by RJ Blain
I patted the album, shifting on the bed so I could cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Apparently, this photo album has pictures of them. Peter’s wife enjoys photography, and apparently she takes pictures of everything. I have two full albums to sort through, and somewhere in here are images of Henry’s sort of people.”
“You took these albums into your possession?”
“I did, sir. The Henry brothers all seemed concerned. The real deal when it comes to family treating family right. It may not be relevant, but I was informed Amelia was somehow responsible for their mother’s death. The woman wouldn’t talk about it, and I kept it to Jacob, but you might want to find out exactly what they meant by that. It could be a motive.”
“How did you stumble on this information?”
“I asked a naked man the right questions.”
“I’m sorry, but you what?”
“Winston Henry answered his door in the nude, sir. He didn’t feel it necessary to put on his clothes. It’s his house. If he wants to walk around naked, who am I to judge? Nice fellow, seemed genuinely concerned for Jacob’s well-being. That said, I noticed a patch of drywall that had been filled in with plaster near his landline. Line could have been tapped.”
“Good eye. Notice anything like that at the other properties?”
“No. I did ask Winston if he spoke to Jacob often enough for the boy to recognize his voice. Winston seems to have developed a close relationship with the boy—close enough if he called and asked him to come out of the house, I’d bet my badge he would.”
“Why did you ask that?”
“I was theorizing again, but it was one of the better ideas I had, and it fit. A group as professional as the one behind the Greenwich case could easily pull the trick off. If the line has been tapped, they could have easily recorded Winston’s voice and made a clipping to lure Jacob out. If they made arrangements during a call, mimicking Winston’s voice—or using Winston—then I could see it working. A burner phone and a recording is all it would take. Of course, this is just a theory, but I think it’s worth pursuing. I asked because I trust my gut instinct, and that patch in the wall caught my attention.”
“I really should pull you from this case. You’re a potential target.”
“We could write bait on my forehead. See who comes out to take a bite.”
“No. I’m trying to prevent you from being assassinated, not encouraging this group to take you out once and for all.”
“That would be a sad end to my career.”
“So is quitting when you get pulled off a case that could cost you your life.”
“We could argue over this all day, or you could find me a new partner and add them to the team that is supposed to be trying to hunt me down without you telling them where I’m at. If you don’t want me without a partner, then you better find a partner who can keep up with me.”
“There isn’t exactly a wide selection of CARD qualified agents available to take up the mantle of your partner.”
“So give me someone who isn’t in CARD for this job. It’s not like they need CARD training. They just need to be a special agent with experience.”
“I’m going to make a note in your file that you are obnoxious and easy to dislike, Agent Johnson.”
“It wasn’t already there? How disappointing.”
“It does mention you are exceptionally difficult to find suitable partners for.”
“I don’t appreciate when my back isn’t watched. It tends to get me shot.”
“So your file says.”
“So find someone who understands the concept of watching their partner’s back. If they’re competent and let me do my job, I won’t have a problem with them.”
Daniels sighed. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“I’m going to look through this album, get some sleep, and start fresh in the morning. No telling anyone my location, and no telling them what I’m driving. If they want to find out, they need to get the information themselves. Understood, Mr. Daniels?”
“You’re going to sit tight in a secure location until tomorrow morning?”
“As secure as reasonably possible,” I confirmed.
“Okay. We’ll do it your way. But the instant this turns dangerous, call for backup. It’ll give my agents a chance to find you, I suppose. And give me a few hours to find a partner you might be able to work with. We’ll renegotiate for the Corvette. There’s too much at stake now.”
“How about you give me the Corvette for connecting the cases?”
“Don’t push your luck.” Daniels hung up on me. I snorted, tossed the phone aside, and returned to the tedious task of checking through hundreds of photographs for clues.
Page by page, I flipped through the photo albums, checking each and every image as well as the descriptions Peter’s wife had left. I was halfway through the second book when I spotted the first SUV.
There were three of them parked on the street opposite the Henry home. Each vehicle had contained two men, and Peter’s wife had gotten face shots of them all. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I pulled out my phone and took photos of the photos, sending them to Daniels.
My phone rang after I sent the fourth image. I didn’t recognize the number. Narrowing my eyes, I ignored the call.
Moments later, a text from Daniels ordered me to pick up the phone. When it rang, I answered, “Hello?”
“Miss Johnson,” Andrew said, his voice carefully neutral.
I contemplated someone’s murder, and I wasn’t sure who I wanted to kill more: my purported team mate or Daniels. “What?”
“Would you please reconsider?”
“Reconsider what?”
“Quitting.”
Reconsidering my reconsideration of quitting sounded like a better and better by the moment. “Not interested in doing any reconsiderations of anything at this point in time.”
“We could really use you.”
I counted the seconds, wondering if they would try to use the live line to trace my position. “Look, I’m pretty busy right now. You know, doing the updating the resume thing. I’m sure I can get a job doing secretarial work for some nice corporation. They pay better.”
