Later that evening, after poring through files with Arden and the FBI agents, Laney retreated to her room, claiming exhaustion.
Earlier, Kent had gone to the precinct to see if he could call in some favors and help expedite a warrant on Ethan’s property. Grayson was trying a different tactic. He’d driven away over an hour ago, determined to convince a reluctant judge to issue a search warrant.
He’d left Laney behind.
Grayson had thought it would be safer.
It would have been. If she’d actually intended to stay there.
Low voices and murmurs of activity carried down the hall to her room. Rose was clanging in the kitchen while the others worked in the dining room. Laney carefully removed the screen from her bedroom window. When she was done, she retrieved her small search-and-rescue day pack from the floor beside her bed, shoved a pilfered topographical map of Camp Cone in it, then turned off the light, dropping the pack out the window to the ground. Grabbing her work cell phone from the charger on the dresser, she shoved it into her cargo pants pocket. The sun had just set below the horizon. The grass was damp from the late afternoon showers.
Laney’s heart raced. Climbing onto the windowsill, she dropped to the grass. The night was quiet. So far, so good.
Laney knew Grayson would not approve of her intent to give her FBI and MPD babysitters the slip.
She also knew that the chance of Grayson getting a warrant on a respected, retired FBI agent based on the circumstantial evidence they’d collected was slim. She’d heard the agents talking about it being a pipe dream that a warrant would be provided in time to rescue the kids.
But Laney understood law enforcement and probable cause. If she and Jax happened to be hiking in the area and came upon something that could point to the children, Grayson would have all the probable cause he needed for an official search.
She was determined to make sure that happened.
Olivia’s life was at stake.
Shrugging the pack onto her back, she whistled twice. She heard the soft pad of Jax’s feet in the yard behind the house before he raced around the corner and sat attentively in front of her. “Good boy,” she whispered. Patting her thigh twice, the signal for heel, she started off at a quick jog. Jax kept pace by her side. Laney ran through the trees, sticking close to the edges of the woods.
She needed to get to Aunt Rose’s house and borrow her car.
Rose kept the keys to her 1974 Hornet hatchback on a peg in the garage. So as long as the keys were there, borrowing the car would be easy. Laney just hoped the Hornet would make the hour-long drive to Camp Cone. As far as she knew, Willow was the first person to drive the car in months, and she’d taken a five-minute drive to the grocery store.
Of course, it was a bit premature to worry about the car breaking down when she first needed to get into the garage. Laney was counting on finding the spare house key in its usual spot—buried in the topsoil under the decorated stone turtle in the back flower bed. Hurrying across the well-manicured back yard, she found the turtle right where she’d expected it to be. Beside her, Jax’s ears perked up, standing at alert. His eyes watched the corner of the house. Someone was coming.
She jumped back into the shadows. There was no time to get the key. The soft sound of footsteps on the grass grew closer. “Laney?” As usual, Aunt Rose’s whisper was scarcely a decibel under a yell.
“Shh!” Laney responded quickly. “Aunt Rose, what are you doing out here?” she hissed.
“Looking for you, of course.” Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out a car key on a small fuzzy dice keychain. “I thought you might need this.”
“How’d you know I was here—and why on earth are you carrying around a key to a car you can’t legally drive?”
Aunt Rose planted her hands on her hips. “First of all, after the last break-in, I didn’t want to leave the key where it could be so easily found—James is a classic, you know?” James, of course, referred to Rose’s car. As Rose told the story, she’d purchased it the summer after her husband Peter died, because they’d watched James Bond together and he’d been fascinated by the aerial flip the car performed in the movie. Thankfully Rose had not yet attempted to duplicate that flip.
“Secondly,” Rose continued, “I heard Gray and Kent talking to those agents, too. I’m not deaf, you know. As soon as I heard that they probably didn’t have enough evidence to get a warrant, I knew exactly what you were going to do.”
Lifting the stone turtle, Rose buried her fingers in the dirt below, coming up with the spare key to the garage. She absently wiped the dirt off on her pants. “Here you go.”
“Does this mean you approve of the plan?” Laney asked, unlocking the garage and opening it.
Rose shook her head and sighed. “I’m not saying it’s the smartest thing to do, mind you, but I know I won’t be able to talk you out of it. You have too much of the Travis blood in you. Much more than your mama ever did, God rest her soul.”
Taking the keys, Laney embraced her aunt. “Thanks, Aunt Rose.”
“Honey, I know you’ve always worried that you might end up like your mother, but even as a girl, your mama was never strong. Not like you.”
