by LAURA HARNER
The battery of the Prius purred to life and RJ was suddenly lit up like an opening night. Fuck. Six more steps. Five. The car inched forward, the interior lights of the dash dim, but giving some form to the shadow. A big man, but surprisingly young. The man-boy didn’t look like he had enough facial hair to shave, but his shoulders looked like they belonged to football player.
RJ lurched toward the car, one hand landing on the roof, the other knocking on the window. “Hey, man…you see my girlfriend? Fucking bitch.” He didn’t slur so much as he drew out the words, slow and careful.
The window slid down in fits and starts, as if the driver wasn’t sure he should be opening up to the stranger but couldn’t resist sharing what he knew.
“Your girl in jeans? I mean, it’s dark, but I saw a bitch get in a SUV a few minutes ago.” He tapped his hands nervously on the wheel and looked toward the spot where Patti had been parked. The word bitch trembled a little on his lips, as if he wasn’t used to saying it out loud—or at least not in front of adults. What was this? A training program for wannabe kidnappers? Pick on someone without any resources? Shaking off the thought that made Grant seem like a target because he was a teacher, RJ made himself stay with the scenario he’d created.
“Fucking cunt. S’posed to give me a ride home.” RJ trailed his fingers over the surface of the car, his heart rate speeding up, but his hands feeling steady, sure. “Shit. Hey! You live around here?” He looked around the car, as if the boy’s room might suddenly appear.
“Uhm…no. Not really. Do you…uh…need a ride somewhere?”
Fuck, wasn’t that tempting? But if the kid wasn’t associated with the crime, RJ would be wasting everyone’s time. Besides, he was the only one who knew what he was about to do, and those inside didn’t need a second person to look for if he disappeared, did they?
“Naw, man. I’m good. Fuck her. I’m just gonna go back to my friend’s house. I wasn’t ready to leave yet anyway. Fuckin’ cunt,” he said again. He’d run out of words the kid might consider cool—time to move on.
“Okay, well—I gotta go. See you around.”
“Yeah, same here.” RJ slapped the top of the car and stumbled back. He gave one last look, just as the kid pulled away, and nearly screamed in frustration. Or puked at his own worthlessness. He should have fucking pulled the little prick from the car and beat the shit out of him.
Three minutes later, RJ stepped into Grant’s dimly lit kitchen. The first thing that hit him was the smell of a richly brewed coffee. The second thing that hit him was Patti’s hand. A right clip to his shoulder that caused him to stumble a step sideways before he caught his balance.
“You stupid sonofabitch! What did you think you were doing? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“No, I couldn’t. I have—”
“Goddammit! What the fuck happened?” Graeme drew himself up to his full height, and an angry flush crawled up his neck. “Everybody in here, right now.” He pointed to the small dining room table. RJ held his head up, refusing to let the waves of anger deter him.
“I’ll be right there.” He strode past the impressive combined presence of Patti and Graeme, winked at Grant, then went to the bedroom to grab his computer bag. By the time he returned to the dining room, Patti and Grant were seated at the table, while Graeme paced, muttering into his mic. No doubt telling Michael how fucked up this civilian engineer was for busting their non-existent surveillance.
Opening his case, he looked up at Graeme. “Give me two minutes and I’ll explain. Would you mind pouring me a cup of that coffee?”
Despite the overriding tension and the horrifyingly high stakes, he thought he caught a hint of a smile from Patti. As soon as his MacBook booted, RJ typed in a few commands then waited for the computer do its thing before he explained. A cup of coffee slammed down next to his elbow with a thud, dark liquid sloshing onto the table.
“Listen up, genius,” Graeme said. “Patti is a trained professional and even she got caught out there and was forced to improvise. We were damned lucky she didn’t get hurt—because that sure as fuck is likely to relate to the kidnapping. The plates turned out to be stolen. That driver was our best lead and thanks to you, he’s gone.”
