“She’ll want the one with pineapple on it.”
Luke laughed, the sound a bit rusty. “We’ll save it for her then.”
* * *
Mark fought the tug of the drugs. Someone had done this. Someone had wanted to take Sharon from him and had done it for money.
Sharon had to be okay. He wouldn’t be able to look at Benjamin if something happened to his mom because she’d married him. Sharon was out there somewhere. Who wanted money that badly? Who wouldn’t care who they hurt?
He worked for many who thought money and profit were everything, that the size of the home they built determined their worth, that the size of the company they ran determined their place in society. Was it someone he knew?
He started to think of names. None seemed likely, but at least they were names. He pushed the button beside his hand and held it down until Trish came hurrying in. “Paper. And a pen. Write down the names I tell you.”
She was ready to protest but he looked at her, his hand gripping hers, and she nodded. She tugged over a chair. “Go ahead, Mark.”
* * *
Luke shared a look with Caroline over Benjamin’s head, and she pushed back her chair and reached across the boy to pick up the last piece of pizza crust. “Come on, buddy. It’s bedtime again if you can roll that way. You ate like five pieces.”
Benjamin pushed back his chair and patted his tummy. “I’m really full. Can we have pancakes for breakfast?”
“To bed, you bottomless pit,” Luke replied, laughing as he lifted Benjamin to his feet. “Only good dreams allowed for the rest of the night.”
Caroline went with Benjamin to tuck him in with a story.
Luke picked up plates and cleared the table. He bet the boy would fall asleep before Caroline finished a few pages of the book. Mark was blessed to have such a good kid as a son.
Jesus, why haven’t we received a ransom request?
Twenty-four hours was a bad sign; by tomorrow there would be real doubt Sharon would be found alive. How was he supposed to carry his family if it came down to telling them that kind of news? Caroline would make it as easy on him as she could, and Mark would take it because he had to, but Benjamin—he’d lost a father to a tragedy and found the ability to open his heart to a second dad and love Mark. But if Benjamin lost his mom . . .
Luke washed out the rag and laid it across the sink. Even if Caroline did everything she could to fill the void, she would still only be the aunt Benjamin loved.
Lord, in twenty-four to forty-eight hours optimistic people will instinctively know it’s been too long. The optimism will fade and people will start to grieve. I have to do something to move things along before then. I need some hope; I need the phone to ring. And I’m helpless to make that happen. I need a miracle.
Tomorrow was Sunday: more searching, more waiting, more struggling to keep hope. It would be a rough Sunday.
Caroline came back to the kitchen. Luke turned. He wasn’t surprised to see the smile she had kept in place for Benjamin fade. She looked so burned-out. “Sit for a while.”
She pulled out a chair. “He’ll be asleep anytime.”
“That’s good.” Luke poured her a glass of orange juice and set it on the table. “You’re coping quite well considering.”
She gave him a tired smile as she rested her head in her hands. She hadn’t brushed her hair since going to bed earlier, and it tangled around her shoulders. The sweatshirt must be borrowed from Sharon, for the sleeves had to be pushed back lest they slide past her fingers.
“Can we talk?”
He pulled out a chair across from her. “Sure.”
“I need some answers.”
“I don’t know that I have them.”
“How are you coping?”
He blinked. “I’m okay, Caroline.”
“Mark is hurt. That can’t be easy to deal with.”
He pushed his hand through his hair. Tonight she wanted candor and emotions from him, and it was the last thing he had to give. Luke picked up his drink. “I feel guilty I got Mark back before your sister.”
“Luke, it’s okay to be relieved.”
“I about lost him once before to a fall at a building site. His life is proving more risky than mine. About the only thing I’ve done is get shot in the foot.”
“Jackie will never be able to apologize her way out of that, will she?”
He smiled. “It’s nice to have something to rib her about. And we at least caught the guy we were chasing that night.”
She spun the ice around in her glass. “Benjamin came home with only bug bites.”
Luke held her gaze, then leaned over and gently squeezed her shoulder. “He was really glad you were there.”
She leaned her cheek against his hand for a moment, then sighed. “Sharon isn’t going to be so lucky, is she?”
“I don’t know, Caroline.”
“Thirty hours ago we didn’t know what had happened; now we do. That’s progress.”
“And we’ll work every lead we have and find ways to generate more.” Luke got up, needing to pace. “They will be in touch, Caroline. They wanted money. No matter what has gone wrong with their plans, none of it changes the fact they still want money.”
“You’re going to get her back alive, too.”
“I’m going to try.”
“I hate this tightrope of waiting, with emotions that bounce from despair to hope one minute then back again.”
“I know. It’s going to get even harder tomorrow.” He sighed. “One word of advice? Don’t fight the emotions. Work through what you’ll do if the worst comes to pass, then let yourself feel hope and work through the steps you’ll take if she is found alive. You need this time to prepare for both. Because when we get a break in this case, things will likely move very fast. You won’t have much time to adjust.”
“How long before we know one way or another?”
He didn’t want to answer that but she deserved the truth. “If there’s going to be a ransom demand, it will come in the next forty-eight hours. After that—this is just a search.”
