There were still three missing girls and their days were numbered, if not already up. She sat in Jamie’s living room eating a grape popsicle and staring at her laptop screen.
Wired into the girls’ computers, able to access any one of them from where she sat, she had an idea and wanted to go with it, but didn’t want to live at the police station. Her sister’s home was much more comfortable.
“Hey, whatcha working on?”
Samantha looked up and smiled. Her sister was finally coming out of her shell. Freshly showered, her hair clipped up into a curly blonde pile, a Panthers sweatshirt and jeans, she looked relaxed and . . . happy.
Sam nearly started crying at the sheer joy she felt run through her. “You painted your toes!”
“Just the nails, Sam.” Jamie tossed her head, blonde curls dancing around her heart-shaped face. She gave a throaty laugh. Then chewed her lip. “They look okay, right?”
“Just . . . peachy.” Tongue-in-cheek, she waited for Jamie’s response.
Her sister grabbed the nearest throw pillow and lobbed it at Samantha’s head. Loftily, Jamie told her, “It’s Peachy Sunrise, thank you very much. Now, is Tom coming over or not?”
“He is. He just finished working some case and is on his way.”
“He’s been awfully busy lately.”
“I know. He tracked a kid to Tokyo. The dad took him in the middle of the night four days ago, then logged in on the first computer he found, apparently. Tom was waiting on him, tracked him to Tokyo. A child recovery team is on the way.”
“Tom didn’t have to go?”
“Nope, not this time. He should be here soon.”
Jamie smiled. “I’m going to go throw together some food. You know he’ll want to eat when he gets here.”
Laughter spilled from both of them, and Sam sent up a silent thank-you prayer for the healing her sister was experiencing. Then her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. Connor. Her heart quivered, but she refused to acknowledge that it was due to him being on the other end of the line. “Hello?”
“Hi, Samantha, Connor here.”
“Hey there. How’s your Saturday going?”
“Andrew, Dakota, and I’ve been putting a puzzle together.”
“So what does the final picture look like?”
“Not sure yet. We’ve still got quite a few missing pieces. Are you free to go over some stuff? As part of the task force, we thought we’d keep you in the loop.”
“Absolutely. Why don’t you guys come on over here to my sister’s house? Because of her contract computer work for them, she has FBI clearance. We can discuss the case in front of her. Also, my partner, Tom, is on the way over. He might be able to help us out.”
“Let me see if I can get clearance for him to be in on the loop. We can use all the brains we can get on this case.”
“Great.”
She gave him the directions and hung up, gripping the phone for a solid minute before setting it on the table in front of her.
You’re not interested. He’s a cop.
And he would be here in less than thirty minutes. Sam slapped a hand to her hair and looked down at the baggy sweats and hole-sporting T-shirt.
“Jamie? We’re getting ready to have more company than just Tom! You might want to change into something else.”
Sam trotted to the back guest bedroom where she’d stashed some of her things and pulled out a pair of clean jeans and another T-shirt. One without holes. Then she brushed her hair until it crackled. Eyeing the lip gloss on the dresser, she reminded herself,
You’re not interested, remember? He’s a cop.
Right.
With a huff of disgust, she grabbed the lip gloss, applied it with a jerky hand, then bolted back to the den.
Jamie came out of the kitchen, sandwiches on a small tray and a pitcher of tea undulating in its plastic container. When she spied Sam, she stopped. Lifted a brow.
“Who is he?”
“Shut up.”
Twenty-eight and a half minutes after he’d hung up with Samantha—not that he was counting or anything—Connor pulled into her sister’s drive. Putting the car in park, he opened the door. Andrew and Dakota followed suit.
Samantha answered the door with a smile and a light in her eyes that made Connor’s heart do stuff he didn’t think it remembered how to do. “Hey, come on in. I had an idea I wanted to run by you guys.”
Everyone trooped in, Connor bringing up the rear. Just before he entered the house, the nape of his neck tingled, like someone had just drawn a bead on it. The vest he wore wouldn’t do much good if he got it in the head.
Samantha stood staring at him, waiting for him to enter so she could shut the door. He held up a finger. “I’ll be right back. I want to have a look around.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“Just go on inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Connor—”
“Just . . .” He motioned for her to shut the door. She did and he turned back to scan the neighborhood. Should he let Dakota and Andrew in on his paranoia?
