Ransomed Dreams (7 page)

“Did I tell you about meeting Gracie Lang? She’ll be James’s teacher next year.”

“Is this a clever diversion, or are you going to shoot straight with me?”

Steven held up his hands. “I’ll talk about Ryan if it’ll stop your bleeding heart.”

He shrugged. “Depends on what you say.”

“I’m still wrestling with the guilt about being too late to save him. Your praying doesn’t work for me, partner. It didn’t save my marriage and it doesn’t change the fact that kids die. On my watch.”

“God’s still in control, Steven.” Clint lifted his eyebrow. “Not
gonna sermonize this, but if you can’t pray my way, pray like you did when we first met. With the passion that keeps your backside in that chair when you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Too hard to live like that. It’s for younger men.” Steven adjusted his favorite photo. One of only two on his desk. “Remember graduation day at Quantico? Ten years ago. Man, we’re getting old.”

“Speak for yourself. Old is a state of mind and muscle.” And his were both in prime shape. So said his beautiful red-haired wife, who still looked as good as that picture his partner liked so much.

“You, me, and Sara bunched together looked like we could take on the world.”

“We still do.”

Steven sniffed. “A little worse for wear now.”

“I remember that my Irish princess tried to get Angela to join us for that photo. Tried for years to get her to open up and let us in.”

“This is supposed to help me?”

Clint leaned back in his chair. “Sorry I just don’t get it, even after all these years. She’s missed so much of James’s life.”

“So have I.” Steven swiveled his chair to look him in the eyes. “But after I got the call that Ryan died and I had James to take care of without my dad and Sue to help, I realized my little man is too important to keep missing time.”

“It’s not like you’re an absent father, Steven.”

“You know as well as I do that I haven’t given him everything I can.” He straightened his Looney Tunes tie.

Some quirks you never lost. Clint wished Steven played poker because his tie adjusting would be the perfect tell to wipe him clean.

“Don’t get stuck here again, Kessler. Think about graduation. How you led our group in prayers. How those young agents looked up to you then.” He nodded toward Michael Parker’s cubicle. “They still do now.”

“I’m pulling seniority. Agent Rollins. I think we need to get back to work.”

He pushed his chair back to his desk. “If I had my cowboy hat, I’d tip it to ya.”

“Save that for Sara. She’s the one who turns to mush when you’re in jeans and your Stetson.” Steven smirked and waved him on.

“Wonder what your sons teacher would do if she saw you in your workout garb.”

“Not gonna know if we don’t get work done, will we?”

Clint would leave it there for now. But they’d return to this subject soon. Real soon.

Agent Maxwell’s bellow could be heard across the room.

A portent of great things to come. Steven hit the save icon and waited.

“Kessler!” The unit chief stalked toward his desk. “I want you, as the top Crimes Against Children coordinator, heading this investigation and doing lead interviews.” Maxwell slapped a file down on his desk and rattled off the highlights. The senior agent reeked of cigar smoke, which only added to Steven’s increasing distaste for the assignment.

“This one is a high diplomatic priority Ambassador’s daughter abducted early this morning. Choose your team carefully, Kessler. If all goes well, this will be another one for the books.” With a slap on the back. Maxwell disappeared around the corner.

Steven scanned the documents in front of him. So much for an easy Saturday morning at work.

“What’d I tell you? You’re a legend in your own time.” Clint stood at his side.

Michael Parker joined them. “Who’s the vic?”

“Olivia Kensington, seventeen-year-old daughter of the British ambassador to the United States. Kidnapped from a
dance club shortly after midnight. The Evidence Response Team has already been dispatched.” Steven reached for the phone. “I’m going to set up an organizational meeting with Assistant US Attorney Kenneth Marks, and Special Agent David Adams. He’s over the Kensingtons’ security details. After that, we’ll do a short intro for our team, then head to the embassy.” He handed the case folder to Clint. “Ask Jan if she’ll prep this for briefing. Then you can push for the ERT’s report and round ’em up.”

“And head ’em out,” Clint said.

