by Juno Rushdan
Miguel nodded as if thinking the same. “Or a rival at another company.”
“Did the police say anything about the caller’s voice?” Madeline leaned back in her seat, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Male, female, the tone used?”
“There wasn’t a call.” Caitlyn set her phone down. “The father received the demands via text.”
Madeline froze. “Text?” Now, that was unusual.
Jackson Rhodes wouldn’t have a cell number that was easy to obtain. Not that it would stop a determined person, but something about the kidnapper sending a text rather than making a call bothered her.
“All right,” Miguel said. “Madeline, you’re the lead on this. I want everyone to head over to the scene and pitch in any way you can.”
Everyone rose and gathered their things.
“It’s good we didn’t have a Family Day here to bring your kids,” David said.
“None of us have kids.” Miguel opened the conference room door. “We’re all married to this job. I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing or just plain sad.”
Nick hustled around the table, filing out behind Madeline. “Hey, are you going to be all right on this one?” he asked in a low voice, coming up beside her. “I know it hits close to home.”
She’d been with BAU for five years and Nick for four. They’d worked together on several close-call cases. Nick was privy to a little more about her past and what drove her than some of the others on the team.
He used to know better than to ask her such a question.
Ever since he started dating Aubrey Flood, an ER doctor he reconnected with two months ago while trying to stop a copycat killer, he caught a severe case of feelings and started lowering his walls around everyone.
It was equal parts inviting and invasive.
Straightening her posture as she quickened her pace, Madeline pulled on a tight smile. “When have you ever known me not to be all right?” No matter how challenging, scary or gruesome things got, she didn’t simply muster through. She stayed at the top of her game, always, and never let anything, personal or otherwise, stand in the way of her doing her job.
He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. “What we do is tough. It takes everything we have until there isn’t much left at times, but we rise to meet the demands. That doesn’t mean we aren’t human. It’s natural if a case gets to us sometimes.”
Madeline appreciated the well-meaning concern, no matter how unnecessary. “I should be asking how you’re doing now that you’re finally in a serious relationship.”
“Better than I’ve been in a long time since falling for Aubrey.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips, but whenever he mentioned her name his eyes lit up in an unmistakable way. “I highly recommend monogamy. You should give it a try.”
She shrugged as she entered her office.
Who had time for love, much less an opportunity to find it? Nick’s situation was an outlier. Then there was Liam and Lorelai Parker, the administrative assistant to Director Branson. A slow-burn office romance that was about to be sealed with marital vows didn’t count either.
She slipped on her navy blue windbreaker that had FBI printed across the back.
Nick grabbed his jacket from across the hall. “But I’m guessing your earlier deflection means I struck a nerve.”
More like an old wound that healed a little bit each time she rescued a child, but she didn’t confirm or deny his astute assessment.
“And for the record,” Nick continued, “you never answered my question.”
“I’m fine.” She’d joined the FBI with the goal of becoming a kidnapping expert. Sure, whenever they got a case like this, it burned Madeline’s gut that another innocent child had been snatched, but this was what she lived for: a chance to save a young life and spare a family an agonizing loss.
She was going to do absolutely everything in her power to bring Emma Rhodes home alive and well. No matter the personal cost.
Chapter Two
“I’ve already answered this question.” Jackson Rhodes bit back impatience as he paced in front of the first-floor conference room. Seattle Police Department officers swarmed around the atrium, buzzing like bees in a hive, collecting statements from employees and vendors for the past hour. Still, they had nothing to go on. “Shouldn’t you be trying to find my daughter instead of making me repeat myself?”
“It’s important for us to go over every detail of your statement.” Detective Dowd’s flat, indifferent voice only ramped up Jackson’s anxiety. “Make sure there are no inconsistencies.”
Inconsistencies? Jackson stopped cold and glared at the detective. “What are you implying? That I might be lying about what happened?”
The detective sighed. “This is standard procedure, sir.” His gaze shifted to something over Jackson’s shoulder. “Finally,” he muttered.
Turning, Jackson spotted the FBI team crossing the atrium. Four of them, maybe more. After exchanging a few hurried words, they each took off in a different direction. One made a beeline his way, badge hooked on her waistband on the opposite hip from where her gun was holstered.
Dowd tipped his head at the statuesque woman. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.” He looked back at Jackson with relief stamped on his face. “Mr. Rhodes, this is Special Agent Madeline Striker, one of the FBI’s best kidnapping experts.”
Agent Striker proffered her hand. She was attractive with golden brown skin, long dark hair swept up in a low, loose chignon and a steely demeanor.
Jackson stepped forward, accepting her hand. Warm fingers wrapped around his and squeezed with surprising strength, sending an electric prickle down his spine. He quickly dropped his hand, ignoring the sensation that pulled him from his thoughts for a nanosecond.
“Mr. Rhodes, we’re going to do everything in our power to get your daughter back as quickly as possible.” Her confident bearing and the utter lack of pity on her face loosened the tightness in his chest.
