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  They weren’t doing her any good. They only made it harder to work. They had to keep trying. They would find Mackenzie. Parker had promised her. She had to believe that. She had to refuse to think about all the horrible things that might be happening to her daughter right now.

  “We need to get dressed and go check on the team. Who knows? They might have found something.”

  She yanked the covers back and hurried to the closet.

  She was just pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean sweater when Parker’s phone went off.

  “Is it Estavez?”

  “No. It’s Colby.” Parker answered the phone. “Good morning, Colby.” He paused a moment for her reply, then said, “Miranda is with me. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  The woman’s sophisticated voice spilled into the room. “Hello, Miranda. I’m so sorry to disturb you.”

  “It’s all right.” Miranda glanced at Parker.

  His look said he didn’t think they should tell the Chathams about last night. Miranda agreed.

  “We haven’t heard from you since yesterday. Are you still in Boston?”

  “Yes, we are,” Miranda said.

  “Have you and Wade made any progress so far?”

  Miranda winced. “Some. We’re still working on it. The team is with us.”

  “Oh.” Colby sounded surprised at that news. “That’s good. We have something to tell you. Oliver is here on speaker, as well.”

  “Hello, Oliver,” Miranda said.

  “Good morning, Miranda, Wade. Go ahead, dear,” the lawyer said to his wife.

  “Well, last night, as you can imagine, we couldn’t sleep. We tossed and turned, and then around four in the morning, we both got up and decided to go through Mackenzie’s room from top to bottom.”

  Tensing, Miranda sat down on the mattress. “And?”

  “We rummaged around in her closet and found some old things from her skating years. We ended up going through pictures and reminiscing.”

  That idea tore at Miranda’s heart, but she didn’t have time for sentimentality now. “Are you saying you didn’t find anything?”

  “No. We did find something.”

  “What was it?” Parker’s tone turned business-like.

  “We went through her nightstand, her desk, and finally her chest of drawers,” Oliver said.

  Colby picked it up. “And in the back of the bottom drawer under some old clothes guess what we found.”

  “Just tell us.”

  She could hear Colby inhale. “A plastic bag from a phone store.”

  Miranda sucked in her breath. “You have the name of the store where she bought the prepaid phone?”

  “More than that,” Oliver said. “We have the packaging and the receipt. It even has the clerk’s name on it.”

  Hallelujah. Finally a real break. Miranda closed her eyes hard, but she couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

  Parker took over the conversation. He moved to the nightstand and took a pad of hotel paper and a pen out of the drawer. “Give us all the information.”

  Oliver gave him the name and number of the store, the date of purchase, and best of all, the prepaid phone’s serial number.

  “Thank you, Oliver. This is very helpful. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  Before Miranda could stop the tears of relief, Parker was calling the store. Ten minutes later he hung up with the manager and held the pad up for Miranda to see.

  “Is that it?” Her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “It is. That’s the phone number of the prepaid.”

  “Oh, thank God. Let’s get over to Holloway and Becker’s room right away.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  When Miranda stepped into the guys’ suite, which they were now calling Search Party Central, she caught Becker in his pajamas at his desk and Holloway on the couch still in the clothes he’d worn yesterday.

  His cheeks glowing, Becker bolted straight up in his chair. “What is it, Steele?”

  He could tell by her expression something was up.

  “We got a call from Colby Chatham. She and Oliver found the packaging for the prepaid phone in Mackenzie’s drawer. Parker just got the prepaid’s number from the store.” She held out the paper.

  Holloway stepped to her side while Becker rushed over from the desk.

  “Let me see that.” Holloway looked down at the number. “Is this legit?”

  “I spoke to the manager of the store,” Parker told him. “He assured me this is the correct phone number in the database.”

  Becker snatched the paper out of Miranda’s hand and took it back to the computer. “Let’s plug it in.”

  The party moved to the laptop as he opened an application with a black background and a lot of fields and gobblygook.

  With Miranda peering over his shoulder, Becker carefully entered numbers into the boxes.

  “This phone should have a unique internal identifier. Its MAC address. This part of the program searches for that using the phone’s number, and this part,” he switched to another window, “uses geolocation and accesses the GPS. It can also use triangulation, but it’s less accurate.”

  What was he talking about? “So what does all this mean, Becker?”

  He pressed some more buttons. “It means now that I’ve entered the number, all we have to do is wait for the software to find the phone.”

  Simple enough. “And what happens when it does?”

  “It will beep and give us a signal showing us the location.”

  She tapped her fingers on the desk. “How long will that take?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Well—” Becker looked like he was trying to find words simple enough for her to understand.

  “Network traffic, distance, several other factors,” Parker answered for him. “But I’d estimate we should get something within a half an hour. Would you agree, Detective?”

  Becker nodded eagerly. “I think so, Mr. Parker.”

  Okay, good enough. She guessed she could hold on another half an hour. Not that there was any other option.

  She was just about to ask about the other feelers they had out when there was a knock on the door and Wesson stepped into the room.

