“Did she only contact you on your computer?” Tiffany asked Holden. She held out her hand. “It'd just be easier if you handed me your phone. We could get a warrant, but cooperating is your best bet.”
Massey said something to Leanne Graves, and the teen reluctantly pulled a beat-up red and black phone from his pocket. “Careful,” he cautioned.
“I won't hurt it,” Tiffany promised, “but we need to find Miss Everett.”
“She didn't take her!” Holden protested.
Tiffany's expression didn't change. “Prove it.” At her answer, the boy handed the phone over, his expression glum, but at least he wasn't belligerent.
One of the Feds, a stocky guy with military short dark hair, spoke up then. “I can help.”
“I got it,” Tiffany replied without even looking up from working on both the phone and laptop simultaneously. Brandon had watched her do things like this so often it no longer awed him as it did before. The department was going to continue to lean heavily on her computer expertise even after her commission to detective.
“If you get stuck, let me take a crack,” the Fed replied, and Brandon couldn't help his snort of laughter.
“She won't get stuck,” he said, causing everyone in the room to look at him. “She's that good. Let her work.”
The man looked like he wanted to argue but Agent Kavanaugh sliced a glance at him that shut him down. He was beginning to like the woman—well, as much as he could like a federal agent.
A few minutes went by without any noise except for fingers against keys before Tiffany blew out a long breath. “Got her!”
“Where are we going?” Brandon asked at the same time Agent Kavanaugh asked, “Where to?”
“I've managed to trace the IP address to—get this—Jamieson, Trenton, Parker, and White,” she replied. “I need to access the server there to tell you more.”
He had his phone out and ringing before anyone was able to say much more. Carter would have no problem opening the office no matter the time of night.
“Mzz4tune works at a law firm?” Kavanaugh asked as they made their way to their respective vehicles. “That's just rich.”
He had no choice but to ask, “Why are you really here? For her? For Camryn Everett? Something else entirely?”
“Let's just say it would appear things are more connected than we initially thought.” She tilted her head. “One thing at a time.”
Just when he thought he was beginning to like this woman, she had to remind him how much he hated federal agents and their deliberate vagueness. “This chick has caused trouble elsewhere, and now she might've at the very least facilitated a kidnapping of an heiress, so you're here. Am I close?”
She gave him a half smile. “You are a detective, Mr. Davis.” Without another word, she ducked into her car.
At least he knew his hunch was correct. Now, he hoped whatever Tiffany uncovered at the law office was of some use and would help to save Camryn Everett. The FBI had already swept the nightclub, finding nothing there, despite everyone's high hopes. He checked his watch. She'd been gone nearly six hours. Every minute she was missing was a minute too long.
~*~
“You think it's safe for me to leave, to let you into the office?” Carter wanted to help more than anything else aside from having Cam appear at home, but he didn't want to jeopardize her safety by leaving the house if he was being watched.
“We don't feel you're under surveillance,” Brandon Davis replied. “The area has been canvassed, and unless there are hidden cameras or security that's been tapped, you're safe.”
“I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
Twelve minutes later he and Walker were letting a large contingent of law enforcement into his offices. He pulled Chris Delmonico aside to ask, “Who are the new folks?”
“FBI,” Chris answered. “Agents Randi Kavanaugh and Todd Sloane.”
“Not Missing Persons, though?” Carter asked, hoping Tanner had sent his own people.
Chris shrugged. “Not sure. I know they're Feds, and that's about it.”
“I don't care who finds her, I just need her found.” He adjusted his glasses, ran a hand over his scruffy face and followed his friend into the office. Carter knew he hadn’t been apprised of everything going on, but knew Tiffany Morgan had traced something to a computer here. If it would find Camryn, he'd sacrifice every computer, every stick of furniture, every piece of paper. He had to find Cam.
He stood in the center of the reception area of the firm, unsure what he could do when Tiffany touched his elbow. “Where's the server?”
Scratching his chin, he led the blonde officer to the back room that served as a storage room. “Help yourself.”
“I should be able to tell which workstation was accessed. I assume you know who works at each desk.”
“Of course.”
Tiffany and the FBI agents sat in the small storage room, the latter two dragging chairs in from the conference room to look over Tiffany's shoulder as she worked. The male agent offered to help, but he was ignored every time. After a few minutes, the blonde's head snapped up. “Which computer is listed as CAJ?”
“Mine.”
“Who has access?”
Shit. “I do.” He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. “My assistant, Abby has certain access as well.”
“We need to pick her up. Now.”
Before she'd even finished the last word, the FBI agents were out the door, Davis hot on their heels. She tilted her head at Chris. “I'd like to do a little more looking around here, but I know she's been in contact with Holden Graves.”
“Let's take a look at your office and her desk,” Delmonico half suggested, half ordered.
He led the pair down the hall, pointing out Abby's desk outside his office. “She didn't use her computer much, choosing instead to write all my appointments in a paper planner. It was old-school, but it worked.”
“Let's take a look,” Tiffany said as she sat down. “Password?”
