Cold Silence (A High Stakes Thriller) (16 page)

"No, nothing."

"You've checked the E-mail again?"

"Jesus, no. I didn't even think."

"Do it again as soon as you get home. He'll probably contact you soon for money. How are you for cash?"

Travis shook his head. "Jesus."

Cody felt herself panic. "They'll ask for a lot—we can expect to need ten to twenty percent what you're worth in cash to meet the ransom. You can leverage your house and your business, I'm sure. What are you worth?"

He looked up at her blankly.

"What are you worth? What do the papers say is your worth? About $100 million, right? It might give us an idea of what they'll ask, so we can start getting things ready."

Travis shook his head. "I haven't even received a ransom note yet."

"I want to start thinking about all the angles. I want to be ready when they ask." She thought about Travis's words. Why wouldn't the kidnapper have asked for money yet? Was he just making him sweat? She tried to remember back to her colleagues at the Bureau. After years of relying on her own resources, Cody was wired to work alone. And as long as she'd had Ryan, she'd been okay. She didn't want someone's help. She wanted Ryan back. She didn't think she'd survive without him.

She focused on the problem. The MO brought her back to Landon's business. His company developed software to build Web pages. Whoever had kidnapped Ryan was somewhat techno-savvy. Not unlike someone who might work for Landon. Or might have worked for him. An ex-employee?

She hesitated, looking back at the picture of R.J., not wanting to move it from the screen for fear that it might be gone when she went back. That was ridiculous, she told herself. Still, she hit Ctrl-P and heard her printer click on as the image began to materialize on the page.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Checking something."

She chose File, Save as, and chose Text as the document type. She typed the file name
Kidnap
and felt her own insides stiffen. When the file was saved, she launched Microsoft Word and opened Kidnap. At the top, it clearly said PageMaker. Not TecLan Pro. She exhaled, deflated.

"What?"

"PageMaker. I was thinking it might have been—"

"TecLan Pro? You were thinking it was someone from my company?"

She cracked a knuckle, ignoring the strange glance she got from Landon. "We have to think. Assuming this person was after Peter, why? Who would want to hurt you like that?"

"Jesus, this is nuts."

"It's most likely personal. Statistically speaking, these crimes usually are."

He looked up at her. "You a crime buff?"

She didn't answer him. Instead she tried to think through who might want to make Travis Landon's life a living hell. There was the competition, but she couldn't see LandStar or TelMart taking their business this far. Those companies weren't suffering because of Landon's business. This wasn't Microsoft and Apple; this was normal business competition. She dismissed another company and continued to think.

"Maybe they're after money?" Travis added, his voice still stunned.

She thought about his theory. "Maybe. We have to wait for a ransom note. In the meantime, we should consider other possibilities."

She found herself coming back to the idea that it was personal. She knew Landon was right—money was a good motive. Someone could have heard about his money, heard about his dead wife and found out where his kid went to school. But Cody didn't want to believe it was a random kidnapping. If it wasn't personal on some level, the chances of finding the kidnapper dwindled to almost nil. And that meant the chances of finding Ryan alive were that low as well. And that, she refused to think about.

"What about an ex-employee? Someone who quit." It might even make more sense that they hadn't used TecLan Pro. Wouldn't that be too obvious?

Travis looked at the screen and shook his head. "Maybe. There've been people who've left..."

Cody jumped on his pause. "Not just someone who left. Was there anyone you fired or forced to leave? Someone who is unbalanced, angry. Someone who felt cheated. I know it's not the only possibility, but it's one we can manage." She had to keep it manageable.

Travis put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. "It's possible. I can think of a couple people who swore they'd get back at me. But kidnapping?"

"Can we get files for those people? I want to know who they are and where they live and where they grew up and went to school."

He nodded weakly. "I'll get the files and we'll call Dusty McCue."

She paused, thinking of McCue again. The situation had changed. She could no longer count on help from the Bureau. The kidnapper was no longer a known entity. It was like trying to grasp onto a handful of sand and it kept slipping through her fingers.

"He's the best bet if we want to keep the police out of it. And Peter's in danger here. If someone realizes that they got the wrong child, they may come after him. I need to protect him. I can't just stand by and do nothing."

She forced herself to nod. "Okay."

Cody put her hand out and stopped Landon from taking another step. "Okay, we'll use McCue, but that's it. No one else, and he needs to keep this completely quiet. No one else." She studied his reaction. "There can be no police. You need to understand that it's a matter of life and death."

Landon looked puzzled but he nodded. "No police. I swear. Plus, it's probably in our best interests to keep it quiet, especially if that someone still thinks he's got Peter."

The thought frightened her. She hoped Ryan just played along with whatever the kidnapper said.

"Can you tell me what you have against the police? Is it something you did?"

She watched him, knowing the question was coming. She had to answer it. Not because he deserved an answer. He didn't deserve anything. But she knew he would be curious and he might start digging around. And she didn't want to risk that he might find anything. Even discovering that Cody O'Brien had no credit history beyond three years ago was too much. "His father is on the police force. Ryan was abused," she said. "We were both abused."

He sank low into the chair.

It appeared to be working so Cody continued. "Badly abused by R.J.'s father. We got away, but it hasn't been easy. We've been living here for a few years and I don't think..." She paused, inventing as she spoke. "I don't think Carl knows where we are. But he still works in law enforcement in California. When R.J.'s picture got out—if it got out—he'd find us. He'd find me. And if I found R.J., we'd end up back there. It wouldn't be as easy next time."

