Tonight would mark forty-eight hours missing for Olivia.
Two days of tracking one clue after another, but never seeming to get closer to the answers they needed to bring Olivia home. Laney was frustrated, irritated, antsy to see progress made on the case.
She had sensed some frustration in Grayson, as well. He hadn’t been happy that the kidnapper’s interrogation had been put on hold to treat his hand. Laney was sorry that the interrogation would have to wait, but she couldn’t say she completely regretted the bone-crushing stomp to his hand that had apparently broken two fingers. She didn’t regret cutting him, either. He’d deserved it, and worse, as far as she was concerned. She only hoped that Grayson and Kent would be able to uncover some link between this kidnapping and the others.
One thing was certain. Today’s kidnapper was not the same man who took Olivia.
Kent and Grayson came up the porch stairs, the two FBI agents right behind them. “Laney, if it’s okay with you, we’d like to use your house to have the FBI agents work with Arden and me on reviewing some of the case files that were faxed over this afternoon…the more eyes the better,” Kent said.
“Make yourselves at home,” she responded, gesturing to the front door.
The three other men walked inside.
Grayson stayed put, his gaze on Laney.
“You don’t really think I’m going to leave you out here alone, do you?” he asked.
“I was hoping.”
“Tired of all the people in your house?” He reached for her hand, tugging her to her feet.
“Tired, period.” She would have stepped away, but he pulled her closer, looked straight into her eyes.
“From the search?”
“From everything.”
“Was it hard?” He traced a line from her ear to the corner of her jaw, his hand sliding down and resting on her nape. He kneaded the tense muscles there.
“Stopping the kidnapper?” she asked, her mind more on his touch than on his questions.
“Going back to search and rescue.”
“It was as easy as taking my next breath,” she admitted, and he smiled.
“I thought it would be.”
He opened the door and let her walk inside ahead of him. They followed the sound of voices into the dining room.
Arden was there, Kent and the two FBI agents a few feet away, watching as she systematically stacked documents on the table.
Arden placed the last piece of paper in the pile and finally looked up.
“There. I’ve organized these records by date and placed the original records we received today via fax in front of the records Grayson downloaded from his system. This is how I propose we tackle the review.” She was interrupted by Grayson’s phone.
He glanced at his caller ID and frowned. “Excuse me, everyone. I need to take this call.”
Laney watched him walk away and fought the urge to follow. It still bothered her that she was relying on him so completely, but not as much as it might have a couple of days ago. She realized now it was okay to accept help when needed. And deep down, she knew she would be all right when he was gone. Even though a small part of her would be sad to see him go, she would always be grateful for what he’d done. Not just protecting her, but helping her get back to the person she wanted to be.
She’d taken the first step in moving on. She’d brought herself and Jax out of retirement. Maybe it was time to take the next step and join another search and rescue team here in Maryland. When this was over, she’d have to thank Grayson for helping her remember that some things were worth fighting for.
*
“DeMarco,” Grayson said, pressing the phone to his ear. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have taken the call, but it was Ethan, and Grayson would do anything for his friend.
“Gray, its Ethan. How are things going?”
“We might have something to go on. We stopped a kidnapping today. The perp will be brought in for questioning after he’s released from the hospital.”
“Do you have evidence that he’s connected to the other kidnappings?”
“No.”
“Could be coincidental.”
“You know how rare stranger abductions are, Ethan.”
“I do, but rare doesn’t mean they don’t happen,” Ethan responded, a sharp edge to his voice. That surprised Grayson. In the years he’d known Ethan, he’d never known the man to be short-tempered or impatient.
“Either way, I have to look at every possibility.”
“Right.” Ethan laughed it off, any hint of impatience suddenly gone. “I actually didn’t call to argue. I wanted to let you know it will likely be another day before I can get to the Maryland precinct—Judith’s brother’s in town, and she needs me to hang around and play host. If you can send me records, I can start to go through them for you.”
“We’ve got a group of people comparing the hard copies with the electronic files I’ve been working with for months—I can have someone scan them in and send them to you if you think you’ll have a chance to look at them.”
“I’ll make the time, Gray. Send them my way when you can.”
“Thanks, Ethan, I’ll talk to you soon.” Grayson disconnected, less satisfied with the conversation than he usually was when he spoke to Ethan for some reason he couldn’t quite define.
He shook off the unease, walking back into the dining room and taking a seat next to Laney.
“Great. You’re here,” Arden said. “Ready to work?” She handed him a stack of files. “This is our West Coast file.”
Grayson started skimming the reports. Everything matched up until he reached the fifth page. There he found a name he hadn’t seen before.
Ethan Conrad. Called in for consultation.
That’s what the file said.
Why had Ethan failed to mention the consulting services to Grayson? Could there be a simple explanation? Maybe. But it didn’t seem possible that he’d just forgotten. Even if he had, why was the information in one file and not the other? “Who has the original Boston files, months one and two?” he asked.
“I’ve got them,” Kent said.
“Was any consulting company listed in the reports?”
“Not a company, but a man was mentioned. It was an FBI profiler, I think…here it is, Ethan Conrad.”
