by Rebecca Deel
“Nothing except he loved me and would stand behind me whatever I did. He understood, Brenna. Dad saw things just as bad when he served, things he couldn’t talk about and still had flashbacks of years later.”
Brenna studied Eli’s face in the dim light as she thought back through their conversation since they left the kitchen. Was the conversation meant as a warning, that despite all he and Jon could do, they still might not be able to save her sister? “Why did you tell me this story? Are you afraid we might be too late this time, too?”
“You have to be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best possible outcome. This girl on our last SEAL mission never had a chance despite her father following the Scarlett Group’s instructions. They weren’t after the money, but they took it and probably spent every dollar with smiles on their faces. The father was a human rights activist, one who focused on human trafficking. He was calling a lot of public attention to their organization, the kind of attention that scares off potential clients. He was cutting into their profits.”
“So they killed his daughter to get him to back off?”
“Along with a warning that his wife would be next, then his son. These people play for keeps, Brenna.”
“But why take Dana? We’re not wealthy. We don’t have parents alive to pay ransom. We’re not activists of any kind. We both lead quiet lives that don’t cross paths with human traffickers.” She paused. “Is it possible Dana was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Eli shrugged. “Maybe. It’s also possible that Sartelli Construction is involved in this somehow. There are too many connections back to Sartelli not to consider he and his goons know something if they don’t run the whole trafficking operation.”
A buzzing noise interrupted the silence following Eli’s last statement. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Talk to me.”
Brenna noted the transformation on Eli’s face as he listened, a shifting from curious to dangerous in the space of seconds.
“Where are you?” Eli glanced at his watch. “I’ll meet you in 15 minutes.” He ended the conversation and turned to Brenna. “Are you up for a field trip?”
“Why are we back here?” Brenna asked.
Eli parked in front of Dana’s apartment building and shut off his engine. “Jon got a tip that someone in this building might be involved in Julie’s kidnapping.”
“Do I want to know how he came by this information?”
He climbed out of the car and stood on the asphalt. “It’s best if you don’t.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that? Oh, right. It’s because I hear that statement from you about Jon a lot.”
Scanning the area, he closed the driver’s door and circled the hood to meet Brenna on the sidewalk. A cricket chorus was in full voice as they ascended the stairs to Dana’s apartment. He unlocked the door and motioned for Brenna to wait. After checking each room, Eli returned to the landing and ushered her inside.
“I assume Detective Taylor released the crime scene?” Brenna frowned up at Eli. “He did give us permission to return, right? I don’t have the money to bail myself out of jail right now. And if you try to include your bail on an itemized bill, you’re going to have a fight on your hands.”
Amusement zipped through Eli’s body. “I’m hurt, sugar. Do you think I would skirt the law to achieve my own ends?”
“The question I should have asked was how long after the police left did you wait to return.”
He grinned. Man, he loved a spunky woman with a quick, sharp sense of humor. All the women his mother tried to set him up with were the perfect impersonations of June Cleaver, something he admired in his mom, but not in a potential date or mate. Beautiful, true, but they were aiming for a position as arm candy with their personalities checked at the door.
They all but drooled on him when they found out he’d been a SEAL. What was it with women and their fascination with men in uniforms? Several cop friends also complained about the phenomenon as well. Some relayed stories about simple traffic stops turning into trips to the Criminal Justice Center when women tried to buy their way out of a traffic ticket by exposing skin and offering services. Eli mentally shrugged. At least he didn’t have to worry about that problem with Brenna. She hadn’t demonstrated any hesitation speaking her mind or calling his hand on things when she believed they were flat out wrong or questionable.
A sharp rap on the front door interrupted his thoughts. He let Jon in the apartment. His BUD/S partner carried a small black bag in his left hand. Dressed in all black, Jon seemed to absorb light like a black hole. Wasn’t just his clothing. Eli’s eyes narrowed. Something had happened and he’d just bet Brenna would be better off not knowing about it. “He’s at work?”
“Yeah. Called and confirmed.”
“Let’s move. The search might take a while.” Eli turned, lifted a hand and stroked the back of Brenna’s neck. The softness and warmth of her skin distracted him for a few seconds. He yanked his attention back to the business at hand. “Stay in this apartment, sugar. Don’t open the door for anyone except me, Jon or Cal.”
“Where are you going?”
Eli wanted one more kiss from Brenna’s perfect pink mouth. You never know. They might run into trouble on their fishing expedition. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself as he brushed his lips across hers in a light caress. Eli lifted his head, withheld the sigh wanting to escape at the touch of her soft lips, and angled his head toward the door in silent direction to Jon. He eased the door open a crack, checked for people in the walkway and slipped across the hall.
Eli followed and stood behind Jon, blocking anyone’s view of his partner picking Tim Russell’s lock. Within seconds, a satisfying snick reached his ears. “Alarm?” he whispered.
“None registered,” came the almost soundless reply.
Didn’t mean Russell hadn’t installed one, but it wasn’t likely given that this was an apartment complex with maintenance people and contracted pest control workers traipsing in and out of residences on a regular basis. Not something he could live with. It was one of the many reasons he’d bought a house.