"Your husband was a cop and he abused you? That's terrible."

She nodded slowly. "It happens more than you think."

Landon eyed her head to toe as though summing up the kind of woman who was abused by a cop husband. "Weren't there legal channels you could follow to get away?"

She looked away, continuing the charade. She could do this. She could lie until kingdom come, if she had to. "I tried the legal channels. We had restraining orders and trials and doctor's reports showing the breaks and bruises. Everyone was vigilant for a while—the local police, the neighbors. But if someone wants to get at you, the truth is, a piece of paper won't stop them."

Landon laid a hand on her shoulder. "You won't risk that Carl finds out."

She nodded, relieved both that he remembered the name and that he seemed to understand.

He nodded in return and lifted his hand. "Okay. We'll use McCue, then."

"You should make sure he gets access to a full list of ex-employees or contractors of TecLan. That's probably the best place to start. That and... does he have any experience with cyber crimes?"

Travis wore a blank expression. "Cyber crimes?"

"This website is criminal. There are ways to track the activity using specialized software to where the signals to the site are coming from."

She paused at his expression. "It was on an episode of
Justice Files,"
she offered.

He nodded. "I've seen that show." He looked at the computer and then shook his head. "I don't know. I'll find out, though." He grabbed a piece of paper from the printer and started to make notes. "I'll see when McCue can meet us. He swears complete discretion, but I can understand if you don't want to meet him. You don't have to. And I can warn him about your ex, if you think that's smart."

Did she want to meet McCue? Not particularly, but it seemed hard to imagine losing control over the investigation. Maybe there was more she could do on her own. Maybe there were ways for her to track down the owner of the website on her own.

"I'll call him as soon as I get home." She thought about what pieces she'd put into play. It didn't matter that she'd packed up the house and wiped away all the prints. She'd shredded documents, though nothing that was really important. But what if Jennifer had answered the phone last night? She'd almost made contact with the Bureau again. She'd paged Jennifer without leaving a return number. At least she hadn't given anything away. It would be a mistake to contact them. No FBI. No law enforcement.

"All right," she said, still thinking about how close she'd come to unleashing the past. What if she had? Would Jennifer have insisted on getting the Bureau involved? Would her situation have leaked out?

Landon took a step closer. "I know you're scared," he said and she frowned, wondering what he'd seen in her face. Whatever it was, he had no idea why she was scared or about what. "Your husband was a bastard, Cody."

She flinched at the reference to Mark. He was referring to her fictional husband, she knew, but it reminded her of the loss all the same.

"But that doesn't mean everyone is." He set his hand on her shoulder.

Landon's fingers tightened on her shoulder, and for a moment the pressure was almost a relief. She stood and moved across the room. "Go ahead and contact McCue."

"I'll call right away. He's been standing by until I talk to you. What time works for you?"

"I'll be there when he's ready. The sooner, the better. Maybe I can find something in the meantime." Cody went to whosit.com and typed in the website address. She watched the information come up. The site was supposedly registered to a John Doe of Portland, Maine. The P.O. box was 12345. Definitely a fake. "Damn."

Travis watched over her shoulder. "Not listed."

There were other ways to do it, but she didn't want Landon to see what she knew how to do.

There was nothing more to say, so she turned her back to Landon and clicked back to the url with Ryan's picture.

She heard the front door open and click shut and she went to the door and checked that Landon was gone. Back in the chair, she spent the next thirty minutes trying all the tricks she knew for tracing a site without special Bureau resources. None of them worked. Whoever had set up this site knew how to avoid a trace.

Her stomach heavy, she ran her finger along her baby's face and found herself with so many prayers, she didn't even know where to begin. She prayed the kidnapper didn't realize his mistake too soon. If he realized he didn't have Travis Landon's child, she didn't know how he would react.

She wondered if she was right not to involve the police. What if they could find him faster? Or the Bureau? At least there she had contacts. Maybe Jennifer's team could track the website within hours.

The biggest risk was still the newspapers. She'd seen them freak out kidnappers and make them dispose of children where they claimed they wouldn't have otherwise. And she'd also seen times when the press helped locate someone who knew something. She tried to remember what she knew about hostage negotiation. What did they do when there was no ransom? No demands yet.

Each time she thought she was better off without the police, she tipped back the other way and wondered if they would discover some clue to finding him faster. "Oh, baby," she whispered.

Using all available resources was worth the risk that Kirov found her if it meant she found Ryan first. But what if somehow Kirov got to him? She'd been so used to a private life, to lying to everyone, that she couldn't imagine dialing 911 and telling them her story. And yet, she knew she alone would have to live with the risks of not calling.

What if she made a mistake? What if her decisions cost her Ryan?

She right-clicked her mouse on the picture and saved it to the computer's wallpaper, then copied it into her picture software to expand it. Just the motion of doing something made her feel better.

She enlarged the picture to 130 percent until Ryan filled her computer screen. She toggled up and down, studying the background, his clothing, his hands, face, ears, hair, every detail in search of a clue. Just like a crime scene she told herself. A photo of one. Every few minutes her eye caught his and she felt as though the breath were being sucked from her. She forced her gaze away, then noticed the index finger on his left hand was curved back toward him as though pointing. At first, it looked like his hand might have been tucked in his pocket, but she could see all four fingers and his thumb. What was he doing?

She followed the line of his finger until she saw a small shadow on the edge of one of the folds of his shirt.