by Juno Rushdan
“Yes.” She gave an encouraging nod. Any glimmer of hope she could offer she would gladly give. Not only for Jackson’s sake, but for her own as well. Far too many kidnapping cases, like the one involving her sister, didn’t have a happy ending. The families were left devastated. Broken. Sometimes beyond repair. She shook herself, refusing to let ugly memories distract her. “It’s pretty much intact. We’ll have it dusted.”
She glanced back at Nick, who was sealing the evidence bag.
Movement in the sky snatched her gaze. Another drone was following, and a second. Oh, no. Whoever planned this had indeed taken into consideration the prospect of losing one. Slim odds they’d find any prints. There went a possible lead.
Her heart sank.
“What is it now?” Jackson asked.
Madeline chided herself for reacting and wiped the expression from her face which had given away that something else was wrong. “More drones.”
The sirens grew louder from the approaching fire trucks.
Jackson’s phone chimed. He fished his cell from his inner jacket pocket.
“Another text, from an unknown number.” He swiped the screen and read the message out loud.
“Behold the demonstration of my resolve. Appreciate the mercy shown to your employees. Understand the FBI can’t help you. Resign on camera when the press arrives. Fail and your daughter pays the ultimate price.”
Unease twisted Madeline’s stomach into a knot. The carbon monoxide alarm had been deliberately triggered. This was all a ploy to evacuate the building and spare the workers’ lives. “Let me see it.” After reading it once, she’d have the text committed to memory.
Jackson handed it over. “I bet this time it won’t be traceable.”
She was inclined to agree, but she knew better than to voice the concern. “Our team will still try everything possible.”
“What won’t be traceable?” Nick set the bagged drone down in the trunk.
“Second text message,” Madeline said. “Further demands.”
Nick closed the door and came around the side of the vehicle. She passed him the cell phone.
Two fire trucks pulled through the gate as Nick read the message. “Another doozy. Let’s see if the number will receive a text.” He thumbed a few quick words. A second later, he shook his head. “Message delivery failed. One-way communication.”
Jackson buttoned his collar, put his tie on and adjusted it.
“What are you doing?” Madeline asked.
“Preparing to go on camera.” He combed back his blond hair with his fingers, not leaving a strand out of place. Within seconds, he appeared polished and poised. “Resign like the kidnapper wants. The press will be here any minute.”
There was no doubt in Madeline’s mind that every local news station had received an anonymous tip about the explosion, ensuring full press coverage would be imminent.
As if on cue, a KIRO 7 Eyewitness News chopper zipped through the sky, taking a position over the water with a prime vantage point of the blazing inferno.
The kidnapper was smart and miles ahead of them, tightening their control of the situation at a brutal pace. Madeline had to change the dynamic, shift the balance of power somehow and buy them time, even just a little. “You can’t resign. It’s the only card you have to play.”
“Can’t?” Jackson’s eyes narrowed, growing cold. He got out of the SUV, towering over her and sucking up the air with his fury.
Madeline stood her ground. Jackson was a distraught parent. Terrified. Angry. Frantic. Although the whirlwind of emotion raging inside him was directed at her, it wasn’t because of her. “You shouldn’t resign. It’s not the right play.”
“I don’t have a choice.” He pushed past her and Nick.
“Please listen to me.” She kept her voice calm and firm despite the panic welling in her gut. “I do think you should go on camera.”
Jackson stopped and turned. “And say what?”
“Demand proof of life. A video of Emma telling you something only she would know. Maybe the name of her favorite toy. Footage could reveal clues to help us find her, and the kidnapper won’t expect it.” There were no guarantees, but she was fairly certain Jackson issuing a demand would throw the unsub—unknown subject—off-kilter. Emma’s captor wanted to avoid direct confrontation and expected everyone to play by their rules. Perhaps that’s why the demands were sent via text. A phone call invited discussion, negotiation. A one-way text left no opportunity for debate.
“Which also means not doing as I was told might antagonize him,” Jackson said. “Provoke the psycho to lash out. Retaliate.”
A point she couldn’t deny. “I’m well aware of the risks. But this is worth taking the chance. Her abductor, whoever it is, has thought this out. He’s prepared. Even worse, he’s changed the terms as he sees fit, according to his timetable. First you had twenty-four hours to resign and now you’ve got, what? Twenty minutes before there are camera crews out front. We need time to catch up. I’m right about this.” She was sure of it.
“I don’t know.” Jackson shook his head. “Sounds too risky.”
“You should listen to her,” Nick said. “She’s the best kidnapping expert I’ve ever seen. She knows how to handle an unsub. If anyone can get Emma back with the least possible risk, it’s Madeline. You need to trust her judgment.”
Jackson’s steely gaze bounced between them before settling on her a beat. He stroked a hand over his mouth, the troubled expression on his face not fading. He was assessing her, deliberating. His silence signified he didn’t trust her. Not that she would let that rattle her.
Faith in self was essential in this business. She needed the unshakable kind that would get Emma home safely.
Given the chance, her plan would work and prove to Jackson that he could rely on her expertise. But if it backfired, she could have an emotional parent going rogue to contend with.
