In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3)

by Irene Hannon

  Like a psychic who picked up vibes from a Raggedy Ann doll.

  Not that she put much credence in such things herself. Who did? But neither did she have a closed mind. Perhaps once in a great while there was a person who had special abilities. She'd learned a lot while writing the original article, and there were definitely things in the psychic world that logic couldn't explain. Maybe this was one of them. If the FBI was still in touch with Rachel Sutton, they must think so.

  Neither the Bureau nor Rachel had been willing to talk to her before, but Claudia intended to give it one more try. Even one quote would enhance the article.

  Retrieving her purse from the seat beside her, Claudia was about to open her door when a second car pulled to a stop across the street from Rachel's house.

  Fingers poised on the handle, she watched-and waited.

  One minute passed. Two. Three. There was no movement from the car, and it was too dark for Claudia to see who was inside.

  Five minutes went by. Her car began to chill in the subfreezing temperature, and she tapped one gloved finger on the steering wheel. Who was in the car? What were they waiting for? Did they have any connection to Rachel Sutton, or was it just a teenage couple that, by chance, had chosen this spot to do a little making out?

  After six minutes, Claudia decided she'd waited long enough. Her fingers were getting numb, and whoever was in that car didn't seem inclined to move.

  Slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, she settled her notebook in the crook of her arm and slid out of her car.

  She'd gone no more than a dozen feet when the door opened on the other vehicle and a slender woman stepped out. Claudia slowed her pace, watching. The woman adjusted her coat, smoothed her hair, tucked a clutch bag under her arm. Crossing the street, she headed for Rachel's house.

  She seemed familiar, though the ornate streetlights were more decorative than practical, leaving her face in shadows. Wanting a closer look, Claudia picked up her pace.

  Not until the woman stepped from the street onto the sidewalk in front of Rachel's house did she notice Claudia. She stopped, twisted away, fiddled with her handbag. Claudia, on the other hand, didn't falter. She kept on walking, directing an innocuous smile at the woman as she drew close.

  "Cold night, isn't it?"

  The woman lifted her chin, offering a return smile that seemed forced as the dim glow from the streetlight illuminated her face. "Yes. Very."

  Claudia almost had apoplexy.

  It was Rebecca O'Neil.

  The kidnapped baby's mother.

  She recognized her from the newspaper photos she'd seen less than an hour ago.

  Somehow, Claudia managed to rein in her shock and keep walking. She couldn't turn around until Rebecca O'Neil entered the house. That might raise suspicions.

  But in three minutes, she planned to run, not walk, back to her car.

  Because this was the scoop of a lifetime! Rachel Sutton and the FBI could say they didn't believe in psychics, but as far as Claudia was concerned, actions spoke louder than words.

  St. Louis Scene readers would eat this up.

  Rebecca checked her watch. Six-thirty on the dot. It was time to meet her sister.

  She lifted her hand, preparing to knock. Hesitated. Tried to regulate her breathing. Failed.

  What if they didn't like each other? What if this reunion disrupted both their lives? What if ...

  The door was pulled open, interrupting her panicked musings. Special Agent Nick Bradley stood on the other side, as if he'd been watching for her. As if he'd suspected she'd get cold feet. As if he'd guessed she might need a final nudge to walk over the threshold and into a different future.

  "Hello, Mrs. O'Neil. We've been waiting for you:" He smiled and leaned closer, dropping his voice as he winked. "And Rachel is just as nervous about this as you are"

  Some of Rebecca's tension melted away. It was going to be okay. She'd prayed about this, and in her heart she knew she was doing the right thing. Meeting Rachel might not restore Megan to her arms-the FBI agent had already explained that there was little chance the link Rachel felt toward her would extend to her daughter-but sisters should know each other.

  Taking a fortifying breath, she stepped inside.

  From her spot next to the fireplace, beside their mother's picture, Rachel watched Rebecca O'Neil-her twin sister-enter her home. She'd searched out her picture on the internet after Nick dropped his bombshell, so she'd known what Rebecca looked like. But a photo couldn't compare to seeing the living, breathing person.

