In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (28 page)

"Tell me you're kidding:" Dismay flattened her words.

"I wish I was. I'm speculating your friendly reporter saw the
Tribune article, made the connection to the doll, and decided
you were still newsworthy. I don't know if she's been following
you or just decided to pay you a visit and got lucky on her timing,
but she's aware that you, me, and Rebecca met at your house
on Wednesday night. She implied in her piece that the FBI is
pursuing a psychic lead on the O'Neil kidnapping"

"But that's a lie!"

"We're talking about St. Louis Scene here, Rachel:"

She gave a frustrated sigh. "What happens now?"

"We're working on a game plan. Until it's implemented, I'd
suggest you lay low. Stick with `no comment' if the press contacts you'

"What about the people who want me to communicate with
their dead uncle? Or find their missing dog? This will bring a
whole new batch of them out of the woodwork"

"Let your phone roll to the answering machine."

"Trust me, I will:" She huffed out another breath. "You know,
I'm beginning to think this Scene reporter Claudia has psychic
abilities of her own. Or is very, very lucky."

"I agree. But we should have a plan later today to counter
her claim. Will you be home tonight? I could stop by and put
Rebecca on speaker so we can all discuss it"

"I'll be here. But I can think of better ways to spend a Friday
night."

He chuckled. "Me too. And we'll get to those once this is over.
In the meantime, how about I bring over a pizza?"

"That sounds nice and normal. You're on. You know, I'm very
quickly learning that I don't have the temperament for cloakand-dagger stuff. My taste runs to safer things-like art and
teaching and playing the piano. Oh-speaking of taste ... no
olives on the pizza, okay?"

"No olives. Check. I'll call you before I leave the office to let
you know I'm on my way. It could be a little later than usual.
And Rachel ... go straight home, okay?" He reread the headline
in the Scene article, fighting down a feeling of unease.

"Why? Do you think some nut might try to corner me in the
grocery store for a seance?"

"I'd prefer not to take any chances. Just be a little careful until
we implement the plan. You have my cell number ... call me if
you spot anything suspicious"

"Now I know I'm not cut out for cloak-and-dagger stuff." She
tried for a joking tone but didn't pull it off.

"Everything will be fine, Rachel. We've got it under control:"

"Okay." She still sounded shook up. "See you soon"

As the line went dead, Nick wished he felt as confident as he'd
sounded when he'd reassured her. But he'd been in the business a
long time. And he knew even the best-laid plans sometimes went
awry. While he was certain the strategy Ellen and her cohorts
devised would be sound, there were never any guarantees.

If he thought it would do any good to request protection
for Rachel, he'd ask. But the FBI didn't have sufficient staff for
that. No law enforcement agency did. Only VIPs and witnesses merited security, and the U.S. Marshals Service usually handled
that.

All he could do was try his best to keep Rachel safe until the
risk went away.

And until Ellen and her cohorts came up with a plan that
would put to rest the psychic drivel perpetuated by St. Louis
Scene and reassure the kidnapper that Rachel wasn't a threat,
he intended to stick close.

"Hi, Ms. Kraus:" Marsha flipped her long blonde hair over
her shoulder, set aside the newspaper she was reading, and gave
Debra a bright smile. "You're early today. Getting a head start
on the weekend?"

"Yes" In truth, Debra had left work at three on the premise of
a dental appointment. Since her run-in with Warren yesterday,
she'd been feeling jittery. And her nightmare-plagued slumber
hadn't helped. In her dreams, she'd kept waking up to find her
baby's crib empty. She'd finally risen before dawn to sit in the
rocking chair beside her daughter's bed and watch her sleep.
Only that gave her some semblance of peace.

This morning, she'd been tempted to call in sick. But she was
loathe to change her routine or do anything that would attract
attention. She'd worked with enough legal briefs to know that
out-of-pattern behavior was a red flag. So she'd left Danielle at
daycare as usual, even though it had been agony dropping her
off, and gone into work. By mid-afternoon, however, the need
to hold her daughter in her arms had overpowered the need to
maintain a normal schedule.

"Good for you. I wish I could cut out early once in a while
on Friday." Marsha slid off her stool at the front desk. "I'll go get
Danielle. Have a seat for a minute. Oh, and take a look at this while you wait:' She handed over the paper she'd been reading.
"Remember that article we talked about last week? The one
about the psychic? Looks like there was something to it, after
all. Pretty weird, if you ask me:"

As Marsha punched numbers into the security keypad on the
wall behind the desk and disappeared through the door, Debra
read the headline. And almost threw up.

All her conclusions about last week's article had been wrong.

The FBI hadn't written Rachel Sutton off as a nut. The woman
had had specific information. And she'd led them to Rebecca
O'Neil.

Megan's mother.

Hands trembling, Debra scanned the article. It didn't say much
more than the headline. But those few facts were plenty.

Except the reporter had left out one important piece of data.

Megan O'Neil had ceased to exist two months ago, the day
Danielle-her daughter-had taken the other infant's place.

It was too bad for the mother that Megan was gone. Debra
could empathize with her, could understand her sense of loss.
But she had another daughter. Bridget. Why couldn't she be
satisfied with that?

