“Agent Gerhardt, I understand your frustration, believe me. I can’t explain how this happened. Our security system malfunctioned in the early hours last night, and several of the doors were accessed remotely. I assure you, it would take a hacker of extraordinary talent to be able to hack into our system. We are looking into rectifying the breach at the moment.”
“Well, that’s just fantastic, thank you for that reassurance,” I snark back. “Doesn’t help my missing niece now, does it?” Was it just last night that I made that wish for no more surprises? Is there some divine being up there just laughing down at me as they throw more shit my way? Fuck - my parents. How am I supposed to tell them?
Doctor Thornberry sputters at my sarcastic tone, and unable to deal with her empty platitudes, I hang up on her, missing the days of phones that you could slam down. It just doesn’t have the same effect on a cell phone.
Running my hands through my hair, I storm over to my couch, grab a cushion off it, and scream as loud and hard as I can into it. It doesn’t help as much as I thought it would. Flopping down onto the couch, I rest my head in my hands, just breathing.
You’re FBI, dumbass. There are bound to be cameras that would have caught her. Something. No way does someone break into a secure place like New Beginnings and smuggle a patient out without some shred of proof being left behind.
And who the fuck would take her, anyway? One of her former clients? A relative of someone she killed? Or—fuck. My eyes fly wide at the thought. How could I forget about Vincenzo Gianelli? Chase was working for him, and he was going to take Rebecca back to him. What if—
My runaway thoughts are interrupted by my phone’s ringtone. Frowning at the unknown number, I throw caution to the wind and answer it. If it’s a scammer, they can get a taste of the wrath I’m holding back by just a thread.
“Gerhardt.”
“Miss me, whore?” comes the sarcastic drawl I had come to know and love. I swear my heart stops for just a second before it begins to stampede like a herd of wild horses.
“Dutch?” I screech, hurting my own ears with the ear-splitting sound. “You’re okay? Fuck! Where are you?”
She cackles down the phone at me, and I hold it away from my ear, grimacing. Gently putting it back, she says, “I can’t tell you, not right now. There’s some shit going down, and it’s big. Real big, Susannah.”
“And you can’t tell me? Fuck, Dutch, I’ve been going out of my mind worrying about you. I have so much to tell you! Did you know that-”
She cuts me off with a snarl. “That Chase was the fucking mole? Yeah. He’s the one that kidnapped me. Fucking locked me up in a cage to send me home to daddy.”
“No! How did you escape?”
“That’s what I can’t tell you. Not yet, anyway. Listen. In a few weeks, you’re going to see something on the news. You won’t miss it; you’ll know what it is when you see it. There’s a group of us. We’ll contact you once this part is done.”
My brows lower in a scowl. She’s being abnormally cryptic and I don’t like it. “Dutch, I don’t understand. Why—”
“And there’s one more thing I need to tell you. It’s important. Rebecca is with us. She’s safe, so don’t worry.”
“What?” I shout, shaking my head back and forth. “Why is she—”
“All will be revealed soon, I promise. Just don’t worry. In a few weeks, you’ll know everything, and Rebecca will be back to tell you. Look, I gotta go. Love ya, babe.” And with that, she’s gone.
Throwing my phone across the room, I watch with satisfaction as it shatters against the wall. Then I grab a cushion and scream into it again. Doesn’t help any better than it did the first time.
***
It’s been three weeks since Rebecca disappeared and I heard from Dutch. Three nail-biting, anxious weeks where I swear I’ve developed forty-two new grey hairs—which I amwaytoo young for—and possibly an ulcer. Sitting the coffee cup aside at the thought of that, I look out over my city. Chicago. Now that spring has arrived, I can enjoy it again, especially after the winter we just had. The sun is shining, the daffodils and tulips are blooming—and yet here I am, glaring out at it from my office as if I just found dog shit on my shoe.
Waiting is a bitch. Seriously. Every day I’m scanning news reports, even going so far as to record multiple news channels worldwide so that I don’t miss out on what Dutch was hinting at. When I see her again, I might just smack her over the head for not being more specific.When, notif.I refuse to believe that I won’t see my friend again.
My stomach rumbles and a quick glance at the clock confirms that it’s not too early for lunch. Grabbing a container of fruit salad out of my bag, I sit down at my desk and switch on BBC news. I got into the habit of watching it when I was working on the international trafficking case, and I’ve never quite lost it since.
“This is BBC News at six,” intones the reporter. “Scotland Yard can confirm today that a large sex trafficking ring has been taken down.”
My spoon clatters to the desk, fruit juice splattering across the files strewn across it. Grabbing the remote, I turn it up, haphazardly dabbing at the mess with a Kleenex as my eyes stay glued to the screen.
“And not just taken down, but eliminated,” she goes on to report. “Believed to be the work of vigilantes, fifty-six members have been killed, in what appears to have been a meeting amongst the various heads of the ring. Scotland Yard, Interpol, and the FBI have been working jointly to try to bring down this ring for a number of years, and now, it seems, someone has completed the task for them.”
Holy Mary and Joseph.Dutch, what have you done?
The camera pans out to the male reporter sitting next to her. “Surely, April, you don’t condone vigilante justice.”
April turns to him with a small laugh and wave of her hand. “Of course not, Rowan. We can’t have people wandering the streets, meting out justice in how they see fit. But as a mother of three small children, I will say this—I will definitely be sleeping better tonight knowing those criminals are off the streets.”