  With her thick red hair pulled back into a bouncy ponytail, she was dressed in fashion jeans, black lambskin half-boots with gold studs, and a dark green turtleneck that made her eyes shimmer.

  “I just heard from Sloan,” she announced. “He finally answered the phone after I called him five times.”

  Miranda spun around to face her. Maybe things were starting to go their way. “Is he going to help us?”

  Looking disgusted, Wesson lifted her palms. “He has to ask his boss. He’ll let us know.”

  Well, it was something. Miranda pointed to the computer. “We got the number of the prepaid. Becker’s tracking it now.”

  Wesson’s expression turned to excitement. “How’d you do that?”

  “Colby called. They found the package the phone came in.” Miranda told her about the Chatham’s search of their daughter’s bedroom.

  “That’s great. This could work, Steele. We could find her soon.”

  Her and whoever she was with. Miranda wasn’t sure how they were going to handle that.

  “Nothing on the sex sting operation, so far.” Holloway reported from the kitchenette where he was starting a pot of coffee.

  “We should have some breakfast while we’re waiting for results,” Parker said, taking out his phone.

  He took orders, and after a few minutes the fare arrived, and everyone gathered around the coffee table for another communal feast.

  Holloway had ordered a smoked salmon bagel, while Wesson chose a granola parfait with Greek yogurt with mixed berries and a brioche on the side. Becker had a Belgian malted waffle with Vermont maple syrup, and Miranda forced down a couple of over easy eggs and some breakfast potatoes.

  For himself, Parker had s
elected an egg white frittata, making Miranda wonder once again about his change in diet.

  They finished up, went through two pots of coffee, and waited.

  Two hours later, there was no word from Sloan and still no results on the prepaid.

  Staring out the window at the city below, Miranda felt as if the world were spinning out of control.

  Becker sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen and tapping his fingers against the mouse. “I think—”

  Miranda turned to him. “Spit it out, Becker.”

  “I think it might be turned off.”

  “The prepaid?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The battery could be dead,” Holloway said.

  “I’d vote for turned off.” Despair making the bile rise in her throat, Miranda crossed to the sofa and sank down next to Wesson.

  “We don’t know that,” Wesson said.

  “Mackenzie’s kidnapper wouldn’t want to be tracked. He might have thrown the thing in the trash somewhere. Or tossed it in the Boston Harbor, for all we know.” Miranda held her head, which was starting to pound. There had to be something else they could do.

  She just couldn’t think of it.

  She glanced across the room and caught sight of Parker, who was staring at her intently and looking grim. She turned her head away.

  “Maybe we should go to the police,” Holloway suggested.

  The police would spook a kidnapper for sure. Miranda hadn’t wanted to risk that.

  No one said anything, and for a long moment there was nothing but silence in the room.

  Then suddenly a beep sounded.

  Becker jumped in his chair like a firecracker had gone off under his bottom.

  Miranda bolted off the sofa and half ran to the laptop. “Is that the prepaid?”

  “Yes, it is. It’s on. And it’s moving.”

  They all watched the flashing red dot on the screen together while Becker worked the keyboard until a map appeared under the image.

  Miranda peered at the lines. “Where is that?”

  “Near here,” Becker told her.

  Wesson pointed to the odd shape on the screen. “It’s Boston Common, isn’t it?”

  Parker nodded. “It is. Just down the street.”

  Miranda’s heart was pounding. “We’ve got to get over there. Now.”

  “I can transfer this tracker to my phone,” Becker said.

  “Do that,” she told him. “Let’s all get our coats and meet downstairs in five minutes.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Holloway agreed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Fifteen minutes later Miranda and her team were bundled into the Lexus LX while Parker circled the block surrounding Boston Common. From Park Street, he turned onto Tremont.

  Easing along the southeast side of the place, he spotted a car vacating a spot across the street and pulled into it.

  “We were lucky to get this close,” Holloway said from the backseat.

  They were, Miranda agreed. This part of the city was crowded with both people on foot and traffic. The buildings were both old and new, a colonial flair mixed with tall modern skyscrapers. The Common reflected the same flavor.

  “The oldest city park in the nation,” Parker murmured as he peered out the window. “In the early years it was primarily used for cows and hangings. Now it’s open to the public and has been used for everything from concerts to protests.”

  Miranda studied the spiky iron fence running the length of the park and the visitor center beyond. Near the barrier stood an oblong structure that led to the subway.

  She turned around. “Well, Becker?”

  His face stern, Becker kept his gaze on his phone. “She’s definitely in the park. Or her phone is.”

  Miranda looked at the gnarled branches of the trees. What was Mackenzie doing in there? Had she escaped from whoever picked her up at the airport yesterday? Why hadn’t she called someone?

  “The signal isn’t moving,” Becker said, worry in his tone.

  Miranda turned around. “What do you mean, not moving?”

  “In the hotel, it was moving this way. Now it’s just sitting. Right there. See?”

