Dangerous Games

by Tess Diamond

  The girls shifted in their seats, looking nervously at each other.

  “I really need to know,” Maggie said. “It could be important. She might’ve been with him or told him where she was going.”

  Adrianna sighed mightily, her blond bangs fluttering in the gust of air. “She started seeing Lucas Birmingham a few months ago. He’s a junior and, like, kind of a bad boy, I guess. Kayla knew her mom wouldn’t be okay with him, and her dad would probably blow a gasket, so they kept it quiet.”

  “Adrianna!” Becky hissed, glaring at her.

  “What?” Adrianna demanded. “We have to tell her the truth! She’s in charge. And anyway, maybe Lucas knows something! Kayla could, like, die, Becky. She’s diabetic. She needs insulin, remember? And that’s, like, if she wasn’t human-trafficked or something.”

  Bree burst into tears at the thought. Maggie barely resisted the urge to glare at Adrianna. Instead, she looked over to Miss Hayes, who was not impressed with her or the girls.

  “You don’t think that’s what happened to her, right?” Bree asked through her tears.

  “I’m not sure, honey,” Maggie said gently, grabbing a box of tissues from Miss Hayes’ table and handing them to her.

  “Miss Hayes, where’s Lucas now?” Maggie asked.

  The principal turned to her computer, typing in something. “He’s in the gym.”

  “I’d like to talk to him,” Maggie said.

  “Very well. Girls, go back to your class. You can follow me, Miss Kincaid.”

  The girls trooped out and scattered while Maggie followed the principal through the halls of the academy, which looked more like a museum than a school. Austere oil paintings of what Maggie suspected were notable former students—or perhaps very rich donors—hung on the walls, and trophies rested in antique, ornately carved cases. Everything spoke of wealth, control, and history. The gym was across a brick courtyard with a burbling fountain, in a large stone building that was more modern in design than the rest of the school.

  When they entered the building, they found students taking turns on a climbing rope. When the gym teacher—a short man with legs like tree trunks—caught sight of Miss Hayes, he hurried over, a look of apprehension on his face.

  “Miss Hayes, what can I do for you?”

  “We need to talk to Lucas,” Miss Hayes told him.

  Maggie was already walking toward the group of teens. A few of them had caught sight of her and were whispering among themselves. Halfway up to the high ceiling, the boy climbing the rope looked down, his eyes meeting Maggie’s.

  “Oh, my God, Lucas!” shrieked a girl as the boy lost his grip on the rope, sliding down a few feet before recovering.

  “Dude, be careful!” a boy shouted as Lucas swung back and forth, unable to tear his eyes off Maggie.

  She beckoned with two fingers, her face stern and all cop. This wasn’t going to be too hard. She could intimidate a dumb teenage boy in her sleep.

  Lucas, his blond surfer-boy locks swinging, finally looked away and slid down the rope to the floor, rubbing his hands against his gym uniform as he ambled toward Maggie.

  “Rope burn’s not fun, Birmingham,” she said. “You should be more careful. You need to come with me.”

  He squared his shoulders, all teenage-boy cockiness, magnified tenfold by privilege and money. “Who’re you? If you’re a cop, you’ve got to tell me. And then I’m calling my father’s attorneys. I don’t have to talk to you without them.”

  “Someone’s mighty defensive.” Maggie folded her arms across her chest, staring him down.

  “What is it? Got some weed in your locker? Worried I’m here to bust you?”

  He frowned, looking over his shoulder at the rest of his gym class.

  “Let’s go into the hall,” Maggie said. And the kid nodded, following her out of the gym.

  “So you’re not here about the thing at the mall?” he asked sheepishly.

  “What thing at the mall?”

  “It was just a prank some guys and I pulled. Shoplifting stupid stuff. You know.”

  “A prank,” Maggie echoed.

  “It wasn’t a big deal! It wasn’t even a lot of stuff.”

  “How about we put aside your ‘prank’—for now,” Maggie said. “And talk about Kayla.”

