Reckless Whisper KO PL B

by Barbara Freethy

  "I don't hate you. I hate the people who took Hayley. They're the only ones who are responsible."

  "You're Hayley's birth mom," Lindsay muttered, as she still tried to make sense of it. "But she doesn't have your green eyes. Hers are brown." She paused. "The father—we never knew anything about Hayley's father."

  And the last thing she wanted to do was tell Lindsay about Johnny. "He's not important right now. I just want you to know that I'm going to find Hayley, and I'm going to bring her back to you."

  "To me? Or to you?" Lindsay whispered, anguish in her eyes. "You're her mother. Maybe you want her back."

  Did she want her back?

  She shook her head, forcing the silent question out of her head. "No. You're her mother." She blinked back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall, and looking at Lindsay, she could see the same heartbreaking emotion. "And Mark is her father," she managed to add. "He's going to be all right, and Hayley will come home to you. We're going to put your family back together."

  "Promise me."

  It went against all of her training to make that promise, but she did it anyway. "I promise."

  Tense silence hung between them, and then the door opened, and Lindsay's father returned to the room. She felt relieved at his interruption. Lindsay would have more questions, but for now she'd told her enough.

  "Everything all right in here?" he asked, obviously noting the heavy atmosphere in the room and not sure if it had to do with Mark or Hayley or whatever else they'd been talking about.

  Lindsay gave her a helpless look, as if she didn't know how to answer her father.

  Bree didn't want to get into anything with Lindsay's dad, so she just said, "I'll be in touch, Lindsay."

  "Just keep your promise. That's all I ask."

  Nathan leaned over and gave Lindsay a hug. "I'm praying for Mark."

  "Thank you," she said tightly.

  As they left the room, Bree paused in the doorway. Lindsay's father sat down next to his daughter and put his arm around her shoulders. Then Lindsay lost control and started to sob.

  "I made things worse," she muttered.

  Nathan took her hand and pulled her into the hallway. They moved a few feet down the corridor, away from the police officer. "You had to tell her, Bree."

  "It was one of the hardest things I've ever done," she said, looking into his understanding eyes. "But I thought she needed to know."

  "She did need to know. I just wished you hadn't made her a promise you might not be able to keep."

  "I'm going to keep it," she said fiercely. "I'm going to save my daughter. Whatever it takes."

  "I'm not arguing with you. I know you'll do everything you can, but I noticed you didn't tell her about Johnny."

  "I didn't want to scare her more by telling her that Hayley's father is a criminal. But I'm going to have to tell everyone else. The pictures coming to my phone are putting together a phrase that will directly name me as Hayley's mother, and if I don't share my suspicions, I could be putting Hayley at more risk. I have to come clean. I have to get the police and the agency on the same page, so we can find her."

  "I know it's not what you wanted, but it's the right thing to do. Do you want to get out of here before…" His voice trailed away. "I guess it's too late for that."

  She nodded, seeing three members from the Chicago FBI office get off the elevator. They were followed by two men in suits. One was the lead detective on the case, Vance Cooper, but the other man was new to the investigation. He wasn't, however, new to her. "Is that Detective Benedict?" she asked Nathan, wary surprise running through her.

  "I think so," Nathan said tightly. "What is he doing on this case?"

  She didn't know, and she didn't like it. Benedict had been good friends with Johnny's father, and she'd always thought he was a dirty cop. The fact that he was suddenly showing up now when Calvin Baker, a former associate of Johnny's, had just been ID'd as the ransom negotiator made her very nervous.

  Was he here to get information for Johnny?

  "Be careful what you say to him," she told Nathan. "Don't let on that you remember Calvin."

  "Don't worry. I know how not to talk to the cops."

  "I don't know when I'll be in touch. The police will take over your questioning, while I'll be tied up with the agency. I wish I could protect you from the questions—"

  "I'm not worried about it," he said, cutting her off. "I'll tell them exactly what happened, how we came to follow Mark to the silos, and how you took down the gunman before he could kill Mark."

  "I shouldn't have taken you with me. I should have commandeered your truck and left you on the sidewalk."

  "Like that was going to happen," he said dryly. "I will be sure to tell them I went willingly and actually forced you to take me. But don't waste your concern on me. I'm fine. And when you're done on your end, I'll be waiting."

  She liked the sound of that.

  "And, Bree," he added. "The promise I made to you at the bus station still stands. You tell your secret however and whenever you want. As far as anyone else is concerned, I know nothing."

  "Last time you didn't talk, you got beat up. This time, you might go to jail. I don't want you to lie for me."

  "The cops don't know as much as we do, and at the moment, neither does the FBI. My interview will probably be over before the police know you're Hayley's birth mother."

  "You might be right."

  "I'll handle myself," Nathan added. "You take care of you. And try to remember you didn't do anything wrong, Bree. You loved the wrong guy a long time ago, but everything else you did right. And you're still doing it right. You're Hayley's best chance at survival. Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise."

  Her heart swelled with gratitude. Nathan had always been the one person she could count on. "We'll meet up later," she said. But judging by the intent looks on her fellow agents' faces, she didn't think that would be any time soon.

