18

Kenzie walked back into the dining room. Had she missed something with Talmadge? Would it come back to haunt her? She felt guilty. She’d been immature, not waiting for Crow at Talmadge’s. She’d been irritated with him and she failed to simply confront him directly. I’ll have to do better, she told herself. I’ve got to do better.

She had to force herself to shift her focus back to the mission at hand: Capturing Jackson423’s attention.

In the dining room, Alicia looked intently at the computer while Senator Grable paced.

“What’s going on?” Kenzie asked.

“There are five members of this board online,” Alicia responded. “Nobody’s responding to Jackson directly yet. You want to take it?”

“Please.”

Kenzie sat down as Alicia moved out of the way. “All right, let’s see here. I’m going to be Big Dog and Brandigurl.”

“And all you need is a split personality,” Alicia quipped.

“What are you going to do?” Senator Grable asked, looking over her shoulder.

Kenzie’s fingers flew. “I’m going to finish these profiles. If this is our subject he has narcissistic tendencies, and he’s going to want to talk to you directly, Senator. He might ask a question only you would know, which would be good, because it might give us a clue to his identity. So before I post a message under the Big Dog screen name, I’m going to try to draw ‘Jackson423’ out with the female persona.” Kenzie began typing.

Hey, r u a fan of Joie? She’s my fav. Totally. She saves Connor’s b**t every episode. Brandigurl.

“What time did Jackson post his message?” Kenzie said out loud.

“Two hours ago,” Alicia responded. “Six forty-seven.”

“After the news conference,” Kenzie mused.

“Do you think that’s what motivated him?” Grable asked.

“Maybe.”

But was it even the suspect? With no instant response to “Brandigurl’s” comment, Kenzie had another idea. “Alicia, call somebody at WFO, would you, and get them to search for other posts by somebody named Jackson423. Usually, these Internet people will post all over and they get to know each other. In fact,” she said, using the cursor to click onto another screen, “I’m going to make sure Brandigurl seems legit.”

“How’s it going?” Scott asked, walking into the room.

Kenzie glanced up at him. “Can we get someone to start watching old episodes of High Stakes? In case we have questions?”

“Sure.”

Sandy felt a rush of relief when Grayson said he was leaving and would be back in three or four hours. Make it four, she wanted to say. The only time she could relax was when he was gone.

As soon as his car had left the driveway, she put Zoe to bed. The little girl seemed so tired, and Sandy had no problem getting her settled. She’d purchased some books and a few toys, and after one reading of Are You My Mother?, the little one drifted off, holding tight to the little stuffed puppy Sandy had given her.

She wondered if the little girl had a dog at home. Or if her mother read to her. Gray said Zoe had a nanny. Sandy couldn’t even imagine that. Why have a kid if you didn’t want to take care of it?

How odd. Here she was, hovering over a child . . . and not her own. After two abortions in her late teens and early twenties, she’d found she couldn’t have children. She knew she’d go to her grave missing being a mother. Wasn’t much point in keeping her alcoholic husband after that, so Sandy had struck out on her own. Had a lot of mishaps. Missteps. Some success. And now this.

Surely things would get better once they were in Jamaica.

Sandy gently stroked the tear away from the corner of the sleeping girl’s eye. “Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”

Quietly leaving the room, Sandy went to the kitchen and cleaned up the dishes. Then she plopped down on the couch and reached for the TV remote. She felt something in the couch cushions, so she reached between them and pulled out a piece of paper. A receipt. An Internet receipt for an airline reservation. One Gray had made. And Sandy’s face grew hot as she comprehended what it said.

Kenzie spent fifteen minutes trying to get “Jackson423” to talk to “Brandigurl.” Her coffee grew cold in front of her. Her stomach growled. He wouldn’t take the bait. Time to push it a little. She took a deep breath.

Joie’s the most valuable part of the whole team, she typed under Big Dog’s screen name. If they’re smart, CISU will do anything they can to keep her going. Even if it takes big bucks.

She sat back, satisfied at the slight tone of desperation, the direct negotiation offer . . .

“This is so slow!” the senator said right behind her. “Isn’t there some more direct tactic?”

“The kidnapper is trying to make it hard for us. He’ll make a move soon,” Kenzie replied.

Grable muttered something she couldn’t hear.

To keep the Internet conversation going, Kenzie posted a message from Brandigurl inviting Big Dog into a chat room. Then she began interaction between Big Dog and Brandigurl, flipping back and forth between the two personalities in her mind as she typed. With the female screen name, she imagined herself chewing gum and talking on the cell phone while typing; she made the man more mature, stiffer. Not used to chatting. He was a senator, for Pete’s sake. How much time did he spend on the Internet?