  He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking confused. He was obviously not the brightest bulb. “Kayla’s missing,” he said. “Adrianna told me.”

  Maggie made a note to get one of the FBI techs to shut down Adrianna’s social media accounts right away. Some teenagers needed to be saved from themselves. “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” he said earnestly, sounding believable. “I’d tell you if I knew. I’ve been kind of worried about her lately.”

  “Why were you worried?” Maggie asked.

  Lucas bit his lip.

  “I can always inform the local PD about your little shoplifting spree, Lucas,” Maggie reminded him. He looked down and scowled. Then he sighed and started talking.

  “Kayla and I, we’ve been dating a while, you know? We’ve gotten close. Shared stuff.”

  “All boyfriend-girlfriend and Facebook official,” Maggie said. “Got it. But why have you been worried about her?”

  “Well, a couple of weeks ago, she showed up to one of our dates really late. I was kinda pissed because we missed the movie, but then she started crying. Really hard. I’ve seen her cry at those stupid mushy movies she makes me watch, but nothing like this. She didn’t want to talk about it at first, but she was so upset she finally caved. It was her dad again.”

  “Again?” Maggie interrupted.

  Lucas shrugged. “I know they put up this great front, the senator’s all family-friendly and crap. And Kayla and her mom are tight for real. But Kayla and her dad? They’re always fighting. Like, our entire relationship, she’s had issues with him, and he didn’t even know about me! And that night she was all upset, it was because of him. She kept saying he was a liar, but I couldn’t get her to tell me what he was lying about. So I just tried to, you know, be there for her. She didn’t talk about it after that night. I brought it up once, but she told me to drop it, so I did.”

  “Can you remember anything else she said?” Maggie asked.

  He shook his head.

  “And the day she disappeared, she seemed normal?”

  He nodded. “We met up between third and fourth period, like we always do. Her history class is right next to my English class. We walk together. She seemed fine. She said she’d text me after lacrosse practice, but she didn’t, because . . .” He trailed off.

  “Okay,” Maggie unfolded her arms. “You really should put something on those,” she said, gesturing to his rope-burned hands.

  “You’re gonna find her, right?” he asked as she turned away. “And she’s going to be okay?”

  Maggie looked over her shoulder, the earnest worry in his face made her heart twinge. He wasn’t the brightest, but she could sense that he had a good heart. He cared about Kayla . . . maybe even loved her. She smiled as reassuringly as she could at him.

  God, she hoped so. She couldn’t lose another one. She just couldn’t.

  As Maggie made her way down the academy’s steps and toward her car, the worry started seeping in. Kayla’s world was becoming real to her. On one hand, that was good. It gave her focus. Understanding. But it also made it harder to keep feelings at bay. This was a teenage girl. She had friends and a reckless boy who seemed to truly care about her. She had an entire life that she’d been ripped away from—that might be cut short. She was somewhere out there, alone and terrified, wondering if anyone was going to save her.

  Maggie knew all too well that sometimes you had to save yourself, but she’d be damned if Kayla Thebes would have to. She was reaching for the keys in her purse when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Miss Kincaid?”

  Maggie turned. The quiet brunette from the office who had chastised Adrianna for spill
ing the beans—Becky—was standing at the top of the staircase. She hurried down after Maggie, her saddle shoes echoing with each step.

  “Becky, right?” she asked.

  The girl nodded, looking nervous.

  “You were the friend that Mrs. Thebes thought Kayla was staying with last night,” Maggie said.

  “That’s right,” the girl said.

  “You said you didn’t know anything about her staying over.”

  “I promise, I didn’t,” Becky said. “I had no idea she was gonna tell her mom that. Honestly, if she had told me, I would’ve gotten her to come up with a better lie. She should’ve known her mom would call the head of the dorm to check in.”

  Maggie suppressed a smile. “Okay, so you didn’t know she was gonna lie. But you do know something else, don’t you?”

