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While Noah remained secured, Captain Pike escorted him to the staff lunchroom. The coffee pot could have been a relic from the 1940s—battered and stained, but the coffee was hot. Barton poured him a mug before they sat. If Noah leaned forward, there was enough play in the cuffs to take a sip.
“I had a chance to run a background check on you. Why is there a federal warrant for such a decorated officer?” Pike grabbed a coffee for himself and sat at the pale, yellow-chipped table.
Noah looked over his shoulder. The large officer waited outside the room. It was just Barton and Pike. No cameras or recording equipment.
“I’m not going to bother with the usual ‘this is off the case’ opening, but I would appreciate what I’m about to say goes no further.”
He didn’t turn around, but Pike’s eyes flicked up to Barton and then back before a slight nod. “No promises. It all depends on how much my bullshit detector registers.”
“Fair enough.” Noah took another sip of his coffee before beginning. “My first major case happened eighteen years ago. A little girl was kidnapped but never found. Recently, a document was sent to the station. It had the missing girl’s fingerprints recorded but as an adult. Angela Taylor was alive after all this time. I reopened the case, and that’s when the problems started.”
Barton shifted behind him, and Pike could have been carved from stone—there was zero expression on his face as he listened.
Noah told how he was ordered off the case by the mayor’s office and subsequent findings. “Angela’s parents were sleeper agents, and their daughter was kidnapped to force them to comply with CIA demands.”
“I thought the CIA didn’t have any jurisdiction within the states.” Pike’s brow furrowed, and a finger tapped the tabletop.
“This all started seventy years ago. The president made a mistake, and this is what happened.” Noah knew this would be a hard pill to swallow, but he didn’t hold anything back. It took almost thirty minutes for him to finish, and the coffee was long since cold.
The captain leaned back in the metal chair and shook his head. “I don’t doubt you believe everything, but I’m lacking one thing.”
“Proof.” Noah turned to Barton. “I’ll give you a phone number for verification.” The officer pulled out a notepad and wrote down the eleven-digit number before leaving. Dennis had arranged through his secretary to have any calls from Noah forwarded through to him, no matter the time of day.
“Even if what you said is true, there’s the matter of the federal arrest warrant. I can’t legally let you go. Even if it were issued in error, it would be for the courts to decide.” Pike shrugged and looked at his watch. “Your arrest has gone through the system, and the FBI has been notified. However, there are certain things I can do to ensure there’s a level playing field. If you are up for it.”
When you are cast adrift in the ocean, any lifeline is welcome. “I don’t want anyone having issues or troubles on my account. But I’ll gladly accept.”
*****
AMANDA TAYLOR AWOKE as the sun rose, angled down the steps into the cellar, and warmed her face. The door to the basement was directly opposite the dining room window, and for fifteen minutes each morning, the sun would shine down the old wooden steps. Her right eye wouldn’t open, but her left took in the beam of light and the dust motes suspended in the air, and she smiled.
I’m alive.
Despite that declaration, her body didn’t feel like she should be alive—enough ribs were cracked that breathing was painful. When Amanda tried to move, shooting pain from her left leg narrowed her vision to a small pinpoint of light and threatened to send her unconscious. Ligaments were torn, and bones had broken in her lower leg.
Amanda had been driven and focused on achieving her goals—from martial arts to schooling throughout her life. If one door were closed, she would open another even if she had to kick it down. Her left leg wasn’t responding well, but her right was fine.
When she sat up and leaned back against the post, the broken links of the handcuffs rattled. She had been beaten hard enough that the cuffs had broken. But she was now free.
As she ground her teeth together, a few were loose, and a molar was missing altogether. While keeping her weight on the right leg, Amanda ignored everything to crawl up the stairs. The pounding headache made the world spin as she froze.
A noise from the kitchen was subtle, but it carried down the hall—a muffled thump.
There was no chance of running or putting up a fight in her condition. When Amanda crawled forward, the noises were coming from a door next to where the stove would have been. A pantry. After brushing away a pile of broken plates and garbage, she opened the door, expecting the worse.
“Brian?”
A figure lay bundled with a sack over his head. Lengths of a thin green cord were coiled about the large figure, from shoulders to his ankles.
“Give me a second. Stop moving.”
Amanda dragged herself alongside him and focused on loosening the knots at his feet, then wrists. Amanda pulled the hood off his head with the last bit of reserve energy and removed the gag.
Brian’s eyes watered with relief, but she didn’t notice. A black wave of unconsciousness dragged her back down into its embrace.