“We don’t want the extra attention that the police, and possibly an FBI investigation, would bring. Officials would start asking questions about why she was kidnapped, and they might connect the dots with the kidnapping attempt on her daughter. That would lead people directly to the NSA and, potentially, us. Add that to the fact that her husband went missing mysteriously, and that’s a story we don’t want to surface. However, once we have our hands on Sinclair, we can release his wife unharmed near her apartment. Since she won’t have seen anyone, she can report the kidnapping, but there won’t be a case because she was returned unharmed, and there will be no readily apparent motive or ransom. Her case will fade into obscurity, while Ethan Sinclair, who’s been missing for fourteen years, will simply disappear for good.”
“But what if the girl goes to the police first?”
“The girl is academically bright and a computer savant like her father. While she’s a bit clueless, she isn’t stupid. First, she won’t be sure her mother has been kidnapped. It’s reasonable to assume she might wonder if her mother disappeared just like her father. Secondly, before she calls the police, I hope she’ll try to contact her dad for fatherly guidance. Once she contacts him, the message will be sent, and Sinclair will know that if she goes to the police, his wife dies.”
“I just hope it doesn’t take too long.”
Things that are worth having are often the most challenging to obtain.
He thought of sharing the phrase with Sampson but feared he wouldn’t understand its significance. Instead he took a different approach. “Have faith. The girl is headed home later tonight because they’re closing UTOP for a week of asbestos remediation. It’s only a matter of hours before things get moving.”
“Good. The sooner the better.”
ANGEL SINCLAIR
I sat stiffly in the front seat of Jax’s car, trying not to cry. My stomach was churning with anxiety, and I clutched my cell in my hand as if that would encourage my mom to phone me back.
“Thanks for driving me, Jax. I’m sorry to take you from class, and even if you’re not sorry to miss it, you’d probably rather be doing something else like studying or partying, so I appreciate it.”
I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was better than playing one horrible scenario after the next in my head.
Jax glanced at me, his green eyes lingering on my face, his long fingers tapping the steering wheel. “If I’d rather have been doing something else, Red, I wouldn’t be here.”
He was an enigma to me. Goodness and danger rolled into one. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, either. Dark hair, keen intelligence, and a killer smile. An old soul in a teenage body. Maybe that made me an old soul, too, since I recognized it.
I switched the phone to my right hand and wiped the sweat from my left hand on my jeans. “Well, thank you anyway. I just can’t imagine why my mom isn’t answering her phone.”
“Maybe she overslept.”
“For hours? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe her phone was stolen, or she’s visiting with a friend and forgot it. Or maybe she’s at her boyfriend’s house and lost track of time.”
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend!” I protested.
“Why not?” Jax replied. “I thought you said your dad split when you were a toddler.”
“He did, but…never mind, it’s complicated. And now he’s alive, and I don’t know what’s going on with that.”
Jax didn’t say anything, but the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel continued. “So, maybe she’s with him?”
“No!” Just the thought of that was shocking. “She’d never have deserted me and Gwen or just stopped going to her job. Plus, she doesn’t even know he’s alive.”
“You sure about that?”
Was I? The truth was, I didn’t know for sure. But I was absolutely certain my mother would never purposefully disappear the way my dad had done fourteen years ago. She’d seen the toll it had taken on all of us.
“I’m sure,” I replied.
He considered and then asked, “Do you think this is connected to your attempted kidnapping, and to your dad’s sudden reappearance?”
That was exactly what I thought. I just hadn’t wanted to voice it aloud. But now that Jax had, I needed to unpack it.
“I think it might.” My throat was painfully tight.
He must have heard the fear in my voice, because he reached over and took my hand. I expected a quick squeeze of reassurance before he released it, but he