CHAPTER ONE
Special Agent Laura Frost glanced into her rearview mirror, not at the road, but at the back seat. At the six-year-old girl who was sitting there, strapped in and looking both brave and terrified at once. The light of the sun flashing through the window played over tearstains on her cheeks, but her eyes were wide open now and she sat silently, her own arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Laura bit her lip, concentrating again on the road ahead. She’d made a big mistake.
But then again, there was nothing else to do. She’d had to rush in there and grab six-year-old Amy Fallow right out of her own home, because no one else was going to stop her father from beating her. Of course, the only evidence Laura had that this was taking place was Amy herself.
The only reason she’d known about it was because she’d seen it in a psychic vision – and those didn’t tend to hold up well in court.
Laura hadn’t had any choice but going in to rescue Amy. But now she had a huge problem. You didn’t just kidnap a young girl without consequences – and when that young girl’s father was State Governor John Fallow, the consequences would have to be big.
“Alright,” Laura said out loud, just to hear the sound of her own voice and to maybe, just maybe, reassure Amy as well as herself. “We’re going to go see someone who can help us out.”
“Who is it?” Amy asked, the first thing she’d said since getting in the car. Her voice had less of a hitch to it now that she was no longer sobbing, but she still sounded so young and small that it made Laura’s heart squeeze painfully in her chest.
“My boss,” Laura said, glancing in her mirrors as she switched lanes. “He’s a good man, and he’s going to know exactly what to do.”
In fact, she hadn’t known where she was going until just now. She’d only thought about getting Amy out of a dangerous situation before anything worse could happen. The vision she had seen had been heartbreaking, and she knew that it probably wasn’t the first time Fallow had laid into his daughter. His wife, too, cowered in front of him. Laura knew how to recognize the classic signs of abuse. Not that it had made her any more sympathetic towards a woman who could allow her own daughter to endure horrific treatment like this.
Just like she’d had no choice about rescuing Amy, she now had no choice but to go to the FBI headquarters and Division Chief Chuck Rondelle. The Governor would call in the kidnapping of his daughter – the second in as many months – and send the whole state’s worth of law enforcement after her. She had threatened him to not do so, but she was under no illusions. A man like that wouldn’t just let his daughter escape his clutches with no consequences. The only way this didn’t end with Laura in prison and Amy right back where she started was if Laura tried to get ahead of it, relying on her Chief’s sense of justice and the goodwill she’d garnered by solving difficult cases.
If he couldn’t help her, then it was all over.
Laura drove as fast as she dared, with a six-year-old in the back seat. Her unconscious thoughts must have already been taking her to the squat, ugly FBI headquarters building, because they were already so close that they reached it after taking one more exit. The gray concrete echoed her mood as she pulled up into the parking lot and got out of the car, opening Amy’s door for her. She’d thought Amy would want to walk up there on her own – most children at that age were starting to feel like they wanted to be more grown-up, more independent – but Amy was shaking so badly that Laura ended up lifting her into her arms. She realized for the first time that Amy was clutching a faded, threadbare stuffed rabbit – it must have been a favorite toy that Amy had grabbed on the way out of her bedroom.
She knew they cut an odd figure together. The FBI agent in her early thirties, blonde and blue-eyed herself, dressed in a sharp suit and power boots that were good for walking, running, and holding authority over the people they had to interview or order around. Cradled in her arms, a girl who could have been her daughter but wasn’t, dressed in pajamas, the signs of distress faded but still visible on her cheeks. Both of them striding through the hallways of the FBI building, entering the elevator and going right up to the floor on which the Division Chief kept his office, ignoring the stares and curious looks they got.
“Will he make me go back?” Amy whispered in Laura’s ear, in the privacy of the elevator. Her tiny arms were locked around Laura’s neck. Laura shifted slightly to look at the girl, who was keeping her gaze on the floor. Six years old, and she’d already learned to stay quiet and not make eye contact for fear of making someone angry. Laura’s blood boiled, the clench in her chest coming again, and more powerfully.
“I won’t let him, sweetie,” Laura said, even though she really had no idea whether she was telling the truth.
The elevator pinged to announce their arrival on the correct floor, and Laura took a breath before the doors slid open. Then she marched to Rondelle’s door, reaching out and knocking on it before she could allow herself to lose her nerve.
“Come.”
The command was simple and terse, and the voice was distracted. Laura had the feeling she was about to walk in on her boss doing paperwork, as he often was, and she hoped it wasn’t going to put him in a bad mood before they even got anywhere. She pushed the door open, stepping through with Amy still in her arms and closing it firmly behind them before she stepped in front of his desk.
