The Stolen Girl Read online

  It was for her. For them.

  She sat up straight and took out her cell phone. Call the school. The bus driver made some kind of mistake. She’d straighten it out and everything would be fine.

  She was just about to make the call when her phone went off. She stared down at the screen.

  Unknown number.

  Her fingers trembled as she answered it.

  When she heard the voice, her whole body trembled.

  It was a harsh distorted sound like something in a horror movie.

  “We have your daughter,” it said.

  Olivia breathed in a ragged breath of terror. “What do you want?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

  “It’s what we don’t want. Don’t call the police. Don’t call the authorities. If you do, you’ll never see her again.”

  They hung up.

  Olivia tossed the phone onto the table as if it were a snake. She pressed her hands to her face, her heart pounding.

  Who was that? She had no idea. No, she had a vague idea, though it didn’t make much sense.

  What was she going to do? Should she call the police anyway? No, that was too risky.

  She stared down at the phone. Who could she turn to?

  She might have gone crawling back to her parents years ago, but there was one person who up to now, she’d refused to grovel before. Her sister, Janelle.

  They’d had such a big fight the last time she’d seen her. Janey had said some awful things to her. Among other things, she’d told her she was stupid and would never amount to anything. Well, she was proving her wrong, wasn’t she? Still, they hadn’t spoken in years.

  But Janey worked for a big time investigation firm in Atlanta. Her parents had said she was an investigator herself. She would know what to do. Olivia felt a pull in her stomach.

  She didn’t want to call her, but what choice did she have? She’d do anything for Imogen. Even swallow her pride. Even if she had to listen to Janey telling her what a bad mother she was.

  She was the only one who could help.

  Hoping she didn’t end up regretting the decision, Olivia picked up her phone and dialed.

  Chapter Three

  Miranda Steele swung her foot through the air and smacked Parker square in his gorgeous chest.

  He made an “ugh” sound and took a step back, but she suspected that was fake.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to call it a night?” he said in his seductive Southern voice.

  She scowled, eyeing the sweat beading on his brow and the dark hair with its sexy touches of gray that had fallen over his irresistible face.

  She took a moment to admire his tall muscular frame, then gave him a smirk. “You wussing out on me, Parker?”

  She turned the other way, raised her other foot, and was about to get him in the side when he caught her calf in his bare hands.

  “Not at all. I was thinking about our dinner date at Parker Towers.”

  She bounced on her free foot to keep her balance. He’d made reservations for eight o’clock. “I see. You were holding out on me. I’ll get you for that.”

  “Oh, will you?” He pulled her leg up and down she went onto the mat.

  He followed her fall, pinned her hands over her head as he drank her in with his toe-curling gaze.

  It was after hours, and they were on the fourteenth floor of the Imperial Building in the ring in the Parker Agency gym. The same place where they’d had their very first kiss.

  In about the same position.

  But Miranda wasn’t in the mood for kisses now. Not even with Parker’s muscled chest expanding and contracting over her, his warm sexy breath fluttering over her face, and desire glowing beneath her waist.

  Well, maybe a little. But she couldn’t afford to lose focus.

  He bent his head and her stomach fluttered. She took in the raw virile scent of him, nearly succumbing to his charms. But as soon as his lips brushed hers, she got her knee under him and gave it a shove.

  “No fair,” he growled as he pivoted away and she got to her feet.

  She danced to the end of the ring, batting the air with her fists.

  Parker went to the opposite corner and reached for a towel. “We’ve been at this for an hour, Miranda. It’s time for a break.”

  She stopped prancing and let her fists fall to her sides, the relentless anxiety eating away at her. “I’ve let two desperate creeps get the best of me on our last two cases. I can’t let that happen again.”

  Worry peppered his face as he wiped his brow. “You’re fighting skills are better than they ever were.”

  Were they? And would they ever be good enough?

  Parker studied the determined angles in his wife’s lovely face.

  Their last case had been a month and a half ago. But the image of her swimming for her life in the cold Atlantic Ocean would not leave him. Courageous as always, she had done her job. The job she considered her destiny. And yet he wondered if it had been his fault she’d ended up in the ocean. Had putting her in charge of the team been too much for her?

  He crossed the ring to her and put his hands on her waist. “You did see Dr. Wingate this morning, didn’t you?”

  She turned her head away.

  He took her chin in his hand. “Miranda?”

  “I did, yeah. Of course.” But she’d ended up mostly talking about Mackenzie.

  She’d seen her daughter a few times over the holidays, but it had been a lot like her birthday. A little talk, a little food, a little unwrapping of presents, and then the girl would go upstairs with her friends. Miranda had noticed she was wearing the silver heart-pendant she’d given her. Then she’d wondered if Mackenzie had done that only because she knew Miranda was coming over.

  She obsessed over her too much.

  “Did you ask Dr. Wingate about the mind control drugs?”

  “What? Oh. Yes, I did.”

  “What did she say?” Parker’s deep gray eyes bore into her, demanding information. He was worried about her.

  “She didn’t have an answer, except her usual therapy. She knows a specialist who might have an opinion.”

