by Kylie Brant
“I can think of no other possible way for Four to have traced me to Vietnam.” She paced around the small wooden table with its group of four matching chairs. “There was nothing on my computer about my new IDs. I didn’t even make my own initial travel arrangements.”
“If you’re back to believing that I sold her that information…” Jude began.
“Bishop Enterprises would never sell out a client!” Caro put in indignantly.
“No.” Her reply came so automatically it took Mia aback for an instant. The change had happened in increments, barely noticeable. She turned, met Jude’s somber gaze. She’d moved past believing that he’d sold her ID information. The admission would have unnerved her even days earlier. “Before there seemed no other explanation for how Four could have gotten the information. I think we have a reasonable one now. The question is if my conclusion is valid, where does that leave us?”
He stood. Folded his arms across his chest. “Security-wise, it changes nothing. We keep the woman as far away from you as possible. You need to stay out of sight, because if Four knows you’re back in DC, then so does he. And there’s nothing to stop him from coming here to take over himself.”
If he’d meant to frighten her, his words had the desired effect. Tiny tendrils of fear furled through her system. It took effort to battle back the paralysis that fear could bring. The kind that leached rational thought and elicited horrifying images from the past.
“He sent her here three years ago, rather than coming himself.” At least, Mia thought as she angled past the counter to stride toward the door, it had been the other woman that had enacted the pretense with her landlady and the key. “The longest period of time he was ever gone was maybe a week. That happened several times. But usually it was far less. Too often he was there regularly.” With no clocks or windows in captivity it had been impossible to guess whether it was night or day, which made it difficult to estimate his schedule.
But it was enough for her to guess he wouldn’t leave the women for the length of time it would take to search for her. He’d wait until Four reported she had Mia, or had tracked her exact location before coming himself. Reaching the door she turned to stride in the opposite direction. It shamed her to admit how much that conclusion relieved her.
“I was in Nashville before I finally sought help from someone. I had no idea which direction I’d traveled. The two trucks I’d hidden in may even have gone in different directions.” It had been made only too clear that her convoluted route had muddied the investigative waters immensely. “But I know the climate where we were kept had cold weather. It was heated a lot of the time, which suggests long winters.”
“That eliminates only a handful of states.”
Jude’s words stung, although they were uttered dispassionately enough.
“Still.” Stubbornly she clung to the point she was making. “Two long days traveling by truck. Likely I was moving south or east. Even if there was some backtracking by the second semi, that suggests I still ended up far from wherever I’d been kept. Wyoming—where they found the body—would fit that descriptor. Further west would not. Even if that mineshaft was a dumpsite, it at least narrows the possible map of where he kept the women. And how far would he have traveled with a dead body in his vehicle? Linking the body to The Collector gives Raiker’s team a clue about where to find the others. A clue the first investigation didn’t have.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Jude rose. Propped a hip on the desk and folded his arms across his chest. “I came over to tell you that Raiker texted me earlier. He has a possible line on the ID of the remains found in Wyoming.”
She stopped in her tracks, one hand rising unconsciously to her throat. “He has…a name?”
“Several actually.” His tee shirt was green today, a shade darker than his eyes. “He got calls from four different law enforcement agencies so far. Now it’s a matter of the families submitting DNA to see if there’s a match. His lab will facilitate that, which will speed up the process.”
Mia searched his expression. Saw nothing there to forestall her next question. “Were any of them from the area around Mackinac Island?”
“No.” Her stomach plummeted. “But one was from Detroit. Same state.”
She reached out a hand, suddenly unsteady. Clasped the edge of the nearby dining table. “Did he give you a name?”
“He won’t until the ID is made. But from what he did tell me the investigation gets dicier once the victim is identified. The mining company who owned that abandoned shaft acquired his services. Bad PR for the corporation.” The thread of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable. “Especially when they’re looking to expand drilling in the state. The scope of Raiker’s involvement will be completed when a victim ID is complete. Generous mining CEO pays to reunite a grieving family with their long-lost daughter’s remains.”
She stared at him, easily reading between the lines. “But if Raiker suspects a link to my case it can’t end there.”
“The connection has to be pretty clear. And then it will be a matter of which law enforcement agencies will get involved and how well they work together.”
Whichever one it is, Mia realized, there was no guarantee they’d hire Raiker. And even if she convinced the man to work for her, they still needed an approximate area in which to focus the search.
“I’m just telling you this so you’ll realize it’s all going to take time, Mia.” She could feel his steady regard on her even before shifting her gaze toward him. He dropped his arms. “Raiker’s involvement tends to speed things up because of the resources he brings to bear, but from here out things are going to grind along. I know you’re impatient but that impatience can’t get in the way of your security.”
“You’re telling me I have to settle in for the long haul?” she asked bleakly.
“I gave the DC police the name Four used on her passport and a picture. With the video surveillance from your apartment, they have cause to pick her up. But I don’t kid myself that she’ll be a high priority, especially since I didn’t give them any information about what happened in Vietnam. Right now we have to start thinking about what your long-term security needs are and where you want to spend your time.”