RJ’s computer dinged but he didn’t look down. “Okay, look. I had—”
“No, RJ, let Graeme finish,” Patti said. “This is really important. We all want to help get Grant’s daughter back—everyone is doing what they’re best at. Right now, you can help by keeping Grant calm—not running around after kidnappers by yourself, unarmed, untrained.”
“I just want to—”
“I get it, RJ,” Graeme interrupted. “I really do. Look, I was a kidnap victim myself, once. I am speaking as more than one kind of expert here. What that little girl needs right now is for all of us to focus on finding her—”
“Shut the fuck up for a minute, would you? Here—” RJ tossed a specially modified cell phone to the big man. “Press speed dial one.”
Graeme caught the phone and flipped it over. He looked at the green screen on the front of the phone before pressing the appropriate keys, as directed. His brows pulled together into a frown. “Michael—hold up on my last request. Yeah. No. I know. Just monitor here for a minute, okay?”
Glancing at RJ before turning his stare back to the phone, he said quietly, “Tell me what I’m looking at.”
“The current location of the red Prius. Assuming no one found the transmitter I placed. I’ve got a little clearer image here on my computer if you want to step around. When I add the city grid to the layers on the GIS, you have a street location right here.” He pointed to the pop up window that was flickering through street intersections as the vehicle moved north. “When the car stops, you’ll have the exact address, assuming he’s on the grid. If he’s off-grid, I can get latitude and longitude. Either way, we’ll be able to locate him.”
“Holy fuck.”
Yeah, RJ knew it was pretty holy fuck—there were plenty of other trackers out there, but the compact size combined with the energy conserving circuitry and pinpoint accuracy was going to change the playing field in private and possibly government surveillance.
“Hey, no big deal. I didn’t realize I was going to have a shot at using it until Patti called. That’s why I didn’t wait around to explain. Besides, I’m afraid we have actual confirmation that the car is involved in Annie’s disappearance.”
Everyone around the table seemed to stiffen with increased tension. “What did you see?” Graeme asked.
RJ reached over to put his hand on Grant’s arm. The man looked wiped. When they’d been in college, Grant sported a perpetual tan, a healthy glow that followed him year-round as he racked up the miles running cross-country. He still looked every bit the runner, long and lean, but the tan had an unhealthy tint that seemed to turn grayer with each hour that passed without word of his missing daughter. RJ hated to add to his burden, but maybe the news would be a mixed blessing for those involved in the actual search.
“Grant, I’m sorry.” He gave his old friend’s hand a squeeze then looked back to Graeme. “I could see directly into the back of the Prius when the man drove away. There was a coil of white rope, and from the tight loops and gloss, I think it was nylon. There was a bag of zip ties—I use them all the time in my work, so yes, I’m sure. And a child’s shoe. It looked to be the same one in the photo Grant gave us earlier.”
Chapter Seven
Twenty minutes later, Grant watched as Patti went out the door with some silent-but-deadly type named Marcus. They would be in the first wave of agents…operatives…whatever Enwright Security called them…to go to the location pinpointed by RJ’s tracker. Meanwhile, the cops had been informed of the kidnapping and were on the way here to interview him about his daughter’s disappearance. Graeme was staying here as the law enforcement liaison and to field any questions about the delay in reporting the crime, and RJ was here for moral support. All Grant wanted to do was go with Patti to find
Annie. How could that possibly be too much to ask?
Grant felt like he was poised on the precipice of disaster. He suddenly remembered when he’d been seven or eight and his family had taken their first trip to Disneyland. They’d gotten up well-before sunrise and made the six-hour drive from their home in the valley, heading straight for the theme park. As soon as the park opened, they pushed through the gates like thoroughbreds at Hollywood Park, racing down Main Street and headed straight for their father’s favorite ride.
After a quick check of Grant’s height, their father dragged them through the still empty switch-back lines, until they were deep inside the launching pad of a rocket to space. His young boy’s heart hammered as the white tube jerked to a stop in front of the platform and he clambered in to sit on the floor of the car. He sat alone in the front, while his sister sat between their father’s legs in the back seat. A wave of thrilled terror shook him as the attendant gave a hard tug on Grant’s seatbelt, nodded once, and the car lurched forward.