  Thirteen

  As Bree had predicted, the police detectives had zeroed in on Nathan, taking him down to the station, while the FBI had hustled her back to the office for a long chat.

  She'd been in a conference room for the last five hours, having gone through every detail of her past: her relationship with Johnny, her teenaged pregnancy, the time she'd spent in Detroit, and the woman who'd set up the adoption. Then they'd moved forward in time to last year: the previous kidnapping cases, the news coverage in Philadelphia, and the text messages she'd received from the kidnapper. Finally, they'd zeroed in on her actions today: her arrival at the Jansens' house, her discussion with Nathan, which had led to them following Mark to the silos together, and the shots that were fired—one to disable and one to kill.

  While most of the questioning was led by Tracy and/or ASAIC Hobbs, various other agents had come in and out of the conference room to ask questions and/or give updates on the investigation into the crime scene at the silos as well as Mark's condition. He was now out of surgery, still critical, but holding his own for the moment. She was tremendously grateful to know that he was going to make it.

  The texts and the photos she had received from the kidnapper were being analyzed, but she doubted they would find anything. The kidnapper was too smart, always staying one step ahead. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he had some background in law enforcement. He seemed to know exactly how to mask his actions from the bureau, an agency with tremendous resources and technological expertise.

  The fourth photo—the one she was sure would say daughter—had still not arrived. She had no doubt that another message would be arriving at some point. The game was not over. The kidnapper was not done.

  As early evening shadows darkened the conference room, Tracy flipped on a light and sat down at the other end of the table as she took a call. It was just the two of them now, and Tracy seemed to be doing more listening than talking, which was unusual since Tracy always seemed like she had a lot to say.

  Bree glanced at her watch. It was almost si
x. She was exhausted and starving. And she was getting tired of playing good little FBI soldier to Tracy and a bunch of colleagues who didn't like her much for mucking up their investigation and withholding what they considered to be important information. Never mind that it had been less than forty-eight hours since she'd arrived in Chicago, even though it felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd gotten on the plane.

  Everything had been happening at lightning speed. Maybe they were pissed at being left out of the loop for a few hours, but she was getting angry about being cooped up in the office for so long and treated like a criminal instead of an agent.

  "Are we done?" she asked when Tracy got off the phone and moved down the table to sit across from her.

  "Almost. That was Detective Benedict. He said that Calvin Baker was living in an apartment on Hayward Street until a week ago."

  "Hayward Street is where the gym is—the boxing gym that is owned by the Hawke family."

  "We're aware," she said shortly. "The landlord said Baker moved out last week, leaving a half month's rent on the table. His whereabouts after that are unknown. Neighbors had nothing to say."

  "No one on Hayward Street ever has much to say. Was there anything else?"

  "Baker has been in and out of jail the past ten years. He's done just about everything from drug deals, to gun running, car theft, and assault."

  "And his ties to Johnny Hawke?"

  "Nothing recently."

  Wasn't that convenient, especially since the information had come from Detective Benedict?

  "What do you know about Detective Benedict?" she asked. "Because a long time ago, he appeared to be very close to Johnny's father. Suddenly today he shows up at the hospital. He hasn't been involved in this case at all, so why is he now a part of it?"

  "Because he works organized crime, and he actually put Baker in jail four years ago after a drug bust. We contacted him looking for more information. We brought him into this, Bree."

  She frowned. "It still seems odd to me. I'd swear he was a dirty cop when I lived here. I know I saw him talking to Johnny and his father. There was something between them."

  Tracy shrugged. "If he's dirty, he's good, because he's had his job for over twenty years."

  "Well, I need to talk to him. I want to speak to Johnny as well." She was dreading that, but it had to be done.

  "No. You're not talking to anyone," Tracy said definitively. "My team will be conducting all the interviews."

  "But I know Johnny."

  "Obviously," she said sarcastically. "But you would be emotionally compromised in any interview with Mr. Hawke, so we will take it from here."

  "He would tell me more than he would tell you."

  "Would he? You did steal his child from him."

  She sighed, knowing she couldn't argue that. "All right. Then let's end this now. There's nothing more to be said." She pushed back her chair and stood up.

  Tracy gave her a hostile look as she also got to her feet. "That's not your call, Bree."

  "I think it is. Despite the fact that you're treating me like a suspect, we are on the same side."

  "It feels like you've been playing both sides," Tracy returned. "You should have told us that you thought this little girl was your daughter."

  "I honestly didn't think that until about five minutes before I went to the silos. But we've been over all that a hundred times already. I didn't come to Chicago to make trouble; I came because this was a setup. I was lured here. Hayley's kidnapping wasn't done by the White Rose Kidnapper; it was just made to look that way, so I'd be called in. There's still a little girl out there we need to find, whether she's my daughter or not."

  "I am very aware of that."

  "Then why are you talking to me instead of looking for her?"

  "Because you made a mess of things, and I have to clean it up."

  "I didn't make a mess of anything," she snapped. "And if you weren't holding some grudge against me from the academy, you'd be acting a lot differently."

