Taken (10 page)

He smiled faintly. “I’m like you, I appreciate lists. They keep life orderly.”

“You’re going to love my list then, because the next item on my agenda is to take another nap.”

He chuckled. “At least you don’t snore.”

She looked distinctly embarrassed. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“You look . . .” he began, then stopped and shook his head.
Adorable
,
cute
,
lovely
—all of them fit what he could say about how she looked when she slept, yet they weren’t appropriate to the conversation. “I’m glad you feel like you can rest when we travel. Chicago is going to take a lot out of you quickly. I’d rather you arrive as refreshed as possible.” He offered a reassuring smile. “Get some more sleep while you can, Shannon. It’s the best use of your time right now.”

She shifted around the pillow and settled back in the seat. “Thanks for listening to my long answer.”

“I’m blessed by it,” he said quietly. She’d understood God at a deep level. She was right. Her relationship with God was fine.

“What did I miss?” Shannon asked sleepily.

Matthew glanced over. “Not much. Some cows. Small towns. We’re still in the state of Indiana.”

She straightened in the seat, stretched her arms out, looked around at the dark countryside, broken only by the occasional dusk-to-dawn farmhouse light.

“I bought you a hot chocolate.” Matthew nodded to the covered cup he had picked up for her at the last truck stop. She hadn’t stirred when he pulled in and shut the car off.

She slipped off the plastic lid. “I thought we were going to stop around nine tonight.”

“We were. Nine came and went, you were sleeping heavy, traffic was running light, so I decided to keep driving. I’m thinking we’ll stop near Valparaiso, find a hotel for twelve hours, let you get a good meal or two, and me a comfortable bed.”

“Maybe find a place with a pool?”

She asked it casually, but he shot her a look, thinking it had been asked almost too casually. “Sure. Got a swimsuit tucked in one of those gym bags?”

“Yep. I like to swim.”

He was surprised she still liked the water, given how close she’d been to drowning at least twice in her life. “I’m glad to hear it. Swimming doesn’t beat up your knees the way running does.”

“Do you like running marathons?”

“I was wondering if you were ever going to mention my
Boston Marathon #9
shirt,” he replied to encourage the conversation.

She smiled. “I noticed the shirt. And your pride wearing it.”

“Becky’s gift. I like the accomplishment of finishing a marathon. I like the running. But do I like mile seventeen when my body says ‘stop’? I can’t say I run races for the enjoyment of that moment. I run because it’s time to think, and I prefer being outdoors rather than lifting weights in some room. Besides, running the Boston Marathon is a rite of passage. You live in Boston, you try to qualify and run that race.”

“That makes sense.”

She fell back into silence. He let it linger for a long while, glanced over to see a faintly pensive expression on her face. “Something on your mind?”

“Not particularly.”

“You’ve said quite a bit over the last day. I’m grateful for that trust, Shannon. I don’t take it lightly.”

“You’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

“What’s got you most worried?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “Sorting out what happened in the past that led to your abduction? Talking with your family? Dealing with the cops to locate the people who now need apprehending? Coping with the press?”

“Yes.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, I suppose I asked for that.”

Silence returned, and this time Matthew didn’t try to break it. It was a nice night for a drive. Clear skies. Bright stars. Brighter moon. Peaceful. He found a radio station playing mostly jazz, let the music fill the quiet.

Soon Shannon drifted back to sleep.

The hotel’s pool room smelled heavily of chlorine, the water calm under the overhead lights. The place was empty at just after midnight. On the table just inside the door, Matthew put down a carryout container from the restaurant around the corner. Roast beef on rye, French fries—comfort food for when stress was high. His was increasing as they got closer to Chicago.

Shannon came into the pool area ten minutes later, a towel draped around her shoulders, wearing a black one-piece swimsuit and matching jacket. “Eat first, then sleep. I like your priorities. But you don’t need to watch out for me, Matthew.”

“I like to unwind for a bit before I turn in, and I’d rather do that here than with the TV.”

She nodded, put her towel and wrap on a nearby lounge chair, and walked over to the poolside to sweep a foot in the water. “Not bad.” She stepped off the side into the water, going under the surface, reappeared, pushed wet hair away from her face, then rolled onto her back for a lazy kick toward the deep end. “The water’s warm,” she told him as she started swimming laps.

