“I like apple juice. It’s one of my favorites. Thanks.”
“I already had one, so you don’t have to share.”
The Agent almost laughed. Then felt a pang of—what?
Longing?
Remorse?
No, allowing himself to feel those kinds of things would interfere with fulfilling his destiny. What he’d been born to do.
But—something. And that worried him.
His new little friend stared up at him, trust shining, taking gleeful joy in the new adventure that had disrupted his normal routine. “Is that a BB gun?”
What? Oh, he’d forgotten he held it. Looking out the small tree house window, he realized his chance was gone. This little guy had nearly surprised him into a heart attack. The Agent gave a small smile. He’d lost this opportunity so he’d wait for another. No hurry. And he’d enjoyed the banter with the child.
Dismantling the weapon, he slid the rifle into the case and smiled at the boy. “No, do you have a BB gun?”
“No, my big brother does. He’s twelve. He won’t let me touch it. Neither will my mom.”
“If you keep it our little secret, I’ll come back and teach you to shoot.”
“You will?” Awestruck, the green-eyed urchin stared up at The Agent who had just become his new hero.
“Sure. Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook on it. The Agent felt the warmth of the little boy’s hand pressed against his own palm. Again, that pang. Again, he considered how easy it would be to take the boy. What would it be like to be a dad? To have the full responsibility of a young life like this one rest on his shoulders? His heart warmed at the thought. He’d be a good dad, patient, loving, not like—
But no. That wasn’t why he was here. He’d finish his job, follow his orders.
And he knew where the child lived should he change his mind.
The Agent pulled back the curtain covering the small window, saw his target walking back toward the house, giving up on whatever had sparked his interest. He frowned, wondering what he’d done to give himself away. How had the cop known he was being watched?
He told himself not to be stupid.
It was instinct. That survival instinct that came with being a cop. And it was strong.
He’d remember that. Never underestimate your opponent. Always be the strong one. The rich one. Weakness brought on bad things. Never again would he be weak. No, he was the strong one. The smart one. And he had Boss. Boss would never steer him wrong.
It was as simple as that.
Samantha watched from behind the window. When Connor had gone all cop on her, she’d sent in backup—Andrew and Dakota. She’d chosen to stay with Jamie just in case. Now they were returning en masse and she had questions.
Jamie looked afraid, chewing her bottom lip, and Sam prayed this didn’t do irreparable damage to her sister’s amazing progress in healing. Jamie sent her a small smile and a shrug. Relief oozed through Sam. Jamie was handling it.
Connor came through the door, followed by Andrew and Dakota.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“You’ll think I’m crazy, but I felt like we were being watched.”
“Why? By whom?”
“I don’t know.” Connor shook off the events by changing the subject. “Why don’t I introduce everyone?”
“I’m Jamie.”
Sam raised a brow as she realized her sister was staring at Dakota.
And Dakota was staring at Jamie.
“I’m Dakota Richards.” He pushed his Stetson back and held out a hand.
Jamie hesitated, sucked in a deep breath, looked at the outstretched hand . . . and shook it. Samantha nearly fell over. Dakota Richards was the first male Jamie had touched—or allowed to touch her—in ten years. She hadn’t even hugged their dad since the attack.
Connor finished the introductions, seeming not to notice the undercurrents zinging around the room. Jamie managed to drag her gaze from Dakota in order to smile at Andrew and Connor.
But she didn’t shake their hands.
Sam motioned for everyone to have a seat while Jamie disappeared back into the kitchen. Dakota looked like he might follow, but turned on his heel at the last minute and took a seat. Andrew stood beside the window, his gaze on the street beyond.
Samantha asked, “Any word back on the girls’ medical records? The text messages?”
“Not yet.” Connor shook his head at the slowness of the whole process. “Soon, I’m hoping. They know this could be a matter of life and death for these girls, so I know they’re making it a priority.”
A knock on the door sounded and Sam went to answer it. “Hey, Tom, come on in. We’re having a regular crime-busters party.”
Tom entered and smiled. “Can I do anything to help?”
“You can stop killing yourself. You have rings around your eyes. What on earth are you working on?”
“That missing kid from Tokyo kept me going through all hours. I’m just glad I didn’t have to hop a plane.”
“Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
He shrugged. “A few hours.”
Samantha ushered him into the den and made another round of introductions.
Connor spoke up. “Oh, I got him clearance to help with the case if he wants. Jamie’s clearance still stands if she wants to help on this.” He looked at Tom. “Your FBI status made that a no-brainer. We can use all the manpower we can get and if you’re willing . . .”
“Sure. Be glad to.” Tom settled on the couch.
Jamie came back into the room and Dakota shot to his feet. “Do you need any help with anything?”
A shy smile curved her full lips. “No, not right now, thanks. I decided to just order some pizzas.”
“Smart woman.” He rubbed his hands together. “All right, guys, we need to come up with a plan of action. Connor asked me to pitch in. So . . . the FBI’s resources are at your disposal via me.” He tapped his chest. “And our new buddy, Tom, here.”
Tom piped in, “What do we have so far? Can someone fill me in?”
