Out of Reach: A Novel

by Patricia Lewin

  Alec couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the man was clearly agitated. Erin shook her head repeatedly and stuck out her hand. With obvious reluctance, the man gave her a large envelope, then threw Alec a look meant to maim as Erin headed over.

  “Thought you weren’t going to make it,” he said.

  “Disappointed?”

  “Nope.” He led Erin over to the desk. “I have a feeling we’re all a lot safer if I keep an eye on you.”

  She laughed, the first time he’d heard it, and it made him smile. Under different circumstances, he would enjoy getting to know this woman.

  They spent another couple of minutes checking in and changing Erin’s seat assignment, something he’d arranged while waiting, despite the full plane. Then he threw one final glance into the waiting area before following her down the Jetway. The other man had left.

  “Who was that guy?” he asked as they took their seats.

  “Jealous already, Agent Donovan? And we hardly know each other.”

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. It wasn’t the first time she’d used a throwaway line to divert one of his questions. So he kept quiet and buckled his seat belt. Sooner or later, he’d find out the truth about Erin Baker. He was a patient man.

  Then, as the plane taxied down the runway, she said, “He’s my assistant.”

  She was, of course, lying. Getting past airport security without a ticket these days—especially in any of the three D.C. area airports—was no small feat. Alec suspected it would take a bit more than a plea from someone trying to deliver an envelope to their boss at a boarding gate. It was just another indication that Erin Baker wasn’t exactly what she claimed.

  Alec let it go again, this time just until the plane was airborne, when she pulled a file from the envelope given to her by the man at the gate, and opened it.

  “Your assistant has access to confidential court documents?” he said, seeing the heading of the top sheet. “California court documents?”

  She didn’t look up from her reading. “He’s not really my assistant.”

  “No kidding.” Alec made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. “So, when are you going to tell me the truth about who you work for?”

  “You know the truth.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Dr. Baker. I know only part of the truth.”

  Ignoring that, she said, “I need to know something about Garth before going in there.”

  It was far from an explanation, but it was a start. It was honest. So he let her read, taking each page when she’d finished with it and reviewing it himself. He’d scoured the FBI files on Garth, but it couldn’t hurt to look it over again. Maybe see something new. And it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d gotten hold of information his files lacked.

  When Erin finished reading, she pushed back in her seat and closed her eyes. “He really is a lowlife, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And they gave him a deal.” She shook her head, her eyes still closed. “Hard to believe.”

  “I expect since none of the girls would testify, the district attorney thought it better to get him off the streets than risk him beating all the charges in court.”

  “You’re probably right.” She sounded tired.

  “You didn’t know much about him before this, did you?”

  She hesitated. “No. My mom shielded Claire, and consequently me, from his trial. And everything else having to do with Claire’s abduction, for that matter. She wanted us to forget it ever happened.”

  “Do you blame her?”

  “No. But it wasn’t possible. Our lives had been thoroughly turned upside down twice in a very short period of time. First when Claire disappeared, then when she came home. We’d lived for four years wondering what had happened to her, or if we’d ever see her again.” She paused, and he imagined her steeling herself against the painful memories. “I never would have admitted it at the time, especially to my mom, but I thought Claire was dead. And it was my fault.”

  “Your fault?”

  She turned her head against the headrest and gave him a bitter half smile. “I guess that part wasn’t in your files.”

  Evidently, he was missing a lot of information about Erin Baker. Something, he realized, he’d really like to change. Something he shouldn’t even be thinking about. Not now when all his focus needed to be on finding a missing boy and a serial kidnapper known as the Magician.

  “I was supposed to be watching Claire the day she disappeared, but I couldn’t be bothered.” She turned away, to stare out the small window. “I wanted to spend the day with my friends. So I bought her an ice cream and told her to get lost. And, well”—her voice broke, but she regained control quickly—“she did.”

  Alec squelched his automatic impulse to assure her of her innocence. Her sister’s kidnapping was not Erin’s fault. No matter what she’d done or not done that day. Unfortunately, he knew nothing he could say would do any good, or change her mind.

  He’d seen it a hundred times with family members of missing children. All the what ifs and if onlys. They never led anywhere, never changed a thing, but they seemed to satisfy some innate need to put the blame somewhere, on someone more concrete than a nebulous stranger. The only problem was it also tended to destroy marriages and sometimes whole families. At the very least it damaged the person taking the blame upon him- or herself. And he had to wonder what it had done to Erin Baker, what it had shaped her into, what she’d become underneath that tough exterior.

  He’d like to take her hand and offer comfort. Just the simple human contact. But that, too, like his earlier thoughts, was inappropriate. Besides, he doubted she would allow it.

  “Then the call came from the Family Welfare Office in San Francisco,” she said, obviously unaware of the directions his thoughts had wandered. “And everything changed again.

  “We were so excited, numb almost with joy. Mom and I flew out to San Francisco to bring Claire home, but she was different.”

