by Irene Hannon
"I don't know anything about the crime, period. I had no idea the doll or my feelings were connected to it:"
With a glance at Nick, Mark closed the file in his lap. "I think that's all we need today, Ms. Sutton. Sorry to interrupt your day. We'd appreciate it if you'd keep the reason for our visit confidential:"
The two men rose. Rachel stood too.
"Give me a minute" Nick spoke to Mark but kept his gaze fixed on Rachel.
With a nod, the dark-haired man exited.
As the door shut behind him, Nick started to take a step toward her. Stopped. "I'm sorry about this, Rachel:"
She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing they were Nick's arms. "Do you believe me?"
"Yes"
At his immediate response, and the honesty in his eyes, she slowly exhaled. "I don't understand what's going on, Nick"
"We don't, either."
"I don't believe in ESP"
"Neither do we."
"But I can't think of any other explanation. My feelings of anxiety began when the baby was taken. And I had a very strong reaction to the doll:" She felt the pressure of tears in her throat and tried to swallow past it. "What happens next?"
"I'm flying to Chicago to meet with the case agent this afternoon and get up to speed on all of the details. While I'm gone, our local agents will interview the staff at the Bread Company."
"That's a long shot, isn't it? The doll could have been dropped anytime that first month after the baby disappeared. I didn't find it until early February."
"It's more likely the abductor ditched it soon after the baby was taken. Maybe even the same night. Our agents will be focusing on staff working those first few days"
"Do you think the baby's still in town?"
"It's possible. The fact that you found the doll at a neighborhood mall suggests the abductor wasn't just making a quick exit from the highway for food while en route somewhere else" He took a step closer and dropped his voice. "I want you to be careful, Rachel:"
The intensity in his eyes put her on alert. "Why?"
"Your name's already been connected to this crime publicly."
"You mean St. Louis Scene? But the story never mentioned the kidnapping"
"The abductor will make the connection-if he or she read it."
A shock wave rippled through her, and she groped for the back of her chair. Nick's fingers closed around her upper arm, steadying her.
"I never thought of that"
"Don't obsess about this. I doubt the kidnapper saw it. I just want you to be aware-and cautious:"
She tucked her hair behind her ear with fingers that weren't quite steady. "This isn't the way I expected to start my week:"
"That makes two of us"
She took off her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose, and a tremor ran through her words. "I've felt alone before, but never quite like I do now"
Reaching over, Nick lifted the slender gold cross that hung around her neck and weighed it in his hand. "You're never alone, Rachel. Hold on to this when you need a friend. If you talk, he'll listen"
Somehow she managed a half smile. "But he doesn't talk back. Not that I can hear, anyway."
"It takes a little practice to hear his voice." He released the cross. For a second, as his fingers brushed the silk of her blouse, his eyes deepened in color and she thought he was going to step forward and give her a hug. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Call me if you need anything"
"Does that mean you aren't going to call me?" She'd intended the question to sound teasing, but it came out wistful.
"I think it would be wise to suspend our ... social ... relationship for the duration:"
"Because you have doubts about me?"
"No" His response was immediate-and convincing. "But I want to work this case. And if my boss thinks we're involved in any way I'll get yanked:"
His response made sense. That didn't mean she had to like this latest turn of events, however.
"Okay. Will you ... or someone ... let me know what's going on?"
"Yes. That's a promise" He took her hand and linked his fingers with hers. "And here's another one. When this is all over, you and I will make up for lost time"
With a gentle squeeze, he released her and slipped through the door.
Quiet descended in the office, and Rachel sank back into her chair. She needed to get back to her music class-but she also needed a couple of minutes to let her nerves settle. Fingering the cross, she tried to take comfort in Nick's assurance that she was never alone. A passage from the Scripture reading in yesterday's service echoed in her mind: "I am with you always, even unto the end of the world:' It was a nice promise. And one day, if her faith grew, perhaps it would console her as it did Nick.