Grayson skimmed the page, comparing this entry to the California entry.
Arden looked up at the mention of Ethan’s name, catching Grayson’s eye. “Ethan consulted on both those cases?”
“Yes. And that information was deleted from the doctored files.”
“What about here in Maryland?”
Grayson grabbed the Maryland files, skimming them for Ethan’s name, relieved when he didn’t find it. Perhaps there was a legitimate reason for Ethan’s involvement. “Nothing in Maryland.”
But then, Grayson thought, there was no need to consult here in Maryland. Grayson had discussed the case at length with Ethan after taking over for the agents in Boston at Ethan’s recommendation.
They talked almost daily, about everything. Ethan was a sounding board. A trusted advisor.
Could he also be a callous criminal?
Grayson’s mind raced. He’d known Ethan for years, trusted him like family. There had to be another explanation.
Kent Andrews’s phone rang.
He answered, his gaze focused on Grayson.
He was going to have to share his suspicions with Andrews. He had no choice. He had to run this lead down. If Ethan was innocent, he’d understand.
Andrews’s phone conversation took less than a minute. When it was over, he smiled. “Good news, Grayson. We finally have a jailbird that’s ready to sing.”
“The suspect is talking?”
“Not just talking, singing like a jaybird! He said he was paid five grand to snatch a kid.”
“Who paid him?” Grayson asked.
“A guy he met while incarcerated—David Rallings Jr.”
“So our f
loater paid him to snatch a kid…”
“Yep, and deliver the kid to an access road near Camp Cone.”
“Camp Cone is up there near Glenn Arm, isn’t it?” Laney asked.
Grayson didn’t answer.
He was too busy thinking, reaching a horrible and inevitable conclusion.
He’d spent a lot of summers at Camp Cone. He knew it well. The property was a little wild, a little rugged. He’d hunted squirrel there, hunted turkey, done all the things young boys liked to do.
And he’d done them all with Rick, because the property they spent their summers on, the little cabin where they used to stay, it belonged to Rick’s parents. It belonged to Ethan.
He stood, pushing away from the table with so much force, his chair toppled over.
“Grayson?” Laney stood, touched his arm. “Are you okay?”
“It’s pretty difficult to be okay when you’ve just realized that you’ve been betrayed by one of your most trusted friends.”
“What do you mean?” Kent asked.
“Ethan Conrad owns property near Camp Cone.”
Kent frowned, glancing at the report he still held. “The former FBI profiler? The same one who’s listed as a consultant in these files?”
“He’s not just listed there.” Grayson set his paper down and pointed to the name. “He’s listed here, too. But his name was taken out of the reports when they were tampered with. The hacker didn’t want us to know that he was involved.”
“Anyone else find his name in a report?” Kent asked.
“It’s here,” Laney said quietly.
He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. Didn’t have time to sit around moping. Ethan was one of the most intelligent men he knew, but even intelligent men made mistakes. “There’s a cabin on Ethan’s property, and an outbuilding used for hunting—either of those would be the perfect place to keep a bunch of kids,” he said. “Arden, can you print me out a few topographical maps of the Glen Arm/Camp Cone area? And Kent, we’ll need a search warrant to go on private property.”
“I’ll make some calls.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“A few hours? Maybe a day, tops—if we can convince them it’s necessary.”
“That’s a long time if you’re one of the kids he’s kidnapped.”
“I’ll try to put a rush on it,” Kent assured him.
“Good.” Grayson glanced at the name, felt fury clogging his throat. “Because I suspect we found our leak, and the sooner we plug it, the happier I’ll be.”
NINETEEN
Later that evening, after poring through files with Arden and the FBI agents, Laney retreated to her room, claiming exhaustion.
Earlier, Kent had gone to the precinct to see if he could call in some favors and help expedite a warrant on Ethan’s property. Grayson was trying a different tactic. He’d driven away over an hour ago, determined to convince a reluctant judge to issue a search warrant.
He’d left Laney behind.
Grayson had thought it would be safer.
It would have been. If she’d actually intended to stay there.
Low voices and murmurs of activity carried down the hall to her room. Rose was clanging in the kitchen while the others worked in the dining room. Laney carefully removed the screen from her bedroom window. When she was done, she retrieved her small search-and-rescue day pack from the floor beside her bed, shoved a pilfered topographical map of Camp Cone in it, then turned off the light, dropping the pack out the window to the ground. Grabbing her work cell phone from the charger on the dresser, she shoved it into her cargo pants pocket. The sun had just set below the horizon. The grass was damp from the late afternoon showers.
Laney’s heart raced. Climbing onto the windowsill, she dropped to the grass. The night was quiet. So far, so good.
Laney knew Grayson would not approve of her intent to give her FBI and MPD babysitters the slip.
She also knew that the chance of Grayson getting a warrant on a respected, retired FBI agent based on the circumstantial evidence they’d collected was slim. She’d heard the agents talking about it being a pipe dream that a warrant would be provided in time to rescue the kids.
But Laney understood law enforcement and probable cause. If she and Jax happened to be hiking in the area and came upon something that could point to the children, Grayson would have all the probable cause he needed for an official search.