Connor turned serious. Andrew moved from the window where he’d been keeping an eye on things. Sam watched him and Connor have an entire conversation just with their eyes. Andrew communicated he’d seen nothing to cause alarm. Connor acknowledged that with a nod.
Wow. She tried to think if she’d ever had a connection like that with someone. And couldn’t come up with one person. That saddened her, but she didn’t have time to analyze this newly discovered longing.
Turning to Tom, she filled him in with the abridged version, then said, “We’re waiting for the text messages from the girls’ phones. We should have them any time now.”
“Cool. What else?”
“Samantha’s still working on the computers,” Connor said. “She thinks she may have gotten everything off of them, but unfortunately there wasn’t much to get. We’ve got several people checking the school computers and all the libraries within a thirty-mile radius. It’s going to take forever, but we don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”
Tom rubbed a finger across his lips. “That’s kind of weird. Teenagers use computers all the time. IM, email, seems like there would be more on their home computers. But if Sam couldn’t find anything, then there wasn’t anything there to find. She’s the best.”
Sam flushed at the praise. “Thanks, Tom. I have a feeling I’m not looking in the right place. I’m going to try something else.”
“Like what?” Tom’s raised brow expressed his interest.
She looked at Connor. “You remember me telling you about remote access and how, if you had the right codes, you could gain entry to any computer?”
“Yep.”
“I think this guy has done that somehow. Gained access to their computers from somewhere else, then erased his steps. It could be that the person who was after them knew what to tell the girls, to get rid of any trace on the computer, but I can’t think of any way he could have done that wi
thout raising a red flag.” Tom already knew this, but she explained in simple, non-computerese for the rest of the group. “Now, in comparing the Event Viewers from all of the computers, I’m able to see the record of when the machines were accessed and by whom. It’s just a really tedious process. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long.”
“Do you want some help checking all the computers for a common denominator?” Tom offered.
“Maybe. I’ll let you know. You need to get some rest.”
Tom shrugged. “I’ll be all right. Big brother’s work is never done.”
“Tom’s putting his younger brother and sister through college, working two, sometimes three, jobs,” Samantha said. “If he doesn’t slow down, he’s going to burn out.”
“That’s admirable,” Connor said. “What’re your other jobs?”
“Newspaper route when I’m in town, and I job share a security guard position at First National Bank.”
“Whoa. That’s a lot.”
“Tell me about it. It’s a shame I can’t split myself down the middle and be in two places at once.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Chelsea, my sister, after a rocky start, chose to be a nurse, thank goodness. Eventually that will pay her bills. She graduates in December. Ben’s got two more years at the business college. Then I can relax.”
“How is Chelsea?” Samantha knew the girl was having some issues related to a baby she’d given up for adoption two years ago. Waffling between wondering if she’d done the right thing or not.
“She’s better. Doing great in school. I’m proud of her.”
Connor’s phone rang. Andrew got up to look out the window one more time. Dakota kept his eyes on Jamie, whose face flushed every time he looked at her.
“Text message reports are back. Do you have a fax machine?”
“Of course.” She gave him the number and sat back to wait.
12
Connor scanned the reports. Miranda’s text messages were available for the last six days. Today was Saturday; she’d disappeared Tuesday. There’d been six texts on Monday, twelve on Tuesday, and then they stopped. They’d been sent and received from a total of four different numbers.
Three of the numbers turned out to be high school friends. The other one was from a prepaid phone that was now disconnected, of course.
Connor read through the messages. One caught his interest. “Will meet U 2nite. Mall Food Court. 7:00. Bringing a friend.”
The response: “Cool. I have ur pic. Will find u.”
“C U then.”
Dakota said, “That could be the one we need. Just looking at it doesn’t cause me any great concern, but knowing that she’s interested in modeling and the person has her picture . . . hmm.” He looked at Connor. “We need to find the friend she took with her. We already know it wasn’t the boyfriend. Mr. Petroskie has an airtight alibi for Tuesday night.”
“Where was he?” Samantha wanted to know.
Andrew answered, “Church youth group. They were bowling. He’s got about thirty witnesses who say he was there the whole time. I even got some pictures date and time stamped with him in them. He’s a jerk, but he didn’t have anything to do with Miranda’s disappearance or death.”
“One of the other phone numbers is in the name of a Mr. Vincent Mabry. I bet his daughter is Alyssa Mabry, the one Jenna mentioned.”
Samantha picked up the phone. “One way to find out. What’s the number?”
Jenna opened the door to let Patty into the house. Once again her father was out chasing the bad guys, her grandfather snored on the couch, and her gram had left to run errands. Patty’s car keys dangled from her fingers, and Jenna felt a pang of envy shoot through her. When would her dad ever let her get her license? Part of her understood his reluctance. She would admit she hadn’t been the easiest person to get along with in the last four years, but still . . .
“Hey, Jenna,” Patty rapped knuckles against Jenna’s forehead, “you in there?”
Jenna forced a laugh. “Sorry. Just wishing I could drive.”
“Yeah, it would be nice.”
“Come on upstairs, I want to show you something.”