Thirty minutes later, Steven drove east across the steel blue Potomac to Massachusetts Avenue. Michael and Clint clicked keyboards, shuffled papers, and talked on cell phones the entire drive. Made of red brick and stone. Sir Walter Kensington’s home away from his London home looked like a sprawling English country house.

The place was still crawling with local police and ERT agents. A steaming British ambassador stood right in the center of everything. Clint and Michael jumped out of the car and into the thick of it to organize the scene and take charge of the investigation.

Steven invented a quick parking space amid all the police cars and then rushed up the cobbled sidewalk. Sir Walter made a beeline for him, eyes blazing. The diplomat’s slight rugby build and graying hair didn’t soften the rage roiling in his features.

“My assistant said you were in charge.” Sir Walter began his clipped speech before any typical British formalities. “You’d very well better be the last person I have to deal with today. Your president has given his word, and I expect my daughter returned to safety with haste.”

Sticking out his hand, Steven steeled his shoulders and held his chin high. This terrified father needed to see confidence and didn’t give a flip about past cases—successes or failures. Ryan’s bruised features intruded into Steven’s thoughts anyway. He shoved them away.

“I’m Agent Steven Kessler, FBI. Our Rapid Start Team is
already tracking investigative leads.” He motioned toward the embassy residence. “Can we find a quieter place to talk?”

Sir Walter shook his hand with a firm grip. But his bloodshot green eyes told a different story. The story of a father whose daughter was God knows where. “In here. Follow me.” The ambassador turned with a snap and entered the residence, striding past local officers and FBI personnel with no acknowledgment.

Steven nodded in passing and followed Sir Walter. The high ceilings and ornate decorations as they swept beyond bedrooms and formal halls were cataloged in his memory Choosing to take the teenager at a dance club rather than her residence was strategic. Small-scope operation. Few people involved.

Leaving Olivia’s purse just over the outer fence of the residence hinted at a far more personal motive. One he intended to flesh out today.

On entering the ambassador’s library, Sir Walter slammed the outer door. Motioning for Steven to sit, the ambassador stood by a sculpted cherry desk and yelled into the phone. “I will not be disturbed, Charlotte. Is that understood?” He slammed down the receiver.

“Sir Walter, tell me about Olivia and her friend Jordan.” Steven hoped the pacing older gentleman would soon take a seat. While he waited for the ambassador to respond, Steven scribbled notes the old-fashioned way—with a pen and yellow legal pad.

“They were impetuous and foolish, but I never dreamed they’d manufacture false identification to go out pubbing.” He swore under his breath. “I should have never let them go out celebrating graduation without protection. Seventeen or not, they should have had a Secret Service agent with them.”

“You knew about their IDs?”

“Not until a swarm of cops descended and thrust all manner of facts to my attention.” Sir Walter slumped into a high-backed leather chair. “This is entirely my fault.”

“Sir Walter, I’m sure this is beyond difficult, but let’s focus on possible suspects. That will speed up this investigation and help us bring Olivia and Jordan home as fast as possible.” Emotional father-speak wasn’t his forte, so he switched to his strong suit: facts. “Any threatening calls, recent trouble, or past boyfriends that come to mind?”

“My daughter and her best friend were not, how do you say it? Loose.”

“I didn’t mean to imply …”

“They were both highly intelligent young ladies who graduated ahead of schedule and wanted to celebrate their achievement. I had no reason to believe they could be in danger. None.”

“Yes, sir, I understand that. But you are a man of political importance and anything, no matter how insignificant, could be a great help to our investigation.”

Sir Walter steepled his fingers and sat up straight as a rod. “My assistant will give you copies of documented threats and any security concerns. She’s been working on that information ever since your police force invaded my home.”

“Any significance to you concerning Olivia’s purse being returned?”

The ambassador’s neck muscles bulged, and his face turned crimson. “I have no idea. Agent Kessler. It’s my understanding that falls under your job description.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many people are privy to the facts in this case?”

“Besides my team, the Evidence Response Team, the Rapid Start Team from the FBI, and local authorities involved with your 911 call, there’s also the Secret Service.”

