“Come down from your high?”
“Can think of some better ways,” Dubs said. “But yes.”
“Max gave me a heads-up about that,” Holt said. “And a pretty clear hands-off message.”
“Like she has any reason to worry,” Dubs said, looking incredulous.
“Don’t think you could handle me?” Holt nodded knowingly.
“Excuse me?” Dubs said, choking a little as she did.
Holt heard Lola groan in the backseat. She could almost feel the eye roll.
“How was this the best option for me to get home?” Lola asked.
“Oh, I could handle you, boss. You don’t scare me,” Dubs said.
She’d clearly found her footing again.
“You know who scares me? Isabelle. Pretty sure neither one of us could handle her if she went super-jealous-crazy.”
“Truth. Although I’m not sure I want to be on the receiving end of angry Max, either.”
The phone rang exactly thirty minutes after Holt had disconnected with Max. She answered and put the call on speaker.
“Boss, we’ve got a problem.”
“Is my family okay?” Panic knotted Holt’s stomach. She pictured Isabelle and George injured or worse and could barely resist the overwhelming urge to fling Dubs from the driver’s seat and take over herself.
“Yes. Shit, sorry, H. Not that kind of problem. Everyone is safe.”
“Jesus. Lead with that next time. Continue.” Holt knew her voice was a little shaky, but she was so relieved, she didn’t care.
“Right. So, the problem is in your email.”
“Do I even want to know what you’re doing in my email?” Holt asked. It felt like she was asking why Max had been pawing through her underwear drawer.
“My job.”
“Of course.” Holt wasn’t sure how Max scrolling through her email was at all part of her job description, but she let her continue.
“You know she could read the president’s email if she wanted to, right?” Dubs said. “It’s better to just give her the passwords to everything, then there’s no challenge and she gets bored and moves on.”
“Please, who says the president’s emails are challenging or not boring?”
“Max, my email?” Holt said. She tried to refocus the conversation. She really hoped Max was kidding and hadn’t been hacking government emails.
“Not boring at all. Well, not the one demanding one hundred thousand dollars in exchange for Isabelle’s father and containing a proof of life video.”
“Hold up,” Lola said. “This is the same guy who supposedly paid that clown in the woods to get in touch with Holt so they could go to hot yoga and grab a coffee? Now someone kidnapped him and wants us to pay them for the pleasure of his safe return?”
“If we take everything at face value, then yes, apparently,” Max said.
“And if I don’t pay?” Holt asked. She didn’t like being this popular, didn’t like the timing of the two events, and really didn’t like that Isabelle’s father had popped back into her life.
“Then your new pen pal starts corresponding with Isabelle and is less polite. If she doesn’t want to talk, then Ellen is next.”
“Is there a timeframe?” Holt asked.
“If there is, they declined to share,” Max said. “That’s weird, right?”
“Yes,” Lola said. “Very. Describe the video.”
“There’s a guy who says he’s Kevin Garvey tied to a chair. It looks like he’s in a warehouse or abandoned building of some sort. Commercial, not residential. He’s holding a newspaper with today’s date on it.”
“What’s his condition?” Lola asked.
“Unkempt and tired, but more or less unharmed. I can’t quite figure the timing of when he would have been snatched.”
“Can’t have been long since he hired Mason and the others to get a message to Holt,” Dubs said.
“Fuck.” Holt needed time to think, but right now her judgment was clouded by anger. She prided herself on remaining calm under almost any circumstance, but when it came to Isabelle, and now her son, emotions clouded her thinking in ways they never had. She and Isabelle had been together long enough that she knew to let the feelings crest. Her clear thinking would return enough for her to protect those that meant the most to her quickly if she just let herself feel the anger and fear so she could move beyond it.
“How much does this guy mean to Isabelle?” Dubs asked.
“I’m here,” Isabelle said, joining the call. “Max filled me in on this new wrinkle. To answer your question, Dubs, he doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. I haven’t had any contact with him in years. He doesn’t know anything about my life, or I didn’t think he did. Ellen never told him he had grandkids, and neither did I. He’s not a nice man and was never a father to me.”
“I wouldn’t have put it so nicely,” Holt said. “Whatever decision we make will be for Isabelle and our family’s safety, not her father’s.”
Holt thought about the man who had beaten Isabelle, breaking bones and terrorizing her as a child. She didn’t care where he was or what his kidnappers were doing to him. In fact, part of her hoped he was suffering. But whoever had sent the email had threatened her family. Just as Mason’s original message had. That had to be taken seriously, whatever quarter it was coming from. She could see multiple paths available to her, but this wasn’t the time or place to make a final decision. She had a team she trusted and relied on. She needed them now.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can. The minute we walk in the door, I want a full team meeting. Max, bring everyone to the office with you. You know Isabelle doesn’t allow business in the house. Babe, if you’re fine with George still going to daycare and then Amy’s, that’s fine with me, but someone stays with them all day. Before I get there, find who sent that email and find her father. We need to end this quickly.”
“On it, boss.” Max disconnected.
“All right, Dubs. Get us home. Sounds like our ladies need us and we have work to do. You said you grabbed us a fast car. Put it to good use.”
