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Line Of Sight
Rachel Caine


Mills & Boon Silhouette
After three Athena Academy students are kidnapped, FBI special agent Katie Rush is first on the scene. The Athena grad will stop at nothing to make sure the girls are returned safely–even if it means working with a psychic.This unconventional relationship is not ideal for a by-the-book agent, but Katie can't dismiss his dead-on revelations. Now in a race against time, with young girls' lives on the line, Katie must do something she's never attempted: Put her trust in a handsome stranger.







From: Delphi@oracle.org

To: C_Evans@athena.edu

Re: FBI, Katie Rush

Christine,

Thank you for the update on the recent kidnappings at Athena Academy. I know you and your Athena Force won’t rest until you’ve safely returned the girls to their families. I have just the person for quickly finding your missing students: FBI agent Katie Rush.

Failure is not an option for Agent Rush, and she’s got the experience to bring down the abductors discreetly, with few—if any—casualties. She’s the woman you want for the job.

You most likely have her contact info, since she’s a friend of your local police lieutenant, Kayla Ryan. Knowing you, you’ve probably already put her on the case. If you need her cell number, or if there is anything else I can do to assist in this tragedy, let me know.

D.


Dear Reader,

Being asked to write for the exciting universe of Athena Force has been a great honor, as well as a great opportunity. This wonderful, popular series has a rich and colorful landscape of international settings, diverse characters and amazing stories. It has been challenging and rewarding to be a part of the Athena Force team.

I hope you enjoy Line of Sight—book one in the new Athena Force adventure—as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Best wishes,

Rachel Caine





Line of Sight











Rachel Caine







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




RACHEL CAINE


is the author of two previous novels for Silhouette Bombshell: Devil’s Bargain and Devil’s Due. She also currently has six novels in her popular Weather Warden series: Ill Wind, Heat Stroke, Chill Factor, Windfall, Firestorm and the soon-to-be-released Thin Air. In addition she has a bestselling young adult series, The Morganville Vampires, with two novels currently available: Glass Houses and The Dead Girls’ Dance. The third book, Midnight Alley, will be released in August 2007.

Visit her Web site at www.rachelcaine.com.


To the fierce, fabulous authors, editors and readers

of the Bombshell line, and especially to

Natashya Wilson, for her faith and support.

What an honor to be part of the family!




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14




Chapter 1


Until she chose to die, Katie Rush wasn’t completely sure she had the guts. Sure, she’d considered it, she’d trained for it, but in the end there was always a doubt: Did she have what it took to trade her life for someone else’s?

In that chaotic, oddly crystalline moment, it was very simple. She saw the gunman, she was out of rounds and there was a civilian being targeted. The calculations rose effortlessly in her brain: Given the angle of incidence, there was a seventy-five percent chance that the shooter would go for center mass, the safe shot. His ammunition wasn’t armor-piercing. Of course, there were still decent odds that he’d choose the head shot instead, which was an almost certain kill at this distance.

It didn’t even require a conscious decision. Her body just moved. She took a stunning blow to her chest, an impact that knocked her off balance and drove the breath from her lungs. She used the force in her favor, letting her weight fall against the boy who’d been in the line of fire and pushing him behind a parked car to safety.

“Agent down!” she heard someone yell, probably Special Agent in Charge Craig Evangelista; he was the one with the best vantage point of her position. She tried to take a breath but it was driven out of her by a second impact right over her solar plexus. Panic tried to smother her, but she grimly held on to her training, rolling on her side toward cover and ejecting the spent magazine of her Beretta as she did. Her right hand fumbled for the spares clipped to her belt and yanked one free, slapped it home with a precision built of hours of dry-fire drills, and completed her roll into a shooter’s prone position, elbows braced. She acquired the target in a matter of a microsecond—which was good, because he had already acquired her again—and got off the first shot.

One was all she needed. She ignored the odds and went for the head shot.

The boy lying next to her was wailing and shaking. Katie felt calm, which she expected was the inevitable adrenaline shock as much as any real self-possession. She scanned the landscape for additional threats as the rest of the team swarmed in to apprehend any kidnappers who’d survived the firefight. There had been four of them—a large crew, unusually so for such a risky crime—and they’d been more than willing to go out in a blaze of glory. Katie could only see one man alive and responding to the agents’ shouts and commands. It wasn’t the one she’d shot. He wouldn’t be moving on his own again.

She slowly got to her knees. The pain hadn’t yet registered, but she had no doubt that later tonight her body was going to hurt like hell. She’d never taken a round before, but she’d seen the deeply colored bruises on other agents who had. Bulletproof vests saved lives. There was no promise that they’d do it painlessly.

At least she could breathe again, though not deeply enough to speak. She put her arm around the boy— Samuel Kaltoff, thirteen-year-old son of a prominent Russian politician—and tried to smile reassuringly. The kid was a mess, but then, he’d been through a hellish ordeal. Three days in the hands of captors who’d shown no signs of humanity or compassion. We could have gotten him back faster, Katie thought miserably. Samuel’s dirty-pale skin showed so much bruising it looked as if he’d been tie-dyed, and that was only a hint of what had been done to him. We should have had him yesterday. Katie knew that logically they’d pushed the investigation as fast and as far as it was possible to do, but at moments like this, looking at the human wreckage left behind when law and chaos crashed, she never felt that it was enough.

The paramedics, who’d had to wait for the all-clear signal, suddenly dashed in. One peeled off toward her, but she waved him toward Samuel. Nothing they could do for bruises, and if that hot, glassy feeling in her side was a cracked rib, well, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Katie,” said SAC Evangelista. He holstered his weapon as he approached and wiped sweat from his forehead—it was a hot day, and the vests and FBI jackets weren’t exactly summer-weight. He crouched down beside her, examining her with clinical thoroughness. He was middle-aged, on the heavy side of fit, with a bullet-bald head and big brown eyes that could look warm and sympathetic when he chose. It wasn’t necessary with her. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry, sir, but I didn’t see any alternative.”

He waved that away. “Not how I would have handled it, but you got the right result. Understand, the only reason we’re having this conversation now, and I’m not going to be writing the condolence letter to your folks tonight, is that you were lucky. The government has invested a hell of a lot in your training, Agent Rush. Letting some Russian mob moron shoot you ain’t exactly the return on investment they’re looking for.”

“Live and fight another day,” she said. “I know, Craig. Thanks. Believe me, I won’t make a habit out of it.”

“Good. Now, you go to the hospital, get checked out. Once you’re green lighted, you can come back to the office and start paperwork.” He hesitated, then looked away. “You saved that kid’s life, Katie. One hell of a good day.”

From Evangelista, that was effusive praise. He put his heavy, warm hand on her shoulder for one very short second before rising and striding off to oversee the mop-up.

This time, when the paramedics moved toward her, she didn’t object. She was starting to ache now, and tremble with reaction. Being poked and prodded would give her time to get herself together again.



Katie was watching two equally heartwarming events— Samuel Kaltoff’s weeping parents embracing him, and the sole surviving kidnapper getting handcuffed to a gurney—when her cell phone rang. She grabbed it from her jacket pocket before the paramedics took it away from her. “Hey, could you wait a second while I answer this?”

The paramedic undressing her shook his head and tugged open the Velcro straps of the vest. The sudden rush of air on her sweat-soaked skin was like being doused in cool water. He pulled the heavy armor over her head and set it aside. Katie ignored him as he lifted up the damp fabric of her shirt and probed the bruising beneath.

She flipped open the cell phone. “Rush,” she said, a simple declaration of name as well as an instruction. She expected it would be a call from the field office asking for details, but instead she glanced at the number and saw that it was from out of state.

Arizona.

“Katie?” A young girl’s voice. It sounded high and uneven. “Katie, it’s Jazz. I need help. We need help!”

Jazz? Katie’s mind froze for a second, then smoothly shifted gears. Jazz was Kayla Ryan’s daughter. The voice had sounded unlike her, but now Katie recognized that it was probably due to stress. “Yes, I’m here. What’s wrong, honey?” As far as Katie knew, Jazz was at the safest place on earth—at the Athena Academy, a secluded campus just outside of Glendale, Arizona. “Jazz, is your mother all right?”

There was a brief sound of shuffling, and then Kayla’s no-nonsense voice said, “I’m right here. We’ve got a situation here, and I don’t think the local resources are enough to handle it. We need you, Katie.” Kayla was a cop, a good one, besides being a fellow Athena graduate and friend. Not a close friend, exactly—Katie didn’t seem to attract many of those—but more of a sister. Athena alumni were all sisters. It was an implicit responsibility they all took very seriously. They’d suffered losses these past few years that had hurt them all. At least Jazz was safe. That was something.

“What happened?”

“I’ll let Jazz tell you.”

Another handoff, and Jazz’s higher voice came back on the line. “It’s Teal and Lena—Teal Arnett and Lena Poole. They’re at the Academy with me. They’re my friends. They were taken.”

“Taken,” Katie repeated. Her fingers tightened on the phone, and she forced them to relax. She’d seen the tragic aftermath of too many stories that began just this way, but none of them had involved girls from the Athena Academy—her own very extended family. If all of the Athena Force women were sisters, then all the girls at the Academy were nieces. “How did it happen?”

The very slight hesitation before Jazz answered raised a red flag in Katie’s mind. Need to get her away from her mother and get the full story, she thought. Even though Kayla was a cop, and Athena Force, that didn’t mean mothers and daughters should or could share everything. Daughters had secrets, and in cases like this, secrets cost lives. “We were going to the movies,” Jazz said. “Off the school grounds, in town. But they were waiting for us, I don’t know how. It was a coordinated attack. Teal and Lena gave me time to get away, they told me to run. I didn’t want to leave them, I swear I didn’t!”