She had to convince him. “The kidnapper made sure to evacuate the building and detonate the bomb before we went inside,” Madeline said, closing the gap between them. “This person doesn’t want the situation to escalate to murder. When you’re on camera, talk about Emma, use her name a lot. You have to humanize her to her abductor.”
“I’ll need my phone back,” Jackson said. “To show the press a few pictures.”
“Good idea.” Madeline gestured to Nick and he gave the phone to Jackson. “Remember, winning a negotiation requires patience and keeping our heads. But whatever you do, don’t resign. Not yet. As grim as it might sound, we need to know that Emma is alive. Then and only then should you comply with the demand.”
* * *
GUILT THRUMMED THROUGH Jackson faster and hotter than the blood in his veins as he stood in front of a gaggle of reporters. Cameras and mics were pointed at him. Everyone waited for him to make a statement after the communications liaison, Caitlyn, had explained the circumstances regarding the kidnapping and the explosion.
Everything was on the line. Emma’s life. His own life because he wouldn’t survive losing his only child.
It was his fault she had been taken in the first place. He’d let down his guard, looked away for a moment too long, brushed aside his daughter’s eagerness to see a puppy.
No more mistakes.
“I appreciate the assistance from local law enforcement and the FBI.” Jackson swallowed in an attempt to clear the emotion thickening his throat. “I’d like to address the person holding my daughter captive. Whoever you are, I beg you not to hurt Emma.” He held up a picture of her on his cell phone, giving the cameramen an opportunity to zoom in on the photo of her taken this morning, posing in her pantsuit, before he swiped to the next one of her. “She gets cold easily and is allergic to strawberries. She’s a sweet, loving child. Creative. Spirited. Kind. She has the biggest heart.”
A favorite image of Emma—curly b
lond halo of hair and her face lighting up when he had surprised her with her first horseback riding lesson, the way she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed—rose in his mind like an apparition.
Pure joy bled into stark fear.
Proof of life.
Madeline was right. He needed to know his daughter was still alive, but at what cost?
The kidnapper had been startlingly persuasive with that fiery demonstration. Someone who was willing to kidnap an innocent child and blow up a building was capable of anything.
More images flooded him, holidays, birthdays, breakfasts, bedtime. He struggled to stem the tide.
Fail and your daughter pays the ultimate price.
His mind spun, but tremors erupted in his heart. They spread down his arms, tingling in his fingers. The phone shook in his hand.
No matter what happened to him, he only wanted Emma to be safe. To grow up and live a long, happy life. No sacrifice on his part was too great.
“Per your demands, I hereby resign as CEO from ETC effective immediately. But I need to know that my daughter is okay. That you haven’t hurt her. I need to see her, do you understand? Send me a video of Emma showing that she hasn’t been harmed and in it have her tell you what she wished for on her last birthday. Once you do, ETC will release a press statement confirming that my resignation is officially binding and permanent.”
Jackson turned his back on the press and stalked away from the flurry of questions the press hurled at him and made his way back through the Duwamish gate.
The fire was being contained. Gray smoke filled the sky above the building. Nick was busy coordinating with the fire department while Madeline was on an intercept course with Jackson.
He kept walking toward the SUV.
Though he could no longer see her behind him, he was aware that she was hot on his heels.
“What was that?” Madeline asked once they were out of earshot of the press and employees.
He stopped and faced her. “I’m sure you’re good at your job. Hell, you might even be the best, but I haven’t vetted you. I don’t know your track record, if there are any red flags, what’s your success-to-failure ratio, the number of hostages who haven’t been rescued. The only thing I know for certain is that every instinct I have is screaming that compliance was the right call. And I always trust my gut.”
“I can understand that. Respect it even. I always trust mine as well. But vetted or not, I am an expert for a reason. I’ve been through this many times. What you did was in direct opposition of the play I advised.”
“With all due respect, this isn’t a game. You may be a kidnapping expert, but the one thing I specialize in is risk assessment. This is my daughter we’re talking about here, and it was too risky to antagonize the person who has her. I will not take unnecessary chances when it comes to Emma.”
“Kidnapping situations can go wrong. There have been casualties in my previous cases, but none of them a victim. I have never lost someone.”
“Not yet.” No one had a perfect record forever.
She drew herself up, standing taller, and stared him dead in the eye. “I don’t intend to let Emma be my first.”
“Do you have children, Madeline?”
A flicker of emotion slashed across her face before she tensed and staggered back a step as though the question had been a physical blow. Then she went completely still. “No.” All the strength that had been in her voice a moment ago was gone. “I don’t.”
“Then you can’t possibly understand my position. For all your effort and good intentions, you and the rest of the FBI will walk away from this case once it’s done and move on to the next. But this is my life. And this was my choice to make. One only I have to live with.” Strip away the credentials, the experience, sense of duty, and this boiled down to something far more organic. A parent’s love. “I will not, under any circumstances, gamble with my daughter’s life.”
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe he went rogue, on television, to the press,” Madeline said, standing in the smaller, more personal conference room at BAU headquarters. She clenched the back of a chair, letting her fingers dig into the leather. “I thought we had an understanding.”