  Becky took a deep breath. “I saw her before she disappeared. It was right after school. We play lacrosse together and we were going to practice. But she told me she was going to Sutton’s—that’s the ice cream place on Maple Street. We’re not allowed off campus without an authorized adult, but there are ways to sneak out, even here.”

  “Can you take me to the shop?”

  Becky nodded. “Miss Hayes gave me permission.”

  Maggie’s face must have showed her surprise because Becky smiled. “My dad donated, like, an entire wing. She’s nice to me.”

  “That makes more sense,” Maggie admitted.

  “She’s not all bad,” Becky said. “I think she needs, like, a life outside of the school, though. Desperately.”

  Maggie smiled. “Work shouldn’t be everything,” she said, uncomfortably aware of how hypocritical that statement was, coming from her.

  The girl followed Maggie through the parking lot. Maggie unlocked the car door for her, slipped behind the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Nodding at the security guard, who hit the buzzer, she drove through the opened gate and out of the parking lot, taking Becky’s directions. Ten minutes later, she pulled up in front of a small building designed to resemble an old-fashioned ice cream shop, complete with old-timey lettering and an antique carriage with horse outside.

  “I know it’s cheesy-looking, but the ice cream’s awesome,” Becky said, getting out of the car. “And Kayla loves it because Mr. Caldwell stocks more than one kind of sugar-free flavor at a time.”

  Maggie followed her inside, pausing in the doorway for a moment. The black-and-white checked floor was polished to a high shine. Classic white iron parlor chairs and round tables filled the lobby. A smiling man was dishing out ice cream over the brass-trimmed glass counter, chatting with customers, as “The Man on the Flying Trapeze” rang out from the player piano. The oak barrels of saltwater taffy and other hard candy along the far wall of the shop looked exactly like the ones at the candy store where Maggie’s mother used to take Erica and her when they were little. Erica had loved taffy. Their mother always warned them it would ruin their teeth, but Erica said it was worth it.

  The summer they were taken, Erica was supposed to get braces. She’d agonized over it, begging their mother not to make her.

  You’ll thank me when you’re twenty, Mom had said. But, of course, Erica never got to turn twenty. She didn’t even get to fifteen.

  “Miss Kincaid?” Becky asked.

  Maggie looked away from the candy barrels, concentrating on Becky. “Sorry,” she said. “What was that?”

  “Kayla didn’t say who she was meeting,” Becky said. “I just kind of assumed it was Lucas. They can’t really hang out at her house. But I guess it wasn’t.”

  “Are you sure she was meeting someone?” Maggie asked. “Did she ever come here to be alone?”

  Becky shook her head. “She said she was meeting someone. Kayla’s not really an ‘alone’ person, you know? Except when she’s at the stables. She likes people. She likes to be in the center of stuff. She has a lot of energy.”

  Maggie nodded, taking another look around the shop. “Why don’t you order something?” Maggie said, handing her a ten-dollar bill. “I’m gonna check some stuff out.”

  Becky took the money and walked up to the counter, and Maggie turned in a slow circle, getting a feel for the shop. No visible cameras. Only two customers, a mom and her young daughter poring over the ice cream selection. She walked over to the large picture window, peering across the street at the dry cleaners and the vintage clothing boutique. No security cameras evident. Plus, the old carriage provided a convenient obstacle to visibility. The horse hitched to it was asleep on its feet, its head drooping toward the ground. Not even an avalanche would wake it.

  Kayla would have been comfortable here. It was one of her regular hangouts. Her guard would be down. It was the perfect place to snatch her. It was as good as being invisible.

  The unsub wasn’t just smart—he was professional.

  That could be useful, especially in light of Kayla’s diabetes. He had probably prepared for it—a comatose hostage isn’t nearly as useful as a healthy one.

  But it also meant he’d be harder to negotiate with, which made it harder for Maggie to find a crack in the unsub’s exterior.

  Pros don’t make mistakes.

  Maggie was going to have to trick him into making one.