But at this moment, she preferred to take comfort in Nick's parting promise that he intended this unexpected glitch to be merely a brief detour on the road to a relationship.
And she was determined to let that hope sustain her through whatever lay ahead.
"I'm happy to go over the case with you in person, but we could probably have done this by phone and saved you a trip:" Matt Carson directed his comment to Nick as he set two disposable cups of coffee on the conference room table in the multi-story Chicago field office.
Nick turned away from the wall of glass that offered a panoramic view of the darkening skyline. The shadows under his fellow agent's eyes and fine lines radiating from their corners suggested he'd been putting in long hours on the O'Neil kidnapping. The frustration of being the lead agent on a high-profile case that was stagnating had no doubt added more flecks of white to his liberally salted dark hair.
"There are some rather odd twists to this scenario that I thought would be better discussed in person" Nick took a seat at the conference table, where Matt had stacked multiple files in anticipation of their meeting. Nick added several of his own to the pile.
"I don't care how odd they are if they help us get a better handle on this case'
"You might want to reserve judgment on that until you hear what I've got. But first I'd appreciate a briefing"
The man took a swig of his coffee, pulled one of the files toward him, and opened it. "On January 4, about ten in the morning, Megan O'Neil was snatched while her mother, an organist, was at church practicing for the Sunday service. Rebecca O'Neil went to the ladies room, someone locked her in, and by the time the pastor discovered her an hour later after receiving a worried phone call from her husband when Mrs. O'Neil didn't answer her cell phone, the abductor and baby were long gone. The church has no security cameras, and no one in the neighborhood saw anything suspicious. We canvassed the whole area:'
"What about trace evidence?"
"Nothing inside or out. No suspicious prints, no tire marks, no fibers. Nada"
"Did the parents check out?"
"Clean as a whistle. The father is a well-respected architect. In addition to playing the organ at church, the mother teaches at a dance studio. They've been married five years and have one other child, Bridget, who's two. No known enemies"
"And no contact from the abductor?"
"Not a word"
"What did the profilers at Quantico have to say?"
"That our abductor is a woman in her thirties or forties who simply wanted a baby. Her clean escape suggests she's intelligent-but perhaps psychotic. The profiler mentioned delusional disorder as a possibility. She said people suffering from that form of psychosis can be very functional in other areas of their life and often don't exhibit any bizarre or odd behavior except in relation to their delusion"
Nick tapped the end of his pen on the table, his expression thoughtful. "Does that mean you're operating on the assumption the baby is alive and well?"
"Until we prove otherwise. But the behavior of people with mental illness is very unpredictable. If the baby began to annoy her, she could have gotten rid of it. Dumped it in a garbage bin. Stuck it in a freezer. Thrown it in a lake. You know as well as I do the countless c
reative ways people can be eliminated"
"Yeah" Nick had seen plenty in his years with the Bureau and on his beat as a street cop. Man's inhumanity to man no longer had the power to turn his stomach, but he hoped he never got so immune to cruelty that he took it in stride.
"You're welcome to review all the files" Matt gestured to the table.
"I'd like to make a quick pass through them, at least. Today, if that's okay."
"Sure. Stay as late as you like. But first tell me about the doll:"
Nick opened one of the files he'd brought and slid a printout of the Raggedy Ann doll across the table to Matt. "It's the same one that's in the photo of Megan O'Neil. The patch on the face is an exact match. We sent the doll to the lab, but I'm not sure it will yield any useful information. A woman found it in a Bread Company parking lot three weeks ago. We don't know how long it was exposed to the elements"
"Where has it been since she found it?"
Heat crept up Nick's neck. "In the corner of my office"
"You didn't do anything with it?"
"I had no reason to. After we made the connection with the O'Neil baby, I double-checked the descriptions of her the day she was abducted to see if I'd missed anything. There was only a brief mention of a Raggedy Ann doll. Nothing to indicate its condition or the patch above the eye"
"The mother didn't give us too many details about the doll. We didn't press her. We assumed it would be discarded immediately. That was our mistake. How did you get it?"
