photo come from?”
“The subject took it.”
Abbie had photographed her own father’s murder? The fast-food egg-bagel sandwich he’d wolfed down on his way here turned to brick. He hoped to heaven someone was there for her. She adored her father. Her whole world revolved around pleasing him. Losing him, witnessing his murder, would’ve torn her apart.
“Over the last month,” Falconer said, “information on her whereabouts was compromised three times. Three deputies are dead. After the last attack she disappeared and hasn’t been seen since. The Service is worried about her safety.”
Six slides clipped by, showing a photo of each of the three men as it appeared on their badges and a crime-scene photo of each of their corpses. Gray’s skin grew cold. His mind couldn’t wrap itself around Abbie having to witness such violence. That was his world, not hers. Hers was all softness and light. She could capture magic with her camera, render a child’s face into a work of art, a family portrait into an intimate revelation of cohesion. The photograph she’d taken of him and his sister at Brynna’s sixteenth birthday party was the only thing he’d taken with him when he’d left Echo Falls. Had she shut down as she had when her mother died? Without her tight-knit group of friends who would have shaken her out of her mental fog? Where had she run?
“Here’s our subject’s profile.” Dry statistics that couldn’t even begin to describe the life that buzzed around Abbie glared at him from the screen.
Skyralov sipped green tea. “What was her last location?”
Kingsley popped a suspender. “Ed Kushner was killed in Providence, Rhode Island. After that, Inspector Auclair took her to a small motel outside of Hartford, Connecticut. She escaped through a bathroom window.” Pictures of the motel, the window and the surroundings clicked across the screen. A lone imprint of a bare foot on the shoulder of a road. That more than anything made it real. Abbie’s foot in the sand. How often had he seen that image?
Gray shook his head. Don’t go there. “Where’s the trial?”
“Boston,” Falconer said. “Eight days from today. We have to find her. Without her, Vanderveer has no reason to reveal the extent of his treason. We have cause to believe he’s behind the attempted murder of Abrielle Holbrook.”
Falconer’s chair whispered as he turned to face Mercer. “Mercer, I want you to track the witness and bring her back. Reed, since you’ve worked WITSEC, you’ll go in posing as a deputy to find the inside—”
“I’ll track.” Gray sat as still as an art-class model. He could not let Falconer know how much he wanted to lead the retrieval team.
Falconer frowned at him. “This isn’t multiple choice.”
“I’ll track.” Be firm. Keep it cool. “I know how to find her.”
Falconer contemplated him with his hard eyes and sharp face. Without breaking eye contact, he said, “Harper, you’ll go undercover. Mercer, you’ll help Reed track.”
“I can track alone. No sweat.”
“That’s all, gentlemen,” Falconer announced. “Check your PDAs for updates. Reed, stay behind.”
Four sets of curious eyes appraised him as they filed out.
After Kingsley closed the door, Falconer sat on the corner of the conference table. “How much sleep have you had?”
Gray flashed him a smile. “You know me. I can sleep anywhere. I got some shut-eye on the plane.”
“It cuts close to home.”
“I know.”
“Can you handle going back?”
The strange thing about Falconer was that he asked for everything and somehow you felt compelled to give it to him. He knew the deep, dark secrets of each of his team’s men. But the courtesy didn’t extend both ways. He was still a mystery to them. But there was trust. And that said a lot. Falconer knew about Echo Falls, knew about the strained relationship between him and his sister, Brynna, knew the hard time he’d had surviving the unforgiving label of coward branded onto him by small-town narrow-mindedness.
But he didn’t know about Abbie. Gray had never told a soul about Abbie.
Gray leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, arms splayed wide—the image of relaxation. “Yeah, I can handle going back. That’s why I took your job offer in the first place.” Sort of.
Falconer turned the remote in his hand. “You’ve been here over a year and you haven’t set foot in Massachusetts.”
Gray popped a careless shrug. “Guess I just needed a push.” If he had, he’d have known about Abbie’s father and could have helped her.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
“I know her. I know Echo Falls. I can find her faster than anyone here.”
Someone within the program wanted to harm his golden girl. He might have had nothing to offer her thirteen years ago, but now he could keep her safe from the bullies who wanted to hurt her. “I understand her. I understand where she’s coming from. I understand the program that betrayed her.” He was her only chance.
“It’s not just Abrielle, Reed. There’s WITSEC’s reputation and the lives of soldiers at stake.”
“I get that.”
A long silence loaded the room with tension, high-strung and expectant. Never let them see you sweat.
Falconer reached forward and with a finger flicked Gray’s glasses so they rested on top of his head. “Tell me about Abrielle.”
Gray willed his naked gaze to meet Falconer’s straight on. Never let them see your pain. He grinned and made a joke out of the feelings that had nearly eaten him alive. “She was the princess in the mansion and I was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“I see.”
Gray feared maybe Falconer was seeing too much. “I never stood a chance.”
“A schoolboy’s first crush can make him blind to boundaries.”
“But he still understands their restrictions.” Especially when they were pounded into him.
“Make sure you do.” Falconer rose and gathered his files. “You find her and you bring her in. Is that understood?”
“Crystal clear.”
“Mercer’s my best tracker. He’s going with you. This is too important.”
Just what Gray needed—a shadow to witness his weakness.
ALL PRISON TELEPHONE conversations were taped, so Raphael Vanderveer had to learn to talk about what to the censors would sound like treason as if it were apple pie. But what did the little minds know about how the world really worked? They didn’t understand he was selling defective merchandise to the enemy while working on the real thing for the U.S. government. Why shouldn’t he profit from the enemy’s