Holt looked to the backseat and held Lola’s gaze. Lola looked the way Holt felt, determined, angry, impatient, but calm. They had hours of driving ahead of them. There was no point burning out emotionally before they got back. She nodded to her and closed her eyes. She was tired after the chase earlier and the adrenaline spikes from rescuing Dubs. Isabelle was safe at the moment, and right now the best thing she could do to help her was show up at home ready to get to work. Sleep claimed her quickly.
Chapter Three
Dr. Quinn Golden looked up from her computer for the first time in hours and wondered if she’d be able to get herself to the door when she needed to get to class. She’d completely surrounded herself with unsteady stacks, perilous piles, and one leaning tower of articles. She’d effectively hemmed herself in by her night’s work, and looking back at her computer, she wasn’t sure what she had to show for it. Somehow this grant wasn’t coming together and it was frustrating her no end. She’d been working on it for weeks. She’d helped on other grants before, but that was when she was in grad school, and they weren’t her grants.
Most postdocs didn’t write their own grants until their second year, but she wasn’t most postdocs. She’d always done things on her own schedule. So here she was, barely out of graduate school, trying to write a grant she had no enthusiasm for. She thought about the research she’d spent all night reading. It was the same kind of research she did, and that might be the problem. She reread the program announcement she was answering with this grant application.
Nothing about this feels exciting. Research accomplishments and advancements don’t mean anything if I’m starting out my career building my own scientific straightjacket.
She’d made significant breakthroughs using data from first her undergraduate, graduate, and now postdoc mentors in ways they hadn’t, but now she wasn’t sure she was all that interested in the field of study where she had the most name reco
gnition. But science was concerned with the past, for all the talk of forward thinking and hopes for innovation and discovery. Money only went to those with a track record in a field. If she wanted to make a change, it was going to take a lot of convincing that she was worth the risk. And she would have to know what she wanted to do if it wasn’t her current research program. No wonder I haven’t gotten anything done. She rubbed her face and ran her hands through her hair. She needed to get a haircut; it had grown out and was becoming a little too “crazy scientist.” She didn’t need to give her colleagues one more reason to talk about her behind her back. Competition was fierce among the postdocs, and although some had made friends, she wasn’t part of the in crowd. She knew it was due to the successes she’d had, but the last few months had been exhausting, trying to prove that she was a good person, as well as a good scientist, and worthy of their friendship. It was tiresome and lonely.
“You okay, Dr. Golden?” Jessica, the department secretary, and a very good friend, poked her head into Quinn’s office.
“I’m fine, Jessica. Wait…what time is it? And I told you, call me Quinn, even at work.” It didn’t matter how many times she reminded her, when they were at work, Jessica referred to her formally.
“It’s seven fifteen. You aren’t late for class yet. There’s coffee in the lounge.”
Quinn could’ve kissed her. Jessica was always the first staff member in the building and had caught her sleeping in her office more than once. She seemed to go out of her way to keep Quinn caffeinated, which she appreciated.
“Write any papers last night? Finish that grant? Upload a new TED talk I won’t understand? If you’re going to sleep here every night working, tell me you’re being productive.”
“Don’t play that ‘simple-minded secretary’ thing with me. It might work with some of the others around here, but I’m not buying it for a minute. We’re friends, remember? And I don’t sleep here every night.” Quinn’s argument didn’t hold much fire. She barely remembered she had an apartment.
“Of course we’re friends. That’s why there’s always coffee going when you remember you don’t actually live here. And why when you realize you’re better than this place, you’ll also realize you need a good secretary and your best buddy to come with you. I’m the only one not trying to get something from you, or kill you in your sleep.”
Quinn laughed. “I thought you said you didn’t want anything from me? Besides, I could end up anywhere in the world. Why would you follow me?”
“I like you. There are worse people to work for, and I want out of here.”
Suddenly, Quinn entertained the idea that Jessica was flirting with her. They had a good friendship, but that didn’t mean Jessica couldn’t want more. Quinn was so bad at picking up on the cues that she had no idea if she was reading the situation correctly. She was good at her job and that was about it. There was a reason her longest relationship was with her student loan servicer.
Jessica didn’t seem to have nearly as much trouble at reading her.
“Whoa, Dr. Golden. Should I be insulted that the idea of my flirting with you is causing you that much panic, or flattered that I could cause that much turmoil? I’m not looking for anything from you but what I said. No ulterior motives. If you do spring me from this place, that means there’s a whole new dating pool of ladies just waiting for me. Besides, I’m a bit out of my league with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “It’s already been an eventful morning and I haven’t even been to class yet. But don’t sell yourself short. I might not be the woman for you, but I somehow doubt there’s a league you couldn’t play in.” Quinn envied her. She was always so sure of herself. “Still not looking for the love of your life?”
“Did you not just hear me?” Jessica asked. “Whole new city full of women to get to know? I plan on finding out how many of them can be the love of my night.”
“Romantic,” Quinn said. She wasn’t judging her, just amazed at her confidence and ability to understand what she wanted. She had that with her work, mostly, but was a little more hopeless in her personal life. She’d dated, but hadn’t found anyone that kept her attention long enough to distract her from whatever research she was doing at the time.
