Taken (3 page)

The other list of events coming soon—where the only preparations he could make involved buying Kleenex—didn’t need writing down. There were necessary conversations that would
be tough on Shannon, some she’d have with doctors, others with cops, but inevitably some she’d have with him that he knew would wring his heart out. He’d been outwardly strong for his daughter, had listened with close attention, found ways to draw out the dark corners in her memories, to lance the pain of them . . . all the while feeling torn up inside. He honestly didn’t know if he had it in him to go through that again. He looked up from his notes and watched Shannon for a long moment.

I’m surprised you let her choose me
, God. I’m back to feeling . . . inadequate for this. Mainly
because I know some of what it’s going to
be. At least with Becky I was walking blind into
what was coming. I didn’t know better. This time
 . . . God, give me wisdom. Patience. The ability to listen. Help
me hear what is really being said. I can’t
afford to miss the nuances, not with someone whose way
of coping is to hide.

He looked down at the lists he had written and numbered the items he had to tackle first, aware he was simply killing time, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for DNA to confirm what he already knew. Shannon Bliss had reappeared and had chosen him. Even if he didn’t want this, he wouldn’t turn her away.

Life had been a lot simpler when he had been worried about such mundane problems as friends setting him up to meet a woman over dinner. He half smiled and put down his pen. Somehow he’d rise to the occasion. He glanced at his phone. But patience had never been his strong suit.

His phone began to vibrate. Matthew glanced at the caller ID and answered it immediately, keeping his voice low. “Ann, that was fast.”

“Theo likes me. And it helps that the Bliss case file has been digitized. Do you want to do this on the phone or do you want to come up to the suite?”

He glanced over at Shannon. She hadn’t stirred in the last twenty minutes. “Give me the highlights—I’ll decide from there.”

“It’s tough reading. Shannon disappeared over a Memorial Day weekend while driving home after staying with friends. Her car was never found. Cops looked hard at the family, at people around the family—her school, their church, the family’s business—but nothing popped as a solid motive or lead. Three similar cases in the Midwest over the prior seven years were pursued for any crossovers but didn’t generate much to work with. A ransom was paid after the disappearance went public, but there was no proof of life offered in advance, nor any contact after the money was paid. Three years after she disappeared, the parents divorced in a bitter fight that about bankrupted the family business. A year after that, the uncle committed suicide to avoid being arrested for having embezzled company money. During the contested divorce, the company books were audited by both sides—they were arguing over the valuation of the business—and it turned up the theft of company funds. There’s a suspicion that the uncle may have stolen some of the ransom money and handed over blank paper, used the money to try to cover up his fraud.”

Matthew had been making notes as she spoke, but that last comment made him pause with a wince. “How certain is that?”

“Ask me again tomorrow after I talk to Theo. I’m reading an eye-opening sixty-page summary of the case he wrote a few years ago. I’ll print you a copy.”

“I’m coming up. What’s your suite number?” He picked up his room key and his wallet, pushed his feet into his shoes.

“Ten ninety-six.”

He wrote a quick note for Shannon and left it on the desk in case she woke up. “Tell me about her brother,” he asked Ann, shifting his phone to the other hand as the room’s door closed behind him. He headed toward the elevator.

“Our next governor, if the tracking polls are to be believed. He’s been leading the search to find his sister almost from day one, and from what I can see here, he’s done a good job of keeping her photo out there, as well as information about the reward. He paid Chicago-based companies to include her missing-person flyer in every customer mailing they put out—there have been millions of them distributed in the last eleven years. This has been an intense, sustained, and expensive search. He sold his interest in the family business in order to fund that effort.”

“So he’s serious about finding his sister and may be open to taking some advice on how to proceed,” Matthew speculated.

“I’d think so. He makes a point of mentioning her, asking for information from the public, at every event where he speaks.”

The elevator doors opened on the tenth floor, and Matthew walked down to suite 1096, showed his credentials to the officer providing security in the hall. The head of the Chicago FBI office wouldn’t have a choice about the security; it went with the job.

“Why the interest in this case?” Ann was asking in his ear. “You have something?”

