Midnight Abduction (Tactical Crime Division Book 3)

by Nichole Severn

  “Because my partner found her body.” A hardness etched into her expression, her voice dropping into level territory. No emotion. No infliction. In an instant, the woman who’d joked with him a few minutes ago disappeared. Nothing but the cold, distant, detached federal agent he’d believed her capable of being all these years.

  Confusion gripped him hard. “Whose body?”

  “Samantha Perry,” she said.

  He’d heard that name before. Why did it sound so familiar? Somberness overcame him, his hands relaxing at his sides. Recognition flared as snippets of memory of his and Ana’s first meeting rushed to the front of his mind. The first time he’d set eyes on her, she’d been partnered with another agent, but while Benning couldn’t remember her partner’s name, he could never forget Samantha Perry. Hell. “The teenage girl you’d come to Sevierville to find.”

  “They found her in the corner of an alley between two restaurants in Knoxville, discarded like a piece of trash three months after she disappeared.” Her eyes remained steady on his, but almost absent, distant in the way she never blinked. “I was assigned to find her. I promised her family I would find her. She was an innocent fifteen-year-old girl who’d been taken from school by a janitor named Harold Wood who worked there, but we couldn’t prove it. We searched his house, his car, the entire school. There was no sign of her, of her clothing, DNA, nothing, but her best friend swore she’d seen him on campus the day she went missing. The only proof that could’ve nailed that bastard to the wall was if her body turned up, but that wasn’t good enough for me. I needed to find her alive, but I was too late. I failed her.” Ana unfolded her arms, her gaze suddenly alive, the muscles across her shoulders hard. “She died because I let myself get distracted. With you.”

  His stomach dropped. A distraction?

  “The minute I got that call from my partner, I swore to myself I would never let my emotions cloud my judgment again. So yes, I requested the transfer, and as soon as I got it, I left.” She took a single step toward him. “Because every minute I wasn’t focused on finding Samantha Perry was another minute she’d been tortured, violated and alone.” Her expression smoothed as though she couldn’t hold back the exhaustion and effects of blood loss anymore. Defeated. “I can’t live with the weight of another life on my shoulders, Benning. Even for you.”

  Chapter Four

  She strengthened her grip on the splintered wood railing off the cabin’s back patio, staring out into nothing but darkness. Snowflakes clung to her hair and T-shirt as January temperatures dropped with the setting sun, but her heart rate hadn’t slowed yet. Of all the people she’d been forced to discuss her part in that failed investigation with, she never thought Benning would be one of them. Then again, she never thought she’d have to come back here.

  Her cover story hadn’t been all that far off from the truth. Her parents were still living out their happily-ever-after, only not here. They’d relocated back west a few years ago for the warmer temperatures and open desert. As far as she knew, her three older brothers were still assigned to their respective law enforcement agencies, but it’d been years since she’d talked to or seen any of them, and right now she ached for that anchor. For something—someone—to keep her from getting dragged below the crushing weight she’d carried for the past seven years. Her family had tried to keep her head above water, but in the end, they’d realized there’d been nothing they could do to convince her Samantha Perry’s death wasn’t her fault. She’d have to live with that for the rest of her life.

  It wasn’t until Director Pembrook approached her in Washington a year ago—offered to give her a chance at redemption—that Ana had considered coming within one hundred miles of Sevierville. Because the truth was, leaving Benning had been one of the hardest decisions she’d ever had to make, even if it had been for the right reasons. Which didn’t make sense. They’d only been seeing each other for a few months while she’d worked the Perry investigation, not nearly long enough to develop anything lasting. But she couldn’t deny those short few months had changed everything.

  The sliding glass door protested against the metal track from behind, but she didn’t have the energy to face him yet. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she studied the patterns her exhales made in front of her mouth. No matter what’d happened between them or how close to the surface her emotions seemed to get when he was near, she still had a job to do. Protect him and his family against the threat and get his son back. That was all that mattered. “You shouldn’t be out here or anywhere close to the windows—”

  “Are you a spy?” a small voice asked.

