“That’s odd.”
“Very. Everything is coming back to Frank Miller and I want to know why. Call him and tell him you need to meet him.”
“No.”
“Do it or you’ll go down as an accessory.”
“Accessory? Accessory to what?”
“Kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping! He didn’t take that girl. Sloppy police work maybe, but not kidnapping. You’re crazy!”
Jordan leaned in. “I don’t know if he took her or not, but I think he did.” He shrugged. “Even if I’m wrong and he didn’t take her, he covered up something in relation to it and you helped him. Now call him!”
Danny flexed his fingers on the wheel, then reached for the phone he’d tossed in the cup holder. He dialed the number.
“Put it on speaker.”
“It’s his number.”
“Just put it on speaker and do it now.”
Danny did. Frank’s voice came on the line. As a message. “You know what to do.” Beep.
Danny hung up.
Jordan sighed. “Call his office, please.”
Danny dialed the number. Voice mail again.
Jordan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you show me where Frank lives?”
“Yeah. You want to follow me?”
“That would be great, if you won’t try to lose me.”
Danny shot him a perturbed look. “I won’t.” But he didn’t move.
“What is it?”
“You really think Frank had something to do with that kidnapping?”
“It looks that way.”
Danny swallowed hard and looked at the streetlight. “I thought he was just stressed out. He wouldn’t have any reason to kidnap a kid. Where would he keep her?”
“Let’s see if he’s home. When we find him, we can ask him.”
Jordan climbed out of the truck and into his vehicle. His mind centered on Katie and what her reaction would be if Jordan was right. He sent her another text asking her to call when she could, then pulled out onto the two-lane road to follow Danny.
* * *
Katie looked around. The warehouse had been empty for about four months. She remembered when this particular shoe business shut down. The machines still stood as though frozen in time. Or waiting for someone to start them up again.
Crates and boxes stacked to the ceiling had letters and numbers on them that probably meant something to the previous workers.
“Frank? You find anything?” She spun to look behind her, wondering where he’d gone.
A loud crack sounded and sparks flew from the nearest machine. Stunned, yet moving on reflex, Katie dove behind the nearest stack of crates. “Frank! Are you okay?”
Katie yanked her weapon and her phone. Fumbled the phone and watched it skitter under the crate. She dropped to her knees and shoved a hand after the device. Her fingers found it as another bullet pierced the wood about chest high.
“Frank! Frank, are you all right?”
When he didn’t answer, Katie’s blood ran cold. Had something happened to him? Was he lying hurt? But both shots had been in her direction. Had she been followed to the warehouse? With a smooth move, she slid the phone from under the crate and into her palm. She pressed 911.
The phone rang, then the call dropped.
“Stupid metal buildings,” she muttered.
Her ears strained to hear the slightest noise that would indicate her attacker was near. She needed to move. She needed to find Frank.
“Katie, I’m over here.”
Katie headed in the direction of his voice.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jordan pulled to the curb behind Danny and climbed out of his car. Danny walked up to the door and rapped on it.
Nothing.
“Use your key,” Jordan said. It was a wild guess, but one he was gratified to see paid off. Danny lifted a brow, then without another word, flipped the keys on his chain to the one that fit the door.
He pushed the door open and Jordan stepped inside. Neatness and order greeted him.
“I’m only doing this because if you’re right, then I’ve been aiding a kidnapper all these years.”
Jordan grunted. “You didn’t know.”
“I knew something was up, but I didn’t bother to find out what.”
True, the man had let things slide, but if he’d been aware of the real story, he would have probably done things differently.
And Lucy Randall might have grown up with her family.
Jordan pushed those thoughts aside and started looking for something…anything…that would give him a hint about what Frank had done with Lucy. “You going to help me search?”
“Yeah.” The big man sighed and started down the hall. He disappeared into the first bedroom on the left.
Jordan searched the den, scoped the kitchen, then walked down the hall to the bedroom Frank had set up as an office.
A big executive-type desk sat against one wall with a leather chair pushed to the side, like Frank had just gotten up to get a cup of coffee and would be right back. His laptop screen saver flipped family pictures. Jordan jiggled the mouse.
The screen saver disappeared and a box popped up asking for a password.
Jordan left the computer and went for the drawers, checking his phone. No return text from Katie yet.
“You know if we find anything, it’s not going to be admissible in court.”
“I know. I’m not planning on taking anything, but Katie doesn’t have enough for a search warrant yet.” He paused. “I don’t think. They might issue one based on the pictures of the cars, but I doubt it.”
“I tried Frank’s phone again. It went straight to voice mail.”
Jordan opened the next drawer and pulled out a file labeled Jenny. “Who’s Jenny?”
“His niece. The one who drowned.”
Jordan opened the file and stared at the picture on top. “Danny, how old was Jenny when she died?”