"This is the odd part of the story." Nick braced for the agent's response, the cardboard cup flexing beneath his fingers as his grip tightened. "It was brought in by a Rachel Sutton, who found it buried in a pile of melting slush. She said it gave her bad vibes"
The skepticism on the agent's face didn't surprise Nick. But it rankled him. Nevertheless, he kept his mouth shut.
"That's pretty off the wall:"
"I thought the same thing, until a psychologist offered a reasonable explanation:" Nick filled him in on Emily's theory. "After that, I shoved the doll in a corner and forgot about it until I saw the picture of Megan this morning:" He took a sip of coffee. "The other odd part of this is that Ms. Sutton has been feeling unsettled and anxious for several weeks. When we pinned her down this afternoon about the onset of that feeling, it coincides almost to the minute with the kidnapping"
The other agent's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about this Rachel Sutton?"
Nick consulted his file, giving Matt the highlights.
"Busy lady," the other agent noted. "Married?"
"No. And no family. She grew up an orphan, in foster care:"
"Stable?"
"Yes. There's no history of any psychological problems:"
"How does she explain these feelings she gets?"
"She can't. She's as puzzled as we are" Nick closed the file. "I don't believe in ESP, but something strange is going on here. I keep thinking there's some sort of connection we're missing. Some piece of the puzzle that's fallen under the table. That's why I want to review these files"
"Could be a late night" Matt withdrew a business card from his pocket, scribbled on the back, and handed it to Nick. "If you stumble onto anything, call me. Anytime. That's my home number, for insurance:" He rose, stretched, and took Nick's hand in a firm clasp. "You know, I'm tempted to tell you not to waste your time. But I've seen more than a few bizarre twists in my career. And I've learned to follow my gut on hunches. If you think there might be a clue in all this stuff"-he waved his hand over the table-"I say go for it. If nothing pans out, the only thing lost will be a night's sleep. Good luck"
Four hours and five cups of coffee later, Nick wished Matt's parting wish had paid off. But luck had been elusive. He'd been through most of the files and was no closer to understanding Rachel's vibes than he had been before.
Pulling the last file toward him, he flipped through it. More photos of Megan, and he'd already seen plenty of those. They weren't going to help.
He was about to close the file and call it a night when a studio shot caught his eye. It showed the smiling family of four in holiday attire, meaning it was pretty recent. Perhaps it had graced their Christmas cards. The mother-Rebecca O'Neilwas holding the newest addition, her features soft with tenderness as she cuddled the infant close.
Nick scrutinized the woman. There was something familiar about her. Although he'd seen her black and white photo in the newspaper after the kidnapping, he sensed there was more to his reaction than that.
Selecting a background file from the stacks on the table, he checked her stats. Born Rebecca Michelle Pearson in Columbia, Missouri. Age thirty-five. Mother, homemaker. Father, university professor. Dual degree in music and education. She'd taught until the birth of her first child. After that, she'd taken a part-time job as organist at her church. She also taught a couple of classes at a local dance studio.
Nothing there to help him.
Nick stifled a yawn and checked his watch. No wonder his brain wasn't clicking on all cylinders. He'd put in an eventful fourteen-hour day. It was time to get some food and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, when he was fresher, he'd tackle this puzzle again.
Sooner or later, he'd pin down why Rebecca Pearson O'Neil seemed familiar. It might turn out to be irrelevant to this case. But he didn't intend to leave a single stone unturned.
By five-thirty Tuesday morning, after six hours of sleep, Nick was wide awake. The image of the young mother had haunted his slumber, but he was no closer to figuring out why she looked familiar than he had been last night. He had, however, decided on a next step.
Rummaging through his suit coat, he extracted the card Matt Carson had given him and punched the man's cell number into his BlackBerry. The agent answered on the second ring.