Shaking her head vehemently, Laney argued, “I’m not strong, I just try to do what needs to be done.”
“Because you have an inner strength, girl. The grit and moxie your mom never had—that comes from here and here.” She pointed to her head then her heart.
“Mom did her best.”
“No doubt, but she married the wrong man.”
“I know, and the sad thing is, I can see how it happened. My father could be a real charmer at times—you just never know what lies underneath.”
“Laney, I think deep down you know that’s not true. Some men are exactly as they seem. For instance, your grandfather—my brother—and my own husband.”
“I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet Uncle Peter.”
“Me, too, but I won’t romanticize him—he was far from perfect. God knows none of us are perfect. But he tried to live God’s plan for his life. That one simple act of faith made him perfect for me. Maybe you’ll find the same to be true with Grayson.”
“Aunt Rose, Grayson and I are just...” What were they? Working together? Friends? At times it seemed she’d known him forever. But really, did she know him at all?
“You can protest all you want, but you can’t deny the attraction. But don’t you think on it now. God’s plan will unfold in its own time.” She gave Laney a quick hug. “Give me two minutes before you start the car. I’ll distract them with my new batch of grandma’s whoopie pies.”
“I love you, Aunt Rose.”
“I know, and I love you, too.”
Opening the car door, Laney motioned Jax inside. “Jax, place.” Tail wagging, he hopped into the car.
Pausing at the entrance of the garage, Aunt Rose looked back over her shoulder. “Be careful, Laney. And leave the lights off until you get to the end of our drive. That’s what I always do.” Grinning, she was gone.
* * *
Grayson wasn’t happy. He’d just left the judge’s house—without a search warrant for Ethan’s property. Despite the case Grayson had presented, the judge reasoned that Ethan appeared to have been a legitimate paid consultant on the cases, and that those records could have been doctored by anyone to cast the blame on Ethan. Furthermore, Camp Cone was a public park, backing up to several private properties, and since there was no evidence directly linking Ethan to any of the victims or suspects, the probable cause was not there. The judge sympathized but told Grayson he needed to make a stronger case for a warrant to be issued.
Grayson had a decision to make. He could follow the rules and keep searching for more substantial evidence to link Ethan to the crimes, or he could search the property himself, perhaps finding the kids, but knowing that anything he found couldn’t be used in a court of law.
For the first time in his life, Grayson was thinking about breaking the law.
There had to be a way around this. There must be a way to rescue the kids and still bring Ethan to justice.
Ethan, who’d recommended Grayson for the case in the first place, then used his relationship with Grayson to monitor the progress the bureau was making and plan his next move. Grayson tamped down his fury. Rage wasn’t going to help him figure things out. It wasn’t going to make things easier. He needed to stay calm and cool-headed if he was going to beat Ethan at his own game.
And that must be what this was to his mentor—a money-making game that he had been playing and winning for far too long.
What was worse, logic dictated that this wasn’t Ethan’s first venture into organized crime. Grayson wondered when Ethan had turned. Had Rick’s death sent him over the edge? Or worse, could he have had something to do with Rick’s death? And Andrea’s?
The thought turned his blood cold. Grayson had always wondered how Ethan had wrapped up the case of Rick’s murder so quickly, so cleanly. The perpetrators had died trying to keep from being taken into custody, and there’d been no one to interrogate. There was no telling how deep Ethan’s betrayal ran, but Grayson wanted the chance to ask him.
His cell phone vibrated. Kent’s name and number scrolled across the dashboard display. He grabbed the phone, his hand shaking with the force of his anger. “DeMarco here.”
“Laney’s gone. She took one of the topo maps and Jax with her.”
“What? How? There are four armed law enforcement officers at the house, and her Jeep is still in the impound lot!”
“She snuck out through her bedroom window while the FBI agents were in the kitchen with your sister and Rose. They were going through the case files, and she said she needed to lie down—”
“That should have been their first clue that she was up to something!” he snapped.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, DeMarco,” Andrews bit out. They were both tense, both disappointed with the judge’s decision regarding the search warrant.
“The good news is,” Grayson said, trying to calm himself down, “she couldn’t have gone far without a vehicle.”
“You’re assuming she doesn’t have one.”
“Where would she get...” Grayson paused, realizing just how easy he and everyone else had made Laney’s escape. “Rose.”
“Rose admits to handing over the keys to her ’74 Hornet hatchback, then distracting my officers with a plate full of whoopie pies and milk. Both of my guys are now complaining of stomach pains. I swear she’s a menace with the baked goods.”
Grayson’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure I care about your officers’ stomach problems. How long ago did Laney leave?”
