by Cindi Myers
“Sophie has spent the last three hours with Emma and Abby,” he said. “I think they’re both good judges of character. Let’s ask them what they think.”
* * *
BY THE TIME RAND, Graham and Michael joined them at the captain’s house, the three women were like old friends. They’d spent the afternoon discussing the wedding plans for Emma and Graham, and Michael and Abby. From there the conversation had moved on to books they’d read, music they enjoyed and jobs they’d held. They were sharing “worst boss ever” stories when the men showed up. Quickly, their attention shifted to the investigation.
“What did you find?” Emma asked, before Graham had even settled onto the sofa beside her.
“Nothing.” Graham rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “We didn’t find anything at all incriminating in that house.”
“But the closet...” Sophie began.
“The closet was empty,” Rand said. His eyes met hers, his expression hard and cold.
“Then he must have cleaned it out as soon as I left,” she said. “The guard would have told him I was in that bedroom. He’d have known what I saw, and that I’d tell you.”
“Or maybe you were...mistaken,” Michael said.
“There was no mistake in what I saw,” she said. “And what about the pictures I took?”
He shrugged. “Prentice’s attorney would say those pictures could have been taken anywhere. There was nothing to prove they were taken in Prentice’s house.”
Feeling sick, Sophie turned to Rand. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“I want to believe you.”
She turned away, not wanting him to see her hurt.
“You all have spent too much time around criminals.” Emma’s voice cut through the silence. “Sophie isn’t lying, any more than I was lying about seeing women’s cosmetics in Prentice’s bathroom.”
“Do you really think Sophie came all this way to stage some elaborate hoax?” Abby asked. She sounded indignant.
“No,” Rand said. “I think we’re all frustrated at our lack of progress.” He glared at Michael.
Michael looked away. “I was just playing devil’s advocate,” he said. “It’s important to look at an investigation from all angles.”
“So, what did you find at the house?” Emma asked. “What did Prentice say?”
Graham began describing their visit to the house. Sophie turned away. She wasn’t interested in any of this.
“I’m sorry.” Rand gripped her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Of course I believe you.”
“I wasn’t lying,” she said. “I didn’t stage the photos or make anything up.”
“I know that,” he said. “Why would you? You want your sister safe. I want that, too.”
He opened his arms and she went to him, letting him hold her, her head resting against his chest. She felt bone-weary and discouraged, too exhausted almost to stand. “This must be what it’s like for Lauren all the time,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Having people judge you, second-guess you, question your motives. Her illness has led her to do some ill-advised things in the past, but that doesn’t mean everything she does is irrational or because of her illness. Most of the time she’s as rational and ordinary as the rest of us. But a lot of people can’t see her that way, because of things that happened when she wasn’t well. It must make everything so much harder. It’s why she wanted so much to prove herself to her bosses. She wanted to show them that she was still an asset to the station, that she was still a good reporter.”
“We have the testimony of the hotel clerk that she met Alan Milbanks there, and we found the photograph in her car of Milbanks with Prentice,” Rand said. “Milbanks was involved in drug smuggling and distribution. Maybe Lauren uncovered that and confronted him. That made him angry and he—or someone he hired—decided to silence her.”
Sophie shuddered at his words. Not that she hadn’t made herself face that her sister might not be alive after all this time, but hearing someone else say as much was hard to bear. “If Milbanks was her target, what did she gain by confronting him at the hotel?” she asked. “Why not just go to the police with whatever evidence she had? Her story would be his arrest and conviction. She had nothing to gain by taunting him.”
“Then what was she doing, meeting with him?”
“What if Milbanks promised to cooperate with her by revealing someone higher up the food chain?” Sophie asked. “He gave her the photograph as proof, but then that person—Richard Prentice?—found out.”
“That would explain both Lauren’s disappearance and Milbanks’s murder,” Rand said. “Except, so far at least, we don’t have any evidence that Prentice is linked to either of those crimes.”
