Dangerous Games

by Tess Diamond

  Panic could change a person. It robbed them of rational thought.

  Panic could turn a man into a murderer.

  “I do have the report from the lab about the ransom video,” Paul said, pulling it up on his tablet. “They can’t tell us much about the location.” He scrolled down the page. “But they did identify some bugs in the background.”

  “Bugs?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, they’re some kind of water beetle,” Paul said. “It could mean Kayla’s being held near water.”

  “DC was built on a swamp,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “That’s not going to really narrow our search area. We need something more than that.”

  “I’ll get the lab to get some entomologists on it. Maybe the water beetle is found only in certain spots. But it’s a long shot,” said Paul.

  “We’ll take what we can get,” Maggie replied. Paul handed her the tablet and she began to look over the report herself, hoping something would leap out at her. But it was a whole lot of nothing. Common drywall, nondescript floors . . . even the sleeping bag was a generic one from Target. No indicators at all where he was keeping Kayla except for the beetles. Maggie’s fingers clenched around the tablet. She wanted to throw it across the room and watch it shatter into a million pieces, but instead, she handed it back to Paul.

  The double doors of the conference hall burst open, and a junior officer rushed in. “Ms. Kincaid!” He charged over to her, panting. “We found his car, ma’am. It looks like he hit the highway before you called for their closure; then he pulled off on the Hamilton Street exit.”

  “Was there anything inside?” Maggie asked urgently.

  “His cell phones, minus the SIM cards. They were smashed to pieces. Your field techs showed up just as I was leaving to tell you.”

  “Jessa,” Maggie said, pointing to the spiky-haired tech to her right. “Please go with this officer and oversee the techs going through the car. I want every part of that vehicle examined. Make sure they test everything down to the dirt in the tire treads, and I want to know everywhere it’s gone. Look for hair strands, fingernails, anything that might give us some DNA. We need to know if Kayla’s been inside it.”

  “I’m on it,” Jessa said, following the officer out of the room.

  So Grayson had a backup vehicle. How well prepared was this guy? How far had he thought ahead? Maggie rubbed at her wrists, trying to follow the path through the maze Grayson had led them into.

  “What do we do now?”

  Maggie turned. It was Mrs. Thebes. Her eyes met Maggie’s, and Maggie saw the same fear that had been in her own mother’s face when only one daughter was returned safely to her. She tried to banish the echoing memory, to keep her face neutral.

  “We keep looking,” she told Mrs. Thebes.

  “What if you don’t find him?” she asked shakily, as if she didn’t even want to contemplate it. As if she was still holding out hope that maybe, even with her husband’s unwillingness to compromise, Maggie could bring Kayla home safely. Maggie wished she could give her more than empty comfort. But she couldn’t make promises—she knew better than to do that. If this ended badly, Maggie wasn’t going to add the pain of broken promises to Mrs. Thebes’ grief. She knew what that did to a person. It had eaten away at Maggie’s own mother, spiritually and physically. Once a robust, upbeat woman, she was now quiet, thin, broken. She’d done her best in the face of insurmountable grief and had been an extraordinary mother despite it, but Maggie wouldn’t wish her hell on anyone—not even her worst enemy. And Mrs. Thebes was clearly someone who defined herself as a mother first. It was her identity. Her calling. It was what she lived for.

  Kayla was what she lived for.

  “If we don’t find him, he’ll come to us,” Maggie said. “He’ll call us.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Maggie looked at the senator, letting all her frustration and anger bleed into her face. “Because the senator’s the only person who has access to what he wants. He won’t let it go.”

  Grayson would call.

  And Maggie would be ready for him this time.

  Chapter 26

  A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. With an unsteady hand, Max Grayson wiped it away, staring down the hallway that led to the room he’d locked Kayla in.

  He’d gotten away clean. That’s what mattered, he reminded himself as his feet shuffled back and forth, as if they had a mind of their own. He couldn’t stop moving. He felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, his nerves raw and sparking. God, what a rush. He couldn’t believe he got away. For a second, he’d thought that woman was going to catch him, but there’d been so much chaos, he’d managed to fight through the throng and get out through the back.

