by TL Schaefer
I closed the laptop. Screw the drugs. I was going to kick this on my own. If that meant Doc Summers had to put me back under and tweak with my sensitivity meter a bit, then so be it. Or maybe I’d investigate holistic sleep remedies. Anything but the drugs.
A strange sort of triumph filled me, like drinking from a cool spring on a hot day. I'd beat this, using the tools I had and my own contrariness. It'd served me well long before this little life twist had been thrown my way, and it'd serve me well today.
I MET WITH SUMMERS alone this time, more comfortable than I’d been in what felt like an eternity. I explained my mini-epiphany, and he seemed to agree, but asked that I keep the meds as a fallback position, just in case the other methods didn’t work. Since he used tactical language I could relate to, and the expression on his face said he understood more than I thought, I agreed.
He put me back in the light trance, not regressing me this time, instead exploring what I’d experienced since the first time I’d crossed the threshold of CASI’s door.
As he questioned, and I spoke, it became clear that the building itself might not have been the catalyst but being around Sara and Burke and the Talented in general had acted as a prod to my own latent abilities.
Every time I’d been out of control, feeling as if I was going to explode, or implode, it’d been after I touched someone, as if I was siphoning their emotions into myself.
We suspected the nightmares were my internal pressure relief from the input I’d taken during the day. Where I hadn’t necessarily touched someone but been close enough to pick up on their feelings.
The fact I could only remember the one I’d experienced, in the flesh, was likely a defense mechanism against scenarios and emotions I wouldn’t be able to explain to myself in the clear light of day.
It all made sense.
I thought of the way those unremembered dreams had made me feel and shuddered to think what I’d picked up from the people around me. The nightmares they were actually living in, just like my experience in the bullpen that fateful day.
When we were done, I told him what had happened with Elizabeth and Lawrence back in Dallas, and how I never felt anything from Tori, or only a slight frost from Farrell.
Summers leaned back in his chair, his forehead scrunched. “I know for a fact that Farrell isn’t a Null, like Roney,” he said.
I nodded. When this all started, Sara had explained that Brian was someone who didn’t give off an aura, and it stood to reason that he’d be the same with the drift of emotions that I felt from everyone else. Farrell, however, surprised me. If anyone was a Null, I’d expect it to be him.
“Actually, it makes sense, then,” I said. “I feel a slight coolness from him, just like you get from his expression.”
A part of me I couldn’t seem to shut off wondered what Heath would “feel” like when the beast rode him. I shivered a bit inside. I’d seen Farrell in monster mode when his kids were put in danger and it wasn’t something I wanted to see repeated. Unless, of course, it was in defense of my child.
Or that’s what I kept telling myself.
At the end of our session, dusk was beginning to fall, that crystal clear twilight that signaled spring was finally beginning to flip winter the bird, even here in Colorado.
The children were all gathered in the library. I gave them a wide berth, heading out to one of the deep, roomy porches for a few moments alone. I settled into an Adirondack chair and took what seemed like my first deep breath of the day.
And what a day it had been. I was emotionally exhausted and strangely charged at the same time. It seemed like weeks since I’d seen Tori, when in reality it had only been two days. The emptiness inside me that called for my child was tempered only by the fact that I knew, somewhere deep inside, that we’d find her, and that she’d be healthy and whole. That all of my worrying had been justified, but also for naught.
Finally being able to put a name and reason behind the feelings that had ricocheted through me for decades cemented that hopefulness.
My solitude was broken by a young girl, maybe eleven, all arms and legs, with a mouth full of braces. She seemed surprised to see me, and I wondered if I'd intruded on her private space. Then a shy smile tipped her mouth. "Hello."
Her voice was quite possibly the sweetest one I'd ever heard, the polar opposite of Tori's usually smarty-pants one, but it still felt like I'd taken a bolt to the heart.
"Hello, honey," I used my gentlest tone. "Have I squatted on your turf?"