She blinked, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Thanks for being honest.”
“I wish it were a better answer.”
She offered a slight smile. “Hope or despair. For this moment, I’ll think positively. We’ll get a call. We’ll get her back alive. And if we get a miracle, she won’t be hurt any more than Benjamin is.”
She pushed back her chair and pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I am glad you’re here walking through this with me.” She slid the piece of paper toward him. “For you. I like lists. We’ll be starting tomorrow at the FBI office here in Atlanta?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Caroline.”
He watched her leave before he leaned over and picked up the paper. He opened it.
TEN REASONS I’M GLAD LUKE FALCON IS HERE
1. His voice is calm even when he has bad news to tell me.
2. He keeps going and going even when he’s exhausted.
3. He knows how to find me candy bars.
4. He loves Benjamin.
5. Benjamin loves him.
6. He doesn’t promise more than he can do.
7. He lets me cry and not say anything.
8. Sharon respects him.
9. Mark trusts him.
10. I love him.
Luke—an easy life is fit for easy tasks; a hard life is fit for hard tasks. God knew I would face tonight and the possible loss of my sister, and He knew I would need someone special alongside me.
God needed a warrior, so He made one. I hate the cases you’ve worked in the past that give you eyes that see reality and know the good and the bad possibilities, that give you no easy place to hide. You’re like a tree beaten up by wind and rain that digs in deeper to survive.
God made a man of perseverance. He’s been refining in you a hot fire, to pour into you traits not many
would need. God knew every case you’d see, how hard it would be, and yet He set you on this course for a reason. He created a man who can keep going in the face of tremendous discouragement, in the face of emotional people and chaos and only scraps of information to work with.
God made a man I needed. In order to answer my prayer for someone who can help my sister, He started decades ago creating you. If it’s possible to find Sharon alive, you’ll do it. If not, you’ll help me through it. You are as ready for this task as God can make a man.
If a day comes when you have to tell me Sharon is dead, it will be okay to just say it. I already know your heart.
Caroline
Luke wiped away two tears. And then he slipped the note into his shirt pocket next to his heart.
Chapter Seventeen
Was it too simple for you? Snatch the boy, make a ransom call, collect the money? This was to be over in five hours, not turn into a circus.” Jason Fromm turned his pen end over end, furious. The bank had long ago closed, the staff dismissed that morning so they could join the search while still on paid time. His generosity meant he had the top floor of the building to himself for the day to pace and stew while he waited for this midnight visitor.
Frank put down the elevator repair toolbox he carried as a prop and shoved the oak door closed, making photos of Jason, standing beside several prominent Atlanta politicians, bounce on the wall. “We did what we could to grab the boy, but there was no way to catch him once he bolted to the woods. We grabbed who we could. Ronald made the ransom demand exactly as you ordered.”
“And what we have as a result is a mess.” His anger had been building for a day, and it was turning into a decision: Necessity might have forced him to hire Frank Hardin, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t also fire him—in a very permanent way. Just not here in his office, where the blood would get on his new carpet.
Frank paced over toward the window. “So the price goes up for our troubles. Mark is alive, going to be fine, and now knows just how serious we are. We roll with it and we go on. One Falcon or the other, it’s now twenty million.”
The mention of money helped. “As his banker, I can only see advancing him ten million.”
Frank laughed and tossed over the house keys. “I put her in the room and sealed the door. You can’t hear her, but you might want to sleep in a guest room just the same.”
Jason ignored the comment. She might be in a safe room in his guesthouse, but it was purely a business decision. The only way to make sure no one stumbled on his guest was to make sure no one could. The cops would never suspect him as being involved, but if by a strange twist of fate they were able to do so, they could search his house if they would like at his invitation, and they would find nothing. It was the men involved who were the risk, and the vehicles. “Where are the others?”
“Nearby, and sitting tight. They won’t reappear until you need them.”
“Then I think I’ll place a condolence call and wish Mark’s family all the best and offer any help I or the bank can provide should the need arise.”
“When do we deliver the next ransom demand?”
“When I’m comfortable the relief of seeing it will be such that they are eager to pay. Patience is a virtue when you want a lot of cash. We need another drop point.”
“They’ll have time to be prepared, they’ll be watching the drop this time, so we’ll have to be more creative. I’ve got some ideas in mind.”
“Get it set up.”
Frank opened the door. “My price goes up for every day this drags on.”
“I figured it would. Stay near the phone this weekend.”
* * *
He burst into his own home, gasping for breath, not used to running. He’d hidden his truck in the old barn, afraid to use it anymore, afraid they had seen it. They took Sharon. They snatched her while he took photos of her and Benjamin; they pushed her into a van and took her away. He’d lost them in traffic, and a frantic day searching had left him dizzy.
He hurried into the darkroom, dumping film into his hand. He had to know if he had the pictures he needed. He had to do it fast, before trouble appeared here. Someone might have seen his truck near Sharon’s house. Someone might think he was involved. The thought of it was enough to make frustrated tears wet the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t involved—he would never hurt them. But he couldn’t risk having the sheriff come and see his office and the photos he had taken over the years.
