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Authors: Sandra Brannan

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BOOK: Noah's Rainy Day
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I couldn’t see the images but I could hear the TV announcer’s voice saying, “… a couple minutes ago at a press conference held in his office complex. His former wife, Melissa Williams, Los Angeles supermodel, also presented a brief statement about their son’s disappearance.”

The voice faded and a new one took its place. A confident voice that spoke with authority said, “And to whoever has our little Max, make your
demands quickly and return him safely or you will have hell to pay from me. I will hunt you down like an animal. I will do what I have to and show you no mercy. And I will leave you to suffer a lingering and painful death if you so much as touch one hair on my little boy’s head. But if you return him safely and soon, I will meet your demands. And I will not involve the authorities. We just want little Max to be returned safely to his mother and me.”

I heard every word and wished I could see the TV.

Mom was reminding Dad how Auntie Ida had dated this man a long time ago. I don’t remember meeting any man named Maximillian Bennett Williams II, but I would have only been four or five. The missing boy’s age. I kind of remembered, or there was something familiar about it all. I heard the TV announcer say something about a rough home video of the young boy playing on the slide at a neighborhood or school yard playground. The lady was remarking on the red and golden leaves covering the ground and how the trees in the background were bare. All I noticed was the kid’s laugh.

The lady was describing what the boy had been wearing when he disappeared but all I could hear was the voice of an excited five-year-old saying, “Nanny Judy! Nanny Judy! Watch this!”

Then I heard the voice of a woman with an English accent. “Maximillian, say hello to your mummy and daddy first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the little boy compliantly agreed. “Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! I’m having a good time, but I miss you. I love you! Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! Nanny Judy, watch this!”

I had no idea what my mom and dad were watching the little boy do, but whatever it was, the kid was laughing. Hard. He sounded like he was running, occasionally breathless, and his laugh filled the speakers of the television and poured through my vent. His laugh reminded me of a kid I had heard in kiddie land at Six Flags last summer. A crowd had actually gathered around the mini-roller-coaster near the Ferris wheel, just to listen to the kid laugh. Even the teenagers, who never think it’s cool to hang out near kiddie land or the Ferris wheel, decided to stick around to hear the kid laugh.

I heard my mom chuckle, too, and wondered if she was thinking the
same thing I was thinking. I heard the lady on the TV with the English accent laugh. The boy’s laughter was unique, contagious, born only from someone who was truly filled with joy. When the boy repeated his command, “Watch this!” as he laughed and laughed, my laugh became so intense my body tightened into a ball and my laugh had no sound.

And just like last summer, I felt the hot trickle of laughter tears streak down my cheek, the tickling drip in my ear making me laugh harder. I breathed deeply and made a gasping noise to catch my breath, my stomach muscles cramping.

I heard my Mom run up the stairs, concerned with my loud gasp. She patted my thin leg through my sweatpants. “Oh, good. You’re laughing. I thought you were choking.”

Emma ducked through the door. “On elf puke.”

CHAPTER 36

 

I’M MISSING ALL THE
Christmas morning joy right now.

Instead, here I was in Control Operations lab, showering in a tiled stall intended as an emergency wash station for flushing chemicals off skin or from eyes. Luckily, Jack had the bright idea that Streeter and I freshen up before heading back to the airport. I had taken a quick nap while Streeter showered and now it was his turn to take a nap. I decided to let him sleep. I stayed in the hot shower longer than I should have, enjoying the clean feeling and the heat massaging my sore ribs.

This time yesterday, Christmas Eve morning, I had been off to the mountains with Michael and Beulah for two hours of training that had ended in a tangle with a cougar and more scrapes and bruises. Then I was off to help Frances with Christmas dinner. I never got a morsel of that fabulous feast, as dinner was interrupted by a call from Streeter about the very case Frances and I were watching unfold on the evening news. I didn’t know then that I wouldn’t get to enjoy sleep for a long while, instead scouring DIA along with the rest of Denver’s finest until we found the boy.

If
we found the boy.