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“We’ll keep digging. Maybe focus on Milbanks, look at his financial records, phone records, talk to people who knew him. We’ll try to get as complete a picture as possible of how he operated. That may help us figure out how he knew Lauren, and if Prentice is involved at all.”
Paperwork. She had no doubt this kind of research was important, but they needed action to rescue her sister. “Meanwhile, Lauren is still out there, missing.”
He caressed her shoulder. “I know it’s hard. I wish I could do more. We’ll keep searching for her, I promise.”
“I know she wouldn’t go this long without contacting me. And now I’m more sure than ever that Richard Prentice is the ‘Mr. Wonderful’ she mentioned in her letter. But what has he done with her?”
“I don’t know. But I’m ready to listen to any ideas you have.”
“Are you, really?” She studied the eyes she couldn’t help thinking of as kind, the strong slant of his nose, the firm jut of his chin. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, but he had strength and character, and she trusted him not to lie to her. “You don’t think I’m being hysterical, or mentally unbalanced, or obsessed?” she asked. “You don’t think I’m making things up?”
“No. I believe you care for your sister very much, and you’re doing everything you can to see that she’s safe.”
She glanced toward the others, who had moved to the kitchen and were making sandwiches. “Your coworkers don’t feel the same. They think I’m making all this up. Maybe they don’t even believe I’m Lauren’s sister.”
He winced. “Cops are trained to be suspicious. It’s a useful trait for an investigator, and sometimes it keeps us alive.”
“I believe Lauren is still alive. And after what I saw today, I think she’s with Richard Prentice.”
“We searched everywhere in that house and we didn’t find so much as a hair.”
“He’s hiding her, then. He moved her and all her things when he knew you all were coming.”
“We didn’t call ahead and warn him,” he said.
“You said yourself, he has contacts everywhere. Someone from the judge’s office could have called him. Or he might have figured out what I’d seen and moved her in case I came back.”
“Yes, that could have happened. But where would he hide her?”
“Some place close. Probably still on the ranch. Did you search any outbuildings?”
“Our warrant was only for the main house and garage. The property has some other structures on it, everything from housing for his guards to log bunkhouses dating from the late eighteen hundreds.”
“Lauren could be in any one of those. How can you get back there to look?”
“I don’t think he’d use one of those other buildings and risk her being seen. He knows we fly surveillance over the property occasionally.”
“He could put her in a vehicle and drive her to wherever she was going,” Sophie said.
“Or he could use a tunnel.”
She frowned. “A tunnel?”
“We’ve heard rumors that he has a tunnel connecting the house to an old mine near the house,” Rand said. “We thought he might be using the mine to hide contraband, but we never got a look inside.” He took her arm. “Let’s run this by the others and see what they think.”
When they walked into the kitchen, Emma looked up from spreading mustard on a slice of bread. “Do you two want something to eat?” she asked. “I’ve got ham and turkey, and a couple of different kinds of cheese.”
“Not right now, thanks.” He turned to Graham. “Captain, I have an idea where Prentice might be hiding Lauren.”
Graham swallowed a bite of sandwich. “What’s your idea?”
“Maybe he has her in that mine—the one where we thought he’d stashed the missile? Supposedly there’s a tunnel that connects the mine to the house. It would be easy to move a person there from the house without being seen.”
“I looked for any kind of secret passage or door when we were in the house today,” Michael said. “I didn’t find anything.”
“It could be a very sophisticated mechanism, one we wouldn’t be able to find without special equipment we didn’t have with us today,” Rand said.
“Even if you’re right, I don’t know what we can do about it,” Graham said. “By this time Prentice is raising so much hell in the press and with every politician he has in his pocket that a judge will never give us another search warrant.”
“Then we go in without a warrant. We sneak in at night.”
“That’s illegal,” Graham said. “And it’s dangerous. If he is hiding someone—or something—in that mine, he’ll have guards watching.”