  As Nick slipped the coat off Rebecca's shoulders and took her purse, the sisters locked gazes. In unison, they moistened their lips with the tips of their tongues and tucked their hair behind their ear. Startled by the mirror-image gesture, Rachel stared at Rebecca. Rebecca stared back.

  Unsure if her unsteady legs would support her, Rachel managed a tremulous smile. She walked toward her sister and held out her hand. "Welcome"

  Instead of taking her hand, Rebecca enfolded her in a hug. "I think sisters can do better than a handshake, don't you?"

  The tears in Rebecca's voice paralleled the ones welling in Rachel's eyes as she returned the embrace. "Absolutely. I'm just sorry our meeting was under these circumstances"

  "Me too:" Rebecca stepped out of the hug but took both of Rachel's hands in her own. "But I haven't given up hope. I know everyone is doing everything they can to find Megan. Just like you did, by going to the FBI with the doll. That took a lot of courage. I can imagine the reaction you got:"

  Rachel flicked a glance at Nick over Rebecca's shoulder. "To be honest, I was shown a lot more consideration than I expected"

  "I'm glad for that, anyway." She blinked again and swiped the moisture out of her eyes, managing a shaky laugh. "You know, even if we didn't have the paperwork to prove we were identical twins, this is pretty powerful evidence:" She gestured toward their attire.

  Now that Rebecca had pointed it out, the striking similarity in their choice of clothing for the evening registered. Like Rachel, Rebecca wore black pumps, a slim black skirt, and a silk blouse in the very same jacquard pattern and style. Hers, however, was teal blue instead of teal green.

  Rachel shook her head. "Wow. This is weird"

  "Here's something else weird." Rebecca walked over to the couch and fingered the wool throw. "Is this from Pottery Barn?"

  "Yes"

  "I have the exact same one in our family room."

  Perching on the arm of the couch, Rachel folded her arms. "Nick told me you're into music too. What's your favorite musical?"

  "Camelot:" At Rachel's grin, Rebecca smiled. "Let me guess. Yours too?"

  "Yep. Do you like chocolate?"

  "Love it"

  "Dark or milk?"

  "Milk. Is there any other kind worth eating?"

  I agree' Rachel tipped her head, beginning to enjoy this. "But I hate coconut"

  "Me too. I can also live without peas. Unless we're having them tonight .."

  "Not a chance. I put peas in the same category as castor oil. Now broccoli ... that's another story."

  "I love broccoli:"

  "Good. Because it's on the menu. And speaking of food, dinner is served. I thought you might be hungry after your long drive"

  "Starved. May I freshen up first?"

  "Of course. First door on your right, down the hall:"

  As Rebecca disappeared, Rachel turned toward the kitchenand caught sight of Nick by the front door. He stood with one shoulder propped against the wall, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, toe planted in her carpet. With a smile, he pushed off and ambled toward her. "Looks like you don't need me to run interference after all. The ice has not only been broken, it's melted. How about I make a quiet exit and leave you two to catch up?"

  "No way. I promised you dinner" She took his arm and drew him toward the dining room. "Besides, there might be a lag in the conversation and we'll need you to step in"

  "Okay. You don't have to twist my
arm. The food smells great"

  But in the end, Rachel had to admit his presence was superfluous. She and Rebecca gabbed nonstop during dinner, as if they'd known each other for all of their thirty-five years, often finishing each other's sentences. Periodically they remembered Nick's presence and tried to include him in the lively exchange, but she wasn't surprised when he set his napkin on the table after dessert and rose.

  "I think I'm ready to call it a night, ladies"

  Both women checked their traditional-style gold watches.

  "I can't believe it's nine o'clock already" Rebecca shook her head.

  "You're sure you can't stay a little longer?" Rachel asked Nick.

  "Not tonight."

  "I'll walk you out, then. Excuse me for a minute, Rebecca?"

  "Don't hurry. I'm loving this Irish cream coffee. Nick, thank you for setting this up" She extended her hand.

