by Amy Wallace
Slipping down the hill near the entrance road, he soon waded across the first stream and navigated around fallen trees with silent speed. Within ten minutes, he felt more than saw bodies surrounding him. Then his goggles clued him in on the three men approaching.
Once hand signals were exchanged, Steven continued west while the team worked north. They’d found nothing from the south up.
His breath came in fast gulps as scenarios ricocheted through this mind. Best-case: Two girls wandered this park, searching for a way out. Money could be traced. A specialty of the Secret Service.
Worst-case: Two dead bodies would be found and no money.
Steven crossed the main stream and moved deeper into the forest’s interior.
No. Far more formidable was finding no bodies—alive or otherwise—and the money left at the drop-off, mocking them.
No clues. No rescue.
Steven stopped to listen. A slight wind rustled leaves all around him. From the wet ground, moss scents clung to the air currents. “God, a little direction right about now would be good.”
The thought of being too late plagued him still. Given the vastness of the dense forest surrounding him, their perp could have slipped through the two smaller teams’ search grid.
To a timed pickup.
If their guy escaped, Steven would expand the search for accomplices. Starting with consuls and embassy personnel, even though the staff had already been interviewed ad nauseam.
A twig snap froze his movements.
Then he moved right, circling a wide arc toward the sound.
Infrared sensors showed one body, slight build. No others in radius. Steven watched. A trap set on short notice was unlikely but rushing in could prove a fatal decision.
The body stumbled toward him and doubled back again.
“Olivia? Jordan?” He called into the greenish darkness.
Muffled wails answered him. She started in his direction and fell.
Steven ran to her side. As he removed the hood and duct tape, the seventeen-year-old screamed like a newborn. “He took Livvie! You have to find her!”
“What direction?”
Jordan looked all around. Tears spilled over her cheeks. “I don’t know. I’ve been walking forever. I …” Sobs replaced words.
“It’s okay, Jordan. You’re safe.” He held the shaking girl in his arms.
The teen’s sobs subsided to a slow sniffle. “I want to see my mom.”
His cell phone buzzed. Steven pulled it out and prayed Clint’s call would mean they had Olivia and her captor in hand.
“Where are you, Steven?” Behind Clint’s voice he heard cars.
“About two and a half miles northwest of the entrance. I have Jordan. She’s scraped and bruised and asking for her mom. Let them know.”
“Ambulance is on the way Can you manage the trek out?”
“Yes.” Steven would have to break Jordan’s handcuffs before starting out. He searched for the right-sized rock. If she’d be still, he would manage the middle link and deal with the rest later. “Tell me.”
“Nothing.”
Steven’s chest constricted in a vise.
Too late by half was still too late.
11
Two days and nothing.
Maria sat in the command center at the embassy and watched the surveillance tapes of Victoria’s father. Her security detail would begin ten minutes past eight, bright and early Friday morning.
Victoria had requested a park trip today.
Not a chance. Public places with unmanned escape routes were off-limits for the little blond whirlwind’s foreseeable future. Thankfully, school started in a month to provide much needed socialization and structure.
Maria returned to viewing the tapes.
Service scuttlebutt said Sir Walter Kensington’s deportation loomed over the embassy like a thunderhead. No one on his detail would miss him. Victoria had no inkling. At six, she didn’t need to. But it broke Maria’s heart that the bright little doll she’d fallen for would have her world turned topsy-turvy in a matter of days.
Agent David Adams entered the command center and slammed the door. “Diplomatic immunity my …”
“Whoa. No sailor-speak. Please.” Maria cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Can you start over and explain your outburst?”
Agents around her continued their surveillance. The clicking computer keys didn’t even miss a stroke.
David twisted his wedding band and then played like a statue until the red in his face faded. “Between the FBI and the president. Sir Walter will remain in the country in his official capacity indefinitely.”
“Why does that steam you?” All other conversation in the room stilled. She hated having an audience.
“Because.” David clenched his jaw. “It means the entire diplomatic community will feel empowered to do whatever they …” He took a deep breath. “It sends the message that our government is filled with bleeding hearts who look at a man’s circumstances to determine justice.”
Maria studied her supervisor’s profile. She didn’t want to debate, but she believed Steven Kessler had good reason to allow the ambassador to remain in the country. International politics notwithstanding. Therein lay a powder keg she wouldn’t broach. “Sir Walter’s still under investigation. He won’t escape the consequences.”
“You sticking up for Kessler? Stand in line behind all the rest of the female population.” Other agents snickered as David took a seat behind his makeshift desk—a thin, ornate table from one of the embassy’s storage rooms.
Maria ignored the insult and focused on her surroundings as agents returned to work. “Jealous, Agent Adams?” Michael Parker, the token FBI agent left to keep watch over Sir Walter, stood to stretch. He grinned in her direction.
Get real, rookie. Not every woman had the hots for him. Someone should enlighten him about that soon.
Anyone but her.
Michael’s reputation preceded him. His loose lips had sunk any hopes of his being worth her time. Maybe Steven Kessler and his tall Texas partner would teach the new CACU agent a thing or two about manners and how to treat women.
