“Who’s ‘she’?” Amanda grabbed the fridge before it shut. She scanned it briefly and plunked a carton of Tropicana orange juice on the counter.
“Always has to be a female agent present,” Banks said. “Combs is a medical officer. She doesn’t stay here full-time.”
Of course it made sense that they needed a woman chaperone, but Jaci felt safe with Banks. His gruff voice and kind eyes reminded her of her father. Though he was often away on business trips, she’d always felt they had a close relationship. Like she had with Seth, her brother.
Jaci hadn’t figured out yet if her father was a good guy or a bad guy. The Hand knew him by name, and apparently it made her a more valuable commodity.
“How are the kids?” Banks asked, running a thumb over his unibrow and leaning back in his chair. “Healthy?”
Combs swallowed her juice with one swig and eyed Sara. “Young one there needs an OB. I’m not licensed for that.”
A pink hue crept up Sara’s face.
Banks shot her a sympathetic glance. “I’ll get one over here.”
Combs tried to shuffle between the counter and Ricky, and he scooted closer to Jaci to let her by. His forearm brushed hers, sending waves of heat rushing up to her face. She kept her eyes glued to her plate and concentrated on lifting a fork to her mouth.
Outside, a vehicle whispered over the smooth concrete driveway. A moment later the door leading to the garage opened and a tall woman with ebony skin and black hair stepped in.
“Hello. I’m Agent Magrew.” Her rich, silky voice calmed Jaci’s nerves. “Here.” Agent Magrew dropped a package on the table. “Mail.”
“Agent.” Banks nodded to her. “Thought I heard your car. What’s in the package?”
“Letters,” she answered. “Sent from the office. The parents were all notified in person of the teens’ safety, and they were invited to send correspondence back with the agents.”
Combs dropped her paper plate on the counter. “I’m off.”
“No letters for us.” Neal sat down next to Jaci.
“Guess that’s what happens when you don’t have living relatives,” Ricky grunted.
“What do you call me, dead?” Sara asked.
“Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I forget we have you. You’re a new addition to the family.” Though Ricky and Neal were Sara’s brothers, she had only met them a few weeks earlier.
“Let’s see here.” Magrew opened the package and tossed several envelopes on the table. “And a note from Agent Reynolds’s daughter.” She tossed a three-by-five note card on top of the envelopes.
“I knew Megan had a crush on me.” Ricky picked it up.
“It’s to the girls, you idiot.” Neal snatched it from his brother and handed it to Jaci.
Jaci pocketed Megan’s note and flipped through the envelopes until she found the one from her mother. Tears filled her eyes as she read the elegant script that sprawled across the paper. “Mamá,” she whispered. She held the letter in her hands. She didn’t want to read it now, in front of everyone.
“Can we write them back?” Amanda asked.
Banks shook his head. “No, unfortunately. We’re keeping it a secret that you’ve been found. No mail can be sent because it might be intercepted. If news leaks, we’ll have to move you to a location with tighter security.”
Jaci wanted to read her letter on her bed, without any interruptions, savoring every word. “I’m going downstairs.”
“Hang on,” Banks said. “We want to give you kids a tour of the place. There’s a dojo and a fitness room downstairs.”
“I’m sure I can find it,” Jaci replied. The envelope practically burned in her hand. “I just want to be alone.” She waved the envelope.
No one argued further, so she hurried away. She entered the shared bedroom downstairs and sank back on the bed, exhaling. She’d always enjoyed her alone time, though she was used to getting it on the track field as mile after mile disappeared beneath her sneakers. She pulled out the letter, fingers trembling with anxiety.
It was short, only a few paragraphs. The flowing Spanish cursive read haltingly, like her mother wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it.
Jaci understood why. Her father had vanished, according to her mother. Simply disappeared. No phone calls, no letters, nothing. The police had been searching the house for clues, as they believed him culpable of misconduct. Tears pricked Jaci’s eyes, and the words blurred.
She had suspected a problem, of course. Especially after she overheard their kidnapper calling him the Carnicero, or the Butcher. How could he have lied to his family this whole time?
And Seth, her older brother, wasn’t doing very well. He was short-tempered and moody. His grades were falling and he was in danger of losing his scholarship.
A knock sounded on the door. How long had she been crying? She kept her head down, ignoring it.
She must not have closed the door all the way, because it slid open.
“Hey, Jace.” Ricky stood in the doorway, his light brown hair falling in his face. “Pretty impressive fitness room. Want to see it?”
Jaci turned around, fumbling for a pillowcase, trying to wipe her eyes. “I’ll be right there.”
She heard him cross the room, felt the bed sink when he sat down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Problems at home.”
“Like what? Everyone okay? Your brothers?”
She shook her head, still speaking to the pillowcase. “No. Everyone’s not okay.”
Ricky touched her forearm. “What’s happened?”
Jaci peeked out at him, noting the tension and concern on his face. “It’s not that bad. I’m worried about my brother.” She couldn’t tell him her suspicions about her father.
“Is he in trouble?”