The smile stayed, a dim flash of metal in her mouth. "Yeah, but it's okay." She looked down, scuffed a shoe. "You're the cop, right? The empath?"
I sat up as if she'd struck me. "How did you know that?" My words were harsh, accusing, and she flinched.
"Never mind," she mumbled, and turned to go.
"Wait," I said, taking a deep breath. "You just surprised me, that's all. What's your name?"
"Penny," she gave me a quick look again, as if she was afraid to meet my eyes.
Jesus, what had this girl gone through? What was she still going through?
"Yes," I answered her question, my tone about a hundred times milder. "I'm a cop, or at least I was, and we think I'm an empath. How did you know?"
"The kids are talking," she replied, moving a bit closer, like a frightened kitten who wanted a stroke. "I know Asa and Cam, and about what Doctor Summers can do, and Miss Covington is one of our teachers. But you're the first adult we've seen who is like us that's not a part of CASI." She paused, as if afraid to ask something.
"What, sweetie?" Even as I prompted, I wondered who Asa was. The name rang a distinct bell, but with everything else going on, I couldn’t pinpoint why.
"Did you grow up this way? Did you go to a school like this? How can you be a cop and still be an empath? How do you control everything? How do you block all the visions and the feelings out?" The words came out of her in a rush, and I knew then that these kids were far from the confident, take-on-the-world teenagers they portrayed to everyone.
So I invited her to sit in the chair next to mine and as I answered every one of her questions, I felt a little bit freer for it.
MY CONVERSATION WITH Penny drove me back to Summers’ office to discuss how I was going to catch some sleep. Last night I’d collapsed due to sheer terror, overload and exhaustion. I doubted I’d be so lucky tonight.
Even now my senses seemed hyper-sharp, almost like I was back on patrol in Afghanistan.
Which would be fine if I were in someone’s crosshairs right this second, but I wasn’t. I needed sleep so I could be on point when we found Tori.
Didn’t matter that sitting here, doing nothing, while Tori could be anywhere was driving me batshit.
I had to trust that the team had my back.
I had to trust.
And in order to do that without completely losing my mind, I needed to sleep.
Summers regarded me over tented hands that seemed to be his trademark, then pushed a small bottle across the table. I read the label, tried not to laugh.
“CBD oil? You want me to get high?”
He rolled his eyes, and with that motion, all pretense of him being the staid professional went right out the window. He was one of us, and he had my back.
“Monica, we’re in Colorado. If you wanted to get high, it’d be perfectly legal. Having said that, this won’t get you high. I think it’s highly likely it’ll tamp down your anxiety and help you sleep.” He paused and a light came into his eyes. “Without the munchies.”
I almost grinned. If everything in my life hadn’t been so fucked up, I might actually enjoy this little exchange, enjoy getting to know him a bit better, for Arin’s sake, if nothing else.
But because everything in my life was fucked up, I took the oil, promised him I’d give it a try, and headed to bed.
Chapter Seven
WHAT CAME BEFORE...
Grammy is sick, even I can see it, though Mama doesn’t want to talk about it.
> My hands itch, like I should be able to do something to help her, but all she wants is for me to curl up next to her and sing. She said I’ve always had the voice of an angel, and it makes her just a little less sad.
It’s too much for Mama, even though it’s been a few years since Papa died. Grammy’s been here for us, been our only family. Been the thing that keeps me in school even though I know she and Mama need extra money to pay bills.
So at night I sit with her and sing and watch Mama fall apart a little more each day.
Now... Colorado Springs
I slept through the night. Well almost. I was awake by 0600, which was later than most ex-military people woke, but still earlier than most of the world voluntarily got up.
And the best part? No nightmares. No slippage of other people’s feelings.
I wasn’t surprised to see Heath sitting at the table with Sara, Roney and Arin. They looked more beat than I felt, even as surety began to work through me. We were going to find my little girl today. I couldn’t believe anything different.
