In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (20 page)

With a gentle squeeze, he released her and slipped through
the door.

Quiet descended in the office, and Rachel sank back into her
chair. She needed to get back to her music class-but she also
needed a couple of minutes to let her nerves settle. Fingering the
cross, she tried to take comfort in Nick's assurance that she was
never alone. A passage from the Scripture reading in yesterday's
service echoed in her mind: "I am with you always, even unto
the end of the world:' It was a nice promise. And one day, if her
faith grew, perhaps it would console her as it did Nick.

But at this moment, she preferred to take comfort in Nick's
parting promise that he intended this unexpected glitch to be
merely a brief detour on the road to a relationship.

And she was determined to let that hope sustain her through
whatever lay ahead.

"I'm happy to go over the case with you in person, but we could
probably have done this by phone and saved you a trip:" Matt
Carson directed his comment to Nick as he set two disposable
cups of coffee on the conference room table in the multi-story
Chicago field office.

Nick turned away from the wall of glass that offered a panoramic view of the darkening skyline. The shadows under his
fellow agent's eyes and fine lines radiating from their corners
suggested he'd been putting in long hours on the O'Neil kidnapping. The frustration of being the lead agent on a high-profile
case that was stagnating had no doubt added more flecks of
white to his liberally salted dark hair.

"There are some rather odd twists to this scenario that I
thought would be better discussed in person" Nick took a seat
at the conference table, where Matt had stacked multiple files
in anticipation of their meeting. Nick added several of his own
to the pile.

"I don't care how odd they are if they help us get a better
handle on this case'

"You might want to reserve judgment on that until you hear
what I've got. But first I'd appreciate a briefing"

The man took a swig of his coffee, pulled one of the files toward him, and opened it. "On January 4, about ten in the morning, Megan O'Neil was snatched while her mother, an organist,
was at church practicing for the Sunday service. Rebecca O'Neil went to the ladies room, someone locked her in, and by the time
the pastor discovered her an hour later after receiving a worried
phone call from her husband when Mrs. O'Neil didn't answer her
cell phone, the abductor and baby were long gone. The church
has no security cameras, and no one in the neighborhood saw
anything suspicious. We canvassed the whole area:'

"What about trace evidence?"

"Nothing inside or out. No suspicious prints, no tire marks,
no fibers. Nada"

"Did the parents check out?"

"Clean as a whistle. The father is a well-respected architect.
In addition to playing the organ at church, the mother teaches
at a dance studio. They've been married five years and have one
other child, Bridget, who's two. No known enemies"

"And no contact from the abductor?"

"Not a word"

"What did the profilers at Quantico have to say?"

"That our abductor is a woman in her thirties or forties who
simply wanted a baby. Her clean escape suggests she's intelligent-but perhaps psychotic. The profiler mentioned delusional
disorder as a possibility. She said people suffering from that
form of psychosis can be very functional in other areas of their
life and often don't exhibit any bizarre or odd behavior except
in relation to their delusion"

Nick tapped the end of his pen on the table, his expression
thoughtful. "Does that mean you're operating on the assumption
the baby is alive and well?"

"Until we prove otherwise. But the behavior of people with
mental illness is very unpredictable. If the baby began to annoy
her, she could have gotten rid of it. Dumped it in a garbage bin.
Stuck it in a freezer. Thrown it in a lake. You know as well as I
do the countless creative ways people can be eliminated"

"Yeah" Nick had seen plenty in his years with the Bureau and on his beat as a street cop. Man's inhumanity to man no longer
had the power to turn his stomach, but he hoped he never got
so immune to cruelty that he took it in stride.

"You're welcome to review all the files" Matt gestured to the
table.

"I'd like to make a quick pass through them, at least. Today,
if that's okay."

"Sure. Stay as late as you like. But first tell me about the doll:"

Nick opened one of the files he'd brought and slid a printout
of the Raggedy Ann doll across the table to Matt. "It's the same
one that's in the photo of Megan O'Neil. The patch on the face
is an exact match. We sent the doll to the lab, but I'm not sure it
will yield any useful information. A woman found it in a Bread
Company parking lot three weeks ago. We don't know how long
it was exposed to the elements"

"Where has it been since she found it?"

Heat crept up Nick's neck. "In the corner of my office"

"You didn't do anything with it?"

"I had no reason to. After we made the connection with the
O'Neil baby, I double-checked the descriptions of her the day
she was abducted to see if I'd missed anything. There was only
a brief mention of a Raggedy Ann doll. Nothing to indicate its
condition or the patch above the eye"

"The mother didn't give us too many details about the doll.
We didn't press her. We assumed it would be discarded immediately. That was our mistake. How did you get it?"

