The Stolen Girl Page 11

  “Will do.”

  She hung up, her mind starting to focus. “Send Becker the information you got on that address as well. What was the owner’s name again?”

  Holloway was juggling both his and Olivia’s phones. “Marie Applegate. Already done.”

  “Good.” She turned to Olivia. “Pacific Bank on Washington. Is that where you usually go?”

  She blinked as if coming out of a daze. “Yes. That’s my bank, but I go to the one on Fairfax near the salon.”

  “Where’s the one on Washington? Downtown?”

  Parker was looking it up on his phone, his face turned grim. “It’s in Culver City.”

  The place where they’d just come from. The place where Olivia and Axel used to live. The place with the auto repair shop where Axel used to work.

  A chill went down Miranda’s spine. There was definitely a pattern forming here.

  But how did the kidnapper know where Olivia’s kept her money? “Do you bank online?”

  “Sometimes. Only from my laptop.”

  They might have a hacker on their hands. She wished she could clone Becker.

  “I’ll take a look at her computer,” Parker said. “If you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not. I’ll go get it.” As if in a fog, Olivia rose and made her way down the hall.

  “We need to go with her tomorrow,” Miranda said quietly to the team after Olivia had disappeared.

  Bank. She looked up and caught Holloway’s eye. The last time they were in a bank together it didn’t go well. She’d almost lost her teammate then. And they’d had half of the Atlanta PD coordinating things.

  Tomorrow, they wouldn’t even have a weapon among them.

  “Here it is.” Olivia reappeared, carrying her open laptop.

  She set it down on the small kitchen table, and Parker got to work.

  Miranda sat on the couch massaging her temples and staring off into space. They had to get a plan together. They needed manpower, weapons. If only they could call the cops.

  She had to laugh at herself. If someone had told her five years ago she’d be wishing for cops, she would have called them crazy.

  Wesson scooted close to her. “What are we going to do, Steele?”

  The never-ending question. “We need to go with Olivia tomorrow, but it can’t look like we’re together.”

  “Right.”

  “And we really need to stake out that house we were at tonight.”

  “The one Dragon-Boy led us to?”

  Miranda smirked. “That’s what you’re calling him?”

  “What else?”

  It fit. “We need another car.”

  “I can rent one and sit outside that location,” Holloway volunteered.

  “Are you sure?”

  He scowled at her. “Of course, I am.”

  It was late and he was getting touchy again.

  But she didn’t want to leave a team member alone at a possible kidnapper’s house. She didn’t want to split up the team.

  “I’m a big boy, Steele. I can take care of myself.” As he spoke the terse words, Holloway turned to Parker.

  Ignoring his comment, Parker shook his head. “I’m not finding any unusual activity. I’m running a special virus scan. It will take an hour or so.”

  Miranda shot him a “Help me” look.

  Holloway cleared his throat.

  Calmly Parker turned to Holloway. “It’s up to Miranda, Curt.”

  Thanks a lot.

  She looked up at the clock again. It was almost one-thirty here. “Rental places will be closed now.”

  “We can get a vehicle at the airport.” Parker rose and showed Olivia what to look for when the scan finished.

  “Okay,” Miranda sputtered, at her wits end. “We’ll get Holloway another car. But text me every hour.”

  Holloway gave her a self-satisfied expression. “Won’t you be sleeping?”

  She got to her feet. “Probably. I’ll read them in the morning. Meanwhile, you keep an eye on Dragon-Boy and see if he leaves the house. The rest of us will go with Olivia to the bank at ten.”

  From the kitchen table, Olivia turned to her looking horrified. “All of you? What if the kidnapper is watching me?”

  “We’ll be discreet. He won’t see us.” And if Dragon-Boy showed up at the bank, they’d know he was coming because of Holloway’s tail.

  Okay, Holloway’s idea about renting an extra car was a good one.

  Olivia pushed back her bangs. “It will take at least an hour to get to Culver City in the morning rush hour.”

  “We’ll be here by eight-thirty,” Miranda said.

  Olivia came over to her. “Make it eight. I’ll make breakfast for everyone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Olivia nodded. “I have food that will spoil if I don’t use it.”

  Because Imogen wasn’t here to eat it.

  “Okay.” Miranda turned to Wesson. “Are you staying here again?”

  She nodded. “I’m not leaving her.”

  Olivia didn’t respond to that, but deep down she had to be grateful. At least, Miranda hoped so.

  “Let’s get going then.”

  Olivia took Miranda’s hand and gave it a heartfelt squeeze. “Thank you, again. For everything.”

  Miranda squeezed her back. “This will all be over soon.”

  But as she headed out the door with Parker and Holloway, she realized this case could be far from over.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Axel finished up the dishes and wiped the sink and the counter. He dried his hands and draped the towel over the cabinet door.

  He got himself a beer from the fridge, took it into the living room, and eased himself into an armchair. As he sipped, he watched his sleeping daughter on the couch. She was pretty, like her mother. And way too curious.

  She kept asking about Draco. Who was he? Why were they staying at his house? She asked about her mother, too, and when she would see her again. Axel wondered if she wanted them to get back together.

