Into Thin Air. Mary Ellen Porter
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quiet for as long as possible. The less the kidnappers realize we know, the easier it will be to close in on them.”
“I understand. I won’t tell anyone.”
“It’s not as simple as that. The kidnappers are aware that you were shot. They could have followed the ambulance to the hospital. They could be waiting around, hoping to hear some information that will confirm your death or refute it.”
“Why would they bother? I saw them, but I don’t know who they are.”
“You’ve worked with law enforcement for years, Laney. You understand how this works. They tried to silence you to keep you from reporting what you witnessed. If they see that they failed, they may try again.”
“But is sticking around to kill me really worth the risk when they could just skip town with the kids and disappear?” That’s what she thought they’d do, but she wasn’t sure how clear her thinking was. Her head ached so badly, she just wanted to close her eyes.
“This trafficking ring is extensive,” Agent DeMarco explained. “We’ve had reports that the children are being transported overseas and sold into slavery. This is a multi-tier operation that isn’t just being run here in the United States. There are kids missing in Europe, in Canada, in Asia, and each time, the kidnappings occur in clusters. Five, six, seven kids from a region go missing, and then nothing.”
“Except families left with broken hearts and no answers,” Laney murmured, the thought of all those kids, all those parents and siblings, all those empty bedrooms and empty hearts making her heart ache and head pound even more.
“Right.” Agent DeMarco leaned forward, and Laney could see the black rim around his blue irises, the dark stubble on his chin. He had a tiny scar at the corner of his left brow and a larger one close to his hairline. He looked tough and determined, and for some reason she found that reassuring.
“Olivia’s abduction makes the third in this area,” Agent DeMarco continued, “but if their pattern holds, they plan to target more from the surrounding area before moving the kids.”
“It seems a safer bet for them to cut their losses and move on,” she said doubtfully.
“We’re talking money, Laney. A lot of it. Money is a great motivator. It can turn ordinary men into extraordinary criminals.”
“And kidnappers into murderers?”
“That, too.” He stood and paced across the room. “This is a business for them, with schedules to keep and deliveries to make. I’m certain the children are being held somewhere while they wait for prearranged transport out of the country. Moving them to another location would also risk exposure. You were shot tonight because they can’t afford any witnesses. They need to buy time to get their quota of children ready for delivery. With you dead or incapacitated, the immediate threat of exposure is gone.”
“So as long as they believe I died, it’s business as usual.”
Agent DeMarco nodded, returning to his chair, and leveling his gaze on her. “The longer it takes for the kidnappers to realize you survived, the better it will be for everyone.”
“Not for Olivia,” she pointed out, that image—the one of the girl, her eyes wide, begging for help—filling her mind again. She’d failed to save her, and that knowledge was worse than the pain in her head, worse than the nausea. “She’s terrified and alone. She doesn’t care who knows what. All she cares about is getting home.”
“You’re wrong. It does matter for Olivia,” Agent DeMarco responded. “There’s a chance that we can reunite Olivia with her family, but only if the kidnappers aren’t scared into moving early. All we have to do is find Olivia’s kidnappers, and we’ll find her. We’ll find them all.”
His words made her heart jump, and she was almost ready to spring up from the chair and start looking in every place they could possibly be. “Then why are we sitting here? Why aren’t we out searching for them?”
“Chief Andrews said you’d ask that,” he responded, a half smile curving his lips. “He told me to assure you that he has a K-9 team working the scene.”
But Laney knew they’d not find much. Olivia had been driven off in a van. Even her retired search dog, Jax, who had been one of the best air scent dogs in the country, wouldn’t be able to pick up her scent under those circumstances.
She recognized that, but still, she wanted to be in on the action in a way she hadn’t wanted to be since the accident that took her teammates’ lives. The accident that had prompted her to leave her search-and-rescue work behind and put Jax into early retirement. The thought stole some of her energy, and she sank back against the chair. “That’s good. If there’s something to find, they’ll uncover it.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. You’ve been working with them for a while?”
She had. For nearly two years now. She volunteered her time to ensure high-drive, problem dogs were given the chance to succeed. She’d helped train several dogs that had been like Murphy—problematic but with obvious promise. Although Kent made repeated offers to make her role with the department more permanent, she was reluctant to fall back into the stressful life of a contract employee. Besides, her own clients kept her busy enough. “Unofficially. I own a private boarding and training facility in Davidsonville. Murphy is the most recent in a line of MPD K-9s I’ve worked with.”
“Murphy.” His smile broadened. “He’s quite a dog.”
“He’s quite a problem child, but we’re working on it.”
“He came through for you tonight,” he pointed out.
“Yes. Though technically, he’s supposed to leave the vehicle only on command.”
“Well, in this case, it’s a good thing he didn’t.”
“I think seeing the gun set him off. We just started working with firearms last week, and he’s making good progress.” Better than she had hoped. She was pleased at how quickly Murphy was improving after being booted out of the MPD K-9 program once. He was a little high-energy and distractible, but he possessed the important shepherd traits—intelligence and loyalty.
Agent DeMarco smiled. “Andrews and the K-9 handlers certainly seemed happy the dog came through for you.”
She forced herself out of the chair, every muscle in her body protesting. “Speaking of which, I need to talk to Kent. I don’t suppose you have my things?”
“Purse? Cell Phone? House keys?”
“Yes.”
“They’ve been collected as evidence. Your Jeep was impounded, too. And your clothes—” his gaze dropped from her face to the cotton hospital gown “—were also taken as evidence.”
“I guess I’ll be flagging a taxi in this hospital gown,” she responded. She wasn’t going to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary. Her business was thriving. That meant plenty of work to do at the kennel. She was hoping that would keep her mind off her failures. She didn’t need to spend months mourning what she hadn’t been able to do for Olivia. She’d been down that path before, and it hadn’t led to anything but misery.
“Leaving in a hospital gown isn’t going to work. It’s a surefire way to get the wrong people’s attention. When you leave, we’re going to do everything possible to make sure no one notices you.”
“That’s going to be really difficult with—”
There was a sudden commotion outside the door, a flurry of movement and voices that had Agent DeMarco pivoting toward the sound.
“Stay there,” he commanded, striding toward the door and yanking it open.
His broad back blocked Laney’s view, and she moved closer, trying to see over his shoulder. A police officer stood in the doorway, back to the room.
“Ma’am,