Joe King
The minivan’s headlights cut through the darkness as Lee turned off Wesley Chapel Road. Joe, who was seated directly behind him, took a deep breath to steady himself.
While he knew that Lee had gone through driver’s training for law enforcement, it had still been a hair-raising ride over from their townhouse complex. His ex-wife’s husband had coaxed out a level of speed and performance that he’d never imagined a family vehicle would have. Ordinarily it took five or ten minutes to drive to the house on Maplewood Drive. Lee made it in just over three.
With a squeal of tires, Lee parked the minivan in the driveway, ignoring the fact that the driver’s side wheels were on grass. They spilled out into the yard, Amanda racing toward the front door. “Jamie! Where are you?”
There was no response.
Lee appeared with flashlights, handing one to each of them. “Spread out. Joe, take the garage. Carrie, circle around to the back yard. I’ll go through the front.”
Joe felt his lips thin. “I don’t have a key to the garage anymore.”
With a sharp look, Lee dug his keys out of his pocket. “I assume you know which one.”
He took the keys and raced toward the garage, nearly crashing through the door before he managed to get it open. “Jamie!”
The garage was silent and empty. Amanda had moved everything out of it into a rented storage area, and Joe’s voice echoed in the cavernous space as he dashed toward the attic stairs. It took two pulls of the cord to get it down, bringing a cascade of dust and dirt with it.
Based on that, he wasn’t surprised to find nothing up there either. Dust was layered half an inch thick around the various surfaces.
Joe slid back down the stair rail, not bothering with the steps themselves, landing hard enough to twist a knee. He ignored it and ran across the floor back toward the door, which he’d left hanging open. “Not in here!”
Amanda came out onto the patio. “Or in here.”
Joe flung himself past her, switching on lights as he raced around the empty rooms. “Damn it!”
Lee came through the front door, breathing hard. “Nothing in the front yard either. Did anyone see his bike?”
“No,” panted Amanda, who had come back inside. “Everything’s just like we left it when we locked up the last time.”
“Check the yard again,” Lee directed her, handing over his flashlight. “See if there’s any evidence he’s been here and gone.”
“Right.” She raced away, her face showing the same determination that was on Lee’s.
She’d made a phone call on the way over, communicating in short bursts of jargon-filled sentences. Lee had periodically jumped into the conversation, using the same idiom, as they coordinated what sounded like an all-out search.
Was this, a part of Joe’s mind wondered, how they functioned on a case? If so, it was no wonder their success rate was so high. Joe had never seen Amanda like this before, cool and confident, projecting calm even though her hands had been shaking when she took the flashlight from Lee.
“Nothing,” said Carrie as she darted into the house.
“Including the bushes?” asked Lee.
“No. I’ll go check those.”
Joe and Lee weren’t far behind, which meant they were outside when they heard Amanda’s cry. “His bike!”
“Where?” shouted Joe as he ran toward her. “In the bushes? He never left it there before.”
She was clambering into the foliage some distance from where Carrie was checking, shoving branches and aside as she made her way to the bike. “No. Not like this. Lee!”
“What?” her husband called from outside the bushes.
“This looks like it was thrown in here. By an adult, or maybe even two. Which means —”
“Yeah. I know.” His expression was tense as he helped her back out into the yard. “Lock up, will you?”
“Lock up?” asked Joe.
“Yeah. We’re going to the Agency.” Lee indicated both him and Carrie, who had come up behind him. “Look, um, you both know what we do. There’ll be some things there that you can’t discuss or explain and we’re not always going to be able to answer questions.”
“I know,” snapped Joe.
Carrie laid her hand on his arm. “Let him finish. He has to do this.”
Lee nodded. “I need you both to promise me you won’t discuss anything you see or hear, unless you check with us first. We’ll take you in on our own authority, but we need to be sure you’ve agreed to that.”
“Of course,” said Carrie.
Joe nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Good. Thanks.” Taking his keys from Joe, he raced back around to the driver’s side, unlocking the sliding door so they could crawl onto the second-row bench. By the time they finished, Amanda was in the car, and once again there was the squeal of tires as Lee backed out.
“A lot of times, the waiting is the hard part.”
Joe looked up and saw one of Lee’s and Amanda’s co-workers standing there, two maroon-colored mugs in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “We’ve spoken before, but I’ve forgotten your name.”
