Forced Disappearance (19 page)

She paused. Closed her eyes. “He was with a little girl, six or seven years old. I saw her pass out”—Miranda’s voice broke—”while he was laboring above her.” Quick breath. “I told him to stop. He said, ‘When I’m done.’ He kept on going. ‘Stand down, soldier. That’s an order.
’
 ”

She drew another ragged breath. “I told him he was done. And when he didn’t stop, I pulled my service revolver and shot him in the head.” Her shoulders collapsed with the last word. She looked spent, broken, shattered.

Holy shit.

Disjointed thoughts pinged around in Glenn’s head like atoms in a nuclear fission chain reaction, one thing pushing its way to the forefront: the knowledge of what had happened to Miranda’s daughter.

What that moment at the brothel must have been like for her. Just . . .
Jesus.

Sympathy coursed through him, and anger, frustration. He wanted to kill the bastard all over again. He wanted to go back in time. He wanted whatever supernatural powers it would take to free Miranda from the crushing pain that clearly had her in chains.

He wrapped the blanket around his waist and went to her, dropped to his knees in front of her, tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away, drew back from him.

“I should be in military prison.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes begging him to understand. “But the army didn’t want a scandal. They released a cover story that the CO was attacked and killed by local criminals while on duty. He got a posthumous medal. His widow and his kids don’t know the truth to this day. As far as they know, the man was a true hero. His hometown named a playground after him.” Sheer misery crept across her face. “So I can’t even apologize to anyone.”

He took her hands, needing the contact. Her fingertips were ice cold. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” She pulled her hands back and held herself rigid, as far from him as the chair allowed. “I want to take my punishment, but nobody will give it to me. I want to pay the price for my action, so maybe someday I can get absolution.”

At last, he understood the times when she’d withdrawn, the times when he’d caught that hollow look in her eyes. She’d lost her husband, then she’d lost her daughter, then she was put in a situation where her worst nightmare played out right in front of her eyes. Too much. It would have broken anyone.

He could see the cracks now, and they scared him to death. He didn’t want her to break, he couldn’t stand the thought of it, the thought of the enormous pain she was holding in.

“You did nothing wrong,” he said, in a harsher tone than he’d meant. He tempered his voice as he continued. “The bastard deserved to die. If you ask me, he died too easily.”

He would have done anything to take the burden of guilt from her. He refused to move away. “You did nothing wrong,” he repeated. “Do you hear me?”

But she shook her head. “I had no right to be judge, jury, and executioner.”

“You saved that little girl’s life.”

“I don’t know if I did. I was put on a plane back to the States the same day. Nobody would tell me anything about her.”

Her face etched with agony, he could see now what she carried, day after day, could finally understand what tremendous energy it took to keep everything bottled up, secured behind walls, and still keep functioning, going about her work.

“Then you saved the bastard’s next victim. And the next. He was a predator. He would have done it again.”

Nobody should witness the rape of a child; nobody should have to make a decision in the heat of such a horrible, desperate moment. And sure as hell nobody should be blamed if she did what Miranda had done.

She stood, turning from his arms when he tried to hug her. She kept moving away, putting distance between them. “Would you mind going back to your room? I’d like some time alone. I want to get dressed. I need a moment of privacy.”

Leaving her alone went against every instinct he had. But she had asked, so he would go. He needed her in his arms. Regardless, he would give her what
she
needed.

But they were far from done talking about this.

He strode to the door. Looked back. Tried to think up something to help her.

Her smile was heartbreakingly sad as she spoke. “Quit thinking determined thoughts. This is not a geometric problem you can solve with the right tools and the right equation. You are going to high places. I have a past that can’t go there with you.”

“Engineers don’t believe in unsolvable problems,” he warned her.

Chapter 16

ONE WEEK LATER

MIRANDA WOVE THROUGH
rush-hour D.C. traffic as she headed into work, trying not to think of Glenn. She hoped he was all right, that
he’d
hired the best private detective money could buy to figure out who’d set him up. She hadn’t seen him since they’d returned to the US. She’d barely gotten back to the office before she’d been sent to Mexico to look for a pair of missing teenagers.

She’d tracked them to Tijuana. They’d decided to give up college and stay down there to party for the rest of their lives. To their parents’ relief, she was able to convince them to return home and rethink their life strategies.

Back to work, she was ready for her next case. She parked in the underground parking garage. Michael, the homeless vet she’d met weeks ago on the corner, no longer sat on the grass. He was working at the veterans’ assistance agency and living in a group home. She loved seeing his spot empty. Made her feel like progress was being made. She crossed the street, went through security, and took the elevator down to the basement.

General Roberts was in, she registered as she walked through the doors. He waved at her as soon as he saw her, gesturing for her to come into his office. He’d been overseas when she’d returned from Caracas. Since she’d only had the phone interview, she’d never seen him in person before.

“Sir.”