She probably would have been, if it hadn't been for Rachel
Sutton. Debra scowled at the photo of the woman at the piano.
If this Rachel had picked up vibes from the doll, if she'd led the
police to Rebecca, what other information might she discern
now that the women had met and talked? Would she be able
to tune into some wavelength that could lead the authorities to
her and Danielle?

Debra's first instinct was to grab her daughter, get in her car,
and take off. Disappear.

Except ... maybe it wasn't possible to vanish if a psychic was
involved. Maybe this Rachel would be able to pick up vibes no
matter where she and Danielle went.

The contingency plan she'd developed after her encounter
with Warren flashed through her mind. It was a drastic step,
though. Not one she'd expected-or wanted-to take.

But nothing was more important than protecting the life
she'd created for herself and Danielle.

Nothing.

"Here she is, Ms. Kraus." Marsha pulled up the hood on Danielle's snowsuit as she stepped through the door. "We want to
stay warm, don't we, sweetie? The weatherman says we're going
to have a cold, cold weekend. We wouldn't want Jack Frost to
get you, would we?" She tapped the baby's nose, and Danielle
giggled as Marsha shifted her into Debra's waiting arms. "Here
you go, Mommy. Such a cutie. She must be lots of fun"

"Yes, she is"

And that wasn't going to change.

Debra headed toward her car, shielding her baby from the
gusty, frigid air. After settling Danielle in her car seat, Debra
handed her the teddy bear her daughter had come to love. A
replacement for the doll that had caused far too many problems.

She should have listened to her instincts and gotten rid of the
Raggedy Ann in Chicago, tears or no tears from her daughter.
But she couldn't change the past. All she could do was protect
her future.

By getting rid of something else instead.

Three hours later, Nick took a seat at a right angle to Rachel and
set his BlackBerry on her dining room table. "Rebecca? I'm here
with Rachel. You're on speaker"

"Hi, Rachel:" Rebecca's voice came over the line. "Did you
guys eat your pizza yet?"

Nick arched an eyebrow at Rachel.

"I talked to her after I talked to you," Rachel whispered, then
raised her voice. "Not yet, Rebecca. We thought we'd get the
business stuff out of the way first"

"Then let's get started. Nick, Colin's here with me, like you
asked"

"Good" Nick folded his hands on the table. "The St. Louis
and Chicago offices have worked together to come up with a
plan we hope will generate some renewed interest in the case.
But it all depends on how willing you and Rachel are to share
personal information with the media"

"What kind of information?" Rachel asked.

"The discovery that you're identical twins. Your thirty-five
year separation. And how the doll led you to each other"

"I'm willing to do anything that will help us find Megan,"
Rebecca responded. "But I don't see how going public with the
twin thing would do that."

"According to our media relations experts, this kind of story
has great human interest value and will get wide play. It will
remind people of the case, and perhaps encourage anyone who has new information to come forward. As Matt Carson has told
you, we've exhausted all our leads. We need to generate some
new information. Plus, we feel it's important to publicly counter
the psychic claims made by St. Louis Scene."

"Do you think anyone believes those?" The skeptical question
came from Colin.

"Most people won't. And if the coverage was confined to
that tabloid, we wouldn't be too concerned. But today's story
generated local media queries, and we expect interest to ripple.
We need to quash any speculation on that score" He looked at
Rachel. He hated to alarm her, but forewarned was forearmed.
"For safety reasons"

She stared back at him as Rebecca spoke. Her sister's words
were slow and deliberate. "You're worried the kidnapper might
consider Rachel a threat" It was a comment, not a question, and
the concern in her voice matched that on Rachel's face.

"It's possible. Kidnappers aren't always the most rational
people."

Rachel folded her hands into a tight knot on the table but
remained silent.

"Then we need to go public with our story. Set the media
straight on why Rachel had the feelings she did. Let them focus
on the twin telepathy thing rather than the psychic detective
angle, Rebecca declared.

"I agree, Colin added.

"Rachel?" Nick reached over and covered her cold hands with
his.

"I'll vote with the majority."

"So what's the plan?" Colin asked.

"A press conference Monday morning, with everyone in attendance. We'd like this to hit the Tuesday papers. That's often
a slow news day, and we could get front-page coverage in a lot
of cities. We'd prefer to do it here, because this is where the doll was found and that's our most recent lead. Can you manage
that, Rebecca?"

"I'll take Monday off and we'll drive down late Sunday afternoon," Colin replied.

"Rachel, can you get the morning off ?" Nick asked.

"Yes. I'll work it out"

"Okay. We'll have a briefing at our office at eight-thirty, hold
the press conference at ten. Our SAC will handle the formal
remarks, then we'll open it to questions. We can go over talking
points in our pre-press conference meeting:"

"Does this kind of thing usually generate leads that help?"

Nick heard the glimmer of hope in Rebecca's question and
tried to be honest without raising false expectations. "It can.
Sometimes all it takes to solve a case is one strong lead"

"That's good to know" Rebecca stopped, cleared her throat.
"Now go eat your pizza. We've already had dinner. And be careful, Rach."

"I will. See you Monday."

The line went dead, and Nick released Rachel's hands to turn
off the speaker. As he moved his suit jacket aside to slip the
BlackBerry into its holder, Rachel's gaze dropped to the Glock
on his belt.