It gave him the glimmer of hope that this nightmare might not end badly. “Thank you. Please call me Jackson.”
Another woman in her midtwenties approached them. She was younger than Agent Striker by a handful of years. Tall and slender, she greeted him with the type of worrisome expression that he was beginning to dread.
“This is my colleague, Caitlyn Yang,” Agent Striker said. “She’s our communications liaison.”
Jackson acknowledged her with a nod.
The younger woman flashed a forced smile in return and then glanced at the detective. “Thanks for the timely updates.”
“Only doing my job,” Dowd said. He looked at his notepad. “I was just about to go over Mr. Rhodes’s statement.”
“For the second time,” Jackson snapped, renewed frustration mounting inside him.
“I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Ms. Yang said. The compassion in her voice rubbed Jackson raw and it was almost more than he could bear. “Why don’t you have a seat?” she suggested, taking his elbow and gesturing to a chair.
Jackson jerked his arm away. “I don’t need to be handled.” He was an expert at managing people. Reading them during a negotiation and knowing precisely how to respond. The reversal of being on the receiving end was a pointed reminder that for the first time in his life he was completely powerless.
“I was only trying to help,” Yang said.
“The police have been here over an hour and they don’t have a single lead. Not one. More than a hundred people are out there and you mean to tell me that no one saw a damn thing? If you think trying to coddle me is helpful, you’re mistaken.”
Yang lowered her shock-filled gaze while Dowd released a heavy sigh and pursed his lips.
Jackson’s heart hammered like a brutal fist against his rib cage. “I don’t need to repeat my statement. You should be taking act
ion. Questioning the vendors again. Scouring through the surveillance footage. Combing the streets to find my daughter!”
Instead of squandering precious time.
Time that should be spent searching for Emma.
He’d read that the first forty-eight hours were the most critical. The longer she was missing, the odds of finding her alive dwindled exponentially. The thought that his little girl might never come home again made his knees shake.
Jackson was hanging on by a thread, but he managed to push the weakness aside.
It wouldn’t do Emma any good if he broke down. He paced in the conference room, needing space to breathe, but the suffocating sensation didn’t ease.
Agent Striker gave Jackson a probing stare. Her sharp brown eyes simmered with a beguiling energy. Her unreadable expression didn’t change. She didn’t even blink.
He gritted his teeth at not having any inkling as to what she was thinking.
“Detective,” Agent Striker said, “why don’t you share his statement with Caitlyn while I take over the family support role with Mr. Rhodes.”
Dowd raised a conciliatory hand. “No arguments here.” The gray-haired man flicked his pad closed. He turned along with Yang and the two left the conference room.
“Mr. Rhodes, I assure you that neither I, nor any law enforcement officer here, have any intention of wasting your time since we have none to spare,” Agent Striker said matter-of-factly, as if reading his thoughts. “I understand the inquiry process can feel tedious, frustrating even, but it’s necessary.” Grim resolve settled across her face. “Our only goal is to find your daughter, and I give you my word, I’ll do everything possible.”
The statement broke through the haze of his panic, steadying him. This was what he needed. A solid professional unencumbered by sentimentality running the case.
“All right.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for raising my voice and trying to tell everyone how to do their job.” That was so unlike him. Not the part about issuing orders or giving constructive criticism, but losing his temper. He could be brusque at times. Never rude. “To be honest, I’m angry at myself. Emma wanted to go somewhere to see a puppy. She even asked permission the way I’d taught her.” Like a good girl following the rules. “I was distracted, told her to wait. Then the next thing I knew she was gone.” Vanished without a trace. “Turns out there wasn’t any puppy on the premises.”
“Kidnappers often entice and lure children away with the prospect of something that’s hard to resist, like going somewhere fun. Getting candy. Petting a puppy.”
“The nanny had offered to come. Had said it wouldn’t be any trouble. If only I hadn’t given Liane the day off.”
“Her last name?”
“Strothe. With an e at the end.”
Madeline withdrew a smartphone from her pocket and began typing. “How long has she been with you?”
“A little less than two years. Why? You don’t think Liane had anything to do with this, do you?”
“Why didn’t you want her to come?”
“Emma was going to be with me the entire day.” He had promised her no work under any circumstances. “I had arranged to leave early because I wanted to take her to the Space Needle, for a ride on the monorail and treat her to ice cream.” They had spent a week planning what they were going to do together. “I relish the time I have with her. Liane never takes personal days, and I didn’t see any reason to waste her free time.” All true, but there was a deeper, underlying truth he couldn’t admit out loud. On Family Day, everyone brought their kids and spouse. Not their nanny. People at ETC already thought him an elitist snob. He hadn’t wanted to perpetuate the distorted perception. “Worst-case scenario, I knew I could rely on my assistant, Brittany, to help me out, but I was foolish not to bring Liane. This might never have happened if I had.”
Damn trying to repair his image.
“This isn’t your fault, Mr. Rhodes.”
