Baby Carter (Baby Grand Trilogy, Book 3)

by Dina Santorelli

  “Once they find this ToniAnne person, will it be over?” Edward asked. “Finally?”

  Jamie didn’t know what to say. Edward had asked her that several times before, and she had asked herself that same question far more. Would it ever be over? “I don’t know,” she said again.

  “All right.” He stood up. “Enough of this … We have to live our lives or else they win, right? Let’s go stuff our mouths with marshmallows.”

  Jamie smiled. “Sounds good to me,” she said when she heard something. “What’s that noise?” she asked. It sounded like it was coming from the back of the house.

  Edward craned his neck toward the back door. “No!” he shouted and charged down the hallway.

  “What’s the matter?” Jamie asked, following him.

  Lucky was on her hind legs and scratching at the back door. With every push of her large paws, the mesh screen was bending in.

  “The damn dog is going to ruin my screen,” he said, “in addition to my fence.” He was about to tug on the dog’s collar when Jamie stopped him.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she said as Lucky let out a big howling bark, her head thrown back like a wolf, and then she continued clawing at the screen.

  “What’s the matter with Lucky?” Peter asked, peeking in from outside.

  “Well?” Edward shouted to Jamie as Lucky let out another howl. “I thought you were taking care of it.”

  The second howl was more intense than the first, and the hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck stood up. “Something’s wrong,” she said.

  “Dogs bark, James,” Edward shouted.

  “Not this one.” Jamie opened the screen door as Lucky went charging into the yard and down the deck stairs, startling Trish who was helping Sara with her s’more.

  “What are you doing?” Edward asked, following Jamie outside. “What about the hole in the—”

  “Where’s Faith?” Jamie asked Trish.

  “She’s playing on the swing set,” Peter said, pointing toward the empty playground equipment at the side of the yard. “Wait, she was there a minute ago.”

  “Faith!” Jamie screamed. She ran down the stairs. “Faith!”

  “Faithy!” Edward called, right behind her.

  “I swear, Jamie, she was just here.” Trish said, leaning over the deck fence, a panicked look on her face.

  Jamie was running in the direction of Lucky’s barks. The dog was at the front of the house, pushing on the fence with her large paws, her strong hind legs bending against the ground as if she were going to try to jump. Jamie came up next to her, the dog as tall as she was, the two of them peering over the fence.

  “Faith!” Jamie called. It was dark and hard to see. The block, unlike earlier that day, appeared empty, most of the cars off the street and parked in their respective driveways. She scanned the area as Lucky continued to bark and lights were turning on in the neighboring homes. Under a streetlight, down the block near a fire hydrant, two teenage girls were walking a small dog, and farther down a person with a video camera was walking across the street.

  “Edward, call the police!” Jamie yelled and opened the front gate. “Stay here, girl,” she said to Lucky, “I’ll be right back,” and closed the gate behind her, flagging down the two teenagers.

  “Have you seen a little girl?” Jamie asked when she reached them, startling them. They looked at one another and shook their heads, their little dog yapping at Jamie’s ankles.

  She kept running, screaming for the cameraman, who had reached the sidewalk on the other side of the cross street. “Excuse me! Sir!” she called, and he turned around. “Have you seen a little girl?” She could still hear Lucky barking in the distance.

  The man studied her and swung his video camera in her direction. “Hey, you’re—?”

  “Yes, I know, Jamie Carter. Did you happen to see a little girl, by any chance?”

  “A little girl?” He thought for a moment. “Did she have dark brown hair and dark brown eyes?”

  “Yes!” Jamie said.

  “And she was wearing black leggings and a pink sweater?”

  “That’s her!” Jamie said. “Do you know which way she went?”

  “I do.” He leaned down to whisper in Jamie’s ear. “She’s in the trunk of that car over there,” he said, pointing to a black SUV on the next block. “And if you don’t come with me right now, you’ll never see her again.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Phillip watched Bailino crack the knuckles of his right hand one by one against the table’s surface. His fingernails were uncharacteristically dirty and chipped, and he wondered if that was from his three-plus years of living on the land out west, but it seemed unlikely. Even in the army, in the middle of the deserts of Iraq, Bailino had been meticulous about his manicure.