Matthew ignored the question for the moment. “I’m at the door.” He knocked lightly as he spoke and waited for Ann
to answer, silencing and pocketing his phone when the door opened. She’d changed into jeans and a Chicago Bulls T-shirt. Her husband was on the hotel phone. Matthew lifted a hand to acknowledge Paul’s silent hello, then turned his attention back to Ann and her question. “I may have met Shannon. DNA is running now.”

S
o if the woman in your room really is Shannon Bliss, what’s the plan?” Paul Falcon asked, settling on the couch next to his wife in their hotel suite.

“She would like to go home,” Matthew began, choosing a soda and dumping it over ice. He needed the caffeine to give himself a second burst of energy. “That’s the starting premise. What steps get taken in the next forty-eight hours depends in part on that case file and what the situation looks like in Chicago.”

“Has she told you anything about what happened? Is there a case to peel back at this point? A name? Location? Time period involved?” Paul asked.

“She’s shared a few facts I can tell you once DNA confirms her identity,” Matthew replied. He settled into a chair across from the couch, feeling the fatigue of the long day setting in. Paul would be the right person to see that Shannon got justice for what had happened to her. The sooner Matthew could introduce the two of them, the stronger the likelihood this situation
would unfold to the good. But that wasn’t going to happen in the next twenty-four hours.

His phone chimed. He looked at the screen. The initial DNA panel was ready. He used the FTP code and sent the comparison panel stripped of any name reference on to the lab to have the comparison done. He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Ten minutes, fifteen, he was going to know. He looked back at Paul. “Shannon wants to meet only with her brother initially, not the rest of her family or friends. What do you think? Can the brother meet her and sit on the news he knows she’s alive?”

Paul shared a look with Ann, who finally shook her head and replied, “Maybe. Anything is possible. But the practical answer is he can’t. We’re less than five months away from the vote. He can’t talk about her as missing once he knows she’s alive; it would be political suicide for him to lie. He can’t avoid questions about her when he’s made a point of talking about his sister’s case, appealing for information in most every public speech he’s made. If he suddenly stops talking about her, the press will know something is up and start aggressively pushing. He’s in a no-win situation. If she’s revealed to be alive before the vote, he’ll be accused of unfairly taking advantage of the public attention surrounding her return for his own political benefit. If her story has dark corners to it and the news of her return is held until after the vote, they’ll say it was hidden to avoid discussing his dysfunctional family history.”

“Best case for the brother, she doesn’t make contact with him until after the vote,” Matthew realized.

“Which creates its own complications for why she didn’t get in contact with her family once she came forward,” Ann said, “and why you or I didn’t say anything once her identity was confirmed. Today has already become day one in the articles
that are going to be written about her reappearance. And this case has got book material written all over it, even before I hear what happened to her over the last eleven years.”

Ann had written enough books to know what she was talking about on that score. “The timing of events will get scrutinized,” Matthew concurred. “
Day one
—she shows up, and we confirm she’s in fact Shannon Bliss.
Day two
 . . .”

“That’s the question. We can keep under wraps for a few days the fact she’s alive and has returned. Beyond that, this is not so simple. You could admit her to a private hospital, tell her brother she’s alive, let him announce it and where she’s at, but say he’ll make no further comment until after law enforcement concludes the investigation and medical personnel give their okay . . . hopefully stretch that out to get past the vote before she appears. That’s probably the cleanest way to keep the public onslaught of interest away from her.”

Matthew liked it even as he realized it wouldn’t be possible. “I suspect Shannon’s not going to voluntarily admit herself to a private hospital that has good enough security to keep the press out—she’s not going to willingly go back inside a secured environment, even a comfortable one. Maybe we can arrange a meeting with her brother, and then she disappears and stays out of the state until after the election. He can announce her safe return, that she’s recovering in a private location, and he’ll have nothing further to say on the matter until after the election.”

Ann thought for a moment but shook her head. “Anything that vague, the press will crush him for more information, and anyone else they can hammer on, so the number who know anything at all about Shannon Bliss and her whereabouts needs to remain a very small group. And it had better be a good hiding place—they’ll be looking for her with great intensity. The
press will reach from Theo to me because I pulled the case file, but I’m good at saying no comment. Your friend at the missing-persons registry will get identified because he accessed her records, but if he can hold the line, maybe the press can’t reach through him to you. If we can keep the press away from you, there’s a chance we can keep them away from her. You become the buffer.”