She was determined to make sure that happened.
Olivia’s life was at stake.
Shrugging the pack onto her back, she whistled twice. She heard the soft pad of Jax’s feet in the yard behind the house before he raced around the corner and sat attentively in front of her. “Good boy,” she whispered. Patting her thigh twice, the signal for heel, she started off at a quick jog. Jax kept pace by her side. Laney ran through the trees, sticking close to the edges of the woods.
She needed to get to Aunt Rose’s house and borrow her car.
Rose kept the keys to her 1974 Hornet hatchback on a peg in the garage. So as long as the keys were there, borrowing the car would be easy. Laney just hoped the Hornet would make the hour-long drive to Camp Cone. As far as she knew, Willow was the first person to drive the car in months, and she’d taken a five-minute drive to the grocery store.
Of course, it was a bit premature to worry about the car breaking down when she first needed to get into the garage. Laney was counting on finding the spare house key in its usual spot—buried in the topsoil under the decorated stone turtle in the back flower bed. Hurrying across the well-manicured back yard, she found the turtle right where she’d expected it to be. Beside her, Jax’s ears perked up, standing at alert. His eyes watched the corner of the house. Someone was coming.
She jumped back into the shadows. There was no time to get the key. The soft sound of footsteps on the grass grew closer. “Laney?” As usual, Aunt Rose’s whisper was scarcely a decibel under a yell.
“Shh!” Laney responded quickly. “Aunt Rose, what are you doing out here?” she hissed.
“Looking for you, of course.” Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out a car key on a small fuzzy dice keychain. “I thought you might need this.”
“How’d you know I was here—and why on earth are you carrying around a key to a car you can’t legally drive?”
Aunt Rose planted her hands on her hips. “First of all, after the last breakin, I didn’t want to leave the key where it could be so easily found—James is a classic, you know?” James, of course, referred to Rose’s car. As Rose told the story, she’d purchased it the summer after her husband Peter died, because they’d watched James Bond together and he’d been fascinated by the aerial flip the car performed in the movie. Thankfully Rose had not yet attempted to duplicate that flip.
“Secondly,” Rose continued, “I heard Gray and Kent talking to those agents, too. I’m not deaf, you know. As soon as I heard that they probably didn’t have enough evidence to get a warrant, I knew exactly what you were going to do.”
Lifting the stone turtle, Rose buried her fingers in the dirt below, coming up with the spare key to the garage. She absently wiped the dirt off on her pants. “Here you go.”
“Does this mean you approve of the plan?” Laney asked, unlocking the garage and opening it.
Rose shook her head and sighed. “I’m not saying it’s the smartest thing to do, mind you, but I know I won’t be able to talk you out of it. You have too much of the Travis blood in you. Much more than your mama ever did, God rest her soul.”
Taking the keys, Laney embraced her aunt. “Thanks, Aunt Rose.”
“Honey, I know you’ve always worried that you might end up like your mother, but even as a girl, your mama was never strong. Not like you.”
Shaking her head vehemently, Laney argued, “I’m not strong, I just try to do what needs to be done.”
“Because you have an inner strength, girl. The grit and moxie your mom never had—that comes from here an
d here.” She pointed to her head then her heart.
“Mom did her best.”
“No doubt, but she married the wrong man.”
“I know, and the sad thing is, I can see how it happened. My father could be a real charmer at times—you just never know what lies underneath.”
“Laney, I think deep down you know that’s not true. Some men are exactly as they seem. For instance, your grandfather—my brother—and my own husband.”
“I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet Uncle Peter.”
“Me, too, but I won’t romanticize him—he was far from perfect. God knows none of us are perfect. But he tried to live God’s plan for his life. That one simple act of faith made him perfect for me. Maybe you’ll find the same to be true with Grayson.”
“Aunt Rose, Grayson and I are just…” What were they? Working together? Friends? At times it seemed she’d known him forever. But really, did she know him at all?
“You can protest all you want, but you can’t deny the attraction. But don’t you think on it now. God’s plan will unfold in its own time.” She gave Laney a quick hug. “Give me two minutes before you start the car. I’ll distract them with my new batch of grandma’s whoopie pies.”
“I love you, Aunt Rose.”
“I know, and I love you, too.”
Opening the car door, Laney motioned Jax inside. “Jax, place.” Tail wagging, he hopped into the car.
Pausing at the entrance of the garage, Aunt Rose looked back over her shoulder. “Be careful, Laney. And leave the lights off until you get to the end of our drive. That’s what I always do.” Grinning, she was gone.
*
Grayson wasn’t happy. He’d just left the judge’s house—without a search warrant for Ethan’s property. Despite the case Grayson had presented, the judge reasoned that Ethan appeared to have been a legitimate paid consultant on the cases, and that those records could have been doctored by anyone to cast the blame on Ethan. Furthermore, Camp Cone was a public park, backing up to several private properties, and since there was no evidence directly linking Ethan to any of the victims or suspects, the probable cause was not there. The judge sympathized but told Grayson he needed to make a stronger case for a warrant to be issued.
Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 Page 57
