Chapter 7
Seven
“Are all lawyers screamers?” Cringing, Lauren shrank in her seat across the conference table from Cam. “I can’t believe I used to think Aidan was bad. He’s a fucking lightweight compared to . . .” She waved a hand the direction of Bowers’s office, and Cam couldn’t agree with her more.
Nic and his boss had been going at it—Cam checked his watch—a solid hour, their voices escalating louder by the minute. Two offices lay between them, yet Cam could still make out every few words between the two attorneys.
“Fucked up . . . more resources . . . irresponsible . . . what you wanted . . . turned on you . . . forced us . . . We’re screwed . . . Fix this . . .” The tirade went on.
Cam and Lauren weren’t the only ones privy to the shouting match.
In the war room with them were another attorney and paralegal working on a continuance, neither of whom seemed all that fazed by their bosses’ argument, and a team of agents Cam had brought down to brief on kidnap and extraction scenarios.
He should have sent them back up to thirteen when he’d finished the debrief, but he wasn’t sure what Nic might want to run through once he escaped Bowers.
The answer to that question was an emphatic “Clear the room.”
Everyone scurried at Nic’s bark, and Cam could tell it was a struggle for him not to slam the door behind them. As it were, once he’d forced himself to close it gently, Nic stood with his rigid back to the room, arms spread, hands clutching the doorframe.
“Breathe, Price.”
It took a good thirty seconds of measured breaths, Nic’s long torso heaving up and down, before he dropped his arms and turned. He rounded the table and collapsed into the chair next to Cam. “We’re fucked,” he said.
Acting on impulse—more and more of those sneaking through in Nic’s presence—Cam rolled his chair closer, their knees brushing under the table.
Nic’s hand came down on his leg and Cam was certain he was going to shove him away, the impropriety here in the office a step too far, but Nic’s fingers dug into his thigh instead.
All of that frustration needed an outlet; Cam was happy to provide it. “I got that much.”
“Did you figure out how this happened?”
Ignoring the warm, tempting weight of Nic’s unmoving hand, Cam drew the laptop over and opened the playback of the courthouse security footage.
The time stamp was three minutes after the judge had called them to order.
Cam pressed Play and the stairwell door he’d earlier entered, the one from the clerk’s office, opened. A young, suited woman appeared first.
“That’s Judge Booth’s law clerk,” Nic said. “Lily Kramer.”
Cam nodded. “Passed her up on sixteen when I first came in. Looked like she was waiting for someone outside the clerk’s office.”
“Him,” Nic said, eyes glued to the young man who’d appeared on-screen, following Lily through the door.
With his shaggy black hair and too-huge suit, the man didn’t look like another lawyer or anyone Cam recognized from the Federal Building elevators.
Steno pad in hand, glasses perched on the end of his pointy nose, most people would mistake him for a reporter or, given how young he looked, maybe an interested law student.
Interested in more than just the law, judging by the way he’d brazenly flirted with Lily.
And she’d bought it, letting an unauthorized person into the chambers hallway.
“I don’t recognize him,” Nic said.
“I didn’t either,” Cam replied. “The hair and glasses may be a disguise. The suit certainly doesn’t fit.
” In any event, he was attractive enough to catch Lily’s attention.
On-screen, he moved in for a kiss, much the same way Cam had on Nic in the same hallway, only when the stranger got close to his target, he slipped something out of his coat pocket.
A second later, Lily collapsed against him, and he lowered her to the floor.
“She okay?” Nic asked.
“Probably out of a job, but otherwise, yes, she’s fine. He drugged her with something and stashed her in Judge Booth’s chambers.”
When the stranger emerged into the hallway, he headed straight for Abby’s holding room, pretended to be the bailiff in the accompanying audio, and Tony opened the door for him.
The guard’s gut met the business end of another syringe.
Not long after, the man dragged Abby out by the arm, disappearing with her into the stairwell.
“Where’d they go from there?” Nic asked.
Cam flipped to another security footage view. “Down to the parking garage and out. He swiped the clerk’s access card and keys.”
“Fucking hell we’re fucked.” Nic fell back in the chair, withdrawing his hand and scrubbing both over his face. “Who even was that? Is he working for Becca or someone else?”
“Facial recognition didn’t register, but we found the syringes in a parking garage trash can. Partial print. Lauren’s running it now.”