  “Who is it? Is she going to contact him?”

  “I told her not to bother.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be somebody’s guinea pig, Parker.”

  “Oh, my darling.” He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

  This time she couldn’t resist.

  She was thinking about sliding to the mat and finishing what they’d begun here so long ago when she heard the iron doors clang and the sound of heels tapping across the gym floor.

  Talk about déjà vu. Was that Gen?

  She broke Parker’s kiss and peered over his shoulder to see red-flaming hair, lots of gold around the neck, and a deep green dress that made her eyes shine like emeralds.

  It wasn’t Gen. It was Wesson.

  Her matching green heels stopped short about five feet from the ring, and her expression turned to shock as she took in the sight of her two bosses making out.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt—uh—anything.”

  “It’s all right, Janelle,” Parker said in his most understanding boss voice.

  Miranda eyed the dress. “You’re here late.”

  “Oh. I was going to meet someone nearby for a date and was waiting around. I guess I’ll have to cancel.”

  It wasn’t until then that Miranda noticed Wesson was staring at her phone, and seemed really out of it.

  “What’s wrong?” she and Parker said at the same time.

  “It’s—my sister.”

  “Sister?” Miranda remembered Wesson telling her about a sister when they were on the Boudreaux case. She and Wesson hadn’t spoken in a long time, as she recalled. “The one in California?”

  Wesson nodded. “She’s in LA now. West Hollywood.” She put a hand to her face. “I just can’t believe it.”

  “Believe what?” Miranda s
tarted to climb out of the ring.

  Parker followed her.

  “Olivia was pregnant when I last saw her. And she was still with that guy.”

  “The biker dude?” Miranda remembered Wesson saying that guy had beat her sister up.

  Wesson nodded. “But I guess she broke up with him. And now—” Her eyes teared up.

  “What, Janelle?” Parker touched her arm gently.

  “She’s been kidnapped. Olivia’s little girl, Imogen, has been kidnapped. She needs our help.”

  Miranda felt as if Wesson had slapped her across the face. “Kidnapped? How old is she?”

  “Seven. She’s in first grade. Olivia said she went to school this morning and didn’t come home on the bus.”

  The bottom dropped out of Miranda’s stomach. She knew only too well what it felt like to have your daughter snatched away from you. She could imagine what Olivia must be going through.

  “Is she sure someone took the girl?” Parker asked.

  Wesson nodded. “She was about to call the school when someone called her cell. It was a distorted voice from what I could tell.”

  “The caller used a voice changer,” Parker said.

  “Yes. They told her not to call the police.”

  Miranda put her hands on her hips. “Did they ask for money?”

  “No. They didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t say if they would call again. Just said ‘don’t call the police or you’ll never see your daughter again’.”

  Miranda pressed a hand to her forehead, her stomach aching for the poor mother. “We’ve got to do something, Parker.”

  “Has she asked for help?” he said.

  Wesson glanced around the gym looking lost. “She wants me to come out there, but I don’t think I can find Imogen by myself.”

  Miranda didn’t know if any of them could find the girl. But she was determined to try. She turned to Parker. “We can go, can’t we?”

  “Olivia said she’d be willing to pay your fee. She’s got her own beauty salon now and has some high end patrons. Apparently she’s done really well for herself. I had no idea.” Wesson looked totally bewildered.

  “Okay, then. It’s settled.”

  Parker nodded to her. “Do you want to bring anyone else from the team along?”

  Oh, right. She was still in charge of the team.

  She thought a moment. Becker couldn’t go. Fanuzzi was into her second trimester, and the doctor said she needed more rest. Becker had been helping his pregnant wife with her catering business.

  Holloway had been mad when he’d learned he’d been left out of the last case. He’d bite her head off if she didn’t take him along on this one.

  “We can use Holloway,” she said. “Is that okay?” She didn’t want to rack up expenses.

  Parker nodded. “The Agency can cover anything your sister can’t afford.”

  “Sounds good.” She turned to Wesson. “You want us to take you home so you can pack?”

  “No, I’m all right.” She seemed calmer and more focused now that they had a plan.

  “Let’s meet at the airport, then,” Parker said. “I’ll text you the information as soon as I have it.”

  “Yes. All right. Thank you, sir. Thank you, Steele.”

  “It’s what we do.” Miranda headed for the door with Wesson and Parker beside her. “Who knows?” she said trying to give her some hope. “With any luck, maybe we’ll learn this is just some sick joke someone’s playing on her.”

  Wesson gave her a half smile. “Yeah. Let’s hope this is a wasted trip.”

  But as the three of them hurried through the doors and out the rear entrance of the building, Miranda didn’t think that was likely.

  Chapter Four

  Parker reached the penthouse in record time, given the rush hour traffic. They showered, Miranda finished packing quickly, and went downstairs. She found Parker in the kitchen.

  She hurried over in time to see him assembling gourmet meats and cheeses onto sourdough Kaiser rolls.

  He swiped mayonnaise over the bread. “In lieu of our dinner at Parker Towers.”