“Seven. Or eight. I forget.”
“Have you ever seen a picture of her?”
“Yes. He used to have a picture of her on his refrigerator and one on his desk. After she drowned, he removed all the pictures. Like it was just too painful for him to see them.” He scratched his head. “I don’t even remember what she looks like now.”
Jordan flipped the picture over. “Her obituary’s taped to the back.” He turned back to the picture, then pulled out his cell phone and scrolled until he came to the picture of Lucy Randall. “Look at this.”
Danny looked. And sucked in a deep breath. “They could pass for twins.”
Jordan looked at Danny. “You think you could find the address of Frank’s sister?”
“Probably.”
Jordan’s phone buzzed. Katie’s answer, FRANK, sent fear exploding through him.
* * *
Katie ducked as another shot came her way. “Frank!”
Chills of fear raced all over her. Frank was shooting at her.
She had to get out of the warehouse to get a cell signal or she was going to die.
She had to move, change locations. Find a better hiding place. Something. She took a deep breath and darted for the next stack of crates, expecting to feel the burn of a bullet entering her flesh. The shot came, but he missed. When he moved to get a better angle, she got a glimpse of him.
“Frank, stop! Why are you shooting at me?” She flipped her phone on silent.
“Because you keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!”
Lucy.
“She’s my sister. Why don’t you want me to find her?”
Another shot. She ducked, noticed she had one bar and punched in 911 on her cell phone again.
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It rang once, twice. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“I’m—”
The phone blipped the sound of the dropped call and Katie bit back a groan. She quickly typed a text to Jordan, then one to Gregory. A footstep squeaked to her left. She caught her breath and moved toward the edge of the crates.
“Where’s my sister? Where’s Lucy?” she called and moved as silently as she could down a passageway made of crates toward the window to her right.
Another shot cracked the wood where she’d just been. But Frank wouldn’t answer. She figured he was doing his best to hunt her down and didn’t want to give away his location by opening his mouth. Fine. Two could play that game. She did her best to regulate her breathing, control the fear racing through her. If she could get to the window, maybe she could find a signal.
* * *
Jordan’s phone beeped, indicating a text message. He read aloud, “Need help. Two-four-five-six Buckley. No signal.” Terror shot straight through him.
Danny glanced at him and frowned. “Katie?”
“Yeah.” Immediately, he dialed her number. Straight to voice mail.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Danny said.
Jordan punched in the number for Katie’s partner. Gregory answered on the second ring. Jordan snapped, “Katie’s in trouble.” He gave the man the address.
Gregory said, “I got her text. I’m on the way. I just got a report about shots fired there.”
Jordan punched a text back to her.
On the way.
A sick feeling engulfed him. Please, God, let her be all right.
* * *
Katie fired back in the direction the last shot had come from and thought she heard sirens in the distance. It was hard to tell. It might just be the ringing in her ears. She prayed it was sirens. Her nose itched. The smell of gunpowder filled the air and she had to hold her breath to ward off a sneeze.
A crate fell to her right and she spun, then darted toward it and to the right behind the crates next to it. Had Frank pushed one over trying to trap her into exposing her location? Or was it an accident?
Either way, she stayed put, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. She looked at her phone. Still not a good enough signal to make a phone call. The window was too far, with too much open space between her and it.
And where was Frank?
Another shot sent shards of wood raining down on her. One piece sliced the skin on the back of her hand and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Blood dripped. Another hard piece grazed her forehead and she blinked as she hit the cement floor.
Come on, come on, where are you, Gregory? Jordan?
She couldn’t hold Frank off forever. She scuttled toward what had once been a break area with a kitchen. The appliances were gone, but the granite countertops were still there, as well as the cement base they sat on.
Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen.
On the way.
Relief filled her. Blood dripped from her hand and she pressed it to her jeans, trying to stop the flow.
Gritting her teeth, she did her best to ignore the pain that bit at her. Her entire body still ached from all the trauma it had been through in the last few days. She’d pushed herself hard and was paying for it.
God, please. Don’t let this man kill me.
* * *
Jordan led the way to the address Katie had texted him. When he pulled up, he flashed his FBI badge to the officer on crowd-control duty. Knowing a gunshot came from the warehouse, all he wanted to do was rush the place. Common sense and training held him still. Worry for Katie ate a hole in his belly.
Danny raced toward the doors, ignoring the shouts for him to stop. Jordan flashed his badge again and took off after the man. “Danny! Wait!”
Danny ignored him. He pulled open the door and stepped inside the warehouse. Jordan pulled his weapon as the SWAT team descended. He followed Danny inside and let the door close behind him.
“Frank!” Danny’s voice held a desperation that made Jordan wince. “Frank, are you here?”
