around, Conrad asked, his voice gentle, “Mrs. Phelps, could you please put on a pot of coffee for us?” Rosemary nodded, moving to do as requested without a word. There was a commanding air about their guests that calmed her need to rant at the current situation. As soon as she was out of earshot, Veronica began talking hurriedly in a low voice.

  “Rachel, I’m going to plunge right in because there’s no way to be delicate about this. The odds are pretty good that your sister has been taken in by a trafficking ring that’s running in the area. We have about a day to find her before she’s lost in the abyss. It’s not a good situation—even the best we can hope for is not good. But you did the right thing to call us so soon. That greatly improves her odds.”

  The room began to spin. Rachel swayed a little. Conrad covered the ground in between t
hem just in time to catch her. She allowed him to pull her against his chest, relying on his strength to anchor her.

  “What do you mean?” She blinked. She knew what trafficking was. She’d just done a piece on the cocoa plantations thriving on slave labor. She’d urged her viewers to buy fair trade chocolate. She’d exposed the horrors of UN Peacekeepers exploiting girls in Eastern Bloc countries and had even started a campaign to hold them accountable. What did that have to do with her sister?

  “I’ll explain in a minute, but I need to know – do you want to break this to your mom your own way, or can she handle this?” Veronica obviously remembered Rosemary Phelps well.

  “I’d better at least lay the groundwork,” Rachel answered slowly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  Conrad loosened his grip, allowing her to step away once she was steady. As if stuck in a nightmare, Rachel went to find her mom in the kitchen.

  “Mom?” Rachel walked over and stood by her mom at the counter. “My friends think Julia is probably in a pretty bad spot, and we have some difficult conversations ahead of us. Do you want me to handle this, or do you want to be there too?”

  Rosemary stopped fumbling with the coffee pot and turned to face her. Pain was etched into her expression as she lifted her gaze heavenward. After a prolonged silence, Rosemary once again looked at her daughter. “I can do this.”

  “We’ll do it together,” Rachel promised, wrapping an arm around Rosemary. They rejoined the group in the living room and sat as one on the couch.

  Rachel spoke for them both. “We’re ready. Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

  Right then, Rick spoke up, and Rachel noticed his thick Scottish accent for the first time. “Ronnie and I are independent contractors. We work for the government—sometimes the U.S., sometimes others—to fight human trafficking. Our partner, Vance, is in Rome at the moment, but he’s promised to help any way he can. For the past few months, Ronnie and I have been trying to knock out a gang that runs girls up and down the East Coast. It’s fed from a pipeline that runs from Canada through Ohio all the way to the seaboard. Gangs along the coast get in on the action because running girls makes a lot of money, and it’s safer than guns or drugs.”