He ate the sandwich and fries, not particularly hungry but not interested in the food going cold. She looked comfortable swimming that crawl stroke, but flipping for a turn seemed awkward for her—it kept breaking her rhythm. She’d reach the wall before she was ready for it, strike her hand on the edge, or flip for a turn and be early so her feet gave only a small push off the wall. Shannon obviously wasn’t accustomed to a pool.

She seemed determined to sort out the turn problem. She kept swimming laps, and he soon lost count of them. He finished his meal and moved to a lounge chair to lie back and close his eyes
for a while, opening them occasionally to watch her swim. He checked his watch and finally got up and moved to the poolside, hunkered down to watch as she made another awkward turn. “You okay, Shannon?”

His question startled her and she stopped to tread water. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Are you chasing away bad memories or just getting some exercise? You’ve been swimming laps for almost an hour.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular. I just like to swim. Actually, this is how I zone out and stop thinking.”

“Where do you normally swim?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You obviously like to swim, but this pool length seems awkward for you. Where do you normally swim?”

“The beach. I’m definitely not used to chlorine this strong. It’s burning my eyes.”

An ocean
swimmer? The coasts? Gulf of Mexico?

“I’ll get out if you’re heading back to your room,” she offered.

“No, it’s okay. Swim as long as you like. You know where to find me if you need something.” They had adjoining rooms again, the reservations called in by Ann to keep their names off the records. “We’ll do lunch, maybe hit the road around noon, if that seems good to you.”

“Sure.”

“Enjoy the pool while you have it to yourself.” He wasn’t enamored with the idea of leaving her here alone, but he didn’t want to appear like he was hovering. If she wasn’t in her room after another hour, he’d wander back to the pool on some casual pretext.

Even traveling at a leisurely pace, they would be in Chicago tomorrow, and with that would come the next chapter in this
story. Matthew glanced back at the pool as he opened the door. Shannon was already swimming laps again. He wondered about the memories she was trying to avoid. He thought he might be seeing her first real case of nerves—and her attempt to avoid them. She wasn’t as calm about what was coming as she would hope to appear.

O
n Monday afternoon, Matthew used the security code Paul had given him to open the door to a brick residential building. Located in the center of an otherwise downtown block of office buildings hosting architects, product designers, and marketing firms, nothing from the street indicated it was residential property, adding a layer of anonymity to the place that he appreciated. “We’re on the seventh floor,” he said over his shoulder as Shannon followed him to the elevator, carrying one of her gym bags and the dress she had bought. Private parking for the building was good for Chicago, accessible through the lower level of the adjoining building.

The seventh floor hallway had four doors, though only three had numbers on them. He walked across to 714 and used the panel beside the door to enter a second security code. As he stepped inside, room lights automatically came on. He found the inside control panel and reentered both security codes in reverse order and watched the security system turn green. He relaxed.

Shannon had wandered past him into the apartment. “Your friends found us a nice place.”

He looked around for the first time. It was the home of a diplomat who presently was working in Eastern Europe. The distinctly male tone of the interior suggested that the man lived alone, but it was an elegant home just the same, with artwork, sculptures, framed photographs, leather couch and comfortable chairs, a multitude of books, and a recessed television. The most personal possession in view was a guitar braced against a stand. “Very nice.”

“I’m going to check out the bedrooms.”

“I’m told there are three. Take your pick.” He’d be across the hall in the unnumbered apartment under renovation, the work stalled now for some reason. John had said there was a bedroom and bath still untouched, while the rest consisted of freshly plastered walls and sparse furnishings. For giving them both some privacy and providing a place he could meet with cops to discuss the case without bothering Shannon, the arrangement was ideal.

Matthew went to check out the kitchen here, see if he needed to bring in groceries. John must have shopped for them. He set out fixings for grilled cheese sandwiches. Shannon eventually wandered in and took a seat on a stool. Matthew passed over a can of peaches he’d already opened. “We will stay right here for twenty-four hours, just vegetate and be slothful.”

She grinned. “Do you even know how to be slothful?”

“It’s time I learned.”

She ate a peach slice. “I like the plan.”

“Do I tell Paul to call your brother, or do you want more than a day?”

“Tell Paul to call him before I talk myself out of it.”

“Watch the sandwiches so they don’t burn,” he instructed and handed her the spatula. He pulled out his phone and walked into
the living room. She was setting the sandwiches off onto paper plates when he returned. “Looks good.” He helped himself to the bag of potato chips she’d found, lifted the lid off the dip.

