Truth or Dare

by Fern Michaels

Carrie fidgeted in her seat. She finally sucked in her breath and opened her sketch pad. She held it up for Margie to see. “What does it mean, Carrie?”

  “This is the place the men took us after Aunt Betty lost us.”

  “What are all these squares?”

  “Boxes. Some are pretty and shiny. Some have blankets in them.”

  “How many? You have six here. Were there more?”

  Carrie flipped the page. There were squares covering the entire page. “That’s a lot of boxes,” Margie said. “Were there other children there when you got there?”

  Carrie flipped to another page. Nine stick figures clustered together, each with a number over the stick figure’s head. “So that means twelve kids, counting you three, right?”

  Carrie’s head bobbed up and down as she flipped another page.

  “Is this outside where you were?” Carrie nodded.

  “It smelled bad. You had to hold your nose,” Emily said.

  “What is it?”

  “A place to cook. The monster lady told us if we didn’t stop crying, she would cook us in it. We tried not to cry,” Emily said.

  A wild idea ripped through Margie’s mind, but she said nothing. “What’s on the next page?”

  “Jars with flowers and letters. Big fat candles.”

  “Where did you kids sleep?”

  Emily opened her sketch pad. “We slept in the box. They let Andy sleep with me because he wouldn’t stop crying.” She flipped the page. “This is the Princess Queen!

  “She was the only one who got the pretty dress. And that crown on her head. She got picked first. No one wanted Carrie and me because we . . . why didn’t they want us, Carrie?”

  “’Cause we’re mixed up. The monster lady said someone would pick us sooner or later if the price was right.”

  Margie swallowed hard. “Well, now, that didn’t happen, did it? You are safe and sound, and we’re going to find your parents and take you to them. Think, Carrie, you too, Emily, when they took you from the mall, how long were you in the van? Was it a long time or did it just take a little while?”

  Carrie’s face puckered up. “I can tell time but not real good. I think one hour. I looked at my phone before they took it away from me.”

  “That’s real good, Carrie.” Margie looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’m going to see what the gentlemen have in store for us for lunch. I’d like you to keep drawing, anything you think will help us find your parents and your Aunt Betty.”

  “She’s not our real aunt,” Emily said. “Uncle John isn’t our real uncle either. They’re . . . what is it, Carrie?”

  “Pretend,” Carrie said, glaring at her sister. “And you aren’t supposed to tell that to anyone.”

  “I don’t care. I just want to go home. I hate it here. I want Mommy and Daddy. I want to go home,” Emily wailed.

  Margie did her best to comfort the little girl. “How does ice cream sound for dessert?” she asked as she tried to distract the child.

  “Strawberry?”

  “Let me see what I can do. In the meantime, you kids keep drawing me pictures, okay? Even if you think it’s not important, draw it anyway. Cooper will watch over you while I’m getting lunch.”

  Margie Chambers stood in the middle of the spacious kitchen and raised her eyes upward. She knew where the kids had been taken. Now she had to tell her boss. She pressed the number 2 on her cell and waited. “Come up to the kitchen. I think I know where the kids were held. I’m making them lunch right now.”

  “Where?” Snowden barked.

  “I’ll tell you when you get up here.”

  Chapter Six

  Allison Bannon, aka too many aliases to remember, stared at the red numerals on the tiny bedside clock—3:10. The bed was lumpy, and yet, somehow, it was almost comfortable. Steven Bannon, her husband, her partner, her teammate, snored lightly next to her. The sound annoyed her. Steven annoyed her. He’d annoyed her for years now, and it was time she started thinking about doing something about it. Everything in this screwed-up life she was leading annoyed her. She hugged her arms to her chest as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t bother to move to wipe it away because if she did that, she knew a waterfall would start. Besides, special government agents didn’t cry. Special government agents were tough. Almost inhuman, with no emotions.

  I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want a life. Fifteen years serving the United States government on American and foreign soil is enough. She wanted out, and she wanted out now.