“We’ll avoid the guards,” Rand said. “Or I could go in alone. No sense risking anyone else.”
“I’d go with you,” Sophie said.
“Do that and I really will arrest you for trespassing,” Graham said.
“Do you think I care about that when my sister could be in danger?”
“Let me go, Captain,” Rand said. “If I get caught, you can suspend me and deny any knowledge.”
“I wouldn’t do that. In this organization, we’ve always got each other’s backs.” He pressed his lips together, silent for a moment. Sophie waited, scarcely breathing, the muscles in Rand’s arm tense beneath her hand.
“Take Marco with you,” Graham said. “You’ll have to hike in from federal land.”
Rand nodded. “We’ll go tonight, about ten. There’s no moon, but the weather is supposed to be clear. I’ll get with Marco now to start planning.”
He turned to Sophie. “You’ll be all right here, won’t you?”
“Take me back to your place,” she said. “Emma has to cover a council meeting tonight for her paper and Graham will be working.” She wouldn’t be comfortable staying by herself with the gruff captain.
“All right.” He patted her hand. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck. And...thank you.”
He pulled her close. “I’ll do my best to find her.”
She nodded, unable to speak. As much as she wanted Lauren safe, what if she lost Rand in the process?
Chapter Fifteen
Rand and Marco set out in the dark, with backpacks and night-vision goggles. They’d spent the early evening studying the layout of Prentice’s ranch, choosing the best approach to the old mine. They’d decided to approach from the rear, over rugged country, reasoning that this section of the ranch would be less heavily patrolled. The guards would expect a threat to come from the front of the ranch, from the road.
The going was tough, scrabbling up loose talus slopes, climbing down into cactus-choked gorges. The two didn’t say much, communicating mostly in grunts and hand gestures, focused on the task at hand. They saw the lights from the house long before they could make out the structure itself, the floodlights sending up a pink glow like the light pollution from a small city, blotting out the stars.
When the building itself was in view, Marco thrust out a hand, signaling to stop. He pointed in the distance, and Rand made out the pinpoints of two headlights. The lights drew closer and closer, the vehicle in no hurry, crawling over the rough terrain. The two men flattened themselves, faces pressed to the ground. Rand could hear the rumble of the Jeep’s engine now, and the growl of tires on gravel. The beams of light passed over their heads, and then were gone. Rand crawled closer to Marco. “Did you get a look at them?” he asked.
“Two of Prentice’s guards,” Marco said. “Regular patrol. They shouldn’t be back this way for an hour, at least.”
Marco led the way toward the old mine. Iron bars set too close together for anything larger than a pack rat to pass through blocked the entrance, a common safety precaution in a country littered with abandoned shafts. Marco motioned to move around to the side. Two hundred yards farther on they found a second entrance, a dark hole with cool air coming from it. They peered inside and saw a single guard, leaning against the wall, dozing.
Rand nudged Marco. Bingo. Why set a guard over an abandoned mine unless there was something inside worth guarding?
Marco motioned that he would go first and Rand should cover. Both men drew their duty weapons. Marco crept along the passage, keeping close to the wall. When he reached the dozing guard, he clamped one hand over his mouth and twisted his arm back and up, forcing him to his knees.
Rand hurried forward and together they tied up and gagged the guard. Rand shouldered the AR-15 the man had carried, and Marco pocketed his pistol. “We don’t have long now,” Marco said. “They probably have to check in at regular intervals.”
They moved on down the passage, which was tall enough for them to walk upright, one behind the other. Rand’s heart raced and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He’d never particularly liked enclosed spaces. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths of the cool, dusty air. “What’s that smell?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the ammonia-tinged odor.
“Bats,” Marco said. “They like caves and old mine shafts.”
“I wish we had Lotte with us. She’d probably take us right to Lauren if she’s here.”
“It’s harder to be stealthy with a dog,” Marco said.
“Lotte can be stealthy, but I thought it would be better to leave her with Sophie.”