Offering one of the mugs, the man sat down beside him on the couch. “Melrose. Billy Melrose. Director of Field Section, which means I’m the one who’s in charge of this circus.” He paused. “God only knows how many nights I’ve spent here, worrying what little detail I might miss because I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline.”
Joe nodded. Across the room, Amanda had her head bent over a grid, plotting something on it. Lee was sitting on the edge of her desk with several ragged-edged sheets of printer paper, alternating between reading out whatever was on them and pointing to places on Amanda’s — was it a map? A search pattern? Something else entirely?
Carrie joined them. She, too, was carrying a maroon mug, although hers had a cat-shaped ceramic charm clipped to the rim. A faint smell of chocolate came from it. She’d switched off the coffee, then, probably in an effort to stay calm.
The older man acknowledged her with a nod. “Mrs. King. I’m Billy Melrose.”
“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Melrose.”
“Call me Billy,” he replied. “Since I’m not your supervisor.” He indicated Lee, Amanda, and a blonde woman who was seated in front of a radio set. “Most of my own people do that anyway. Amanda’s about the only one who doesn’t.”
“Then I’m Carrie,” she replied. The exchange was so quiet, so ordinary, when his son was out there somewhere…
Billy met both of their eyes in turn. “Listen, these three characters are one of my best teams. If Jamie is anywhere in the Capital Region, they’ll find him.”
“What about your agent?” asked Carrie. “Zeta, I think Lee said she’s called?”
“They’re coordinating with agents on that search too.”
Joe spoke up. “Do you think the two disappearances are related?”
“I really hope not.” Billy exhaled loudly. “Francine, you heard from Duffy or Monroe recently?”
“No,” said the blonde at the radio.
“Give them a call. They’re overdue for check-in.” His gaze came back to Joe and Carrie. “You’ll have to excuse me. But we’re not going to stop until we find both Jamie and Zeta. That’s a promise.”
Beside Joe, Carrie nodded. Her hand slid into his, small and warm, and he squeezed gently. She responded by laying her head on his shoulder.
A clock radio perched on one of the bookshelves read 3:18 a.m.
“Maybe you should get some sleep,” he suggested. “There should be enough chairs around for me to let you have the couch.”
She lifted her head and shook it, but then sighed and nodded. “I’d rather share.”
“On this couch?”
She directed him to one corner of it and then lay down with her knees over his lap. They’d done this a few times before, on couches with a lot more stuffing. He was surprised how comfortable it was on this one.
“I’m glad we came,” murmured Carrie as she began to drift off. “It’s good to see how much everyone here cares. Makes me feel a lot more comfortable about knowing what they do for a living.”
He nodded, feeling his own attention starting to drift. “I’m glad too.”
The shrill of the telephone pulled him out of sleep. Lee picked it up at his desk. “Stetson.” There was a pause. “Jamie? Where are you?” He gestured frantically at Amanda, who picked up the extension at her desk and motioned Joe and Carrie over to listen.
On the other end of the line, Jamie’s voice was thin and scared. “Lee, I’m so sorry I ran away —”
Despite his obvious agitation, Lee kept his voice calm. “We’ll worry about that later. Is there anyone there with you?”
“Yeah. Couple of men with guns and there’s a lady, too. I don’t think she’s with them though. They’ve got us in a room together and only took me out ’cause they wanted me to make this phone call.”
Amanda looked up sharply, a question in her eyes, but Lee shook his head as he continued. “What’s the lady’s name?”
“I dunno. They come in and threaten us anytime we talk to each other.”
“Okay.” Lee’s hands clenched briefly. “Is she about five-seven, with short brown hair?”
“Uh-huh. Well, I can’t tell about her height, but she’s got short brown hair, a little curly but not much. She looks a little like you actually.”
Amanda put her hand over the bottom of her handset. “Zeta,” she whispered to Joe and Carrie.
Just then, there was a commotion on the other end of the line, and when Jamie’s voice came back it was shaking. “Look, the men with guns, they —” he sobbed, just once. “They said I haveta give you a message. That that’s why they let me call. And that your deadline’s up in twelve hours.”
The blonde woman at the communications console waved her arms at Amanda, who nodded before jumping into the conversation. “Jamie, it’s Mom.”
On the other end of the line, he began to cry.