  Having an extra car waiting down the highway had been a lifesaver. You can never be too careful, he reminded himself, sitting down in one of the rickety chairs before jumping up and starting to pace again.

  He was exhausted but exhilarated. He’d pulled it off so far, and exposure was . . . well, it was a snag, he thought bitterly. That fucking bitch Maggie Kincaid had figured him out. He hadn’t counted on that.

  But he could roll with it. He had to.

  Max dug in his pocket, pulling out a metal keychain. He rubbed his thumb over the Harley-Davidson logo and held it tight.

  This is for you, Joe. I said I’d make them pay for what they did. We’re almost there, buddy. Almost home free. Just like I promised.

  There was a thumping sound from the locked bedroom. Max frowned, pocketing the keychain and walking to the sink to fill a glass of water.

  He unlocked the door, closing it behind him. Kayla had dragged the mattress pad into the corner farthest from the door and was curled up on it. There were sweat marks on the drywall where she’d been banging her fists, trying to get his attention.

  “Please,” she said, her voice cracking. “I need my insulin.”

  Max walked over and held out the glass of water. She eyed it suspiciously before her thirst won out. She grabbed it, but her hands—and her entire body—were shaking so violently she spilled half of it down her front.

  He didn’t relish this. She was a kid. He’d done a lot of bad things in his life, but he’d never hurt a kid. He wasn’t a monster. But she was the unfortunate means to the end he needed. He had no choice. He’d made a promise. And that promise was more important than Kayla . . . than anything.

  “You’re going to have to hang in there, Kayla,” Max said, taking the empty glass away from her.

  “Please, Max,” she said. “Why won’t you help me?”

  “You’ll be fine,” he told her, even though she was pale and sweaty, her eyes half-lidded and hazy.

  “No, I won’t,” she said. “This has happened before. I need my insulin. Please, just give it to me.” Her voice cracked with desperation, her eyes wide with bone-deep fear. “You don’t want me to die, right? You can’t ransom me if I’m dead, Max. You won’t get what you want unless I’m alive. I need my insulin to stay alive.”

  He turned away, steeling himself against the guilt rising in his chest.

  Joe, he thought, and just his name strengthened his resolve.

  “I won’t get what I want unless I apply some pressure,” Max snapped. “You’re going to just have to hold on.”

  Tears—part anger, part fear—spilled down Kayla’s face. She looked so small on that bed. “They’re going to find you!” she shouted after him as he stepped out of the room and locked the door.

  He doubted it. He’d been careful. He’d planned for everything.

  And now he wanted them to be afraid. He would hold off calling the senator. He didn’t want to seem too eager, not with the way Thebes was stonewalling him. You would think taking a man’s daughter would be motivation enough, but Max knew politicians were a special breed of scum. And Thebes was . . .

  Well, Thebes was a monster. Max knew that better than anyone else. And soon, the whole world would too.

  Let them w
orry. Let them wait. Let the press speculate and spin theories.

  Let Maggie Kincaid chase her tail for a while.

  Once she realized she wouldn’t be able to find Kayla, she’d be ready to listen.

  Then she’d realize who was in charge: him.

  Chapter 27

  They waited.

  Maggie picked up a framed photo from the side table in the senator’s library. Kayla was a little younger in the picture, twirling in a purple dress. She was beaming at the camera, obviously excited for whatever dance or party she’d dressed up for.

  That’s what Gretchen Ellis had been doing at Sherwood Hills that day, the day Maggie had failed her: shopping for a dress for her freshman dance. It’d been yellow. She would have looked beautiful in it.

  All of a sudden, the picture in Maggie’s hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

  “That was her first dance,” said a voice behind her.

  Maggie turned to see Mrs. Thebes standing behind her. The senator’s wife, even puffy-eyed and terrified, was a beautiful woman . . . stately in how she carried herself.