At her arched brow, he lifted a shoulder. “Nothing says you have to stay in DC. Or that you can’t resume some online classes from MIT, using one of our secure computers. But you have to settle on a routine for yourself, or the waiting is going to drive you crazy.”
If he only knew how close to that stage she already was. But Mia forced herself to nod. “I’ll think about it.” When his gaze sharpened at her easy agreement, she tried not to look away. It wouldn’t do to underestimate his perceptiveness.
After all, he’d already realized how difficult it was for her to wait around for answers that might take weeks or months to come.
It wouldn’t do to let him guess that she was already planning to accelerate that process.
* * * *
Caro looked at a price tag in the high-end boutique and then dropped it as if burned. “Wow. I guess the rich really are different.”
Mia pretended to be engrossed in the racks of handmade jeans. “Everything in my wardrobe is dated. Eight, almost nine years is a lifetime in the fashion world.” At nineteen the words would have perfectly personified her shallowness. Now it took supreme acting ability to feign an interest in clothes. But Caro had swallowed it and apparently so had Jude when the security specialist had relayed her concern to him about Mia’s increasing disquiet. The barrage of requests she’d made had been carefully selected. Dinner at a favorite restaurant. A night out at a local dance club. Shopping at a recently opened mall.
Jude had nixed all of her appeals, just as she’d known he would. And he’d offered a compromise that suited her needs exactly. Shopping at one specific boutique of her choice that had first undergone a security clearance, followed by an hour in a public park, with Caro armed and at her side the entire time.
<
br /> It was perfect.
Mia had engaged in a lengthy decision-making process with Caro, fretting and complaining about the difficulty of choosing only one store. The woman had been adamant that they follow Jude’s orders exactly and with a show of petulance Mia had finally acquiesced.
It was a bit disconcerting to realize how closely her act had paralleled her teenage behavior. Her willfulness might have grown out of a pathetic textbook attempt at summoning her father’s attention. But she’d topped it off with a casual sense of entitlement that had been a direct result of being allowed to do exactly as she pleased for much of her life. She liked to think that she would have changed; that it hadn’t required three years at the mercy of a sexual sadist to acquire a hint of self-awareness.
“May I help you with those?”
“Yes, please.”
She handed her selections to the clerk who smiled. “I’ll start dressing room three for you.”
Caro accompanied them to the corridor lined with four dressing rooms and startled the clerk by examining the area closely before indicating for Mia to proceed.
Once she entered the dressing room she wasted no time in swinging the door nearly shut and dropping to her knees next to it to examine the lock. The exclusive shop—which had been one of her favorites long ago—had updated their décor but the changing room doors remained the same. A simple push button lock on the inside of the room was deemed sufficient for privacy.
Mia pressed the button on the doorknob to lock it, then dug in her wallet for the stray staples she’d collected from the bottom of the drawer in the computer desk back at the apartment. Shoving the small bits of metal into the lock on the outside handle took a bit of fine motor maneuvering. But eventually she had four wedged inside and was unable to get the lock disengaged when she depressed the button.
Carefully she took an envelope out of her wallet and set it beneath her purse before rising. Mia stuck her head out the door. “Caro?” The woman pushed away from the wall she was leaning against. “Can you help me for a minute?”
At the other woman’s instant alertness, Mia had a moment’s misgiving. If this failed she wasn’t going to get a second chance of perhaps slipping away in the park later. Caro would insist on taking her right back to the apartment.
“I guess I’m out of practice.” The abashed tone wasn’t totally feigned. She already had misgivings regarding what she was about to attempt. “Could you come in and pick out the ones I should try on first? The choices…”
The instant look of understanding on the other woman’s face was a kick in the conscience. “Sure.” She slipped into the dressing room and Mia picked up her purse and positioned herself behind the other woman, the door still open. “Let’s see.” Caro took a couple hangers from the hook on the wall and held them up critically, before starting to turn.
Mia was already out the door, quickly slamming it shut. “Mia!” The rattle of the knob sounded behind her, followed by a banging. “Mia! Don’t do something you’ll regret!”
Sailing by the puzzled clerk, she hurried from the shop, hoping with all her being that Caro’s words wouldn’t prove prophetic.
* * * *
There had been no money in the purse Caro had fetched from Mia’s apartment, but there had been in the backpack she’d carried from Vietnam. She’d emptied it and much of the rest of its contents into her purse before going shopping.
The taxi driver she hailed was more than happy to take her to the bank and wait for her return before continuing on to Dulles where she’d rent a car. The long trip to the airport through the tangled DC traffic gave Mia ample opportunity to think. Plenty of time to send nerves scampering up her spine.
She turned in her seat, a vain attempt to search the line of traffic behind them for a tail. Then faced forward again, feeling immediately foolish. There had never been a time when she’d felt completely safe overseas, but in the States the paranoia was always worse.
Or perhaps what she was about to do was the cause.