I heard something and turned off the shower. I waited for a minute, listening, hearing nothing but the drip of water. It must have been one of
Jack’s team members moving around. Probably warning me my time was up. I stepped out of the shower and nearly tripped over my heap of discarded clothes.

I slipped into a change of clothes that Streeter had scavenged for me. He always had an extra set for himself. He had told me on my first day in the office to bring my own set, suggesting that once I was on a scene with a corpse, I would understand the urgency of changing into fresh clothes and possibly burning the old. Of course, I had procrastinated and hadn’t heeded his good advice. So here I was wearing a set of clothes that belonged to Kelleher, who was taller and much better dressed than me on his worst day. The black T-shirt I slipped over my head was silky and thin. The gray pants were lined and tailored to hug his lean frame, which meant they were super tight on me. Or at least, tighter than I liked. I slipped into a fresh pair of socks and laced up my boots.

I scooped up my heap of dirty clothes and bounded down the short hall.

“Jack!” I said, startled when I bumped into him. It struck me as strange and wonderful at the same time to see him this close to the shower. “What are you doing here?”

Jack smirked, “Making sure you had your privacy.”

“That was thoughtful,” I said, shifting my dirty clothes to my other arm so they wouldn’t be between us.

He breathed in my scent, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on top of my head. “You smell clean.”

“You feel amazing,” I said, melting into his embrace.

“We just got word that Mr. and Mrs. Williams held a press conference here in Denver. The story has been picked up by the AP,” Streeter’s voice said, interrupting us.

Jack stared into my face, a longing look in his liquid eyes. He kissed the top of my head and took a step back, allowing room for me to pass him.

I stretched up on my tiptoes and pecked Jack on the cheek and whispered, “Merry Christmas.”

Jack cleared his throat, his eyes holding mine, telling me all the things I wanted to hear. To Streeter, he said, “I thought you told them not to do that.”

Streeter had his back turned to us, staring off into the lab, allowing us the private moment. “I did.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Officers are on their way to escort them back out to DIA as we speak,” Streeter said, eyeing me, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he scanned me from head to toe, assessing how the borrowed garb clung to my frame.

“Don’t say it. Whatever you’re thinking,” I warned.

He grinned, handed me his oversized, rag wool sweater, which I tugged on over my wet head, self-conscious that both men might be eyeing my curves as I did.

Streeter said, “Are you ready?”

And we were off. I studied the airport security camera diagram all the way to DIA while drinking the coffee Streeter had given me.

“Did you eat something?”

I shook my head. “Not since Jack brought food last night. You?”

He said nothing.

I took a break from studying the diagram as we drew closer to the airport. I stared out the window at the high, asymmetrical peaks of fabric over DIA’s main terminal and finally saw what the architect had been trying to simulate. The peaks really did look like snowcapped Rocky Mountains. Kind of. If I squinted really hard.

“What are you seeing?” he asked.

Again, I thought he could read my mind, until I realized he was talking about the diagram. “I’m seeing some possibilities. But I want to try some things out first. What did you find out about Judy Manning? Anything yet?”

“We’re checking out the hotels in the area. And the flights out of Denver. We’ll find her.”

“And hopefully she’ll lead us to little Max.”

My cell phone chirped. I noticed it was Frances’s phone number. “Do you mind if I answer this? It’s my sister.”

He said, “No.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you going to make it for breakfast?” Frances asked. Her voice sounded tentative and I hated to disappoint her.

“No, Frances,” I answered, glancing over at Streeter who offered me a sympathetic look. “I took a quick shower at the field office and we’re headed back to the airport.”

There was a long pause. “Frances?”

“Is … everything okay? I mean, I know you can’t share any details, but the boy, is he going to be okay?”

I glanced over to Streeter who could hear Frances, the volume being set to high. He blew out a deep breath.

“I hope so. If we stay on it. It’s way too early to give up yet,” I said, wondering if I believed it myself and finding that I truly did.

“Well, the kids were waiting to open their gifts from Santa until you came home.”

“Better not.”

“Okay,” Frances said. “Merry Christmas, Boots.”

