Ordinarily, Grey would have respected that, but not now. “You’re not telling me everything that you’re thinking. I can handle it. Whatever it is.” Meet the truth head-on, his unit commander had said. You can deal with the truth. It’s lies that will defeat you.
She shifted her gaze from his. “No sense in saying something when I’m not sure.”
“You’ve already proved yourself to me. You don’t have to play it cagey. Spill it. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Okay.” Her eyes met his in a head-on stare. “From the start, this hasn’t unfolded like a normal kidnapping. There’s more going on here than a simple abduction. Someone wants you out of the picture, and he or she is using Lily to accomplish that.”
He chewed on that, not liking where the theory was leading. “You think Lily was taken to get me back to the States.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
What if Rachel was right? That he’d been the target from the beginning and Lily’s abduction was only a means to get him home? But what would anyone want with him?
Before he knew it, he was voicing his thoughts aloud. “Why? Why does someone want to kill me? Like I told you before, except for Kelvin, all of my enemies are back in the Stand.”
“That’s what we have to find out,” Rachel said.
He attempted to get up but slumped back against the pillow.
Shelley frowned. “You’re in no condition to get up.”
“I can’t stay in bed. I have to—”
“Get well,” Rachel finished for him. “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m going to pay a visit to the police and see if they’ve gotten anything out of our friends from the woods.”
* * *
Before Rachel and Shelley left the hospital, they found Grey’s doctor, the same one who had treated him after the explosion.
“Your friend was very fortunate,” the dark-haired woman said. “Not only did the bullet go through soft tissue, it also didn’t nick anything vital. We’re giving him antibiotics to keep infection at bay.
“He’s young and strong and should be out of here tomorrow,” the doctor said. “If he wasn’t in such superb physical condition, it might be a different story. I know I won’t be able to keep him much longer at any rate. When I learned that he’d cauterized the wound himself, I knew we were dealing with an extraordinary man.”
“You’re right, Doctor,” Rachel said. “He is an extraordinary man.” Aware of Shelley fixing a speculative look on her, she dipped her head.
The doctor stopped, took a breath, then continued on in her rapid-fire fashion. “By the way, how are your hands? I heard from the emergency doctor that they were in bad shape. You know to keep them wrapped for the next few days, right?”
Rachel nodded. She hadn’t thought much about her hands; she’d been too concerned for Grey. “They’ll be okay. Just a bit sore.” Actually, they ached horribly, along with her chest where her opponent had kicked her, but complaining about either wouldn’t do any good. The doctor who had treated her had strapped her ribs to keep the pain down and make movement easier.
“Take care of yourself and your friend. I’d like not to see either of you again for at least this week.” A quick grin. “You’re making me look bad.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Shelley dropped Rachel off at home to shower, change clothes and pick up her own vehicle. Grey’s rental truck was out of commission. The police were already taking the tangos’ SUV apart, looking for any evidence it might hold. She didn’t expect they’d find anything. The men were too smart to leave anything incriminating behind.
The bandages wrapped around her palms made driving awkward, but she managed. She wanted information on the men who had done their best to kill her and Grey.
She headed to the police station, then had to wait for Detective Lannigan to see her, so she spent a few moments looking around the station house. She was no stranger to police stations, and this one was no different from the others she’d been in. The tortured hum of an overworked air conditioner, the staccato-like clatter of out-of-date keyboards, the pad of shoes on vinyl flooring. The occasional raised voice punctuated the otherwise tedious tempo of office life.
In many ways the station resembled an FBI office, only Bureau employees were required to dress in dark suits. The thought caused a small smile to find purchase on her lips. She didn’t miss the dress code at all.
Detective Lannigan ushered her into his office. His rushed speech was even more hurried than usual, and he scratched his chin in rhythm with his words. “Sorry to keep you waiting. You and Nighthorse have kept us plenty busy, and I’m still playing catch-up.”
She let her silence answer for her.
Lannigan heaved a sigh. “Guess you’re here about those men you left in the woods. Fingerprints gave us names and rap sheets.” He took a breath, giving her time to absorb his words. He handed her a sheet of paper, giving their names and a list of arrests.
Rachel was grateful to have the information, but none of it gave any clue as to who had hired them.
“They’re keeping their mouths shut,” Lannigan said. “Either out of fear or because they don’t know anything.”
“From the look on the one man’s face when he told me about his boss, I’m guessing fear,” she said. “He’d rather go to prison than rat on whoever hired him. He kept saying the man who hired him and his partner was connected.”
Lannigan looked more grim than usual as he processed that. She knew he understood the import of it and why they were not likely to get any more information from the men.
“Anything in their rap sheets suggest they’ve had experience with kidnapping in the past?” she asked.
The detective shook his head. “Nope. Breaking and entering. Armed robbery. Felonious assault.” He read off a list of charges and included the name of the law office that had represented them. He whistled softly. “Big-time firm, the kind who make eight hundred dollars an hour for just a phone visit.”