She searched the refrigerator. “You’re going to steamroll me on matters where I show the slightest sign of any hesitation, aren’t you?” She turned, two soft drinks in hand.

“When it’s for your own good,” he decided. “You want to do this. If in twenty-four hours you’ve changed your mind, Paul and Jeffery can simply have a conversation about your case, and Jeffery will be none the wiser about what was really behind Paul’s invitation.”

Shannon conceded his point with a nod. She finished her sandwich. “I’m staying up late to watch the lamest old movie I can find.”

Matthew grinned. He couldn’t have prescribed a better choice. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to do some reading. Does our host have an office in this place?”

“Second door on the left. The chair looks comfortable, the desk intimidating—it’s the size of a battleship.”

Matthew finished his own sandwich. “I’ll head downstairs, bring up my luggage and laptop and the rest of your things, see if there’s a current newspaper left in the rack. Do you want the security codes in case you have to get out of here for some reason?”

“You won’t be gone that long, and I’m tired of knowing facts like that.”

He found himself oddly pleased with her remark, the first sign her guard was coming down. “Go find your movie. Think of this as your first day of vacation.”

She laughed. “You know, I think it is.” She took the bag of chips with her and went to check out the entertainment system.

Matthew set up his laptop on the oversized desk, gathered his notes out of his briefcase, scanned his working lists. He called Ann. “Do I dare admit we’re now in Chicago?”

She chuckled. “We’ve got a conference room set up for Paul and Theo, with Adam York conferencing in. The case board is looking interesting. You’re welcome to come over. We only want to inundate you with questions.”

“I’ll let you four do the heavy lifting, thank you, and hang out here with Shannon. It’s a very nice place.”

“I can imagine. I haven’t seen the man’s home, but I know him. He’s a diplomat’s diplomat, meaning he comes in to smooth the feathers of ruffled bureaucracies. His patience is legendary. He’s tranquil while built like a Sherman tank. I can imagine his place has a feel of elegance and comfort. He lived among the Brits for quite a while, and their idea of proper protocol rubbed off on him.”

Matthew smiled. “Buried in that was actually a pretty decent description of his home. When he’s here, it looks like he’s in relaxation mode.”

“He’s a good man,” Ann added, then said, “I sent over an update for Shannon on her family and friends. Marriages, divorces, births, deaths—a lot has happened in eleven years.”

Matthew checked his email. “I’ve got it. I’ll print a copy for her. Thanks, Ann.”

“She’ll find it helpful, I think.”

“What else do you have for me?” Matthew asked as he found more paper for the printer and searched the desk drawers for a stapler.

“Paul heard back from her brother. Does tomorrow night, seven p.m. our place work for you?”

He would have liked to give Shannon another twenty-four hours before the meeting, but it would work. “We’ll be there around six thirty.”

“What Paul told Jeffery was that the FBI is determined to take advantage of the election press attention to generate more leads and would like to coordinate when FBI experts might speak at one of his press events. Paul basically laid out a reason Jeffery would want to make a priority of having this conversation. Not that Jeffery needed the nudge. He seemed pleased and eager to follow up on the offer. He’s speaking at a hotel near the airport tomorrow, gives a speech at five, and will come by here from there. He’s off to St. Louis later this week, so the timing worked out.”

“I like the approach. He’ll be in the right frame of mind when he shows up, thinking about Shannon and in a hopeful mood. Maybe that can help with the shock that’s going to land. I don’t like the idea of him getting on a plane so soon after he sees Shannon, though. I’d like to have a conversation with him the next morning if possible.”

“I checked his campaign schedule,” Ann said, “and he’s not slated to appear at any public events until Friday morning. It won’t be hard to convince him to stay in Chicago an extra day or two.”

Matthew could see the last pieces settling into place. “In forty-eight hours, what we’re dealing with is going to be a lot more complex. But at least all the important items will be in motion. Tell me about the case board.”

“Sure. We’re still drawing a blank on who arranged to have Shannon abducted,” Ann replied. “The cities where she mailed the packages to Adam tell us a few things about her travels, but they don’t give us much to work with on her whereabouts dur
ing the last eleven years. The good news is those five names and photos are generating a lot of aliases and places. We’re trying to sort out if we have any legal names in that list of aliases, see if we can get a handle on the larger family of smugglers.”

“Has Adam begun showing those photographs to the rescued kids?”

“He’s shown them to six of the eighteen children. All six had no problem picking out the five photos from a stack of images. Adam said the fact they are dead seemed to generate intense relief in the kids.”