  “Purple’s her color,” Maggie said, setting the photo back down on the marble-topped table.

  “I wanted her to go with pink or green,” Mrs. Thebes said. “A pastel. But my girl . . . she likes to stand out.”

  Maggie smiled.

  “Why hasn’t Grayson called yet?” Mrs. Thebes asked. “You said he’d call. It’s been two hours, and we’ve heard nothing. Were you wrong? What if . . .” She trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. For several moments, she tried to regain her composure, still her shaking hands, and keep the smooth mask of elegance on her face, but she was failing, bit by bit, minute by minute, as her daughter’s captivity continued. Panic and fear leached into her face and voice, the fine tremor in her hands grew with each breath.

  Maggie wanted to reach out and reassure her, but she knew it wasn’t her place. She wondered who had done this for her own mother. Who was the agent that had comforted her, reassured her, while Maggie and Erica were bound in a closet, terrified for their lives? Was it as hard for them as it was for her to force the words out?

  “He’s playing games,” Maggie said. “What you’re feeling right now . . . the worry and fear? He wants us to feel that. He wants us to know he’s in control. He wants us desperate so that when he finally does call—and he will, Mrs. Thebes—we’ll give him whatever he wants.”

  “The file,” Mrs. Thebes said woodenly. “The file my husband refuses to give him.”

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “What about it?”

  “What will Grayson do if he doesn’t get it?” Mrs. Thebes asked.

  Maggie could tell by the stony expression on Mrs. Thebes’ face that she knew the answer already. But Maggie wasn’t going to tell her the ugly truth. She wasn’t going to shatter any hope that remained in the poor woman. “I can’t tell the future, Mrs. Thebes,” she said gently. “But it would really help if your husband was . . . more flexible about this.”

  Mrs. Thebes let out a short, harsh laugh that sent chills down Maggie’s spine. “My husband is not a flexible man,” she said.

  “He needs to learn to be,” Maggie said. “Fast.”

  Mrs. Thebes looked her up and down, a serious moment of examination that made Maggie shift, a little uncomfortable at the scrutiny. “I like you, Ms. Kincaid,” Mrs. Thebes said. “You’re a smart woman. A capable one. You don’t falter much, do you?”

  “I try not to,” Maggie said.

  “But you’re not a mother.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, ma’am, I’m not.”

  “That’s my daughter out there,” Mrs. Thebes said, fire in her blue eyes. “I carried her inside me. I brought her into this world, and my entire life has been about protecting her from it. Making sure she’s safe and loved. If you tell me the only way to get my little girl back is to get that file, I’ll tear the Capitol apart myself to get it.”

  “And I’ll be right there with you,” Maggie said. “But your husband might not be. I need something to go on. I need insight in order to understand Grayson’s psyche and goal. The senator has the access—so he has to start talking.”

  Mrs. Thebes nodded, her eyes narrowing. “All right.” She looked over at the senator, who was sitting near the fireplace, staring at the coals in silence, looking like he’d aged ten years in the last two days.

  “I’ll talk to my husband,” Mrs. Thebes said, stepping past her. “Oh, and, Ms. Kincaid . . .”

  Maggie looked back at her. “Yes?”

  Mrs. Thebes drew herself up, stately, queenlike, almost terrifying in her lethal regality. “If something happens, if you make a mistake . . . if my daughter doesn’t come home safe and sound, I will destroy you. Every part of your life, whether you deserve it or not.”

  Maggie let out a long breath. She almost wanted to let out an appreciative whistle. Mrs. Thebes stood there like a warrior, prepared to go to war for what she loved most. It reminded Maggie of her own parents. Her mom and dad would have broken the world apart if it could have saved Erica.

  “Fair enough,” Maggie said. If Mrs. Thebes wanted to play hardball, she’d lay out the reality of the situation for her. “You and I, we want the same thing, Mrs. Thebes. We want Kayla home safe. But your husband’s reluctance tells me that isn’t his first priority. You might want to think about that. Because if I were his wife, if I were Kayla’s mother, I would do all I could to change that. Immediately.”

