by T. K. Leigh
Agent Long scratched on her pad, but Olivia ignored it, following her gut instead.
“If we’re exchanging pleasantries, what should I call you?”
She could feel Agent Long’s eyes burning through her, but brushed it off. She didn’t want to follow some dumbed-down script. There was no guarantee this man would be true to his word and return Melanie once they paid him the money he demanded. Olivia wanted to try to get as much information from him as possible so the FBI could track him down.
“Oh, Olivia—”
“Mrs. Burnham,” she hissed back. “I didn’t agree that you could call me by my given name, not until I know yours.”
There was a pause on the line and her heart raced, waiting to hear dead air any second. Maybe she should have listened to Agent Long and not been so impulsive.
“Very well then,” he said finally. “You may call me Maleek.”
“Is that what everyone calls you?”
Agent Long placed her pen on her pad, irritated.
“Nice try, Olivia. I will tell you my legal name is Maleek, which is what I would like you to call me.” His voice had an almost sinister quality to it. Mix that with the obvious contempt he had for her, it took everything Olivia had to remain calm.
There was a flurry of activity around her, everyone in the room using all available resources to see if they could find out anything about someone with the first name Maleek.
Olivia looked at Agent Long, unsure of where to steer the conversation now that she had his name. She circled something on the pad and Olivia nodded.
“Okay, Maleek. Like I said, I have the money you requested. Tell me where to go.”
“A little short on patience this evening, aren’t we, Olivia?” he replied smoothly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world…as if he weren’t currently holding her little girl hostage. Her sweet, innocent little Melanie, who still believed reindeer could fly and a fat man could slide down the chimney to leave her presents. Her green-eyed angel, who still called out to her mommy when she wasn’t feeling well. Was she calling out to her now, wondering why she wasn’t rushing to her? Wondering why she had let this complete monster take her?
Her throat grew dry, her entire body tensing. Flashes of her happy, carefree little girl were interspersed with her cries for help, cries that went unanswered. She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling in an increasingly faster and irregular pattern. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. She was blind with anger, outrage, a hatred unlike any she had ever experienced before.
A squeeze on her thigh snapped her out of her rage. She looked to her right, meeting Alexander’s green eyes. He didn’t need to say a single word. In that one look, he told her everything she needed to hear. That she could do this. That she was strong. That he would be at her side until it was over. That he would find who was responsible and make them suffer…
Except Olivia had a feeling she was the one responsible for this.
“No, not short on patience,” she responded, “but you sounded rather anxious on the message you left earlier.”
Maleek sighed. “Well, I do suppose ‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said, ‘to talk of many things. Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, of cabbages, and kings.’”
He paused. Olivia could imagine a smirk on his mysterious face. “‘And why the sea is boiling hot,’” she continued, finishing the stanza. “‘And whether pigs have wings.’”
“Ah, Olivia. You know one of my favorite poems.”
“It’s fitting you quote The Walrus and the Carpenter to me, isn’t it? A twisted tale of a monster who lures a dozen innocent babies away and feels no remorse whatsoever.”
“You know something, Olivia? We’re not so different, you and I.”
“I don’t even know you,” she spat. “But, I can assure you, we couldn’t be more different.”
“You think so, do you? That’s true. You may not know me, but I know you. I’ve been watching you for some time now, Olivia.” His voice was calm, even, collected. An unwanted chill ran through her. She had no idea who this man was or what he looked like, but just from his menacing tone alone, she felt as if he were able to see into her soul. All her pain. All her happiness. All her secrets. He knew it all.
Olivia glanced at Agent Long, not knowing how to respond. She shook her head, indicating she wanted her to stay quiet.
“You believe it’s okay to break the rules for the greater good, just like your husband, who I’m sure is sitting right next to you, having difficulty controlling that famous temper of his.”
Olivia faced Alexander. He gritted a smile at her, encouraging her to keep going, despite the personal attacks.
“Am I right, Olivia?” Maleek asked.
She swallowed hard. “I haven’t broken any rules.” She was confident even a complete stranger could hear the uncertainty in her tone.
“Oh, I find that hard to believe. We all do. Some are bigger than others, having consequences that are hard to imagine. And why do we do that? Why do we stray from social norms and mores?”
Olivia stayed mute at his apparent rhetorical question. Her skin flamed. It felt like the walls of the dining area were closing in on her, every set of eyes focused on her and the conversation she was having with a complete stranger. Her secrets and faults were laid bare for all to see. Every wrong, every mistake, every slip of the tongue were plastered on her face.
“Because we believe in something. In a cause, if you will, Olivia. We believe so strongly in it, we’re willing to break the rules, and even a few laws, to further that cause.”
Her face flushed, heat coursing through her body as her mind reeled. Her lungs tried to fill with the oxygen they needed to function, but no matter how many deep breaths she took, it wouldn’t satisfy them. The room spun around her as she wondered if this man, this complete stranger, knew her secret. When she caught Martin’s gaze from across the room, he gave her a reassuring look.
“What is it you believe in that could possibly justify you taking my daughter?” she asked, praying her voice masked the panic coursing through every inch of her body. She knew this conversation would be analyzed under a microscope by the FBI agents listening in. It was only a matter of time before they put the pieces together.