“I’ll let Shannon know. At least part of this is ending well.”

“Shannon mentioned a fishing trawler in the Seattle area. I’ve been searching to find old mooring records, Coast Guard inspection logs. If she can remember the name of that boat, I think I can do something significant with that information.”

Matthew made a note. “I’ll ask. What else?”

“If Shannon sees her brother and decides to stay in town rather than immediately head back to Atlanta, I’d like her to come to a cookout. Paul and I will be there. Theo. She needs to meet us, and it’s the simplest icebreaker I can come up with. I’ll invite some others so it feels casual. Maybe Rachel and Cole, John Key and his fiancée, Ellie Dance. We’ll have it at Bryce and Charlotte’s place. One meal, she’ll put names and faces together for people she can trust in Chicago if she needs help. No pressure beyond a ‘Hi, nice to meet you. Do you want a hamburger or a brat?’ After that, we’ll see if she’s ready for a sit-down conversation.”

“When I think the time might be appropriate, I’ll ask her.”

“Ask me what?”

He looked over to see Shannon in the office doorway, putting a piece of candy in her mouth. “It’s Chicago,” he told her.
“It’s soon to be summer. Friends are thinking about having a cookout.”

“Can I bring the potato salad? I’m good at making that.”

Matthew smiled. “Ann, put us down as good with the idea. Shannon’s bringing the potato salad. I’ll get one of those cheesecakes you like so much for dessert—the one that comes in that red-and-white-striped box.”

“Perfect. The day after she meets her brother. Say five p.m. I gather she’s joined you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll let you go for now. Ask her about the fishing trawler name. And tell her thanks on behalf of eighteen kids. What she did over the years was extraordinary.”

“Will do. I’ll call you back.” Matthew hung up the phone. “Planning to share those?”

Shannon held out her hand. “Depends if you’re into cherry-flavored sugar.”

He took three of the candies. “I’m ridiculously addicted to all things sweet. It’s arranged for you to see your brother tomorrow at seven p.m.”

She suddenly looked sick.

“Wear your pink dress. Don’t feel a need to say much.”

“Okay.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. Even though she was facing him, he didn’t think she was seeing him. Her thoughts had taken her somewhere else.

He reached over to the printer and picked up the pages, stapled them. “Shannon.” He waited until her gaze focused back on him. “Ann gathered some info for you about what’s happened with your friends and family over the last eleven years. When you don’t know what else to say to your brother, simply ask him something about one of these people, let him talk.”

She took the pages. Took a deep breath. “I can do that.”

He circled the desk. “You’re going to be fine,” he said gently.

“He’ll want to know.”

Matthew would give anything to be able to crawl inside the coming meeting and make sure her brother reacted properly, said the right things, that Shannon had the courage to be in the moment and not retreat behind her protective wall. “You don’t have to tell him anything about what happened.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Then why don’t you tell him the cops are looking at things first and would rather you not talk about the details with him. Tell him it’s better if he can say ‘I don’t know’ when the press asks him a question about you. Tell him there will be a time to talk, but you’re not ready to do so yet—however you need to word it. Redirect the moment back to a question about someone on that list and stay with the present rather than the past.”

“And if he asks why I don’t want to meet the rest of my family, my friends?”

He leaned back against the front of the desk. “You can say fatigue, the emotions of it all, are too much to deal with a larger reunion right now. That you’re in Chicago only briefly and didn’t want to stun the entire family with your return until you could spend more time with them. You need to spend a few days helping the police, and that will require some travel—”

“Will I be?” she put in.

Matthew smiled. “Whatever you need as an explanation, we’ll make that our plan for what we do next. Shannon, it’s not the end of the world if the meeting tomorrow lasts only twenty minutes before you feel like you need to leave. Seeing Jeffery is a step, that’s all. If it gets too stressful, all you have to do is say to me ‘It’s time,’ and we’ll step back, regroup, have another
conversation with your brother in a few days, maybe by phone instead of in person. We’ll deal with this transition. There’s no list of things you have to accomplish when you see him. I think your meeting with Jeffery is going to unfold smoothly and be a joy for you both. I don’t think you need to be nervous, but I understand why you are.”

“It’s scary.”

“What is?”

“Losing my privacy. Being seen again. Knowing the questions are going to come at me in waves.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I imagine it’s terrifying. But the thing about your brother is that he can keep this quiet—though that might not be easy since he’s a politician.”