“She’s been gone about ninety minutes.”
“She’s had more than enough time to get to the Camp Cone area, then. Has anyone heard from her since?”
“No. I tried to call her work cell. No answer.”
Grayson banged the steering wheel, his frustration making him reckless. “What was she thinking?”
“According to Rose, Laney went to get us our probable cause.”
That wasn’t what Grayson wanted to hear. It wasn’t what he wanted to think about. Laney and Jax searching Ethan’s property couldn’t lead to anything good.
“I just left the judge’s house,” he growled. “I can be at Ethan’s property in less than fifteen minutes. I’m turning around now.”
“I’m on my way with two patrol cars. We’ll be there in thirty minutes, tops.”
Disconnecting the call, Grayson tried Laney’s work phone. Straight to voice mail.
He drove faster than he should have, faster than was prudent, speeding toward Camp Cone. Dozens of memories flashed through his head. All the times Ethan had seemed interested, concerned, helpful, he’d been playing Grayson for a fool.
He managed to make it to Camp Cone Road in thirteen minutes. It wove through an older, established neighborhood and dead-ended at the park entrance, where visitors could gain free public access during park hours. Grayson was betting that Laney would pick that as her entry point.
The access gate would have been locked at sunset, but Laney could easily have parked in the small lot and walked in. From there, she’d have to navigate about twenty acres of heavily wooded parkland to get to the boundary of Ethan’s property.
Remembering how quickly and easily Laney and Jax had navigated the trees and brush during the morning’s search, he was confident that she was well within Ethan’s property line already. He was equally confident that he was ill-equipped to trail her through the woods.
No, he’d need to take the direct approach. He’d enter the property through Ethan’s driveway and have a look around. At this point, he had no other choice.
* * *
The conditions were perfect. Temperature mild. A light, consistent breeze. Jax was definitely in scent. According to the compass and topographic map, they were less than fifty meters north of a man-made structure, possibly the hunting cabin that Grayson had mentioned. According to the map, it bordered the southern corner of Ethan Conrad’s property. Laney decided that direction was as good as any to start. After all, if Ethan was hiding three children on the property, he’d need a secure place to keep them—a building away from the main house would be the best bet.
Laney didn’t use a flashlight and did not turn on the lights on Jax’s vest. Luckily, the night sky was clear, the almost full moon illuminating the woods. Jax’s head popped up, and he stopped, nose to the wind. Over the light wind rustling through the trees, Laney thought she heard voices.
“Jax, come,” she whispered. For a second Laney thought he wouldn’t listen; she could see the reluctance as he looked at her, as if to say, “But the human is right there! Just a few more steps.”
Laney touched her open hand to her chest, reinforcing her voice command with the hand recall command. This time Jax came.
“Heel,” she said softly. They made their way slowly through the trees in the direction of the voices. The edge of the tree line was heavy with thick brush that made silence difficult. Jax moved through it easily, but Laney’s clothing and hair caught on branches that snapped as she pulled away. Hidden within the tree line, she could just make out the outline of a very small, old outbuilding. Perhaps a one-room hunting cabin or large shed. If there were windows, she couldn’t see them on the wall that faced her. No door, either, so she had to be looking at the back or side of the structure.
She crouched at the very edge of the trees, Jax beside her, his body tense with excitement. She scanned the clearing beyond the trees and spotted the source of the noise. Two men stood to the right of the structure, talking quietly. From her vantage point she could make out that the shorter of the two had a bald head. The other, bigger man was partially concealed by the building.
Headlights splashed light across a gravel drive choked with weeds. An uncomfortably familiar-looking dark panel van rolled toward the building, the driver guiding it into a position about a foot from the structure. He hopped out, then hurried to join the other men. Were they about to move the children? She would need to get closer if she hoped to learn anything. Both men disappeared around the corner of the structure.
She reached down and hoisted Jax into her arms, then took one slow, deliberate step at a time toward the edge of the tree line. She made it to a spot that was catercorner to the sliding panel door of the van. Setting Jax back on the grass, she gave him the hand motions for “down-stay” and crept toward the front of the structure.
She smelled cigarette smoke before she saw the third man. Seated in a folding camp chair, his back to her, he held the cigarette, its butt glowing orange in the darkness. Behind him, an open door revealed the black interior of the structure. Was someone in there?
“Hey!” the man called out, and she jumped, sure she’d been seen. “Hurry it up with those kids! We don’t got all night to move them.”
“They’re not cooperating, so how about you get yourself in here and do something to help?” a muffled voice called from inside the structure. One of the three men she’d already seen? Or a fourth person?