Summers walked in just behind me, and I gave him a nod. The CBD oil had worked. Helped me sleep through the night without zonking me out like the drugs had. I hoped it wasn’t a one-time deal, but even if it was, I was happy I was on point today, ready to kick ass and take names.
Arin was mumbling something about flight manifests beneath her breath as I poured coffee and sat down at the table.
Today we’d find my baby. We had to.
“Gotcha, you bastards!” Arin’s voice rang with so much triumph, I was surprised she wasn’t dancing a jig. “I found the flight plan,” she explained, her eyes lighting with glee. “We were lucky,” she said. “Texas makes you file plans, even though some states don’t.”
My heart did a hard roll. She’d found Tori? Found my baby?
“Where?” I demanded, relief cascading through me so quickly I felt lightheaded.
"Looks like just up the road," she said, "private field north of Denver, about halfway to Fort Collins. That’s if they completed the flight the way they filed it,” she warned, “but I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Diverting would bring more scrutiny from the FAA.”
And as quickly as my elation had come, it was gone. Could it really be that easy? I suspected there was no way we'd be that fortunate, but hope always springs eternal, right? I snorted. Maybe to an optimist, but I hadn't been one of those in a very long time.
But the nugget she’d planted, the mere possibility we might have found Tori took root and began sending tendrils deep.
"Let me do a bit of research before we saddle up," she said. “Kavenaugh and his crew can do some legwork without giving us away."
I suspected Carter Kavenaugh, the Special Agent in Charge of the Denver Field Office, knew exactly who we were and what we were doing down here in Colorado Springs, weird as that sounded, and would be more than willing to help a fellow agent...and solve a kidnapping.
Contacting Kavanaugh and giving him a head start made sense even as I chafed at her restraint. I wanted to be on the road. Now.
I grabbed my laptop and opened it, ready for any instructions she might give me. I was a PI for God’s sake. I could research with the best of them. Anything to get my daughter back.
The fact we hadn't officially called in the FBI on Tori's disappearance was bound to be a point of contention with someone, but dammit, she was my daughter, and there was no way I was going to let some fumble-fingered field agent screw this up, not when Tori's life might hang in the balance.
Joe and Lawrence joined us a few minutes later. Once we were all armed with caffeine, Arin rolled out the plan.
We’d meet Kavenaugh at the Denver Field Office and give him what we’d found thus far. Arin left it up to me—for now—how much we’d tell the SAIC about the CASI connection.
I could live with that, although Joe didn’t look overly pleased. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to circumvent that agreement, but I’d have to cross that bridge when we came to it.
Everyone but Arin and I had already left the kitchen to grab our gear when my cell rang. I looked down at the display, and something inside me rolled over as I saw that the number was hidden.
I pulled it to my ear, feeling like I was moving underwater. “Foudy,” I said, and something in my tone must have alerted Arin. Her head came up, her eyes narrowed.
“Go to this address on the internet,” a garbled voice instructed, rattling off the address before hanging up. The whole interaction had taken less than five seconds. Not long enough to trace, or even ping, at least not in real time.
I opened a browser, motioning Arin over as I did it, hoping I didn’t fuck up the web address.
This was it. This was what we’d been waiting for without even realizing it. Proof of life. A ransom demand. One more thing for us to help narrow down where they were holding Tori.
I was redirected several times before landing on a page that was zero frills. Simply a photo that chilled my blood.
Tori sat on a bed, her back against the wall, her hands unbound, holding a copy of the Dallas Morning News. The newspaper banner clearly displayed today’s date. She appeared unhurt, although her eyes were dazed, as if she’d been drugged. She still wore the clothes she’d been wearing when she left for school two mornings ago.
Sheer relief warred with abject terror as I looked at my daughter, and a newspaper banner that could easily have been manipulated.
Arin’s curse at my shoulder brought me back to the here and now. “Fuck.”