“I thought she was afraid of dogs.”
“She is, but Lotte will protect her.”
Sophie had protested when he insisted on leaving the dog, but the memory of the slashed underwear and the menacing message in her hotel room made him adamant. “She won’t hurt you,” he’d reassured her. “But she will hurt anyone who comes after you.”
“There’s a light up ahead,” Marco said softly.
Rand spotted the faint glow from the side passage. They moved faster toward it, but stopped abruptly when they spotted a second guard. This one was awake, pacing back and forth. Marco’s eyes met Rand’s. Rush him, he mouthed, and Rand nodded.
Guns drawn, the two rushed the guard, and were on him before he could ready his weapon to fire. “What are you guarding, pal?” Rand asked as he bound the man’s wrists with plastic zip ties.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Suit yourself.” Marco stuffed a gag in the man’s mouth and slapped on a strip of duct tape. “Let’s go.” He jerked his head toward the passage the guard had been watching over.
The room was dimly lit with two lanterns hung from nails on opposite walls, and set up like a bedroom, complete with a queen-sized bed, a dresser and a fuzzy pink rug beneath their feet. Someone stirred beneath the heap of quilts on the bed, then sat up, staring at them.
“Lauren Starling,” Marco said, and she began to scream.
* * *
SOPHIE SAT RIGID on the sofa in Rand’s duplex, hands clenched tightly in her lap, her breathing shallow. Every few seconds she
glanced at the dog who lay on her pad in the corner, mouth open to reveal gleaming white teeth, golden eyes fixed on Sophie.
She’d argued with Rand when he insisted on leaving the dog with her, but he’d been stubborn. “She’ll protect you,” he’d said.
“I’m afraid of her.” Something he would never understand.
“Then now is a good time for you to get to know her, to work on getting over your fear.” He squeezed her arm. “I’ve seen how strong you are. How brave you are. If you can risk Prentice’s guards, you can risk spending a few hours with Lotte.”
“How is she going to protect me?”
“She’ll hear someone coming before you will. And she’s trained to defend me with her life. She’ll do the same for you.”
“Leave me a gun. I can protect myself.”
His expression grew skeptical. “How much shooting have you done?
“None.”
“Then Lotte will be better protection,” he’d concluded.
She looked at the dog again, trying to see her objectively as a beautiful animal. Her fur gleamed in the lamplight, gold with black tips, thick and looking as soft as a Persian rug. Dark hair ringed her eyes, making her appear to be wearing eyeliner, and her lashes were as long and lush as any starlet’s. The idea almost made Sophie giggle. She must have made some sound, because Lotte pricked up her ears and cocked her head in a quizzical gesture.
“I’m sure you think I’m crazy,” Sophie said. “Why not? Everyone else does. Rand is the only one who—maybe—believes in me.”
At Rand’s name, Lotte lifted her head higher and began to pant harder. “I want to believe him when he says you won’t hurt me,” Sophie said. “It’s just hard. Not your fault, I know. I think I used to like dogs before...before the accident.” She ran her hand along the jaw, where the scars had been, before plastic surgery had rendered them invisible. “It was just so terrifying. I was only a child and it’s like an involuntary reaction—I look at a dog and my body remembers.”
Lotte sighed and rested her head on her paws, though her gold-brown eyes remained alert and fixed on Sophie. “If Rand and I are ever going to do anything about these feelings between us—whatever those feelings are—then you and I had better learn to get along.” Sophie felt a little foolish, talking to the dog, but the conversation soothed her, and Lotte didn’t seem to mind. And who else did she have to talk to about these things? “I’ve never been in love before,” she said. “Not real love. So I don’t know if this is what it feels like. And I don’t even know if the two of us—together—are a good idea. I mean, I live in Madison. A long way from here. And he’s here. And then there’s Lauren. When they find her—and I have to believe they’ll find her—I have no idea what she’s been through. She may need me to focus all my attention on her, and would that be fair to Rand?”
