by Matt Lincoln
“I haven’t found her,” she whispered finally, and a single tear squeezed out of her eye and ran down her cheek.
Jack launched himself to his feet.
“What the hell have you been doing then?” he yelled. “Just sitting around, twiddling your thumbs? Sitting on your ass while our daughter is out there scared and alone, in the hands of some madman? While you do nothing? Isn’t this your entire job? Shouldn’t you be doing better than this?”
“We’re doing our best,” Rachel said. She wanted to yell, but it was still just a whisper, barely there.
Jack laughed. It was a cruel, hard sound that made her want to hunch in on herself, fold herself into a square, and disappear.
“Sure you are,” he retorted. “Doing your best. That’s what you always say, isn’t it? If that were true, things would be different, wouldn’t they?” He didn’t shout again, but that was worse because each word held such venom that they didn’t need volume to get the point across.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. He was saying things she already knew. She couldn’t tell him about the blackmail message, though she longed to because at least it was something, but he might pass the information along to Barrett or, even worse, Marshal Graham.
“Why are you here, Rachel?” Jack continued. He was still standing, but he didn’t know where to go or what to do with his body. There was energy coiled beneath his skin, but it had nowhere to go, no release to be found, and so his fists remained bunched at his sides, shaking slightly, and he ground his teeth furiously, jaw jumping. “Just to tell me there’s no news? Or did you come seeking comfort? Did you want someone to tell you it’ll all be okay? You’ll find none of that here because this is your fault. Yours and that stupid job of yours. You always loved it more than her and now look where it’s gotten her.”
Rage flickered in the pit of Rachel’s stomach. It was a tiny ember, sparked to life by Jack’s angry speech. She wondered how much of it he actually meant and how much of it was him just needing to lash out, but then she decided she didn’t care. He had no right to treat her like this. Not when she was hurting, too. Her anger was growing, spreading branches up through her chest toward her heart, her throat, her mouth, but Jack was still speaking, still yelling.
“When the police get Malia back, you can bet that you will never see her again. She is scared and alone, and she might be hurt, and if he kills her, I will never forgive you!” Jack’s face had gone completely red behind his beard, and Rachel didn’t think he’d taken a breath since he’d started yelling at her. She half hoped he would drop from lack of oxygen and immediately felt awful as soon as the thought crossed her mind.
“Enough!” she yelled finally, cutting off the next part of Jack’s tirade.
She stood primly and brushed out the creases on her pants. Her rage had turned cold. There was ice in her veins, and it made everything so clear. Yes, Jack was lashing out simply to lash out, but he also meant every single word he said, even if he didn’t realize it right now. Rachel turned to face him squarely. “Your yelling at me is not going to bring Malia back any faster. Your yelling is not going to help her. I’m going to help her.”
She stalked toward him as she spoke, each step measured and silent against the ground. Jack stepped away until his back was pressed against the wall. He started as he ran into it and braced his hands against the wood, staring at her with wide eyes.
“I came here as a courtesy since it’s been a few days, and I thought you deserved an update, even if there wasn’t much to tell,” Rachel continued. She let out a bitter little laugh. “Hell, for a second, I thought we were in this together. Whatever has happened between us in the past, I thought this, at least, would bring us together. But you’re more interested in playing the blame game than doing anything productive.” She flicked a strand of hair from her face. “That’s fine. You always were petty, anyway. So you can stay here in your safe house, and I will go find our daughter. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Whatever it takes, she repeated silently to herself.
“I’ll have Detective Barrett call the next time we have news,” she finished. “Goodbye, Jack.”
Jack was standing right by her path to the back door, close enough to reach out and touch her if she passed him by, so Rachel turned and headed for the front door instead. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them into fists to hide it. Her face felt hot, and she just wanted to lie down for a while and cry, but she couldn’t do that with Jack around. She couldn’t do that until Malia was home and safe in her arms.
“Rachel,” Jack said when her hand was on the doorknob.
She paused but didn’t look back.
“I—find her. Please.”
“I will. And do you know why?” Rachel spoke to the door, but she could feel Jack’s gaze on her back. “Because it’s my damn job.”
And then she yanked the door open and swept out into the warm, wet day.
16
I sat at my desk, staring at the scrap of paper where I’d written down John Amherst’s number. Cal was still running it through the system to try to verify it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t give it a call in the meantime. I glanced at the conference room. Graham was still out, though she hadn’t told anyone where she’d gone. Hopefully, she wouldn’t walk back in while I was on the phone.
I dialed the number and hit the green “call” button, raising the phone to my ear and leaning back in my chair. The phone beeped at me immediately, and an automated voice informed me that the number I was trying to reach was no longer in service.
“Damn,” I said as the line went dead.
“Amherst’s number?” Lex asked, sitting across from me at her own desk.
“Not in service,” I said, dropping my phone by the keyboard.
“Why would Amherst disappear so completely?” Lex wondered. “He was a decorated U.S. Marshal. He could be in charge of the whole shebang or teaching somewhere. Why go off the grid?”