  "It was my pleasure." After taking her fingers in a firm grip, he followed Rachel to the living room. She already had his coat out, and he grinned. "Anxious to get rid of me, I see"

  "Not at all." She lowered his coat. "Would you like to stay longer?"

  He touched her cheek, his eyes softening. "I was kidding. I'm happy you two hit it off."

  She leaned into his touch, and at the pressure against his fingers he cupped her chin and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. When he spoke, the husky cadence in his voice told her she wasn't the only one affected by the simple contact. "Enjoy the moment, okay? These kinds of special nights don't happen often"

  "Rachel, is there any more cream in ... oops, sorry." Rebecca took a step back and gave them a rueful smile as Nick dropped his hand. "I'll find some in the kitchen. Don't rush your goodbyes on my account"

  "I have a feeling I'm going to get teased about this later. Siblings are like that, from everything I've heard" Rachel smiled, liking the sound of that word. "But you know what? I don't mind in the least"

  "What will you tell her?" Nick took the coat and slipped his arms into the sleeves.

  She gave him an assessing look. "What should I tell her?"

  "How about the truth? That we're dating"

  "Are we?"

  "Count on it. As soon as this case is over."

  A delicious tingle zipped through her. "Too bad I can't speed the process along. I wish this telepathy thing extended beyond Rebecca" Some of her happiness dimmed. "She's put up a good front tonight, Nick, but losing a child to kidnapping ... it has to be awful. When I hugged her, I could feel her bones. She's way too thin. And even makeup can't camouflage the dark circles under eyes'

  "I noticed. But we don't have a lot to work with. The leads have pretty much dried up"

  "Rebecca hasn't given up"

  "I know"

  "Has the FBI? Please, Nick ... tell me the truth"

  He searched her face, and she could tell he was weighing his response.

  "It's been eight weeks, Rachel. The kidnapper could be anywhere by now. Megan may not..." He stopped for a moment. "Let me put it this way. We don't often see happy reunions after such a long time"

  She appreciated his honesty. But she wasn't going to give up. Not yet.

  "Rebecca and I had one after thirty-five years, Nick. That was a long shot too. I'm on Rebecca's side. I have a feeling the kidnapping will end well also. And soon"

  "I agree it's an outcome worth praying for. Good night, Rachel:"

  As Nick strode down the walk toward his car, Rachel eased the door shut, her spirits dipping. While she was deeply grateful she and Rebecca had found each other, perhaps a reunion of mother and baby as well might be too much to hope for.

  Yet she had the oddest feeling that something big was about to break on this case.

  "Debra? Is that you?"

  Heart pounding, Debra clicked Danielle into the safety seat, shut the door, and turned, blocking the view into her car. What in the world was Warren Peterson doing in St. Louis? She'd chosen the city because no one here knew her. To avoid encounters like this one.

  As her ex-husband's co-worker strode across the strip-mall parking lot toward her, Debra tried to curb her escalating panic. She had a story prepared for such an emergency. Stay calm. Act normal. Get rid of him as fast as you can.

  "Hello, Warren'

  "I thought it was you. I didn't know you were in St. Louis:"

  "I moved here a few months ago. After the divorce'

  "Yeah" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized coat. "I was sorry to hear about the split:"

  "It happens" She managed to keep her tone neutral while fighting down the urge to scream, "Go away. Leave me alone!"

  "So how've you been?"

  Small talk. The man wanted to make small talk when all she wanted him to do was disappear. She'd never liked Warren. He was such a nerd. No social skills-or fashion sense. Today he wore gold corduroy pants that were too short, scuffed hiking boots, and a putrid green coat missing a button. But a lot of her ex-husband's fellow academicians were like that. Typical absentminded-professor types. At least Allen had managed to find matching socks each morning.

  "I'm fine, Warren. What are you doing here?"

  "Attending a chemistry conference"

  "Is Allen here?" Her panic surged again.