“Retribution,” he barked in a clipped tone. “Honor. Justice.” There was a pause, then he spoke in a subdued voice again. “I believe there’s someone at your front door. You’ll find what you’re looking for in there, as well as proof I’m not messing around. See you in an hour, Olivia.”
“Wait!” she exclaimed, jumping up. “You didn’t tell me where!”
She listened for a response, but heard only dead air, followed by the doorbell. Everyone snapped their heads toward the entryway, the extravagant chandelier hanging from the high ceiling overhead casting an ominous light below.
Alexander bolted from his chair and darted toward the front door.
“Mr. Burnham, wait!” Agent Moretti called out, chasing after him. “I don’t think—”
“What?!” He spun around, his eyes wild with an emotion that was much more than anger or rage. The look on Alexander’s face was one Olivia had never seen. This was a man at the end of his rope. A man who was done playing games. A man who was ready to go into battle for the ones he loved. “You don’t want me to answer the door to my own house? Well, thank you for your concern, Agent Moretti, but I can handle whatever this is.”
Before Moretti could respond with some half-assed justification to mask his need to always be the one calling the shots, Alexander jumped the few steps up to the entryway landing and pulled open the front door.
Olivia inched toward the foyer, trying to peek beyond the open door at whomever was outside. He wore a navy blue cap, pants, and a matching jacket with the name of a courier service displayed prominently on the chest.
“Sign here,” the man said in a disinterested voice with a heavy Boston accent. His lack of enthusiasm was a marked co
ntrast to the intrigue and nervous energy contained within the four walls of the house.
Alexander closed the front door, then turned to face the crowd that had assembled in the entryway, a square box in his hands.
“It’s for you.” He stared blankly at Olivia. All eyes went to the box he carried as worried thoughts ran through her head, particularly after the events earlier in the day.
“Do not open that,” Agent Moretti ordered, walking toward Alexander, keeping his eyes on the box. “Gibson, go question the courier for any information he may have. I’ll get the bomb squad out here as soon as I can.”
“It’ll be at least twenty minutes before they get here!” Alexander yelled in frustration as Gibson dashed out of the house. “You heard him! She has exactly one hour to get to wherever she needs to make that drop! It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he sent this! It may be a clue as to where Olivia needs to go because he certainly didn’t tell her on the phone. He has no reason to send a bomb, not when he knows Olivia has the money he thinks we owe him! So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to open this. Time is running out.”
“Mr. Burnham, sir…,” Agent Moretti continued, rushing toward Alexander, his arms outreached as if about to wrestle the box from his grasp.
“Now this I’d pay to see,” Martin mused in Olivia’s ear. She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing next to Colleen, her mother in law’s eyes concerned, his formal and serious with a touch of sarcasm. “Ma’am,” he added.
Returning her attention to her husband, Olivia gasped when Alexander drew a three-inch blade out of his pocket with incredible speed just as Moretti was inches from him. Moretti stopped, holding up his hands. Alexander held his gaze, a somewhat mischievous expression on his face, and Olivia began to think he’d snapped from the weight he had been carrying. Then he grinned, sliding the knife under the tape securing the box, everyone holding a collective breath…except for Alexander and Martin. They both knew the chances of this guy sending a box containing some sort of explosive was slim. Olivia tended to agree with them, but there was still a part of her that held on to that fear.
Alexander pulled open the flaps of the box and blinked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What is it?” Moretti asked.
Shaking his head, Alexander’s eyebrows furrowed. He reached into the box and pulled out a stuffed penguin.
Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, covering her quivering chin, as she let out a slight shriek.
“Mrs. Burnham?” Agent Long approached and placed her hand on Olivia’s arm in a show of compassion. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“That penguin…” Olivia swallowed hard. “Melanie…”
“Go on,” she pushed.
“I take Melanie ice skating at the indoor rink in Newton at least once a week.” She looked down at the penguin in Alexander’s hands. “They have one of those claw games. You know, the one where you pay a quarter or something and try to maneuver the claw around to grab the prize you want. That penguin’s been in the machine for weeks now. Weeks! And Melanie’s been trying to grab it since she saw it. It didn’t matter to her that she has a room full of stuffed animals. She wanted the thrill of mastering that claw game.”
“You took her there yesterday, correct?” Agent Moretti asked, pulling his notepad out of his pocket and scribbling in it.
“Yes. In the afternoon.”
“And did she play the game then?”
Olivia nodded. “After she skated. She was with a few of her friends from school and they all tried. I was talking with their moms and…” She trailed off, staring into space.
“What is it? Do you remember something?” Alexander asked, taking a few steps toward her, still holding the penguin.
Olivia grabbed it from him, inwardly laughing to herself. It was such a small thing. Black and white with a yellow beak and orange feet. It had a goofy smile and a silly red bowtie.