Maybe not, but it didn’t lighten the crushing weight of guilt bearing down on him. Or the simple fact that if he had paid closer attention to Emma, she’d be in his arms right now. Not missing. “It’s Jackson. Please.”
This federal agent was his best chance at getting back the most important person in the world to him. Fostering some familiarity couldn’t hurt. It might even prove beneficial.
“Call me Madeline.”
“Is Liane a suspect? I got her through a highly respected agency I’ve used for a long time. They do background checks, drug testing, the works.”
“We’ll need to question everyone who has had close contact with your daughter before we can rule them out. The nanny. Your assistant. Do you have a housekeeper? Personal chef? A driver?”
“Time is my most valuable resource, but I don’t have that kind of household staff.” He never fit in with the jet-setting, country-clubbing one percent who did. But he wanted to make sure his daughter felt at ease around anyone, whether it was in a soup kitchen or on a yacht. “I have Liane to help, I use a cleaning service and I have groceries delivered. I do the cooking for Emma and myself unless we eat out. As much as possible, I prefer to be hands-on.”
Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Considering you’re a single parent with a high-pressure position at ETC and the means to hire a personal staff, that’s commendable.”
To him, it was the least his daughter deserved. “How will you figure out who took Emma?”
“We’ll look at the evidence, compile a list of suspects and run everything to the ground,” she said. “Do you have any enemies?”
“No.”
Madeline’s eyes narrowed as though the response had been delivered too fast. Or she suspected it had been a lie. Her cell phone pinged, and she read her text message. “You were recently named CEO, a position that comes with a lot of power, money and prestige. I’m sure you didn’t achieve that without ruffling a few feathers.”
“You’re right. I didn’t get this job by trying to win a popularity contest, but you’re asking if I ruffled feathers to the point someone would want to kidnap my daughter.”
Her gaze settled hard on him. “Yes.”
Success had required making tough choices. He had bruised egos and hurt feelings during his climb up the ladder. All for the sake of business. Nothing personal, and he had always treated everyone fairly. It wasn’t as if he was a monster. “No. There’s no one.”
Doubt rocked through him. Someone had taken Emma. For every action, there was a reaction. Basic physics.
The chasm of guilt inside him deepened.
“Have you had a bad breakup recently, say within the last six months? Ended a relationship when the other person wasn’t ready to say goodbye?” Madeline asked.
Jackson scoffed. “No relationships. No dalliances. No breakups. Not even a one-night stand.” His love life had been one big black hole for four years, much less the past six months.
“Who stands the most to gain from your resignation?”
The most obvious implication hadn’t occurred to him. “The vice president. Andrew Phillips. He’s next in line. Always wanted the job.”
Madeline typed on her smartphone, again.
“Excuse me, but may I ask what’s so important on your phone?”
“I’m checking red alerts from the team, any potential suspects they come up with, and inputting what I learn in a shared document. The process is efficient and timely, but I’m still focused on everything you say.” She looked up at him. “Please continue.”
“Andrew would be the one to fill in for me. At least temporarily, until the board officially designates my replacement.” Andrew had been there at the start of Family Day. When was the last time anyone had seen him?
Jackson spun toward the atrium and scanned the crowd, looking for him.
Madeline glanced in the same direction, then caught his eye. “The kidnapper conta
cted you via text?”
“Yes.” Jackson nodded, recalling how terrifying it had been to receive the demand, the acknowledgment that Emma had been taken, but it had also been a relief. He had something to act on. A reason to hope there was a chance to get his daughter back. “Don’t kidnappers usually issue ransom demands through a phone call?”
“Most times, but not always. We’ll need your cell phone to trace the text.”
“My IT person, Rivka Molnar, is cracking away at that as we speak. She’s one of the best there is in the business.” As soon as Rivka had given her statement to the police and dropped her own daughter off at school, she’d gotten to work on it.
“No doubt. Nevertheless, we’ll need to have our people take a look.”
“Of course.” Surely the FBI had their own protocol and needed to verify everything.
Another ping on Madeline’s phone drew her attention to the screen. “Where can we find Ms. Molnar?”
“This floor. In a restricted area, beyond security. You need a badge to access it.”
With a nod, she began typing. “Apparently, our techie, Liam McDare, is in security now, reviewing the surveillance footage. He’ll take care of it.”
“I suppose I should contact the media, set up a press conference so I can resign publicly per the demands.” The sooner he did so, the sooner he might get his daughter back.
“I’d advise against that.” Madeline lowered her phone. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
His heart twisted into a knot. “Why? It was the one thing the kidnapper demanded.” The only thing. Not money. Not power. “My resignation in exchange for Emma’s safe return.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Rivka darted past two police officers into the conference room.
“Jackson!” Rivka rushed to him with his cell phone in her hand.
“Agent Striker—Madeline—this is Rivka Molnar. The head of the IT department I was telling you about.”
“I traced the number,” Rivka said, cheeks flushed, stray red curls that had escaped her ponytail hanging around her face. She handed him the phone. “It was easier than I expected considering the circumstances. Almost too easy, now that I think about it.”