She had to put in a little angst. A little desperation. A little anger. A little fear. All while talking about a TV show she had never watched. Meanwhile, Senator Grable hovered behind her, peppering her with questions.

Twenty minutes into it, she had her reward.

I wonder if CISU understands how much Joie is worth? Jackson wrote in the chat room.

Kenzie’s heart thumped. She took a deep breath. “Where’s Scott?” she called out.

“Is that it? Is that the kidnapper?” the senator asked.

“Very possibly. Let’s see if we can keep him talking.”

Which name should she use? Which identity? Kenzie’s hands paused. She closed her eyes momentarily. Then she made her decision, and posted another line under the Big Dog screen name: At least $2 million.

The key amount taken from the note. Jackson423 took off, proposing a plot line for the show, something these amateurs often did, involving Joie being kidnapped and held for ransom. Kenzie watched, breathless, as he outlined his ideas on the screen. Behind her, she could hear the senator’s shallow breathing. She focused like a tightrope walker, narrowing her eyes, careful of each step, as if life and death depended on it. Which it did.

She responded: Hey, that’s cool! wrote Brandigurl. ’Cuz Connor would be in deep if that happened. I mean, like, he needs Joie. All men need a woman to do their grunt work for them. Kenzie continued, typing bubblegum phrases, leading into a little flirting, trying to work this guy, get some more words from him.

Big Dog, on the other hand, responded quite differently. An interesting idea. But exactly how would Connor get her back?

“I’m going to find Scott,” Senator Grable said.

Kenzie took a deep breath. Her eyes remained fixed on her keyboard, her mind raced.

Finally, Jackson423 responded to her last posting. The abductors would require an EFT to a Cayman Islands bank. $2 million.

Kenzie took a deep breath. “OK. He’s affirming our response from a few minutes ago.”

Scott came into the room and stood behind Kenzie and she scrolled the words on her computer screen up so he could read the exchanges. “Good. Good!” he said. “Good job, Kenz!”

“What are we doing with this?” the senator asked. “Can we trace him? Can we find this guy?”

“We have enough to justify a warrant to take to the Internet service provider,” Scott said. “I’ll get on that.”

Kenzie’s head really began pounding. She typed, But how would Connor know Joie was really alive? He would not pay all that money unless he knew he would get her back safely.

The response came quickly. Likewise, the mastermind behind Joie’s disappearance would want to insure he was dealing with the big guns at CISU, not some lackey in law enforcement.

How would he affirm that? Big Dog wrote.

Personal information. There’s one thing about Joie’s father the kidnappers should know, Jackson typed.

“There you go! He’s checking you out, Senator!” Kenzie exclaimed.

“What should we say?” His voice sounded anxious.

A thousand things began running through Kenzie’s mind. She began sorting them out, rolling over options, thinking intuitively. She turned to the senator. “The kidnapper knows you well. I think we have to play to what he expressed in his note: You’ve used people, this is somehow justified because of it.”

The senator nodded.

“Again, we want to keep him talking, so let’s affirm him.”

“Go for it.”

Her hands trembled again as she placed them on the keyboard. I remember Joie’s father from an old show, Big Dog responded. He’d made some big mistakes. Hurt some innocent people. Took money he shouldn’t have. But Joie means the world to him.

She sighed audibly as she finished. Breathlessly, they waited for a response. Five minutes. Ten. Where was the unsub? Scott’s cell phone rang. In the background, Kenzie could hear him talking softly. “We’ve got an agent looking at the show online,” Scott said. “The warrants are on the way.” Kenzie nodded in response.

Finally, twelve minutes later, Jackson typed another message. “Got it, Scott!” Kenzie called.

Yes, if CISU went so far as to confirm that, it’s clear they’re serious about . . .

The post stopped, right in the middle of a word. How odd! Kenzie waited and waited for him to begin again, to continue the message. She kept staring at the words on the screen. Why did he stop mid-thought? That seemed so weird!

“What happened?” Alicia had moved right behind Kenzie.

“He just stopped.”

“How could he? Why would he?”

“He got interrupted? I don’t know.”

Kenzie tried messaging him back. But after ten minutes, they had no response. Like a balloon deflating, the intensity went out of the room. Kenzie moved around the Internet, looking to see if Jackson423 had shifted somewhere else. She reaccessed the Web site. Maybe it was stuck. But nothing worked. Communication had just shut off.

Her head pounded and her neck felt stiff. Frustrated, she stood up.

Grayson shut the lid of his laptop with a loud click, disgust churning in his stomach. The network had gone down before he could resume posting! And he had Grable sweating, too, yes he did. He felt sure of it. He could sense it. How frustrating! He cursed loudly, then remembered his location. When he looked up, half a dozen people nearby stared at him.