No, he would just take a little walk, seeing what he could see. He’d felt watched just as he’d been about to enter the door. Directly across the street another little cottage-style house sat, peaceful, still, with a neatly manicured lawn. Connor scanned the street, heard the door open behind him. Dakota stepped out, eyes alert, followed by Andrew who had his hand on his gun. Samantha must have said something.
Connor tilted his head to the left. Andrew went that way. Dakota motioned he’d go to the right. Connor walked across the street, panning his gaze from one house to the next, looking for anything, almost expecting to feel a bullet between his shoulder blades.
Nothing except normal Saturday morning activity. The scent of summer clinging, just before surrendering gracefully to the fall. Kids on bicycles, babies in strollers, dogs barking, lawn mowers growling.
Yet Connor couldn’t let go of the feeling that someone had been watching them. Was still watching. Waiting. He wished he had a bulletproof helmet on.
Then he spied the tree house. A wooden structure, well-built and solid, it sat in the right-hand corner of the backyard. He looked back at Jamie’s house. Back at the tree house. A small window cut into the side facing Connor provided a perfect view of Jamie’s front door.
Jogging toward the thing, Connor stopped abruptly when a little boy about five years old opened the door and began climbing down the steps.
“Find anything?” Dakota asked, coming up behind Connor.
“Nope, guess my imagination is working overtime.”
“I don’t put much stock in imagination. You’re a seasoned cop. If you felt something, you felt it.”
“Maybe.” Connor scanned the tree house once again. The door to the main house banged again, and the same little boy, juice box in hand, rushed back toward the steps to climb up them one handed, the drink clutched tightly in the other.
“Maybe not. Maybe my nerves are just strung too tight and I’m letting it get to me.” He shook his head. “Come on, let’s go see if Samantha can help us move forward in this thing. I feel like I’m pedaling backward out of control.”
Dakota pushed his ever-present Stetson back on his head and nodded. “Just don’t take your hands off the brakes.”
“I hope you like apple juice. It’s all my mom had.” The Agent took the proffered drink from the little guy. A cute fellow, he had curly blond hair and friendly green eyes.
Smiling, The Agent wondered what Boss would think about this little boy. Boss would like him, he decided. But wouldn’t want to take him from his mother, not at this age. It was best to take them before they knew they were being taken. Otherwise they just cried a lot.
“I like apple juice. It’s one of my favorites. Thanks.”
“I already had one, so you don’t have to share.”
The Agent almost laughed. Then felt a pang of—what?
Longing?
Remorse?
No, allowing himself to feel those kinds of things would interfere with fulfilling his destiny. What he’d been born to do.
But—something. And that worried him.
His new little friend stared up at him, trust shining, taking gleeful joy in the new adventure that had disrupted his normal routine. “Is that a BB gun?”
What? Oh, he’d forgotten he held it. Looking out the small tree house window, he realized his chance was gone. This little guy had nearly surprised him into a heart attack. The Agent gave a small smile. He’d lost this opportunity so he’d wait for another. No hurry. And he’d enjoyed the banter with the child.
Dismantling the weapon, he slid the rifle into the case and smiled at the boy. “No, do you have a BB gun?”
“No, my big brother does. He’s twelve. He won’t let me touch it. Neither will my mom.”
“If you keep it our little secret, I’ll come back and teach you to shoot.”
“You will?” Awestruck, the green-eyed urchin stared up at The Agent who had just become his new hero.
“Sure. Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook on it. The Agent felt the warmth of the little boy’s hand pressed against his own palm. Again, that pang. Again, he considered how easy it would be to take the boy. What would it be like to be a dad? To have the full responsibility of a young life like this one rest on his shoulders? His heart warmed at the thought. He’d be a good dad, patient, loving, not like—
But no. That wasn’t why he was here. He’d finish his job, follow his orders.
And he knew where the child lived should he change his mind.
The Agent pulled back the curtain covering the small window, saw his target walking back toward the house, giving up on whatever had sparked his interest. He frowned, wondering what he’d done to give himself away. How had the cop known he was being watched?