Clickity-clack…the noise of the ride ratcheted up his anxiety as they slowly rose up at what seemed an impossible angle. Mechanical voices cautioned him to fasten his seatbelt, prepare for lift off. Lights flickered, the engine roared, and the car drew to a near stop with a click…click…click.
There. That instant, instinctual knowledge of the frailty of human life. The sickening awareness when you want to throw up because the whole world is about to fall out from underneath you and there isn’t one damn thing you can do stop it.
That was this moment. Just like that damn Space Mountain ride…he was going over the edge, into the darkness. Unable to see the next turn, barely constrained by the safety belt as he was tossed and jerked in unexpected directions at the whim of an unseen hand.
Grant closed his eyes and swallowed hard. RJ had seen Annie’s shoe in the back of the car that had only minutes before been across the street. Someone had taken his little girl. The precious gift bestowed upon him through a comedy of errors. Casual lovers, a torn condom, not enough interest to mention there was a full term pregnancy. Apparently not even sufficient mutual respect to mention she was dying before she’d gifted him with a daughter. He could only thank the powers that be that Michelle had called an attorney to make arrangements to finally tell Grant about Annie.
A loud knock on the door startled him from his thoughts and he looked up in time to catch Graeme and RJ exchange a look. The security expert was already moving to usher the cops inside, while RJ gave his arm a squeeze. Then his old friend leaned in close and Grant found his scent just as intoxicating as ever. For just a moment, he had a flash of their last time, of burying himself inside that tight ass, the force of his thrusts pushing RJ deep inside Patti. Good God. Had they ever really been that young and carefree?
“I’ll make more coffee, but I’m gonna stay close. You know the cops will ask hard questions—let Graeme answer whenever possible—and keep in mind that they’re just doing their jobs. Patti and the others will have Annie back before the local cops even have a clue.”
Grant swallowed hard and blinked against the sting in his eyes. He could hear Graeme behind them, ushering the police in through the backdoor, the quiet voices coolly professional.
RJ draped an arm over his shoulders, the weight reassuring, still oddly familiar. “Seriously, Grant, I know about Enwright Security—they’re the best in the business. If she’s where the car is located or if they find the guy out front, they’ll get Annie back. Be cool just a little longer, okay?”
Grant nodded, then turned his face to look directly at RJ. Without thinking, he reached to push the heavy black hair out of RJ’s eyes. Silky—just like he remembered. As if pulled by an unseen string, they leaned into each other, and for just a moment he wondered if RJ was going to kiss him. Then the voices of the men entering the dining room broke the spell of the moment and they both pulled back.
“Grant Anderson—Detectives Parker and Bennett. This is his friend RJ Mendez.” Graeme made the introductions, indicating who was who with a nod of his head, his face perfectly devoid of any expression. Not an auspicious sign.
Parker was apparently going to take the lead, as he stepped forward and heaved himself into the chair directly across from Grant. Breathing hard, he was thirty pounds from fitting into the elastic waistband of his Haggars, and his stained yellow tie failed to cover the last button of his straining plaid shirt. Everything about the man screamed stereotype donut-eating detective. Of course appearances could be deceiving. For all he knew, this was their ace detective.
Detective Bennett was Parker’s polar opposite. A woman about his own age, with pale hair drawn into a neat tail, hands busy with a note pad and pen, even as her eyes moved around the room. Grant wondered if she remained standing in an effort to distance herself from her slob of a partner or if she liked the space to act as an observer.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Mr. Anderson?”
Before he could answer, RJ pushed his chair back and made a move as if to rise, probably to get that coffee he’d talked about. The detective’s voice was sharp. “No, don’t get up, Mr. Mendez—we’ll want to talk with you, too…”
Graeme stepped forward. “Detective Parker, I don’t think it will be necessary to interview Mr. Mendez in this situation—”
“Yeah, well that’s why you’re a civilian now, isn’t it?”