“I know you didn’t. Jazz, tell me what you saw. Exactly what you saw.”

Jazz took a deep breath. “We were walking on the sidewalk, talking, and a van pulled up to the curb ahead of us. It was a blue cargo van, and the license plates were muddy. I couldn’t see any letters or numbers. There was dark tinting on the windows. I think it was a Ford van, probably about eight years old. Oh, and there was a fresh scratch on the passenger side, like somebody had keyed it in a parking lot.”

Katie raised a commanding finger to the paramedic to back off when he tried to speak to her. He did, finally taking the look in her eyes seriously. “And?”

“The side door slid open, and two men jumped out. They were both tall, but one was bigger than the other one—I think they were about six feet and six feet four inches.”

“What did they look like?”

“I couldn’t tell,” Jazz said unhappily. “They were wearing these mesh masks and bodysuits. I guess that was to keep from leaving trace evidence. They didn’t say anything at all, and they were really fast and strong. Lena almost got away, but they caught her.”

Sometime during Jazz’s recital, Katie had closed her eyes, painting the picture in her mind. A cloudless Arizona day, clear and sunny. The van pulling to a smooth stop at the curb so as not to alarm the girls into flight. A blitz attack, scientifically calculated. Two abductors, plus a third to drive the van. They’d cut their losses once they’d realized they’d lost the initiative and Jazz was beyond their control…. More impulsive predators would have gone after her, allowed Teal and Lena space to act. Instead, these men had disengaged to minimize their exposure.

Dangerously competent. And the fact that they’d succeeded at all meant that they’d known what they’d be dealing with.

“Tell me about the girls,” she said. “Teal and Lena.”

“Teal’s the oldest, she’s seventeen. She’s really fast—the fastest runner in the school. She looks a little bit like you in the face, and she’s tall, too—she has lighter hair, and her eyes are more green.” Jazz took a breath. “Lena’s fifteen. You can’t miss her. She’s got purple streaks in her hair, it’s cut all different lengths, you know? She was wearing a purple skirt and a hot-pink top.” Jazz’s voice wavered. “They’re my friends, Katie. Really my friends. I should have stayed with them. I let them down.”

Jazz was small, but she was a dynamo, like her mother. Self-possessed. A fiercer friend Katie couldn’t imagine. Jazz was someone who wouldn’t take failure easily in a situation like this. Athena Academy instilled that quality in those who hadn’t come in the doors gifted with it, but in Jazz tenacity was a purely natural talent.

“Jazz, it’s going to be all right. We’re going to find them. Now, put your mom on the line, will you?” Jazz did. Katie dropped the warm-and-fuzzy from her voice. “I’m heading for the airport now,” she said and slid off of the tail end of the ambulance. “I’ll take a cab to the crime scene. What are the cross streets?”

Kayla gave them to her, relief evident in her voice. “Thanks for agreeing to help. I know you’re the best at this, Katie, and I have the feeling we need to find these girls quickly. This wasn’t random. No way was it random.”

Kayla was being careful, not saying things that they were both thinking.

“Did they have enhancements?” Katie asked. She would have asked straight out, psychic abilities, but Kayla knew what she meant, knew exactly what made many of the girls fostered by the Athena Academy special. She and Kayla were included in that number, most definitely, although Katie herself had tried her best to downplay it throughout her career.

Kayla confirmed her worst fears. “Yes. Definitely…enhanced abilities.”

“What about Teal and Lena’s parents? Has somebody talked to them?”

“We’re handling notifications through the school. I’ve already talked to Ms. Evans.” Christine Evans, the principal of the Athena Academy—as tough as they came, even by Katie’s admittedly high standards. So tough, cops and FBI agents still automatically called her Ms. Evans years after graduation. “I’ll book you a seat on the first available flight. I’ll wait for you at the scene.”

“Soon as I can,” Katie promised, and was about to hang up when she hesitated. “Kayla? Is Jazz okay? Physically?”

“As far as I can tell.” Her friend’s voice was tight. “I want to take her to the hospital. Just to be sure.”

It was what Katie would have advised, but she was glad she didn’t have to. Kayla had enough on her mind.

“Do that. I’m on my way,” she promised and flipped the phone closed.

The paramedic, frowning, rushed into the silence. “Agent, you can’t go anywhere before those ribs are X-rayed,” he said. “They might be broken.”

“They’re not broken,” she said and pulled on her jacket after tucking the FBI identification flap back into its Velcro pocket. “You got forms for me to sign? Because you have one minute to get them in front of me before I’m gone.”

She didn’t wait for him; he could damn well catch up. She strode off, looking for Evangelista, and found him talking with two other agents. They all nodded to her.

“I need a minute,” she said. Evangelista gave the other two a crisp dismissal and turned to her with his full attention. “Two girls have been abducted in Phoenix. One other girl got away, she’s the kid of a friend of mine. I need some personal time, okay? E-mail the paperwork to my Web account. I’ll get it completed tonight.”

“Katie, you sure that’s a good idea? You took a couple of hard hits. Paramedics released you?”

“Sure.” She lied like the professional she was. “Good to go?”

“Can I stop you?” He shrugged. “I’ll need you to make yourself available tomorrow sometime for a recorded statement. If you need me to make a call to the Phoenix field office, let me know.”

He extended his hand. She shook it briskly, not letting the pain in her ribs show. “No heroics, Rush,” he reminded her.

“No, sir. No heroics.”

That was it. He turned away and was immediately lost in the wash of detail and documentation that was the bane of every investigator’s existence.

“Sign here,” said the paramedic, appearing at her shoulder with a metal clipboard and pen. He pointed to a line, and she scribbled her name. “Agent, seriously, get yourself checked out wherever you’re going. Those ribs don’t look good.”

“I’m fine,” she said, and remembered to smile at him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My job.” He nodded. No smile back. She supposed she was screwing up his ability to do his work. It occurred to her, a little late, that he was pretty cute—her type, too, with big dark eyes and nice shoulders. Ah well. She didn’t have time for romance, anyway. She never did.

She retrieved her car, parked three blocks away, and drove to the airport without stopping for anything.




Chapter 2


The girl leaning over the table was wearing the tiniest orange bikini he’d ever seen. Stefan was a connoisseur of bikinis—some people watched birds or butterflies; he watched girls in outrageously small scraps of fabric. Today was a spectacular day for it, in fact—a cloudless deep-blue sky, a cool ocean breeze, a bright summer sun. Venice Beach at its finest, and the girls were in full bloom.

Life, he reflected, was very good to him. A great profession, a great place to live, stimulation of all kinds. Yeah, not bad. Not bad at all.

He didn’t look at the deck of cards he was shuffling, just smiled at the girl in the orange bikini and the other girls crowded around his table. An invisibly fast motion of his little finger, and a card slid out of the deck he was manipulating and spun across the smooth marble surface of the café table toward the orange bikini. The girl squealed in excitement, grabbed the card and held it up for the admiring oohs and aahs of her friends. Four friends, to be exact, and every one a sculpted marvel. Not natural, of course. Venice Beach had more girls with breast implants than it did grains of sand on the beach, or at least it seemed that way these days. Not that Stefan minded, really. Nature was wonderful, but the human race had always been inclined to decorate.

And these girls…well, they were very, very decorative.

He gave them a charming smile, and they all smiled back, crowding closer. His hands were still moving on their own, shuffling, fanning, dazzling. It was a nervous habit now, something he did without even thinking about it. Illusion wasn’t his main source of income, but it was his passion, and it kept him on the streets, where he belonged.

“Oh my God, that’s amazing!” the girl in the orange bikini—Heather?—said, and showed him the queen of hearts he’d flipped her. “Stefan, do it again! Please?”

“Put it back in the deck. Anywhere.” He didn’t look, and his hands never stopped. She slid the card in, and he did the trick again, faster this time. The cool slap of the cards on his fingers was soothing. Relaxing. It was a kind of meditation for him, card tricks, and of course, it got the girls to lean closer. That was never a bad thing.

When the queen of hearts spun out this time, flipping in midair to land faceup, they all squealed. He followed it with the rest of the suit, in order, never looking down. It was his own trick, invented on long, lonely nights when he hadn’t felt like company. He didn’t sleep much, never had. He’d been up at dawn this morning, down on the beach with a cup of Starbucks’ finest, watching the sun gild the waves in rolling gold.

“Wow,” Heather breathed and looked up, delight shining in her eyes. That was what he loved about magic…. It really did magical things, even if it was only illusion. It made people feel a sense of wonder, and that could never be underestimated. “Stefan, you are amazing!”

He winked at her. “Better save your praise. We just met. I could get better, you know.”

They all laughed, breathless and excited. He couldn’t understand what his attraction was for women; he couldn’t really see it when he looked in the mirror. He was a collection of flaws: not tall enough, a little broad in the shoulders, gypsy-dark skin at least three shades off the golden glow that Californians seemed to crave. His hair curled, and he’d given up styling it; it just cascaded wild and black around his face and down past his collar. His nose was too large, his eyes so dark brown they looked black. No, he was hardly the California ideal, and he was overdressed for the nearly naked dress code of Venice Beach in loose low-slung jeans and a roomy black cotton shirt over a red sleeveless undershirt.

And yet, he was surrounded by girls so hot that he was surprised the wooden floor didn’t catch fire around them. Ah well. His cross to bear, he supposed.

Heather slid onto the bench beside him, and a girl in a blue thong bikini slipped in on the other side. “Ladies,” he said. “Are you trying to distract me? Or learn my secrets? I promise, there’s nothing up my sleeves.”

Heather leaned over, and her tongue touched his earlobe, a gentle wet caress that made him pause in his shuffling and close his eyes to control a deep, satisfying shudder. Oh, yes. He liked Venice Beach. “How about here?” she asked, and her hand moved on his leg under the table.