"Matt, Nick Bradley. Sorry for the early call, but I'd like to talk with the O'Neils this morning before I fly back to St. Louis"
"Did you find something last night?"
"Nothing specific. I'm following another hunch. Rebecca O'Neil reminds me of someone, and I can't put my finger on who it is. I'm hoping if I see her in person it will click. Any problem arranging a meeting?"
"No. It would be a good opportunity for me to tell them about the doll. They've been through hell these past few weeks, and I hate to raise false hopes. But they need to know about it sooner or later. I'll set things up with them and pick you up in an hour"
Fifty-nine minutes later, Nick was waiting in the foyer of the hotel when Matt pulled up. He stowed his overnight bag in the backseat and slid in beside the agent.
"The good news is we're early enough to miss rush hour." Matt pulled away from the hotel and nosed into the already-heavy traffic. "The bad news is that even though I told Mrs. O'Neil we've made no significant progress on the case, she assumes our visit means there's been a new development that could help us find her daughter. Parents cling to hope in these situations long after there's any reason to."
Twenty-five minutes later, as Matt pulled up in front of the white-clapboard Colonial the couple called home, the door opened to reveal a man with his arm around a woman's shoulders. The distraught parents, who had obviously been watching for them, radiated an almost palpable anticipation.
"See what I mean?" Matt said under his breath as they traversed the brick walkway.
The man pushed the storm door open as they approached and ushered them inside. About five-ten, he looked to be close to forty, with a haggard face and premature flecks of silver in his dark hair. "Agent Carson, it's good to see you" He nodded to the man and extended his hand to Nick. "Colin O'Neil. This is my wife, Rebecca"
"Nick Bradley" Nick shook hands with each of them. The man's grip was firm, but he could feel a quiver in the woman's delicate fingers. She was about five-four, with the high cheekbones of a classic beauty and the turned-up nose of a pixie. An interesting combination. Her short brown hair, soft and fluffed around her face, was touched with auburn highlights. The dark smudges under her eyes offered a stark contr
ast to her pale complexion, and she was painfully thin.
When Matt had said they'd been through hell, he hadn't been exaggerating. It was obvious the trauma of the kidnapping had taken a heavy toll on both parents.
"Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable:" Colin swept a hand toward the living room, where upholstered couches flanked a fireplace mantel topped with long tapers in brass candlesticks.
The two agents took one couch as the parents perched across from them. Colin clasped Rebecca's hand and leaned forward. "You have new information?"
Matt tipped his head toward Nick, giving him the floor.
Withdrawing a file from his portfolio, Nick flipped it open. "This was found in St. Louis three weeks ago and turned over to the FBI. Yesterday, we realized the significance." He laid the computer-generated print of the Raggedy Ann doll on the coffee table between them. "I happened to notice what appeared to be orange yarn at the very bottom of a picture of Megan in the FBI file. I asked for the full shot and discovered we had a match"
Rebecca leaned close to examine the printout. "You found Megan's doll!" She gasped and snatched up the paper, clutching it against her chest. "Where? How?"
While Nick explained, he observed the young mother. In person, the sense of familiarity was even stronger. Yet he was certain they'd never met.
"You mean some woman turned the doll in because she got a bad feeling from it?"
At the cautious question from Colin, Nick transferred his attention to the baby's father. "Yes. We discounted it-until we made the connection to the kidnapping. This woman has also been uneasy since the day and hour your child was abducted"
"Are we talking ESP here?" Skepticism edged out some of the hope in Colin's eyes.
"We don't know how to explain it," Nick replied.
"I don't care what the explanation is, as long as it helps us find Megan" Rebecca leaned forward, her features taut. "What does this discovery mean in terms of the case? Do you think this woman might be involved?"
"No. We checked her out, Nick said.
"And I'm afraid the discovery doesn't mean much:" Matt gentled his tone. "The St. Louis office is questioning employees at the restaurant where the doll was found, but it's unlikely anyone will remember anything significant. That's why I told you earlier that we're no closer to finding Megan than we were before"