“I thought we were meeting the boys at the club.” Some church had gotten together and built a place for teenagers to hang out. No alcohol, no smoking, but cool music and lots of video games, pool tables, a basketball court, volleyball area, and cheap “teen” food. It was a great place to meet— until the real fun began after dark.
“Just come upstairs for a minute.”
Patty gave a loud sigh, but followed her up the stairs.
Jenna didn’t bother telling Patty she had more fun at Teen Jam than she did at the parties that made her feel . . . like a piece of meat. Groping hands, ugly propositions, the alcohol she didn’t like, the smoke that choked her and permeated her clothes and hair. Ugh.
But she put up with it because it made her somebody in school, one of the in crowd. Not the poor losers who walked the halls alone or were the butt of cruel practical jokes and taunting harassment. She shook her head. No way would she ever allow herself to be put in that situation.
Jenna went to the computer and pulled up the IM she’d been typing. “This is 2COOL2BLV.”
Patty rolled her eyes. “Oh please, what kind of dumb screen name is that?”
“I know, but he’s so nice. Look. Here’s his picture.” A few clicks later and the image of a young man filled the screen.
“Ooooh, he’s yummy.” Patty moved in closer. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-two.”
“And he’s interested in you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Have you used the webcam? Made sure it was really him?”
“No, he says he doesn’t have a cam.”
Patty flung herself across the twin bed, pushing Jenna’s backpack out of the way. “Then I wouldn’t talk to him anymore. He could be some really old guy, like thirty-five, fat and bald or something.”
Jenna shrugged. “I don’t get that vibe from him.”
“Well, I sure wouldn’t meet him anywhere.”
“Well . . .”
Her friend bolted into a sitting position and eyed her, horrified. “Jenna, you wouldn’t!”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking about it. He’s just so . . .”
“So what?”
“There.”
“’Scuze me?”
Jenna stood, paced from one end of her room to the other. “He gets me.”
“And I don’t?”
“You’re my best girlfriend. And I want a boyfriend, but I’m just not interested in any of the guys at school. They’re so completely immature it’s not funny.” She looked back at the computer screen. “But he’s not. He’s real. We discuss Shakespeare, for crying out loud, the latest movies, the future.”
“What about Bradley Fox?”
Jenna felt her face heat. “Yeah, I like him, but he won’t give me the time of day.”
“It’s because he goes to church and all. We’re not the kind of girls Bradley wants to hang around with. Our ‘sinfulness’ might rub off on him.” Sarcasm dripped as she wiggled her fingers around the word.
Jenna frowned at her friend. “I don’t get that impression. He speaks to me when we’re in the hall, and when we were on that field trip, he sat with me on the bus. We had a good talk.”
“Huh. Well, all I know is, he acts like I’m contagious or something.”
Shrugging, Jenna kept her thoughts to herself. She slid a glance at her friend and nodded to the computer. “Anyway, this guy, he even said I have potential as a model.”
That caught Patty’s attention. “Wait a minute. That’s my thing, not yours.”
“I know, but you made it sound so fun. And if he thinks I might be able to do it . . .” She dug around in her dresser and pulled out a phone. “He even sent me my own phone so that we could stay in contact.” She didn’t tell Patty about the other envelope she’d received from him. She didn’t want to tell anyone about that, yet.
“What’s his name?”
“Danny.”
13
Arms crossed, Connor leaned back in the pew as the preacher delivered his sermon. He still hadn’t figured out how he’d managed to land here in this seat on this particular morning. He had a case to solve. And yet he’d agreed to come because Andrew had arranged for him to get up and talk to the teenagers about being extra careful, on their guard, both on the street and the internet. Now, he was finished and back in the pew, wondering if any of what he’d said had sunk in.
He squirmed again and Jenna shot him an aggravated look before turning her attention back to the preacher. Sitting to his left, Samantha cut him a questioning glance. Jamie, on the other side of Samantha, watched them all, bemusement written all over her.
Connor huffed and stilled. And tried to pay attention. How did Andrew suffer this week after week? His friend sat in front of him, arm around Angie who snuggled up under her new husband’s shoulder. Envy speared him. Yet, what right did he have wishing for companionship when he didn’t even make the time to spend with his own daughter? Shouldn’t she come first?
He closed his eyes, mental fatigue gripped him. Think about something else. He focused his mind on the case, resisted the urge to wiggle into a more comfortable position . . . and thought.
Alyssa Mabry had been out of town on a school field trip eight hours away. They’d sent local law enforcement to pick her up, but due to car trouble, they’d been delayed. However, they’d just received word that she’d be back tonight. They would have to wait until then to see what she knew about who Miranda was meeting that day. In his mind, he outlined the questions he wanted to ask her.
Connor shifted subtly, then peeked. No one looked at him that time. He closed his eyes again.
How was he going to get this guy? What was his motive? Find pregnant teens, kidnap them, wait for the baby to be born, then kill the mother?
Then sell the babies.
Black market babies.
But what had happened with Miranda Abrams?
Serena had been specific that she’d died from blood loss due to a botched abortion. If they wanted pregnant girls, why would they have aborted her baby?
Too Close to Home Page 11