“Naughty,” he said, and actually jumped when the girl on his other side moved, too. “Okay, that’s—naughtier.”

They giggled. Stefan started shuffling again, fumbling one or two cards, trying to think how to get himself out of this gracefully. Or at least how to retain as much of his mystery and dignity as possible while succumbing. After all, if it was beyond his control, who could blame him….

Over one of the girls’ bronzed shoulders a TV was soundlessly playing on a twenty-four-hour news channel. He fixed on it, trying to take his mind off the girls while still enjoying what they were doing, and read the text crawling at the bottom of the screen. BREAKING NEWS, it read. DUAL ABDUCTION IN PHOENIX…

It hit him in a rush of light and color and sickening sensation. Cold. Cold metal floor. Vibrations. Light leaking in through tinted, curtained windows. Fingers going numb, tied too tight. Sharp pain in bound ankles. Knees, too. Wet gag in his mouth, on the verge of choking him. No way to spit it out. The cool, gritty feeling of tear tracks on his face. Grim anger and fear, a trace of panic held down with difficulty.

A girl was lying across from him on the van floor, similarly bound, her purple-streaked blond hair falling over her face but not quite concealing her frantic eyes. There was a bruise on her face, dark even in the dimness.

Two men sat on benches, one on each side. Couldn’t make out their features in the darkness. One was smoking, the stink of it filling the van and making it even harder to breathe around the gag….

He jerked back into himself, gasping, and dropped the cards. A strange sound sawed at his ears, and after a couple of seconds he realized it was the girls, giggling. He was still in the coffee shop, in Venice Beach. He was safe. His heart was racing, his palms sweating, and he couldn’t get away from the feeling of fear and foreboding and claustrophobia in the vision.

He stood up, gathered the cards and jammed them into his pocket. “Sorry,” he said, and pushed through the crowd of girls to achieve the open air outside. He stood there, breathing deeply, trying to slow his pulse. Blue sky, warm sun, pounding surf. Laughing people. Weight lifters on the beach, displaying their oiled muscles and as much skin as legally possible. Skating, scantily clad girls. Jugglers. Sidewalk artists. Musicians. Normal life, by the community standards. Stefan stood there shaking, struggling to put himself back in his own body. He was unable to forget the bleak terror the girl was feeling.

DUAL ABDUCTION IN PHOENIX.

They were in a van, and they were in terrible danger.

He needed to tell someone.

He sat down on a bench facing the ocean and dialed his cell phone slowly, thinking hard about what to do. In the end, he did what he always did.

He called home.

“It’s about time,” his mother said. No hello because she already knew it was him—she always knew. “Are you all right, Stefan? I had a dream.”

“Did you?” He closed his eyes and smiled. “What about?”

“You, obviously. You were somewhere dark, and you were in danger. Where are you, my dear?”

“Not in the dark,” he said. “And not in danger. I think you had an echo of what I just had, Mom.”

“Ah. Vision?” She was businesslike about it, but then, she would be: it was her business. Rose Blackman, psychic to the stars and Hollywood nobility. A genuine talent. She’d taught him all about showmanship, too. “Tell me about it, peanut.”

“Mom, please don’t call me that.”

“Just tell me.”

He did, in as much detail as he could remember. Unlike some of his other visions, this one wasn’t fading like a nightmare—it remained immediate and frightening in its vividness. “Mom, I think it’s the girls who were on the news. In Phoenix. I think I should call the cops.”

“The cops? Oh, no. That’s the worst thing you can do. Believe me, I’ve been down that road before. Even in L.A., the police don’t believe in psychics, and you’re talking about Arizona? Pffft. You might as well claim to be from outer space.”

“What about the FBI?”

“What about them? Do you have any real information, Stefan? Anything that could really help those girls right now?”

He thought it over. The impressions had been immediate, but limited to the van, the pain, the fear. He couldn’t describe the exterior of the van, or even the faces of the abductors.

His heart sank, and he bent over to rest his aching forehead on the heel of one hand. “Then what do I do?”

“Whatever you do, son, it will be the right thing. I know this, because I know you.” Rose Blackman’s voice had softened, as if she could sense his distress. Maybe she could, even at this distance. It had been a source of annoyance and comfort to him all his life, that he couldn’t hide anything from his mother or—to a lesser extent—his father. They always knew, somehow, what he felt, if not what he was thinking. “Are you working today?”

“No. I’m supposed to have some production meetings later this week, but I’m at the beach.” He didn’t consider street performing to be working so much as playing, although he couldn’t say she agreed with him. “Why?”

“Maybe you’ll get more information,” she said. “When you do, you can decide what to do. And where to go. But, peanut—”

“Mom!”

“—I had the dream. So watch yourself.” There was a voice in the background, and Rose dropped her own voice to a lower volume. “I have to go. My morning’s very full.”

“Anything exciting?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Should I take this job or that one? What about this guy I’m dating? Movie stars aren’t really any different from everyone else when it comes to insecurities. Except that you can’t keep them waiting. I love you, son.”

“Love to you and Dad,” he said and hung up. He rubbed the plastic of the phone case for a few long seconds, thinking, and then stood up to walk toward the stand of yellow taxis nearby.

“Stefan?” His gaggle of beach beauties stepped into his path, led by Heather in the orange bikini. She pressed against him, arms around his neck. Warm and so very tempting. “You’re not leaving us, are you?” He’d be a fool, that much was clear.

And of course, he was a fool.

“Want to see another trick?” he asked, and they all agreed they did.

It was a disappearing act.

His.




Chapter 3


Katie had been lucky on flights. After grabbing an overnight bag—she always kept one in her car, packed and ready—she’d been the last passenger boarded on the MD-80 out of St. Louis, and spent the flight refreshing her memories of Phoenix, Glendale and the surrounding area. According to her maps, Teal and Lena had been grabbed several miles from the school, which was odd; why hadn’t the girls caught a ride to the movies, or a bus or a cab? It was a long walk. She jotted down questions for Jazz and Kayla, then filled a second page with questions for Christine Evans. Made herself a note to contact the Phoenix field office on landing to make sure they knew she was involved. She might end up needing an intercession from SAC Evangelista, if the local bureaucracy was going to be difficult about things; then again, she expected at least one Athena grad in a position of authority would make some phone calls, and that would straighten out the tangle quickly.

Sitting strapped down made Katie’s bruises and cracked ribs ache fiercely. She swallowed some non-prescription painkillers and tried to nap, since she’d been short on sleep for days. She couldn’t. Her mind kept replaying the visuals she’d constructed from Jazz’s verbal account.

The blue van, easing in at the curb ahead of the three unsuspecting girls. The blitz attack, fast and overwhelming—as if the attackers had known to anticipate considerable resistance. Which implied that they’d done their homework on the girls, and also implied an uncomfortable amount of knowledge about the Athena Academy and its students. Almost certainly not targets of opportunity, these girls, or they’d have managed to surprise their abductors and fight their way free.

Still. It was possible that she was reading too much into it. Maybe this was a simple case of sexual predators cruising for prey…which was never simple. Her mind veered off in unwelcome directions. Too many cases that had ended horribly, too many trials, too many autopsies. She’d seen and heard things that wouldn’t leave her in moments like these, even with all her mental discipline and training. What if it was that rarest of breeds, the team of sexual predators—one to drive, two to abduct? That kind of organization was associated with the most frightening of offenders, the ones capable of the most excessive and calculated cruelty.

Given all that, sleep stayed a distant wish.

Katie opened her eyes as the plane approached the runway and got everything ready. She had one small bag, no purse, and she was fast off the starting blocks once the plane had taxied to a halt. She walked quickly down the Jetway ramp and breathed a sigh of relief when she achieved the open space of the terminal—room to breathe, finally.

As Katie made her way toward the transportation, the traffic congestion increased. It was prime West Coast arrival time, and the flight from LAX had just disgorged a flood of tanned beach-bunny types, along with some business travelers in the dreary uniform of the breed. She could fit in with them, really; she’d worn black slacks today, and sensible shoes, a white-collared linen shirt and black jacket. No jewelry. All she’d done was rinse off the worst of her sweat in the airport bathroom in St. Louis. Crime scenes weren’t fashion runways.

She cut diagonally through the milling crowd, trying to move faster, and collided with someone who had the same idea. “My fault, sorry,” Katie muttered and automatically backed off to steer around. So did he, and for a second she froze, staring, because he was…well, worthy of a good stare. Of a height with her, with a carefree tumble of raven-black curling hair. Big, dark, gentle eyes. Dark golden skin that could have come from half a dozen different ethnic heritages, a clever, handsome face and a devastating smile that he probably didn’t even realize he was using on her.

“No, that was definitely my fault,” he said. He had a great voice, too. She wondered why she was noticing him so intently, and why now, and then it occurred to her: he was noticing her. She wasn’t used to that kind of scrutiny, so blatant and yet nonintrusive. He didn’t leer, he just…appreciated. “I don’t think I can say I’m sorry about it, though. Nice to meet you.”

Realities crashed in. She didn’t have time for flirting; she had a crime scene to visit. The clock was ticking on two young girls, and she’d just wasted at least fifteen seconds of it on ephemera.

Katie took it out on him with a cool “Excuse me, I’m in a hurry,” then brushed by him, walked even faster and didn’t look back.



Stefan Blackman looked after the woman for a long moment, until she vanished into the crowd, and wondered what had possessed him to do a thing like that. There had been some kind of connection between them; he’d felt it, and he could have sworn she had, too. It hadn’t been a vision, not the way his mother received them, or even the way he usually did; it certainly lacked the power and definition of the images he’d received from the girl in the van.