Not seeing or hearing residents close, Eli said, “Go.” He knew without looking that Jon had his Sig P226 in hand before he crossed the threshold. Eli slipped his own weapon free and followed his partner into the gloomy interior of the apartment.
They moved through the rooms, the two men confirming it was empty before meeting in the living room.
“Wish my cheap boss would spring for NVGs,” Jon murmured.
Eli grinned. Yeah, night vision goggles would be nice, even though they couldn’t read anything with them on. “Maybe we can liberate a pair from Fortress.”
“On pain of death, sure. Maddox takes it personally when inventory disappears. I wouldn’t want on that man’s bad side. I’ll search the bedrooms. You start in here.”
“Roger that.”
Eli tugged on gloves and palmed a small flashlight with black tape over the end which allowed a pinprick of light to shine through. A quick perusal of the bookcase in the corner revealed their man’s reading taste ran to horror and sports along with two years of skin magazines stacked on one end. Not surprising if he had connections to Scarlett Group.
Next, he searched the entertainment center. Timmy boy had excellent taste in electronics. Large flat screen television, a newer model from the looks of it. Top of the line entertainment system along with a Blu-Ray player and Bose speakers. Didn’t believe in skimping on his video game collection, either. Eli leaned closer to read the video covers and choked back laughter. So, he fancied himself a video warrior? All of the games featured the military—Marines, Army, Navy, and black ops stuff. From what he’d observed about Russell earlier, the military would have a lot of work to do whipping the man into shape. Hmm. Maybe he could tap into that fascination for all things military when he and Jon confronted Russell later.
Finished with his search of the small living room
, Eli moved into the kitchen and found the typical frozen food preferences of bachelors and an up-to-date supply of lunchmeat and bread. Eli had to hand it to the man. At least he kept up with expiration dates on his food, unlike Eli’s own tendency to use the sniff test. If it smelled okay, it was edible. His mother cleaned out the contents of his refrigerator every couple weeks. According to her, it was a wonder he survived without several trips a month to the hospital with food poisoning. Aside from food, Timmy hadn’t secreted anything interesting in his appliances.
“Eli.”
Jon’s almost toneless whisper brought him to the second bedroom. He found his partner sitting in a pitch-black room lit by a computer screen. “Well, well. So our boy is literate enough to use a computer. He spends most of his time with video games, skin magazines, and a few horror books.”
Jon grunted. “Take a look at this.”
Eli bent to get a clearer look at the screen. “Huh. His bank records. How did you crack his password so fast?”
“He wrote the password down and left it under the mouse pad.”
“And here I was about to bow down and kiss the feet of the master code cracker. I’m disappointed, bud. Some of us don’t have photographic memories, so help me out. What am I supposed to notice?”
“Russell made cash deposits of $9,500 the day after Julie disappeared and the day after Dana disappeared.”
Fury boiled in Eli’s gut. Russell paid for his expensive electronic toys by targeting women for human trafficking. But why focus on Dana? He considered the possibility of revenge. Dana made no secret of her reluctance to start any kind of relationship with Russell. Maybe the man didn’t take rejection well. Seemed a little over the top to sell the offender off to the highest bidder.
Brenna’s theory about Dana being in the wrong place at the wrong time made the most sense. Otherwise, why didn’t Russell move on Dana sooner? Why wait all this time before selling her to the Scarlett Group?
“Any other deposits in that amount?”
A few taps on the keyboard. “Six others in the last four months.”
“Make a copy for us to take and examine closer. Cal might be interested in an anonymous tip about those deposits and the dates.”
“Already on my flash drive.”
“Anything else interesting on his computer?”
“Several emails with throw away addresses. Nothing incriminating unless you know to look for dates and phrases. I already downloaded those as well.”
“I assume he won’t know we’ve been snooping through his digital trash?”
“What do you think?”
Eli laughed softly. Russell wouldn’t have a clue either of them had been in his apartment and computer unless they wanted him to know. Nobody covered tracks as well as Jon Smith. He was the master of stealth and invisibility in cyberspace. And just about anywhere else he wanted to go. He’d hate to meet his BUD/S mate in a dark alley. Not that he’d admit it to Jon, but Eli figured his friend could put him down in under two minutes. He’d get some licks in, but he’d go down just the same.
“You want to wait for him here or take him down at work?”
Jon turned off the computer and screen before replying. “Is there a dark alley behind The Watering Hole?”
“What self-respecting bar doesn’t have one? As the bartender/manager of that joint, I doubt he lowers himself enough to take out the trash.”
“Should. He fits in with the rest of the garbage.” Anger and disgust sounded in Jon’s voice.
“Cal and company would be obligated to show us the wrong side of the cell doors if Russell presses charges. And he’ll be inclined to do just that when his face meets the brick wall a few times.” And kissed the pavement, not to mention broken ribs and nose.
Jon grabbed his bag and stood. “He’ll talk and there won’t be a mark on him. At least not to the naked eye. Greater chance of someone spotting us there.”
Eli shrugged. “So, we wait.”
Brenna paced the floor of Dana’s apartment. Eli had slipped through the door hours before and told her to get comfortable, that he and Jon would be a while. They were waiting for Tim to get in from work to confront him with what they’d found.
