In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (33 page)

"We need to keep the K-9 unit on. . " His BlackBerry began
to vibrate, and he pulled it out. "Bradley"

"Nick, it's Rebecca O'Neil:"

"Rebecca." He exchanged a look with Mark. He'd been putting
off this call, hoping to have better news to pass on. "I knew you
were on your way down. I was going to call you at the hotel in
about an hour. I have some-"

"Nick." At her abrupt interruption, he frowned. "Look, I know
this is going to sound weird, but I'm convinced Rachel is in
trouble. I can feel it"

His antennas went up and he motioned for Mark to stick close.
"Tell me about it." He wanted to hear what Rebecca had to say
before her impressions were adulterated by his news.

"For the past four hours or so, I've been very uneasy. Colin thought I might be nervous about the press conference tomorrow, but it's more than that, Nick. And the other thing is, I'm
freezing. I can't stop shivering, and Colin has the heater cranked
all the way up. Wherever Rachel is, she's really cold:' Her words
came out shaky, and she took a deep breath. "Now I know how
Rachel must have felt when she brought you the doll. It sounds
crazy, doesn't it?"

A few weeks ago he would have said yes. He'd always based
his investigative work on facts, not feelings. But he'd learned a
thing or two since then.

"Not anymore. I now have a healthy respect for twin telepathy."
He swallowed, and his grip on the BlackBerry tightened. "Your
feelings are valid, Rebecca. I knew you were already en route or
I would have called sooner. Rachel has been abducted"

He heard her gasp. "I was afraid it was something like that:"
Her words grew muffled as she relayed the news to Colin. "What
happened?"

Nick filled her in. "When will you be here?"

"In less than an hour. Who did this, Nick? Is it Megan's kidnapper?"

"We don't know. And the abductor was too bundled up for
us to make a visual ID. Is there anything else you can tell me
that might help us pinpoint Rachel's location? Like whether
she's inside or outside?"

"No. Just the coldness. Wherever she is, there's no heat. Nick,
it's supposed to get down to single digits tonight!"

He heard the panic in her voice. Felt it in his gut. Did his
best to respond in a calm tone. "I know. We're working as fast
as we can. We hope the press coverage after our statement
will generate some leads. I'll call you with any developments,
okay?"

"Okay. But Nick ... please find her. I don't want to lose the
sister I just discovered" She choked on the last word.

"I don't want to lose her either, Rebecca." His own voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Prayer would be good. And call me if you have any other
feelings, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll be in touch:" He pushed the end button and slipped the
BlackBerry into its holder on his belt.

"What's up?" Mark asked.

"Twin telepathy again. Rebecca knew something had happened to Rachel. And that she's somewhere very cold"

"Anything more specific?"

"No. But if she's exposed to the cold, we need to work fast:"

And hope for a miracle.

Pulling into the driveway of the house Marsha shared with
three other college students, Debra shut off the engine and
checked her watch. Seven-forty-five. She'd told the daycare
worker she'd pick up Danielle by eight, and she was early, thanks
to a heavy foot on the gas pedal. She wanted her baby back in
her arms as soon as possible.

Still, her hours apart from her daughter had been well spent.
Rachel Sutton wouldn't be a threat to her anymore. She'd disappeared off the face of the earth, just as Megan O'Neil had. And
Debra was confident she hadn't made any mistakes this time
with items that could turn up later and cause problems. The
psychic's coat and purse, along with the tarp and the tools, were
in a place no one would ever think to look.

After checking her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror
to confirm nothing was amiss, Debra forced the car door open
against the frigid, blustery wind. She'd have to wrap Danielle up extra well to protect her against the foul weather. Mother Nature
was a fickle thing, wreaking her fury on humans with detached
abandon. Hurricanes, floods, earthquakes ... cold. All of them
could kill. And the blame rested solely on the forces of nature.
On an act of God, as the courts and insurance companies often
referred to it.

Debra quickly traversed the short walkway to the front door
and pressed the bell. She'd hated to ask Marsha to watch Danielle, but she'd had no one else to call on. And she'd needed total
concentration for this afternoon's task.

But now it was time to take her baby home.

"Hi, Ms. Kraus:" Marsha was juggling Danielle on her hip as
she pulled the door open. "We've been waiting for you, haven't
we, sugar?" She touched the baby's nose, eliciting a giggle from
the infant. "Come on in while I put her snowsuit on. It's a cold
one, isn't it?"

Debra took one step in. Two other young women were lounging in a living room filled with eclectic furnishings. Debra stayed
just inside the door. "I can do that:"

"I don't mind" Marsha carried the little girl into the room,
forcing Debra to follow. She set Danielle on the couch and guided
her arms and legs into the one-piece outfit. "Did you finish your
project?"

