by Irene Hannon
A muscle in Nick's jaw twitched, and he swallowed past a sudden surge of fear. Sleepy wasn't good. It could mean Rachel was slipping. But he didn't intend to share that with Rebecca. She was stressed enough. "I think we're all tired, Rebecca. I'm planning on twelve uninterrupted hours of sleep myself once this is over. I'll see you in a little while:"
As the line went dead, Nick stared out the window into the dark countryside. He'd glossed over Rebecca's questions about Rachel, but she'd homed in on the same ones that had been plaguing him for the past couple of hours.
He knew how to conduct an effective interrogation of a normal subject. But from all indications, Debra didn't fall into that category. Not even close. And he had no idea how to persuade a woman tottering on the edge of sanity to cooperate.
But he knew someone who might.
He shifted in the seat toward Mark. "Our suspect sounds like a loose cannon. I don't have the expertise to get the kind of information we need from her quickly if she balks. Do you?"
"No"
"Do you think Emily might be willing to offer some suggestions if we run into a brick wall?"
"She's already standing by for a possible phone consultation. I called her before we left the New Melle police station"
He should have known Mark would be one step ahead of him on this. Mark lived with Emily. Saw firsthand how she dealt with troubled people every day. Knew tonight's situation was desperate. "Thanks"
As they sped through the night, Nick hoped they wouldn't need Emily's expertise. Hoped Debra would cooperate and, without much prodding, tell them where she'd left Rachel.
But he had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy.
Or fast.
And at this point, every minute mattered.
By eleven o'clock, everyone was in place.
From his crouched position behind a bushy yew at the back corner of Debra's dark house, Nick could see the New Melle fire chief working in the shadow of the small woodshed. Mark was stationed behind a matching yew at the opposite corner of the frame structure. A half dozen other agents had been spaced around the house. Everyone was linked with earpieces to Steve, who was situated beside a small toolshed with a good view of the back of the house and woodpile.
As Nick watched, his earpiece crackled to life.
"I'm set" The fire chief's voice.
"Okay. Proceed, Steve replied.
Five seconds passed. Mark pulled out his Glock. The fire chief scooted for cover. Five seconds later, a small but noisy explosion behind the wood shed sent flames licking up the sides.
A light in the room above Nick's hiding place flicked on. One of the bedrooms, according to the police chief's sketch. A shade was cracked, and Nick melted back into the shadows.
As Steve kept the rest of the team apprised of Debra's movements, the porch light came on. Nick crouched lower behind the bush. He heard her slide the latch on the back door, but he couldn't see her movements and relied on Steve's play-by-play narrative.
"She's at the back door. She's got a coat thrown over the sweat suit she's wearing. She doesn't appear to be armed ... She's on the back porch ... Looking at the fire ... Coming down the steps ... Heading to the wood pile to investigate ... Wait for my signal ... Now!"
Moving with quiet stealth, Nick and Mark closed in on her from behind as Steve stepped out of the shed, his gun pointed at her chest.
"FBI. Raise your arms straight out from your sides, palms back"
At the command, Debra jerked as if she'd been struck. She whirled around. Spotted Nick and Mark. Her gaze darted beyond them, where other agents were emerging from the shadows. It was too dark to see much, but Nick detected the wild look in her eyes before she turned back to Steve.
"Raise your arms straight out from your sides, palms back, Steve repeated.
After a brief hesitation, she followed his instructions.
"Now slowly move both hands behind your back"
As she started to comply, Nick closed in, cuffs ready. But all at once she whipped around and swung her arm. He saw it coming as the coat slipped off her shoulders and fell to the ground, but didn't have a chance to react before she clipped him with her fist above his right eye. His head snapped back. Grunting, he staggered from the power of the unexpected blow.
By the time he regained his footing, Mark had Debra prone on the ground, her hands cuffed behind her back.
"You okay?" Mark shot him a glance.
"Yeah" Not quite true. He could feel his eyelid swelling already.
