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  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s time to grow up and be a real man.”

  He looked away for a second. Maybe he was pondering what that meant.

  “Start walking.” I motioned for him to continue down the dirt-and-rock road, away from the interstate.

  “Walk where?”

  “Hold on. First, take off your underwear and throw them in the back seat.”

  “You want them as some type of trophy? This is fucked up.”

  “In a lot more ways than you realize. Just do it, Bruce.”

  Again, he complied.

  “Okay, now start walking.”

  He shuffled away for about twenty feet and then said, “You going to shoot me in the back?”

  “Keep walking, Bruce. Everything will be fine as long as you keep walking.”

  “So you’re going to leave me out here? There are coyotes, you know.”

  “I’m confident you can defend yourself.”

  “So you’re just going to drive off?”

  “Eventually. But I might come back to make sure you’re not walking back to the interstate.” I imagined how that would look to drivers, seeing a naked man in handcuffs waving at them from the side of the highway. I knew, eventually, he’d make his way back to the police station. From there, I wasn’t sure if Bruce would relay the true story. It might be too embarrassing for him to reveal. But by then, I would hopefully be in Vegas and have the girls with me.

  I waited until I could barely see him in the distance. “Good luck, Bruce,” I shouted. “Remember, think about what you need to do to become a good man, a good husband.”

  “Who are you—the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

  I didn’t bother responding. I motored away with Bruce’s gun in my car. We’d have to see if this Scrooge was going to have to kill someone to get her daughter back.

  15

  Ivy

  I jogged so fast through the massive corridor inside the San Antonio Convention Center, I literally ran out of one of my heels. I ran back and tried to put it on while moving. It wasn’t working.

  A man, who was carrying a tray of used dishes, stopped next to me. “Are you here for the—”

  “Yes, yes. Tell me I’m not too late.”

  His eyes drifted to the ceiling for a moment. “Okay, you’re not too late.”

  I finally got my shoe on. “Are you just telling me that?”

  He shrugged. “I just told you what you wanted to hear. You can see for yourself.”

  Dammit. I hopped twice, attempting to slip my shoe back on—I didn’t want Saul to think I’d put my work over him. I’d told him I would make it in time.

  Maybe I missed the dinner but hopefully not the awards.

  A rush of positive energy flowed through me. I leaned over, took off my other heel, and jogged to the last door on the left side. I opened it just as people came streaming out. Lots of chuckles and back-slaps. Everyone was talking. A few of the men had loosened their ties. I saw two women make a beeline toward the restrooms. It was obvious, though, that the whole banquet had ended. I tried to push my way through, but it was like swimming—flailing, actually—upstream. I say that only because I can’t swim. Another story for another day.

  I was elbowed and bumped—not on purpose, of course. People were in their own worlds. I then spotted a woman carrying a crystal award. She was gleaming with pride. A man, probably her husband, leaned in and kissed her cheek, adding, “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could make this business work. You’re my hero.” She put a hand to the side of his face, stretched her smile even wider, and they walked past me.

  Sigh.

  The number of people was endless. Who knew the annual Chamber of Commerce Awards Banquet was so popular? Not me. Frustrated I couldn’t find Saul, I climbed onto a chair and rotated until I spotted him. He was talking to two men. He was laughing while— Wait a second. I blinked, refocused my sights. He was holding one of those crystal awards.

  Double dammit!

  Jumping off the chair, I was both ecstatic and disheartened. Could someone actually feel both emotions at the same time?

  I pushed my way through the loiterers and practically tackled Saul. “Congratulations!” I said, giving him a wet kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh, hey,” he said.

  I grabbed the trophy out of his hand. “You could lift weights with this sucker.”

  “Ivy—”

  “I’m so sorry I missed your big moment. Lots to catch you up on, but I was here in spirit.”

  I could feel the eyes of the other men. My little black dress again? They introduced themselves. They had the same last name. They looked very similar—thick, curly hair, same height and build. “You guys are twins?”

  “They are,” Saul said. “And I was just congratulating them for winning the award for Best New Law Firm.”

  I cleared my throat, giving me an extra second to replay what had just happened. Yep, I confirmed it. I was a complete fucking moron.

  “Sorry,” I said, inadvertently making it sound like a question.

  “It’s okay,” the twin on the left said. “Hey, Saul’s got us beat. Neither of us has a beautiful woman running in here to congratulate us.”

  “Yeah,” said the one on the right. “We’re married to our jobs. That’s probably how we won this award.” He looked at his brother. “We need to get a life, man.”

  I handed back the trophy and the twins walked off.

  “Tell me I didn’t completely embarrass you after missing the banquet that I told you I wouldn’t miss,” I said, putting a hand to my forehead.

  Saul wrapped his arm around my waist. “Just to know that you care means a lot.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

  “If they gave out an award for Worst Girlfriend, I would have won by a unanimous vote. Damn, I’m sorry, Saul. When I saw you holding the award, I was happy-sad.”

  He looked perplexed.

  “Happy that you won, sad that I wasn’t here.”

  A slow nod.