  Wilcox had been gone only a few minutes to finalize the release of Jamie Carter and gather the paperwork needed to process Bailino into the system, but Phillip knew it was too long as far as Wilcox was concerned. He had handled most of the facilitating from the holding room, and his eyes probably would have never left Bailino at all if some bigwig upstairs hadn’t asked to see him about the deal—the Bureau didn’t take kindly to mea culpas. Phillip eyed the young agent Wilcox placed inside the holding room in his absence. The agent had been instructed to shoot Bailino if he moves at all but looked as if he had never fired his gun at anything other than a paper bull’s-eye.

  “What’s your name, young man?” Phillip asked.

  “Agent Hansen, Mr. President,” said the young man, his eyes shifting away from Bailino for a moment. “Agent Richard Hansen.”

  “How long you been with the Bureau, Agent Hansen?”

  “Going on two years, Mr. President.”

  “Well, I appreciate your desire to serve your country. I see too many young people spending their days idly on their phones. It’s nice to see someone showing some initiative.”

  The agent gave a small smile but kept his attention focused on Bailino.

  “Agent Hansen,” Phillip continued, “are you familiar with the eighth amendment of the Constitution?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. It prohibits the United States government from imposing excessive bail, fines, or cruel and unusual punishments,” he said proudly.

  “Well …” Phillip motioned to Bailino. “This man has been handcuffed in this position for hours. Would you agree that this could be categorized under cruel and unusual punishment?”

  Agent Hansen examined Bailino’s restraints. “Yes, Mr. President, but Agent Wilcox said—”

  “The Constitution is the Constitution, Agent Hansen, and this is not acceptable. I think you would agree that it’s important to follow the letter of the law here. We wouldn’t want Bailino released on a technicality. Not on our watch.” Phillip returned the small smile. “I believe you may uncuff his wrist and arm, and he will still pose no threat. His legs are shackled, he is unarmed, and there is a line of agents outside ready to shoot him on sight. He’s not going anywhere.”

  The young man hesitated, appearing conflicted, but then nodded and circled the desk until he was behind Bailino. After a few clicks and maneuvers, the back handcuff was off and dangling to the ground, and Bailino’s left arm came forward to rest on the table, and for the first time Phillip saw the jagged stump where his left hand had once been. When the other handcuff had been removed, the young agent collected both handcuffs, nodded at Phillip, placed them in a pocket, and returned to his post.

  “Thanks,” Bailino said, rolling his shoulders as Phillip sat down in the seat across from him. Despite all his bravado, all the back and forth with Wilcox, Bailino looked tired.

  “Why are you here, Phil?” Bailino asked, rubbing his wrists.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Judging by our friend Wilcox’s expression, it’s clear he doesn’t want you here. He’s afraid I’ll work my magic”—he waved his right hand in the air for emphasis—“on you. And I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of mysel
f. I’m a big boy. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “I never worry about you.”

  “You’ve always worried about me,” Bailino said. “That was your problem.” He leaned back in his chair and brought his shoulders up to his neck and then released them, leaning his head to the left and then to the right, each time followed by a crack. “Are you here because you’re hiding?”

  “Why would I be hiding?” Phillip asked, glancing at the young agent whose eyes were still fixed on Bailino.

  “You tell me. Remember when we were in that little dive bar in South Carolina—Pete’s, was it?—just after basic training and that shy girl with the big tits and the red hair asked you to dance to some Garth Brooks song? You excused yourself to the bathroom, and I found you ten minutes later hiding in one of the bathroom stalls.”

  “She wasn’t my type.”

  “I know. You like ’em bossy.” He smirked.

  “Katherine was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I know she was. And I was the worst.”

  Phillip shrugged. “Not really … If we’re being honest, it’s probably because of you that I’m here.”

  “I could have told you that.”