Chapter Eight
Across town, the team from Enwright Security was in place, timed to make their assault just as the locals were informed of the crime. It kept things cleaner that way. Strapped into a Kevlar vest, her weapons ready, radio tested and working, Patti was as prepared as she could be. She was surprised to be accepted as part of the rescue, but in reality, her role was very narrowly defined. Her job was to get Annie. The other men and women of the extraction team would take care of everything else.
Their target was a small adobe building located just off the parking lot of an abandoned nursery. The red Prius was partially hidden between the back of the building and a whitewashed wooden garden gate. The quaint entry led to what would have once been the main display area when the abandoned garden center had actual customers. Faded signs posted around the property proclaimed this booming business was for sale. Right. Maybe ten years ago. Now, it was in need of a total razing before the new owner could start over.
Still, Patti thought the place held a certain charm, with towering eucalyptus trees shading the west side of the property, a trench meandering through the forty acres, probably the remnants of a manufactured stream to lend ambience. The whole place screamed of a time when landscaping in the valley had been accomplished without thought of water conservation. No wonder they’d gone belly up.
A hint of pink settled at the horizon, the black silhouettes of mountains starting to show. In another fifteen minutes the sky would be light enough to show the location of every one of the operatives, adding an additional sense of urgency. A voice spoke calmly in her ear.
“We have visual confirmation.” The female voice was low, words precise. She’d been introduced as Jolynn Enwright, so Patti assumed a sister, as opposed to spouse, since she knew Michael Enwright to be in a relationship with Graeme and Liz.
“We have two males. One male seated in a lawn chair, location south west corner of the room. The second male is standing near the large front window, northeast side of the building. Patti, watch yourself, he’s facing your direction. Let the others move first. The child is on a mattress on the south wall, unmoving. Maybe asleep, bound, or both. I cannot get an angle on the weapon models, so everyone assume worse case, armed and extremely dangerous.” There was a pause, then an audible click before Jolynn continued, in her slow, calm voice.
“Michael, this is Jolynn. Please document this call as an official notification that I have located two suspects in the Annie Anderson kidnapping case. Two suspects, armed and dangerous, the child is in imminent danger. My personnel are in position and due to the approaching sunrise, my team is mo
ving in.”
Jolynn recited the address and Patti realized the pause and click she’d heard moments earlier were the initiation of a second audio recording—since she knew Michael had been already on the line with Jolynn. This one would serve as the official record presented to investigators.
“Request backup at my location. We’ll want someone to haul the trash out when we’re finished. All right, folks, it’s show time. Go. Go. Go.”
The scene unfolded before her with the precision of a choreographed ballet. Four dark figures moved in close to the building, two on each side. Two more lay prone with scoped rifles trained on the door and picture window. Marcus used hand signals to focus everyone, then on a signal of three, he kicked open the door and tossed a flashbang through opening.
Not waiting for the situation to escalate, Patti ran full on, straight into the building, focused on the south wall, trusting the others to take care of their own targets. There were confused shouts, muffled curses. Someone yelled, “Gun…”
Rapid gunfire erupted amid the cover of smoke and turned her run into a crablike scramble, until she hit the mattress. A thin, muffled keening guided her to the small girl.
“Annie…Annie. I have you, honey. Daddy’s waiting. I have you.” She repeated her words over and over, knowing they went unheard in a sudden rapid round of explosions. Then everything fell quiet, with only the child’s muffled cries breaking the silence of the new dawn.
“Clear, clear, clear…”
“Shit.” The word was uttered from inside the room and heard simultaneously in her earpiece, but might have been spoken through cotton, for all the ringing in her ears. Patti looked up to see Jolynn standing near the window, looking at the bloody body of a man. “Michael, the scene is secure, we have the girl. What’s her status, Patti?”
Patti nodded, then did a quick visual. “Safe. Conscious with no visible injuries. Taking her outside now.” As she gathered the girl in her arms, she listened as Jolynn examined the room, briefed Michael and the team.