His hands shook as he poured the chemicals. He watched the strip of negatives develop. Ski cap. Ski cap. Partially off ski cap. There! He rushed the development of the photos and pinned them to the board. Track this man, and he would find Sharon.
Caroline had looked frantic on the morning news, and when he helped recover her sister, the gratitude she would feel . . . All he had ever wanted was about to be dumped into his life with one heroic act. He memorized the photo. Find this man, and he had a place to start his search.
Chapter Eighteen
The Atlanta FBI offices were crowded with investigators now working on just one case—finding Sharon. Luke picked up the remote and clicked off the security tape taken from the Benton hospital. He looked over at Benjamin. “You and your mom were grabbed in Benton. In a kidnapping, they won’t want to travel very far. They will keep her somewhere locally while they wait for the money to be delivered. I’m betting within a hundred miles of Benton.”
“So that means Milo and Sandy Hill.” Benjamin carefully turned the pencil on a string along the map to define the hundred-mile circle. “How do you search part of a city? The circle cuts through Atlanta.”
“You let the local cops search those areas. They know buildings that are abandoned or rarely visited. They have people on the streets who will give them information for money. If Sharon is in the city, someone will have seen them.” Luke put in another tape. One of these tapes had to have a picture of the white van.
“Can we go to Benton and help hand out the flyers?” Benjamin asked.
“After we see your dad, we’ll drive to Benton, and we can spend all day tomorrow working at the command center talking to the volunteers and passing out flyers,” Luke agreed.
Jackie brought over another box of security tapes. “Can I get you anything, Benjamin?”
“Do you have a highlighter I could use? Something yellow or orange?”
“Ask our secretary to show you the supply cabinet. It’s got all kinds of markers you can use.”
Benjamin headed out of the room.
“I like him.”
Luke glanced at his partner. “So do I. Thanks for bringing in your boys earlier; it helped Benjamin, having some kids to hang out with.”
“My pleasure. Where’s Caroline?”
The mention of her name was enough to have him relax a bit more. “Hopefully asleep on my office couch. She was up with Benjamin last night.” He’d long ago said that there were optimists and realists and then there were men like him who lived to do what had to be done. He’d accepted that not many people would ever understand him. That had changed in the last twelve hours. Caroline understood him.
No one had ever gone under his guard like that before. And that note of hers would probably wear out before he was done rereading it. He’d seen a lot of ugliness, carried a great weight, and she looked at that burden he wrestled with and not only said it was okay, but that God had made him special. There still weren’t words to convey to her his appreciation for that.
He would find her sister. He’d promised himself that. “Whoever took Sharon knew her schedule well.” Luke pushed the Fast-forward button through another tape. “How many names are in the index now?”
“Twelve hundred. Her patients, office staff, and those on the hospital floor she most often works—Sharon interacts with a lot of people. Add Mark’s clients, the firm vendors, construction contractors, his friends from years in Atlanta—there is nothing simple about this search.”
“How many on the short list?”
“Those who knew her routine, knew she was heading to Atlanta, knew Mark wasn’t with her—we’ve found two hundred names. Of those, profiling to find someone who has motive for a kidnapping, we’ve got about fifteen names of men who have questionable finances and questionable background checks.”
“That’s a thin list.”
“Too thin,” Jackie agreed. “We need someone able to plan this, target Mark and his family, hire muscle, arrange the vehicle, arrange where to hold her—we’re not looking for the guy next door who’s committing his first crime.”
Luke ejected the tape and put in another one. “We need another ransom demand.”
“And if they decide the ransom call is too risky to repeat, and decide to cut their losses?” Jackie asked softly.
Luke knew Jackie was trying to prepare him, but he had already begun to grieve that two out of three might be all they saved. “If Sharon’s already dead, nothing we try now is going to change that. I’ll find the guys behind this.” He paused the video. “Another white van. What tape is this?”
Jackie found the case and searched the logbook. “From the U-Store-It warehouse off I-20, between Benton and Milo.”
Luke ran back the tape. It was from a security camera trained on a security fence and an entrance gate. It happened to pick up the frontage road and vehicles passing the business location. The road was pretty sparsely traveled, which was why the vehicle had stood out as it passed. He stilled a frame capturing the van. The time stamp said 5:20 p.m. Friday.
“Is that it?” Benjamin rejoined them and leaned over his shoulder to see the screen.
“It might be. Do you recognize anything?”
“It’s got two antennas on the front like I saw.”
“Get your map, Benjamin, and let’s find this business.”
The map had a blue dot marking the motel where a white van had been seen Thursday night, a red dot where Sharon had been taken Friday. Benjamin found the spot of this sighting and put down a yellow dot.
“Maybe fifteen miles outside Benton?” Luke asked Jackie. “If this is the same van, it fits the time and distance constraints. This tape puts a white van at 5:20 p.m. leaving Benton and heading away from Atlanta toward Milo. At 6:19, we have Frank in the Toyota at this gas station, on his way into Atlanta. Two guys, already going different directions?”
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