The question puzzled Debra-until she remembered the excuse she'd given Marsha for needing her babysitting services on
Sunday. An urgent project for a hot case at work that had to be
completed by tomorrow morning.

"Yes. All done."

"Good. It's the pits to have to work on the weekend, isn't it?
But I suppose that will be my lot too, once I get my nursing
degree" She grinned, zipped up the suit, and passed Danielle
to Debra. "I'll see you both tomorrow"

"Thanks for watching Danielle" Debra handed over some
folded bills.

"No problem. I can always use a few extra bucks. Drive safe,
okay?"

With a wave, Debra exited.

"Time to go home, sweetie, she whispered as she curved her
body around the baby to protect her as much as possible from
the wind. "Just me and you. Isn't that nice?"

In response, Danielle gave a soft sigh and snuggled closer.

Debra's heart melted. Anyone could see the two of them belonged together. That this was how it was supposed to be. She'd
known from the day she'd seen Megan's photo and overheard
Rebecca O'Neil talking about the challenges of dealing with two
young children that Danielle was meant to be hers.

For a brief second today, when Rachel Sutton had talked about
God, she'd had a fleeting doubt about her plan to dispose of
the psychic. But it had passed quickly. She'd built a new life for
herself and her baby, and she was entitled to defend that from
threats. It was a mother's prerogative. Rachel shouldn't have
stuck her nose in where it didn't belong. Her decision to take
that doll to the FBI had prompted what followed. She had no
one to blame but herself.

But that was all over now. Debra drew in a slow, calming breath
as she strapped the baby into the car seat. There were no more
dolls to be found. Rachel was out of the picture. There wasn't
anything or anyone who could jeopardize the life she'd created.

She and her baby were safe.

"We have some breaking news on the O'Neil kidnapping:"
The anchorman for the nine o'clock news picked up a piece of
paper while a photo of Megan O'Neil, her mother, and a young
woman at a piano flashed on the screen.

As the man began recounting the connection between the two women and provided details on Rachel's abduction, Allen
moved closer to the TV in his bedroom and sat on the edge of
the bed.

"According to the FBI profiler's evaluation of Megan O'Neil's
kidnapper, the abductor is thought to be a woman in her thirties or forties who simply wanted a baby. She may be intelligent
and functional in most areas of her life but could be suffering
from delusional disorder. The FBI has asked that anyone with
information on tonight's abduction call as soon as possible." The
anchorman recited the number as it flashed across the bottom
of the screen.

Without thinking, Allen grabbed a pen from the nightstand
and jotted the number on a test paper he'd been grading, staring
at it as the anchorman moved on to other stories.

Since reading the Tribune story earlier in the evening, he'd
been unable to get thoughts of the O'Neil baby out of his mind.
While he'd done his best to talk himself out of a possible connection between Debra and the kidnapping, the FBI profiler's
description of the abductor fit his ex-wife. And she was in St.
Louis. With a baby of unknown origin.

It was still a long shot. He knew that. And he'd be bringing all
kinds of grief down on Debra if there was an innocent explanation for the coincidence.

But what if there wasn't?

What if the life of that abducted woman hung in the balance?

Could he live with himself if he remained silent, only to find
out later his hunch had been right and someone had died?

In the end, Allen knew he didn't have a choice.

Praying he wasn't making a huge mistake that would embarrass everyone, he picked up the phone.

"Rebecca, why don't you lie down for a while? You could rest,
even if you can't sleep. The FBI will call if there's any news"

Pacing the hotel room, Rebecca shook her head at Colin's suggestion. "I'm too restless. And too cold:" She had on two sweaters
and still felt chilled. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed Rachel's
number, as she'd been doing every fifteen minutes.

"She's not going to answer, honey."

"How do you know?" Rebecca snapped, then immediately
regretted her sharp response to his gentle comment. "Sorry." She
tucked her hair behind her ear and wrapped her arms around
herself. "I keep thinking maybe, if she's unconscious, she might
come to and answer. It's the only thing I can do, Colin. I know
it's not much, but it's better than sitting around waiting"

"I understand:" He flipped off the news program and patted the
bed. "Come over here. I can at least try to keep you warm"

Crossing the room, Rebecca paused by the crib the hotel had
provided. Bridget was sleeping, her golden ringlets framing her
sweet, innocent face. Rebecca stroked her daughter's smooth,
perfect cheek, her throat tightening with tenderness. Since
Megan's disappearance, Rebecca had hovered and fussed over
Bridget far too much. Even her daughter was growing tired of
it. When this was over, she'd have to remember not to smother
her daughters.

Plural.

Because Megan was coming home.

After adjusting the blanket over Bridget, Rebecca continued
toward the bed, tapping in Rachel's number as she scooted beside
Colin and settled back against the headboard. He put his arm
around her, and she snuggled close. The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

After the fourth ring, voicemail kicked in.