“How did they afford that?”
“Probably some big shot doing pro bono work. Lawyers get brownie points with judges when they step in so nobody has to strong-arm some overworked public defender to take the case.”
“Why aren’t they still in prison with all that on their records?”
“They each served a few years, but their lawyer got them sprung early on a technicality.” His gaze was curious as it rested on Rachel. “Like I told you, they wouldn’t give up their boss, but they did tell me that they were set upon by six men the size of giants who beat them within an inch of their lives and then left them in the woods to die. And, by the way, the six men fought like grizzlies with rabies. If I were a mean kind of guy, I’d put it out in the county jail that they were taken down by a woman half their size and see what that does to their egos.”
She laughed for the first time in hours. “I may put that on my résumé. ‘Strong as six men who fight like rabid grizzlies.’”
“It’d look good on your company website.”
“Thanks, Detective. If you find out anything more about the men I so savagely attacked, I’d appreciate a call.”
He nodded. “And I’d be obliged if you’d do the same.”
“You can count on it.”
On her way to S&J headquarters, she mulled over what she’d learned. Not much, only that whoever was behind the kidnapping and attempts on Grey’s life had enough money to hire muscle and sufficient clout to frighten them into silence.
She’d do deep background checks on them, but she didn’t expect to find much more than what the detective had shared with her.
The investigation was at a standstill. She needed something to break loose, something to give to Grey tomorrow. It had been three days since he’d come to S&J looking for help. So far all she’d managed to do was nearly get him kill
ed in a runaway truck, blown up and now shot.
What next?
At S&J, she hunted up Paige Walker, a recent hire. Though Rachel was good—very good—at ferreting out facts on the computer, Paige was off the charts and ran circles around Rachel and everyone else at S&J. She came from the ATF and had a background in forensic accounting as well as cyber crimes. Rachel had heard that Paige had also been a top-notch field agent and had earned top scores in marksmanship.
Rachel gave Paige the men’s names and explained what she needed.
“I’ll get on it,” Paige promised. “When I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
When I find anything. Not if. Rachel smiled at the young woman’s total confidence. Her smile disappeared. There’d been a time when she, too, had been confident that she could get the job done.
She hunkered down at her own computer and went through both men’s backgrounds, looking for anything that might hint at their guilt or that could exonerate them. She started her search with Wingate Michaels. She hadn’t seriously considered him a suspect, but he had reason to hate Grey.
Michaels came from money and had built up a considerable fortune of his own. He moved in the circles of the upper class, attended the right events and made generous contributions to charities. He even worked pro bono for people who couldn’t afford an attorney, going so far as to occasionally visit inmates in prison.
Could he be the lawyer who’d helped their attackers get off with light sentences? That didn’t necessarily mean anything. Many lawyers gave pro bono hours to those who couldn’t afford it.
It didn’t fit, though. Lannigan had named the firm that had represented the two men—a different one from Michaels’s. She dismissed her suspicions about Michaels’s pro bono work and continued perusing the information on him. As expected, his record was squeaky-clean.
She moved on to Victor Kelvin, though she’d done a search on him previously. He didn’t have money and bore a deep resentment for the man he saw as responsible for his being kicked out of the ranger program. Kelvin had his share of penny-ante charges, but all they’d gotten him was a slap on the wrist and probation.
Where else should she look?
A nagging thought pestered her about something she’d recently learned. Was it something the detective had told her? Or something she’d read in her research on Kelvin and Michaels? She had a feeling that it could be important if she could only recall what it was.
The best way to remember something was to put it out of her mind and to let it come naturally in its own time, but time was a luxury she and Grey didn’t have. They were running out of that commodity if they were to bring Lily home safely.
Not expecting to find anything, she ran a search on Roberta Gyllenskaag. Active in civic affairs, a supporter of the arts, and a large contributor to charities, she was above reproach.
It wasn’t surprising to find that many of her interests overlapped with those of Michaels. So why didn’t Rachel like her or Michaels? Maybe because the woman was a world-class snob who seemed more interested in self-aggrandizement than in helping to bring Lily home, and Michaels was her lapdog who jumped at her command.
That wasn’t a crime on either of their parts. Vain and weak, yes, but not criminal.
Annoyed with herself for allowing personal feelings to interfere with an investigation, Rachel sat back and contemplated what she knew. She made a list, starting with the nanny. It was a practice she’d started while at the Bureau. Writing things down by hand helped her untangle a quagmire of thoughts.
Jenae Natter had probably been complicit in Lily’s kidnapping. Was she willingly involved, or had she been pressured?
She had a boyfriend who, according to Mrs. Rasmussen, liked to stay in the background. Because he had been the one doing the pressuring?
Jenae had been murdered. By the boyfriend?
There’d been no demand for a ransom for Lily. Why?