“Merry Christmas. Give them a hug from me.”

“Oh, and Emma wants to tell you something.”

I smiled as her cheerful voice said, “Santa Claus came. Where are you? Are you coming home? We want to open presents.”

“You do that, Princess. I’ll have to miss this year. Show me everything when I get home, okay? Bye, sweetie.”

“No wait! Noah wanted me to tell you something. He won’t tell me why, but he said to tell you that Clint’s field trip to Baugh House was last year. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

God bless Noah. He was figuring out the case of the missing backpack. “I do.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t. Noah and I did a pinky swear. Just like you and me when you cut your bangs last summer and I covered for you. A secret’s a secret.”

She hung up on me, which ended our call.

“The work can be brutal sometimes,” Streeter offered. “Especially on families over the holidays.”

I looked out the window at the heavy flakes sailing by my window. “Not as brutal as it would be if I pretended that the boy wasn’t missing and I just went home until the next workday. I couldn’t live like that.”

He smiled.

“Streeter? Do you have family?” I knew little about Streeter. I wanted to learn more about him. And Jack.

He didn’t answer for a long time. “Used to.”

I knew he had lost his wife. She was murdered. But I didn’t know anything else about him. His answer could mean they were all dead or it could mean he was estranged from them. I had no idea.

But one thing I did know.

Now wasn’t the time to ask.

CHAPTER 37

 

STUDYING THEM, I SENSED
a change between Max and Melissa this morning—a tenderness with one another I hadn’t seen before.

Everyone gathered around the small folding table at airport HQ—a total count of six people with me, Streeter, Max, Melissa, Phil, Kelleher, and another police officer I hadn’t met yet. Tony was still at home with his kids for Christmas. Streeter calmly said, “We do have some information about your son and will share it with you as soon as you answer a few questions for us.”

That got Melissa’s attention. I wasn’t so sure about Max.

“Our people tell us neither of you have heard any word from the kidnappers. Is that true?”

Max furrowed his brow. “Yes, of course. Why would you think we would know something your people didn’t?”

“Because you made it clear at the press conference that you had no intention of involving us,” Streeter countered. “And you told us you wanted to find the guy first, remember?”

“Oh, come on. What are we supposed to say? That was for the kidnapper’s sake,” Max said, putting his hands up in surrender.

“You were supposed to say nothing. Agent Pierce made that clear to
you last night,” I said, not wanting Max to bully his way through the issues like he was used to doing.

Streeter cleared his throat. “You told us in your interview that your people were working on locating your son. Without our assistance. I just want to make sure your people are not withholding information from us. You see, that would be a federal offense. This is not intended as a civics lesson, but rather as a warning. Unequivocally.”

“We’ll call you the minute we’re contacted,” Max said with a shrug.

“Are you well versed in bugging devices? To capture a kidnapper’s call? Or would you prefer our New York Bureau tap your home line?”

Max clearly knew the rules. “I am not giving permission to any federal agency to install listening devices of any kind on our phone lines or in either of our homes. Not in New York, not in Missy’s LA home, and not in our hotel room here in Denver.”

Did he say
our
room? Are they actually staying together?

“And yes, I am familiar with bugging devices. Corporate espionage is a reality in my line of work. I have become very successful by outsmarting my competition on development projects. I take risks and I attack opportunity. I hedge my bets by making sure no one else knows my strategy, so I have a habit of routinely sweeping my living and working spaces for bugs.”

Streeter had my attention. His technique for quickly harvesting information was amazing. Max had a reputation for being impenetrable and Streeter had garnered so much already from him in the private interviews. Now he was letting Max save face and exercise some muscle with Melissa in the room.

“Makes sense. Especially since our people in the New York Bureau have shared what they’ve gathered about the people you deal with daily.”

Max was not easily surprised and had a reputation for always being prepared to swing regardless of the curve ball thrown at him, but Streeter had caught him flat-footed with this one. I could see it in Max’s eyes. I was beginning to think Max actually hated Streeter more than he hated me.

BOOK: Noah's Rainy Day
6.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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