Eleven
"There he is," Nathan said a moment later, spotting Mark's car up ahead. "He's turning on Crawford."
"I see him."
"Why are we chasing him?"
"Because he's acting suspiciously."
She maneuvered her way through traffic with confident speed, but his truck wasn't built for a car chase.
"He could just be going to work," he suggested.
"With a backpack he hid in the side yard?" she challenged. "I don't think so."
He didn't think so, either. "Then what?"
"I think he lied to me the other day when he said he hadn't heard from the kidnapper. Or he was contacted after our conversation. I'm betting there's a lot of cash in that backpack."
"He's delivering ransom?" That idea seemed incredible to him.
"That's my guess. He told you and Lindsay he was going to work?"
"Yes. He got a call when we were together in the kitchen, but he took it in the other room. He was gone about fifteen minutes. When he came back, he had changed, and he looked like he was energized."
Had Mark gotten a call from the kidnapper? But why wouldn't he have said anything? Why wouldn't he have told the police or the FBI or his wife?
He pressed his hand against the door as Bree took another turn on two wheels. "You might want to slow down."
"I've got this. Trust me."
"Hard to do that when I'm the one who taught you how to drive."
"I'm a lot better now."
He could see that. There was no hesitation in her decisive movements, no doubt. She was a woman on a mission, and she wasn't going to lose her target. For the first time, he really saw her as she was now: a well-trained, fearless and determined FBI agent.
"Where is he going?" he questioned, as Mark made another unexpected turn.
"Probably someplace deserted, empty. The kidnapper likes abandoned buildings."
"Has there ever been a ransom demand before?"
"No, but this case has been different in several ways. I just wish I knew Chicago better. It's changed since I was last here."
"Somewhat and yet not that much," he said, one destination coming to mind as they headed toward the outskirts of the city. "He could be heading to the Damen Silos," he said referring to the abandoned and once majestic fifteen-story grain silos. The silos had been abandoned in the seventies, but they had been a target for graffiti artists, homeless encampments, and other criminal activities over the years. "You said he likes abandoned buildings, and those have certainly been a favorite criminal destination for decades. Although, I thought they had shut them down, locked them off awhile back."
"We had a team check the silos the first night, but the kidnapper could have moved Hayley, or he just chose that location for the ransom drop, and Hayley is nowhere nearby. I need to call this in to the team. Can you grab my phone out of my bag?"
As he opened her bag, he saw a 9 mm Glock, and his gut tightened—another reminder of how Bree had changed her life. His hand slid past the gun to grab her phone. He handed it to her and set her bag on the console between them.
She punched in a button and said, "Tracy? Yes, I want to talk about the photos, but not right now. Why? Because I'm in pursuit of Mark Jansen. I think he's meeting the kidnapper."
Bree paused, and he could hear a torrent of conversation coming from the other end of the line.
"I will call you as soon as I know for sure where he's going," she said. "I'm guessing he might be going to silos, but I'll have to let you know."
Nathan heard more loud comments on the line, then Bree disconnected the call and tossed the phone into her open bag.
"Tracy didn't sound happy," he said.
"Tracy is never happy with me, but I don't care. This could be the break we're looking for. I don't have time for office politics. I don't have time to make someone feel better. It doesn't matter who finds Hayley; we just need to save her life. And I can do this job as well, if not better, than any of the agents in Chicago."
He smiled, and Bree gave him a sharp look.
"What?" she demanded.
"I like your confidence, that's all. You are a different person now."
"I'm proud of that."
"Me, too."
She cleared her throat. "So, you said you found out something at the house. What was it?"
"Oh, right. Lindsay told me Hayley was adopted."
"She just volunteered that?"
"Not exactly. She was rambling on about letting down Hayley's birth mother. She said she was supposed to protect Hayley and give her a better life. She didn't realize what she'd said until I asked her about it. Then she admitted it."
"Well, okay, but that's not really new information."
"I'm getting to the new information," he said dryly. Bree had never had a lot of patience when she was ready to act. "Lindsay mentioned that Hayley is probably missing her favorite toy, a small bunny, that she always had with her, except Tuesday night, because it was stolen from Lindsay's SUV a few weeks ago."
"Wait. There was a car break-in? That wasn't in the file."
"Mark said they reported it to the police several weeks ago. There were other cars on the block broken into that night that had more valuables taken. He said the police didn't seem to think they could do much about it."
"They usually can't," she murmured. "But the fact that Hayley lost her favorite bunny…"
"Do you think it's tied to the kidnapping? That means the abduction was planned weeks in advance."
"Every abduction by the White Rose Kidnapper has been meticulously planned out. I definitely think it could be connected. Hayley was lured out of her school by someone who didn't cause her to panic or scream or struggle. She either knew him, or he used something she loved to entice her, to make her trust him. I'm thinking it's this special bunny that he took out of her mom's car."
"That makes sense." He braced himself again as Bree pressed her foot down on the gas pedal and they took another turn at full speed. He didn't know if Mark had any idea he was being followed, but he was certainly driving fast, running red lights to get to where he was going.