  “Not here here,” he said, motioning to the holding room. “The White House. That video of me at the farmhouse is what got me reelected as governor and what carried me into the White House. And now, ironically, it will be what gets me impeached …”

  “Give me a break, Phil. That video didn’t get you elected, and you know it.”

  Phillip pressed his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose to stem the headache he felt coming on. “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I should just step down.”

  Bailino leaned forward. “Look at me, you big dummy,” he said, his dark brown eyes, while older, still possessing that same intensity. “How you’ve handled yourself got you where you are. In the army. In the Governor’s Mansion. In your life. Not some fuckin’ video. You always worried too much.” He crossed his arms, and the stump of his left arm stuck out of the sleeve of his jumpsuit. “You’ll figure it out. I knew from the first minute I saw you in that baggy military uniform that you were going to do some good in this world. Lord knows, we need some.”

  A quiet settled upon the room. “Can I ask you a question?” Phillip asked.

  Bailino looked around. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Why Charlotte? There were dozens of ways you could have gotten the stay of execution for Gino Cataldi. Why put her in danger?”

  “She was never in danger.”

  “C’mon … You know as well as I do that things happen, things we never expect. You can’t control everything. That was your problem. You always tried to.” Phillip fingered the peeling vinyl at the edge of the table. “So why kidnap Charlotte?”

  Bailino shrugged. “It got your attention, didn’t it?” he said. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

  The door opened, and Wilcox entered holding a file folder. Phillip leaned forward to get up from the chair, but Wilcox motioned for him to stay and placed the paperwork on the table. Wilcox glanced at Bailino’s handcuff-less wrists, but didn’t say a word. He nodded at the young federal agent, who excused himself and left the room.

  “She out?” Bailino asked. “I’m not signing shit until I know she’s out of this place.”

  “She’s out. Took a cab home,” Wilcox said. He spread the paperwork on the table.

  “And was I right? Was there anyone matching the description of Lorenzo Cavetti in front of Walter Reed.”

  Phillip could tell immediately that Bailino was right. Wilcox seemed to wince every time Bailino scored a point, and he was doing it now, which is probably why Bailino liked to rub it in. “Yes, we IDed him from security camera footage a block away,” Wilcox said nonchalantly, as if it weren’t a big deal. “He was on the scene.”

  Bailino smirked. “You know, I would have made a pretty good FBI agent. I missed my calling.”

  “Let’s get on with it,” Wilcox said, pushing the paperwork toward him. “You want a lawyer?” he asked.

  “Nah … Believe it or not, Wilcox, I trust you,” Bailino said. “Got a pen?”

  Wilcox pulled one from his shirt pocket when his cell phone rang. He pulled the phone from the clip on his belt and checked the caller ID. “One second,” he said, stepping into the corner of the room as Phillip’s private cell phone rang as well. He looked at the screen, which read Edward Carter.

  “What’s the matter?” Bailino asked, watching Phillip’s expression.

  “It’s Edward Carter,” Phillip said.

  “Answer it, Phil,” he said with urgency.

  “Wait,” Wilcox said, pulling his cell phone from his ear. “I have Brandon Fuller on the line. Patricia Carter called 911 a few minutes ago to report Faith Carter was missing.”

  “What?” Phillip said as his cell phone stopped ringing and Edward’s call went to voice mail.

  “But now they both are, Jamie and Faith. They disappeared from the house.” Wilcox glared at Bailino.

  “Could Jamie have taken off again?” Phillip asked no one in particular, but Bailino answered.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Not again.”

  “What could have happened then?” Phillip asked.

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” Wilcox said, slamming his fist onto the table. “This is all part of your plan, isn’t it? You son of a bitch.” Bailino’s usual poker face gave away nothing, prompting Wilcox to start pacing in front of the table. “I almost fell for it … Getting me to release Jamie Carter—how noble of you—only to have ToniAnne Cataldi, who we can’t find and whose whereabouts you haven’t told us yet, abduct her so that she could trade to get you out.”

  “And why would I do that exactly?” Bailino said. “Think about it. The minute Jamie’s released, you’d just arrest her again, and we’re right back where we started.”