He gave the password to the workstation and Tiffany got to work, making little noises here and there that made him want to know what she'd uncovered. “Anything?”
She shook her head. “Not a thing. Let's go to yours now.”
“She has very limited privileges,” he said as they walked into his large office.
“Yeah, that's not gonna stop this girl. She hid it well, but she's got tricks. I'll tell you more when I can tell you more. Until then,” she sat in his chair this time, “password?”
They repeated the process from before, this time with Tiffany clacking the keys a lot faster and talking to herself in quiet tones. After seven minutes that seemed much longer, she declared, “I know why the FBI wants her.”
“Anything that can help Cam?”
“Nothing overt. I don't think this girl is fixated on you, though.”
He hadn't expected that. “What?”
“A crush, maybe, but this girl was flat out obsessed with Theo.”
Chris moved to her side like lightning. “Say what?”
“See here,” she pointed at two places on the screen, “and here?” She'd indicated two places where Booker Jamieson and Theo Richardson had played golf together in the last few months. “She has these marked especially every time.” She paused. “Unless she had something going with your Dad...”
“Not a chance,” he spat, Walker agreeing from his place in the client's chair.
“Richardson... Jamieson... Any chance you have the notebook she was doodling on?” Chris asked, pulling Carter's focus from being angry at Tiffany for suggesting his father might be unfaithful.
He left his office to root around Abby's desk, locating the little notebook and her paper planner in record time. Chris accepted the two spiral bound books, frown deepening with every page he flipped. “Good thing they're on the way to pick her up.”
“See this?” He indicated several lines of big, loopy lettering on the page. “Your tiny little assistant killed the ma
n she told Holden was their father.”
Heart in his throat, he pushed out, “What? Why?”
“Tiff?” Chris waved a hand at the woman.
“Anger and jealousy are always good bets. If he was her father, that's one reason.” She held up a hand. “One thing at a time. Cam is priority one right now.”
“The club,” he bit out. “Why does everyone want that fucking place?”
“Whatever the reason, it always seems like a good one to the people involved,” Chris offered. “You think she took Camryn?”
“It's the only thing that makes sense.” She paused. “Not that anything has made sense for a long time around here.”
“Why hasn't the FBI called?” He was pacing now, worried as he was for Cam. “Shouldn't they have Abby in custody? Shouldn't they know where Cam is by now?”
“Carter, it's three in the morning, and it's been twenty minutes since they left. They'll call soon.”
“God, I hope so.”
~*~
After walking past plenty of dark houses and nothing else, Camryn found a park with a bench to sit on and regroup. She could knock on a door, but who would answer to a battered and bleeding woman in the middle of the night? She knew she wouldn't open the door, although she'd probably call the police to help. She snorted at her own ignorance. The only way she was getting help was if she asked for it. Shaking off her fatigue, she trudged on, choosing a small split-level with a well-maintained yard and rang the doorbell.
After a few minutes, a curtain flicked before she heard a bolt being thrown. An older gentleman stood with a handgun in one hand, eyeing her through the storm door. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Not even a little bit.” She held out her hands, bleeding and still sporting tape. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I was kidnapped.” She swallowed. “I escaped, but I don't know where I am, and I just want to go home.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
The man opened the door. “Come in then, girl, and let's get you home.”
In for a penny. “Okay. Where are we, anyway?”
“Berkeley Springs.”
“West Virginia?”
He gave her a funny look. “Is there another one?”
She didn't know the answer to that, so chose to remain quiet. “Do you have a phone? I'd love to call my fiancé.” As soon as she'd said it, she realized her mistake. Her would-be rescuer took a long look at her left hand. She prayed he didn't know what a blue diamond looked like and she wouldn't have to explain she was an heiress. She held her breath until he said something else, ready to tell him her ring was a fake.
“I'm sure he's crazy with worry.”
Phew. “I know he is.” Do I remember his phone number? That's what I get for relying on technology. He sat her at the table and handed her a cordless handset. She stared for a second, then dialed the one number she knew by heart.
After one ring, her mother answered. “Cammy, oh my god, is that you? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Hi, mom. I'm in Berkeley Springs.” She paused to wipe tears from her eyes. “I kicked my way out of the trunk of a car, escaped a garage, and now I'm here with,” she turned to the man who had allowed her refuge.
“Phil,” he supplied. “Brees, like the quarterback.
“I'm here with Phil Brees, he let me in his home.”
“In Berkeley Springs, West Virginia?” her mother repeated, she assumed for a phone tap or an officer in the house. “Do you have the address?”
She turned to Phil again, “What's your address?”
He rattled it off, and she repeated it. “Someone is coming for me?” she asked, her voice sounding more than a little whiny in the quiet room.
“If you're safe, you stay where you are.”
She thought she was safe, at least for now. “I'm okay, Mom. I saved myself.” She eyed the man who'd taken her in. “I think.”
“Good. Hang on a couple more hours, baby girl.”