She whipped out her own phone and sent a text. “They’ll all be here soon,” she promised.
A message scrolled across the screen displaying another website address.
“Screenshot Tori’s picture,” she ordered. “The page might be on a destruction countdown once the image is viewed.”
Sure enough, seconds later her warning was realized as a timer began to run in the bottom corner of the monitor. I grabbed a picture of it, then snapped one with my phone for good measure.
Stomach churning, I did as instructed, thankful she was there, then opened the link provided in a new tab.
A simple black background appeared with yellow lettering stark and foreboding against the darkness.
Wire five million to this account by midnight, Central Time and we’ll release her.
A multidigit account number appeared beneath.
A similar countdown timer began to run again and I quickly grabbed both a screenshot and a photo before the page went completely black.
I felt the weight of the others’ gazes around me and realized they’d silently entered, including Lawrence and Joe.
I shot a panicked look at my phone. It was already seven a.m. How could we ever raise that kind of money in less than a day?
Then Heath laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get the money, Monica. I promise.”
His words from two days ago, when this had all started, filtered through me, taking away some of the fear. Just enough to make me believe. To make me trust. When trust was something so hard-won with me feeling it now was a miracle in itself.
I shuddered and took a deep breath, then turned to face the team.
Arin was back on her phone, her expression forbidding. “I’m sorry, Monica. We can’t wait another minute to bring in Kavanaugh. This is dark web shit, and we have experts who can drill down on it faster than I ever could.”
I nodded, though everything in me still felt frozen. I thought I’d felt fear before. Thought I’d resolved it within myself. But God, this was so much worse.
“They don’t know about the flight manifest,” Heath said quietly. “We know where they are. Let Joe and Lawrence work the money angle while we hunt them down.” His tone was pure ice. And pure promise. He would indeed hunt them down. For Tori. For me.
Thirty minutes later Roney, Farrell, Joe, Arin and I loaded into a SUV that looked about two steps removed from an armored personnel carrier and headed north.
In that ha
lf an hour I’d made a deal with myself. I had to live in the here and now. Couldn’t dwell on the future, or what might be happening to Tori. Because if I went down that road, I’d become paralyzed. And every member of this team needed to be present, not worrying or obsessing over something they couldn’t change until it was right in front of them.
So the box I’d created last night became that much more crowded, and I became that much more zen. Or at least as zen as I could get.
Overnight, Heath had arranged for weapons, so each of us were now in possession of our most comfortable firearm.
The weight of the Glock 19 on my hip should have settled me.
Instead, it felt awkward, a tool that didn’t quite fit in my hand anymore.
I wondered how Heath knew what I’d carried when I’d been with Dallas PD, then decided I didn’t care. No matter how the weapon “felt,” it was solid and familiar and exactly what I needed.
Because when I really thought about it, as much as I’d clashed with Heath Farrell over the years, he’d always had my back.
Sara and Jonah stayed at CASI, safeguarding the children, as did Lawrence, who had taken point on securing the five million dollars. He could easily head north if we needed him, and right now it was too dangerous for a pure civilian to accompany us.
The rest of us, besides Joe, had all been in the shit at one time or another, so I wasn’t too worried about them having my back.
Joe, on the other hand, was a different story.
With the ransom demand, he’d become someone I’d never seen. Gone was the polished shark in a two-thousand-dollar suit. In the here and now, he was a warrior. All he was missing was battle rattle and he'd have been right at home with us downrange, in some Godforsaken forward operating base back in the day.
He still didn’t believe us about CASI, but I didn’t really care. I just needed him to be with us and on the same page if it got ugly.
Over the course of the hour’s drive to the Denver Field Office, we brainstormed.
Once we’d had a chance to digest it, all of us thought the ransom demand was an afterthought. Why had they waited so long? Everything about Tori’s abduction, Joe’s hit-and-run and the incursion at Farrell’s ex’s place had been professional.
