Authors: Aimee Laine
26
“Hey, Sophie?” Stuart asked, his hand in control of the remote. He hadn’t found anything of interest on the television.
“Hmmm …” She mumbled against him.
“You wanna watch anything?”
“No. Whatever you want.” She snuggled in deeper on his lap.
“Okay. I’m gonna leave it here for a minute or two and go double-check locks.”
“Mmm ’K,” she said.
Stuart rose, pulled the blanket up to Sophie’s shoulders, and walked the length of the living room to the foyer. They’d been gone for five minutes, and the house, without the television, let little sound through.
“Front door is locked,” he said.
He moved to the door that led to the deck.
Locked.
He took the stairs to the second level and double-checked Chase, who slept with his butt in the air and covers askew. Stuart smiled at the strange way kids could get comfortable—his sister had been the exact same way.
He walked back down the stairs as his cell began to vibrate with a number he didn’t recognize.
“Stuart,” he said in a sing-song voice as he walked down the stairs.
“Stuart Vance?” a voice asked.
“Yes,” he sang. “Who is speak—”
“This is Shelia McGowan, Wyatt Moreland’s Assistant. Do you know where he is?” She clipped her question in a fashion he recognized, but the worried undertone caught his attention.
Stuart continued down the stairs. “On assignment.”
He held the phone at arm’s length as she continued to speak, the volume of her voice rising to a near shriek and cutting off his words.
“I said … he’s … on … assignment.”
Can the woman not hear how loud she is? If she stopped talking a mile a minute in that anal-retentive way, she might have heard me.
“Stuart.” Sheila took a few breaths. “That meeting tonight was part of the assignment. He was meant to brief the Director, but he never showed.” Her voice hitched. “I tried to get it moved to after, but our Director worried it had gotten too personal. He wanted to make sure Wyatt could handle it.”
“What do you mean he didn’t show? He showed up here at quarter after ten,” Stuart said.
“The meeting was set for six. His car registered in the garage at five thirty, but he never entered the building. At seven, we got a hold of all the security tape and registered visitors. We’ve spent the last two hours checking all the logs—wait … he showed up there?”
“Yeah. If you’re so worried, have you called his cell?”
“Repeatedly. He’s not answering. We had to get Superior-level clearance to break in his files, which took another hour. I found your name there and a Cael Aldridge.”
Damn FBI clearances.
“Give me the code.”
Sheila rattled off a set of numbers which told Stuart she spoke nothing but the truth.
“Then we’re fine, right? He’s been here and gone.”
“Well, whose car did he take, then?” Her tone turned relaxed. “We just need to note it in the files.”
“His car. No … wait … he mumbled something about an FBI issue.”
“No!” Sheila cried in a panicked again. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“No cars have been loaned today, and his is still in the garage!”
• • •
In the confines of the van, within the shadows of the buildings across from the park, James adjusted microphones, and Cael worked to secure wireless transmitters; the preparation routine came with ease. Maggie leaned into the seat back, eyes closed.
When James’s cell vibrated a few times, he answered with simple grace. “James Henry.”
“This is Stuart.”
“Hey, have you—” they started at the same time.
“Go ahead.” James continued to make his changes.
“Have you heard from Wyatt or Charley? Or Lily?”
“No, we expect them any minute.” He cocked the phone against his shoulder so he could continue to work.
“I don’t think they’re going to show,” Stuart said.
“What d’you mean? Wait, let me put you on speaker.” James pressed a button and motioned to Cael who patted Maggie’s legs. “Okay, go ahead.”
Cael turned his attention to the call, and Maggie dropped her feet from the workbench along the side of the van, her nap over.
“Wyatt’s assistant just called me in a panic. He didn’t make his six o’clock meeting. Pulled into the garage on time but never entered the building. He showed up here at ten fifteen and left with Charley and Lily, but that was nearly an hour ago. I’ve called his cell several times, and he hasn’t answered. I tried Charley’s and Lily’s, too. Nothing.”
“They could have hit traffic or something,” Cael said.