“I’ve never gotten any complaints,” Jessica said. “I’m not even going to ask you, since you and that couch in your office seem to have exclusive dating privileges. You should let me take you out sometime, help you meet someone.”
“Don’t look like I could manage on my own?” Quinn asked, amused.
“No offense,” Jessica said. She had the decency to look a little sheepish.
“None taken. If your fantasy escape plan ever comes true, I’ll take you up on it. Deal?” They’d had this conversation before.
“Sure thing,” Jessica said. “Your coffee will have to be to-go now. Don’t want to keep the hooligans waiting.”
“We were hooligans just a few years ago,” Quinn said. The undergraduates she taught were challenging, but she enjoyed her time with them.
“You have a year and a half on me and can round up to thirty. You’re ancient.”
“Oh, is that how it works? I seem to recall a rather important birthday coming up in a few weeks. Important rounding implications. I’ll be sure to let the chair know it needs to be widely celebrated.”
Jessica’s eyes got large. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“But your coffee.”
“Shit, you’re right. I would do just about anything for coffee.”
“Perfect, I have you right where I want you.” Jessica raised her arms triumphantly.
Quinn looked at Jessica skeptically.
“Still not flirting,” Jessica said, holding up her hands defensively. “Just perfecting my skills for our big move and all the ladies waiting for me.”
“The only place I’m moving at the moment,” Quinn said, “is to class.”
Jessica hustled to the coffee machine and came back with a to-go mug and followed her out the door. “Have a good class, Dr. Golden.”
“My name’s Quinn.” She hurried out the door. She knew half her class would roll in late, but she always arrived on time and prepared. Teaching didn’t come easily to her, but she took it seriously. Research was her true love, but she’d fallen in love in a classroom because of a teacher who had clearly loved science. Every day she reminded herself that all she had to do was stand up there and explain to the hooligans, as Jessica called them, the many virtues of science. It practically sold itself.
Yeah, right, simple as that. Must be why you’re so damn nervous for every class.
Chapter Four
Lola had sat in hundreds of briefings, staff meetings, and planning sessions, but she never tired of them. The work they did was, at times, solo, relying on individual instincts, skill, and ability, but they were a team. She liked that and the comfort that came from Holt’s steady leadership. I wonder what kind of leader I’d be if I had a team under me?
“Anytime you’re ready, Max,” Holt said.
Holt sounded annoyed.
“Uh, right. Just a sec, boss. Dubs, move over.”
Lola knew Dubs and Max had missed each other, but Dubs was in Max’s lap, which wasn’t standard for these meetings. Only Isabelle was allowed to sit on any lap she chose.
“Lola,” Holt said. She inclined her head toward the couple.
Lola stood and scooped Dubs off Max’s lap, one arm under each of Dubs’s arms. She dumped her in the empty chair next to Max and returned to her own seat. She tried to hide her amusement at Dubs’s surprised flailing and outraged expression.
“What the hell?” Dubs asked. “Isabelle’s on your lap, H.”
“What’s your point?” Holt’s voice was much too calm.
“Long car ride, you two?” Isabelle asked sweetly, effectively and abruptly defusing the tension threatening to envelop the meeting.
“She has terrible taste in music,” Holt said, almost smiling.
<
br /> “And she’s a damn control freak,” Dubs shot back.
“And I was held hostage by this crap the entire trip back from Michigan. In the backseat of a toy car. Everyone’s got a beef.”
“Anyone want to hear about missing persons and blackmail now that we’re done with the pity party?” Max asked.
“Yes, please, Max, let’s hear what you’ve got. You know how much I enjoy hearing about people threatening me,” Isabelle said.
“No one is going to get near you,” Holt said, wrapping her arms tighter around Isabelle’s waist.
Lola loved the way they loved each other. She’d known Holt most of her life and had never seen her happier. Isabelle had provided something for Holt that Lola desperately wanted—stability, support, unconditional love, acceptance, and peace. She was thankful every day that they’d agreed to adopt George and that they were both part of her life. She couldn’t have given him a quarter of the life he had now.
Since her last girlfriend, Tiffany, had left her in a spectacularly humiliating way, she’d finally realized what lousy instincts she had with women. She was pretty sure Holt and most of the people in her life had been trying to tell her that subtly over the years, but she hadn’t been interested in their opinions. Falling so incredibly short in that department was enough for her to finally get it through her head. She had terrible taste and instincts. She was done with women.
If only her uncertainty in that aspect of her life hadn’t started to bleed over into her professional life as well. The entire episode with Tiffany had rocked her confidence, not just personally. With Holt’s family in danger it was a bad time to be getting a case of the yips. I just need something to get me back on track. Prove to everyone I can handle my business.
Lola turned her attention back to the task at hand. Moose and Jose were still making their way back from Michigan, and Holt’s cousin Danny was working his real job as a Providence cop. The rest of the crew was out and about hunting down leads and bringing in bad guys who had declined their invitations to court. Max started the briefing for the small group that was there.
Data Capture Page 3