“Do I gotta to do everything?” the man with the cigarette called back. He took a deep drag on the cigarette, tossed it onto the ground and crushed it under his foot. “You tell those brats I’m coming in. One more complaint from them and I’ll set this whole place on fire with them in it.”
“You don’t do squat!” A man appeared in the doorway, and she recognized him immediately. The man who’d grabbed Olivia.
Silently pressing herself to the shadows of the building, she held her breath, praying that she wouldn’t be seen.
“I do plenty. But if I got to help you load the brats, I’ll help. Ship departs Baltimore at 6:00 a.m. We don’t got a lot of time,” the man said.
At that moment, the third man came out of the outbuilding, spouting a string of obscenities. He was bald, older than the other two, and smaller, but somehow more threatening.
“How about you two stop chatting and get back to work? In two hours, you can take your money and go your separate ways. For now, you’d better stick to the plan. Get in there and search the hold room for any evidence they may have left behind. We leave in ten. Either of you girls wants to slack off now, I can arrange for you not to leave at all.”
The three entered the structure. The door slammed shut behind them.
Rushing to the tree line where Jax patiently waited, Laney pulled her cell phone out and powered it up. She had less than ten minutes to figure out how to stall the men. If they left, she’d have no way to follow them. She’d parked Aunt Rose’s car a good twenty-minute trek back through the woods.
She could call 911 or she could call Grayson. She made the decision quickly, dialing the number and waiting as the phone rang twice.
“Laney! Where are you?” Grayson voice boomed through the phone.
“I’m at Ethan Conrad’s property, and the kids are here.”
“You’ve seen them?”
“No, but I saw Olivia’s kidnapper and the van with the dented front end. The kidnappers are moving the kids to the Port of Baltimore. They’ll be shipped out from there.”
“When?”
“All I heard is that the ship leaves at six. I’m not sure what time they’ll be loading the kids, but they’re planning to leave here in ten minutes.”
“I’m on my way. So is Andrews. I need you to get back to the woods and stay out of sight.”
“Grayson, if I do that, the kids will be gone before you get here.”
“And we’ll have people at the Port of Baltimore waiting for them.”
“The Port of Baltimore is huge. You’ll never find them.”
“Don’t argue, Laney!” he growled. “You’ve given me the probable cause I need. Now step aside and let us handle things.”
“I’ll...stay safe,” she said. “I’ve got to go. They’ll be out with the kids any minute.”
Laney disconnected and turned off the phone before shrugging out of her day pack.
Reaching into the front pocket, she pulled out a plastic Ziploc bag containing her NASAR-required first-aid kit. It included three extra-large safety pins. Fishing them out, she returned the rest of kit to her day pack. If she could wedge a safety pin or two firmly into a tire’s valve stem, the air would be released slowly, possibly causing a flat tire before the men reached the port. She knew she had only minutes to make this work.
Ducking behind the front passenger tire, she quickly unscrewed the tire’s valve cover. Then, using the tip of the safety pin to push down the valve core, she wedged in the pin to keep it from popping up. It held, but felt loose, so she shoved in the second pin. Better, but it would likely not hold when the tire began rotating at sixty-five miles an hour. Grabbing her last safety pin from her pocket, she opened it and forced it between the first two pins.
Solid. Holding her finger over the air valve, she could feel the slight but steady rush of air pushing out. The question was, if it held, how long would it take before the van was inoperable?
The door to the building was flung open. “I’ll be at the van. Get those kids ready to move,” someone called out.
Laney was out in plain sight with no choice but to run.
She darted away from the van, aiming for the tree line and Jax.
She didn’t make it.
He was on her in an instant, tackling her to the ground so hard, every bit of air was knocked from her lungs.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up so he could look at her face. “You!” he spat.
“What’s going on?” The bald man stepped outside, two children beside him.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” The kidnapper pulled out a gun, pressed it to her head.
“Are you nuts? Put that thing away. We kill her here and there will be blood evidence everywhere. That happens and Conrad will put a mark on each of us. We’ll be dead by sunrise.”
The kidnapper cursed but hauled Laney to her feet. “I guess you’ve got a better plan?”
“Sure do. We sell her. Just like we’re doing with the kids. We needed five live bodies. Now we’ve at least got four.”
“Right. Fine. Whatever.” The kidnapper shoved her toward the van with enough force to knock her off her feet.
She went down hard, her palms skidding along gravel, bits of dirt digging into her flesh.
A fast-approaching vehicle barreled down the access road, high beams blinding. Laney could only pray it was the cavalry.