“Get out of here, Danny! This doesn’t concern you.” His voice echoed, but Jordan thought it originated from the left. He started moving in that direction, using the crates as shelter.
“There’re cops all over the place,” Danny called out. “They have evidence placing you at the kidnapping. I don’t want you to die, and that’s how this is going to end if you don’t come out.”
“Mind your own business, Danny.”
“Why’d you do it, Frank? Why’d you take her?”
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
Jordan glanced around. Frank was hiding, but he had a good idea of where the man was. While Danny kept Frank’s attention, Jordan slipped behind the nearest crate and stopped to listen.
* * *
Katie froze at the new voice. Danny Jackson. She moved to the left and found herself closer to the window. When Frank had answered Danny, his voice had been scary close. She backed up, stepping carefully, her goal no longer the window, but Frank.
Help was here. She needed to help them help her.
She turned, silent and watchful. Where was he? Her fingers gripped her weapon. The safety was off. Step by slow step, she moved.
A scuff from behind. She turned and came to an abrupt stop when a vise dropped over her head and closed around her throat. Adrenaline rushing, Katie dropped her phone, but years of training sent her into defense mode. She stepped backward into her attacker, jabbing with her elbow.
He deflected the blow and jammed his gun into her ribs. She gasped and stilled. Her heart beat with fear and anger.
“I took those courses, too, remember?” he hissed into her left ear.
“So what now, Frank? You know how this is going to play out. You either let me go or we’re both going to wind up dead.”
“I’m not ready to die yet.”
“Then let me go.”
“I’m not going to prison, either.”
Terror curled in her belly.
“Frank!” Danny Jackson’s voice again.
Frank stiffened and tightened his grip on her throat. She choked and he loosened it slightly. “Now we’re going to walk out of here and get in the car and go.”
“They’ll just follow.”
“Then we’ll lose them.”
“What did you do?” she whispered. “What did you have to do with her kidnapping? Why did you botch the investigation?”
* * *
Jordan could hear Katie’s pained questions. Frank didn’t answer her. He peered around the edge of the crates, could hear the negotiator on the megaphone. Frank didn’t answer. In fact, he acted like there wasn’t a whole city of cops outside the building.
He had a tight grip on Katie’s throat, and Jordan could see the man’s weapon pressed against her side. His heart thudded, and he took a deep breath. One shot. He’d only get one shot. He’d better make it count.
The SWAT team was useless without windows. If they couldn’t see the perp, they couldn’t shoot him.
“Frank, come on, man, talk to me.”
Danny was in full cop mode, shrugging off his retirement like he’d never left. Jordan just prayed the man could talk some sense into his former partner while Jordan figured out a way to disarm Frank. Or shoot him.
“Frank! They’ve got evidence that you kidnapped Lucy Randall,” Gregory joined in.
Jordan spun back and stepped around the crate so he could see the door. Gregory had slipped into the warehouse along with four SWAT members. He turned his attention back to Katie. She had gone perfectly still. “You? You kidnapped her?”
Whispered curses slipped from Frank’s lips. “I had to.”
To Jordan, it
looked as though Frank’s grip wasn’t quite as tight. Everyone talking to him had distracted him.
Jordan raised his weapon and closed one eye as he centered the muzzle on Frank’s lined forehead. But the man had a gun on Katie. If Jordan shot, would Frank’s hand spasm and pull the trigger?
Frustration gripped him.
He shifted and tried to catch Katie’s eye.
She saw him and her eyes widened.
Then she wilted straight to the floor, as though her legs had given out.
Frank cursed and held her by her chin. He looked up just as Jordan pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Katie felt Frank jerk and dropped the rest of the way to floor. She rolled and kicked out, clipping his knees and bringing him down beside her.
Before she could blink, Jordan was on the man and rolling him to his stomach, yanking his hands behind his back. “You’re under arrest.”
“You shot him. Oh, please tell me you didn’t kill him,” Katie said.
Frank groaned, and Katie felt a giddy shot of relief.
Jordan grunted as he clipped the cuffs onto Frank and hauled him to his feet. “I was going to, but figured we’d never find Lucy if I went with a head shot. You dropped at just the right time and I caught him in the shoulder. Nice moves.”
“Thanks. Glad he didn’t pull the trigger when I slumped.” She stood in front of Frank and felt a strange mixture of emotions. And detachment. “Where’s my sister?”
Frank shook his head and grimaced. The amount of blood covering his shirt said the shoulder wound probably needed to be looked at pretty fast.
Law enforcement had them surrounded. Gregory looked at her. “You all right?”
“I’m alive, so I guess that means I’m just fine.”
He nodded. Katie waved paramedics over and Jordan helped Frank onto the gurney. None too gently, she noticed. Frank cried out and sucked air between his clenched teeth.
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