Special Forces Father - By Mallory Kane Page 0,21
to Washington, D.C., it might as well be part of the city. And Washington, D.C., housed, among many other things, the FBI. The Feds, who were always interested in kidnappings, especially those involving children. But they didn’t usually drive, certainly not a thousand miles. They preferred to fly in one of the FBI’s private jets and rent cars on the ground.
Besides, he was pretty sure the shrink was smarter than that. But even if she wasn’t, he sure as hell was. He was out of here if the FBI was involved. He’d never gotten mixed up with a federal case and he never intended to. His jobs were short and sweet and clean, these days. When he’d first lost his job and his pension for taking bribes, he’d accepted any job that came his way, including hits. But he didn’t like them. He still had enough police officer inside him to be bothered by taking a life. So he’d quickly moved into kidnapping for ransom. So far, he hadn’t had to harm anyone.
He wasn’t planning on breaking that record now.
He pressed the button to lower the driver’s side window. Taking his phone from his pocket, he set it on camera. Then he settled back in the car seat, wishing he could smoke a cigarette but not wanting to do anything that would attract attention to him. He sat there, holding the phone in position to take a picture, and waited.
At ten-thirty-three, a man came out of Dr. Chalmet’s front door. He was pale, and his clothes looked a size or two too big. He stood straight and tall, but he walked slowly, as if he were ill or injured. Bent surreptitiously snapped a few pictures as the man glanced around the neighborhood. As the man’s gaze turned toward Bent’s car, he froze, remaining perfectly still until the man’s eyes had traveled past him.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The guy hadn’t noticed him. To identify him as a tail and not react would make him one of the coolest guys Bent had ever seen. Would an FBI agent have that kind of cool? Bent didn’t think so.
The guy yawned, then made his way to the hatchback. Bent assessed him and decided that he wasn’t carrying. Even wearing clothes a size too big, it would be hard to completely hide even a small handgun. So he wasn’t FBI. Maybe he was the kid’s father. His client didn’t mention a man in the picture, but it wouldn’t be the first time a client hadn’t known or had neglected to tell him everything about the target’s neighbors, friends and family.
As the non-FBI agent cranked the car and pulled away from the curb, Bent debated what to do. Did he tail the sickly civilian or catch up with Dr. Chalmet at her office and stick with her, his top priority? As the hatchback passed his parked car without a second glance and turned right onto the next street, Bent started his engine and took the left, headed toward Dr. Chalmet’s office.
* * *
TRAVIS WAS GLAD he’d waited to call Dawson’s office. If he’d made the call before he had left the house, he might not have seen the kidnapper. Travis had excellent peripheral vision, one of the many reasons he’d easily qualified for Special Forces. He spotted the dark sedan that was parked half a block down from Kate’s house without ever looking at it directly. He saw the real estate sign on the side, too, but he didn’t believe it for a second. For one thing, there were no For Sale signs in the neighborhood. But he rarely made assumptions based on appearances. That kind of carelessness could be fatal on dangerous missions.
After yawning and making a subtle but obvious point of checking his pockets for the house key Kate had handed him as she’d left, he locked the door to the house, walked to his car and pulled away from the curb. As he passed the car, he noticed the sticker on the windshield. Then, after he had put some distance between them, he glanced in his rearview mirror without moving his head. The sedan’s license plate was obscured with mud and dust, but he could read the first two numbers and the last. What he couldn’t make out was the state. Travis committed the numbers to memory. He would have liked to get a look at the driver, the man he was certain was Max’s kidnapper, but he didn’t want the