  He could imagine. He’d seen Claire’s smiling second-grade class picture. And he’d seen the snapshot of the girl found in San Francisco four years later. It was hard to tell she was the same child.

  “I’d braced myself for Claire being older, taller, and I would have easily adjusted to that. But she was broken. In some ways we could see, but in ways we couldn’t, too.” She paused again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Only we didn’t know it right away.”

  “I’m sorry, Erin.”

  She smiled tightly and looked at him, embarrassed, he guessed. “You’re sorry.” She let out a half laugh. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You didn’t sign up to listen to me whine.”

  “Forget it.” He shrugged. “It gives me a better idea why you’re so intent on seeing Garth.”

  “Yeah, well, while my mother was alive, the focus of her life was getting Claire better. Now . . .” She shrugged. “I just figure it’s time someone looked into making the man who took her pay.”

  She fell silent then, and, after a bit, pushed back as far as her seat would go and shut her eyes.

  “It’s a long flight,” she said, her voice reverting to that of the cool, standoffish woman he’d met yesterday. “I’m going to get some sleep. Since you look like you haven’t slept in a week, Donovan, I suggest you do the same.”

  William was on his way back to Washington when the call came in on his secure line. His assistant answered, nodded, then handed over the phone. He knew before a word was spoken that it was about Erin Baker.

  “General, I have some information about the woman.” Even on a supposedly secure line, his men would be careful about using names.

  “Go on.”

  “She boarded a nonstop flight to San Francisco about an hour ago.”

  “Alone?”

  “No, she met a man at the airport. Tall, blond. A suit. Possibly a cop of some kind, could be a fed.”

  Donovan. They were going after Garth. William would have to get someone in California to
meet the plane. And take care of Garth. Whatever he knew, it was too much. “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Before getting on the plane, she talked to another man in the gate area. No identity, but we’re working on it. He gave her an envelope of some kind. Didn’t look happy about it. So we followed him when he left the airport.”

  “And?”

  “We lost him in McLean.”

  “You lost him?” William had no patience for incompetence.

  “He turned into Langley, General.”

  William let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She’d met someone from Langley. “Which means . . .”

  “Yes, sir, that would be my guess.”

  “Erin Baker is CIA.”

  The nonstop flight from Dulles took almost six hours, getting them into San Francisco a little after seven Pacific Time. Then it had taken another hour and a half to get a car and make the drive to San Quentin State Prison. So it was almost nine by the time they stepped into the chilly half-light of the prison, and a heavy iron door clanged closed behind them.

  Alec glanced at Erin, and caught the brief flash of emotion in her eyes before she shut it down. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked. “This is the man who held your sister hostage.”

  “That’s exactly why I need to be here.”

  Alec understood, better now than he had before leaving D.C. Still, he’d tried to change her mind on the drive from the airport. Not that it had done any good. He might as well have been talking to a wall. “Let’s do it, then.”

  The warden wasn’t happy about their showing up so late, but a quick call to Quantico had overcome his resistance. They were on a manhunt for a child abductor, and the investigation couldn’t wait for a more appropriate hour.

  They followed a uniformed guard down a long, sterile corridor, their footsteps echoing off solid walls. The place smelled of men and sweat, anger and fear, and the scent of disinfectant attempting to mask it all. They passed a small squirrelish man with a mop, who watched them without lifting his head from his work. Other than that, they saw no one.

  At the end of the hallway, the guard ushered them into a stark conference room, containing four chairs and a rectangular steel table, all bolted to the cold concrete floor. Two small windows, set high, were black holes in the dingy space, while the ceiling drenched them in green fluorescent light.

  Erin shivered and rubbed at her arms.

  Alec sympathized. The room made even the harshest of police interrogation rooms seem warm.

  They sat, and Alec opened his briefcase, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and a yellow notepad. A few minutes later, the door opened again, and a different guard escorted Garth into the room. He wore leg and wrist irons, and the guard shoved him into the lone chair across from Erin and Alec, released one of his hands, and cuffed the other to an iron ring on the table.

  Garth’s eyes flicked over Erin, then dismissed her.

  Too old, Alec suspected, and the thought made him want to pummel the creep. “Thank you,” Alec said to the guard.

  “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

  Alec nodded, waiting until they’d left before turning his attention to Garth.

  “I’m Special Agent Alec Donovan,” he said while resting his hand on the carton of cigarettes. “I have some questions.”

  “So? Why else would you be here?”

  Alec tossed a single pack of cigarettes to the inmate. “As a gesture of goodwill.”

  Garth snatched the pack, but took his time opening it and lighting up. After his first long drag, he said, “So, what’s the FBI want from me?”

  Alec took out a picture of Claire, the way she’d looked the day the police found her in this asshole’s den—much older than her twelve years. “Recognize this girl?”

  Garth shrugged. “Can’t say that I do.”

  “But you can’t say that you don’t, either?”

  In answer, he took a deep drag of the cigarette and blew it out in Erin’s direction. “Who’s the woman?”