“Sheila said his car is still in the garage. Something is wrong.”
“Which one did Charley and Lily get into, then?” James asked.
“I have no idea,” Stuart said. “I didn’t see it, or him, for that matter. He said he texted you, James … right before they left.”
James flipped to the phone’s display. “Nope, no texts.” He laid it back down on the workbench.
“Where are they?” Cael said.
“Would Charley or Lily have gotten into a different car?” Stuart asked.
“If they’d been convinced Wyatt borrowed it. Wait,” Cael said. “What color is Wyatt’s car?”
“Blue,” Maggie said. “It was parked by mine all day.”
“And he’d want a darker car to blend in with the surroundings, right?” James said.
“Yeah,” Stuart said, “but that doesn’t feel right. He wouldn’t have left his car at the office. He also didn’t say he was going to switch. The man is nothing if not meticulous. You saw him fret over every last detail. He would have had that in his plans.”
“He could have changed his mind.” Maggie shrugged.
“He could have, but then he’d have had to go clear to the other side of town to get it. So, I don’t think so,” Stuart said.
“I don’t either,” Cael said.
“Have any of the officers caught up with you guys?” Stuart asked.
“No,” James said. “And that worries me.”
“Me, too,” Cael said. “I thought they were supposed to check in at eleven, but we’ve had no movement whatsoever since we took our spot.”
“It’s eleven fifteen now,” Maggie said. “What if all this was a setup to get us, at least some of us, out of the house? Or to get Wyatt or Charley away from us?” She sat up straighter in her chair.
“Cael? Call Detective Bland. Get his whereabouts,” James said.
Cael turned, phone in hand.
“I think she might be right. If that’s the case, where are they?” Stuart said still on the phone.
“No clue, but we’ve probably just lost an hour and played right into their hands. If they’ve been gone that long, that is,” James said.
Cael closed the lid on his phone, laid it on the table. “Detective Bland isn’t on duty tonight.” Cael’s hands ball into fists. “And there is no known arrangement for officers to be at this location either.”
“Oh, boy,” James said. “None of this makes sense.”
“Yeah, it does,” Maggie said. “Wyatt’s been planning this with him since the beginning, right? Actually, you’ve all done everything with Detective Bland. Haven’t you?” She cocked her head to the side, leaned forward. On one hand, she ticked off her fingers as she elaborated. “Bland was the one on site when you got back from Montreal, right? He was tagged with each phone call, each new piece of information you guys got. He was notified when Chase was found. Like good little chickies, you kept him completely in the loop.”
“She’s right about Bland,” Stuart said. “Could he have been a part of this somehow?”
“I have a theory.” Maggie twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.
“Go ahead.” James waited for her to elaborate.
“I’m all ears,” Stuart said from the phone’s speaker.
Maggie leaned forward and clasped her hands. “What if Wyatt has changed sides? Maybe he needs to get back at Charley?”
The phone jumped with the intensity of Stuart’s response. “Get back at Charley? Are you mad? Wyatt would never do something like that. You don’t know anything about him. He’s honest and dependable—more than any guy I know.”
“But you don’t really, do you? You’ve been out of his life for a number of years? He could have set this whole thing up. Win her over, push her to the edge, then yank it out from under her. She all but did that to him. A little payback, perhaps?”
James sliced the air with his hand, shutting Maggie down. She knew the back story but didn’t have the current issue of Charley and Wyatt magazine like James, Cael and even Stuart did. “It’s that love-does-crazy-stuff thing, but I don’t think Wyatt had anything to do with this. No matter what, I think we need to turn tail and head home. In the meantime, we need to try to reach Charley and Lily—”
“They aren’t answering.” Cael jumped in. “Tried ’em both.”
“And we need to find the house Chase was in,” James said. “It’s across the river—”
“I know the river and the bridge,” Cael said.
“But who knows how many houses it could be?” James said.
“Chase knows,” Maggie said. “And I have another theory.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Stuart hung up.