  “What...” Ana turned to find Olivia huddled in one of the flannel blankets from her bed barefooted, a few feet away. Perfect ringlets of brunette hair framed round cheeks and bright blue eyes. Snow melted around the girl’s purple-tipped toes, and she crouched low to level with the girl’s gaze. She reached out, rubbing her hands up and down the girl’s arms over the blanket to generate some semblance of heat, but with the light sheen of sweat clinging to the girl’s face, Ana had a feeling the cold would have a hard time penetrating through. Curiosity bled into Olivia’s wide-eyed expression. “What are you doing out here? You’re going to freeze to death.”

  “Deflecting direct questions.” The girl cocked her head to one side, suddenly seeming so much older than her six years of age. “That’s exactly what a spy would do.”

  “I’m not a spy.” Ana couldn’t hold back the laugh escaping past her lips and reached into her back pocket for her credentials. Showing the girl her ID, she smiled as Olivia’s small fingers smoothed over the plastic protector of her thin wallet. “I’m a federal agent. See?”

  “Agent Ana Sofia Ramirez of the FBI.” Olivia’s smile stretched wide across her bruised face. “Cool! I’ve never met a federal agent before, but I read about them all the time. Detectives and private investigators, too.”

  “Yeah? Do you have a favorite?” Ana asked.

  “There’s a whole series about a girl Sherlock Holmes who solves crimes, but she’s pretending to be a boy so the police don’t know it’s her.” Animation chased back the dark circles from beneath Olivia’s eyes, followed by pride. “I’ve read all the books six times.”

  “Wow. You must really like reading.” Sliding her wallet back into the rear pocket of her jeans, Ana winced at the loud growls coming from her stomach. “You know what? I haven’t eaten in a while, and I was thinking of making some chocolate chip cookies. How about I make the cookies, and you tell me about all the other books you’ve read?”

  The girl nodded, then dragged her oversize flannel blanket edged with melted snow back into the cabin. Closing the sliding glass door behind them, Ana scanned the main floor, but didn’t see any sign that Benning was aware his daughter had escaped her room. She wasn’t a doctor. She didn’t have the deciding power as to how long Olivia needed rest or if she should be out of bed at all. But Benning did, and the last thing she wanted was to step over the parenting line. Tensions between them were strung tight enough. “Do you think your dad would like some when we’re done?”

  “He’s in the shower.” Olivia climbed to the top of one of the bar stools at the counter’s edge, the blanket falling from her small shoulders. Bruising darkened in thick patches across the girl’s pale skin, the stitches across the laceration in her head somehow more pronounced now. It’d been ten hours since Olivia and her twin brother had been kidnapped. Leaving only fourteen to get him back. “He doesn’t know I’m awake, but I didn’t want to sleep anymore.”

  “I see.” After pulling the dry ingredients from the pantry, a few eggs and butter from the fridge, Ana set them out on the granite-topped island. Offering Olivia a whisk, she set about measuring the ingredients into a large bowl. “Well, I won’t tell him you’re out of bed when you’re supposed to be resting if you don’t tell him how much of this dough will actually be made into cookies. Deal?”

&
nbsp; “Deal.” Olivia took the whisk from her and attacked the ingredients as fast as she could. Flour, egg and sugar flew over the edges of the bowl onto the countertop, her laugh rising over the sounds of the metal whisk scraping against the bottom of the bowl.

  “Okay. Take it slow. Slower.” Ana automatically shot her hands out to save what was left of the batter. But after a few seconds nearly the entire contents of the bowl were spread across Olivia’s stained pajamas, the countertop, and flecked into Ana’s hair. Just witnessing the brightness in the girl’s eyes after she’d had to suffer so much hurt lightened the persisting knot coiling tighter at the base of Ana’s spine. In the next second the girl pulled the whisk up straight, big globs of unmixed ingredients dripping over as her smile flashed wide. Warning exploded through Ana’s system. “No, no, no, no. I don’t think so. Olivia, I swear, if you fling that at me, you’re going to be in so much trouble—”

  With a flick of Olivia’s wrist, the batter flew straight across the island.