I hung up, and when my phone rang again, I ignored it. Within five minutes, I expected Daniels to call or bother me. I filled the time by sending him more texts of the images from the photo album.
It was on the last couple of pages I saw a face that chilled my blood and had me dialing Daniels’s number.
“Your team just called me saying they made an attempt to get you back—”
“I’m looking at a picture of one of the men who kidnapped me and Annabelle.”
“Which one?”
“The one I took down to get out of the cabin. Called himself Phil.”
“You’re positive it’s him?”
“I’m positive.”
“You’re off the case.”
“Daniels!”
“It’s in the list of rules you’re not allowed to break. You’re off the case.”
“I want on the case.”
“Not an option.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll be a prime target?”
I smacked my open hand against the photo album. “And would you have gotten this information without me on the case?”
“Probably not,” the man admitted.
“So you’re pulling the person who is actually making progress on the case. That’s so smart.”
“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead.”
“I’m not going to sit around and let them kill a kid.”
“We have no proof the group is the one behind his disappearance. We have circumstantial evidence they may be involved with the Henry family. If Henry is their informant, why would they kidnap his son?”
“Winston said his brother sounded more annoyed than concerned,” I offered. “When he called asking if Jacob was with him.”
Daniels sighed. “There is zero chance
of me permitting you to remain on this case without a partner.”
“Find me a partner who can track me down, and I’ll let them warm the passenger side of the Corvette. But you know what happened the last time I backed down? A kid died. Not this time, Daniels. Not this time. Don’t kick me off this case.”
“You’ll go rogue if I pull you off, won’t you?”
“Can’t say I have a whole lot to lose at this point.”
“I can make a list for you. Let’s start with your very successful career with the FBI.”
“I’m not walking away from this case.”
“Then accept the partner I assign you without wasting time playing hide and go seek.”
I stiffened, my brows furrowing. “Wasting time playing hide and go seek.”
“Of all the things I expected you to say, that was not it. What are you thinking?”
“Something Winston told me.”
“Elaborate.”
“In the file, it mentioned they were staying in Johnstown because they wanted to enroll him in the school system there.”
“Correct.”
“Then why would Winston Henry be so worked up about Jacob wanting to go to school but being unable to?” I asked. “Winston said the last time he spoke to Jacob was two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks ago, Jacob would have already been enrolled—would have been enrolled for a while, probably,” Daniels replied.
“Did anyone check if he was actually enrolled in the school system in Johnstown?”
“On it. What are you going to do?”
“I need sleep. After that, I want to look into who Jacob might have gone to play a game of hide and seek with in Johnstown.”
“The CARD team is still in Johnstown, you know.”
“They don’t need to know we’re sharing space. Really. They don’t. If they really wanted my help, they wouldn’t have benched me.”
Daniels sighed. “I’ll find you a partner and have them meet up with you tomorrow. Your team could use a fifth member anyway.”
“Sounds good. That means when I quit or request a transfer elsewhere, they’ll have their precious fourth member. I’m going to bed.” I disconnected the call, plugged the phone into its charger, and stacked the photo albums on the nightstand.
If Daniels thought I was going to sit around and waste time, he was about to learn a bitter lesson. It was true enough I intended to stay at the hotel room for a little while.
I really did need sleep, a good dinner, and time to make a plan. Tomorrow, I’d be pounding asphalt to cover as much ground as possible, and I had every intention of putting my youthful appearance to good use.
If Jacob had run away to have a chance to be with other kids, it was entirely possible there was a very elaborate game of hide and seek going on. I didn’t know if the group who had kidnapped Annabelle Greenwich would also be hunting for Jacob Henry. If they were, I’d be willfully jumping out of the pan and into the fire.
Some risks were worth taking.
Chapter Sixteen
A lot of FBI special agents I knew had rituals. I liked to think I was immune to superstition, but in reality, I was as guilty of rituals as other agents.
In my two months with CARD, I had developed the habit of eating nothing but pizza when we were working a case. As a result, my diet consisted of nothing but pizza—pepperoni pizza light on the cheese and heavy on the meat, the way Jake liked it.
Between my night swims at the pool and foraging for cold pizza I didn’t even like, I was going to be nothing but skin, bone, and a little bit of muscle holding everything together. When I had been involved with kickboxing, I had eaten a lot more. I had also eaten a variety of things thanks to Jake’s ravenous appetite.
The man knew how to pack food away, and he didn’t like when I picked at mine.
I had tried to avoid thinking of my ex-partner. When I slipped, I was left with nothing but regrets gnawing away at me.
Instead of acting like the adult I was supposed to be, I ate his favorite pizza and pretended I wasn’t an emotional mess. I didn’t do a good job of pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t, but I would’ve made Jake proud at the damage I did to my dinner.
Once upon a time, my comfort food of choice had been Ma’s mashed potatoes and chicken gravy. I had never managed to duplicate how she made it; I was too busy trying to be a good FBI agent to become a good cook. I managed, but that was about the extent of my cooking talents.