Still. Something there. The woman was gorgeous. Obviously, not in the way he was used to; he couldn’t imagine her in an orange bikini, in-line skating around Venice Beach, for example. No, this one seemed cool and quiet and utterly self-confident, with just a hint of vulnerability in those dark eyes. Professional.

She was also armed. He’d felt it when they’d collided—a pancake holster under her plain black jacket—and his instant thought had been air marshal, but then he’d revised that. She seemed to be on her way somewhere in a hurry, and not just spending her days in airports. No, maybe a cop. FBI. Something like that. He didn’t imagine too many people other than those would be eligible to carry firearms on planes these days.

He’d never really had much to do with cops, other than the ones he ran into on the streets. Once or twice, one of his less-than-savory clients had brought about a visit from detectives, but usually it was perfunctory at most. He’d certainly never seen a cop like her.

Too bad he was on a mission. He was tempted to follow her, wherever she was going, although she’d probably have arrested him for it.

Hmm. Handcuffs.

He entertained himself with mental handcuff escapes as he shouldered his bag and strolled for the exits. He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing in hopping the last-minute flight, but something had told him not to delay. His mother had been correct—the police weren’t about to put any trust in what he had to say, and he didn’t yet have enough specifics to convince them. He needed more detail, and to get that, he needed to start at the beginning.

All he had to do was find the place where the girls had been abducted. Stefan hitched his backpack to a more comfortable position, thinking about the problem, and then strolled over to the nearest bank of phones. He flipped through the directory to find the number for the television station whose call letters he’d seen on the TV earlier, then programmed the main number into his cell phone.

He always did like the press. They were all show people at heart.



The cab stand outside the terminal was a zoo, every cab already claimed and being loaded. Katie growled in frustration and paced, watching as vacationers and business travelers loaded bags and laptops and kids into the available transportation. Come on, she thought. All I need is a damn cab.

One pulled up at the far end of the row, and Katie dashed for it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone else heading there, moving fast, and he was closer. His hand touched the door of the cab before she made it, and she pulled up short, fuming, as he pulled on the handle.

It was the man from the California flight, the one she’d bumped into. He’d been gorgeous in the terminal, but out here in the sun he glowed, his skin an impossible shade of light bronze, his deep black hair picking up blue highlights.

His smile was as warm as the sun.

“Okay, this time I do apologize,” he said and stepped back from the door to offer her the cab. “You look like you’re in even more of a hurry than I am. How about we share? You get dropped off first.”

She wrenched her stare away from that smile to some less dangerous territory. Not his eyes. His eyes were definitely, lethally beautiful.

“No,” she said.

“No?” He hung on to the smile. “You mean, no, you don’t want to share the cab, or no, you’re not taking the cab?”

Yes, she thought. He was rattling her, and that was strange and very distracting in its own right. She never let guys get to her. She’d seen all kinds—gorgeous charmers included—and she was definitely inoculated against their particular gifts. She’d seen the wreckage they left behind.

But this one…well. He was a challenge.

“I’ll take the next one,” she said. “You take this one.” She didn’t need a distraction, and he was the Las Vegas of distractions, neon and glitter and flashing arrows.

He frowned a little, and started to say something she was sure was going to be an argument, but then she heard someone behind her call, “Agent Rush?”

She turned. There was a police cruiser parked at the curb farther down, lights flashing, with two uniformed officers standing next to it. Katie waved.

“I think I already have a ride,” she said.

She walked away, resisting the urge to look back. After a few seconds she heard the click of the cab door shutting, and breathed a sigh of relief as the yellow sedan rolled by. She kept her focus on the police cruiser, and the two officers beside it, as she walked.

Okay, one glance at the taxi. He wouldn’t still be looking….

He was. She looked away, furious with herself, as he waved.

“Agent Rush, welcome to the lovely city of Phoenix. Detective Ryan sent you chauffeurs. Hope you don’t mind riding in our special visitor’s seats.”

The male officer was already opening up the back door of the cruiser. She ducked inside and found it depressingly familiar; she’d ridden in a lot of police cars around the country, and it always seemed to be the same damn car, over and over. Different colored wipe-down vinyl upholstery, and the heavy grillwork separating her from the front seat. There were no handles on the inside of the doors, of course. The whole thing smelled of the body odor and vomit of the last transport, overlaid with the astringent wipe-down they’d given it to make it presentable for her.

“Nice,” she said. “So I’m getting the royal treatment.”

“You know us locals, anything for our cousins from the FBI. Watch your head.”

Their names, according to the name tags, were officers Samson and Gilhoulie—one black, one white, one thin, one plump, one female, one male. The differences didn’t matter much, as far as Katie could tell; they seemed used to each other, in the way of partners or old married couples. Aware of each other at all times, but comfortable.

Samson was the driver of the two, apparently. He got behind the wheel and steered the cruiser into traffic, lights still flashing. Katie looked out the freshly cleaned window—it still smelled of the cleaning product they’d used to give it a streak-free shine—to get her bearings in the city again. In a sense, they really had rolled out the red carpet. Most cop shops would have assumed she could take care of her own transportation.

Phoenix never looked lush, but the weak winter sunlight gave it a wan quality that mirrored Katie’s mood. She remembered the city very well, but it wasn’t a homecoming, not given the circumstances.

“So,” Officer Gilhoulie said and twisted around to look at her. She was a height-challenged redhead with fair Irish skin and blue eyes that seemed pleasant, but had that inner distance all cops everywhere shared. “How long have you known Detective Ryan, ma’am?”

The ma’am was reflexive. All beat cops were courteous to a fault, until they weren’t. Part of their charm.

“Detective Ryan and I went to school together,” Katie said. That usually derailed the conversation because there was nothing more boring than old school-days reminiscences; nobody wanted to hear high school stories except people from your high school. Sure enough, Gilhoulie turned back to face forward.

But, to Katie’s surprise, she continued asking questions.

“You originally from Phoenix, then?”

“Pennsylvania. Philly, actually. I’m just assigned out of the Kansas City field office right now.”

“They move you around in the FBI, huh?”

“Every two years,” Katie said. “Until you get to a certain service level. I’ve probably got one rotation to go before they let me choose a permanent duty station. Doesn’t matter, though. I work all over the country.”

Chitchat, nothing Katie had to focus her attention on beyond the bare minimum. Gilhoulie’s partner, Samson, drove without saying much; he was constantly scanning the streets and sidewalks. Gilhoulie seemed to think it was her duty to entertain the guest, for some reason. “So,” the officer asked, “do you have some kind of specialty, or…?”

“Missing persons,” Katie said. “I specialize in missing persons cases.”

“No wonder Ryan called you,” Gilhoulie said. “So, what kind of school was it? Some kind of prep school, right? I heard it’s exclusive.”

Time to change the subject. “You get a lot of these kinds of abductions in Phoenix these days?”

“No, ma’am,” Samson said immediately. “Mostly the usual, you know, custody disputes. Sometimes we get a kid or woman snatched by predators, though. It happens here same as anywhere else.”

“Did you work the scene of today’s abduction?”

“Just perimeter stuff,” he said, shrugging. “Sorry. Can’t tell you much, except that Detective Ryan’s been a rock. If it was my kid nearly got snatched, I can tell you, I don’t think I’d hold up so well.”

Gilhoulie nodded soberly in agreement. “I always knew she was, you know, pretty good, but she’s been all over this thing today. Her kid’s been terrific, too.”

“Real trooper,” Samson added. He hit the blinker and turned the car onto a side street. “Right up ahead, Agent Rush. You’ll find Detective Ryan in the middle of it.”

He kept driving, passed through a police barricade and parked inside the perimeter, safely away from the crowd of bystanders and press. “Forensics is still processing,” Samson added, although he didn’t really need to; Katie knew from experience how long that could take, for a really complicated crime scene. “Probably got a couple more hours to go before they wrap it up.”

“Got it. Thanks to you both,” she said as Gilhoulie opened up the back door for her.

“Not a problem. Do us a favor. Find the girls, huh?”

“I’ll do my best.” Once upon a time, she’d have said, I will, but she knew that wasn’t always the case. “I appreciate the ride, guys.”

The air was cool outside, especially after the closed-in fug of the police cruiser; Katie took a deep breath, shouldered her bag and headed for the nearest on-duty cop she could spot. Her FBI badge got her instant directions to Kayla Ryan, who was half a block away in a huddle with other police.

There was something indefinable about seeing a fellow Athena Force member—a kind of recognition and simple comfort that went beyond just spotting an old friend. Katie saw Kayla step out of the impromptu meeting going on and head her way.

“Katie,” Kayla said and smiled. They shook hands in a brisk, businesslike fashion rather than hugged—purely for any cameras that happened to be pointed in their direction. “I can’t thank you enough for this. Let’s go someplace more private to talk.”

She led the way with quick strides. They’d always been the same height, but Katie recognized even more similarities. She and Kayla both moved with authority and confidence, thanks to their training both at the Academy and through their careers. Kayla’s skin was shades darker, and she’d let her long dark hair grow. Her brown eyes still looked disarmingly warm. That probably served her very well in interrogations—Katie knew that intimidation, for all its dramatic presentation, was generally less useful than empathy in soliciting information.

In short, Kayla looked great, if strained at the moment. As they walked toward a row of high hedges, backs to the cameras, she caught Kayla exchanging a look with a tall, good-looking detective standing nearby. A look. You didn’t have to be an investigator to read his regard for her, and to see it was something more than just professional courtesy.

“So I guess the press is all over this one,” Katie said and winced as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. Her ribs were making their protests felt. Again. “Why the cloak and dagger?”