“Why are you still here. Agent Parker?” David kept his eyes focused on the computer monitor in front of him. “Now that your boss has left our presence, this is Secret Service territory.”
“Cryptographic superiority maybe?” Michael stood at attention. “FBI ongoing investigation. Because I caught the ambassador’s e-mail deletions before you had your first cup of coffee. Take your pick.”
David glared.
Michael winked at her.
Her internal alarm said work duties called. With a sigh of relief, she exited the testosterone-filled room.
Victoria and her governess strolled through the embassy’s English gardens. High brick walls kept the public out of sight and Victoria safe.
Maria nodded to the other agent, John Reynolds, already posted. They shared this rotation with two other agents. Seniority gave Maria the plum assignment as the little girl’s shadow. And in the fall—the classroom with Victoria.
With the threat to Victoria’s life still at level red, four agents escorted Victoria outside of embassy grounds when necessary. Until then, two monitored the girl’s whereabouts from their office while Maria and John stood guard.
“Maria! You’re here!” Victoria yanked away from the stodgy old governess and ran into her arms. Maria laughed. Brit-speak continued to invade her thinking at times.
She returned Victoria’s firm hug. The policy of keeping a professional distance from protectees altered with children. In her mind, anyway. “Hello, Miss Victoria. How are you this fine summer day?”
“I’m very well, thank you.” Victoria crinkled her nose. “Can we play spies and escape my governess?” She whispered, “She’s a bore.”
Maria coughed back a chuckle.
“Or let’s go to the pool, Maria. You can swim with me.” Victoria grabbed her hands and danced in a circle.
> “Affirmative.” David’s voice crackled over her body mic. Great. Now all the testosterone in the command center would focus on her. In a bathing suit.
Agent Reynolds smirked and shrugged. No help there.
“Victoria, I think you and Mrs. Byrd should see if your mum would like to join you in the pool. I’m on duty, remember?” Not a babysitter. Or a lifeguard.
The governess led the trio to Lady Kensington’s usual retreat—her drawing room.
Relief coursed through Maria. No tantrums from Victoria and no bathing suit in her near future. Three decades—even with continual physical conditioning—hadn’t altered her JLo rearview. The rest of her genetics were gifts from her mama and papa. Black hair she didn’t waste good money coloring like the rest of her friends did. Smooth, caramel-colored skin that needed no trips to those awful tanning beds.
Victoria took her hand as they passed Sir Walter’s study. “Maria, will you teach me Spanish?”
“Hush, child.” Mrs. Byrd’s little black eyes drilled into her charge. The little Brit with debutante manners ignored her governess.
Maria knelt to Victoria’s level. “I wish I could, honey. But my mother and father felt great pride in their American citizenship, so we only spoke English in my home.”
Mrs. Byrd muttered as she continued her amble down the hall. “Americans do not speak proper Queen’s English.”
Victoria giggled.
Maria smiled. She hoped beyond logic that no harm would come to Victoria Kensington. During Secret Service protection or ever. The little girl’s family had already endured so much. One day, Maria wanted a little girl who handled life’s trials with similar spunk.
A little girl with Steven Kessler’s eyes.
Maria dismissed that crazy thought and walked hand in hand with Victoria. She’d seen the spark between Gracie and Steven. That meant hands off.
“FBI on deck, Maria.”
She wished body mic traffic could be squelched. David Adams must have sought revenge for her earlier comments by sharing inflated stories of her pleasant conversations with Steven.
Maria fingered the ivory rosary in her suit pocket while Victoria pleaded her swimming pool case to her mum. Had her grandmother’s gift kept her safe during her past six years with the Service? Having listened to Agent Rollins, she doubted that. But like Agent Parker, she questioned the relevance of organized religion.
Victoria continued to employ every sugar-and-spice word she could muster. Maria couldn’t help but grin.
“Very well, poppet. I’ll join you for a swim.” Lady Kensington hadn’t looked old before Olivia disappeared. Now she looked more like a grandmother than a fortysomething former debutante. A week of sleepless nights had altered that forever. Her blond hair remained pulled back into a plain brown clip, and her high cheekbones hinted at the woman’s staunch refusal to eat.
“I wish Livvie could.” Victoria scratched at the wooden floor with her tan sandal.
Lady Kensington straightened her white poet’s blouse and blue skirt. Then she collected her daughter in a tear-filled embrace.
Maria felt the familiar stirring in her heart. Surely this ordeal would end soon. For Victoria’s sake. And Olivia’s. Lady Kensington’s as well. Maria wanted to see the perpetrators strung up and Olivia safely in her parents’ arms.
Movement outside caught her attention. Michael, Steven, and Clint—the Crimes Against Children superstars—slammed the doors of Steven’s Explorer and left in a rush.
That had to mean a viable lead. She hoped beyond hope it meant Olivia’s fast return. Alive. Everyone involved with the Kensington task force needed another dose of good news to go along with Jordan’s safe return.
Victoria most of all.
Steven had to see the park again. Had to find something. Anything.
No news in two days could mean their kidnapper had returned to his games. He could demand more money. Inflict more harm.
