Reunion

by LAURA HARNER

  Grant shook his head. “I don’t see how. About six months ago…an attorney contacted me to tell me Michelle had passed away and named me as guardian of her child. I didn’t even know she had a kid. We dated years ago but nothing came of it and we sort of drifted apart—so it was a huge shock. It was an even bigger shock when I met with the lawyer and found out Annie was actually my biological child. But when I saw her…” The smile felt good. “She looks just like me when I was a kid—I mean if I was a girl.”

  “Okay, is there any family who might be contesting? Did Michelle have any other relatives?”

  With another quick shake of his head, Grant answered quickly. “No. It was one of the things that drew us together in the first place. I met her at the school where I work—she was a substitute teacher there for a couple of weeks. The holidays were coming and neither of us had family. Like I said, we drifted together, had a brief thing, then drifted apart. We were together about six months. I never heard from her, and I had no idea she was pregnant.”

  “What about students? Anyone with a grudge?”

  Grant gripped his head between his hands, wanting to shut out the other man’s words. “A student couldn’t…wouldn’t do something like this.” He whispered his words, shaking his head. This whole situation was impossible.

  “Is there any reason to believe you’d have access to fifty-thousand dollars?”

  “No! For God’s sake, I’m a teacher. I barely swung the down payment on this place when I found out about Annie.”

  “I said I would cover the ransom, Grant,” RJ reminded him. “It’s too late to call the bank tonight, but with the time difference, I can call early tomorrow. I just wish we knew—”

  The ringing phone was like an icy shot through the room. Grant jumped and started to reach for the phone, but Graeme got there first, and he covered the device with his hand. “You have to trust me. You listen, you write or mouth anything you think I need to know.”

  Graeme snapped the phone up and answered. “Who is this?” There was a long silence, and Grant clutched at Patti and RJ as if they were his only lifelines. There was just enough volume on the call for some of the words to spill over to be heard by everyone in the room. The voice sounded funny, not quite real.

  “I am Mr. Anderson’s representative in this matter. Let me speak to Annie.”

  Fighting a desperate need to grab the phone and demand this asshole return his daughter, Grant balled his hands into fists and took a jerky half step before RJ captured him from behind. His friend wrapped him in strong arms, his broad chest a comforting press against Grant’s back.

  With a grimace, Graeme turned his back on the commotion and moved further across the room.

  “Yes, I have the money. We want the exchange tonight. No. No. That is not acceptable. You get nothing from us without proof of life.”

  A thin, reedy cry spilled from the phone and Grant started shaking violently. RJ held him tight from behind, while Patti moved to stand directly in front of him, her steady gaze boring into his. The two of them keeping him sane…barely.

  “Jesus…I don’t have the money. Not tonight. What if—”

  Graeme glared over at him and continued to growl into the phone.

  “Please, Patti…she’s gonna be so scared. I need to talk—”

  “Honey, they aren’t going to let you talk with her. Right now you have to let Graeme do his job. Enwright can front the money if they agree to the exchange tonight. That’s what Graeme is trying to work them into—a quick exchange.”

  “Fuck!” Graeme dropped the phone from his ear, then spoke into his headset. “Did you get that, Michael? Yeah, I agree. Not long enough for a trace, and there was some type of a sound diffuser on the phone. Okay, you work it from your end, I need to speak with the father.”

  Graeme walked up to him, his lips a thin, tight line. “They want to do the exchange at twelve tomorrow. Like some kind of fucking cowboys at high noon. They gave no reason for the delay—then again, the note never said exactly when they’d call either. These are fucking amateurs. I don’t like it, but there isn’t shit we can do about it. We’ll use the time to try to get a lead on them. Now I need the mother’s full name and any details you might have, plus the names of any students, fellow teachers, or crotchety neighbors who might have a grudge. We’ll go from there.”