“Parabolic microphones. Some of the more enterprising news reporters have them around here. They can’t air the footage, unless they want to lose any cooperation in the future from the department, but they can still use the information they get in other ways.” Kayla shook her head. “Lots of �unnamed sources’ come from surveillance. I’m not willing to take the chance. Besides, guess who’s here as our special media guest?”

“60 Minutes?”

“I just wish. No, Shannon Connor.”

“Shannon!” Katie blurted, shocked. Not that she couldn’t have foreseen it happening, of course. Shannon Connor had been a promising student at the Athena Academy—in Kayla’s group, the Graces, in fact—but she’d shown a dark side, and had made history as the first girl ever expelled from the Academy. Not that she wasn’t bright, but she was ambitious and bitter. Since getting thrown out of the school, she’d gone on to a relatively successful career in broadcast journalism…but she was always looking for dirt on the Academy and its graduates. “She’d better be looking to help, not just digging for trouble.”

“You know Shannon. She’s looking for any angle that will make us look…” Kayla shrugged.

“I can’t believe she’d stoop that low. Not with kids at stake.”

“She’s a reporter. Of course she’d stoop that low.” Which might have been ungenerous, but Katie wasn’t much inclined to grant Shannon Connor any benefit of the doubt, either.

The hedges had a gate, which Kayla swung open and motioned her through. The other side was cool and green and open—a community garden, pretty and peaceful, xeriscaped with desert plants. Secluded.

A young lady slumped, hands folded, on a concrete park bench under the skeletal branches of a large tree. She looked up as Kayla and Katie approached, and got to her feet quickly.

Kayla’s daughter, Jazz, looked taller than Katie remembered, but that was the way with kids…. They grew while you weren’t watching. Jazz looked much more mature, though. She’d always been self-possessed, but the time at the Athena Academy had given her even more of that. Except for a hint of nervousness in the quick way she glanced at her mother, she looked as cool as ice.

She was dressed in blue jeans and a pink top, long-sleeved and hooded. Warm enough for a walk, but not for sitting on a cold bench. She was shivering.

“Officer,” Katie called and got an instant response from one of the uniformed cops near the gate. “Can you lend me your jacket?”

He slid it off and handed it over; Katie draped the police-issue jacket around Jazz’s thin shoulders. “There,” she said. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed softly. “Thanks. Hi, Katie.”

“Hi, honey. So, bad day, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” Jazz swallowed hard and glanced again at her mother, who was watching her with so much love and concern it made Katie’s heart turn over. “They almost got me, but Teal and Lena, they made sure I got away. I didn’t want to leave them, Katie. I didn’t!”

“I know you didn’t. Here. Sit with me.” She took a seat on the cold concrete bench and patted the empty spot next to her. “Maybe your mom can get you something to drink? Some water?”

It was a pretext, but a necessary one; she couldn’t just tell Kayla to leave, and Kayla needed an excuse to go. When Jazz nodded gratefully, the two women exchanged a quick glance, and Kayla reached down to hug her daughter before walking off in search of refreshments.

Katie waited until she was sure Kayla was out of earshot.

“You don’t have to be brave with me,” she said, and Jazz crumbled, sobbing against her. Katie put her arms around her, wincing as Jazz hugged back, but she bit her lip and stood the pain. She stroked the girl’s soft, silky hair with slow movements. “You’ve been brave all day, haven’t you?”

“I had to.” Jazz gulped. Her voice was more like a little girl’s now, shaking and high-pitched. “Everybody was counting on me. I had to remember, and tell people, and—”

“And you did that, you did. But you were scared, too, and that’s okay. It’s okay, you understand?”

Jazz pulled back, eyes swollen and streaming tears. She gave Katie a pleading look. “Mom never is.”

“Your mom is scared a lot, but she tries not to let it show.” Katie gave the girl a smile, a small one, appropriate to the mood. “Like me. But you need to break down sometimes to be stronger later. You understand that? I’ll bet your mom cries later.”

“She—” Jazz gulped air and looked more thoughtful. “Sometimes, I guess. She closes the door. I hear her crying, but only when things were really bad at work or something.”

“Well, today, they’re really bad at work and she’s afraid for you, too. So give her a break. Let her take care of you, okay?”

Jazz nodded. Her body language was slowly uncoiling from the wire-tight posture it had been, and Katie breathed a cautious sigh of relief. The last thing the kid needed was to bottle all this up. It was traumatic, and Jazz was—like all Athena students—advanced for her age. A recipe for emotional disaster.

“You feel like telling me the story now? One last time?”

Jazz bent her head and sat up again, hands braced on either side on the cold concrete bench. Her voice was soft, and still a little unsteady, but Katie heard every word. “We decided to go to the movies. It was—we had the day off.”

“Why didn’t you ask for transportation? Call a cab?”

Jazz didn’t look up. “We wanted to walk. It was a nice day.”

Girls her age didn’t want to walk, they wanted to get where they were going fast, and have fun even faster.

“Jazz, if you lie to me, you’re putting Teal and Lena in danger. You know that, don’t you?”

Jazz’s head jerked up in outright astonishment. Katie raised an eyebrow and waited as Jazz found words. “I didn’t lie!”

“I’m afraid you did. And you lied to your mother, and to the police, and now you think you can’t change your story. But you can, Jazz. Nobody thinks you’re at fault here.”

“But—”

Katie let a little hardness creep into her voice. “You weren’t going to the movies. You didn’t take the school transportation service because you didn’t want anybody to know where you were going, and you didn’t take a cab because you didn’t want any record. Right?”

Jazz looked as bewildered as if Katie had just pulled a rabbit out of her ear. “How—?” She swallowed the question and flushed pale pink under her matte-tan skin. “I didn’t lie. We would have gone to the movies. We were planning to do it late afternoon.”

“So where were you going in the morning?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret. Teal made me promise.”

“Teal made you promise.”

Jazz nodded slowly. “There was someone from the school in trouble. She needed help. Teal and Lena promised to meet her. I wasn’t really supposed to go along, but I followed them and caught up after I overheard. Besides, I wanted to go to the movies.”

Precocious didn’t half cover it, Katie thought. She wondered if she’d been so difficult at Jazz’s age, thought back and decided that it was entirely possible. “Where were you going? And who were you meeting?”

“We were going to the mall. It’s only a couple of blocks away. I don’t know who we were meeting, it was a secret. Teal and Lena didn’t want to talk about it.”

This didn’t sound nearly as innocent as Jazz probably thought it did. “Could it have been boys? Somebody they met in town, maybe?”

“I— No. No, they told me it was somebody from the school.”

“There are men working at the school.”

Jazz shook her head. “They said she.”

It couldn’t be an accident that Teal and Lena had been off-campus and picked off so neatly; somebody had set it up. Somebody had set a place and a time for them to be, and they’d walked right into it. Jazz had been an unexpected ride-along. No wonder they’d allowed her to escape.

“Okay, walk me through what happened. You were walking—”

Kayla returned midway through the recitation of the facts, but that was all right. The secret had been revealed, and Katie could see from the kid’s body language that she had nothing more to conceal. She’d told everything she knew.

Nevertheless, just for clarity, Katie walked Jazz through the rest of the story, start to finish, stopping her for details that seemed unimportant but might be vital later on. She made illegible scribbles in her own fluid abbreviations and listened for any false notes.

Nothing.

When silence fell, Katie checked her watch. It was sliding toward evening, and the chill was getting sharper in the air. The desert didn’t hold in the heat poured over it during the day, and it was going to get bone-shaking cold tonight. “Right,” she said. “I think that’s it, Jazz. You’ve been wonderful. I’ll check in on you when I can, okay?”

“Wait.” Jazz caught her hand. “You’re going to find them, right? You promise?”

Katie Rush never promised. It was unprofessional; it was hurtful and it added complications the job didn’t need. She’d learned that hard, and she never broke the rule.

She did now. “Yes,” she said. “I promise. They’re coming back safe.”

She walked off a little distance with Kayla, who was anxious and trying hard not to look it. “Anything?” Kayla asked.

Katie didn’t answer directly. “I need to go up to the school. Can someone give me a ride?”

“Of course. I’ll take you—”

“No, you need to take your daughter home. I’ll keep you fully briefed on what I find out—if anything. Be with Jazz right now.” She remembered the tall detective they’d passed, who’d looked at Kayla with such outright concern and longing. “And…anybody else you might need to see.”

Kayla flushed, just like her daughter. “It’s my case, I can’t just drop it!”

“It’s not your case,” Katie said and turned to face her. Cold air blew over them, reminding them that night was falling, that darkness was coming. “Your daughter was an assault victim. Two of her friends are missing. Nobody in their right mind is going to keep you in charge of this case, you know that. Phoenix PD is going to follow their own course. But me, I’m independent. I can follow leads they can’t, especially leads that come up inside of the Academy. Let me do this for you.”

Katie stared her down. It took a long time, but then Kayla always had been strong-willed, tough-minded and determined.

But she knew when to quit.

“All right,” she said. “But you keep me in the loop. Daily. Hourly, if there’s breaking news.”

“Of course. Now go home.”

“Not before I get you a car.”

It took more than that, of course, but it wasn’t more than fifteen minutes before Katie had her ride—a plain white Ford, police issue, complete with radio, siren, dashboard light and the lingering smell of old coffee.

Katie backed her new wheels out of the police barricades and through a tunnel of people that the uniformed officers kept open for her. As she applied the brakes, prior to turning around, her headlights swept across the faces of the reporters, the cops, the bystanders—fewer now than before, of course, but still a respectably sized crowd.

One stood out. She jammed the brakes harder, bringing the car to a full halt, and then slowly allowed the car to roll forward until she stopped next to the man on whom she’d focused.

He leaned down to rest his forearms on the frame of the open window and cocked his curly dark head. His eyes were as bright and curious as a raven’s.