At first, Rondelle didn’t look up. Th
en he did glance, and when he glanced, he froze; his pen dropped onto the table, and he fixed Laura with a raised eyebrow. “Agent Frost. And who’s this? … Not little Amy Fallow?”
Of course, he would recognize the girl. She had been part of one of the state’s highest-profile kidnappings in decades. Rondelle had personally congratulated Laura on her work in finding Amy. He wasn’t going to mistake the child now.
“Yes,” Amy said shyly, and Laura found herself clutching the girl tighter before she realized what she was doing. Then she forced herself to relax, looking around for a chair to sit Amy on. There was one pushed up against the wall, and she carefully settled Amy down there.
“Now, Amy, I’m glad to see you,” Rondelle said. He was transforming in front of Laura’s eyes: from a small, wiry, and sharply inquisitive career agent into a grandfatherly figure, fitting for the gray hair that was sprouting through the black on his head. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a ball of rubber bands, and a couple of small, empty pots. “I’ve been needing some help with something. I think you might be just the girl for the job. Do you think you can help me out?”
“What is it?” Amy asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Rondelle laughed as he got up, walking over to kneel in front of her. “Good girl – always ask before you agree to something. Well, you see, someone’s put all of these rubber bands into a ball. That was silly of them, wasn’t it?”
Amy giggled, nodding. The flash of a smile was short-lived, but it gave Laura hope. She wasn’t completely destroyed, yet, by what her father had done.
“Now, how about you help me separate all these bands? You see how some of them are brown, and some of them are blue? Will you take them off the ball and put them into these pots for me, so we can keep the colors separate?”
Amy nodded eagerly, reaching her hands out for the ball and pots. She placed them on her knee and bent her head over them, quickly starting to work out how to stretch the bands and take them off the ball.
“Alright, Frost,” Rondelle said, moving back behind his desk. Laura followed him to the opposite end of the room, where they could talk quietly without Amy hearing every word if they were careful. Rondelle kept his voice light and cheerful, but his face told a different story as he looked at her. It was all sharp angles, and Laura knew she was in trouble if she couldn’t make him understand. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here today?”
“I had noticed certain signs after…” Laura glanced at Amy, who seemed to be concentrating on her task, and lowered her voice all the same. “After the kidnapping. I attempted to follow up and speak with Mrs. Fallow, the Governor, and Amy herself on a number of occasions, but I’d become increasingly worried that something wasn’t right in the household.” It was true enough, even if she was leaving out the biggest part. The fact that she had seen the truth in a vision, not in any real sign of abuse. For all she knew, the violence had only spilled over after Amy was returned home.
“Signs of what, exactly?” Rondelle asked, his eagle-sharp eyes drifting over to Amy with an assessing look.
“An anger problem,” Laura said. “I went around to the house today and, while I was at the door, I overheard shouting. I used my right as an agent, on hearing what I thought to be sounds of distress, to go inside and take a look. I found Governor Fallow with his belt in his hand.”
Rondelle was silent for a moment. Laura followed his gaze, tried to see Amy as he did. There were bruises on the girl’s tiny arms, and she was thin for her age, even taking into account her kidnapping. Where she leaned over, a small part of her back was visible from her pajama top riding up; there, too, another bruise stood out against her pale skin.
Laura bit her lip in the silence. This could go one of two ways. Either she was going to be protected, because she had done the right thing and was – technically – theoretically – within the bounds of the law.
Or, her flimsy story was going to be ripped to shreds, she was going to be accused of stalking, harassment, and kidnapping, and the FBI would bend to the political power of the Governor to protect him instead.
“I’m going to call in a few people,” Rondelle said, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “We need to proceed very carefully here. Laura, go out down the hall and find another Agent to look after Amy for a short while as we talk.”
Laura swallowed hard, glanced at Amy to be sure she was comfortable, and nodded. She stepped out, rushing down the corridor.
She had to find someone who she could trust. Someone who was good with children. Someone who would make Amy feel safe, and not say a word.
Laura knew exactly who she needed to find.
CHAPTER TWO
Suzanna looked down as she walked out of the community center, rooting around inside her purse for her car keys. She knew they were in here somewhere. There was always too much stuff hanging around in her purse – lipstick, old receipts, tissues, notebooks. She knocked them all aside until she managed to find the keys jangling alone at the very bottom and fished them out, looking up across the parking lot.