As the silos came into view, his blood began racing as fast as the car. "What are we going to do when we get there?"
"I'm not sure."
"Really? You're not sure? You don't have a plan?"
"I'm making it up as I go along."
"I've seen how great that worked for you in the past."
"This isn’t the past, and you're going to have to trust me, Nathan. I have better instincts now. They don't usually let me down."
It was the second time she'd said that to him since they'd gotten into the car, and he realized she needed to hear the words. "I trust you, Bree."
She gave him a hard look, then nodded and turned her focus back to the road.
* * *
As Bree neared the silos, she eased back on the gas, not wanting Mark to catch sight of them. It was possible he might recognize Nathan's truck, although he seemed more intent on getting to his destination than looking over his shoulder.
But even if Mark wasn't looking for a tail, whoever he was meeting with would be. She didn't want them to get spooked.
She didn't know if Hayley would be at the drop; she didn't think so, but she couldn't discount the possibility that the kidnapper would swap Hayley for ransom. It didn't seem likely based on her work experience and also on the fact that the kidnapper was looking for more than money. Why else would he be threatening her, sending her through the painful places of her past and sending her baby photos?
The ransom call just didn't make sense, unless she was off base on where Mark was going, and what he was doing, but she couldn’t get the sight of that large backpack out of her head.
"Looks like he's heading toward the south entrance," Nathan said, breaking into her thoughts.
She took out her phone and connected with Tracy once more. "He's about to enter through the south entrance of the silos," she said. "We're not far behind
him. Come in quiet. We don't know if Hayley is there."
"Wait for us to get there," Tracy said.
She didn't reply. She might wait, or she might not. She was going to play this out in whatever way was necessary to ensure a good outcome.
She slowed down even more, staying a good distance behind as Mark drove through a broken-down fence a quarter of a mile away. She pulled off on to a side road and hid the truck behind a dumpster at the back end of a warehouse and turned off the engine.
Grabbing the gun out of her bag, she looked at Nathan. "I'm going to check things out. Stay here."
"I don't think so," he said, immediately following her out of the truck. "That agent told you to wait."
"Nathan, I don't want anything to happen to you."
"And I don't want anything to happen to you. So, we're sticking together. If you're going, I'm going."
She didn't have time to argue with him. And if she didn't let him come, he'd just wait ten seconds and follow her anyway. "All right, but stay close behind me, and don't make any moves."
"Got it."
They crept along a brick wall, and then scooted between two pillars just before the entrance that Mark had turned in to. A few feet later, Mark's car came into view. It was in an open area surrounded and hidden by the towering silos.
Mark got out of the car and looked around, then glanced down at the phone in his hand.
"He's waiting for a call," Nathan murmured.
Bree nodded as they stayed out of sight.
Her nerves were screaming at the silence. All she could hear was the wind blowing through the large, abandoned cement structures. It felt as if they were the only ones there, but that wasn't true. Mark was also present, and he was waiting for someone—someone who might already be here.
She needed to get closer. Moving with sure-footed confidence, she kept Mark in view as she got closer to the scene. She wanted the kidnapper to show his face before she showed hers. One wrong move, and the situation could go bad in any number of ways. She had to protect Mark, keep the kidnapper alive long enough to tell them where Hayley was, and then find Hayley. At any time, the FBI and the police could storm in at the wrong moment and create more chaos.
She wished she was in better communication with them, but at this point even the slightest whisper could carry.
A car turned in to the entrance and pulled up thirty feet away from Mark's vehicle, a cloud of dust hiding the identity of the driver. As the dust cleared, the man stepped out. He had on a dark ski mask, a gun in his hands, and he kept the door of his vehicle open in front of him.
She could feel Nathan's tension as his body slid forward next to hers.
"Just wait," she murmured, sensing his impatience. "We need to know where Hayley is." The little girl didn't appear to be in the sedan, but it was possible she was in the trunk.
"I've got the money," Mark yelled.
"Show me," the man said.
While the two men were engaged with each other, she crept forward another few feet, then settled into position, putting the gunman in her sight. She would take him down but not kill him. She needed to keep him alive, so he could be forced into telling them where Hayley was.
Before she could pull the trigger, Mark moved into her line of fire.
"Where's Hayley?" Mark yelled.
"Give me the money, and then you'll get your daughter back," the man said.
"I want to see my daughter. Where is she?"
"She's safe. Throw the bag to me."
Mark tossed the bag into the air, and it landed about five feet from the kidnapper. "I did what you wanted. Now give me my daughter."
Bree shifted position, trying to line up her shot, but Mark kept moving around, making it impossible for her to hit her target.
The gunman came from behind the car door and walked forward to get the bag. She waited for her opportunity.
"Tell me where she is," Mark demanded. "Please. She's just a little girl."
The man grabbed the pack off the ground and started backing away.
He was going to leave, and Mark was going to get nothing.
She held her breath, ready to fire… One more step, and she'd have him.