  Chapter 9

  When Maggie pulled her car up to the front steps of the Carmichael Academy to drop Becky off, it was nearly two o’clock. Her shoulders were aching with residual tension, and she’d give up the contents of her bank account for a long bath and a toffee chocolate bar. But she didn’t have time to unwind—she needed to get back to the senator’s estate and run her theories by Frank.

  But first there was Becky, who had spent the entire drive back to school staring out the window, trying hard not to cry. Maggie didn’t have a lot of experience with teen girls other than having been one once upon a time, but she knew the panic of fearing for the safety of a missing loved one. Knowing they were in danger—or worse, that they might be dead—and not being able to do anything about it. The helplessness could choke you, consume you, until you were only a shell of the person you once were.

  Maggie reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, Becky.”

  “I should’ve made her go to practice with me,” the girl said, her voice quavering. “Told her not to skip.”

  “You did the right thing, telling me where she went,” Maggie said. “It’s going to help a lot.”

  Becky looked at her, her dark eyes desperate for any speck of hope. “Really?”

  Maggie smiled reassuringly. “Promise. Now get back to class before Miss Hayes gives me detention.”

  That made the girl crack a smile. She got out of the car and hurried up the steps. Maggie took a moment to reach over and grab her purse from the back seat.

  Someone knocked on the passenger window, startling her. A man bent down, and a flash of frustration shot through her when she saw who it was. Paul Harrison, her ex-fiancé. Guilt snaked through her irritation, and she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. What in the world was he doing here?

  She pushed the button to roll down the window, leaning out. “Paul, I’m a little busy right now. We can talk about my picking up my things later.”

  Paul smiled—that easy, comforting smile. It was so familiar, one of the traits that had drawn her in when they first met. Well, that and how he had tried his hardest that day to save both the hostage and the distraught heroin addict who was holding her at knifepoint. Although he wasn’t a seasoned negotiator, he’d formed a connection with the junkie in the fifteen minutes he’d spent trying to talk her down. He was in over his head that day, but he’d tried his best before Maggie came in to advise. His resolve and ingenuity had always been admirable. And he was easy on the eyes, if you liked the Captain America type—blond, blue eyed, complete with a dimple.

  Paul was safe. Comforting. But he hadn’t been able to understand the darkness in her. He’d seen it and he wanted to banish it, to love it away, not re
cognizing that it was the core of her: Good or bad, it made her who she was.

  “I’m not here about your stuff, Maggie. Frank brought me in.”

  Maggie had to admit that it was the right choice, even if it made things awkward for her. Paul’s attention to detail and rules made him a favorite among the more by-the-book agents, but his doggedness was what Frank—and Maggie—admired in him.

  “Did Frank send you to keep an eye on me?” Maggie asked.

  Paul shook his head. “Frank wouldn’t do that, Mags. I came to interview school security and brought a tech to look at video footage. How about that Miss Hayes, huh?” He mock-shuddered. “What is it about disapproving principals that makes you feel sixteen again?”

  Maggie smiled reluctantly. “She was pretty scary.”

  “Mind if I catch a ride with you?” he asked. “The tech is still going through the videos.”

  She wanted to say no because she knew it would be awkward—she’d make it awkward. But that would be rude. She didn’t mind being rude to Jake O’Connor—he deserved it, questioning her with such assured arrogance. God, who did that guy think he was? He’d seemed almost amused by her stern warnings. And she’d be rude to Jackson Dutton any day of the week—that man needed his ego punched down to size. But Paul didn’t deserve her rudeness, especially not after she’d broken his heart. She could still see the look on his face when she’d ended their engagement. It wasn’t even a surprised expression—that’s what made her feel most guilty. It was just a sad resignation that had told her he’d seen the signs maybe even before she did, but was willing to keep fighting.

  She wasn’t.

  “Get in,” she said.

  As they drove through the academy’s gates, Paul bent over to fiddle with her radio, and she had to bite her tongue, recalling their old playful bickering about music in the car. She hated the radio when she drove and fought the urge to remind him. There was no point in picking a fight now.