“I noticed a man standing off to the side, watching them. As a mother, you’re always on the lookout, sometimes to a fault, for anyone who seems to take an unusual interest in your child. This guy looked normal enough, dark hair, dark eyes, but something about his expression rubbed me the wrong way…until I saw a little boy, probably the same age as Melanie, run up to him and give him a hug.” She shrugged. “I guess I was just a little on edge after hearing about Mischa…” She grew quiet and took a quick breath.
“What? What is it?”
Her eyes raced back and forth as she tried to recall everything about yesterday — the smells, the cold, the crunch of the snow beneath her feet, singing with Melanie in the car as they left the skating rink.
Olivia straightened her spine, snapping her head back to Alexander. “I saw him leave without the boy. He was alone. And…”
“Yes?”
“He was carrying this penguin.”
Chapter Twenty-One
December 19
5:20 PM
THE HOUSE ERUPTED WITH commotion, the noise amplified by the high ceilings in the formal entry. Alexander felt like this was just one giant game of cat and mouse, like this guy, Maleek, was simply trying to distract them from finding and bringing Melanie back home.
“We’ll get a sketch artist down here immediately,” Agent Moretti said, nodding to one of the other agents before turning to Olivia. “Do you think you can describe what he looks like?”
In a daze, she nodded.
“There isn’t time for that!” Alexander roared. “Remember, we have one hour. One! And all he sent was that damn penguin!” He gestured to the stuffed animal in Olivia’s hands, then looked back into the box. A white envelope taped to the bottom caught his eye.
“It’s the ice rink,” Olivia mumbled. “It’s got to be. There’s no other possible explanation. This penguin…” She held it up. “Melanie’s been trying to win this damn thing at the ice rink for weeks now. Part of me thinks he knows that, that he was watching the whole time, but I was so absorbed in my own little world, I didn’t notice him.”
Alexander gave her a reassuring look, letting her know he was in agreement with her, then turned his attention back to the envelope in the box.
“Send the advance team to the rink to see if anything looks suspicious,” Agent Moretti ordered one of his agents. “Anything at all. Be vigilant, but smart. We need to make it appear as if Mrs. Burnham will be alone, so you must blend in.” There was a pause. “What is it?”
Alexander looked up to see Moretti staring at him, his brow furrowed. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
Alexander held up the white envelope, his pulse quickening. Moretti reached for it, but he pulled it away. This was personal, not something he wanted Moretti to see and analyze, then bag into evidence. As much as he didn’t want to open it and confirm his suspicions, he knew he had to.
He slid his finger under the flap, Olivia’s gaze locked with his, and tore the envelope open, pulling out a folded piece of white paper. All eyes were on him, the room silent once more as everyone waited. Pinching his lips together, he unfolded it, every beat of his heart echoing in his ears. No parent should ever have to see what he was looking at.
“What is it?” Olivia’s voice cut through the space.
He closed his eyes, barely able to even say the words. “Proof of life.”
Alexander returned his eyes to the paper, struggling to keep it together as he stared at a photo of Melanie. She wore her pink Snoopy pajamas, her hair in two messy braids, missing her left sock. She held up a newspaper. Looking closer, he saw it was today’s edition of the New York Times. She sat with her back straight, her legs crossed in front of her. To the left of her was that damn penguin.
Alexander studied the background and her surroundings to see if anything stood out to indicate where she may be. A small, boarded up, barred window was directly behind her. It looked cold and dirty, the walls cement. She could have been in any basement anywhere.
“We’re going to get her back,” Agent More
tti said softly over Alexander’s shoulder as he continued to stare blankly at the photo. Was she okay? Was she cold? Was she hungry? Would she ever forgive him for letting this happen to her?
Alexander straightened his back, clearing his throat. “We’re running out of time. What’s the plan?” He faced Moretti, all business once more.
“Everyone has been briefed on what their roles are. Agent Long will get Olivia ready. We’re going to put a wire on her, just in case.”
“In case? In case of what?” Alexander shot back.
“Everything and anything,” Moretti answered calmly, as if this were just another day in the office for him. Then he spun on his heels and headed back into the dining area.
Alexander opened his mouth, his temper rising. Olivia caught his eye and gave him a look of warning. Reluctantly, he bit back his remark, not wanting his ego to stand in the way of getting his daughter back. True, he had advanced training in battlefield tactics, taking the enemy by surprise, hand-to-hand combat, freeing himself from a wide variety of restraints, hot-wiring a car, and high-altitude parachuting, just to name a few. But he wasn’t an expert in civilian kidnapping cases, not like Agent Moretti claimed to be. As much as it pained him, Alexander had to allow him some slack, on a very short leash, to run the investigation.
Olivia grabbed his hand and followed Moretti toward a team of agents assembled around the large dining room table, frantically typing on laptops.
“What are they doing?” Alexander asked, peering over the agents’ shoulders at the computer screens.
“Looking at satellite images of the ice rink,” Moretti answered. “This is a tough situation because the rink is open right now, but he’s specifically demanded there be no police presence. This is certainly a safety risk to everyone there, but if we were to evacuate, he may grow suspicious and leave. We’re not even sure exactly where he’ll be anyway.”
“Yes, we are,” Olivia piped up, glancing over her shoulder. She had her back to everyone as Agent Long taped a wire to her chest.