  "No, I wouldn't. I go by the book, Bree. I follow protocol. I don't act out of passion and emotion. I always use my head. I'm logical. I plan my every move. I don't jump into trucks with a civilian friend and drive him to a ransom drop."

  "I needed a vehicle, and Nathan was right there. At the time, I didn't know where we were going. But I'm done explaining my actions. This interview is over. I have told you everything I know. If I am out of the investigation, then I'm going to my hotel. But I will need my phone back. If the kidnapper calls again, I have to be able to answer."

  They'd already argued about the phone several times, and while Tracy had disagreed, ASAIC Hobbs had decided Bree should hang on to the phone and keep her connection with the kidnapper alive.

  Tracy reluctantly handed over the phone. "You will let us know if any calls come in?"

  "As soon as it happens."

  "I still think you should have protection."

  Another topic they'd already discussed at length. "I don't need a visible presence between me and the kidnapper," she reminded Tracy. "He needs to think he can still get to me."

  "Which means he can get to you," Tracy couldn't help pointing out.

  "I can handle myself." She grabbed her bag and headed out of the room before Tracy could come up with any more reasons for her to stay.

  When she got outside, she flagged down a taxi. As it pulled away from the curb, she stared at the phone, knowing there was another reason they'd let her keep it. They wanted to track her.

  Not so fast. She quickly disabled the GPS. They could trace and triangulate any calls she made, but for now, she was free.

  "I'm going to change my destination," she told the driver, giving him a new address. Then she sat back and looked out the window at the city that was continuing to beat her down.

  Tracy's boastful words about being a better agent because she acted from a place of logic seemed laughable to her. She knew without a doubt that she wasn't going to get Hayley back by following protocols. She was going to have to get down in the mud and fight like the street kid she'd once been.

  * * *

  Nathan opened the door of his apartment just after seven on Friday night, thrilled to see Bree in the hallway. They hadn't been in touch since she'd left the hospital, and that had been hours ago. She looked exhausted. He pulled her into his apartment and into his arms, kicking the door shut behind her.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and they hung onto each other.

  He could feel the tension in her body, the stress of the last few days, the fear, the worry—everything. But then he'd always been in tune with Bree. He'd never really been able to divorce his emotions from hers. When she hurt—he hurt. It was just a fact. It had started when he was thirteen years old, and it didn't seem to be ending any time soon.

  It didn't matter that they hadn't seen each other in years before this week.

  This was Bree. This was the girl of his dreams.

  She was here. And she was in his arms. And that was all that mattered.

  She lifted her head and looked up at him with her beautiful green eyes. "Hi."

  He gave her a smile. "I wasn't sure the FBI didn't have you locked up somewhere."

  "They're not happy with me. There was talk of suspending me, but I'm the only link they have to the kidnapper, so for now I still have my gun and my badge. I'm not sure how long that will last." She let go of him and stepped away. "Let's see your place."

  "It's not much."

  She walked down the short hallway that led into his one-bedroom apartment and put her bag on the kitchen counter. Then she headed straight for the balcony.

  "You have a view," she said with delight, moving through the small living room to the sliding glass doors.

  He followed her outside, smiling at the change in her demeanor as she took in the city from the thirty-fifth floor.

  "Oh, Nathan, this is amazing," she said, waving her arm toward the city skyline. "The lights are beautiful."

  "
Better than the rooftops we used to get up on?"

  "So much better. We never had access to anything higher than twelve floors. This is crazy."

  "I have to admit the view is what enticed me to pay more rent than I planned. Someday, I'd like to own a house and put down some deeper roots, but when I took this place, I was looking for a way to feel on top of things."

  "You're on top of the world up here."

  "It's not the beach. I don't see sailboats," he said, reminding her of her dream view. "But for now, this is good."

  "It's better than good." She drew in a breath and let it out. "It's been a long day."

  "That's an understatement."

  Turning to look at him, she said, "I heard Mark came through surgery. How long did you stay at the hospital?"

  "I was there until about an hour ago. Mark is not completely out of danger, but he seems to be holding his own."

  "I'm so relieved."

  "Me, too." He could see the unspoken question in her eyes. "Lindsay didn't say much about your revelation, except to ask that I not tell anyone else in her family. I assured her that information wouldn't come from me, but with the police and FBI being filled in on the connection between you and Hayley and the kidnapper, I didn't know how long anything was going to stay secret."

  "Probably not long."

  "I reminded her that the only thing that matters to anyone right now is finding Hayley. Everything else can be sorted out later." He paused. "She did ask me how I knew you. She wondered about our relationship and what I thought of you."

  "What did you say?"

  "I told her we met when we were kids and that you are a really good person. I said I was there when you decided to give your baby a better life, and I knew how much it cost you, but I also knew how sure you were that you were doing the right thing."

  She met his gaze. "Thanks for the character reference."

  "I told the truth. You are a good person. You're a good agent, too. I hope the bureau knows that."

  She shrugged. "Time will tell." She paused. "Lindsay is probably worried I'm going to try to get Hayley back after all this."