Читать книгу Guardian Angel - Debra Webb - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Chicago The Colby Agency Wednesday 2:10 p.m.

Seated at the small conference table in Victoria Colby-Camp’s office, Ann Linker Martin’s full attention remained glued to the monitor on the credenza as a previously recorded newscast played. The reporter’s grim tone sent shivers spilling across Ann’s flesh even before the words penetrated her brain.

“According to Front Royal’s chief of police, little Jesse Duncan insists a man wearing a baseball cap took her from the house where she’d been held, then dropped her off at her own front door. As of this hour, the location where Jesse was held is still unknown. No official confirmation has been given, but residents of Front Royal are convinced that Jesse Duncan was rescued by the East Coast’s own Guardian Angel.”

Victoria pressed Off on the remote. “I’m sure this isn’t the first you’ve heard of this so-called Guardian Angel.”

“I’m very familiar with the story,” Ann confirmed. She’d grown up in the Baltimore area, had worked as a consultant to Baltimore’s FBI field office. Anything that went on in that territory was of specific interest to her. Six “Guardian Angel” rescues over the past two years had taken place in her hometown. “Considering the airtime this guy is getting,” she added, “it would be hard not to have heard of him.”

As happy as she was to hear that little Jesse Duncan had been rescued, promoting this man’s agenda was just wrong. Whoever he was, he was no Guardian Angel. Since when did angels wear baseball caps? And leave murder victims behind? He was a vigilante, pure and simple.

Guardian Angel was an unidentified suspect who had reportedly rescued around a dozen children in the past four years. Possibly more, possibly going back as far as ten years. The reports were scattered and inconsistent. But they all had one thing in common: the perpetrators of the crimes against the children were, more often than not, discovered dead in one manner or another.

The guy was probably nothing more than an urban legend, a story that picked up momentum after being aired by the media repeatedly. These so-called rescues could be the work of several people or even the original perpetrators of the crimes who’d had a change of heart, prompted by fear, and who hoped to avoid being caught. The one thread of consistency—the baseball cap he supposedly wore—could be an element the police unwittingly introduced to recently rescued victims. The whole world wanted to believe in a Guardian Angel…especially when it came to missing children.

But Ann, the weight of tension crushing down on her shoulders, knew from personal experience that no such creature existed. There were no Guardian Angels. Far too often it was luck of the draw whether a child was recovered after abduction. Without enough evidence, luck was all law enforcement had. Too many times that luck was bad. The odds of finding missing children grew slimmer with every passing hour after the abduction. A great many variables played a part in whether a child was recovered safely or not, but none of them included a Guardian Angel.

Despite this so-called hero’s intended good deeds, the man—if he even existed—was nothing more than a murderer himself, in her opinion. He’d get caught one of these days. Or he’d get dead when he encountered a more intelligent criminal. Justice should be left up to those carrying the official credentials.

“You don’t see this man as a hero,” Victoria suggested candidly.

Ann had her own reasons for finding that line of reasoning exasperating. But she wasn’t going there. The past was the past—far better left exactly there. “You want my honest opinion?” she asked just as candidly. When Victoria nodded, Ann admitted, “Based on what I’ve seen in the media, he’s just another killer, not a hero.”

Victoria glanced at the blackened monitor. “I’m certain the parents of those rescued children feel differently.”

Ann wouldn’t argue that point. She was immensely grateful that the children in each of these instances had been saved. But what kind of message were the man’s actions sending to the public? And what about all the other children? How did their parents feel? Why were some children rescued by this so-called angel and others not?

The only way to maintain civil order was to have laws. Vigilante justice was not the answer. Prevention was the key. More stringent laws, stronger punishments.

The apprehension started to tighten uncomfortably around her chest. She wasn’t in law enforcement, hadn’t really ever been. A consultant, as she’d learned the hard way, didn’t count. The sooner she stopped allowing her past to influence her decisions, the sooner she would get on with her future. She had to stop obsessing on things that didn’t matter anymore, had to focus on the reason she had been called to Victoria’s office this morning. It usually meant she was about to be assigned a new case.

Victoria rose and crossed to her desk. She retrieved a file folder, then returned to her seat at the small conference table. “Katherine Fowler and her family,” Victoria began as she opened the file, “live in an intimate upper-class community called Edgewater, an hour’s drive outside Baltimore.”

Ann wasn’t familiar with that particular neighborhood, but she knew the general vicinity. Very upscale.

“Four days ago,” Victoria continued, “her only child, Caroline, was abducted from the yard where she was playing not a dozen meters from her mother.” Victoria placed a photograph of a little girl on the table in front of Ann. “The FBI and the Arundel County deputies are working around the clock to solve the case. Unfortunately,” Victoria said as she placed a report next to the photo, “Caroline appears to be the sixth child in a string of abductions aptly dubbed the Fear Factor case. So far not a single child has been recovered.”

Definitely not good. Ann had read numerous articles on Fear Factor. The perpetrators watched for the perfect opportunity, preying on the mother for the ransom in each case.

“Did they use the bank scam for the money transaction?” It amazed her that these guys continued to get away with the same exact ploy. Were the local banks watching for this sort of transaction? Had they briefed their personnel as to what to look for in a stressed customer? Ann didn’t see how such a simple maneuver could continue unchecked. Obviously it had.