He told himself not to be stupid.
It was instinct. That survival instinct that came with being a cop. And it was strong.
He’d remember that. Never underestimate your opponent. Always be the strong one. The rich one. Weakness brought on bad things. Never again would he be weak. No, he was the strong one. The smart one. And he had Boss. Boss would never steer him wrong.
It was as simple as that.
Samantha watched from behind the window. When Connor had gone all cop on her, she’d sent in backup—Andrew and Dakota. She’d chosen to stay with Jamie just in case. Now they were returning en masse and she had questions.
Jamie looked afraid, chewing her bottom lip, and Sam prayed this didn’t do irreparable damage to her sister’s amazing progress in healing. Jamie sent her a small smile and a shrug. Relief oozed through Sam. Jamie was handling it.
Connor came through the door, followed by Andrew and Dakota.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“You’ll think I’m crazy, but I felt like we were being watched.”
“Why? By whom?”
“I don’t know.” Connor shook off the events by changing the subject. “Why don’t I introduce everyone?”
“I’m Jamie.”
Sam raised a brow as she realized her sister was staring at Dakota.
And Dakota was staring at Jamie.
“I’m Dakota Richards.” He pushed his Stetson back and held out a hand.
Jamie hesitated, sucked in a deep breath, looked at the outstretched hand . . . and shook it. Samantha nearly fell over. Dakota Richards was the first male Jamie had touched—or allowed to touch her—in ten years. She hadn’t even hugged their dad since the attack.
Connor finished the introductions, seeming not to notice the undercurrents zinging around the room. Jamie managed to drag her gaze from Dakota in order to smile at Andrew and Connor.
But she didn’t shake their hands.
Sam motioned for everyone to have a seat while Jamie disappeared back into the kitchen. Dakota looked like he might follow, but turned on his heel at the last minute and took a seat. Andrew stood beside the window, his gaze on the street beyond.
Samantha asked, “Any word back on the girls’ medical records? The text messages?”
“Not yet.” Connor shook his head at the slowness of the whole process. “Soon, I’m hoping. They know this could be a matter of life and death for these girls, so I know they’re making it a priority.”
A knock on the door sounded and Sam went to answer it. “Hey, Tom, come on in. We’re having a regular crime-busters party.”
Tom entered and smiled. “Can I do anything to help?”
“You can stop killing yourself. You have rings around your eyes. What on earth are you working on?”
“That missing kid from Tokyo kept me going through all hours. I’m just glad I didn’t have to hop a plane.”
“Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
He shrugged. “A few hours.”
Samantha ushered him into the den and made another round of introductions.
Connor spoke up. “Oh, I got him clearance to help with the case if he wants. Jamie’s clearance still stands if she wants to help on this.” He looked at Tom. “Your FBI status made that a no-brainer. We can use all the manpower we can get and if you’re willing . . .”
“Sure. Be glad to.” Tom settled on the couch.
Jamie came back into the room and Dakota shot to his feet. “Do you need any help with anything?”
A shy smile curved her full lips. “No, not right now, thanks. I decided to just order some pizzas.”
“Smart woman.” He rubbed his hands together. “All right, guys, we need to come up with a plan of action. Connor asked me to pitch in. So . . . the FBI’s resources are at your disposal via me.” He tapped his chest. “And our new buddy, Tom, here.”
Tom piped in, “What do we have so far? Can someone fill me in?”
Connor turned serious. Andrew moved from the window where he’d been keeping an eye on things. Sam watched him and Connor have an entire conversation just with their eyes. Andrew communicated he’d seen nothing to cause alarm. Connor acknowledged that with a nod.
Wow. She tried to think if she’d ever had a connection like that with someone. And couldn’t come up with one person. That saddened her, but she didn’t have time to analyze this newly discovered longing.
Turning to Tom, she filled him in with the abridged version, then said, “We’re waiting for the text messages from the girls’ phones. We should have them any time now.”
“Cool. What else?”
“Samantha’s still working on the computers,” Connor said. “She thinks she may have gotten everything off of them, but unfortunately there wasn’t much to get. We’ve got several people checking the school computers and all the libraries within a thirty-mile radius. It’s going to take forever, but we don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”