The blackmailer had signed his name. He wanted Norman to know who he was. This was personal.
Vengeance with a capital V.
“Where’s your daughter, Senator?”
“Safe. No thanks to you.”
Insults would get them nowhere. “I can make arrangements for her protection.”
“She’s nine years old, Morgan.” Sweat pearled on the senator’s forehead. “You’re not going to traumatize her. My wife took her to her parents in Massachu—”
“Did you say nine-years-old?”
His face swollen and flushed, Norman abruptly stood up. He braced himself with his fists on his desk. “Are you deaf?”
Rich’s cool demeanor crumbled. No one insulted deaf people in his presence. He leaned forward over the desk and met the senator nose to nose. “The blackmailer is talking about a spunky teenage girl with a mean streak. Not a little girl. How many daughters do you have?”
“One...and four sons.” Sharing a physical similarity with a suddenly deflated balloon, the senator sat back down. “My oldest son is in Yale, his brother is in Stanford, and the twins are in boarding schools in California. I talked to all of them after I sent my wife and daughter away. They’re fine.”
If the five Norman children are accounted for, who did Serpent find on the Internet?
“Sly Serpent went through lots of trouble to hire a model that looks like you to snap the second picture. He wants to crush you like a vermin. This sounds like revenge.”
“That Serpent hasn’t tasted
my
revenge yet.” Fury swirled in the senator’s eyes, instantly wiping out his defeated look. “I need to issue a statement before he publishes the pictures or they’ll damage my reputation and endanger my marriage.”
Rich resisted the temptation to tell the senator he was solely responsible for the first photo. “I need a list of your enemies.”
“Grab the phonebook, Morgan. They should all be in there.”
If not for the innocent teenage girl whose fate might be in Serpent’s hands, Rich would have been tempted to drop the case. “What do you think he meant by
the Internet made it so easy to find your daughter
?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Shrugging off the question, the senator gripped a pen and scribbled on a post-it note.
“A teenage girl’s life might be in danger, Senator. A teenage girl that Serpent believes to be your daughter.” Rising to his full height, Rich towered over Norman’s head. “Time to level with me. Do you have another daughter that your wife knows nothing about?”
“I resent those ludicrous accusations.” The senator’s jaw hardened and his face turned a dark shade of blood. “Do you think a man in my position would be stupid enough to father a child out of wedlock?”
The senator had been stupid enough to kiss a woman on an outdoor bridge and get caught. To think Norman could get one pregnant wasn’t much of a stretch.
“Accidents can happen. I doubt the woman on the bridge was your only indiscretion.”
“It was a friendly walk, Morgan. Are we done here?”
“No, we’re not.” The senator might not care about the teenage girl, but Rich did. He proceeded quoting the email. “
Did you forget to get rid of her? Was she too precious? Her blood, like the blood of all the others, will be on your hands.
Whose blood did you spill, Norman?”
“That’s
Senator
Norman for you. And that’s character assassination. I won’t sit here and let you insult me with your despicable allegations while that man is trying to ruin my life. Get out and get him, or I’ll make sure your career as sheriff ends just as abruptly as your career as special agent did.”
***
Once he returned to his cruiser, Rich called Eve on her cell phone. It rang. Once. Twice. Again. And again.
Unless she was driving, Eve usually answered by the third ring. Rich had hoped to catch her before she headed for home. As he readied to terminate the call, huffing and panting resonated in his ear.
“Eve? Is that you? Are you all right? Where are you?”
“There’s a basketball bouncing on my bladder, Morgan.” Her breathing had decelerated to a low whooshing. “Where do you think I was?”
The mental picture adequately answered his question. “Home or the office?”
“Office.”
Good, because he would have hated to disturb her at home. “I just had an aggravating discussion with the senator.”
Aside from a few unsavory adjectives directed at Norman, Eve didn’t interrupt his account until he finished.
“You believe him when he says he doesn’t have a teenage daughter?”
“No, which is why I want you to dig into his personal finances. If he has other children, he’s probably paying for them.”
If only to keep the mother—or mothers—quiet.