  “Sandwiches?”

  “I detest airline food.” He reached into a bag for some chips to go with his creation.

  “If they even offer it.” The airlines were getting chintzy these days, and she didn’t think they should splurge on first-class for this trip.

  She slid onto a stool at the granite counter. “I got hold of Holloway. He sounded glad to be included in this case. Wesson had told him about her sister, so he knew part of the story already.” She held up a hand. “And before you ask, he was just finishing a frozen pizza.”

  Parker smiled and set the plate in front of her.

  She took a bite. Parker could make a sandwich taste as good as a five-star restaurant meal. “How are we going to find a kidnapped girl without the aid of the police?” she asked when she had swallowed.

  “We’ll have to see what we can learn once we’re there.” He didn’t sound hopeful.

  “I just hope we can help.”

  “We will.”

  He was right. They had to think positively. It was too soon to draw conclusions. But already this case was bringing back memories of the morning she’d woken up to find her baby’s crib empty.

  They finished the sandwich, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and headed out the door.

  ###

  Parker had booked four first class tickets on the last flight from Hartsfield Jackson to LAX. After meeting Holloway and Wesson at the gate, they got onboard.

  Miranda’s team mates were both dressed in jeans and loose fitting tops. Holloway wore one of his corduroy jackets over a blue T-shirt—the most casual Miranda had ever seen him. And Wesson was looking her classy self in a fine knit light gray sweater. The gorgeous redhead would fit right in in a town full of movie stars.

  They boarded their plane, and before takeoff, Miranda managed to squeeze in a call to Becker. Even though he wasn’t heading to LA with the rest of the team, his services might come in handy.

  He had just finished putting the kids to bed, and when she explained where they were going and why, Becker promised to help all he could.

  “Call me for anything, whatever the hour,” he told her.

  “Thanks, Becker. Gotta run. We’re taking off now.” She hung up, feeling like she had the support she needed.

  Becker loved kids and a kidnapped little girl disturbed him greatly.

  Since they had so little information about the case, there wasn’t much to talk about. They used the flight time to try to get some shuteye so they could hit the ground running when they arrived at their destination. But it was hard to relax when a child was missing. Holloway spent most of the flight playing games on the tablet he’d brought along, while Wesson stared blankly out the window.

  Miranda’s thoughts kept going back to Mackenzie.

  Five hours later they landed in Los Angeles, jetlagged and stressed before they even got started.

  “Olivia said to meet her at her apartment,” Wesson told them after they’d finished at the car rental booth.

  “Then that’s where we’ll go first.”

  Parker led the way outside and across a parking lot to the shiny black Lincoln Navigator he’d rented.

  They filled the back with their luggage and took off.

  Parker headed north up the 405, then east on 10 toward downtown. But their route wouldn’t take them into the city, Miranda noted following the GPS map on the dash. West Hollywood was eight or so miles northwest of LA proper. More than a suburb of LA, Wesson had explained on the flight, the community was its own city. Nestled between Beverly Hills and Hollywood, it was home to, among other things, the famous Sunset Strip. A place full of glitz and glamour.

  Not exactly what they’d come for.

  After about another half an hour they pulled up to Olivia’s West Hollywood residence. It was a well-lit, white stucco apartment complex with arched windows and an elegant stone staircase at the ent
rance. Nice place to live.

  The street was lined with cars, so they had to park a block down and walk.

  At the door, Wesson called her sister and she buzzed them in. They stepped into a vaulted lobby with more arches, and found an elevator.

  They took it to the fourth floor.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as she stepped into the hall, Miranda spotted their new client waiting for them at her apartment door.

  Wow, she thought. Olivia was just as gorgeous as her sister, though she was a blonder, shorter, and slightly heavier version of her.

  With her long thick hair pulled back in a ponytail, she had on a colorful pair of leggings and a baggy gray T-shirt. She wore flip-flops and her toes were painted a metallic blue. A tissue was crumpled in one hand, fingernails that matched her toes digging into it.

  As she neared, Miranda saw the young woman’s large blue eyes were red-rimmed.

  Instantly her heart went out to her.

  “Livvy,” Wesson said, giving her sister a hug.

  She hugged her back, but there seemed to be a bit of tension in it.

  “Janey,” Olivia said softly. “Thanks so much for coming.”

  “Of course, I was coming. This is Wade Parker and Miranda Steele of the Parker Agency.”

  “Good to meet you.” They shook hands.

  “I wish it could have been under better circumstances,” Parker said sincerely.

  “And this is my coworker, Curt Holloway.”

  Holloway extended a hand as well. “Glad to know you.”

  Olivia stared at them for a long moment. Then, as if at a loss of anything to say, she reached for her door. “Why don’t you all come inside.”

  They stepped into a tiny living room-dining room combination with dark hardwood floors, light walls, and a high ceiling. A leafy artificial palm tree stood in the far corner, giving the place its only greenery. Nondescript art pieces hung on the walls. A pale blue sectional couch took up most of the space. Miranda noted a teddy bear on the coffee table.