O’Neill strolled to the far corner of the room and stood at the foot of a narrow bed. “My men have finished gathering fingerprints and DNA samples from this room. We believe the two hostages were held here.” He went to the head of the bed and pointed out gouge marks on the vertical slats. “These marks were made by a chain, most likely from a pair of handcuffs. Rope, zip ties or any other material would not have made such marks in the wood.” He motioned toward the door and the agents outside the room. “I was told they found some hair and dried blood on the bed. It will be tested to see if it matches that of the President’s daughter.”
Charity joined the group, while Cruz and Dahlia scanned the bed and the surrounding area. Cruz clicked on her small flashlight and shined the beam at all the dark corners and places where the scant light of the overhead bulb was not reaching.
Hardy’s eyes followed the beam of Cruz’s flashlight. “Do you know who owns this shop, Agent O’Neill?”
O’Neill took a small pad of paper from his jacket pocket, flipped through a few pages and said, “Faas Essam.”
Dahlia heard the name and whipped her head toward O’Neill.
O’Neill rattled off the highlights from his notes. “Egyptian…forty-nine…has lived here for almost ten years…no known relatives in the States.” He flipped another page. “Not much is known about him. He hasn’t had any scrapes with the law. On paper, he seems to be an upstanding citizen.”
“Where is he now?” Hardy motioned for Cruz to shine her light on a section of the bed frame.
“We’ve tried contacting him, but he’s…”
Surveying the underside of the bedframe, Dahlia was lying on her left side. Her leather jacket and skirt rose further up her legs, while she reached under the bed.
Standing near her feet, O’Neill glimpsed the elastic band of her red thigh-high stockings. “He’s…he’s not answering his phone.” He focused his attention on his notepad. “Actually, we think his phone has been turned off.”
“That’s convenient.” She stood and adjusted her clothing.
“Thank you, Agent O’Neill.” Hardy shook hands with O’Neill. “Can you give us the room, please?”
“As I said, the President has ordered me to help, so if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thank you. I will.”
When O’Neill had left the room, Hardy lifted the mattress and had Cruz shine her light on the metal bedframe. His eyes shifted back and forth. He started to let go of the mattress, but stopped. “Shine your light over here, Cruz—a foot from the headboard.” He glanced at Dahlia, “Stand back, Dahlia,” before pushing the mattress over the edge of the frame. He sat on his haunches and leaned closer to the area lit by Cruz’s flashlight. “That’s blood. And, I’m willing to bet it’s Abby’s.”
“What makes you so sure?” Dahlia had drawn up behind Hardy and Cruz and was squinting to see the area in question.
“Look at the pattern of the frame.” He pointed. “There’s a section of it missing there.” Hardy got closer. “The edge of the remaining metal looks like it’s been bent back and forth several times.”
Cruz twisted the flashlight to see the metal from a different angle. “Just like someone would do if they were intentionally trying to break it off.”
Hardy nodded and stood.
Dahlia switched places with him and went down on one knee. “But, why? Why would she need a piece of metal?” She held out her hand toward Cruz. “Can I see your flashlight?”
Walking away, Hardy ran his fingers through his hair, stopping at his neck to massage the muscles. “It’s just a hunch, but over the summer, I taught Abby how to pick locks with various common items from everyday life. If she was handcuffed to this bed,” he gestured with his head, “she could have used that missing piece of metal to get out of her cuffs…possibly.”
Cruz faced him. “Do you think she escaped?”
He thought for a moment. “If she had, she would have contacted someone by now.” He dug his fingers into his scalp and scratched the top of his head. “No, I think this is just one more piece of evidence that proves she was here. I’m sure the kidnappers still have her.”
Cruz stood at the end of the bed. Leaning forward, she put her hands on the footboard. “Okay, they still have her…but where?” She was thinking aloud. “It’s obvious the kidnappers were tipped off we were coming, or they suspected their location had been compromised. They moved her before O’Neill’s team got here.”
Hardy swung his head toward Charity. “Cherry, can you get anything on Faas Essam that O’Neill wouldn’t have access to?”
After informing the Hostage Rescue Team to stand down, Charity had grabbed her laptop before joining her teammates. She was sitting in a folding chair with the laptop resting on a second chair. “I’ve searched, but like Agent O’Neill said, there’s nothing here of value.”
“I might be able to help.” Dahlia stood and returned Cruz’s flashlight to her. “There’s something about that name. I know I’ve heard it before…I just can’t remember where. I’ll put in some calls to my contacts and see what turns up.”
Hardy checked his watch. “Okay, I’m overdue in reporting to Jameson.” He pointed at Dahlia. “You see what you can find out with your people.” He glanced at Charity. “Cherry, work the computer and do what you can do there.” He rotated his head back toward Cruz. “Cruz, you have the toughest job of anyone. I want you to shadow O’Neill and glean what you can. It’s a shot in the dark, but maybe he’s in possession of information that may prove useful, and he doesn’t know it.” Hardy checked his watch again and held up his index finger. “Let’s meet back at the SUV’s in one hour.”
…………………………
Hardy had found a secluded corner in a small diner nearby and called Director Jameson. He gave his boss an update, and Jameson got the President on the line. Hardy went over everything again. He was interrupted three times when the President was pulled away from the call by people needing to speak with him. A call that should have taken no more than thirty minutes lasted an hour and a half. Disconnecting the call, Hardy noticed the time. He was late getting back to his team.