Nic dropped his hands into his lap. “Let’s just hope it pings.”
“How’s Tony?” Cam asked. A sad reprieve from the immediate issue but one nonetheless. Cam was genuinely concerned about the guard, whose status was being reported to Bowers.
“Triple dose. Doctors were amazed he managed to fight through it and open the door. They’re monitoring him overnight for complications. Barring any, he should be released tomorrow.”
“Good, good.”
Nic hung his head, stretching out his neck, then rolled his head and shoulders, face angled toward Cam.
“Prelim is in a week. We’ll move for a continuance, but we need to get Abby back.
” The concerned weariness in his eyes said he was worried about more than just his case.
Abby had not looked like a willing participant on that tape.
She’d looked like a hostage. But still, Cam had to ask .
. . “Are we sure that wasn’t an act on Abby’s part? ”
His eyes narrowed. “Did that look voluntary to you?”
“That’s why I asked if it was an act. Why do you trust her?”
“Because Becca’s got leverage on her sister. You know that. Cooperating with us is in her best interest.”
“And allying with Becca’s not?”
“All the biometrics on Sunday reported she was telling the truth. She’s a victim too, of God only knows what emotional blackmail or worse that Becca’s put her through.”
The prosecutor’s voice and shoulders had risen as he’d gone on.
And it wasn’t the first time Cam had seen Nic go to bat for a victim witness.
There was more there, more Cam wanted to dig for, but now wasn’t the time, not when their witness was missing and Nic had already gone twelve rounds with Bowers.
“Look, I agree, all signs point to Abby telling the truth, and I do not want to blame the victim either. I hear and respect you there. All I’m saying is, Abby’s number one priority is her sister, and we can’t completely dismiss the possibility that Becca is still her best bet. Abby may not trust us either.”
Blue eyes stared back at him, icy and hard, until Nic blinked and the calm mask fell back into place.
“Okay, so how do we get Abby to trust us? Get her out of the current jam, right?” Cam nodded, and Nic went on.
“Perfect. This is your specialty. You’re one of the Bureau’s best kidnap and rescue agents.
So how do we get Abby back and get ourselves unfucked? ”
Crisis averted, Cam relaxed back in his chair, crossing a leg and angling toward Nic.
“The context of each kidnapping is different but they generally fall into one of a few categories. Assuming Becca arranged Abby’s, or that this person who took her is after the same thing—a way at the artifacts—relatively, this is one of the better sort. ”
“Yeah, Boston? How’s that?”
“Kidnappings for ransom or kidnappings where the victim is needed for something depend on the victim remaining alive. At least for a time.”
“And the other kind don’t,” Nic said quietly.
No, they didn’t, and Cam wouldn’t wish that sort of pain on anyone.
A search and rescue that turned up a dead body, or worse, no body at all.
A family left to always wonder what had happened to their missing partner, friend, son, or daughter.
That kind of loss tore families apart, was enough to send parents and siblings spiraling, especially when someone had broken the rules, had failed to be where he was supposed to be and lost someone dear to all of them as a result.
Those cases, Cam knew, personally and professionally, were the worst, and not something you ever got over.
Distractions cost lives.
Ignoring the sick bubbling in his gut, Cam closed his laptop and laid a forearm on the table.
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a ransom situation, so I don’t know what we can offer to persuade the kidnapper—short of the actual artifacts, assuming that’s what they’re after—to trade for Abby or to set a trap. ”
Nic shook his head. “Neither Kristi?, the museum, nor the Serbian embassy are going to let us risk the artifacts, so where does that leave us?”
“We have to find out where Abby is and go in after her.”
“A raid?”
Cam nodded. “Never my ideal rescue scenario—the chance of collateral damage is high, as we saw with the last one—but that’s all we’ve got here unless we find another in. The perps in custody still aren’t talking, and even if they were, they’re clearly not privy to Becca’s plans.”
“And probably not to her current location either.”
“I’m guessing not. I’ve got agents out checking their previous hideouts but ten to one she’s someplace new.”
“So, we’ve got nothing,” Nic said over the door opening and Lauren flying in.
“Maybe you’ve got nothing, but not me,” she said. “Wait, is that right, or did I fuck up the double negative thing?”
“Lauren,” Cam snapped, probably sounding as irritated as Nic looked. It was only noon, and it already felt like one of the longest days of Cam’s career. “What’ve you got?”