Holstering his gun, he glared at the frenzy-eyed woman. She couldn't be more than five-four or five-five, and she'd almost decked him. He'd never live this down.
One more reason to dislike her.
But there were plenty of others.
And Rachel's abduction was top of the list.
The sudden, muffled cry of a baby came through the halfopen back door, and Debra reacted at once. Though her hands were cuffed behind her, she thrashed on the ground and tried to stand. It took two agents to restrain her.
"My baby needs me!" Debra's plea came out in a keening wail that echoed through the night.
"She's not your baby, Debra" Steve said the words in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
"Yes, she is." Debra's chest was heaving. "I'm her mother. I have her birth certificate. It's in the house. In Danielle's room"
The squad supervisor flicked a look at Nick and Mark.
"She's a paralegal, Nick reminded him. "She'd know how to fake legal documents"
Steve motioned Mark and Nick toward the house and addressed the two agents restraining Debra. "Wait here while we retrieve the baby."
As they jogged across the lawn, Steve spoke. "Clair is on her way. She can't wait to get her hands on the car. The O'Neil couple should be at the police station in ten minutes, and a doctor's on-site as well to evaluate the baby. I'll head there with Megan. Another K-9 team is on the way out. You want to talk to Ms. Kraus here about Rachel Sutton's disappearance?"
"Yes. I'd prefer not to waste time on transport, Nick said.
"Agreed"
Pulling on latex gloves, the three men pushed through the back door and followed the sound of the cries to the nursery. Nick flicked on the light.
Froze.
It was every baby's fantasy room. Painted pale pink, the walls were topped with a colorful nursery-rhyme border. A mobile of garden fairies was suspended over the white crib, and framed pictures of Debra with the baby were arrayed around the room. A lamp base in the form of a Cinderella statue was topped with a swagged shade, and a toy box in one corner was overflowing. Gauzy curtains patterned like butterfly wings hung at the windows.
"Wow" Mark summed up the reaction as the three men crowded into the small room.
But they didn't have a chance to focus on the decor. At the appearance of the three large strangers, the baby gripped the edge of the crib where she stood and let out an ear-piercing wail.
Dressed in a warm fleece sleeper with feet, she stared at them with large blue eyes as tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She didn't look much like the smiling cherub with a rosebud mouth Nick had seen in the file photos in Chicago, perhaps because the hair was a huge disconnect. Megan O'Neil had striking coppercolored hair. This child's was a dingy brown.
"Who wants to check for the birthmark?" he asked.
They studied the howling baby. When neither of the other two men volunteered, he moved forward.
"Okay, we need to get this done" Slowly he reached out a hand to stroke the baby's hair. "Hey, it's okay," he crooned. "We're not going to hurt you" As he talked he eased the zipper down the front of the sleeper. "Mark, check it out while I talk to this little lady, okay?"
He felt Mark move beside him as he continued to murmur to the baby. Heard the sound of the diaper tape being pulled off.
"That daycare worker was right. The birthmark's where it's supposed to be" Mark refastened the diaper and stood.
"I checked out the bathroom," Steve told them. "There's hair dy
e on the counter. Brown"
"Somebody find a coat for the baby. And an extra blanket" Nick lifted her from the crib and bounced her gently in his arms. "And hurry before I lose my hearing" He raised his voice to be audible above the baby's cries.
A few minutes later, as he watched the squad supervisor disappear out the front door with the bundled baby, Nick thought of the joyous reunion about to take place.
It was a happy day for the O'Neil family.
But they were only halfway home, and he didn't plan to settle for less than two reunions tonight. His jaw hardened.
Debra would tell them where Rachel was.
Whatever it took.
"All right, Ms. Kraus. Let's talk about Rachel Sutton:" He'd read Debra her rights, and now Nick moved in close, his face inches from hers as they stood behind the house. The other two agents backed off a few steps. Mark took a position on the other side of Debra, arms folded across his chest. The fire chief was extinguishing the embers of the blaze in the woodshed.
"I want my baby."