  “So what then?” Phillip asked, placing his cell phone on the table.

  “I think Wilcox is right,” Bailino said. “This has ToniAnne written all over it, and I have a feeling I know where she’s taken them.”

  “Of course, you do,” Wilcox said. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Get over yourself, Wilcox,” Bailino said.

  Phillip could feel the tension building in the small room, which, with little ventilation, had grown quite warm. “What’s going on, Don?” he asked.

  “My guess is that, because of Agent Double O Wilcox’s performance for the cameras this afternoon at Carter’s house, ToniAnne figured out how to get to them.”

  “Where are they?” Wilcox demanded.

  “My guess? Jersey.”

  “We’ve already been to her daughter, Anna’s, house,” Wilcox said.

  Bailino shook his head. “Not Anna. She has nothing to do with anything.”

  “Where then?” Phillip asked.

  Bailino hesitated, and before Phillip realized what was happening Wilcox was around the table and pushing Bailino’s chair back against the wall, Bailino’s handless arm acting as a barrier.

  “Give it your best shot, you prick,” Bailino said, landing a quick punch into Wilcox’s side with his fist when Phillip lunged between them.

  “Enough,” he said and pulled the two men apart. “Agent Wilcox, this is not the way.”

  Wilcox, his face flushed, walked toward the far corner of the room and took a few deep breaths as Phillip helped Bailino rebalance the chair on the concrete floor.

  “Don,” Phillip said, putting his hand on Bailino’s shoulder, “we need to know where they are.”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Bailino said, still glaring at Wilcox.

  “Why?”

  “Phil, if I tell you, and the Feds and the SWAT team go in, they’re dead.”

  “So let me guess …” Wilcox turned around, his arms across his chest. His face was still flushed, but his breathing had calmed. “You have more terms?”

  “ToniAnn
e wants me, and she’ll do anything to get me.”

  “Tell her to get in line,” Wilcox said.

  “She’s just playing your game, Wilcox. How does it feel being on the other side?”

  Wilcox started toward him again, but Phillip held up his hand, and he stopped.

  “Phil,” Bailino said, “if you don’t let me take care of this, you know what will happen. You and your family will be next. That’s not a threat, that’s a fact. I’m their—and your—only chance. I think you know that.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Wilcox asked Bailino. “Go and ask her nicely again to stop?”

  “I’ll have to figure it out once I get there.”

  “Great plan,” Wilcox said with sarcasm. “And once you figure out how to save Faith and Jamie Carter, then you’ll just march right back into prison?”

  “Yep.”

  “Bullshit,” Wilcox said, and, based on what had happened at the Barbara farmhouse, Phillip was inclined to agree. “Once you get there, it’ll be you and Cataldi with two hostages, and we’re exactly where we are now, except you’re free.”

  “Wire me up,” Bailino said. “Do whatever you have to do. Just get me in the same room with ToniAnne, and I’ll do the rest.”

  The two men looked at Phillip, who sighed and leaned against the wall, which felt cool even under his suit.

  “You can’t be seriously entertaining this, Mr. President,” Wilcox said.

  “It’s not your call, asshole,” Bailino said.

  “Gentlemen, please …” Phillip said, trying to think. “Do we have another option?”

  “Yes,” Wilcox said. “We have a lot of options.”

  “There are no other options, Phil,” Bailino said. “This is it, if you want Jamie and Faith Carter alive. If ToniAnne doesn’t see me, it’s over.”

  Phillip stepped away from them to find some air in the small room. He had built his career on putting and keeping criminals behind bars, not letting them go, and he knew that there was a very good chance Bailino, if given this opportunity, would manage to escape, one way or another. He also knew that Jamie and Faith Carter’s best chance at getting out of this thing was Bailino. He ran his hands through his hair. The media would have a field day if they found out Bailino was on the loose, even under FBI supervision, but with ToniAnne’s volatility, there was a strong likelihood that many more people would be in danger if he didn’t seriously consider Bailino’s offer. He thought of Charlotte and Philly when his cell phone rang again on the table. He looked at the cracked screen.