27
When Wyatt said his cell phone wouldn’t power on, Charley offered him hers, their fingers tickling as she passed it to him. When her phone’s signal died in mid-conversation with Detective Bland, Lily passed hers over.
He slipped them both into his pocket.
When they veered off the main road, Charley turned to him, her brows pulling together. The path to the park took an altogether different route.
“Detour,” he said.
When the car reached and crossed the bridge, Charley’s inner warning bells began to toll, and she pulled her hand from underneath Wyatt’s.
“Cold?”
Charley shivered. “No.” She forced herself not to rub her arms.
As Wyatt turned into the drive of a single-story bungalow on the opposite side of the bridge, she knew she’d been had. Behind her, Lily pressed into the seat back but remained mute.
Two figures stood on the porch as the car slowed to a stop twenty feet from the house.
“Now, ladies.” Wyatt put the car into park. “Don’t run when you get out. Casually step out, walk around the car, and I’ll lead you inside.”
His blue eyes sparkled with life and excitement. She sensed no fear, no worry, not even a hint of concern over the distinct change.
“What’s going on, Wyatt?” Charley asked.
“Change of plans.”
“We don’t—”
“No, you don’t change your plans. Get out.” He pointed to her door. “If you don’t, I’ll signal the two on the stairs to shoot.”
She turned to Lily whose wide eyes held unspoken worries. At the same time, they opened their doors and stepped out. The house really did sit on the water’s edge, with a slight embankment that might offer cover if they could reach it.
“Ah ah ahhhhh.” Wyatt waved a finger at them. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what exactly, Wyatt? We’re supposed to be at a park. We’re supposed to be with James and Cael, Maggie, and Detective Bland. We’ve got fifteen minutes, but now we’ll never make it.” She tried to sound angry, but fear overwhelmed her senses and left her with a tinny, less-than-confident warble.
“Oh, it’ll all be over soon.” He gestured to her to move in front of him.
“What if I just want to go back?” Charley asked as Lily walked up to her side.
“Well, see … we won’t be having that now. Move.”
Charley held her ground at the edge of the car. Lily could run if she held them off. Maybe.
“Guess you’re not going to make this easy.” Wyatt pulled his weapon from his harness and fired a shot into the air.
Charley’s ears rang with the sounds of the bullet as it blew through the chamber before Wyatt pointed the gun at Lily.
“Move now, or I shoot your companion.”
My companion? Why not me?
Charley grabbed Lily’s hand and walked in front of Wyatt. She looked back over her shoulder with every couple of steps until she reached the house. The two on the porch grabbed her arms as she made her way up the short flight and yanked her forward, pulling her off balance and into their control.
“Hey!” Lily grasped for Charley.
Wyatt raised his arm into the sky and crashed with the full force of the butt of his weapon against Lily’s head.
She fell, face first, down the stairs until she slid to a stop.
Charley’s ear-splitting cry pierced the sky before her own vision went dark.
• • •
“Chase.” James whispered over the boy’s sleeping body.
Chase lay across his bed, one hand and a foot draped over the edge, his Superman blanket tucked under his other side. James shook him with a palm on the small of his back.
“Chase, wake up, buddy.” James pulled the covers back from his face. “Chasey. I know it’s late, but we need your help.”
“He’s out for the duration, I’m afraid,” Maggie said from behind James. “Does he always sleep like that?”
“Yes.” James tried again, his gaze on Stuart, who eyed Maggie from the doorway.
“Let’s just pack him in the car, drive to the bridge, and wake him on the way,” Stuart said.
“Still don’t want to hear that other theory?” Maggie smirked at Stuart.
“Cut it out, Maggie. If it were that good, you’d not have been able to keep it to yourself,” James said. “I don’t think we should take him, just find out more about the house.” James rubbed Chase’s back.
“We don’t have a choice but to take him,” Cael said from the end of Chase’s bed. “He’s going to have to direct us, maybe even by way of retracing his escape route through the forest, if he can remember it.”
“We can take two cars, and once we find the house, I can whisk him out,” Stuart said.