The man, tall and lean, stood and greeted her, sharp eyes, unreserved smile. “Karin says you’re shaping up to be an excellent investigator. I had no doubt.” The overhead light glinted off his closely shaved head.

“Thank you, sir.”

“If there’s anything you need, you just let me know.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man nodded. She took that as a dismissal and stepped toward the door.

But he said, “I’m glad that you came on board. I was impressed with your service record. I knew you’d be a great addition to the team.”

Did he know the full truth of why she’d left the army? She didn’t want to live a lie. So she filled her lungs and said, “There’s something you should probably know about me, sir.”

He lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Are you going to do your best in this job?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s all I need to know.”

She hesitated.

He cleared his throat. Measured her up. Then he seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Close the door and take a seat.” He waited until she did so. “A decade or so ago, when I was a colonel, I had a young officer under my supervision. Lieutenant Lester.”

She stiffened at the mention of the name.

“I had a complaint from a female soldier about Lieutenant Lester behaving inappropriately. No proof, no witnesses, a her-word-against-his type of thing, and there were rumors that the two had a relationship that ended badly, giving way to hard feelings. The lieutenant had a spotless record up to that point, something I was reluctant to destroy. Instead of charging him officially for conduct unbecoming, I transferred him.”

He paused as her mind reeled. But he went on after a moment. “I made a mistake. The way he ended up is just as much my fault as anybody else’s.”

“You’re not responsible for what he did, sir.”

“Then what happened wasn’t your fault either.” He folded his knobby hands on the desk in front of him. “No explanation of your past conduct is necessary. I’m sorry you were put in a situation where you had to deal with him. As far as I’m concerned, the incident needs no further discussion.”

The unconditional absolution left her stunned. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

She blinked hard as she stood and walked out of the man’s office.

The general’s words were nothing like the army saying, nothing happened because we can’t publicly admit what happened. She couldn’t fully accept this sudden absolution, not yet, but it loosened some of the old tightness inside her. There were people she respected, the general and Glenn, who knew what she’d done and accepted her with that knowledge.

She felt twenty pounds lighter as she walked back to her desk, but before she had a chance to think more about the general’s words, Karin forwarded her a call from another investigator in the field.

Paul Mitchard needed passenger logs for a flight from Moscow to Calcutta. He was trying to track down a human rights activist who’d gone missing a week ago. Miranda tackled the task, working through the maze of bureaucracy to receive the necessary permissions.

By the time she finished, mid-afternoon, a new case came in. The nephew of the state attorney general disappeared in Hong Kong, where he was studying marine biology. Miranda accepted the case, downloaded the files, and asked Elaine to make the travel arrangements.

“There’s a flight tonight. Might as well go home to pack,” Elaine called back from her desk a few minutes later.

Miranda finished up some emails, then headed home. She was packing her suitcase when her phone rang. She glanced at the display and her heart skipped a beat.

“I thought I’d check on you,” Glenn said as she took the call, the sound of his voice sending tingles down her spine. “How have you been?”

Missing you.
“Busy with work. How are things on your end?”

She winced as the words left her mouth. Weren’t they polite? She hated that they sounded like distant friends, but nothing else was possible.

“I was thinking about coming down to D.C. tonight. I’m heading over to our R & D lab right now. Then there’s a really late meeting. I was going to skip that, but Cesar just tipped me off that it’s a surprise party, the managers putting something together to commemorate my recent adventures and officially celebrate my return. But after that, I want to drive down and see you. I need to talk to you.”

“I’m leaving for Hong Kong. I’m working a new case.” She wanted to see him, desperately, but what would be the point? To keep meeting with him would be like picking at a wound, never letting it heal. They had no future. She could bring him nothing but trouble.

“Bad timing,” he said after a long pause.

She forced herself to sound steady as she asked, “Any new clues on who set you up?” Being back at work while knowing that someone in his immediate surroundings had betrayed him, wanted him dead, had to be difficult. She’d been thinking about that, about him, a lot this past week.

“The investigators I hired cleared the secretarial staff. And our industry rivals. Right now we’re looking at a vocal environmentalist group that might have hacked our server. They published some confidential memos to throw dirt on us in the media. If they had that, they might have had my travel arrangements and meeting schedule.”

“Sounds like a promising lead.” She wished she could be part of the investigation, but that wasn’t how her job worked. She was strictly retrieval, and that part of the job had been accomplished.

“I want to see you when you come back,” he said.

“My schedule is pretty crazy.”

She couldn’t see him. There could never be anything serious between them. It hurt to stay away from him, but to have him in her life while knowing that there could never be more than the most superficial friendship, would kill her. What was it her mother used to say?
A painful end is better than endless pain.

Miranda swallowed hard. Bad enough that she’d stupidly fallen in love with him all over again. The first time around, she’d given him up for her own sake, to make a life of her own without the influence and limitations of his powerful family. Now, the second time around, she was going to give him up for his sake. So her past wouldn’t hold back the success story that he could be.