  Gooey pieces of egg and dried blobs of batter slammed into Ana’s face, then dropped down onto her clean shirt and the floor. Santa madre de... An exaggerated growl tore from her throat as she dashed through the kitchen to the other side of the counter. Feigned seriousness tainted her words. “I’m going to get you for that. I just changed into this shirt!”

  Faster than she thought possible, Olivia jumped from the stool and ran to escape, the whisk still in her hand. Grabbing a spatula from the countertop, Ana scooped a chunk of cookie mix onto the utensil, then flung it across the kitchen. Olivia froze, her eyes and mouth wide. “Bull’s-eye.”

  The next few minutes passed in a blur of flying cookie dough and laughs until both of them were too tired to move. Settling onto the floor, their backs against the island cabinets, Ana positioned the bowl of finished dough between them with two spoons. She fought to catch her breath. Over eight hundred hours of physically demanding firearms training and tactical operations, and she’d been worn out by a six-year-old with a penchant for mystery novels. Chunks of dough fell from cabinets across from them, but there would be plenty of time to clean up. Later. Right now they’d enjoy the sugar rush. The stitches in her side ached as her lungs struggled to keep up with her heart. “Whew. You, my friend, are a worthy opponent. I think you hit me way more times than I hit you.”

  Olivia scooped a spoonful of dough into her mouth. “I always win when me and Owen play Nerf guns. I’m a way better shooter than he is.”

  Ana set down her spoon. She’d been trained in child forensic interview techniques, the protocols running through her head. When it came to questioning children who’d been part of a crime or witnessed a crime, it was best to take it slow. She’d already developed a rapport with the girl, but there was a chance that not only wouldn’t Olivia want to remember what’d happened to her brother but also couldn’t because of the head trauma she’d sustained. Just as her doctors had diagnosed. “Can we talk about your brother? About what happened after that man took you away from your dad?”

  The girl’s chewing slowed, those bright blue eyes that matched her dad’s losing a bit of light. Sliding her heels toward her rear, Olivia went back in for another scoop of dough, but something had changed. Could she have remembered something? Hesitation and nervousness played strong across her expression. Her heart-shaped lips rolled between her teeth. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “Okay.” But it certainly looked like Olivia was keeping something to herself. “But you know not even your favorite Sherlock Holmes can solve a case unless she has all the information she needs. I would really like to find your brother for you, Olivia. For you and your dad. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “No!” The girl shoved to her feet, throwing the spoon as hard as she could across the kitchen. Those ringlet curls bounced off her shoulders as she dashed across the house.

  “Olivia, wait!” Ana ran after her.

  “Olivia, what are you doing out of bed?” Benning’s soothing voice preceded the rest of him. His damp, glistening bare chest reflected the droplets of water dripping from his shoulder-length hair. He lowered into a crouch to catch his daughter around the waist, dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans, and Ana’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Familiar blue eyes, immediately darker in that instant, locked on her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Sobs racked through Olivia’s body as the girl buried her head between Benning’s neck and shoulder, and Ana could do nothing but watch. Every moment of the fun she and Olivia had had together vanished in the span of a few words. “I don’t want to remember!”

  * * *

  BENNING CLOSED THE door to his and Olivia’s room behind him. He’d calmed her down enough to quiet her sobs, but nothing would settle the fear hooking deep into her head. She didn’t want to remember what’d happened when she and her brother had been taken, and he couldn’t blame her. There was nothing he could do—nothing he could say—to make his six-year-old daughter believe she wasn’t responsible for what’d happened to Owen, even if she had been able to remember something that would help find him. And he wasn’t about to push her fragile mental state more than he already had. Abducted, suffering head trauma, being shot at... Olivia had been through more in the past ten hours than most children experienced in their entire lives. How much more could he honestly expect her to take before she broke?