  He showed her the phone and pointed to the red flashing dot on the screen. It was about three-quarters of the way across the park, close to the northern side.

  “Where is that exactly?”

  Holloway pulled up a map of the place on his phone and zoomed in. “An attraction called the Frog Pond. According to this, it’s a wading pool in the summers. In winter, they use it as an ice skating rink.” He handed her the phone, indicating the blue patch in the stretch of green.

  Ice skating. Just the sort of place Mackenzie would go.

  Miranda’s hopes spiked again. So how should they handle this?

  Parker remained silent, waiting for her to decide the next move.

  Studying his screen, Holloway pursed his lips. “It could be a trap.”

  Wesson folded her arms. “I wish Sloan were here,” she muttered to herself.

  Miranda scowled at her. “We don’t need Sloan.”

  “We could do with some weapons.”

  That much was true. But they’d have to make do without them.

  As Miranda studied the map on Holloway’s screen, a plan formed in her mind. There were paths crisscrossing the entire park. Several led to the frog pond.

  She handed the phone back. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Becker, you stay in the car and monitor the tracking app while we go in and locate where that red dot is coming from.”

  “Or who it’s coming from,” Holloway said.

  “Right.”

  Wesson sat forward. “So the rest of us are going in together?”

  “Once we get inside the park, we’ll split up. Parker and I will go one way. You and Holloway will go another.

  Surprisingly Holloway gave a nod of approval. “A flanking maneuver.”

  “Exactly. If Mackenzie’s at that pond alone, we’ll surround her and bring her back to the SUV with us.”

  “And if she’s not alone?”

  “Then we’ll do whatever is necessary to get her away from that person.”

  “Or persons,” Parker said, a warning in his tone.

  She turned to him. “We’ll do whatever is necessary. No holds barred. Four strong people trained in martial arts has to count for something.”

  He nodded to acknowledge the fact, without reminding her again they had no weapons.

  “Becker, get ready to call in the cops if things really go south.”

  “Sure thing, Steele.”

  While Miranda had been talking, Wesson’s fingers had been flying, quickly twisting her long, flaming red hair into a thick braid. She took a band from her bag, and wrapped it around the end. “There. Now I look a little different.”

  Miranda had to grin. “A master of disguise, huh?”

  Wesson narrowed an eye at her. “At least it’s something. Didn’t Judd teach us even a subtle change in appearance can make a difference when you’re tailing a suspect?”

  Miranda ignored the comment. “Okay. Everybody ready?”

  “Wait,” Becker said. “We need a way to communicate.”

  Miranda raised a brow. “Cell phones?”

  He shook his head. “We need a communications channel. Something we can all listen to.”

  “Good thinking.” Parker pulled out his phone and began to swipe. “We can use the Agency’s walkie talkie app.”

  Miranda took out her phone and pulled it up. She didn’t even know it was there. “How do we use it?”

  Parker demonstrated the app on his phone. “Simply press the green Talk button and all of the rest of us will be able to hear you. It turns red when someone else is talking so you can listen.”

  Becker frowned. “Won’t four people with walkie talkie apps look a little conspicuous?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “What do you suggest?”

  “I have mini headsets,” Becker sa
id with glee. “Wireless. They’re over the ear, so they’re subtle. They’ve got noise and wind reduction, a voice menu, and a power-saving mode.”

  He pulled several boxes out of the laptop case he’d brought along and handed them around.

  “You must have been a boy scout, Becker.” Miranda opened her headset, tucked it over her ear, and synched it to her phone while everyone else did the same.

  With a frustrated scowl, Wesson pulled a knit cap over her braid to hide most of her earpiece.

  She must not have liked the look.

  Miranda glanced over her team. “Okay. Are we set?”

  Holloway replied with a salute. “Set.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Parker peered out the window and raised a brow. “One last thing.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a parking meter.”

  “Crap.” Of course there was. They didn’t let you park in a city for free.

  Closing her eyes, Miranda pressed her head against the seat. By the time they got into the park, that prepaid could be long gone.

  “The signal’s still flashing,” Becker said, guessing what she was thinking. “It hasn’t moved.”

  She shook off the frustration. “Okay, who’s got quarters?”

  Everyone started digging in their pockets. Wesson searched her bag.

  Parker pressed her arm. “I can use the Agency credit card.”

  “No.” Something told her that would expose them somehow.

  “Very well.”

  As Parker handed Becker the keys, Miranda pointed a finger at him. “Don’t leave the vehicle.”

  His eyes went wide. “Wouldn’t think of it, ma’am.”

  They climbed out of the car.

  Miranda took the two fistfuls of coins she’d collected from her colleagues and stuffed them into the machine. The thing was pricey and only gave them an hour and forty-five minutes, but they should be back long before then.

  She hoped.

  Pulling her coat around her at the chilly air, she decided the tint on the windows of the Lexus was enough to hide Becker from prying eyes.

  There was no more time to lose.

  She gave a nod to Parker, and with Holloway and Wesson bringing up the rear, she marched to the corner and led the way across the street.