She had hoped she’d convinced Jackson Rhodes to trust her professional expertise. To work with her and follow her instructions.
It was a good thing Caitlyn had taken over with him to oversee the setup of the tap on his home landline and personal computer while the rest of the team regrouped. If she was standing in front of him right now, what she had to say to him might not reflect the most diplomatic choice of words.
Miguel swallowed a bite of his sandwich from Emerald City Roasters and wiped his mouth. “The situation could’ve been worse. At least he asked for proof of life,” he said, and she agreed, but the situation could have been better, leaving them in a stronger position. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. It happens to the best of us.”
“Not to me. Not on my watch.” An emotional parent going rogue could jeopardize this case just as much as her getting the profile of an unsub wrong. That’s why she always took her time, analyzed every angle and relied on her training to help her connect the dots. Sometimes in the field a split-second decision had to be made, but only rookies made a rash call.
“First time for everything.” Dash leaned back in his chair with a smug look and folded his arms.
How could Jackson be so...
She wasn’t sure what he was. Reckless. Infuriating. Good-looking to the point of distraction. A wild card.
A parent acting out of conviction. And love. Madeline’s heart softened a little more as her temperature cooled.
There was no denying that giving in to the demands against her advice took a great deal of courage, even if it had made her job harder.
With a shake of her head, she suppressed her reluctant admiration, yanked out a chair and sat. “Where do we stand on statements from those who were there?”
“I prioritized the catering crew of three, the magician and the band,” Dash said. “Every year, ETC uses the same catering company, but their staff has a high turnover rate. A lot of college kids who need part-time employment. No one working on the crew that day knew each other. I ran checks on them but turned up nothing. They were all clean. Same with the magician and band. Everyone was so busy doing their job, they didn’t notice anything.”
“We still have hundreds of statements left to review.” David munched on fries from his to-go container. “The cops didn’t flag anything as suspicious. No one saw a young girl being led away. It’ll take me a couple of days to go through them all, compare for discrepancies. Honestly, it’s going to be a nightmare of busywork. I know that’s what us interns are here for, but the kidnapper picked the worst possible day.”
“Actually, the kidnapper picked the perfect day.” Madeline sipped her coffee, still wound too tight to stomach any food, despite the tempting aromas in the air. “We’re going to be stretched thin with a mountain of statements to comb through. I bet most of them will be meaningless. Tracking down anything useful will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
David sighed. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”
“You won’t be alone.” Nick clasped his shoulder. “I’ll be digging in the weeds right along with you.” He turned to everyone else. “Forensics is dusting the drone I shot down for prints, but I wouldn’t hold my breath that they’ll find anything. I jotted down the model number and looked it up. It’s commercial. A popular brand called ABC Icarus. According to the specs, the drone’s max speed is fifty miles per hour, and it can fly for up to thirty minutes. Whoever was operating it was within a twenty-five-mile radius.”
Madeline perked in her seat at the small nugget of useful information. “That means Emma wasn’t far when the building exploded. The kidnapper wouldn’t have a chance to drive her out
of state and return in time to maintain a visual of the Duwamish site once the ransom demand was sent. The child might’ve even been in the metropolitan area. Definitely within a thirty-to-forty-five-minute drive. Hopefully, she’s still close by.”
“What were the fire department’s preliminary findings about the bomb?” Miguel asked.
“Another drone was used to deliver what appears to be a homemade explosive device along with an accelerant,” Nick said. “The drone entered through the ventilation shaft on the roof. They also found soiled cat litter in the air vent, which they believe triggered the carbon monoxide alarm.”
“That would explain the strange smell the employees mentioned,” Madeline added. “Since the kidnapper used drones to trigger the alarms, deliver the bomb and monitor the situation, how did the text message originate from the building?”
“The text was traced to the vicinity of the Duwamish site,” Dash said. “Not necessarily the building. The cell phone was detected within a small radius of three different cell towers. The area where each tower overlapped is where it was pinpointed. The person could’ve sent the text half a block away from the building without ever needing to go inside.” His brows drew together as if he was thinking of something. “Traffic cam footage around ETC didn’t turn up anything viable, but we might have better luck around the Duwamish site.” Dash made himself a note.
“We have statements from the employees there,” Madeline said. Each one of them seemed heartbroken over the loss of their project. All their hard work on a prototype down the drain. “I don’t think any of them were involved.”
“I have to agree,” Nick said. “They were pretty shaken up. Even more rattled when they each learned that Rhodes’s daughter had been kidnapped.”
“Any clarity on the profile of our unsub?” Miguel asked her.
“After the bombing, I got the feeling that this goes deeper than business.” The unsub’s motives were becoming clearer. This was all about Jackson. “It’s definitely a personal grudge. Someone who not only wants to hurt Jackson but also manipulate him.” But to what ultimate end? She wasn’t so sure this was only about him resigning anymore. “There’s still something about the text messages as the form of communication that bugs me. It’s one-way and doesn’t give Jackson a chance to barter. This person wants Jackson to suffer, yet they haven’t exploited the opportunity to hear him beg over the phone.”