But then Mark let out a blistering, frustrated yell of rage, as if he'd just realized his last hope was leaving and he charged toward the kidnapper, right into her line of fire.
The man fired his weapon, and Mark fell to the ground.
She immediately fired back, hitting the gunman in the right shoulder. He dropped the gun and stumbled backward in surprise, the bag of money hitting the ground.
She jumped up and ran forward.
Mark was alive, writhing on the ground in pain.
"I've got him," Nathan said, right behind her. He dropped to the ground next to Mark, as she moved toward the kidnapper.
The man's face was still hidden by the mask, but she could see panic in his eyes as he struggled to get up.
"Where's Hayley?" she demanded, aiming her gun at him. "You've got one second to tell me before I kill you."
"You'll never—"
His words were cut off as a bullet blast hit him right between the eyes. He fell backwards, dying instantly.
She whirled around.
Where had the shot come from?
Nathan was applying pressure to Mark's wounds and there was no FBI, no police, in sight.
There was a second shooter. But why had he shot this guy and not her? Not Mark? Not Nathan?
She needed to protect them. She scanned the surrounding structures, looking for some glint of metal in the sunlight, but the shot could have come from anywhere.
And another shot could be coming any second.
Twelve
Nathan stared down at Mark, fear racing through him when he saw his friend's glassy, shock-filled eyes. He was clutching his abdomen, and there was a massive amount of blood dripping through his fingers.
He heard Bree call for an ambulance, and prayed it would get there fast, because he didn't know how much time Mark had. Taking off his jacket, he pressed the material against Mark's wound. He didn't know what was going on with the shooter. He assumed he was dead or unconscious.
Bree had checked the trunk of the shooter's vehicle, which had apparently been empty.
Now, she seemed to have taken up a protective stance in front of them, and she was as tense as she'd been before.
She didn't think the danger was over.
He didn't want to think about what that might mean, because there was no way they were moving Mark to a safer location. He'd bleed out before they could do that.
"It's going to be okay," he told Mark, lying with as much sincerity as he could muster. He'd seen a few gunshot wounds in his life, and this one was bad. But he needed Mark to hang in there.
"Hayley," Mark choked out. "Love her so much. Tell her."
"You're going to tell her yourself. You have to be strong, Mark. Stay with me."
"I—I was desperate."
"I know."
"Tell Lindsay…I'm sorry. Had to…take the chance. Said they'd kill Hayley if I didn't come alone…and bring the money. Should have known…trap."
"We'll find Hayley. Don't worry."
Relief flooded through him as police cars and unmarked vehicles came screaming through the entrance, followed by pounding feet, officers with guns drawn, and paramedics running toward him with a stretcher. Thank God!
He got up and stepped back as the EMTs took over, stabilizing Mark, so they could get him into the ambulance. He could see his friend going in and out of consciousness, and he hoped he'd done enough to stem the bleeding. He glanced down at his blood-soaked hands and felt a wave of nausea.
A female police officer came over to him and handed him a towel. "Are you injured?" she asked.
"No, I was just taking care of him," he replied, wiping the blood from his hands.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
He drew in a breath. "I don't know where to start." Glancing across the way
, he saw Bree and a circle of FBI agents surrounding the gunman, who appeared to be dead. As happy as he was that the shooter would not be able to hurt anyone else, he couldn't help worrying about what was going to happen to Hayley if this guy didn't come back with the money.
"Start with how you came to be here," the police officer said, interrupting his thoughts.
"I was following my friend, Mark Jansen. His daughter was kidnapped. I saw him leave his house in a big hurry, acting suspiciously, and I—we—decided to follow him. Me and Agent Bree Adams," he said, tipping his head to the group of FBI agents. "She can fill you in on the rest."
"I still need your side of the story."
"Wait, what's happening?" he asked, seeing not only more police cars coming into the area, but officers and agents heading up and into the abandoned silos.
"We're searching the area."
"For Hayley? Do you think she's here?"
"We don't know. But she's not the only one we're looking for."
It suddenly clicked in: the second blast, Bree's frenzied movements after that, the way she'd positioned herself in front of him and Mark. "There was a second shooter, wasn't there?"
The officer met his gaze. "Did you see someone?"
"No. But I heard the shot. I thought it was Bree—Agent Adams. I was rushing to Mark's side. I didn't see who fired the weapon."
"We're going to need you to come down to the station and answer a lot more questions," the officer said.
"Sure, whatever you need."
"Stay here." She walked over to speak to another officer, one who appeared to be in command of the scene.
Despite her suggestion that he stay where he was, as soon as the circle of agents around Bree broke up, he headed in her direction.
She must have also been told to stay put, because she was suddenly alone, her gaze on the deceased gunman.
He quickly made his way to her side. "Are you okay, Bree?"
"Fine," she said with distraction. "I know this man, Nathan."
"What?" he asked, wondering how often he could keep feeling complete and utter surprise. But as he moved around her to look at the shooter, an icy chill washed over him, an old memory tugging at the back of his mind.
Reckless Whisper KO PL B Page 13