“Yes,” Jaci whispered. Ricky knew about trouble. He had been on probation for starting a fire in school and stealing a car when she met him. “But not that kind of trouble. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I might.”
“It’s trouble with his grades.”
He gave a short laugh. “Okay. I might not.”
She picked up her letter and shoved it under the pillow. “My mom said he’s not doing well in school. He’s quit going to church. He doesn’t seem interested in anything.”
“Jaci, his little sister was kidnapped. He has a lot on his mind.”
And his dad’s vanished. “I’m sure that’s all it is.” She dried her face with her fingers.
“So, you’re crying because your brother doesn’t like school anymore?”
Seth was only part of the reason. But she couldn’t tell him that. “You’re right. It’s not that bad. Show me the fitness room. I hope it has a treadmill.”
October 27, Idaho Falls, Idaho
Detective Carl Hamilton marched past the hum of the copy machine, strolling between the two officers flirting by the water fountain, the woman giggling as she held her cup of water in one hand and touched the man’s chest with her other. He let himself into Chief Miller’s office, closing the door behind him to drown out the noise.
Miller glanced up from his phone call and lifted one finger, then turned his eyes back down to the desk calendar, twirling a pen mindlessly.
Carl pressed his lips together. He didn’t like being ‘ordered’ to the boss’s office. Made him feel like a school child again, sent to the principal’s office. Even worse to find the boss too busy to deal with him. He forced his fingers to relax around the Styrofoam cup of coffee, letting his eyes drift around the organized office. A stainless steel cubicle on the desk held paper clips, pens, and post-it notes in neat cubbies. A flower bloomed in a pot on top of the cabinet behind the desk. The file cabinet stood open, making Carl feel a twinge of trepidation.
Miller waved the pen at him to sit down, mustache twitching over his lip. “Yes. I understand. Thank you for your patience. All right. Goodbye.”
Carl still stood by the door. “You asked to see me?”
“Sit.” The chief motioned again.
Exhaling, Carl sat down hard. His coffee sloshed but remained in the cup.
“Do you know why you’re here, Carl?”
“I can guess. You want an update on the Rivera case?”
Miller nodded, pressing the tips of his fingers together and leaning back. “What did you find when you searched the house?”
Carl hated this. Shortly after Rivera’s daughter, Jaci, was kidnapped, the man vanished. Normally Carl could pull a lead out of coworkers or friends, but in this case, they had all vanished with him. “Nothing. Yet. I’ll go back this week.”
“You are one of my best. But I think I’ve overloaded you. You’ve got this case, The Hand, and your other cases to take care of.”
“What are you suggesting? A partner?” Carl wouldn’t mind one.
“Actually, I was thinking of taking you off the case.” Miller put his pen down and entwined his fingers.
Carl blanched. Anything but that. He had built this whole case; he was invested until he solved it. “With all due respect, sir, nobody knows this case like I do.”
Miller nodded. “I know that’s true. But the FBI and Interpol are already involved. What more do you think you have to offer?”
A fair question. Carl mulled it over. “I’m going to find this guy. The police in Texas are sending me the hard drive to the computer system we found at Rivera’s work. As soon as I get some names, contacts, I’ll know where he is.” And I’ll find out exactly how he’s connected to his daughter’s kidnapping. “I have some questions for his daughter, too, now that she’s been found.”
“What news on The Hand?”
Carl’s shoulders relaxed. Now this case was hot. “I’ve reviewed the preliminary reports we got from the kidnapped girls. They were brief, and the FBI should have more information soon. I’m flying to Ohio in five days to meet with them. From there I’m flying to Montreal. I know I can find his hideout.” Before The Hand kidnapped the four girls, including Rivera’s daughter, he was not a high priority. The kidnappings and subsequent murder of one of the girls had changed all that.
“The Hand has put a lot of effort into retrieving them. Did the reports give any idea why?”
“Nothing concrete,” Carl admitted, “though I have put a few theories together. First of all, he must know they can identify him. But that’s not enough. Second, his actions seem rather desperate. Killing the girls would have simplified things for him, but instead he planned to sell them, use them for ransom. That, coupled with the high number of thefts in the weeks prior, makes me think he needed money. Third—I’m not sure on this one, but I think the girls are hiding something. Something’s off. I hope to discover what it is when I meet them.”
The chief nodded. “Very good. I’ll leave you on both of them—for now. Carl, if I take this one from you, it’s as a favor. I need you focused on your other cases, not spending too much time on this goose hunt. Got it?”
He left it unsaid that if they didn’t get the federal grant, the hunt would be over for Carl anyway. “Got it.” Recognizing a dismissal, Carl stood. He hurried back to his office, almost tripping over his own feet. Throwing a hand out, he caught the corner of his desk for balance. Several sheets of paper slid off, followed by two hardcover books. He gathered them back up and shoved them into a chair, mind mulling over Gregorio Rivera.
The man’s whole life was a lie, all the way down to his name. Was it coincidence that when Carl got close to the truth, Rivera disappeared, deserting a wife and three children?
He closed his office door and booted up his computer.