“According to the chief of police, it’s the same MO, down to the mother being left to wait for a call that never comes,” Victoria said, her own disbelief evident.

Ann studied the picture of the blond-haired child. No doubt this little girl’s mother had seen the news and on some level had recognized her daughter was a victim of the same perps as the other abductions in this case. But how did a mother risk her child’s life and go against the pattern? Say no to the kidnappers and go straight to the police?

She didn’t. And that was the one unwavering instinct the perps were banking on, no pun intended.

The worst part about this series of kidnappings was that so far the children hadn’t been recovered, period. No bodies. No nothing. Only an empty promise to deliver. One theory mentioned by the Bureau’s press representative was that the bad guys took the ransom and then sold the children for even more money. Why give up a negotiable asset? Why waste it? The prevailing thinking was that the perpetrators were not pedophiles. To the contrary, they appeared to be savvy businessmen. With an intimate knowledge of how the banking system worked and a burning desire to cash in on the world’s leading black-market trade—human trafficking. A shudder started deep down inside her, but Ann bullied it back into submission. Not going there.

“There’ve been no evidentiary discoveries to date?” Ann asked as she glanced over the report prepared by Arundel County.

“Not a single shred,” Victoria confirmed. “Nor is there anything that ties the different victims or their families together other than tax bracket.” Victoria’s gaze settled heavily onto hers then. “This is your specialty, Ann. You’ve worked with the Baltimore Bureau office. You’re the perfect choice for this assignment. Katherine Fowler wants her daughter back and she’s scared to death that the usual channels are not going to get the job done.”

For several seconds after Victoria stopped talking, Ann sat there unable to make an appropriate response.

Yes, she possessed the electronic-banking expertise and the experience with the Baltimore authorities. Those were the very skills that had gotten her noticed by the Bureau. The same Bureau that had ignored her warnings on that final case and caused the death of a child. Ann had sworn that she would never feel that helpless again. That was why she was here working in the private sector, away from all the bureaucratic crap. Working with the Colby Agency had helped her regain her self-confidence, her sense of purpose. It had made her feel capable of going out on that emotional limb of trusting her instincts once more.

Until now…maybe.

“You have a problem with taking this case, Ann?”

“No.” Ann laid the report aside and ordered a smile into place to cover the lie. “Absolutely not.” Even as she said the words, her stomach clenched.

“This is the highest-profile abduction yet,” Victoria noted with a pointed glance at the photo of Caroline Fowler. “That says one significant thing to me—”

“They’re getting braver,” Ann finished for her, resisting the urge to shift restlessly in her chair. Damn her inability to stop this infernal response. This was a case. Just a case. It wasn’t about her or her past.

“None of the law enforcement personnel already involved is going to be happy about your presence,” Victoria offered. “You’ll be treading into their territory, stepping on their toes.”

“I understand.” Ann folded her hands on the table in front of her. She particularly understood that she’d made a few enemies at the Bureau when she’d walked away. “What exactly does Mrs. Fowler want me to do that she believes the Bureau can’t?”

Victoria was a very elegant woman. Her dark, all-seeing eyes and coal-black hair streaked silver spoke of wisdom and years on this earth. She had built this agency with her own sweat and tears and a great deal more heartache than she would likely care to confess. But she never asked one of her investigators to do anything she wasn’t prepared to do herself. And yet somehow today she looked uncertain of the assignment she was about to give.

She couldn’t possibly know Ann’s secret. No one did.

“Six children have been wrenched away from their homes and not a single piece of evidence has been found. Katherine Fowler has every right to be concerned that her child will not be found. So—” Victoria exhaled a deep, worrisome sigh “—Mrs. Fowler has retained our agency to find the one man she is certain can rescue her daughter.”

Ann knew even before Victoria could say the words. “How am I supposed to do that?” This was a desperate mother grappling at straws. What she was asking would take days or weeks or longer—if it was even possible to lure this so-called Guardian Angel out of seclusion. Little Caroline Fowler probably didn’t have hours, much less days or weeks.

“I’m certain you’ll find a way,” Victoria insisted.

All Ann could do was give it her best shot. Even as the thought formed in her mind, she realized a dozen reasons she would fail before she even started. Her thoughts wandered to the guy with the baseball cap who rescued children from the worst possible situations. Not the guardian-angel persona the press had created but the man himself. No matter how you looked at it, the guy was still a murderer. She’d seen the sketches of him. The baseball cap and the ponytail of long hair were about all any of the kids ever remembered.

How did he choose the missing kids he intended to rescue? Was it about the ones he could find or did he have some sort of method or inside track even the police didn’t have?

The better question was, how the hell did she find him? What if it wasn’t one guy? Resolving that question could take weeks. Determination fired inside her. She would have to operate under the assumption this was indeed a lone perpetrator. If so, he definitely wasn’t a ghost or a phantom. He existed. Ate and slept like everyone else. Someone somewhere knew something. She didn’t believe in angels or spiritual guardians of any sort. Criminal or heroic, people were the ones who made things happen. And people made mistakes.

All she had to do was look for his mistakes.

Or maybe she’d just issue him an invitation.