“That teenage girl could live anywhere in the country or the world. You also want to cross reference with the girls reported missing in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Do you have any idea how many kids go missing every day? It’s like searching for a pickle in a field of—never mind. Anything else?”
“I’m going back to the training center. Make sure you go home at a decent hour for a change. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter Seven
Richmond’s split-level home offered a sharp contrast with the mansion in which Amelia had gotten lost searching for a bathroom.
“This is cozy.”
And unpretentious.
His true personality shone throughout the house. The transformation mystified her.
“I’m glad you approve.” With a sweep of his hand, he invited her to sit at the kitchen table. “Do you still like chili? I made a batch a few days ago. It should still be good.”
Eating chili and fresh buns while watching sappy movies had once ranked among her favorite dates. “Chili is fine.”
After he picked her up at Snowy Tip, Richmond had insisted she eat something, but she was already full.
Full of worries.
Hoping he’d drop her off at the sheriff’s office where her rental car was parked, she’d refused his invitation to go to a restaurant.
I should have known better.
The man was stubborn—that much hadn’t changed.
“Would you please sit and pretend to work up an appetite?” He pulled out a bowl from the refrigerator. “I shouldn’t need to remind you that collapsing at my feet won’t help your daughter.”
The remark whipped through the oppressive mist clouding her mind, dispersing a layer. “You need to work on your hospitality. That’s no way to treat a guest.”
A fleeting shadow flew across his face. “I stopped entertaining guests a while ago.”
“What about your parents?”
He punched the
start
button on the microwave. The words floated between them, loud and ominous amidst the humming of the oven.
Stirring the past served no purpose, but the last few days had weakened her emotional wall. The acerbic question had flown through the cracks, something Amelia wouldn’t have allowed in normal times.
Downhearted and despondent, she slumped on a chair. Her world was falling part, and she was powerless to stop it. “That was unwarranted, Richmond. I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be, not when I deserve it for acting like a coward.” A touch of melancholy laced the apology together. “My father is dead and I lost contact with my mother. Montana is not on her destination hotlist. That’s one of the reasons I moved here.”
A buzzer resonated in the room, followed by a click. The spicy aroma rose in the air. He placed a bowl of steaming chili and a spoon on a placemat in front of her.
“It smells delicious.” The first spoonful awoke her taste buds. “I’d forgotten how good you were in an apron.”
A sly smile wrinkled the corners of his eyes. “Who would have thought I’d still impress you after twenty years?” Of the three available chairs around the table, he chose the one to her left, closest to the sink. “Once you’re done, you can go take a long bath. It’ll help you sleep tonight. We’ll resume the search of the mountains at dawn.”
“I don’t take baths in hotel rooms.” If the motels with vacancy signs were as decrepit in the inside as they looked on the outside, she might end up sleeping in her car.
“We’re a week away from Christmas, Amelia. At this time of year, all the decent hotels and resorts are booked solid. The only motels with available rooms are rented by the hour, sometimes by the minute. We raid them at least once a month. You’re not staying there, not when I have a spare bedroom at your disposal.” His penetrating gaze heated up in a silent warning not to challenge him. “This isn’t negotiable, Colonel.”
This is inappropriate. In more than one sense.
Every excuse Amelia found to refuse his offer was counterbalanced by a reason to accept it. In the end, the balance swung in his favor.
“I’ll stay. Under one condition.”
“Name it.” He’d shown no hesitation.
“You were the rising star of the Bureau, Richmond. Rumor had your name on the director’s door.” Some of Amelia’s fellow officers had dealt with him. Richmond’s reputation transcended the FBI. In some inner circles, he was as respected as he was feared. “I’m curious to know why you quit?”
“I see you didn’t buy my fresh air excuse. That’s good. I was starting to fear you’d lost your edge. For the record, I wasn’t lying when I said I have the best deputies.”
His reaction threw her for a loop. When he resumed eating without elaborating further, she made a mental note of filling up on gas. She didn’t want the heater to stop in the middle of the night.