  All she had to do was slip out of the lumpy bed; pull on her boots, because she always slept in her clothes for a quick getaway; and walk out the door. That’s all she had to do. Steven would never know she was gone till he woke in the morning. She’d leave it up to him to make up some story to tell the other three men on the five-person team she was leaving behind. He’d find her, though, because he knew exactly where she would go. And then there would be a huge blowout between them, with their handler stepping in. Well, not this time. This time, she was really done. And she didn’t give a good rat’s ass about anyone or anything except her kids.

  For a week now, she’d tried through all the channels set up with her handler to get some face time with her kids, all to no avail. She was given one excuse after another as to why that couldn’t happen. Steven didn’t seem the least bit concerned, but she was having none of it. She’d tried calling Betty, Andrea, and all the other agents, supposedly substitute parents, who looked after her kids, but every single call went straight to voice mail. Eight days had passed since that initial conversation, and nothing had happened. She was now on her last nerve.

  Allison moved then, just slightly, waited to see if Steven would wake, but he just continued to snore. She moved again, stood up, pulled on her boots, reached under her pillow for her Sig Sauer, and stuck it in the back of her jeans. The rest of her arsenal was in her backpack, which weighed thirty-eight pounds. It held her life, her very survival. Steven had an identical backpack, as did the other members of her team. Between the five of them, they called the packs their L&D packs, which meant live or die.

  Allison was almost to the door when she heard her husband ask her where she was going. Answer or not? She sucked in her breath, wondering if this was going to escalate to something ugly they’d both regret. The answer was yes.

  “I’m going to find my kids. I’m done, Steven. You’re in charge now. That’s what you’ve always wanted. Well, now you have it.” Without another word, Allison was out the door and headed to the Jeep they’d arrived in the night before.

  Steven was right behind her, pulling on his boots as he hobbled after her. “You can’t walk off a mission like you’re going out for a loaf of bread.”

  “Is that what you think? Watch me. Try to stop me, and I will shoot you. You know I will, Steven. So stop right there.”

  “What the hell has gotten into you, Ally? We’re so close now. We almost . . .”

  “Almost! Almost! Almost isn’t good enough anymore. We’ve been chasing the Karas brothers and their child-trafficking organization for three years, and we’re no closer to finding them than we were three years ago, when we started out. Something’s wrong here, and I don’t like what I’m smelling. Someone in this little team is not who he seems to be. I think it’s you, you son of a bitch! You’re a traitor. Right now, I don’t even care about that. All I care about is my kids. Those goddamn people have my kids, I know it. I know it!” Allison screamed in the quiet night. “And I’m going to get them back. Me. Just me. Run along now and report to Luka. And when you talk to him, tell him if he gets in my way, I’ll shoot him, too.”

  Allison knew she had the advantage because Steven had to go back into the rattrap rental for his backpack. She hopped into the Jeep and tore out of the parking lot burning rubber. She didn’t look back. Let Steven and the team find their own way from here on. From this point on, she was going solo and would depend on no one but herself.

  As
she drove through the dark, quiet night, she reviewed her life with the Agency. Fifteen years she’d given them. And they lost her kids, something they promised would never happen. And no one was doing a thing to find them. All they were doing was lying to her. For all she knew, they were on some boat waiting to be sold to the highest bidder for things she didn’t even want to think about.

  It had been so glamorous in the beginning, when she’d been recruited right out of college. The life of a dangerous spy. It was right up there with all the stars in the sky. Mata Hari, slinky gowns, speeding cars. Action! She took to the training like a seal to water. She excelled, graduating at the top of every class. There was nothing she couldn’t ace. She could fieldstrip a weapon in the dark with her eyes closed. She was the best sniper to come out of Langley, also known as The Farm. The prestigious CIA. She was the fastest on the field and outdid her instructors every single time, earning her the title of the Bionic Woman after the famous character in an old television series. She was the best of the best, and no one had ever had the audacity to challenge that claim.

  Allison slowed when she saw neon lights ahead on the road. She stopped. She needed gas and some coffee. And a new supply of burner phones. She was in and out and back on the road in twenty minutes.