“Agent Rush,” he said pleasantly. She didn’t smile.

“Are you following me?” Because he was, unquestionably, the man from the airport. The man from the cab.

“No.”

“You just ended up here by accident.”

He had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “Not—exactly, look, can I get in the car and talk to you? I—”

“No,” she said flatly. “I appreciate that you’re persistent, but you need to stop now. Following a federal agent is a risky business, do you understand me? So please. Look for a date at your hotel bar.”

He straightened up, obviously surprised and maybe a little bit angry; there was something in his eyes that flashed like lightning. But she hit the accelerator and left him behind, just a dim and distant figure that disappeared into the falling night.

Weird, she thought. He must have had the cab follow her from the airport, and then he’d spent the entire afternoon just…waiting. That was more extreme than she liked, no matter how attractive he was.

She impatiently shook off the memory of his eyes, his smile, and followed the road to Glendale, and the Athena Academy.




Chapter 4


Stefan Blackman stared after the glaring red taillights of Agent Rush’s car, temporarily stunned into stillness. He’d expected skepticism, but not outright dismissal—especially that kind of dismissal. Frankly, he wasn’t used to rejection. It stung. And it made him angry, too, because he had something to say, didn’t he? Something useful.

Something not at all about how lovely she was.

“Great.” He sighed and shook his head. Stuck in Phoenix, no transportation, no way to get the attention of anybody who would listen. He’d already tried to find a sympathetic officer to get to the good-looking brunette detective with the kid, but no go…. They’d taken his name and probably his photo, but they wouldn’t let him near her. Or anyone. And he wasn’t sure it was a good time to cause a scene—it would only make him look crazier.

What, then? Back to the airport? Back home? It was starting to have a powerful allure, getting the hell out of here and back to the warm, familiar cocoon of his life. He didn’t like how all this was making him feel, not at all.

Yes, that was what he was going to do. Clearly, the police didn’t need him; they had a massive presence here, and with the FBI descending, as well, surely they had more than enough leads without the admittedly not-very-specific visions of a psychic. Cops usually liked to resort to that sort of thing last, not first. And hell, there were phones, right? He could always call.

Maybe he could catch the red-eye back home….

The vision hit him with sudden, wrenching force, sending him sagging against the wooden police barricade and grabbing for support. He sensed all that distantly because this vision was even more visceral and immediate than the previous.

Still in the van. Driving. The girl was feeling the vibration through her body, facedown on the floor of the van. Muscles aching, hands and feet numbed from the tight bonds. Fear slowly receding, simply because she couldn’t continue to be afraid forever…

The girl next to her, the blonde with punk-purple streaks, had mastered her own terror and was doing something with her fingers. She was slowly, clumsily signing letters….

Stefan felt the girl try to sign back.

A hand reached down from somewhere above in the darkness and grabbed the first girl’s hair, yanking it painfully up and pulling her to her knees. She was breathing hard through her nose and trying not to cry. If her nose clogged up, she’d smother. The duct tape on her mouth wasn’t giving, no matter how she tried to work her jaw to loosen it.

“Hey,” said a rough male voice. “I told you not to move, get it? Don’t move. I can always drug you if you give me trouble. You want to avoid that, you stay still. We need one of you, not both. Either one of you gets cute, you get to watch the other one get hurt. Bad. Understood? Nod.”

The girl nodded, breathing hard. On the floor, the blonde nodded, too, eyes leaking furious tears.

The pressure on the girl’s hair released, and she overbalanced and fell hard, banging into the floor face-first. The impact stunned her, and she tasted blood, coppery and hot….

Stefan jerked out of the vision, swallowed, and could still taste the blood. He felt like vomiting. Whoever the girl was, she was controlling her fear, but it was real and immediate. Either one of you gets cute, you get to watch the other one get hurt. He hadn’t been able to sense her thoughts at all, only visuals and sensations, but that was enough. More than enough.

He still didn’t know where she was, or even if the visions were real time; it could have been something that happened hours ago, or would happen an hour into the future. No time sense to any of it. The van was dark in the interior, and the girl hadn’t been able to see….

Wait.

He realized he was still hunched over, clutching the police barricade in both hands, and forced himself to let go and straighten up. He felt sweat trickling down his face, despite the cool night breeze, and wiped his forehead with shaking hands.

As her abductor had jerked the girl up to her knees by the hair, she’d been able to get a brief glimpse out of the front window. The headlights had spilled over a dark empty road, a brilliant yellow line…

…and a road sign.

“She’s on Highway 347,” he said to himself. “She’s there now.” Because the view had still been washed with a faint tint of sunset, the far horizon not yet completely dark.

He needed to tell somebody. Anybody.

Stefan pushed through the crowd of bored reporters to the edge of the crime scene, where the uniformed officers were looking even more bored. Forensics was packing up, and the floodlights were going off. They were leaving.

No sign of the brunette detective and her girl; long gone, he guessed. Out the other side, where there were fewer reporters.

“Sir,” he said, and then louder, “Officer!”

The nearest cop, who’d been speaking with two others, turned to look at him with a dead-eyed stare. “Stay behind the tape, sir,” he said.

“I am behind the tape. I have—”

“You’re leaning over.”

“This is important, I know where they are! The girls!”

He had all their attention now, an uncomfortable weight of it. “How do you know that, sir?” “I saw them.”

“Where, sir?”

“In a van, traveling on Highway 347. I don’t know if they’re going north or south…”

“Back up, sir. How exactly did you see inside the van?”

Oh boy. “I just know, okay? I know. You need to look for them on Highway 347, and hurry. They probably won’t be there long, and those girls are in danger. They’re going to get hurt.”

He didn’t have to be a psychic to get the sense that the cops were not pleased with his explanation, although they dutifully took down all his contact information—home address, cell phone, everything but his brand of underwear. The male cop stepped forward and looked at Stefan from a height well above six feet. “You just know,” he said. “As in, what? You had a dream?”

“A vision, actually,” he said. “Look, I need to talk to the detectives. I can help!”

The cop nodded, but his face had shut down into an expressionless mask. “I see. I’ve got your name and contact information, sir. I’ll make sure it gets to the detectives.”

“Highway 347—”

“Yes, sir. We’ll follow that up.”

The cop was humoring him. No question about it. Stefan felt a hot burn of rage, but it wouldn’t do any good to let it out; he’d get to talk to the detectives, all right, in handcuffs. Not so much a talk as an interrogation, probably.

He needed to talk to Agent Rush.

“Fine,” Stefan said and held up his hands in surrender. “Just check Highway 347. You know how to find me if you need more information.”

Not that he had any more information, really. The glimpse of the road sign had been a pure gift of luck. It wasn’t exactly breaking news that the girl was terrified, or that she was in a van. Or that her friend had purple-streaked hair.

Or that they were in real trouble.

Stefan moved away, furious and frustrated, and tried to decide on his next move. He had no idea where Agent Rush had gone, and had no way to track her down. And he needed to talk to her, he just sensed it. She would listen to what he had to say, if he could just get past that thick defensive shell.

And to do that, she had to want to talk to him.

“Cops giving you a hard time?” asked a cool female voice at his elbow. He turned and saw a petite blonde dressed from the waist up in an expensive silk shirt and tailored jacket, and from the waist down in blue jeans and flats. She looked styled and coiffed and perfectly made-up.

Television reporter, beyond any doubt.

“A little,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but I overheard what you said to him. You said you had information about the missing girls…? Something about Highway 347?”

He smiled at her. She smiled back. It was purely a professional exchange; there was something about her that put him on his guard, maybe the slightly harsh glitter in her eyes, or the ambition he sensed coming off her in waves. Not a bad person, he sensed, but a driven one. Compulsively needing to win.

He had no idea what game she was playing, but she clearly saw him as some kind of pawn.

“How do you know I’m not one of the kidnappers?” he asked. Her eyebrows rose, and those brown eyes sparkled even more.

“Are you? Because that would be one hell of a story.” She hastily tamped down her excitement. “Provided the girls were returned unharmed, of course.”

“Of course.” He tried to keep the irony out of his voice. “I heard they’re both students at a local girls’ school.”

“Private school,” the reporter said. “What do you know about the Athena Academy?”

“Athena Academy?” he repeated blankly. He’d never heard of it. He knew about the goddess Athena, of course— “Nothing.”

“You weren’t called in? Maybe by one of the alumni to help with the investigation?” She seemed to be fishing for something, dangling bait, but he had no idea what she meant.

He shrugged. “I’m a private citizen. Not called in by anybody. How about you?”

She gave him a knowing smile. “I have my sources. I got a tip early in the investigation.” Some of the light went out of her eyes. Too bad. They’d been quite pretty for a while, and now they were narrowing and hardening again. “But you’re just a guy who listens to the police band and hangs around crime scenes? Wastes the time of the police with false leads?” She was in pursuit of a completely different story now, one potentially damaging to him both personally and professionally. He needed to establish credentials, quickly.

“No,” he said and stepped forward, forcing her to meet his eyes. “My name is Stefan Blackman, and I’m a psychic well known in Los Angeles, and if you want to put me on the air, I’ll tell you everything I know about the abduction of these girls. Including where the van was as of five minutes ago.”

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, then smiled. She held out her hand to him, and when he automatically took it, shook briskly. “Shannon Connor, ABS. I’ve certainly heard of you, Mr. Blackman. Don’t they call you the Network Psychic?”

He hated that idiotic name, but he nodded. “I work for the broadcast networks, but not as a psychic. What I do for them really doesn’t involve psychic ability,” he said. “I just read the concepts for the shows and pick the ones I think will be most successful.”

“But everybody says that your track record is extraordinary. Something like ninety-five percent, right?”

He shrugged. “That part’s not visions. It’s just good sense.”