"We're talking about Rachel Sutton"
"I don't know her'
Nick jangled the cars keys he'd grabbed off the kitchen counter. "No? We're about to find out:"
Clair moved out of the shadows and he tossed them her way. She took off at a trot for the garage, and a few seconds later they heard the door slide up.
Pinning Debra with a grim look, Nick stripped off his latex gloves and stuffed them in the pocket of his coat. "Where did you take Rachel, Debra?"
"I don't know a Rachel. I want my baby' She looked everywhere but at him, her gaze darting frantically around the shadowy backyard.
"Debra"
No response.
"Debra, look at me" Nick leaned close to her face, his breath a frosty cloud against her skin. Her gaze skittered toward him, not quite focused, but he decided it was the best he was going to get. "Did you kill Rachel?" The harsh words tasted bitter in his mouth.
She blinked, and shock rippled across her face. "No!" Her tone was adamant. "I would never kill anybody."
"Then where is she?"
"I don't know"
Clair approached, stopping a few feet away.
Frustrated, Nick turned to the technician. "What have you got?"
"I found these wedged into a corner of the trunk, under the mat" Still wearing her latex gloves, she held up a pair of glasses. One ear piece was bent at an awkward angle.
Nick recognized the copper hue of the metallic frames. He swallowed. "Those are Rachel's:"
"There are some specks of blood in the trunk too. My guess is it will match the blood on the tarp"
'Anything else?" The question was directed at Clair, but Nick's attention had returned to Debra.
"Nothing obvious. We'll give it a thorough workup once we have a warrant:"
"Thanks." He folded his arms across his chest and waited until Clair reentered the garage.
"Rachel Sutton was in your trunk, Debra" His words were slow. Deliberate. Deadly.
Panic flitted through her eyes. "I want a lawyer."
"You can make that call after we take you in. But a lawyer can't change the fact that Rachel's blood is in your trunk. We found the things you threw in the well too"
She jerked as if she'd been struck. "You couldn't have .." She clamped her lips shut and twisted away from him. "It's cold out here. I want to go inside." She shivered inside the coat someone had re-draped over her shoulders.
Anger bubbled up in Nick, like a pot about to boil over. He reached over and yanked her coat off, tossing it to Mark.
"Hey! What are you doing? It's freezing out here!" She glowered at him.
"Rachel doesn't have a coat, either, Debra" Nick ground the words out through clenched teeth. "And she's been out in this weather a lot longer than you have. How cold do you think she is?"
A shiver rippled through the woman beside him. Nick didn't feel one iota of sympathy.
"I don't know Rachel. I don't have to talk to you. I want a lawyer. And I want my coat:'
Nick directed his next comment to Mark. "Can you get Emily on the line?"
Motioning to the other agents to take their places, Mark pulled his BlackBerry off his belt. As he moved toward the garage, he called out to the technician working inside. "Can we borrow your van for a minute, Clair?"
"Sure:" She waved at him without looking up from the trunk of Debra's car.
They climbed into the front seat and were closing the doors as Emily answered. Mark put her on speaker and set the BlackBerry on the dash.
"Em, Nick's with me. We need your help. Debra had the O'Neil baby, and we found Rachel's glasses in her trunk, but she won't tell us where she left her:"
"We're hoping you can suggest an approach that might get her to open up; Nick added. "If Rachel's out in this cold, she's not going to be able to ..." His voice hoarsened and he stopped.
I understand, Nick. And I'm glad to help. But without talking to Debra, I can't really make any kind of formal assessment. This is all going to be gut feel:'
"This is off the record, Em," Mark assured her. `And we'll take whatever you can offer. We don't have time for any kind of of ficial psych workup' He gave her the rundown on their brief interrogation session.
"Okay. Here's my take, factoring in what Mark told me about her when he called earlier. It sounds as if this woman has convinced herself the O'Neil baby is hers. That's your bargaining chip, guys. You have to promise her whatever will get you the information you need. If that means you tell her she'll get her baby back, that's what you need to do. Nothing else may work in the short term"
Nick frowned. "I'm not in the habit of lying, Emily. Even to suspects"
"Do you want to see Rachel alive again?" Emily countered.
