Tough Justice: Trapped (Part 4 Of 8). Gail Barrett
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“That’s true.” She smiled at Mei, a sharp, dedicated agent Lara had come to consider a friend. They put in the same ungodly hours and shared the same no-holds-barred mentality when it came to fighting crime.
“But if that’s the case, which office?” Lara continued, a note of frustration seeping into her voice. “Here? The one in D.C.? And how many people is he going to target? One? A dozen? Will he use a sniper again? Order another kidnapping—or do something totally different this time?”
“You’re sure he didn’t give you any other clues?” her partner, Nick Delano, asked. He sat directly across from her at the table with his strong arms crossed, his shrewd gaze on hers. And she had the distinct impression that he knew she was keeping secrets, that there was more going on than she’d revealed.
“No, nothing. He just said he was glad that I was suffering.”
“Sick bastard,” Mei murmured.
“No kidding.” She took another gulp of coffee, hoping Nick would leave it at that.
But her partner was too good an agent—suspicious as hell and tenacious. And after the time they’d spent together, he was beginning to know her too well.
He leaned toward her from across the table, skepticism etched on his handsome face. “I don’t buy it. He used the word home. That’s got to mean something else, something a lot more personal than—”
A knock on the conference room door cut him off. Lara eased out her breath, grateful for the reprieve. She hated deceiving her team. She wished she could confess what had her so badly shaken and enlist their help. God knew, she could use every bit of input she could get. Moretti was a formidable enough enemy without hiding information that might yield new clues.
And she liked Nick. A lot. She trusted him and respected his opinion, despite that aura of danger that both unnerved her and turned her on. But that baby’s safety depended on keeping her existence secret. She couldn’t reveal that story to anyone, no matter how desperately she wanted to come clean. Only Victoria knew the truth.
“Anna’s here, so listen up.” Victoria paused with her hand on the doorknob, waiting until everyone looked her way. “We’re going to keep this brief. My daughter’s tough, but she’s been through quite an ordeal. She’ll make a statement, answer a few questions, and then she’s going back home to rest. Got it?”
Lara added her assent to the murmurs rising around the table as Victoria pulled open the door. Her daughter stepped inside, carrying a sheath of papers, and gave the team a tremulous smile. Her face was devoid of makeup, her eye a sickening blackish-purple, her long blond hair scraped back in a haphazard ponytail that made her look younger than her nineteen years. She wore tattered jeans and sneakers, and an oversized sweatshirt that added to her vulnerable look.
Victoria ushered her to a seat, then handed the papers to Nick. “Here are the sketches of the kidnappers the artist made. Take a look, see if either of these people looks familiar.”
Lara took a copy from the pile and passed the rest to Mei. The kidnappers were Caucasians in their twenties. Neither looked remarkable in any way. They both had mundane features. They both wore dark glasses that covered their eyes. The man had so much facial hair Lara knew he had to be wearing a disguise. In fact, the pictures strongly resembled the sketches made from the other students’ descriptions—and were too generic to do any good. Her hopes for a break in this case began to fade.
“Anyone know them?”
No one answered. Victoria tossed her copy on the table and sighed. “It’s not much to go on, I know. We’ll put them in the system and see if there are any hits.” But the odds were against it, as they all knew.
Victoria turned to her daughter and gave her a nod. “Whenever you’re ready, Anna. Just start at the beginning and tell us what you remember.”
“Okay.” The young woman nibbled her lip, looking more shaken now that the ordeal was over and the reality of the danger had settled in. “They came into my philosophy class about halfway through the lecture. They flashed their IDs, said they were FBI and needed to talk to me. I thought you’d sent them.” She shot her mother an apologetic look. “I should have called you and checked.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Victoria said. “None of this was your fault.”
No, it was hers. And everyone knew it. Lara fought back a wave of guilt.
“They took me to their SUV. It was black. When I got inside, they blindfolded me. There was someone in the seat behind me with a gun.” Her face paled even more. “I didn’t see him when I got in. I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention, but I thought they were taking me to a safe house like they said.”
“You did fine,” Victoria said. “You didn’t have any reason to suspect they were kidnapping you. And no one expects you to have seen everything. Just tell us what you remember. Sometimes the smallest things can help.”
Anna nodded and clasped her hands. “The two who got me out of class both had dark hair. The man had a beard and mustache, like in the picture. They kept their glasses on, so I never saw their eyes. But they didn’t look too old, maybe a few years older than I am, twenties, maybe thirty, tops. The woman was about my height, five-five. The man was a little taller, but not much. Maybe five-nine or-ten.”
“Did they have accents?” Mei asked. “Could you tell where they were from?”
“The man had a Jersey accent. It was really strong. But I don’t think the woman was from around here.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. She just sounded different, kind of like my friend Mary.” She looked at her mother. “You know, the one from Detroit? And she called soda pop.”
“So she’s probably Midwestern,” Lara said. Which didn’t help them much.
“What about the license plates on the SUV?” Victoria asked.
“I didn’t see them.”
“Any idea where they took you?”
“No, I couldn’t see.”
Nick leaned across the table toward her, his gaze intense. “How about the car ride? Could you tell how long you were in the SUV before you stopped? Or how long it took you to get to Central Park last night when they dropped you off?”
“Maybe half an hour? Maybe a little longer... I couldn’t really tell. It’s weird how when you’re blindfolded you can’t judge the time. And when they pulled that gun on me, my mind went blank. I started hyperventilating...”
“What about noises?” Nick persisted. “Did you hear anything unusual on the way?”
“Not really. Just sirens and horns, jackhammers, that sort of thing. Typical city sounds.”
“Did you go through a tunnel or over a bridge, anything that would have given the tires a different sound?”
She shot him a helpless look. “I don’t think so. But I don’t really know. I’m sorry. I was just so scared...”
“Don’t be,” Nick said, just as Victoria looked about to intervene. “It isn’t easy to stay calm in a situation like that. You did fine.”
She’d done more than fine, Lara thought, her respect for the young woman rising. Given her ordeal, she’d emerged in remarkably good shape. “Any idea where they kept you?” she asked.
“Not the location, no. But it was in an alcove studio apartment, just one small room and a bathroom. I figured it had been vacant for a while because the air seemed stale. You know how empty houses get? Maybe it was condemned. The wood floor was kind of slanted, and the balcony was boarded up. And the furniture was awful, really old and ugly. The sofa was an orange-and-brown plaid. And the kitchen was harvest gold.”
“How about