  Ten miles down the road, she saw a turnoff that would take her to a strip mall set far back from the road. Across the road from the ratty mall was a run-down trailer park. She had to ditch the Jeep and see if she could hot-wire a stolen vehicle. No sense letting her handlers follow all the GPS trackers they had on everything she owned.

  Allison headed straight for the trailer park and drove around till she found what she was looking for. An old Bronco with a lot of leaves and debris on the hood. Whoever owned it obviously didn’t drive it much. She stashed the Jeep in the far corner but not before she ripped off the trackers, knowing she was probably missing a few of them. She tossed them as far as she could and hoped for the best. In the next aisle, she noticed a tarp covering a car. She ripped it off and settled it over the Jeep. At least it wouldn’t show up like a beacon in the night. It would allow for a small head start but not by much.

  There was no need to hot-wire the Bronco. The key was in the ignition. Trusting lot, these trailer owners, she thought. And the gas tank was full.

  Allison let her thoughts go to her children. To all the mistakes she’d made when she put her career ahead of her family. She deeply regretted each and every one of them. Nothing she’d accomplished could ever take the place of missing the kids’ first tottering steps, the loss of their first tooth, the gold star on a spelling paper, the warm hugs and kisses, the sweet, innocent baby smell. Nothing.

  Tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  Allison knew she needed a plan. She needed to find a place to hide out for a day or so to get her wits together. She was smart enough to know she was going to get one shot at what she was trying to do, and if she flubbed it, her kids would be lost to her forever. Well, that was not going to happen.

  The sun was starting to creep toward the horizon when Allison saw a sign advertising a mom-and-pop rest stop. They’d take cash and ask no questions, and hopefully it would be a clean place where she could catch a few hours’ rest and take a long, hot shower and put on some clean clothes. Then she’d make a plan.

  The inn was a cozy little place with just eight rooms. She signed in, paid cash, took the key, and walked around the corner to her new digs. The room was just as she hoped it would be. Clean, nice soap, comfortable bed. Four hours, and she should be up and clicking on all cylinders. For now, it was the only plan on the agenda.

  Allison did everything she’d promised herself. She washed her hair, stood under the shower until the water ran cold, brushed her teeth three times before she crawled naked between the cool sheets. She set her internal clock to wake up in four hours. She woke with one minute to spare, feeling like she could take on the world.

  She ordered a fried egg on a bagel and a huge pot of coffee from the limited menu next to the phone. She couldn’t ever remember anything tasting so good.

  A plan. She was smart enough to know by now that Steven had notified Luka, and the hunt for her would be on. They’d sanction her. Agent gone rogue. Armed and dangerous. In other words, if necessary, shoot to wound. With no results, that order would change to STK, shoot to kill. Her people didn’t mess around.

  Allison sat down at the little desk under the window. She pulled a blank sheet of paper toward her. She reached for a pen. She had known that this day would come at some point and had taken steps toward this moment. She had the next best thing to a photographic memory and didn’t trust herself to put anything in writing or on a computer. But right now, she wanted to see her short list of people she knew she could count on, a short list of people who would have her back. She needed to see it in black and white. With her own eyes. What the eye saw, you could never take away.

  1. Lizzie Fox.

  2. Harry Wong.

  3. Ethan Franz.

  Three people! Just three people she could depend on. Pretty damn sad, she thought.

  Lizzie Fox had her POA, power of attorney, and as such had set up a safe haven for her if she ever had to take it on the run. Harry Wong had turned her into the lethal person the powers that be had ordered. And Ethan Franz controlled her money, and there was plenty of money, enough to last her and her family through ten lifetimes. Better not to think about where all that money came from right now. No one knew about the money except Lizzie and Ethan and herself. Technically, she supposed she’d stolen it, but the truth was, she had found it. By accident. On a drug bust eight years ago. Ten teams of agents had scoured the three acres where the bust went down. Two weeks later, they closed the case, and the money was forgotten, all $57 million of unmarked money that had already been laundered. It had bothered her that the money had never been found, so six weeks later she went back to the area and plopped herself down and let her memory go to work. There had been one squirrely dude whom she’d watched because she thought he was the one who would give it up, but he hadn’t. But his eyes gave him away.