  Fisting the T-shirt he’d discarded before hitting the shower, he headed back toward the kitchen barefoot. Even with the self-imposed distance between them and the outburst from his daughter, he couldn’t get Ana’s words out of his head. She blamed herself for the death of that girl, the teenager who’d gone missing seven years ago. But deeper than that, she blamed him. Isn’t that what she’d meant when she’d sworn not to let her emotions cloud her judgment again? That the feelings they’d had for each other had caused her to lose focus? It’d taken both of them jumping into that relationship with both feet, and that made him as much responsible for her imagined failure. He and Ana had only been together for a few months, but those few months had been the most intense days of his entire life. He remembered every second of them, and the fact that Ana was trying to forget—to discount everything between them—knotted his gut tighter.

  Every cell in his body froze as he stepped directly in a wet pile of what he hoped to hell was raw cookie dough. The island in the center of the kitchen was a mess. Flour, egg shells, sugar and random land mines of chocolate chips scattered over the countertop. Bowls, whisks, measuring cups. The place resembled a battlefield, and there, in the center of it all, Ana attempted to clear the casualties from the cabinets. He couldn’t help but smile at the combination of small bare footprints and larger boot prints dusted into the floor. “Did you at least win?”

  “Not even close. But to the loser go the spoils.” Turning, she pushed her bangs out of her face. She held up a half-eaten bowl of unbaked dough, specs of flour and butter crusted into her hair, as she spooned a mouthful of sugar and butter past her lips. His heart jerked in his chest. In that moment she wasn’t the federal agent assigned to recover his son. Right then, she was the woman who’d gotten his daughter to laugh. That sound, the sound of Olivia’s exaggerated screams, had pulled him from the shower, but what he’d seen would be burned into his memories forever. Ana chasing his daughter around the counter with a spatula. Olivia’s wide smile that he feared he’d never see again after what she’d witnessed. For those gut-wrenching seconds, the kidnapping, the evidence he’d stashed on his property, the reason for Ana coming back into his life... It’d all disappeared. In a matter of minutes he’d gotten a real-life glimpse into the fantasy he’d constructed in his head. A family—his family—complete. Happy.

  “That right there makes losing worth it. I’d offer to share, but I don’t want to.” Speaking around her mouthful of dough, she studied the stains across her shirt, the dish towel still in one hand, and Benning couldn’t help but follow her
gaze across the long, lean muscle running the length of her body. Heat speared through him as the past rushed to meet the present. The feel of her skin against his, how he’d memorized every scar, every mole, with his hands. She hadn’t changed a whole lot over the course of the few years. If anything, Ana Sofia Ramirez had only become more beautiful, more...tempting. “Although, I’ll admit I didn’t think she’d destroy me this bad.”

  “You got hustled.” He hobbled to the kitchen sink to clean the dough off his foot. Trying to focus on the raw egg stuck under his heel instead of the reaction his study of her had ripped through him, he gave in to the laugh rumbling in his chest. “That girl asked me to teach her how to shoot my rifle when she was four years old so she could help the police solve crimes. The only way I can ever get her to calm down during a temper tantrum is to promise to let her listen to an episode of a true crime podcast. She loves the idea of saving lives and catching bad guys and has better aim than anyone else I know. She’s not afraid to show it, either. Next, she’ll want me to take her to the police station to ask if she can help solve one of their cases.”

  “Well, maybe I can give her a tour of TCD headquarters in Knoxville one day. You know, give her a chance to see what federal agents really do on the job.” Ana stilled, the weight of her attention pressurizing the air in his chest, but he didn’t miss the assumption there would be a one day for them. That she wouldn’t disappear from their lives after Owen came home, and his blood pressure spiked. She cleared her throat as though she’d caught herself making promises she might not be able to keep. Just as she had with Samantha Perry’s family. “You must be proud. She’s going to make a hell of an agent one day.”

  “That’s her plan, and probably why she opened up to you the way she did. I can tell she admires you, what you do.” Benning straightened, echoes of their earlier conversation replaying in his head on a nonstop loop. He tossed the paper towel he’d used to clean his foot in the trash beside the island. “So do I, to be honest. The work you and your team do saves lives. I know I already said thank you, but I meant it.”