Matthew hesitated. “That’s good in theory, but the problem with wanting to stay beneath the radar—you start realizing how impossible it is to actually do that for any length of time. Tucking her somewhere no one finds her for five months when the press has a reason to be looking for her—it’s not going to be simple.”

“Whatever you decide, Paul and I can help you with the Chicago logistics,” Ann offered. “John Key can arrange a secure place for you to stay. I’ll put a call in to him to put that in motion. You won’t want to be in a hotel if the press somehow gets wind of this. And as far as a location for that family reunion, why don’t you consider using our home? It has good security, it’s neutral ground, it’s a comfortable place to have a conversation. A candidate for governor making a social call on the head of the Chicago FBI office at his home would not signal anything out of the ordinary to the press. Paul and I can slip away and go see friends for the evening.”

“It might be best if I made that first call to her brother,” Paul suggested, “and arrange the meeting. It will keep your name out of this until you’ve been able to meet the brother face-to-face and reach an understanding with him.”

“That’s a gracious offer and perfect for what we will need.” Matthew thought about the coming week and went straight to his top concern. “The situation I’d like to avoid at all costs
is my daughter getting badgered by the press for information about where I am and if Shannon is with me. If the press gets to me, I may need to step away from this just to keep Becky out of the public limelight. Can you give me some options for Shannon if she and I need to split up?”

“We can plan some contingencies,” Ann agreed. “There are safe places Shannon could go, safe people outside of her family who could help her. Rachel and Cole would be ideal. Bryce and Charlotte. We’ve got friends who have some experience that would be relevant to her situation.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could lay some groundwork with them in case it’s needed.”

“I’ll put together several options you can run by Shannon.”

Matthew’s phone chimed again. He tugged it out of his pocket. The DNA comparison results were in. He read the text message, sent a thanks, looked across at Ann, then put his focus on Paul. “The FBI lab results are back. DNA confirms she’s Shannon Bliss. And from what she’s told me so far, this ended for her sixteen days ago.”

Paul winced. “Have you ever heard of someone walking free after eleven years?”

“No. Someone helped her. She’s not yet talking about
who
.” Matthew pulled Shannon’s list from his pocket, scanned it to see what else he would be comfortable sharing. “She arrived in Atlanta two days ago. This is day sixteen of freedom. She doesn’t want to talk about it. The rest of what she wrote is more directed to me.” He slid the list back in his pocket. “She goes by the name Shannon White. I think she’s got a room in this hotel or one nearby, probably some luggage or at least some things she’s picked up—her clothes looked new, as did the sandals. She’s probably got a room key and cash in her pocket.
She’s not carrying a handbag. You’ll be able to find her on hotel security if you backtrack the sixth-floor video when she was waiting for me. She says she’s traveling alone, that no one is a concern here in Atlanta or Chicago, but that will change once it’s known she’s alive. She seems physically to be in pretty good shape, outside of being acutely tired.”

“It says a lot about how she got free of this that they think she’s dead,” Paul remarked. “What she can tell us will put one or more people in jail for life. Even those who helped would be looking at a decade or two of jail time. That’s reason to cause her harm, to keep her from talking with us, to not let her testify.” Paul sat forward. “It’s interesting she chose this law-enforcement conference, this hotel, to make her first contact. Did she say why she chose you?”

“Becky. She had an old newspaper clipping from the
Boston Globe
from the day my daughter was rescued.”

“Shannon’s been in Boston,” Paul said, interested.

“That’s my guess. She dodged the question rather than say yes or no.” Matthew passed over his phone with her photo. “What else?” Matthew asked, more for himself than them. “She said she didn’t have a valid driver’s license, which might imply she has a false one, but I’ve no idea what state you would look in. I’d say run her current photo through the entire system and see what shows up, but I don’t want that photo out there yet.”

“She’s what . . . twenty-seven now?” Paul asked.

“Yes. She appears to have a good hold on her emotions for now—either that or she can show you what she wants you to see. I think she has a mental checklist for the chronology she wants everything to proceed on, and she’s simply going to balk if pushed to take another course.”