"This is the odd part of the story." Nick braced for the agent's
response, the cardboard cup flexing beneath his fingers as his grip
tightened. "It was brought in by a Rachel Sutton, who found it buried in a pile of melting slush. She said it gave her bad vibes"

The skepticism on the agent's face didn't surprise Nick. But
it rankled him. Nevertheless, he kept his mouth shut.

"That's pretty off the wall:"

"I thought the same thing, until a psychologist offered a reasonable explanation:" Nick filled him in on Emily's theory. "After
that, I shoved the doll in a corner and forgot about it until I saw
the picture of Megan this morning:" He took a sip of coffee.
"The other odd part of this is that Ms. Sutton has been feeling
unsettled and anxious for several weeks. When we pinned her
down this afternoon about the onset of that feeling, it coincides
almost to the minute with the kidnapping"

The other agent's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about
this Rachel Sutton?"

Nick consulted his file, giving Matt the highlights.

"Busy lady," the other agent noted. "Married?"

"No. And no family. She grew up an orphan, in foster care:"

"Stable?"

"Yes. There's no history of any psychological problems:"

"How does she explain these feelings she gets?"

"She can't. She's as puzzled as we are" Nick closed the file.
"I don't believe in ESP, but something strange is going on here.
I keep thinking there's some sort of connection we're missing.
Some piece of the puzzle that's fallen under the table. That's why
I want to review these files"

"Could be a late night" Matt withdrew a business card from
his pocket, scribbled on the back, and handed it to Nick. "If
you stumble onto anything, call me. Anytime. That's my home
number, for insurance:" He rose, stretched, and took Nick's hand
in a firm clasp. "You know, I'm tempted to tell you not to waste
your time. But I've seen more than a few bizarre twists in my
career. And I've learned to follow my gut on hunches. If you think
there might be a clue in all this stuff"-he waved his hand over
the table-"I say go for it. If nothing pans out, the only thing
lost will be a night's sleep. Good luck"

Four hours and five cups of coffee later, Nick wished Matt's
parting wish had paid off. But luck had been elusive. He'd been
through most of the files and was no closer to understanding
Rachel's vibes than he had been before.

Pulling the last file toward him, he flipped through it. More
photos of Megan, and he'd already seen plenty of those. They
weren't going to help.

He was about to close the file and call it a night when a
studio shot caught his eye. It showed the smiling family of four
in holiday attire, meaning it was pretty recent. Perhaps it had
graced their Christmas cards. The mother-Rebecca O'Neilwas holding the newest addition, her features soft with tenderness as she cuddled the infant close.

Nick scrutinized the woman. There was something familiar
about her. Although he'd seen her black and white photo in the
newspaper after the kidnapping, he sensed there was more to
his reaction than that.

Selecting a background file from the stacks on the table, he
checked her stats. Born Rebecca Michelle Pearson in Columbia,
Missouri. Age thirty-five. Mother, homemaker. Father, university
professor. Dual degree in music and education. She'd taught until
the birth of her first child. After that, she'd taken a part-time job
as organist at her church. She also taught a couple of classes at
a local dance studio.

Nothing there to help him.

Nick stifled a yawn and checked his watch. No wonder his
brain wasn't clicking on all cylinders. He'd put in an eventful
fourteen-hour day. It was time to get some food and a good
night's sleep. Tomorrow, when he was fresher, he'd tackle this
puzzle again.

Sooner or later, he'd pin down why Rebecca Pearson O'Neil
seemed familiar. It might turn out to be irrelevant to this case.
But he didn't intend to leave a single stone unturned.

By five-thirty Tuesday morning, after six hours of sleep, Nick
was wide awake. The image of the young mother had haunted
his slumber, but he was no closer to figuring out why she looked
familiar than he had been last night. He had, however, decided
on a next step.

Rummaging through his suit coat, he extracted the card Matt
Carson had given him and punched the man's cell number into
his BlackBerry. The agent answered on the second ring.

"Matt, Nick Bradley. Sorry for the early call, but I'd like to talk
with the O'Neils this morning before I fly back to St. Louis"

"Did you find something last night?"

"Nothing specific. I'm following another hunch. Rebecca
O'Neil reminds me of someone, and I can't put my finger on
who it is. I'm hoping if I see her in person it will click. Any
problem arranging a meeting?"

"No. It would be a good opportunity for me to tell them
about the doll. They've been through hell these past few weeks,
and I hate to raise false hopes. But they need to know about it
sooner or later. I'll set things up with them and pick you up in
an hour"

Fifty-nine minutes later, Nick was waiting in the foyer of the
hotel when Matt pulled up. He stowed his overnight bag in the
backseat and slid in beside the agent.

"The good news is we're early enough to miss rush hour." Matt
pulled away from the hotel and nosed into the already-heavy
traffic. "The bad news is that even though I told Mrs. O'Neil
we've made no significant progress on the case, she assumes our
visit means there's been a new development that could help us
find her daughter. Parents cling to hope in these situations long
after there's any reason to."