  Mrs. Thebes didn’t stiffen in reaction to the shot Maggie had just taken—she was a politician’s wife, after all. A Jackie, not a Marilyn. She knew control, just like Maggie did. So her face stayed smooth, unaffected, as anger mixed with doubt simmered in her eyes. She turned and walked away without another word.

  “Well, that was friendly,” came Jake’s voice. “I could have cut that tension with a knife.”

  Maggie had been so focused on Mrs. Thebes she hadn’t noticed him break off from talking with Frank about extra security measures and walk over to her. She smiled weakly at him. “She’s just scared,” she said. “Parents . . . sometimes they lash out. This—” she gestured around her, to the agents buzzing around, the thick fearful tension in the air “—is every parent’s worst fear.”

  Maggie knew what Mrs. Thebes was feeling, how helpless she was, how she knew there was nothing she could do. That she had to let go of her control, let go of her daughter, and pray that Maggie was capable enough to bring her back to her.

  Maggie truly understood that swamping, all-encompassing dread and fear. It’d been her constant companion since Erica pushed her out of that hole, urging her to escape. Sometimes she thought that feeling, more than anything else, was what spurred her toward the FBI and her career in negotiation. She’d never be able to find Erica. She and her mother would never have more than a marble headstone set over an empty grave. But at the very least, she could help others. Prevent it from happening to more families.

  “I get it,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if I were a parent in this kind of situation.”

  “Arm yourself like you’re going to war and go all vigilante?” Maggie suggested.

  She’d meant it as a joke, but the expression on his handsome face sank her like an anchor on the ocean floor.

  “I protect what I love,” he said. “Whatever the cost.”

  The way he said it, the promise in his voice, the truth of the words, rocked her to her core. It was an innocuous, almost teasing statement, but the sudden seriousness in his eyes made her want to be the person he protected—loved—most. “You’re reckless,” she countered.

  “You like it.” His mouth quirked up teasingly. He sat down on the leather chesterfield, beckoning to her.

  After a moment of hesitation, she sat down, a few inches away, trying to ignore the heat radiating off him. She licked her dry lips, shifting, trying to get comfortable.

  “So, what are we going to do now?” Jake asked. “I can’t imag
ine your plan is ‘sit around and wait for Grayson to make a move.’”

  “Of course not,” Maggie said. “I sent a forensics team and the best profiler in the FBI to Max’s apartment. And I’m going to head over there to see what we can learn about him.” She paused, unsure. “Do you want to come?”

  Jake shook his head. “I wouldn’t be any help to you. I’m not a science guy, and the profiling stuff is better left to the pros, I’ve found. I’m gonna do a little recon with some local guys I know.”

  Maggie was a little disappointed, but she knew he was right. “You’ll call me if you get a solid lead?”

  “You’re the boss, Goldilocks.”

  She didn’t even bristle at the nickname this time. Instead, she had to suppress a smile, and didn’t quite manage to. “I’ll see you later.”

  She’d had one of the junior agents call her a car, since hers was still parked at the Adonis Lodge. They’d taken Jake’s SUV to the press conference. The walk down the Thebeses’ driveway was long, but it gave her a few minutes to breathe. The day had begun to heat up. The sun felt good against her face, and she paused for a moment, letting it warm her skin. But she couldn’t truly enjoy the moment. The situation was spiraling out of control, just like Sherwood Hills. She had to make sure it ended differently this time. She had to be cautious. Careful. Controlled.

  She wasn’t going to lose Kayla.

  No criminal was perfect, not even Max Grayson, for all his smoothness and trickery and planning. She would find the crack, and she’d chisel away at it until the case shattered open. Hopefully, there’d be something at his apartment—a clue to where he’d taken Kayla, some sort of hint as to what was in that file he wanted so badly. If the senator wasn’t going to volunteer the information, she would find it some other way—even if it meant getting it from the kidnapper himself.