  After Draco had left that morning for work, Axel had called in sick at his job and taken Imogen to the grocery store. She’d given him directions on every aisle, picking an assortment of healthy foods, including grass fed milk and a loaf of whole grain bread.

  When they got home, she’d done her homework while he’d done a load of laundry. Proudly she showed him her paper. She’d written about becoming a veterinarian when she grew up because she loved animals. She wrote she wanted a puppy, but her mother had said no.

  Why didn’t Livvy get her a puppy? he thought as he’d swept and mopped the kitchen floor. That was the trouble with women like Livvy. They thought they knew everything. Feeling miserable, he’d cleaned the bathroom, taken out the trash, and cooked a decent meal for supper.

  He’d been a regular Suzie Homemaker.

  After dinner, he and Imogen had watched some TV together while they waited for Draco to return. It was two in the morning now. Imogen had fallen asleep hours ago.

  Where the hell was he?

  And why was Axel feeling like some PMSing broad waiting for her man to come home?

  Axel was just about to settle down on the floor with the new air mattress he’d bought today when his cell rang.

  Draco.

  He went back into the kitchen to talk. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Busy.”

  “You left me here all day to take care of the kid.”

  “Wouldn’t have to do that if you kept her in the closet.”

  Axel ground his teeth. If Draco were here, he’d punch him in the face.

  “You didn’t do anything stupid, did you, Axel?”

  Now he was calling him stupid? “Like what?”

  “Like call your ex.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Those detectives found me at the Guillotine tonight.”

  “At the Guillotine?”

  “You heard me.”

  Somehow they’d fou
nd their habitual watering hole. “I told you they were good.”

  “They tailed me from the bar. I had to go to Marie’s to throw them off the trail.”

  So that was where he’d been. “They followed you to Marie’s?”

  “Yeah, but I think they gave up and left. I’m staying here for the night to be sure. And to get a little tail.”

  Ha. Bet she made him sleep on the floor. See how he liked it. “So how’d it go tonight?”

  “I talked to Crow. It’s all set for tomorrow.”

  “What about the police?”

  “We’ve got our guy inside. They won’t mess things up.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “You questioning my judgment, Axel?”

  For the hundredth time, Axel wished he’d said no when Draco had come to him with this scheme. Not that he’d really had that option.

  “Let’s just hope it works,” he said.

  “It’ll work.”

  “It had better.”

  He hung up, tossed his empty beer into the trash, plodded into the living room, and settled in on the air mattress. Before he turned off the light, once more he studied his daughter’s peaceful face.

  After this was over, maybe he’d talk to Olivia about seeing his daughter from time to time. The idea surprised him, but he meant it. Something about the little girl hit a soft spot he’d never known he’d had. After this was over, things would change.

  Maybe then he could start being a real father.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next morning, Miranda awoke to a loud alarm and a headache.

  She sat up and stared blankly at her phone. Less than four hours sleep and way too much stress. After picking up a car at the airport, they’d arrived back at the hotel around three a.m.

  At that hour there hadn’t been much in the way of vehicle selection. The best they could do was a hunter green Corolla Miranda hoped was dark enough to hide in the shadows.

  At least it had GPS.

  She scrolled through her text conversation with Holloway from last night.

  I’m here. Harley’s still chained outside.

  Make sure he doesn’t see you.

  I know how to do my job.

  Let us know when he moves again.

  Roger that.

  Nothing more had come in.

  “He’ll text you again when he has something to tell us.” Parker strolled over and touched her hair.

  She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek for comfort. “I know. I’m just on edge.”

  “We’re doing all we can.”

  “Yeah.” But was it enough?

  She got to her feet and felt a sudden surge of relief when his arms slid around her and he pulled her to his strong chest. Once she’d resented his strength, his power over her. Now she drew from it, drank it in like a healing tonic.

  He kissed her face, then found her lips, lingered there for a moment.

  Then she broke away. “I’d better get ready or we’ll be late.” Though she wished she could crawl back in the sack with him.

  “This will all be over soon,” he told her.

  The same words she’d said to Olivia last night. They didn’t sound so hollow coming from him.

  “At least we’re at step one.”

  “One step at a time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As promised, Olivia had a large skillet of cage free eggs, organic hash browns, and cheese dotted with avocado slices waiting for them when they arrived at her apartment.

  They gathered around the kitchen table, and everyone dug in. Miranda wolfed down a big plateful of the scrumptious fare, as well as three cups of black freshly-ground coffee. She ate almost as much as Wesson.

  When she finished, she wiped her mouth. “Are we all set for today? Everyone know what to do?”

  Olivia picked up her plate and took it to the sink. “Just what I would normally do. Go in and make a withdrawal. I called Tennille and asked her to open the shop for me. I said I’d be in around noon.”

  Their client had on a nice pair of salmon colored slacks and a lacy pale gray top. Her thick blond hair was down and flowing to her shoulders. She looked professional.

  “Right,” Miranda said, handing her plate to her. “Parker and I will go in right behind you and pretend to be shopping for a car loan.”