“I need to focus on my new job right now,” she told him.

The pause on the other end was even longer this time. “I’m coming down,” he said at last, the words coming slowly, carefully. “You can give me half an hour.”

He hung up before she could protest.

She clenched her jaw. She had to make him understand that a relationship between them couldn’t work. She braced herself for the conversation, knowing she’d have to say whatever it took to make him walk away. Even if it’d kill her.

She packed her clothes, shoes in one outer pocket, toiletries in the other, fleeting thoughts nagging in the back of her mind.

She was done with packing and in the shower when the disjointed thoughts that barely floated on the surface of her consciousness suddenly snapped into place as she looked at the clothespins that held her shower curtain. The glass door had no glass, and the super was slow having it installed. She used what she had on hand to make the shower functional in the meanwhile.

We use the tools we have.

One of the cardinal rules of engineering and innovation. Take something that you have and make it work.

How many times had she done that in her life? How many times had they done that while trying to escape?

So someone wanted Glenn out of the way. And that someone had Venezuela in his tool box. He used what he had. He knew the system enough to know who to call. He knew what would happen to Glenn.

She could think of only one person in Glenn’s immediate circle who had a working knowledge of Venezuela, who was from Venezuela in fact.
Cesar Montilla
.

She’d discounted him for two reasons: the Venezuelan government was his enemy, and she couldn’t think of anything he’d gain by Glenn’s death. And yet . . . If he did want Glenn out of the way for some reason . . .
We use the tools we have.

Her heart raced suddenly. Glenn was on his way to meet the man, at the company, after hours. Did anyone else know about that welcome back party?

She jumped from the shower and, dripping on the carpet, tried to call Glenn. He didn’t pick up. He was probably in his car, driving to the meeting.

She rubbed a towel over her body and hair in a rush, jumped into her clothes, then ran like hell for her car. She could be in Maryland in under an hour.

But would that be fast enough?

Cesar was making his move to remedy the fact that Glenn had returned from Venezuela in one piece. If she was right, Glenn was on his way to be murdered.

Glenn’s first clue that something was off was that the roof was empty of people. No roof party. Instead of tables, the helicopter stood on the helipad, the rotors in motion.

He glanced at his cell phone as he let the elevator door close behind him. He had a couple of missed calls from Miranda. Probably calling to tell him not to come to D.C.

He dropped the phone back into his pocket. He was driving down and they were going to talk. She was going to hear him out. He didn’t care about her past, and he wasn’t leaving her tonight until he found a way to make her understand that.

Plus, he had news for her. News she would want to hear. He’d been working on a little surprise for her.

Cesar walked from behind the chopper, keeping his head down. “You’re here.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Glenn asked. Both of them had their pilot licenses. Maybe the party was on a boat, part of the surprise. Cesar was a boat guy. He owned a hundred-footer, albeit without a helipad.

But instead of responding to his question, once Cesar was far enough away from the helicopter to straighten, he reached into his suit and pulled out a handgun. He pointed it at Glenn without hesitation.

“Toss the phone. Walk toward the chopper.” Cesar moved to the side.

Glenn threw his cell phone a couple of feet and took a few steps forward. The rotors weren’t going at full speed, but spun fast enough to produce a wind that flapped his suit jacket and blew his hair back from his face. He kept his eyes on his old friend, feeling confused and betrayed. “Why?”

The man scowled. “You left Victoria.”

“She asked for the divorce.” Glenn tried to inject some reason into the conversation that had his mind reeling.

“Because you couldn’t love her. My daughter wasn’t good enough for you.” Cesar’s expression darkened.

“She wasn’t in love with me either.”

“She would have done as I told her,” Cesar snapped. “But you couldn’t be a decent husband.”

“And what does killing me solve?”

“I’m marrying Gloria.”

The news knocked Glenn back. But in an instant, he could see the whole plot. The way Cesar had always been there for Gloria. Gloria coming to depend on him more and more over the years, increasingly leaning on his advice.

At company functions where she was the hostess, Cesar had been the host since Oscar Danning’s death. He’d been the other founding member, Oscar Danning’s best friend and business partner, the vice president of Danning Enterprises.

But he wanted more.

Understanding dawned on Glenn at last. He’d been too focused on growing the business, taking the core team for granted. If he’d paid more attention back at home instead of looking outside the borders . . . He should have seen this coming.

His hands fisted at his side. “You want the whole company.”

Cesar’s eyes glinted with a cold gleam. “It should be mine. The idea was mine.”

“Yours and my father’s.”

“Mine first.” The man shrugged. “But he did expand on it.”

“And provided financing.”

“He had family money. I was just starting out. We should have had equal ownership, but your grandfather wouldn’t commit the money unless I agreed to a twenty-five, seventy-five percent split. I was a minority stockholder from the beginning. All the power, all the big decisions were his.”