“I like that. Save that for the camera, okay?” Shannon turned and waved at someone in the crowd, then made a pointing gesture toward a large panel van decorated with the ABS logo. A broadcast van. Stefan recognized the heavy extendable antenna mounted to the top of it. “Ten minutes to get set up, then we can tape. I can’t promise when it will air, though. Probably in rotation at the next news break. We’re in luck that Tory Patton’s off on maternity leave—I’m getting premium time, thanks to her getting knocked up. Next thing you know, I’ll be the anchor.” She winked, letting him know it was all in fun. Sort of. “Sound okay to you?”

He hadn’t expected to land a full interview, not so quickly, but time was ticking away, and if he didn’t attract the attention of that cool, dismissive FBI agent soon, it would—he knew—be too late.

“Ready when you are,” he said and gave her a full, charming smile to seal the deal.




Chapter 5


Coming back to the Athena Academy was like coming home for Katie—but a home that had new occupants. The buildings all looked gracious and eternal, but there were signs of subtle changes: different paint on the trim of the outbuildings, new trees here and there. Hardy, drought-resistant native plants where she remembered an English herb garden. And had the driveway always been this long?

Her headlights swept a new building, adorned with a brass plaque, and she remembered that a new science wing had been dedicated to Rainy Miller. She hadn’t been able to attend the ceremony, but Kayla had told her about it.

There were a few older students outside, dressed in casual clothes since the school day was over. Casual clothes far more fashionable than those Katie had worn during her school days. Or wore now, for that matter. Most were studying, nodding their heads in time with the music on their iPods, but a few were talking. One group was playing soccer in the fading light, squealing and laughing. If you didn’t know what the Athena Academy was, you wouldn’t have much of a clue to look at the scene. Maybe, if you were very observant, she thought, you’d notice the advanced nature of the texts the girls were studying. Or the fluid speed and grace of the ones playing soccer.

Even as she thought it, one girl slid feetfirst across the grass and executed a devastating sideways kick. The goalie deflected the shot, but it rebounded with force, hit a tree and caromed into Katie’s unmarked police car as she pulled it to a stop.

“Sorry!” the goalie yelled, and jogged over to grab the ball and send it back into play. Katie watched her with a strange mixture of affection and dread—the affection was for the girl; the dread was for herself. Dread that she wouldn’t do what everyone expected from her—that she wouldn’t be able to find the girls, or save them. It was a dread she always felt, every time, and she mastered it with a few moments of concentration. Focus on the facts, Katie. Facts and procedure were what got you through the tough emotional moments in a job like this. And she had no doubt that there would be a tough emotional moment coming soon; the women she was about to sit down with were formidable, to say the least, and it was entirely possible that she was going to have to suggest—maybe more than suggest—that someone they knew and most likely trusted was involved in the abduction of two students.

She delayed for only a minute or so, thinking over what she would say, and how, and then stepped out into the cool, thin air.

And into memories.

The steps. She remembered walking up these steps so many times, sometimes trudging in exhaustion, sometimes skipping up so lightly it felt as though she floated on air. Around her, the girls of her group—the Graces—had chatted and quarreled and generally acted like the closest of sisters. Which they’d been, and still were, although the relationships had matured along with their ages. All Athena Academy graduates were siblings, in a sense; some were just closer than others.

Some were closer than family.

As she entered the open front door, she saw a tall, straight-backed figure standing on the stairs with one elegant hand on the railing. The lights in the foyer were dimmed, but still bright enough to show Katie the grave, composed expression on Rebecca Claussen’s face. Rebecca still looked just the same to Katie’s eyes; maybe a bit more gray in the shoulder-length hair, a few more lines at the corners of her eyes. But a welcoming smile and an extended hand, nonetheless. “Katie,” she said. “Thank you for coming. I know this wasn’t easy for you, to drop everything and rush to our aid.”

It wasn’t anything more than any other Athena graduate would have done, Katie was tempted to say, but she only nodded and shook the strong, dry hand, then followed Rebecca up the wide, sweeping staircase to the second floor.

“Are their parents here?” Katie asked. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at her and nodded. “May I speak with them?”

“Of course. But I don’t think you’ll find many leads there—Teal and Lena were exemplary students, and they had permission to leave campus.”

“Permission? So someone knew where they were going?”

“We log in destinations for any student who leaves the campus grounds, Katie. Here. We’ll discuss this in private.” Rebecca swung open a set of double doors and revealed her office, a Spartan kind of place with a few mementos and photographs of her husband. He’d died, Katie remembered, about eight years ago. Rebecca still wore the wedding ring. “Please, have a seat.” She closed the doors after Katie and, instead of taking the chair behind the large wooden desk, pulled up a smaller visitor’s chair to sit almost knee to knee with Katie.

“Where were they going? According to the official record?” Katie asked.

Rebecca’s dark eyebrows rose. “Official record? Why would there be any discrepancy?”

“Because they’re teenage girls, and I have an idea from Jazz Ryan that they weren’t exactly lying, but they weren’t telling the whole truth, either. May I see the records?”

Rebecca reached for a folder on her desk and flipped it open before handing it over. Katie scanned it quickly. It was a simple log of students, time and date out, destination, time and date back in. Completely routine. Teal and Lena had signed out together, and Jazz had signed out just afterward, which supported Jazz’s statement that she’d tagged along without an invitation. Destination for Teal and Lena was listed as “movies,” and the address of the mall theater in Glendale. Jazz had copied the same information.

Katie handed it back and said, “Jazz told me that they were planning on going to the movies, but they had something else to do first. Has anybody made any reference to it? Any student?”

“No, Katie. We would have informed the police immediately if we’d had any additional information. All we know is that the girls left campus and didn’t return.” Rebecca’s hazel eyes assessed her coolly. She was a tough woman, and she’d always been able to at least appear to see a student’s innermost secrets with a single glance. But Katie wasn’t a student anymore, and she held the stare without flinching. “You think there’s some kind of information here at the school. Some lead.”

Katie didn’t deny it. “I’d like to speak with their parents, and then with the girls in Lena and Teal’s group. If anybody here knows, they would.” Both of them knew how close the bonds were within those groups, assigned during the girls’ first year. “Can you make them available for interviews?”

“So long as either Ms. Evans or I can be present during the conversations.”

“Of course.” She’d rather not, actually, but it seemed unlikely she’d get that much cooperation. The women in charge of Athena Academy were protective of their students. “How many are available tonight?”

“All of them. Naturally, we understand the urgency and time pressures you face. We’ve already gathered the girls. Do you want to speak with them individually?”

“Together first,” she said. In her experience, adults weren’t great at hiding things from authority figures, but kids were even worse.

And she needed to save time. Individual interviews would take too long.

Rebecca nodded. “If you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll get the girls together in a common area.” She moved quickly, with confidence, and Katie was left alone in her office. She rose and paced restlessly, thinking through what was coming and trying not to think about what might be happening to the missing girls.

“Katie.”

A voice behind her. She turned, hands clasped behind her back, and saw Christine Evans standing in the doorway. Christine was a striking figure, just as Katie remembered her—maybe a little more silver in the short gray hair, but it didn’t so much soften her as add another touch of metal. Christine was solid. Katie was an active woman, fit as an FBI agent generally had to be, but Christine had always looked exactly like what she was: a war veteran. Tough, competent and perfectly capable of sending a drill sergeant in full retreat when she cared to do so.

“Ms. Evans,” Katie said, and then corrected herself before she could be reminded. “Christine.”

“I’m so glad you were brought into this. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have looking for the girls.” Christine crossed the room toward her, and if Katie hadn’t been well aware that she was blind in her left eye—had been since anyone Katie’s age knew her—she’d never have suspected that the slight gesture of Christine’s left hand at her side was designed to warn her of any obstacles in her path. Christine offered her hand—a large, square, capable hand, with meticulously clean French manicured fingernails—and Katie shook it. She knew she had a strong grip, but Christine’s was always an order of magnitude greater—not out of any desire to intimidate, just because that was Christine’s level.

Katie couldn’t forget how things had been when Marion Gracelyn, the founder of Athena Academy, had met her death. Things could have so easily fallen apart. It had taken a strong personality to step into that hurricane and make order from chaos…and a gentle one. The girls had needed comfort and a sense of security, and Christine had been the perfect one to do it.

Still, that didn’t make the strength of Christine’s handshake any less painful. Katie smiled and reclaimed her tingling fingers as fast as she could. “It’s good to see you, ma’am.”

Christine snorted. “Ma’am. The next thing you know, you’ll be saluting, Katie. How have you been?”

“Fine.” She had no idea how to make small talk with someone who loomed as large in her personal cosmology as Christine Evans.

“As I recall,” Christine said, “you always were a private person. I hope you’ve worked through that somewhat—I hear you are exceptional at your job, of course. But I know all too well that the type of work you’ve chosen isolates you. You’re happy?”

“Very.” She wasn’t about to talk about her personal life—or lack of one, more accurately—with her old headmistress. “I heard that your great-nephew, William, was injured…?”

Nothing like turning the focus on the other person to cover your own inadequacies, Katie thought wryly. But she also knew that Christine worried about her family, and it was probably a justified sort of worry.

“I just heard from him,” Christine said. “He’s recovering well, and I expect they’ll have him back in uniform soon. Not soon enough, most likely—he’s bored, and that’s never a good sign for someone like William. Or us, for that matter.”

“I’m glad he’s all right,” Katie said. “If I could see Teal and Lena’s parents—”

“Together or separately?”

“Separately, please, if it’s no bother.”

“None at all.” Christine’s one bright eye fixed on her. “I’ve been thinking that this doesn’t look like a random snatch-and-grab kidnapping. It appears more planned than impulsive. That implies that someone must have provided information about where the girls were going—if not students, then staff or employees. I’ve taken the liberty of retrieving personnel files for you.”