The aggravating private investigator and his partner refused to share what they learned in Tim’s place or let her wait with them. Brenna scowled. She could have waited with them. She knew how to be quiet for hours on end. She did it all the time when she was in the zone of her story and writing.
She ran her hands through her hair and twisted on her heel one more time. Brenna could handle whatever Eli and Jon did to Tim. She didn’t care if they ripped off the man’s fingernails or hung him up by his thumbs. If he knew where Dana was or if he had been involved as Eli and Jon suspected, Brenna wouldn’t complain over any method they used. Then again, maybe it was a good idea for the guys to question Tim without her around. What she didn’t see she couldn’t testify about. Deniability. She knew a few good lawyers. The guys probably had great ones at their disposal considering their chosen career. Brenna suspected Fortress had high-priced lawyers on retainer for all their operatives.
She frowned. Maybe chosen wasn’t the right word to apply to the men across the hall. After all, with Eli and Jon’s skills, what other type of career could utilize their knowledge besides law enforcement or military, whether U.S. government backed or private?
She turned for another circuit around the apartment when her attention shifted to Dana’s bedroom. Did the guy who broke into the apartment leave the computer intact? Brenna hadn’t heard Eli or Detective Taylor say anything about Dana’s computer being vandalized. Now, if the police had just left it alone, she would be in business. She needed to work on something, anything, or the endless waiting would drive her insane.
Brenna changed direction and hurried to Dana’s bedroom. As soon as she walked through the doorway, the scent of her sister’s favorite body lotion brought tears to Brenna’s eyes. The clean, fresh aroma of vanilla always reminded her of Dana. She missed her, feared what unspeakable horrors her sister endured.
She pulled out her phone and glanced at the countdown. Her hand trembled. Thirty-six hours left. When would the kidnappers contact her again? She figured it would have to be soon.
Swiping at the tears trickling down her cheeks, Brenna’s gaze darted to the computer sitting on the desk in a corner of the bedroom. No visible damage. She yanked the chair back, slid into the seat and turned on the machine.
While waiting for the computer to boot up, Brenna scanned Dana’s room for changes since her visit two months earlier. A few more romances littered the bookshelf, including Brenna’s latest release. A framed picture of her and Dana together. Brenna tilted her head. She didn’t remember that picture being taken.
She got up from the chair and walked to the dresser to examine the photograph closer. They were in a restaurant. Qdoba from the look of the décor. Who had taken a picture of them together at Qdoba the last time she’d been in town to see Dana? And the picture hadn’t been snapped with her knowledge.
Brenna’s eyes narrowed. Dana’s friend, Grace Peters, had been at the restaurant that day for lunch, too. Maybe she took the picture and gave her sister a copy. Huh. Nice thing to do, although it bordered on invasion of privacy. At least her fans usually asked permission before snapping a shot of her with their cameras.
She glanced at the screen. The cursor was waiting for her to enter the password. Brenna keyed in the letters and numbers she and Dana had devised for both their computers. Neither of them had any other family. Dana’s mother had died of leukemia after her birth. By the time Dana had turned two, her father had married Brenna’s mother. Since both Brenna’s parents and Dana’s were gone, it seemed prudent to make access to information easier if anything happened to either of the stepsisters.
With a silent apology to her sister for invading her privacy, Brenna clicked on the emails and began reading. She waded through and deleted all the spam that had flooded the inbox in the las
t couple weeks. How did so many pharmaceutical companies, legitimate or not, get private email addresses? Didn’t these folks have anything better to do than push their wonder drugs on the public? Brenna skipped the emails from her and concentrated on the rest.
She scanned several emails forwarded from Sartelli Construction. Most of them concerned event dates and times connected with the work Dana had been doing for Elena Sartelli. The rest of the emails discussed the kind of mundane details sprouted by construction business, the kind of details that would drive Brenna into a coma from boredom. She shuddered. How did Dana stand dealing with those dry details?
Her sister had expressed the same disdain for the details in Brenna’s books. While she lived for in-depth research and valued mining gold nuggets of obscure knowledge for her novels, Dana used history books as a sleep aid. Her sweet sister had barely passed each history course in school. Brenna had lost count of how many nights she stayed up way past their bedtime to help Dana study for a test. No matter how much they studied together or tried different study techniques, Dana’s mind didn’t retain many historical dates or names.
She clicked on a message that had been sent one day before Dana’s disappearance. She scanned the message, her eyes widening the further down the screen she read. The message was unsigned. If she didn’t know better, Brenna would say their stepfather, Ross Harrison, had written the email. But wasn’t he still in jail? Could he send a message from behind bars? She knew some prisoners were allowed computer privileges, but weren’t the incoming and outgoing emails monitored?
Brenna’s cell phone vibrated. She jumped, heart leaping into her throat. Brenna dug her phone out and scanned the message. Midnight. Come alone or she goes to the highest bidder. An address followed, one Brenna didn’t recognize.
She blew out a breath. Great. More cloak and dagger stuff in the middle of the night. And she could guess what Eli’s response would be when he learned about the meeting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