“It’s well after midnight, and he’s only a little boy,” Maggie said. “How can he possibly remember and lead us there?”
“He’s a very talented little boy.” James called Chase’s name again.
“You need to wake up mouse-boy?” Sophie said from the door where she’d appeared, unnoticed. She leaned into Stuart.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to—” James started.
She flipped the light on. “Chase!” Sophie called between her hands. “Pancakes!”
Chase’s head popped up. He turned toward James before he hit Cael, moved to Maggie, tilted at Stuart and landed on Sophie. “D’you say pancakes?”
• • •
Charley’s head lolled forward as pain radiated from the back. She pulled herself up as straight as she could, though she had no sense of balance. Her eyelids fluttered as her head fell forward again.
Am I sitting?
“She waking up?” a voice asked.
“No,” a second voice said.
“Why won’t he let us wake her up?” the first asked.
“I don’t know. And we’re not supposed to ask,” the second said. “What about the other one?”
“No idea. Don’t remember her.”
Charley pulled her biceps against her chest wall. Her arms had been tied straight against her body.
Ropes.
She flexed her ankles but couldn’t move them further.
Tied.
She tried to raise her heels, but her thighs wouldn’t budge.
Bound.
The voices came from her left. With a slow, precise, and controlled sway, she let her head fall to the right, peeked under half-closed lids. She moved it back to the center again. A sliver of light streamed from under a door, behind which voices reached her.
She swayed to the left again. The light outlined a body, stretched on a flat surface.
Lily?
Tears formed in her eyes.
If he killed her, I’ll kill him.
“Lily!” Charley whispered through a raw throat.
When Lily didn’t budge, Charley slid her feet back and forth.
Smooth floor.
Her hand touched the chair.
Metal.
She knew the sound of the chair against the floor would alert her captors to her conscious state.
How long have I been here?
“Lily,” Charley whispered again. She bit back the cough before it broke free.
Her room’s companion hadn’t moved.
She swallowed a few more times, relaxed her extremities, toes first, until she’d shrunk enough to slip her feet out of the ties. Charley placed her feet on top of the rope and returned them to their normal state. She repeated the same effort with her chest, and the ropes fell free of her body. Those across her thighs, she untied.
Charley opened her eyes wide and caught the faint rise and fall of Lily’s chest.
She tiptoed to the bed, knelt before it. The light from the door didn’t offer much illumination, but enough to know Lily lay at rest.
As long as she’s breathing, she’ll heal.
The room held no window, but a light she couldn’t turn on or they’d return—she assumed. She sat back in the chair and dropped her head into her hands. She wanted to cry, to wail, to scream, but she knew none of it would do any good. She couldn’t shift to an animal, and she wouldn’t leave Lily to fend for herself or become their sole hostage.
What do I do?
Why did Wyatt do this?
Charley went through the ride to the house.
He took our phones. When he showed up, what was different about him?
She racked her brain for the answer.
Nothing. The car. It wasn’t his, but surely he’s authorized to drive FBI vehicles? I’ve seen one. Where?
Charley pulled at her hair.
He didn’t kiss me. Why? Did he have all this planned? Was it all a ruse from the start? Big house. Big job. He’s got it all. Why? What could he possibly want from me that I haven’t already offered willingly?
Footsteps stopped when they reached her door.
“Is she awake?” Wyatt asked in a voice she knew so well.
“I dunno,” a new voice said.
“Haven’t heard anything in there,” a third voice said.
The same two who asked that very question moments ago.
“Well, let’s see,” Wyatt said.
Charley scrambled her thoughts.
What do I do?
The knob turned, a rusty metal clanged as it disconnected from the door’s frame. Light poured into the room and blinded Charley for a moment. She blinked her eyes as they adjusted.
“So … you are awake,” Wyatt said. “You two are morons.” He pointed to the two outside the room.
“What do you want?” She croaked through a dry and parched throat.
“Just you,” Wyatt said with a grin Charley would classify as Jack Nicholson’s Joker—a mix of evil and shrewd combined with a gloss of happy.