  Chapter Four

  Moving around from behind Grant, RJ stayed close, so that their shoulders still brushed, and looked up a couple of inches to meet Graeme’s frustrated glare. Not that it was their fault the kidnappers were amateurs, but it was easy to see how the uncertainty made everything less stable.

  “I don’t know if I can get the money here by noon. It’s in a money market account. I’ll probably have to take a signature loan or maybe I can use it as collateral—”

  “No worries, there. Michael keeps cash on hand for kidnapping cases. If we have to pay, you or Grant will reimburse him. He’ll work out the terms, and I promise it’ll be fair.”

  “Wow. Obviously, I’ve heard a lot about Enwright Security, but I didn’t realize just how broad the range of services, I guess. Do you work a lot of kidnapping cases?”

  Graeme’s mouth tightened into a grim line before he answered. “Enough. Not one of Phoenix’s finer statistics.” Narrowing his eyes, Graeme raked his gaze over RJ, no doubt noticing his muscular build and doing a little mental calculation about RJ’s ability to carry off a small child. Looking back up, Graeme waited a long beat before speaking.

  “Most people never hear of us unless they need us. How did you run across the name?” Crossing his arms over his chest, Graeme waited, clearly expecting an answer. Fair enough, this was a child kidnapping and there had been no explanation for RJ’s presence here, other than a friend of a friend. In any child disappearance, the first place law enforcement looked was those closet to the child, to family and friends.

  RJ had finally managed to kick his sluggish brain into gear and figured out who Graeme Kennedy was—the vice president of security for Enwright. This was the man who headed all their private investigations, police liaison work, and security details. He was indeed a big dog.

  “I work R&D for Marker Solutions—you know, like the earwig piece and mic set you’re talking into? Or…worked. I’m uh…okay, this is weird. I’m scheduled for an interview at Enwright on Monday. So, yeah, I’m familiar with your company, and now some of the pieces fit together and I realize who you are.”

  There was an audible gasp. “You’re moving back to the valley?”

  There a quality to Grant’s voice that RJ couldn’t identify.

  “Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe. I have a couple of interviews lined up. We’ll see.”

  “That’s great. Why didn’t you tell me?” Patti asked, stepping around Graeme to give him a hard, quick hug. Just as every other time she’d touched him tonight, the contact set his pulse into a staccato rhythm. Between Patti in front and Grant leaning against his side, the temptation to lean into the touch was nearly overwhelming. Clamping down hard on his wayward emotions, RJ stepped back and clenched his fists, digging his nails into his own hands. This was neither the time nor the place to consider his physical reactions to his two old friends.

  “It’s not certain, yet. I don’t have a job, just some interviews. Plus, we didn’t exactly have time.”

  Feeling the need to turn the focus away from himself, RJ looked over to Graeme. “You’re going to have to call the police, aren’t you? I mean…Enwright Security is a big deal. You can’t really afford to circumvent the system.”

  Grant was in his feet in an instant, his face ashen, arms reaching toward Graeme. “Noooo! They said they’d kill her.”

  Patti stepped closer to Grant, pulling him into her arms, saying all the right words. Suddenly self-conscious, RJ kept a small distance between them and awkwardly patted Grant’s shoulder.

  Across the room Graeme spread some papers across the dining room table. The security expert’s shoulders were stiff, as i
f he hadn’t wanted to reveal the law enforcement connection just yet. But that was stupid. Patti had known, and RJ figured it out—it didn’t seem quite fair to leave Grant the only one in the dark about the legal requirements. Still—why the fuck hadn’t he let Graeme explain in his own time, rather than blurt it out himself?

  “Hey, RJ,” Grant whispered next to his ear.

  Turning back put the three of them nose-to-nose and too close for his comfort. His breath caught in his throat, the temptation to lean in closer nearly overwhelming. Still, RJ didn’t pull away. This was about supporting their friend—if he wanted touch to keep him grounded, then that’s what he’d get. He could only imagine—and not very well—how devastated Grant must feel right now.