“Tell Carter I love him, and I'll see him soon.” And I'll learn his stupid phone number.
Her mother's chuckle warmed her. “You tell him yourself when you see him.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“You don't know how happy I am to hear from you. Love you, too.”
She turned off the handset and returned the phone to Phil. “Thank you. Not many people would let a random woman in their home in the middle of the night.”
“Bull,” Phil replied. “You're obviously in trouble, girl.”
“Can't deny that.” She stood quickly, and the room started to swim. Holding on to the back of the ladder-back chair, she asked, “Can you point me to the bathroom? And, I know it's a lot to ask, but I'd love a snack. I haven't eaten in hours, and I'm afraid I'm about to pass out on you.”
He was already rummaging through the cupboards when she followed his directions to the tidy bathroom. After finally relieving herself after god knew how many hours, she found hydrogen peroxide, antibiotic ointment and large adhesive bandages in the linen closet and attended to the wound in her hand. It hurt like a bitch but considering she'd cut herself with a garden utensil, it had to be done. Once she was cleaned up and bandaged, she made her way back to the kitchen and found Phil had made her grilled cheese, tomato soup, and a tall glass of sweet tea.
“Too bad I'm already taken, Phil, or you might win me over with this.”
The older man blushed. “My wife always said this was comfort food. She'd be happy you're here.”
“Um...”
He held up his hands. “Not that you were stolen, just that I could help. She always wanted to help. Make a difference.”
“What happened?” she asked, needing to know, but afraid of what he might say.
He took in a long breath before he answered. “My Sally passed with cancer a while back now. She was a teacher, shaping little minds for years until she couldn't anymore. We couldn't have kids ourselves, so she just had hundreds she loved like her own. She was an angel, my Sally.”
She smiled despite the sadness tinging his tone. “She sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She's the reason I opened the door.” He gestured toward her almost empty plate. “You full? Need some more?”
She leaned back in her chair. “I’m fine, but thank you so much, Phil. I'm feeling much better now.” She held out her hand. “I bandaged myself, too, so thank you for that as well.”
“Anything you need, girl.”
A distressing thought occurred. “I hope I haven't put you in danger by taking me in.”
“I'm not worried,” he replied, nodding his head at the handgun on the counter. “I ain't got a problem defending my own, and you, girl, are now my own.”
“If you need to go back to bed, I'll be fine,” she found herself saying. “I hate to make you babysit me until someone comes to get me.”
“Your people are where?”
“Tyler, Virginia. It'll take about two hours for them to get here.”
He checked the clock on the microwave. “So, you should have someone here around, what, five?”
She shrugged. “Sounds about right.”
“Then let's find something to watch on the TV. There's no way I can sleep if you're still in trouble.”
“Thank you, Phil.”
“How do you feel about cooking shows? There's a Good Eats marathon on.”
Alton Brown and his nerdiness about food reminded her of Carter. “Sounds perfect.”
Chapter Fifteen
Carter almost dropped the phone in his hand. Both Tiffany and Chris had already pocketed their own, but Camryn's mother had called him personally instead of letting the police give him the news. Camryn was safe, or as safe as they could assume with a stranger who allowed her into his home at three in the morning.
“Cart?” Walker's voice broke through his thoughts.
“She's in West Virginia. She got free, ran to a random house and is hiding out until someone pick
s her up.”
“So, what are you waiting for?”
Good question. “No clue.” He caught Chris's eye. “I'm going with you.”
His friend's head shook. “Not gonna happen.”
“I'd just follow you anyway. This will be a lot less trouble. I just need to see her. Hold her. Know she's all right.”
“Let him come, Chris,” Tiffany broke in. “How would you feel if it was someone you loved? Gemma, or Mia, or your mom? The FBI is handling Abby, so we need to get our asses in gear and pick her up.”
He tossed his keys to Walker. “Lock up, bro.”
“I've got you covered. Go get your girl.”
~*~
If he wasn't on the way to pick up Camryn, Carter might have jumped out of the moving vehicle more than once. Chris and Tiffany were like a couple of teenagers. He didn't know if they were sleeping together, hated each other, or were soul mates, but he'd never seen Chris take this much needling from anyone, not even Gemma.
“I didn't know you two were that close.”
“It's all thanks to your girlfriend's family and a lot of crazies,” Tiffany answered with a half laugh.
He snorted at that one. Cam's family had had run-ins with more than a few crazy people in the last few years. Still, these two had a strange relationship. “You two ever?”
The blonde laughed again. “Oh, yeah. He's amazing, but not for me.”
“TMI.”
“You asked, counselor.”
“That I did.”
“We're better as friends,” Chris added. “Besides, she thinks I'm looking for a wife.”
He choked on the air he'd just breathed in. “You? No.”
“That's what I said. She thinks otherwise.”
Tired of the discussion, or maybe just not ready to go down that path with the detective, Carter cut the conversation off. “How about we focus on my soon-to-be wife now and yours later?”
Ache For Me (Romantic Suspense) (The Everetts of Tyler Book 4) Page 13