It never failed to surprise Katie just how ahead of the game Christine was, although she supposed she should have gotten used to it by now. “Thank you,” she said. “I was wondering how to bring that up. I know that you feel very loyal to everyone here, but—”

“But it’s possible for anyone to be deceived,” Christine said briskly. “Yes. I have no illusions about such things, Katie. However, if one of my people betrayed these girls, I promise you, hell hath no fury to match Christine Evans.”

That, Katie could fully believe. She grinned slightly and said, “Could I look over the files after I speak with the parents and the other girls?”

“They’ll be ready.” Christine met her eyes. “I know that you can’t keep me fully informed, but I’d like to have what information you can provide without violating your oaths.”

“You’ll have it.” She hesitated for a second and then said, “These girls. You know I need to ask…. Can you tell me something about them? About what kind of unusual traits they have, specifically? Things that I’m guessing might not be in the files.”

For a second, she wasn’t sure Christine was going to cooperate, but then the woman nodded slightly. “It might be important,” she agreed. “If Teal and Lena were specifically targeted, then it might have been because of what they could do, that’s certainly a possibility. Lena’s very fast and very strong—in fact, she’s one of the only girls in school capable of keeping up with Teal’s physical abilities. Lena’s certainly outgoing, and she’s also civic-minded—she likes entertaining children, the elderly, anyone in need of a little miracle.”

That, more than anything else, made Katie feel a stab of true fear for Lena. She’s in need of her own miracle, she thought. “And Teal?”

“Teal’s a different case,” Christine said. “Fast and strong, as I mentioned, but there’s more to her. We haven’t been able to determine the exact nature of it, because her abilities seem to be developing, but she’s certainly capable of some telepathic contact, though thus far only with those who have similar abilities. You understand, none of this is in the standard files.”

“Of course,” Katie said. “And it won’t go in my files, either. But it could help.”

Christine smiled. It transformed her from severe to glowing, and Katie found herself smiling back, despite the situation, despite the dire danger that two girls faced somewhere out in the night. “It’s really good to have you on our side, Katie,” Christine said. “Really good. The resources of the Academy and Athena Force are at your disposal.”

No small promise there.



The worst part of any case like this was facing the parents, Katie had always found, and this was no different. Teal’s mother was composed, pale and tense, and she answered questions in a flat monotone while her husband sat staring at his hands. He was angry, Katie sensed, but he wasn’t going to let it out. Teal’s mother, on the other hand, was almost completely consumed with fear.

It wasn’t a productive interview.

It wasn’t until Katie was getting ready to leave that Mrs. Arnett suddenly stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and whispered, “You have to find her. She’s special.”

Katie knew that, all too well. She nodded, but Mrs. Arnett kept talking. There was a feverish light in her eyes.

“Teal—you have to understand, we tried and tried to have children, nothing worked, it was really a miracle. If it hadn’t been for the fertility clinic she wouldn’t be here at all. She’s a miracle baby. Please. Help her.”

Katie covered Mrs. Arnett’s trembling hand with her own. “I will.” Out of some obscure impulse, almost as an afterthought, she asked, “Which clinic?”

“What?” Mrs. Arnett blinked. “Oh. The Women’s Fertility Center in Zuni, New Mexico. Is that important?”

“Probably not. I promise you, ma’am, I’m going to do everything I can. You should rest. We’ll keep you informed when we have any information.”

Katie walked from that room—a study room, warm and cozy, lined with reference books—to the empty classroom next door, where Lena Poole’s mother waited. No father in evidence—traveling, Katie learned, in Asia. Mrs. Poole didn’t know when he’d get back. Unlike Mrs. Arnett, this mother was angry—white-hot with it. Almost vibrating. It didn’t matter to Katie; she’d dealt with every kind of reaction, and she knew when to use strength, when to use persuasion, when to use sympathy. Mrs. Poole responded to sympathy. Ultimately, beyond providing a good photograph of Lena, she had nothing to add—but Katie, on that same obscure impulse from before, asked about medical history. Not just Lena’s— Lena had been exceptionally healthy, which wasn’t unusual for the enhanced girls who attended the Athena Academy—but Mrs. Poole’s, as well.

Lena, it appeared, was also a product of fertility treatments.

And Mrs. Poole had received her treatments at the same clinic as Mrs. Arnett.

Katie left Mrs. Poole weeping quietly, comforted by another of the Athena Academy staff members, and stepped into the hall to make a phone call, this time to Kayla Ryan. “Quick question,” she said when Kayla answered. “What do you know about the Women’s Fertility Clinic in Zuni, New Mexico?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t ring any bells. Why?”

“Look into it, would you? Let me know.” She flipped the phone shut, tried to put that strange puzzle out of her mind, and moved on to the next challenge.

The girls.

Although the students were understandably upset and anxious—as was the staff—the mass interview was brief, as Katie’s well-honed instincts dismissed girl after girl from consideration. She pared down the numbers to just two after half an hour: Melissa Princeman and Gabriella Sanchez. They were as different as could be. Melissa was small, delicate, almost elfin, and every emotion showed on her heart-shaped face. Gabriella was large, solid and muscular.

Melissa was radiating frantic guilt. Gabriella was so controlled that Katie couldn’t help but think that there was something waiting behind it to be discovered.

They sat in one of the smaller classrooms, one Katie remembered well; she’d suffered through geology in this room, absolutely convinced that knowing about rocks would never help her in the least. She’d held that opinion right up until she’d discovered the fascinations of forensic science, and geology had opened up for her like a new horizon.

She shook herself out of the past and focused on the present as she paced. Christine Evans had taken the teacher’s desk at the front, and Rebecca stood quietly at the back of the room. The two girls were rigid and unmoving in their student chairs.

“Melissa,” Katie said, “what if I told you that somebody saw you with Teal today?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it struck home. Melissa visibly flinched, and her china-blue eyes welled up with tears.

“It wasn’t my fault!” she blurted. “It was just a note, I didn’t read it or anything. I don’t even know if it was important! I just handed it to her!”

“And did she open it while you were standing there?”

Melissa nodded, gulping back sobs. “She showed it to Lena. They both looked worried.”

“But you don’t know what was in it?”

Melissa shook her head violently. Tears broke free and slid down her pale cheeks.

“Melissa.” Katie slowly lowered herself into a crouch, one hand on the student desk for stability, and looked Melissa in the eyes. “Honey, you need to tell me who gave you the note.”

Melissa looked stricken and anguished. “It couldn’t have been the note. Honest, it couldn’t.”

“You still need to tell me. You don’t want anything to happen to Lena and Teal, do you? We need to eliminate that note as being part of what happened.”

“No, it couldn’t have been anything bad—” Melissa couldn’t finish. She looked away. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

From the front, Christine Evans said softly, “Melissa. You may have promised not to tell, but promises sometimes have to be broken for the greater good. Keeping your word at a time like this is nothing but a way to avoid responsibility.”

Melissa swallowed, nodded and looked down at her intertwined fingers. “I see that. But—”

“It was me,” Gabriella interrupted flatly. “I gave Melissa the note to give to Teal. Liss, there’s no reason to protect me. I don’t have anything to hide.”

Melissa looked tremendously relieved. Gabriella sat back in her chair and crossed her arms—defensive body language. Her deep brown eyes were steady. She was Teal’s age, Katie remembered. Nearly adult, and probably determined to act more than her age. Not a bad girl, but one who might have a lot to prove.

“Tell me about the note,” Katie said and sat down in the student desk across from her, leaning forward. Open posture. “What was in it?”

“It wasn’t mine,” Gabriella said. “Somebody gave it to me. I only gave it to Liss because I knew she’d see Teal first. They had track together.”

Katie controlled her frustration with an effort. “Gabriella, what was in the note?”

Gabriella’s eyes widened just slightly, but her tone stayed completely neutral. “How would I know? You think I read it?”

Not a denial, Katie noted. “I know you did. What did it say?”

Gabriella finally showed an expression—a flicker of shame. She looked away. “It wasn’t a message really. It just said, Blue Camaro, in front of Macy’s, at 11:00 a.m.”

“It was instructions to meet someone,” Katie said. “Why didn’t you come forward with this?”

“Because I—” Gabriella’s lips tightened. “Look, we were just trying to do the right thing, okay? Somebody was in trouble, and we were trying to help out. Besides, their disappearance couldn’t be about the note. Teal and Lena never even got to Macy’s, right?”

“Right,” Katie agreed grimly. “But all that means is that they were never meant to arrive. Somebody knew where they’d be going, and when. And I suppose, because you girls were cloak-and-dagger, that’s why Teal and Lena didn’t take a cab or catch a ride to the mall.”

The two girls, so different and yet in this moment so alike, exchanged a quick look. “Yeah,” Gabriella agreed. Suddenly, she didn’t sound nearly so sure of herself. “But—it wasn’t any big thing! Honest… It was just— Look, somebody was in trouble. We were trying to help.”

“Help how?” Katie pressed. “Why were they meeting this person?”

Melissa said, “Teal was going to give the guy money.”

Oh God. “How much money?”

“Not that much. A couple of hundred dollars,” Gabriella said defensively. “I told you, it wasn’t that big a deal!”

Katie cursed all the fates she could think of. She’d thought the kidnapping would turn out to be relatively simple, but the complications kept rolling in. The addition of this kind of money drop opened up all sorts of unwelcome possibilities, from blackmail to kidnapping to—although she couldn’t believe it—drugs. All fraught with danger, all involving professional criminals of one type or another, which didn’t ensure the girls’ safety by any means. Only that the situation would be far less easy to resolve.




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