  “I’m Dr. Baker,” Erin answered, though Alec had specifically forbidden her to speak. Not that he expected her to take his orders. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.

  “A shrink?”

  “Tell me about the girl,” Alec said, reclaiming Garth’s attention.

  He shook his head. “Nothing to tell.”

  “She was found in your house the day you were busted.”

  “How about that.”

  “She was twelve, and the oldest of three girls living with you.”

  “Crazy kids. Must have broken in.”

  “You cut a deal with the DA.” Alec scooted forward in his chair. “He dropped the kidnapping charges in exchange for a guilty plea on the drug charges.”

  “See, you remember more than me.”

  Alec snorted in disgust and sat back, feigning resignation. He was tired and irritable and not in the mood for games. Garth, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on them. Well, Alec was about to blow him out of the water.

  “You like little girls, Roland?” Alec smiled, one man to the other, sharing a secret.

  Roland grinned, but shook his head. He wasn’t admitting to anything. “Do you?”

  “How would that information go over here?” Alec asked. “If say . . . the rumor got out somehow?”

  Not real quick on the uptake, Garth frowned. But once he got it, he responded every bit as strongly as Alec had hoped. “Hey, look at her.” Garth shoved the picture back across the table. “She don’t look like no little girl to me.”

  “Then you do remember her.”

  He backed off, considered, then came to a decision. “Yeah, yeah. I remember her.”

  “Did you grab her?”

  “Hell no. Just like I told the cops, I found her on the streets, gave her a place to live.”

  “Out of the goodness of your heart?”

  Garth shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “Yeah, we heard this story before, and I’m not buying it.” Alec leaned forward again, arms on the table. “Now I’m going to ask you again. Did you grab her?”

  Garth hesitated, his eyes flicking to Erin again before coming back to Alec. “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “I already answered that question.”

  “And this don’t change nothing?”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to you, Roland. All I want is the man who grabbed this girl. You give me that, and I walk out of here a happy man. So, did you grab her?”

  “No. I bought her.”

  Alec’s stomach tightened, and he fought the urge to look at Erin. Nothing in her file of abstract facts could have prepared her for hearing those words from Garth.

  “You bought her?” Erin asked, her voice cold. Hard.

  This time Alec had to look at her, but what he saw surprised him. Instead of the face of an outraged sister, he saw a stoic facade, a look almost of detachment, as if Garth was talking about something distasteful but unconnected to her.

  Recovering quickly, Alec turned back to Garth. “Who sold her to you?”

  Garth backed up, hands in the air. “No way in hell, man.”

  “Look, you’ve already got your deal from the DA. All I want is the man who snatched this girl off the streets.”

  “I said, no way.”

  Alec waited, knowing his silence would eat at the inmate faster than words. Garth already knew the consequences of denying Alec. Now he’d just have to decide which fate was worse.

  “Besides, I don’t know who grabs them. I got her from a . . . you know . . . middleman.”

  “How?”

  “If I tell you that, I’m dead.”

  “If you don’t, I expect you’re dead anyway.” Pedophiles were the lowest of the lows, even in prison. “I expect you’ll become some big guy’s whore. If you last that long.”

  “Okay, look, all I did was place an ad.”

  “Where?”

  “Different pa
pers, depending on the time of year. The New York Times in the winter. Miami in the summer.”

  Alec leaned forward. “Tell me about the ads.”

  “I tell them what I want, and they deliver.”

  “You advertised for a twelve-year-old girl?” Erin asked in that same emotionless voice she’d used earlier.

  “Hell no.” He glanced at her, licked his lips, nervously.

  “A puppy. A bitch if you want a girl. Months to years. And different breeds, depending on what else you want.” He focused again on Alec. “I want a seven-year-old girl, I advertise for a seven-month-old bitch.”

  “So, you advertised for this girl?” Alec didn’t know how Erin was doing it. He could barely keep his own disgust under control. “Then what?”

  “I get an answer, time and date of where to pick her up. And where to leave the payment. I never see the guy who delivers her.” He turned his hands palms up. “That’s the truth.”

  Alec leaned back, thought, then shoved the yellow pad across the table. “Okay. I want the codes. I want to know when and where to advertise.”

  “Hey, it’s probably all changed. It’s been fifteen years, and it’s probably done on the Internet now.”

  “So, tell me how to do it. How to tap into this network.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Oh, I expect you can.” Alec shoved back his chair. “You write down what you remember. Then tomorrow I’m going to have a couple of agents in here to go over it with you in detail.”

  Garth started to object, but Alec spoke right over him. “If your information turns out to be good, then we got nothing else to talk about. If not . . .” Alec shrugged and pushed to his feet. “Then have a nice life. I expect it will be rather short.”

  Outside, the California night was cool and damp.

  They stood in the prison parking lot, Erin’s back to him as she leaned against the rental car to steady herself. She hadn’t said anything since they’d left Garth and the prison walls.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, mentally kicking himself for bringing her along. He should have found a way to keep her away from Garth.