  "No. I came by myself. I could have driven back tonight, but I thought I'd wander around, take in the sights. After I got lost three times, though, I decided a movie was safer" With a sheepish smile, he gestured toward the cinema across the mall parking lot. "Never did have a sense of direction. Anyway, I'll be heading home in the morning. I've got an easy Friday this semester. Just one class in the afternoon, and I'll be back in plenty of time for that. I'm always up with the chickens, anyway."

  Debra jingled her keys. Of all days to decide to stop for Chinese on the way home. Warren had cornered her once at a faculty Christmas party and talked her arm off until she'd ditched him. He seemed poised to do the same tonight. Too bad he wasn't more like Allen. Her ex-husband's introverted quietness might have bothered some wives, but it had never been a problem for her. She hadn't married him for conversation.

  She turned up the collar of her coat and affected a shiver. "I've got to get in out of the cold:"

  "It is pretty chilly here" He didn't move.

  So much for dropping subtle hints. Turning, Debra opened her door and started to slide behind the wheel.

  "Cute baby."

  She jerked upright again. Warren was smiling at the infant in the backseat, doing the kind of idiotic facial gyrations adults always inflicted on babies. Or perhaps they were an indication of his real personality. Debra aimed a dark frown at him as she fought off the urge to push him away from the car and burn rubber getting away.

  "I'm watching her for a friend. Good-bye, Warren." Congratulating herself on her calm tone despite the churning in her stomach, Debra slid into the driver's seat and shut the door.

  Warren didn't move away until she started the engine, put the car in gear, and began to back out of the parking spot.

  He was still waving, a stupid grin plastered on his face, as she drove off.

  Watching him recede in her rearview mirror, Debra tried not to let fear muddle her brain. She had to think rationally, like she did on the job.

  Don't letpanicconfuseyou. Confusion could lead to mistakes. And mistakes could destroy your dream.

  She repeated that over and over until a cheery gurgle from the backseat drew her attention to the rearview mirror again. Danielle was pumping her fists and bouncing in her car seat. Such a happy little camper. At her antics, Debra's lips relaxed into a smile, and contentment eased the tension in her shoulders. The little cherub was the light of her life. If that light ever went away ...

  Her trembling fingers tightened on the wheel. That wasn't going to happen. She wouldn't let it happen. She was ready to do whatever it took to keep her little girl with her. For always.

  As for Warren ... it had been dark in the parking lot, and the backseat had been shadowed. He coul
dn't have gotten a clear look at Danielle. And even if he had, it wouldn't matter. Her hair had grown, and the brown hue was unremarkable. Not that Warren was likely to notice, anyway. A guy who regularly forgot where he parked, as he'd admitted to her once at a faculty party, wouldn't be inclined to pay attention to details.

  Still, Debra had no doubt he'd mention their meeting to Allen. The man had a chronic case of flapping gums. But Allen would have little interest in details about his ex-wife. He'd made it clear when they split that he wanted no further contact with her.

  The feeling had been mutual.

  There could be other threats down the road, however. Ones more dangerous than Warren. She'd realized that after reading the St. Louis Scene article last week, which hadn't amounted to anything, either. But it had prompted her to action. She'd spent Saturday playing with Danielle-and drawing up a contingency plan. On Sunday, she'd scouted around the rural area within a few-mile radius of her house and found the perfect place to dispose of any ... problem. Earlier this week she'd purchased the necessary equipment.

  She didn't need to implement her plan for Warren. Running into him had been more annoying than menacing.

  But she was ready to deal with anyone who did become a threat.

  "You're in the news again"

  Nick turned from the coffeemaker in the FBI lunch room to find Ellen Levine in the doorway. His stomach clenched as she waved the latest edition of St. Louis Scene at him.

  "What are they up to now?"

  "Top of page three:" She thumbed through, folded back the tabloid, and handed it over. "Hot off the press. I picked it up when I went out for lunch"

  Taking the paper, Nick read the headline.

  LOCAL PSYCHIC HAS LINK TO O'NEIL KIDNAPPING CASE

  The subhead was even more specific.

  Doll found by Rachel Sutton belonged to Megan O'Neil; Kidnapped child's mother meets with Sutton and FBI