  “And then I double the mistake by acting like an idiot in front of the twins.”

  “Eh. They basically threw it in my face, kind of forcing me to hold their great award.”

  “Assholes,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “Who needs them?”

  “Who needs that stupid award, either?” Saul said, jumping on my bandwagon.

  I took him in my arms and gave him a big smooch. I could hear a few oohs and ahhs from people walking by. I paid them no attention.

  A few seconds later, we finished our kiss. “Is this the same timid Ivy Nash I met when I ran into you at a drink machine?” he asked.

  “Technically, yes. But do you recall asking me out at the same time you were handing me papers stating that I was being sued by your client?”

  “Not really my client. Ross’s client. Ross being the asshole I used to work for.”

  “How could I forget?”

  I hooked my arm around his, and we strolled out of the banquet hall, mixing in with the horde of banquet attendees.

  “So, how did it go with the kidnapper?” he asked.

  “You sure you want me to spoil your night?”

  “What night? I lost, remember. Besides, this glitzy stuff doesn’t really matter. Well, then again, I could have used the award as a great PR tool, maybe put a picture of me on a few billboards holding the crystal trophy…”

  I knew he was kidding. I goosed his ribs, and he jerked his elbow. I could feel the air of his arm swooshing by as it barely avoided ramming my nose. “Wow, I almost thought that was payback for me missing your big night,” I said.

  “Very funny. So, give me the scoop.”

  I did. It took so long to share the Gerald Bailey story, we’d trudged through the convention center and made it all the way to the back of the parking garage. When I finished, he didn’t say anything. He just looked out across the city. The San Antonio skyline wasn’t spectacular by any means, but it was on the rise. “What do you think
?” I asked.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You think Gerald is telling the truth?”

  I pursed my lips. “It’s hard to say. Maybe some of it. Maybe most of it. I don’t know. I’ve been going back and forth ever since he left the interrogation room. He certainly doesn’t seem like a guy who would kidnap or harm his child.”

  “From what you said, though, he painted his wife as a pretty horrible person.”

  “The way he said it, though… I don’t know. I sensed that he was breaking apart inside. The whole thing—his wife’s addiction, her crazy behavior, his fear for his daughter, that crazy guy who showed up at the house. And then, of course, there’s his other daughter who’s supposedly living out in California. Or not. I mean, if you could have seen his face…”

  He turned and looked at me. “You really think that a nurse—”

  “Former nurse. And don’t be fooled by her job, Saul. Gerald works in IT. He didn’t look like your typical Amber Alert culprit.”

  “Right, don’t judge a book by its cover. I get it. I just know that some domestic issues are so…”

  “Complicated?”

  “Beyond complicated. Both parties claim ownership to one hundred percent of the truth, and usually both are lying, at least a bit. They want the other person to look as bad as possible while making themselves look like white knights. It’s all a precursor to a big custody battle. And some of these people can really put on a show.”

  I smacked his butt, just to get his attention.

  “Hey, what’s that for?”

  “I’ve been around too, you know.”

  “You’re right. I’m not questioning your judgment. Just sharing what I’ve seen. I represent men and women, and at times, the whole thing sickens me, to see people who supposedly were in love going after each other.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “But you think this is different.”

  I nodded. “Mostly. I just know if I ignore it, then what if it’s true? What if that little girl is in danger? And what about his other daughter, Angel? God knows what could be going on in California.”

  “You’re going to visit the mom, aren’t you?”

  I smirked.

  “You were going to go before you brought it up to me.”

  “Maybe. I just needed to talk it out.”

  “Glad I’m a good sounding board, anyway.”

  “Oh, you’re good for more than that.”

  He leaned in for a kiss. Before his lips landed, I opened my car door. “You’ve got your own car. First one home gets dibs.”

  He stood there with his arms open. “Dibs on what?”

  “Exactly.”

  16

  Alex

  With the golden glow of dawn nipping at the horizon, I drove the car toward the compound. I planned to do a single drive-by, find a place about five miles out where I could park my car, and then put in the call to Carter.

  After leaving Officer Bruce Massey naked and walking in the wilderness, I’d been fortunate to make the last leg of this trip without incident. I’d even passed two police cars, and while anxiety gripped my insides each time, they drove by and never paid me any attention.

  My guess was that Bruce might have walked all the way back to where he’d removed his clothes, about a six-mile hike. Once there, he probably concocted some story to tell his superiors. I assumed most of it was embellished, maybe something like, “I was kidnapped by two men who were walking along the frontage road. They threatened me with my own gun, put a bag over my head, and left me in the middle of nowhere.” He might have even trashed his precious credit cards just to make the story more believable. Anything to save face. While it might have been the greatest life lesson for him, I’m just glad it had worked for me and my situation.

  The compound was located off a side road from a main highway in the middle of Nye County, about fifty miles northeast of Las Vegas. I shut off my phone as I neared the location—thinking that if they were tracking my location using the GPS on my phone, it wouldn’t be too alarming for the signal to stop for a couple of minutes. I turned off my headlights as I took a right down the side road and crept along the gravel-and-dirt path. I pulled to a stop around a bend, my car still hidden behind a small hill of rocks. I got out and walked the last few feet until I reached the rocks. I poked my head around the side.