“Maybe something happened. Maybe he crossed the wrong bad guy.”
“So, how do we get ahold of him?” Lex asked.
I shrugged. From what Rachel had told us of Amherst, he didn’t have any family, and his old friends were work friends, most of whom were U.S. Marshals, and if Graham hadn’t been able to shake anything loose from them, then I doubted we would, either.
“We’ll just have to hope Cal turns something up,” I sighed. “In the meantime, I might take a small thank-you gift over to Linda and Meg for their help this morning. Do you want to come?”
“Ramirez wants to talk with me about his case,” Lex answered. “You go. I’ll call you as soon as Cal turns something up.”
I grabbed the bag with my damp clothes as I stood and headed outside to my car. I made a quick detour home to change out of my borrowed sweatpants and t-shirt and my now stinky socks. Once I was presentable, I swung by a bakery to pick up a box of nice pastries and then plugged the address for the Coast Guard base into my phone and was soon trundling along the lake. The water was still a bit choppy from the storm, but there were plenty of boats out and about, taking advantage of the high winds.
I couldn’t drive right down to the base without a special parking pass, but I found some street parking nearby and got out to walk, sweating under my lightweight blazer. I followed the sloping road down through the security gate and over to the harbor. The Coast Guard base was sectioned off from the rest of the harbor, and boats of all shapes and sizes lined its docks while even more bobbed further out in the water. People in blue uniforms rushed around the place with no wasted motion or time. Everyone had a task to do and knew the exact best way to do it. I envied that efficiency. I always seemed to take a very circuitous route to the solution and confused myself along the way.
I reached out and stopped one of the officers, though I didn’t know how to read all her pins to tell her rank. “Excuse me? Could you point me toward Linda Reyes?”
“What’s your business with the CO?” the woman asked, sounding a li
ttle uncertain as she looked me up and down. I definitely looked like a civilian, and I realized that with the pink pastry box in my hands, I probably also looked like a suitor, and I colored a bit.
“She’s helping me out with a work thing. I just wanted to say thank you.” I lifted the box slightly and smiled.
“I can take you to her, I suppose,” the woman said, coming to a decision slowly. “She’s very busy, though. I can’t promise she’ll have time to meet with you.”
“That’s okay. It’ll just take a minute.”
She nodded tightly and motioned for me to follow her, leading me toward one of the larger ships tied up in the harbor. It took up almost an entire dock and towered over me, casting a long shadow across my face as we got closer. I tilted my head back to look up at it and whistled quietly, impressed.
We walked up a long gangplank to reach the main deck. I barely had time to glance around before my guide opened a metal door and took me inside the ship. It was almost cold in the hallway, surrounded by all that metal, and I craned my neck to take a good look around as I hurried to keep up with the woman’s fast pace. I quickly became turned around because the hallways seemed to fold up on each other, but it wasn’t long before we stopped outside another metal door with a plaque on it that read “CO.”
My guide rapped on it and then stood back, hands folded smartly behind her back while she waited for an answer. Meg Shoals swung the door open. Her eyes landed briefly on the officer and then more fully on me, standing further back, and surprise lit across her face.
“This man says he’s here to speak with the CO?” my guide said.
“Of course. Jace—Agent Greyson. Come on in.” Meg stepped back and gestured for me to enter.
“Jace is fine,” I told her as I moved past her, catching just the faintest hint of citrus perfume.
Linda sat behind her desk, a stack of maps laid out before her. She looked up as I entered, and Meg shut the door behind me. Linda smiled and stood, rounding her desk to stretch out her hand to me. I juggled the pastry box into one arm so I could take it, her palm warm and calloused against mine.
“Jace, what can I do for you?” Linda asked while Meg moved to stand behind her.
I held out the box of treats. “I came to say thank you for all your help this morning. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Linda took the box and opened the lid a crack to peer inside, a smile curling her lips at the sight of all the pastries there. “I’m sorry it didn’t lead us to Ward.”
“So are we,” I admitted. “But the man is actually connected to the drug kingpin Ramirez is trying to track down, so some good still came of it.”
“I’m glad.” Linda set the box down on her desk on top of all the maps, and Meg slipped forward to take a look inside as well, licking her lips. I’d spared no expense on the pastries.
“Do you have any more leads?” Linda asked.
“We’re working to track down Frances Dowell, Ward’s old partner,” I informed her. “We know of two of his contacts—Rick Mann and Sasha Richards—and we’re trying to get ahold of John Amherst as well, the marshal in charge of the original investigation. You haven’t run into him at any point, have you?”
“John Amherst?” Linda asked and drummed her fingers against her chin. “It doesn’t ring a bell. Sasha Richards, though…” She pulled at her lip as she thought about the name. “Damn, it’s right there, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Cal, our lab tech, is running the names. Hopefully, they’ll have something for us soon,” I added.
“We’ll keep digging on our end,” Linda promised. She tapped the lid of the pastry box with her fingernail. “Thanks for these. You didn’t have to—we’re happy to help—but I never turn down baked goods.”