“Shh, sweetheart. I know you’re scared. We’re all scared. But you just need to hang on for a little bit. Has anyone hurt you?”
“N-no,” said Jamie. Then he gulped. “Well, they took my backpack.”
“All right.” Amanda was still exchanging gestures with the woman at the communications console. “Are you able to describe the men for us?”
There was a long pause before Jamie audibly took a breath. “I don’t think so.”
Over at his desk, Lee clenched his fist again, but didn’t say anything.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to. Did they…” she trailed off, looking at Joe. He shook his head, not at all certain what she was trying to say but knowing that they weren’t in a position to discuss it right now. “Did they tell you anything at all about this deadline we’re supposed to meet?”
“No,” came the answer.
Over at the communications console, the blonde snapped her fingers. Lee immediately laid down his handset and went over to her, looking at something before nodding to Amanda. It occurred to Joe that they had to have worked together before, very closely, if they were able to communicate like this.
“Okay,” said Amanda into the headset. “Okay. You’re doing just fine. Can you —” but then there was another commotion on the phone, and shouting in the background. Her voice went up an octave. “Jamie?”
There was the sound of scuffling, and then he came back on the line. “I gotta go, Mom. I love you. Bye.” Then the call cut off.
Amanda collapsed into her desk chair, shuddering and shaking. It took her three tries to get her phone’s handset back into the cradle, and tears were running down her face. Lee was at her side immediately, kneeling and wrapping his arms around her before pulling her against his chest. For a long moment, he simply whispered and stroked her hair as she cried, rocking them both gently. His own expression had become drawn and haggard.
Joe had to admit he felt the same way. If he had a mirror, he suspected, he’d have likely seen the same expression in it.
Then Lee looked over Amanda’s head at Joe and Carrie. “Thank you.”
“For what?” asked Carrie. There was a faint smear of blood on her lower lip from where she’d been chewing on it.
“Staying quiet. We needed to keep the conversation going as long as we could so that we could try for a trace.” He nodded at the blonde woman. “It looks like Francine got one. She also got a good recording of the call.”
Carrie was hanging on to Joe’s hand as though it were a lifeline. “Where’s Mr. Melrose?”
“Downstairs in the — in one of our other departments.”
“All of you just stay put,” said Francine. “I’ll go and get him.” There was a click as she locked the door behind her. For what seemed like the first time, Joe noticed the words Film Library stenciled on the outside. That certainly explained the film canisters stacked along one shelf, and possibly the large, safe-like door near the couch.
The clock radio on the bookshelf read 6:22 a.m. He and Carrie had only slept for about three hours. It had been pure exhaustion, and he wasn’t feeling particularly rested. He imagined Lee and Amanda, who had had things to do, likely hadn’t slept at all.
At the desk, Amanda straightened up and patted Lee’s shoulder before turning toward him. “I was worried I might scare him worse than he already was, and that he’d end up trying to do something and getting hurt.”
“Oh,” said Joe. “Was that what you were trying to tell me?”
“Yes. Thank you for staying quiet. We didn’t want them to know you and Carrie were on the line.”
“Why not?” asked Carrie.
Lee was on his feet now. “You never give terrorists more information than you absolutely have to. And you can bet they’ve got a watcher over at the townhouse complex. That’s why I had the two of you leave through the back door of your place and keep your heads down before we drove off. If we’re lucky, whoever was watching won’t catch on to the fact that the two of you are with us.”
“And if we’re not?”
The other man closed his eyes and shook his head. “It might be significant. It might not. Regardless, I don’t want to give anything away.”
Joe nodded and took a deep breath. “All right. What now?”
The door unlocked and opened, admitting Billy, who nodded to Joe and Carrie. Francine was a step behind him, looking tense. “Lee,” she began. “They bounced that thing all over the place. The trace is saying Montréal, but nobody down there believes it.”
“Neither do we,” replied Amanda. “So we’re stuck with the tape, is that it?”
Billy sighed. “Yes.”
She squared her shoulders. “Then let’s get to it.”
“Get to what?” asked Carrie.
“We have to listen,” said Billy. “Anything that could be a clue. Mr. and Mrs. King, I’d like you in on that too. We’re setting up in the first-floor conference room now.”
Joe felt Carrie’s hand slip into his. They might only be running on a few hours’ sleep, but for Jamie’s sake they could do just about anything.