So instead of trying to stay healthy, I ate pizza, and something about it kept me hanging on when I wanted nothing more than to let go.
Before I had joined CARD, my choice of poison had been maxing out as many toppings as possible on my pizzas. The changes to my eating habits should have tipped someone off I was primed to blow.
Jake would’ve known with a single look.
I should have recognized my slow and steady dive into the deep end long before I had gotten to the point of quitting. Except for my meeting with Daniels, I hadn’t had anything other than pepperoni pizza for two months.
I ate my way into a food coma, treating the pepperoni pizza like it was a lifeline, and didn’t wake up until my phone rang the next morning. Fumbling for the device, I recognized Daniels’s number. I considered it a miracle I didn’t hang up on him while attempting to answer.
“Bwuh?” I asked in my effort to remember the English language.
“You haven’t flown the coop on me yet?”
I tried to ask what time it was, but it came out as an incoherent mumble.
Apparently, Daniels spoke pre-coffee agentese. “It’s six in the morning.”
Willing my brain to take control of my mouth, I managed to croak, “I will douse you in gasoline and light you on fire.”
“So cruel, especially when I have good news for you. I have found you a partner. I was up until two in the morning searching the FBI to find someone who might be suitable. Aren’t I amazing? I’m amazing. I performed a miracle just for you.”
I stretched, groaning as my back popped and creaked. It tasted like something had died and rotted in my mouth, and I shuddered. “Okay. I’m getting up and heading towards Johnstown. Don’t talk to me until I’ve had coffee. Actually, just stop talking to me. If this partner wants to warm the passenger seat of my Corvette, they’ll just have to hunt me down in Johnstown.”
“You could be nice to me and pick up your partner from Albany’s airport. It would only delay you by two hours.”
“I need coffee, and I need to work. Fly my partner to Pittsburgh and make him or her drive to Johnstown.”
If Daniels knew how badly I needed to be in the field doing something useful, he wouldn’t have even considered routing me in the wrong direction. He didn’t deserve the brunt of my agitation.
None of what had happened was his fault.
“Him.”
I sighed. “Why can’t I ever have a woman for a partner?”
“Your file indicates you do not play well with other women in the field.” Daniels chuckled. “This was underlined and highlighted. In fact, a note in your file went on to say that you had zero tolerance for FBI agents who spend more time on their makeup than they do cleaning their guns. This was also highlighted and underlined.”
It was something I’d say, which made me worry about what was in the file given to New York’s headquarters. “For some reason, I really have my doubts anything like that was written in my file.”
“This report about you being pistol whipped by your—”
“Has everyone heard about that?” I yowled.
Damn Jake, haunting me in CARD while he was probably doing the job of his dreams in HRT. The work suited him far better than CARD suited me, and I hoped his fortunes were far better than mine.
“It does appear I’m looking in the right file, then.”
“I need coffee before I can deal with this. Please.”
“Have breakfast, too.”
“Okay, Ma.”
“Something other tha
n cold pizza.”
Had the comment been a shot in the dark? It didn’t matter; Daniels had managed to wake me all the way up with his well-aimed jab. “Why would I have cold pizza for breakfast?”
“We were trying to figure out what your favorite food was so when you’re back in New York we can have your celebratory ‘I quit but got talked into staying’ party. We do it for all new agents here. When you return, you have an appointment with a nutritionist, who will try to impress upon you the importance of a healthy, balanced diet involving something other than pizza. Our investigation has determined pepperoni, but we’re following some leads that might give us something more interesting to work with.”
“I hate you.” I hung up, screamed my frustration, and got ready to drive to Johnstown.
In my effort to act like a functional human being, I hit a fast food joint and indulged in a breakfast sandwich.
Apparently, a stomach accustomed to pepperoni pizza really didn’t like sausage, egg, and cheese. By the time I made it to Johnstown, I regretted every bite and considered finding a hotel so I could be sick in relative comfort.
A distance that should have taken me six hours to drive took eight, and I swore off food altogether, determined to survive on a diet consisting solely of coffee.
Coffee would never betray me.
A little after two in the afternoon, I eased my Corvette through the winding streets of Johnstown, wondering why Daniels had called the place small. Any city with three colleges and two high schools didn’t count as small, not in my book. Small was the town where I’d grown up in Georgia. It boasted a gas station and a church. It didn’t even count as a one-horse town; the only horse had died of old age the year before we moved to Vermont.
According to my phone, Johnstown had three elementary schools, and one was within a five minute drive of the Henry household. I used the car’s sound system to call Daniels.
“Oh, it’s Agent Johnson. You’re still talking to me? I feel so loved. So, so loved.”
I breathed. I breathed until Daniels probably thought I was a psychotic serial killer out for his blood. If Daniels wanted to play, I’d play. “You don’t need me to love you, sir. You’re too in love with yourself for me to have any hope of holding your attention.”