  While the place was mostly hidden by the fence and grassy knoll in front, when I’d left the compound yesterday, there had been several trucks and SUVs on the long driveway to the side of it. Right now, though, I didn’t see a single one. None. Nada.

  I felt a prick at the base of my skull as fear rippled through my extremities. Had Carter and Nixon taken Erin, Becca, and the whole operation to some other location?

  Please tell me they’re still here. Please tell me this mission wasn’t just a sick joke.

  I swallowed back some bile and moved in closer. I stayed low to the ground, thankful that it was still mostly dark. I moved from one rock formation to the next. About sixty seconds later, I peered around the fence into the main yard in front of the building. I saw no lights on, no people, and no cars. No cars meant no customers. If they had no customers, then they weren’t making money. If nothing else, I knew that Carter and Nixon were all about making money, the laws—moral and otherwise—be damned.

  I jogged back to my car, got in, and drove off, thinking about what I should do next. Was now the time to call Jerry and assign about fifty agents to the case? It would take some time, maybe most of the day, since neither Jerry—as far as I knew—nor I had any local FBI contacts. We’d have to follow protocol, and FBI protocol can take a long time. Too damn long. On top of the timing issue, it was a life-or-death issue. If Carter and Nixon had the girls stashed away at another location—maybe taking extra precaution so that I wouldn’t bring along a band of law-enforcement officers—they might learn that they were being hunted by the FBI. They probably had local law-enforcement contacts. If so, they might just disappear and take my Erin with them.

  I couldn’t take the chance. For now, my best bet was to stick with the same game plan, play ignorant of my knowledge that the compound appeared vacant, and hope they still wanted to trade the drugs for the girls.

  I made it back to the highway, drove five miles west, did a U-turn and parked off the road about twenty feet. The risk, of course, was that a cop would see the car, stop, and offer help. Or realize the car was operating just fine and begin asking questions.

  I turned on the phone and dialed the number. Carter answered, which brought some immediate relief that he hadn’t gone dark on me.

  He spoke in his typical blunt tone. “You are late.”

  “Can’t help it. The Chrysler broke down.”

  I heard some angry words in another language.

  “What is wrong with the car?” he asked.

  “It just went dead, and I steered the car over to the side of the road. Battery, alternator…I don’t know. And I don’t know how to fix it.” I paused an extra beat. “I guess I can walk the rest of the way. I think your lovely facility is only a few miles away. Might take me an hour, I’m guessing.”

  “But then you would leave the boxes alone? You’re not very smart for an FBI agent, Alex Troutt.”

  He’d taken the first steps down my desired path—I wasn’t very smart. Progress.

  He asked, “You do have the boxes still in your possession?”

  “Why would I get rid of the one thing that will give me Erin and Becca? Of course I have the boxes.”

  “Ah, so you have been paying attention to the seriousness of this situation. You are actually quite astute.”

  Did he really just say that? What a prick. Condescending and then patronizing in mere seconds.

  “So, what’s the plan, Carter?”

  I heard muffled voices—in English this time, which made me think he was speaking to Nixon. But for all I knew he had a gagg
le of former presidents working for him.

  “Okay,” he said. “We will come to you.”

  Come to me. Did that mean he was bringing the girls? Or would they just try to fix the car? That option made me nervous. I might have to open the hood and start yanking on wires and hoses. Maybe they’d simply grab me and the boxes and then take me to their new complex. Or would they take the boxes and leave me? Or take me and kill me once we got to the new digs?

  The permutation was almost endless. None, from what I could see, led directly to a positive outcome. I had to let them know I wasn’t just an absentminded follower. I did this for a single purpose.

  “Are you bringing Erin and Becca with you?”

  “We will come to you.”

  He sounded like one of those prerecorded telemarketers. Annoying as hell.

  I gave him the exact location, although I was sure he could find me on their GPS tracker.

  “How long until you get here? I don’t want a highway patrolman showing up, searching the car, and then finding your two boxes.”

  I heard what sounded like a growl. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  He hung up the line. So, they were relatively close, maybe the same county. Might make sense, if he’d bribed local law-enforcement officials to turn a blind eye.

  Would Carter bring the girls? He sounded noncommittal when I’d asked him, which made me think not.

  I tapped my chin, pondering another question: should I open the hood and start ripping out hoses and cords, essentially making the car unfixable, at least not quickly? That would force them to take the boxes—and hopefully me—with them. But what if, for some reason, I needed to use the car?

  Too many damn ways this could go. And something told me it wouldn’t be without someone getting hurt.

  17

  Alex

  A pair of headlights hit my eyes through the rearview. I sat taller in the driver’s seat, wondering if this was Carter and Nixon. I tried to channel my connection with Erin to attempt to determine if she might also be in the approaching car. It sounded silly, unless you had kids of your own. Something about that bond was difficult to describe, yet unmistakable in its strength of signal.