Wingate Michaels and Victor Kelvin both had reasons to hate Grey. Was that hate strong enough to cause one of them to kidnap his daughter? Had they somehow joined forces?
Someone, or a couple of someones, wanted to kill Grey. How did that relate to the abduction? Or did it?
For every statement, there was a question.
She knew answers existed, but she had yet to find the right string to tug to unravel the mystery. Were all the above related, or were they isolated events?
No. They were all part of the whole. She knew it. If she could find the answer to any one of them, she might loosen the knot that would explain everything.
Paige returned to Rachel’s office within the hour. “Found something. I don’t know what it means, but Victor Kelvin is heavily in debt for gaming loans. He has some bad people—and I mean really bad people—after him. They have the reputation of taking no prisoners and don’t care what method they use to get their money back. If they can’t, they make an example of the person who owes them.” Her face paled. “I found a couple of stories detailing what they do to anyone who crosses them. They weren’t pretty.”
“That helps a lot,” Rachel said. “Thanks.”
They were missing something, something key to solving the puzzle. She still believed that money was at the root of it. Did revenge play a role, as well? Money and revenge were a powerful combination.
She rolled things over in her mind, then returned to the list, drawing arrows between various elements. When that failed to reveal anything, she made a timeline of events, starting with the kidnapping and ending with this last attempt on her and Grey’s lives.
She went back and read what she’d written.
Michaels didn’t need money, but he obviously liked the high life, as evidenced by his clothes and his office. She had a feeling that if she saw where he lived, it would be equally as lavish as his office. He wasn’t one to accept second best—in his work or in his personal life. He was frequently seen at black-tie events, each time with a new woman on his arm.
Kelvin, on the other hand, had little money but had expensive tastes if the Ithaca Mag-10 he carried and the big motorcycle he drove were any indication. Then there was the matter of his gaming debts. He had to be desperate knowing what those who held his markers would do to him.
It could be that neither of the men in question were responsible. And where did that leave her and Grey in their search for Lily?
At the beginning.
Only she didn’t know where the nightmare began. Had it started before Lily’s abduction and the attempts on Grey’s life? Were they the by-product of a much bigger plot? Intuition told her yes, but she had no proof.
Was she willing to risk Lily’s life on a hunch?
What if she was wrong? Like she’d been the last time a child’s life had depended upon her.
ELEVEN
Rachel couldn’t prevent Grey from checking himself out of the hospital the following morning. His color was better, and his speech was no longer slurred. With his arm in a sling to protect his side and her hands wrapped with gauze and bandages, they made a pathetic picture. She would have burst out laughing, but laughing made her ribs ache.
“Anybody ever told you that you’re a stubborn man?” she asked when she and Grey reached her car. After climbing in, she pulled her seat belt in place but didn’t start the engine immediately.
He had leaned back against the seat, eyes closed. “Seems like I heard that before from an equally stubborn woman.”
“We make a pair, don’t we?” Then, realizing what the words implied, she quickly changed the subject. “I talked with Lannigan. He ran the prints of the men who tried to kill us and came back with names and rap sheets. They’ve been in and out of prison for years. Lannigan promised they won’t be getting out anytime soon after this. Two counts attempted murder is serious stuff.”
“They didn’t look like the kind of men who would hold out in the face of a deal
in their favor, no matter who they had to throw under the bus. What kind of hold does their boss have on them?”
“Fear. I think it’s the real thing. Nothing Detective Lannigan or I said budged them. They’d prefer going to prison rather than talk.”
To raise a smile from Grey, she told him what the detective had said about the men complaining that they were set upon by six enormous men who fought like grizzly bears.
His hearty laugh lightened her heart. “Your rep is going to spread far and wide,” he predicted.
“My rep.” She laughed at the idea, then winced. Her ribs still hurt. “I didn’t know I had a rep, but maybe this will give me one. It never hurts to have street cred.”
It was good to see the tension leave Grey’s eyes. There’d been too much worry, too much despair.
“Thank you,” he said.
She didn’t have to ask for what.
* * *
There, in the car, Grey studied the picture Rachel made.
The sun was behind her and lit her hair with gold streaks. The warmth in her gaze as it rested on him unnerved him. Was she feeling what he was? And what was he supposed to do? Ask her straight-out what her feelings for him were?
He was imagining things. The adrenaline rush of the past days, the drop of energy following each surge, had him seeing things that weren’t there. That was all. That had to be it. No way could he have serious feelings for Rachel. They’d just met a few days ago. He had no interest in a relationship. With Lily still missing, he had no right to even be thinking of a woman.
So when he found himself leaning in and brushing a kiss across Rachel’s lips, he was taken aback. It was the barest of kisses, hardly more than a brush of air, but he felt it all the way down to his toes.
What was he thinking?
None of it made sense.
“I’m sorry.” Startled, he backed away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
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