Her blunt comeback helped him put things in perspectiveand sowed the seed of a plan. "I agree we need to take some kind of drastic action. And you've given me an idea, Emily. Thanks"
As Mark slid his BlackBerry onto his belt, Nick took a deep breath. "Okay. Here's what I think we should do"
Cuddling Megan on her lap, Rebecca lifted a trembling finger and touched the familiar faint sprinkling of freckles on the bridge of her daughter's nose. Traced the graceful curve of her perfectly shaped ear. Drank in the sight of the sweeping lashes that rested against her downy cheek. Smiled at the tiny rosebud mouth suckling in sleep.
Her baby was home.
At last.
The solid little body in her arms had done more than anything else to chase away the chill that had plagued her for hours.
"Mr. and Mrs. O'Neil?" After a discreet knock, Steve Preston stuck his head in the tiny office where she and Colin had been reunited with their daughter and left in privacy to savor the moment.
"Come in, Agent Preston" Colin remained seated in the chair beside her, one arm around her shoulders, the other hand resting on the soft, comforting warmth of their baby.
"Is there any news about Rachel?" Rebecca forced herself to look up from Megan.
"No. Nick and Mark have tried to question Debra Kraus, but she's not talking. And the situation is getting desperate. If your sister is still alive, Mrs. O'Neil, she won't be in another couple of hours. The temperature's supposed to plummet after midnight, and we're only half an hour away from that:"
"I know she's alive, Agent Preston. I still feel cold:"
"Is there anything we can do to help find her?" Colin asked.
The man settled one hip on the desk in the small office and faced them. "We have a plan that may persuade Debra to talk. But we'll need your cooperation"
"We'll do whatever we can, Rebecca assured him.
"Maybe you better wait until you hear our idea before you say that, he cautioned.
As the squad supervisor laid out the proposal, Rebecca understood his warning. It would take every ounce of her courage to go along with the FBI's plan.
When Steve finished, he rose. "I understand that this is a difficult decision. I'll wait outside while you two discus
s it"
The door closed behind him, and Rebecca looked at Colin. His eyes reflected the conflict in her heart.
They both wanted to save Rachel.
But could they put the daughter that had just been restored to them at risk to do so?
The violent shivering had stopped again.
Rachel was aware of that change in her body on some pe ripheral level of consciousness as she lay on the dirt floor, curled into a ball. The shakes had been coming in waves for a while now. The pattern had shifted soon after her hands had grown useless and her legs had given way. She was no longer able to do anything except lay on the ground.
And pray during the lucid moments that were becoming less and less frequent.
At least she didn't feel the cold anymore. In fact, she didn't feel much of anything. Including fear.
She groped for the chain around her neck. Her fingers could no longer feel the thin links or the cross they supported, but she knew she'd snagged it when she pulled and felt pressure on the back of her neck. She willed her fingers to close around the cross, hoping she'd succeeded, recalling Nick's suggestion not long ago to hold on to it if she ever felt alone.
God would hear her whether she succeeded in grasping it or not, though. Nick had told her that. And she trusted him. He wouldn't lie to her. If he thought God listened, Rachel was certain he did. She'd expected to have the chance to discover for herself the truths that had laid the foundation for Nick's confidence in the Lord, but it seemed God didn't intend to grant her that time. She hoped he would accept her second-hand pledge of faith. It was the best she could offer at this early stage of her spiritual journey.
As her awareness began to seep away, Rachel managed one last, brief prayer.
Be with me, Lord. Forgive the wrongs I've inflicted on others. Please restore Megan to Rebecca. Bless Nick. And please let him know in some way how much he meant to me.
"The O'Neils are on board with the plan"
At Steve's news, Nick closed his eyes. Thank God.
Shifting the BlackBerry on his ear, he waited until Mark looked toward the passenger seat and gave a thumbs-up.
"What's your ETA?" Steve asked.