“It was the least I could do. Alright. We’ll talk later.” I waved goodbye and turned toward the door, but paused with it halfway open. “Uh, how do I get back to the deck?”
“I walk you out,” Meg said, grinning. She shot a pointed look at the pastries and then up at Linda. “Don’t eat all of those without me, okay?”
“I make no promises,” Linda said and winked.
Meg shook her head as we stepped out into the hall, and she shut the door. “I should’ve taken one for the journey. There’ll be none left when I get back.”
“We’ll just have to hurry then,” I said with a laugh.
And hurry, we did. Meg walked faster than anyone I’d ever met, but hardly seemed to notice that she was moving so quickly. She swept confidently down the corridors, and I struggled a little to keep up even though my legs were a good deal longer.
The sun blinded me when she pushed open the door to the outside, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes, squinting painfully against the glare.
“I assume you can find your way off the ship from here?” Meg said with a lightly mocking note in her vote. “You just go down. You can’t mess it up.”
“I don’t know,” I said, making a show of looking around for the gangplank. “That sounds like a tall order. But I’ll manage somehow. You’ve got pastries to get back to, after all.”
“I do,” Meg agreed, laughing. Before she left, though, she reached out and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Tell Rachel that we’re pulling for her, yeah? We’re in it until the end.”
“I will,” I promised. “And thank you.”
Her fingers slipped from mine, leaving my hand slightly cold despite the warmth of the day, and I watched as she disappeared back inside the ship. Two people almost barreled right into me while I stood there, woolgathering, so I pulled myself together and hurried down the gangplank, thinking that the ropes along the railings were far too slim to support a person if they stumbled.
I made my way back to my car and returned to the MBLIS office. Graham’s rental was still gone, and again, I wondered where she was off to, but Rachel had returned, her car parked a little haphazardly at the front of the lot. I frowned to look at it. I thought she’d gone home to rest. What was she doing back here? Alarm shot through me. Had she gotten more bad news?
I rushed through the side door and into the office, glancing around for Rachel. Her door was shut, though I could see a slip of light from between the blinds. Lex caught my eyes as I came in and shook her head, flicking her eyes toward Rachel’s closed door.
I hurried over to our desks. “What is it?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but she’s livid,” Lex explained. She kept her voice low, and I leaned in to hear her properly. “She stormed in here about ten minutes ago and went straight to her office. It’s probably a good thing Graham’s gone. Otherwise, I think there would have been a fistfight.”
“She didn’t say anything?” I asked.
Lex shook her head. “Nothing.”
I looked at Rachel’s office, trying to glean something, anything, through the drawn blinds and closed door. “I thought she was going home to rest.”
“I guess not.” Lex’s phone dinged, and she flipped it over to check the notification. “Looks like Cal’s got something. Guess they couldn’t walk fifteen feet to tell us this in person!” She shouted that last bit at the stairs.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Cal called. “Just come on.”
“Shall I get Rachel?” I asked. Or did we make sure Cal had something actionable before we disturbed her and risked giving her even more disappointment? Lex clearly had the same thought, and she shrugged a shoulder.
“Your call.”
Of course it was.
“I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t start without us.”
“Good luck,” Lex said and grimaced. She rose and headed for Cal’s lab while I walked up to Rachel’s door.
I knocked lightly. “Rachel? It’s Jace. Can I come in?”
“Sure,” came Rachel’s slightly cracked response. “One second.”
I tried the knob, but it was locked, and I had to wait for her to open it from the other side. Her eyes were red, deep circles underneath, and
the lines around her mouth were more pronounced than usual, aging her fifteen years. Her hair was pulled back from her face in an uneven ponytail, and there was a single smear of eyeliner left under her left eye from where she’d tried to wipe it away, but the black had clung on stubbornly.
Lingering anger warred in the pits of her eyes with overwhelming exhaustion, and she swayed on her feet, looking ready to drop. I wished she’d stayed at home to rest like she said she would. She couldn’t help Malia if she wore herself into the ground.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
Rachel flapped her hand. Her light blue nail polish was chipped beyond repair. “Had a fight with Jack. I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine. She looked five seconds from crumbling to pieces, but it seemed like she wanted to continue on like normal, so I would follow her lead on that.
“Cal might have something for us. Do you want to come and hear his report?” I asked.
Rachel brightened, a spark returning to her eyes, pushing back against the tide of darker emotions along the edges. She nodded, and as we walked toward the stairs, I took her through my little covert mission into Graham’s makeshift office.
“That was smart,” Rachel said once I was finished. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it while I was in there. I guess I was too busy yelling at her.”
The two of us joined Cal and Lex by the computer monitors. Cal had popped a bag of popcorn and had little bowls set out for all of us. I had yet to figure out where Cal stashed all this food in the lab, though not for lack of trying.
“Alright,” Cal said once we were seated, speaking through a mouthful of popcorn. “Here’s what I’ve found. That phone number of Amherst’s hasn’t been in service for a year, so we’re not getting ahold of him that way. But what’s odd is that all his service records are sealed and redacted.”