  Wesson got to her feet and cleared some more dishes from the table. “And I’ll enter the bank two minutes after you do and go to another teller. I’ll ask for two rolls of quarters to do laundry.”

  Miranda nodded. “Assuming everything goes well, when Olivia gets the money, Parker and I will finish up and leave right behind her.”

  Wesson helped Olivia load plates into the dishwasher. “And I’ll leave as soon as I get my quarters. Should be a snap.” But she didn’t sound so confident.

  Miranda could tell she was worried, even though she looked the part in her fashion jeans and a nice T-shirt, with her flaming red hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  Parker, who’d worn one of his suits for this ruse, drank the last of his coffee and took his dish to the sink. “The bank will have you fill out a form to report the withdrawal to the IRS,” he said to Olivia. “It may take some time. And as soon as the bank opens, you should call ahead to make sure they have the funds on hand.”

  Olivia turned to him, eyes wide. “What if they don’t?”

  “We may have to use an alternate institution.”

  “I don’t know what that man on the phone will think of that.”

  “Let’s just see how it goes before we worry about that problem.”

  Olivia nodded.

  Wesson wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ve been thinking. Why that amount?”

  “What do you mean?” Miranda asked.

  “Fifteen thousand. Seems low for a ransom.”

  Miranda had wondered about that, too. She’d come up with her own explanation. “He has to know Olivia owns a beauty salon. Maybe he thinks that’s all he can get out of her.”

  “I guess so. It’s not like she’s a rich tycoon.”

  And why did the kidnapper pick Olivia when there were so many other rich people around he could get more from? Which made it more likely Axel was behind all this. Miranda wondered if Wesson still thought Olivia’s ex was involved after last night. It seemed like Dragon-Boy lived in the same area Axel used to live and work. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think they were in the same gang.

  They finished cleaning up and headed for the bank.

  Outside the weather was breezy and dry and felt like a spring day. If only she could feel as cheery.

  Maybe it would all work out. The kidnapper would give them a drop point, he’d tell Olivia where Imogen was, and they’d all go get her. This ordeal could all be over by tonight.

  With Wesson behind her in the backseat of the Navigator, Miranda kept an eye on Olivia’s white Honda Accord while Parker followed it, driving well behind the car so as not to look suspicious.

  Well, they’d had enough practice doing that last night, hadn’t they?

  They headed down Crescent to La Cienega Blvd and Culver City, then took Venice all the way to the bank. Their destination turned out to be only about a mile away from Marie Applegate’s house. Traffic was heavy, and as predicted, it took about an hour to reach the place.

  Parker pulled into the lot and backed into a spot well away from the door.

  It was a smallish single-story brick building on the corner with friendly signs inviting customers inside. Pretty ordinary-looking.

  Miranda peered out the window at a woman exiting the place with a small child. A middle-aged man got out of a gray Volvo and headed for the ATM.

  Olivia’s white Accord sat near the front door.

  Miranda checked the time. Nine fifty-seven.

  “What’s she waiting for?” Wesson hissed from the backseat.

  As soon as the words were out of Wesson’s mouth, Miranda’s cell buzzed. Olivia had sent a text.

  I
called ahead. They have the funds.

  Miranda gritted her teeth. It couldn’t feel great to have to withdraw your life savings to give to some crook.

  She texted back. Good. Are you ready?

  Yes.

  Go ahead, then. We’ll be right behind you.

  All right.

  A few seconds later, the door of the Accord opened, and Olivia emerged. Without looking toward the Navigator she headed for the entrance. So far, she seemed to be keeping her head.

  “Let’s go.” Parker handed the keys to Wesson.

  Miranda got out of the car with him and headed to the bank’s front door just as Olivia disappeared through it.

  Thirty seconds later, they stepped through it as well.

  Inside the air was cool and the style was modern and utilitarian, with a white-and-royal blue carpet covering the floor, its pattern curving around kiosks and countertops. The bank logo hung on a wall behind the teller area. Across the room, Olivia was waiting in line.

  On an adjacent wall near the end of the teller counter, an animated sign featured dancing money explaining the life of a dollar bill. Cute.

  Miranda took a brochure from a nearby holder and took a seat on a padded bench with her back to the tellers.

  At that moment, Wesson entered and headed for one of the areas for customers to fill out deposit and withdrawal slips. There she pretended to hunt for cash in her large purse.

  For a long moment, Miranda pretended to gaze up at the illuminated signs near the side offices. They boasted about loans and interest rates on checking accounts. Casually she turned her head and took in the customers in line.

  There were about a dozen of them.

  A hefty man in a gray pinstripe suit on a cell phone. Two middle-aged women who looked like they were going on a shopping spree. A young guy in baggy jeans and T-shirt who looked bored.

  Miranda kept an eye on him.

  She didn’t see anyone with a dragon tattoo. But as the far teller booth emptied and Olivia stepped toward it, a familiar tingle went down the back of her neck.

  She leaned close to Parker and whispered. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.” Not that kidnapping someone’s daughter could ever feel right.

  “It hasn’t felt right since we got here,” Parker agreed.