To distract herself she mentally walked through the steps she’d rehearsed for the last couple days. One of her IDs, Isabella Ahlman had her as a resident of Arizona which meant her false driver’s license from there was good for several more years. It—and a credit card in that name would help her rent a car. But every other purchase would be made under her own name. She didn’t want to make it too difficult to follow her trail.
Mia looked out the window unseeingly. It was supremely clear to her that the quickest way to locate The Collector was through Four. She was betting everything on the woman finding her. And when she did, Mia would get the answers she needed, or die trying.
In the end, it really hadn’t even seemed much of a choice.
* * * *
“I let my guard down.” Shamed frustration radiated off Caro in waves. She sat in Jude’s office, Kacee at her side. “I kept my eyes peeled for the outside threat. It never occurred to me that she’d pull something like that. I mean, why would she? Days after the break in at her apartment. Does she have a death wish or something?”
“Apparently.”
It was all Jude said but Kacee’s quick glance at him was telling. After a few more moments of self-recriminations, she ushered Caro out of the office, murmuring to the woman placatingly.
Jude balled his fists and fought a temper he usually had tightly leashed. It took every ounce of strength he had not to heave something at the window. Because with the least bit of foresight this had all been preventable.
Kacee came back inside the office and shut the door behind her. Leaned on it. The diminutive redhead fixed him with a shrewd brown gaze. “This isn’t all Caro’s fault, you know.”
“No.” With conscious effort he uncurled his fists and strode to the decanters lining the carved table. “It’s mine.” He poured a finger of scotch into a glass, then, after a brief hesitation, added another one.
“Actually, I was thinking that the blame should land on Deleon’s shoulders. She isn’t exactly a model of predictability.” Kacee pushed away from the door and came into the room, concern etched on her face. “Since when do you drink at this time of day?”
“Since I let myself get played like a violin.” He took a gulp from his glass. Relished the burn down his throat. “I was getting to know her. I sure as hell should have seen this coming. She all but painted me a neon sign.” The knowledge lodged fangs in his chest. Sank deep. “The restlessness, yeah that was real enough. So when she laid on the other, the wanting to get out of the apartment, I tried to pacify her with an outing when I should have seen it was nothing but a diversion. A smoke screen.”
Kacee plopped down on his leather couch with a decided lack of grace. “The only thing you should have seen was that Deleon is a whack job. She was five years ago and obviously that hasn’t changed.”
“She’s not crazy.” He drank again, brooding over the amber liquid in the glass. “Damaged, yes. But she knew exactly what she was doing.” Caro didn’t get a pass on this. Personal protection duty was just as much about guarding the client from stupid choices they made as from physical threats. There were always the ones who wanted to hook up on the side, or slip in an unobserved business deal.
But he wasn’t used to a client who was intent on using herself as bait.
“I still say good riddance.” Denim-clad legs stretched out in front of her, Kacee clasped her hands over her stomach. “Caro said Deleon left an envelope with your name on it. Please tell me it was a check for services rendered.”
The memory of the contents of that envelope wasn’t guaranteed to settle Jude’s temper. He took another pull from the glass and crossed to the woman and sank down next to her. Letting his head rest against the couch for a moment, he brought the cool glass to his forehead as if to cool the temper that still simmered.
“If you’re not going to drink that, give it to me.”
Faintly amused, he handed her the glass. “You don’t drink scotch.”
She took a deep swa
llow. Grimaced and shuddered. “And now I know why.”
He took the glass back from her. Considered its contents unseeingly. “You remember Kuykendall? In Marja?” He and Kacee had met in the Marines. The woman had been part of a special female engagement team in the Helmand province whose role it had been to forge a bond with rural Afghan women. Cultural dictates prohibited the female natives from talking to male outsiders. The female team had no such obstacles. Their mission had been for both humanitarian reasons and intelligence gathering rather than actual combat. But the female Marines had unavoidably been caught up in daily firefights on foot patrol, causing a jittery Pentagon to pull them off their assignment weeks short of their ten-month deployment.
Her voice was flat. “I remember Ky. I recall trying to talk him out of volunteering for every damn suicide mission that came up.” They were both silent for a moment. Because there had finally been a mission their friend hadn’t returned from.
Jude brought the glass to his lips. “Mia’s like that.” He felt her look at him sharply. “I knew Ky before you did. Before he lost most of his battalion to an ambush. Something like that…it changes a person.”
“So she does have a death wish.”
“Not exactly.” He took another sip and thought bleakly that times like this made him feel too damn old for his years. “People like them just don’t feel like they have anything left to lose.”
Jude sat there long after Kacee had left. Long after his glass was empty. He had a new client presentation to prepare for. Active op reports to go over. Specifications for a new anti-malware to run tests on. But instead of tending to any of them he stared at the letter he’d pulled from his pocket. It had been in the envelope along with a check, the addition of which would make Kacee happy. But there was nothing in the words written on the paper in surprisingly feminine handwriting to soothe the tension that was growing inside him.