Great. He smiled sheepishly. “Wireless is down. Must be lightning in the area.” Then he tucked his computer under his arm, hunched up his shoulders and headed for his car. Well, Grable would just have to wait for the rest of the instructions, he thought. He’d just have to wait.

He muttered to himself as the first drops of rain began splatting on his windshield. All his work, and he had to stop when he was so close. How unfair! He backed out of his space, turned, and headed for the exit of the parking lot. He had a solid hour’s drive back to his mother’s. That kid had better be asleep, he thought. He sure didn’t have the patience to deal with a brat.

Thirty minutes went by. Kenzie began pacing the floor.

“Why don’t I go get dinner?” Alicia said.

“Fine. Anything . . .” Kenzie stopped herself. “No, wait. There’s a Peruvian chicken place on Wisconsin, about five blocks up. Could you get something from there?”

“Sure! I’ll get enough for everybody.”

Scott and the senator had gone off somewhere to talk. Kenzie glanced at her watch. After nine p.m. Her cell phone rang. “Agent Graham,” she answered.

“Mackenzie?” a male voice said.

She could hear loud music in the background. “Yes.” She tried placing the voice.

“It’s Beau Talmadge.”

She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, her senses suddenly on high alert. “What can I do for you?”

“Call off the goon squad, will you? You’re making my friends nervous.”

Kenzie pressed her right ear shut hoping to hear him better. “What are you talking about?”

“There are two white guys in suits sitting half a block down the street. Actually, one of them looks like an Indian. The Lone Ranger and Tonto. Tonto’s driving. They’ve been there for an hour. Everybody knows they’re Feds and it’s ruining my party.” He laughed.

“Your party . . .”

“Yeah. Even Beth is freakin’ out.”

“Beth Grable? She’s there?” Kenzie turned around as she said it. She looked up. Senator Grable stood right behind her, a mixture of shock and anger on his face. She caught his eye, then quickly looked away.

“She was here. She said her husband kicked her out.”

“That isn’t what happened.”

“Whatever. Just call off the dogs, OK?” Talmadge said.

“Don’t know if I can,” Kenzie said, but Talmadge had hung up.

“Who was that?” the senator demanded.

Kenzie hesitated, considering the ramifications of answering him. “Beau Talmadge.”

The senator swore again.

“I am 99 percent sure he’s just a friend,” Kenzie added.

He didn’t respond.

“Look. Stay focused. The important thing is getting Zoe back.”

He frowned. Then he heaved a big sigh and said, “Yes. You’re right. I’ll deal with Beth later.”

Kenzie looked at him and thought, I need to talk to his wife again.

“Nothing new on the message board?” Grable asked.

“No.”

“Have you eaten?” Kenzie asked.

He shook his head.

“Alicia’s coming back with food.”

The corner of Grable’s mouth twisted. “I just don’t feel like it,” he said, and he brushed past Scott, who walked toward them.

“Talmadge called,” she told Scott. He raised his eyebrows. She told him about their short conversation. “Beth was there earlier.”

“Did you let Crow know?”

She shook her head. “I just found out.”

“What do you make of it?” he asked.

“It’s odd, to say the least.”

“Could she be that cold?”

Kenzie shrugged. “Sure.”

“Her daughter’s missing, and she’s at a party? I’ve known shallow women, but c’mon!” Scott grimaced. “Call Crow and tell him. Let’s get somebody else calling her other friends. We need to find her.”

He had driven all the way back to his mother’s house, but when he got to the driveway, Grayson could not turn in. No way could he sleep with his plan hanging in the balance. The soft blue glow of the television told him Sandy was still up. He just didn’t feel like dealing with her or the little brat. Impulsively he drove on, bypassing the house. He pulled off to the side one street over so he could think.

The thunderstorm that had interrupted his Internet work had blown by. He’d been making good progress before that. With just a little more time, he thought he’d be able to get the deal in place.

Grayson retrieved a little black notebook from his laptop case. He couldn’t find the paper copy of his airline reservation. Where had he put it? Luckily, he had a backup.

He looked at his notation and closed the book, satisfied. Now, he just needed to finish this business.

Where could he find another wireless location? By changing origination points, he figured he could keep the FBI guessing long enough to work his plan. He didn’t want to give them too much time. It would increase the odds they’d find him. No, he wanted to keep Grable moving in the right direction. Most of all, he wanted his money.

Grayson flipped through his book. What would be open late, say, after midnight? He smiled. “Yes.”

He could feel fatigue beginning to overcome him. No matter. He pulled a small can of energy drink out of his glove box and downed it. He’d be good, now, for five hours or more.