Now that the girls had been rescued, finding their kidnapper was high priority for two reasons: to prosecute him and to keep them safe. The man had hunted them across Canada and New York. They weren’t out of danger.
And yet, Carl couldn’t help feeling that Rivera was a key player in all of this. If Carl could just figure out what that key unlocked, everything might fall into place.
Where could Rivera be? He spun his chair away from his computer and flipped through his file folders.
The Windows jingle rang out, and Carl turned back to the PC. He logged into his police account, skimming emails.
The third one caught his eye. He inhaled sharply, feeling his heart jump into his throat.
From: Gregorio Rivera
Subject: STOP TRYING TO FIND ME
Chapter Five
You’re not seriously planning on going for a jog.” Ricky stared at Jaci while she contemplated the treadmill.
She ran her fingers over the console. A three-hour nap had done wonders for her, and now she felt renewed and energized. Her legs yearned to move. “No. Not now. I don’t have the right clothes.” She glanced down at the shoes Agent Reynolds had bought her in New York. “But I could use a good sweat.”
“I’m no athlete, Jace, but I think you might be a bit short on fuel.”
“You must not have noticed all the calories I just consumed.” She walked past him and headed up the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To see if anyone has any workout pants.”
Banks showed Jaci a second office on the main floor, one that had closets full of random clothing and all sorts of sizes. Together they sifted through until Jaci found an adequate tank top and stretchy pants.
“Now don’t overdo it,” he warned, handing her the items. “Your medical report says you are severely underweight.”
“I’ll be careful,” she promised. The mere thought of a good run made her feel lighter. It was the best way she could think of to purge her worries. She hurried back downstairs to change.
Sara and Amanda were in the room. Sara lay on Jaci’s bed, her blond hair spread across the pillow while she slept.
“Gosh, I’d give anything for a phone,” Amanda sighed. She sat in a plastic chair with her feet propped up on her bed, flipping through a magazine. “I mean, it’s not like I really care what’s going on with these celebrities. I just want to talk to some real people.”
“I hear ya,” Jaci replied, changing into the workout clothes.
Amanda’s green eyes widened. “Are you actually going to exercise? No way. You’re crazy.”
“Guys like athletic girls.” Jaci couldn’t help throwing the jibe at her.
Amanda shrugged, turning her attention back to the magazine. “Says who? You want to impress a guy, put on a short skirt.” She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Or does Ricky like athletic girls?”
Jaci’s face burned. “I have no idea what Ricky likes or doesn’t like.” And I don’t care, she wanted to add. But that was a lie, and she and Amanda both knew it.
“Fine. Knock yourself out. But not really.”
Jaci pulled her hair into a high ponytail. “Amanda.”
“Hmm?” She seemed absorbed in her magazine.
“Do you still have the necklace? You know.” Jaci lowered her voice. “The one.” The one Amanda had found in the back of the kidnapper’s van. The one that the kidnapper desperately wanted back.
“Why?” A note of caution crept into Amanda’s voice. “Did someone ask about it?”
“I’m just curious. I never saw you get rid of it.”
“I still have it.”
“Where do you hide it?”
Amanda stood up and lifted her shirt. After months of starvation, her stomach was concave. The thick pearl and diamond necklace hugged her waist. “It broke once.” Amanda turned it around to show a piece of red yarn tied between the two ends. “Probably not the smartest thing to
do, sleep on a necklace.”
“Where did you get the string?”
“I found it in a drawer in the kitchen.”
“What about before then? What did you do with it when it broke?”
Amanda smiled mischievously. “Kept it in my bra.”
Jaci laughed. “Clever.”
Amanda shrugged. “Nobody ever goes there. So it was safe.”
Jaci laughed again, though she had seen Amanda and Ricky kissing once, and she’d wondered how involved their relationship became. “Are you going to give it to the FBI?”
“Should I?”
“Probably.”
“It won’t get him off our trail. He wants it back.”
Jaci knew Amanda was right. “We should still get rid of it. Well, whatever you want. I’ll be in the dojo.”
“See ya.”
There was nobody in the fitness room, which suited Jaci. She didn’t want an audience for what was certain to be a short-lived and pathetic run. She was an endurance runner, specializing in cross-country, and she was out of shape. She stepped onto the treadmill and started it up.
Five minutes later she propped her feet up on the sides, resting her head on the console and gasping for breath. The black mat sped away beneath her, and drops of sweat dotted it as it went by.
Her eyes stung, and she dug a fist into them. How could she be the same as before? She couldn’t even run anymore. Everything had changed. She’d lost her father and her best friend. Pain stabbed at her heart at the memory of Callie, of her brutal murder. Jaci began to cry, letting the tears mingle with her sweat. Her shoulders shook and she turned the machine off, gripping the sides for support.
The floorboards creaked, and she glanced up. “Ricky.” Great. He saw her crying again.
“You found workout clothes. Looky what I found.” He handed her a bottle of Gatorade.
She tried a smile and took it from him. “Thanks. Looks like I’m done for now, anyway. I’m beat.” She sat down on the side of the treadmill and gulped down the Gatorade, hoping he couldn’t tell she’d been crying.
Altercation Page 3