Paul handed the phone to Ann, who studied the image long enough to memorize it, then handed back the phone.

“One immediate suggestion,” Paul offered, “is to build a photo array of people she can trust with names and contact numbers. Start with us. Take a photo. Show it to her. Give her our contact information. Go track down your friends at this conference and put the word out if Shannon calls, she gets helped, no questions asked.”

Matthew saw immediately why he needed Paul and Ann’s help. He should have thought of that step himself. “That’s a solid idea. I’ll get it done tonight.”

“I’ve got a phone you can give her,” Ann offered, getting to her feet. “Give me a second. I think it’s in my briefcase.” She looked at her husband. “That birthday gift for your nephew?”

“If it’s not in your briefcase, it’s in mine.”

Ann found it and returned. “A basic phone, as he likes to hike and keeps losing them. There’s a thousand minutes prepaid on it. You might as well have her unwrap it. Blue wrapping paper is probably not her color, but I doubt she’s had a lot of gifts recently.”

Matthew accepted it with a smile. “She’ll appreciate it.”

Ann took a seat beside her husband. “Do you think she might be willing to have breakfast with us here in the suite?”

“I can offer, but I’m not prepared to pressure her.” He looked over to Paul. “I don’t mind you backtracking hotel security video on her, learning what you can, but I’d like your word you won’t follow her if she leaves this hotel.”

“I’m comfortable with that, at least for the first few days,” Paul assured him. “We spook her, our chance of arresting who did it drops below fifty percent. She’s chosen to trust you. That’s where this has to start. I’d simply ask that you let information
flow both directions without much delay when you know something.”

Matthew nodded his thanks. “That’s not a problem.”

“The cold-case detective who currently has the case is Theodore Lincoln,” Ann told him. “You’ll like Theo. He’s thorough and careful and the right mix of patient cop and calm detective. He’s the one you want Shannon to talk with when she finally agrees to have a conversation with law enforcement.”

“I’m thinking I’ll give her that case summary report you printed out and then ask her if she’d like to speak with the guy who wrote it.”

“That might work,” Ann said. “Just for my own curiosity—how are you feeling tonight, Matthew, about all of this? Her sudden appearance, her choosing you?”

He grinned. “Notes for a book?”

“Humor me.”

“I’m deeply aware there is no margin for error right now. Shannon’s in the initial euphoria, the joy and relief of freedom stage, showing the first signs of the fatigue that comes on the downslope of those emotions. She’s like a fine-blown glass vase that has a hairline crack running through it, and someone just picked it up. The die is already cast. Set the vase down too hard and it’s going to shatter. Ease it down and apply some glue, it holds together. If she doesn’t shatter in the next six months, I’ll have been a help to her. But I can’t predict how this is going to go. I’m concerned I’m too much in the dark about what happened that I could make matters worse, because I’m working blind about what she’s been through.”

“She doesn’t know how fragile she is,” Ann stated quietly.

“I don’t think she has a clue. After the fatigue will come
the nerves that rip apart on sounds, smells, motions . . . all the memories and the nightmares are going to hit. Freedom lets the past have room to reappear in full Technicolor, no suppression allowed, and she’s not going to be able to avoid it.”

“You’ll get her through. She needs to trust someone. She chose you.”

“Let’s hope she made the right choice. I’ll call you in a few hours with an update on her plans. She may want to stay in Atlanta for a few days; she may ask that we head toward Chicago. Besides her request that we drive rather than fly, that situation is still evolving.”

“Ann and I will get up to speed on the details of the case file,” Paul told him. “Whatever you need, Matthew, just ask. You’ll find mountains can be moved with a case that’s going to turn high profile once the public knows she’s alive. We’ll clear what we can for you.”

“I appreciate that more than I can say,” Matthew replied. “I’ll ask one thing tonight. Since Shannon wants to drive, and you two are scheduled to fly back, could you pull Theodore Lincoln into a room, tell him she’s alive, and work out who’s going to handle the investigation that’s coming? I’m thinking four people—you two, Theo, and myself—is plenty to be in the loop while we’re still gathering the details. Make that five, as Gregory at the missing-persons registry knows.”