She’d never seen him look so duplicitous. “Let Lily go, and you can do with me whatever you want.” She wished for some saliva so she could spit at him. He’d played her. Plain and simple.
“Now, we can’t have that,” Wyatt said. “We’ve so much to discuss. I have to give you my real thoughts about the last sixteen years.”
“Go to hell,” Charley said.
Wyatt laughed, but the sound didn’t match her memory.
Has he simply gone mad?
“C’mon, Charley. Only non-humans go to hell. The rest of us are forgiven of our sins and walk away unscathed.”
Not in my world, they don’t, and you won’t.
“Cat got your tongue?” Wyatt asked. “Nothing witty to say or apologize for?”
Apologize for? Haven’t I already done that a thousand times over? Is this payback?
“Nothing worth saying to someone who hits women,” she said.
“Get up.” His tone changed—cruel, with a dark resonance and no hint of kindness.
Charley obeyed, stretching her legs. She flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders and shifted her hips—needed to gauge her own strength. She’d clocked him once. He’d likely be prepared for it a second time, but if she had nothing more, she’d use it.
Wyatt motioned her out the door.
Charley looked back at Lily.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Wyatt said.
The two women who’d chatted outside her door were dressed in nothing more than T-shirts and casual jeans. Their faces, though, told her exactly who they were.
Did they even have guns?
The bloom of recognition never enlightened their expressions. Wyatt’s minions only knew her as Mira.
• • •
James worked in the back to prepare additional wiring in case they did find the house. Maggie drove the van with Stuart in the front. Their vehicle followed Cael and Chase in the car ahead of them.
“Wyatt’s Director has three guys on their way. They’ll meet us at the bridge,” Stuart said from the passenger seat.
“The police have a team of three they’ll send,” James said.
And it’s all based on a little boy’s recollection, in reverse
.
With the van’s slow forward movement and incline, they’d reached the bridge and crossed it.
“There.” Stuart pointed through the front windshield at a bank of cars parked on the side of the road. Cael and Chase continued to drive on. Behind the van, the FBI’s cars pulled out one by one, a dark caravan of silence.
James’s cell buzzed with a call from Cael. “Chase says it’s right on the water, down a road. I’m going to turn down here and see what I can find. You guys hang back, and I’ll come get you.”
“Okay.” James relayed the information to Maggie, who pulled off to the side, and to Agent Timms with the FBI.
The cars behind them pulled to a stop. At nearly two in the morning, no one would notice the line of a dozen cars that sat idle.
“Chase has a great memory.” Stuart interrupted the silence.
“He does,” James said. “Here, you guys slip these on.” James handed them each a miniature microphone they would use for communication.
“What other talents might he have?” Stuart broke the new silence that enveloped them.
“Don’t know,” Maggie said. “Do you want to hear my other theory yet?” She pounded her fist against the steering wheel.
“No.” Stuart turned to look out the window.
“It’s a good one,” Maggie chided.
“I don’t care,” Stuart said. “Your other one sucked. I don’t need to hear more idiotic suggestions about—”
James cell vibrated again. He put Cael on speaker.
“We found it,” Cael said. “Take that right. First house on the left, on the third road. We passed it and had to double back to it. Chase is a hundred percent sure. Says he even remembers the frilly butterfly thing on the mailbox.”
“Our boy is a dream come true,” James said.
“He’s just like his dad.” Maggie mumbled into the side window.
“Lights off on the way down,” Cael reminded them. “Can’t spook them.”
James clicked off as Maggie began to inch forward. He speed-dialed agent Timms. “We’re going to need cover, but we’ve got to get in or around the house for reconnaissance first,” James said. “I’m going to pull up the layout once I see the address.”
“Wyatt is one of our best and most trustworthy field agents. There is no way he’d do this,” Timms said.
“I agree.” James clicked off that call only to have Cael’s number show up again on the display.
“Fifty-three forty-one Windmill Lane,” Cael said.
James smiled.