  First rule of thumb: If you want to hide something, hide it in plain sight. Uh-huh. She remembered how she’d let her eyes do the same dance the squirrely dude had performed; and then she saw it. Six straggly pine shoots each no more than a foot high. And there wasn’t a pine tree to be seen for miles. She stared at them for a long time before she started digging with her bare hands. In the end, she’d had to use a shovel and dig down five feet before she found four trash bags full of shrink-wrapped money.

  She remembered staring at the money for well over an hour. She was a federal agent, an officer of the law that she’d sworn to uphold. If she put it back, it would just rot in the ground. The case was closed. The drug dealers would be in jail for the rest of their natural lives. They weren’t going to talk, not now.

  Finders keepers.

  She’d lugged the bags back to her SUV, shoved them in the cargo hold, and drove a hundred miles out of her way to a small town outside Memphis, Tennessee, where she rented a storage unit for a five-year contract that she paid for up front in cash. She’d renewed the contract once for a second five-year term. And she’d never touched a penny of the money. Technically, that is. She’d faithfully sent Ethan Franz $150,000 twice a month for the last ten years to invest for her.

  Her plan, if you could call it a plan, was to retire on her investments, which were now beyond the robust stage, and somehow figure out a way to return the original $57 million to the government. There was a lot to be said for being an entrepreneur.

  No, money was not a problem.

  Allison put a check mark next to Lizzie Fox’s name. Then she plugged in one of the new burner phones and waited. It took her less than three minutes to program the phone; then she dialed the special cell-phone number Lizzie had given her so many years ago. It rang three times before the call was answered.

  Allison cleared her throat. “Lizzie, do yo
u know who this is?”

  “Tea Pope,” was the immediate response. Allison had the crazy thought that Lizzie was just sitting there waiting for her call.

  Allison closed her eyes at the sound of her birth name. “Today, I go by Allison Bannon. I need your help.”

  “Talk to me,” Lizzie said softly.

  Allison laid it all out quick and fast. “I need a car, a clean one. Paperwork should all be in the name of Doris Brown. Use the address of the safe house. Right now, I am in Tennessee. I need you to call Ethan and have him activate the Doris Brown bank account. Twenty thousand should do it for now. I’m driving a stolen Bronco I need to get rid of. Do you know anyone who can take it off my hands and make it disappear?”

  “I do,” Lizzie said. “Where are you going to go, Allison?”

  “To find my kids. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get them. If . . . if something goes wrong, you know what to do, right?”

  “I do, Allison. What about Steven?”

  “We’re done. We’ve been done for years now. He’s never gotten over the fact that I was made team leader, and he’s my second. I stopped trusting him a long time ago. I believe he’s a traitor. I knew there was a mole in the nest, but I never thought it was my husband. I was wrong, Lizzie. The rest of the team, they’re all rock solid. I can’t worry about them now. Call me when you have me set up. We good, Lizzie?”

  “We’re good, Allison. Listen, if you get in a bind, I know some very good people who will be only too glad to help you. You know one of them already, Harry Wong. Promise me you’ll ask for help if you need it.”

  “I promise. Thanks, Lizzie.”

  Allison found herself doodling on the paper in front of her. She drew circles, then arrows, then more circles around Harry Wong’s name. For some reason, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Lizzie Fox knew Harry Wong.

  Nothing to do now but wait.

  * * *

  The clock in the Pinewood hallway struck twelve. Twelve o’clock meant lunchtime. Jack Emery wasn’t hungry, and his mouth was still tender, so he settled for his fourth or fifth cup of coffee, he couldn’t remember which. He sat down at the table and was surprised to see Cooper come through the door right on Harry’s heels. The strange, mystical dog ambled over to Jack the way he always did for a soft tickle to the sweet spot between his eyes just long enough for a thought to enter Jack’s head. Jack didn’t disappoint him. Satisfied that his job was done, Cooper ambled back out of the room.