“That was enlightening.” Even the Army wasn’t that cryptic. “I guess I’m sleeping in my car tonight.”
“Wrong guess.” He toyed with his spoon over his half-eaten bowl. “The suspect worked as a janitor in a school for deaf children. He’d planned on detonating a bomb in a nearby government office. When it failed to explode, he fled to the school. He took seven children hostage in a classroom and removed all their transmitters so they wouldn’t be able to hear us if we yelled instructions. One of the girls...Libby was her name. She was one smart and courageous fourteen-year-old. She used her tablet to send us a visual feed.” Pride coated his every word. “She was our eyes—and our ears.”
A young girl with a disability had earned his respect and given him an insight into Hope’s world. The ironic twist of fate moistened Amelia’s eyes. “Go on, but don’t tell me she died. I don’t think I could bear that tragedy right now.”
“No...no children died.” He dipped the spoon in his bowl. “The man was a suspected terrorist. I was in charge, but another agency wanted a piece of the action. I’ll let you guess which one.”
The name of a few agencies swirled in Amelia’s mind. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re all bad news.” She didn’t trust any of them.
“Yes, they are. In any case, I was in charge of the joint operation. My priority was the safety of the children. Unknown to me, some of the men placed under my command had been given a different objective. To capture the suspect alive. At any cost.”
They’d wanted the bomber alive so they could interrogate him about future plots.
The needs of the many against the needs of the few.
A dilemma Amelia had faced more than once. “Let me guess, all hell broke loose?”
“That’s an understatement. The suspect used Libby as a human shield. She bit his forearm. Hard. He tossed her on the ground. A hail of bullets flew across the classroom. Libby was struck in the back.” A solemn veil befell over the table. “The bravest kid I’ve ever met will never walk again.”
Tears stung behind her eyelids. The teenage girl reminded Amelia of her own daughter. “It wasn’t your fault, Richmond.”
“Maybe not my fault, but still my responsibility.” In his line of work—and hers—the distinction blended together, bringing no comfort. “Can you believe the FBI gave me a commendation for saving all the children? The other agency was pissed off he died. I was disgusted.”
“I can’t blame you.” Though she never set foot in that classroom, Amelia felt the same way.
“To my mother’s outrage and abhorrence, I took the money I inherited from my father and placed it in a trust fund for Libby. My only regret is not severing my family ties twenty years ago. It would have saved me a lifetime of heartache.” His gaze, which had seemed directed inwardly during the account, focused on her. The tragedy had changed him—for the better. “I quit the Bureau the day Libby was released from the hospital. Anything else you’d like to know?”
Yes, but the day she betrayed him, Amelia lost the right to probe his heart. It appeared they’d both been condemned to the same life sentence.
“You looked frustrated when you picked me up at the training center. Would you like to talk about it?” To stop the dark thoughts invading her brain from eating her soul, Amelia needed a diversion to occupy her mind.
“I have a blackmailing snake. A sleazy politician. A kidnapping victim. And no solid lead.” He swallowed a spoonful of chili. “This is one twisted case. Are you sure you want to hear about it?”
“Yes.” Her sanity depended on it.
***
The floor creaked, rousing Rich from his slumber.
As he scanned his bedroom, his eyes quickly adapted to the darkness. A shadow crossed the doorway before silently disappearing down the corridor.
Amelia?
Except for brief intervals during which he’d deluded himself into thinking he’d fallen in love, Rich had lived alone. A light sleeper, he kept his bedroom door open. If anyone ventured into his house, he wanted to be alerted right away.
Red and orange speckles shimmered in the corridor, prompting him to investigate the source. The wooden floor was cold under his bare feet and goose bumps rose onto his skin. He’d slipped an undershirt on but hadn’t bothered rummaging through his dresser for a decent pair of pajama pants. Cramped in barracks during training, Amelia had undoubtedly seen her share of men and women in boxers and camisoles.
The gas fireplace had been turned on and the fan hummed in the living room, warming up the air. Wrapped in his indigo blue bathrobe, Amelia stood by the front window, her reflection lost in the dark landscape behind the glass.