  Patti pulled back from the embrace, allowing RJ to do the same before his eyes became permanently crossed. “I-I’m sorry, Grant. I want to help, not fuck things up. Tell me what I can do.”

  “I don’t know—I don’t know what to do…” Grant’s voice shook, and his lips trembled slightly.

  “You leave things to me, Grant. This is my job, and I’m damn good at it. We are dragging our feet on notifying the officials. We won’t hold out reporting beyond morning, though. We’ll approach it from the top down—start with Michael’s connection with the feds. Pisses the locals off, but it also reduces the number of cops standing around waiting for something to happen. We also intend to pay if we have to, which is going to make them all fucking mad—but you’re the client, and Michael and I will do whatever it takes to bring your little girl home.”

  Chapter Five

  Observing the men gave Patti an idea. “Graeme, is Michael running a background on the mother?”

  “As we speak.”

  “Good, then let’s focus on what we can do from here. Why don’t I take an extended walk outside while you gather a list of Grant’s students? This has got to be someone he knows or who knows of him. There is no way it’s random. It’s been way too long since the three of us have been together so I don’t think I have any relevant news to offer, but I do have my law enforcement experience.”

  While she spoke with Graeme, RJ and Grant moved to the couch and sat huddled together. Part of her wanted nothing more than to join them, but the only real comfort Grant would find was in the return of his daughter. Pushing aside the twinge of pain at the thought of his small family, and her desire for something like that for herself, Patti rubbed her hands together. She needed action. “I’m going to bring my suitcase inside so I can change clothes—”

  Graeme nodded. “This is actually going rather quickly—most of the cases I’ve been involved with—let’s just say they don’t call this soon. Or at all.” Graeme rubbed at his face and blew out a breath.

  “Something about this is tweaking at me. Like there’s two different minds, two different intentions behind the snatch.” Graeme shook his head, as if bringing himself back. “It would be completely stupid for the kidnappers to show back up in this neighborhood—but something about the last two lines of that note… You have a weapon?”

  “Always.” Patti removed her SIG pocket 9mm from her bag. “There’s more firepower in my Jeep if I need it.”

  Ten minutes later, after retrieving her suitcase and dressing in a dark pair of jeans and polo shirt, Patti moved through the neighborhood, the picture of innocence out for a late night stroll. The street was a typical old Scottsdale neighborhood. The small, cinder block homes were varying shades of whites and tans with red tile roofs, set back on surprisingly deep lots. The desert xeriscaping of most of the yards left few shadows on this moonlit night, so lurking unseen was going to be difficult. For now, she would walk through the subdivision looking for anything out of place.

  With a vague sense of guilt, Patti realized it was soothing to walk alone in the warm air of the summer night. Not exactly the same sense of peaceful solitude of her nighttime patrols at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, but she was the only one outside, away from the screaming tension, from the waves of parental terror that permeated Grant’s small house.

  Grant and RJ had been her best friends for years and hardly a day had passed without them seeing each other. With the arrogance of youth, they’d determined that further education and careers came first—with no lingering goodbyes and no futile attempt at long distance relationships. A trip to a rented house in Sedona was the culmination of a special goodbye weekend—made magical by their final night of lovemaking.

  What a lesson in how the best laid plans could go wrong in so many unexpected ways. Not that they’d actually spent much time in planning their week. It was a date made years ago—in the event they were still unmarried, still childless. A half drunken promise made amid a tangle of bare limbs and in the sated aftermath of really hot sex.

  For a moment, she replayed the memory of their last night together. Although it hadn’t been their first three-way sex, it certainly was the most intense. Maybe because they’d all gone their separate ways the following morning. Or maybe it was because RJ had finally lowered his last defense, and let Grant in—literally.

  To this day, Patti could close her eyes and see the look on RJ’s face as he’d thrust into her while Grant took him from behind. Heavy, sexy lids, lips parted into a slight smile as he both took and gave, his breath harsh and punctuated with grunts of pleasure. The final promise of meeting sometime in the future nothing but a bittersweet dream.