Or they’d never hear from him or see Olivia again.
“Steven, the ERT has scoured the park already.” Clint nodded toward the backseat. “This is not a wise time expenditure.”
Michael’s key-clicking stilled. “Better than babysitting an irate diplomat.” His tapping resumed. “Besides, I’m breezing through my list of donkeywork as we go.”
“This perp isn’t worried about being caught, but he could have left a tell. Something. Every criminal makes a mistake at some point.” Steven drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, willing the stoplight from red to green.
“The fresh air will be good for us.” Michael was starting to sound like Aunt Bee from Mayberry. The rookie needed time off as badly as everyone else did.
“You’re grasping at straws, bud.”
Steven took a deep breath. “I need a lead, Clint. Now.” Sleep deprivation and adrenaline forced him into action. James stayed busy with Dad and Sue, so Steven had nothing to do but focus on Olivia’s case. Sleep escaped him when he tried to rest. Better to keep moving. Outrun the specters of guilt.
Clint looked out the window. “If we spend an hour there, will you quit and go home?”
“Maybe. Depends on what we find.”
Michael slapped his notebook computer shut. “The words are swimming. I need a break.”
“Got a date this weekend, Parker?”
Steven shot a glance at his partner. Clint smiled and shrugged.
“Nope. Thought about asking Maria Grivens out, but she’s pretty straight-laced from what I hear. I think sleep is in order tonight.”
“So Steven’s one up on you this weekend. He has a date. With Gracie Lang.”
Michael whistled long and low. “I saw the Secret Service background check. I’d skip sleep for her too.”
Steven clenched his jaw. “Want to take my place?”
“Nothing doing, partner. You need this time away. And you’ll go if I have to hog-tie you and deliver you to Gracie’s porch myself.”
Michael snickered. “I’d pay to see that.”
“Whatever.”
Steven turned right into Memorial Hill Park. Little kids filled the play area and runners took advantage of paved sidewalks and less intense morning temperatures. Parking at the head of a familiar-looking trail, he faced Clint. “I’ll go out on this date tonight on one condition.”
“I’m all ears.” Clint’s grin creased his eyes.
“You don’t breathe a word about guilt, God, or forgiving myself for being too late.” No way could his best friend manage that demand.
“Deal.”
Michael and Clint exited the Explorer.
Steven followed. “Just like that?” He joined Michael and Clint in swapping dress shoes for hiking boots, waiting in the charged silence for an answer.
“I accepted your proposition. Wanna spit shake on it?”
Steven shook his head. “You’re just going to use other words, aren’t you?”
Michael started down the hill, shaking his head.
“You’re a man of your word, Steven. So am I.” Clint pointed to the woods. “Time’s a-wastin’. You’ve got a hot date to prep for.”
A sweat-filled hour later, Steven kicked a dilapidated table near a clearing on the northwest side of the park. The HRT report confirmed that this was the drop site. Always one step behind. That had to change. He moved toward the road forming part of the park’s west border and hopped over the stream.
Clint joined him and looked up the steep hill. “Looks like your hunch is on the money No way he could have managed this himself. Had to have a car drop him off and meet him in a prearranged scheme.” Clint pointed into the thick greenery of ancient trees and full bushes. “He hiked in a good ways. Hard to believe that coming from a busy road with two bound teenagers no one noticed.”
“Too few people pay attention to what’s happening beyond their noses.”
Clint grabbed his shoulder. “Let it go, Steven. Even Maxwell said you did everything by the book and did it well. Jordan’s home.”
�
��Ryan’s not. Neither is Olivia.”
His partner exhaled a deep breath. “Compartmentalizing isn’t effective for everything. At some point you have to deal with the emotions or you’ll explode.”
“It didn’t used to affect me like this. Maybe I should think about retirement.” Steven kicked a rock at his feet.
“Not you. Not now.” Clint turned toward their entry route. “Go back to the basics, partner. Talk to your dad. He’ll say what I promised I wouldn’t. Maybe you’ll listen.”
“Maybe.”
“You know my deal ends tomorrow.” Clint slapped him on the shoulder and then ventured back into the dense forest.
Steven would deal with his best friend and his father another day. Another month, if he could hold them off that long.
He followed Clint and stepped over logs as they made their way back to his SUV in silence. He could talk to a trauma counselor again like his unit chief had mentioned yesterday.
Not yet. For now, he only needed to bring Olivia home. Once that happened, life might return to “normal.”
And he could go back to pushing papers like a good coordinator.
12
Steven doubted his sanity for agreeing to follow through on this date.
But a hot shower, a quick nap, and a game of checkers with James had helped ease the transition into the normal world. Where normal people went on dates all the time.
Michael did almost every week. His little sister, Hanna, dated some. Even Clint and Sara. And James had wiggled with excitement all afternoon at the thought of Steven going out with his new teacher. The teacher that his son talked about nonstop, day after day.
Steven reknotted his tie while he went over the evening routine with his dad and stepmom, pacing his hardwood foyer as he flipped the yellow silk. “Okay. The fridge is stocked, James’s bath things are laid out, and his pajamas are on his bed.”