Ambassador Kensington shot to his feet. “I did not want your emergency line contacted, and I do not want any more questions from local authorities.” He returned to pacing. “I want only your team involved in any further information sharing. All I need is for your press to find an easy leak and blast my family
or impede my work in the United States.”

Steven’s mind whirled with possibilities. “Who called 911?”

“My assistant, Charlotte Brown. She found the purse and became hysterical. She thought it had Olivia’s blood on it.”

“Was she close to Olivia?”

“Doubtful.”

A knock on the door interrupted the ambassador’s pacing. “I do not wish to be disturbed!”

A little sniffling voice called through the library entrance. “But, Papa, I can’t find Mum and these men following me won’t help.”

Steven had a hard time not smiling at the glowing report of the little girl’s Secret Service detail. He turned his attention to the files in his lap and waited.

Sir Walter crossed the room and jerked open the door. A little blond-haired girl in a long white sleeveless dress flung herself into his arms. He stroked her bright curls and held her tightly. “I’m sorry, Victoria dear. I’ll see if we can raise her on the phone.”

The little girl’s blue eyes filled with tears as the pair slipped behind the ambassador’s desk, and he picked up the receiver. “Eileen, I need you to attend to Victoria.” Sir Walter set his daughter on his desk chair and turned his back. “I don’t give a … Yes, I do understand. She still needs her mum. Now.”

Victoria watched her father’s terse conversation with wide eyes. Then she turned toward Steven. “Are you the one who’s going to bring my Livvie home?”

He guessed the precocious six-year-old had overheard far more than her little ears needed to know. “I’m going to do all I can.”

The little girl cocked her head. “I miss my sister. She was my only friend here in America, even if she was gone too often. Mum is dawdling on where I’m to attend school in September. Livvie was supposed to take me to lessons so we could have time together.”

Steven adjusted his tie. This little girl had no real concept of
the storm that raged around her. But something in her China doll features made his insides knot in a tighter ball. Too bad she and his son didn’t attend the same school. James would have loved being friends with another child his age who spoke as comfortably with adults as he did.

“Are you a papa?”

Steven nodded. “I have a son about your age.”

“I should like to meet him.” Victoria was well on her way to becoming a charming hostess.

He glanced at his watch and hoped the ambassador wouldn’t continue his conversation much longer. Every second counted. At the same time, people in a traumatic circumstance needed careful attention. Even a child, especially one this verbal, could supply helpful information. If he chose his words with care.

“Where did you and Livvie like to spend time together?”

“At the parks. We would walk with those big men following and whisper about being princesses and finding a magic carpet to take us far away Like Princess Jasmine.”

“From
Aladdin
?”

Victoria’s face creased with a grin. “You watch Disney movies? I thought all adults watched dull sports or news shows.”

Ambassador Kensington ended his conversation. “Are you entertaining or grilling my youngest daughter? Neither will return Olivia, will it?”

Steven stiffened. His time would be better served interviewing the assistants, for all the help Sir Walter had offered between his succinct rants. Nonspecific answers. No possible suspects. Many diplomats had lists of enemies to rattle off at a moment’s notice. Finger-pointing and politics seemed to go hand in hand.

“If you have no further questions, I’d like to complete our discussion at this time.” Sir Walter passed his chair and moved to the library door.

Steven’s cell phone buzzed. Offering up a silent plea, he nodded to the ambassador. “I will be in touch soon, sir.”

“Good day.”

Steven shook his head as the library door shut on his heels. He flipped open his phone and headed back to his Explorer. “Kessler.”

“Got some interesting leads to run by you.” Michael Parker’s voice boomed through his cell. “And a very irate American father in the command center who’s asking for your head. Want to handle it now or later, boss?”

“I’ll be right over.” Steven returned the phone to his belt clip and checked his watch. Still inside twelve hours. They needed a strong lead—soon. Maybe Jordan’s father would supply more information than Sir Walter. Not likely But he could hope.

Little Victoria’s words dogged his footsteps. “
When will you bring my Livvie home?”
Deep in his gut he felt the teenagers were unharmed. So far. The bits of evidence melding together into a working theory increased his pace through the English estate grounds.