  For all practical purposes, this reunion was a meeting of near-strangers. And yet, at least for her, with each day that had brought the actual date closer, her excitement had risen, as inevitable as the tide. Because she’d always believed deep in her heart that these two men were the ones who had gotten away. Which was probably why none of her other relationships had been successful—she’d been hanging on to a secret fantasy that they’d all be ready when they met again.

  Passing through the alley behind the house for the third time, Patti decided it was time to go back inside and check in. Her cell hadn’t vibrated, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any news. Certainly nothing had changed outside as she’d walked the streets surrounding Grant’s. She would make one more pass in front of his house before heading inside.

  As she turned the corner, Patti saw the first sign of life all night. A small car made a wide right onto the street and rolled to a stop opposite Grant’s house, facing the wrong way. Too late to turn around without looking suspicious, Patti changed her posture, huddling in on herself and shortening her stride as she quickened her pace, going straight for her Jeep. Frequently glancing over her shoulder—as if she feared someone might be following her—she passed the car across the street without appearing to pay any attention to the young male inside. At her own driver-side door, she pretended to fumble with her keys as she took note of as many details as possible, including the plate number. Climbing inside, she delayed another few seconds, observing the car in her rearview mirror. Praying this was the break they needed, Patti started dialing her phone as she drove away.

  Chapter Six

  The ring of RJ’s phone had everyone in the house on their feet in an instant. RJ’s heart raced and it was suddenly hard to breathe as he snatched his phone from the coffee table. God, please let her be okay. “Patti?”

  “Put me on speaker.” Her voice held a note of excited tension.

  “You are,” RJ said. He looked to Graeme and confirmed the man was taking notes. Grant was watching, face pale, his long, slender fingers clutching his own throat.

  “A car pulled up to the opposite side of the house a few minutes ago—red Prius, Arizona tags.” Like an automatic weapon, letters and numbers shot out, and Graeme was typing into the iPhone he kept at the ready.

  “I was already on the street when he pulled around the corner. Only suspicious activity is stopping on the street opposite the house, facing the wrong direction. Occupant is a single male, Caucasian, too dark for other details. I’m sorry, Graeme, he spotted me, so the only thing I could do was get in my Jeep and drive away.”

/>   “You did good. Just keep driving for a few. Michael bumped up the timetable and is briefing the feds, now. You met Jolynn’s guy Marcus, right?” RJ had no idea who all these people were that they mentioned, but Patti seemed to, and he took it on faith she’d speak up if there was a problem with anyone.

  “Yes, he went to the ballgame with us last time I was in town.”

  “Marcus is good people. He’s our best operative and he’s on the way over here. He can take over the watch, or follow, if the male is still out there. When you’re sure you’re clear, park in a different location and enter through the alley.”

  After listening for a minute, RJ left his phone on the table while he raced for the bedroom to get what he needed from his computer bag. Without a word to anyone, he opened the back door, barely registering Graeme’s curse and Grant’s strangled call of his name. There was no time to lose. If the man out front was involved with little Annie’s kidnapping, RJ was the only one with a remote chance of tracking him before he hightailed it from the neighborhood.

  Moving awkwardly between two houses, RJ emerged several yards away from the car, but he could see the shadowy figure reach for the steering wheel and the brake lights gave a quick flicker as if the driver was touching the pedal. Was he getting ready to drive off? Or shit…what if the guy lived in the neighborhood and was just putting his car in park, preparing to settle in for the remaining few hours of the night?

  God. RJ was a lab rat—not a fucking surveillance expert. Sure, he studied reels of video, police work, undercover cops, and military operations. After all, he needed to understand how they did their jobs so he was better prepared to create solutions to problems they might not even be aware they had. That didn’t make him an expert in fieldwork. No fucking way. But here he was, directly in line of the guy’s view and adding a false weave to his walk, hoping like hell he’d be taken for a neighbor with too much to drink, stumbling his way home.