but she’d seen the love Rachel had for Chad and prayed that they’d find a way to make it work. They’d all hoped for happily-ever-after. But sometimes life didn’t turn out that way.
“When I went to see him...in Paris...he told me he was scared.” Rachel choked out the words. “He told me they would do anything to...to get what they wanted.”
Kate tried to put together the pieces. Rachel had left for Paris three months ago to try to patch up her relationship with her husband, Chad. When she returned, Rachel had distanced herself, never opening up about the trip. Kate had assumed her silence was her way to deal with her failing marriage. Now she realized it had to be much more than that. She’d always feared Chad and Rachel’s relationship might one day end in divorce. She’d worried about how Sophie would handle the loss of a father, and how Rachel would cope as a single mom, but she’d never considered the scenario they were facing now. Not the reality of her sister fighting for her life.
“Who are they?” Kate asked. “What do they want?”
Sirens screamed in the distance.
“I think he’s involved in something illegal,” Rachel said.
“What?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Did Chad take Sophie?”
“No, but it could be...someone he’s involved with.”
Flashing lights from the ambulance reflected against the beige walls of the bedroom. Kate heard the front door slam against the foyer wall and shouted to the paramedics to come upstairs.
Rachel gripped Kate’s forearm. “Promise...promise me you’ll find her, Kate. Don’t let anything happen to her. Please...please, Kate...she’s all I have.”
Kate nodded at her sister. “You know I’ll do everything I can. I promise.”
The following minutes clicked by like a hazy fog. Kate stood at the edges of the room, watching the paramedics try to stabilize Rachel. She’d already explained to one of the officers that not only had her sister been shot, but her niece was missing. The room tilted as they searched the house for Sophie. Nausea spread through her. Nothing made sense. Rachel was a mom who worked part-time as a hairdresser at a local beauty shop. Someone clearly wanted something that was worth killing for, but what? And why would they take Sophie?
Thirty minutes later, Kate stood in the waiting room while doctors rushed to save Rachel’s life.
As she leaned against one of the walls, an officer approached her and began peppering her with questions. Though sympathetic, he wanted answers—fast. Did she know who had shot her sister? Did she know where her niece was?
Kate caught the young officer’s gaze, fighting the urge to scream. No. She didn’t have any answers. Didn’t know who had shot Rachel. Didn’t know where Sophie was.
As he continued to ask her questions she had no clue how to answer, she thought about calling her mother and the pastor from their church, but had no idea what to say. How was she supposed to break the news to her mother that Rachel might be dying and Sophie was missing?
She wondered if they should expect a ransom note. That was how they did it on television. Cops or FBI agents waited with the grieving family until the kidnappers called to make their demands. They needed to find out what they were after, and if this were somehow connected to Chad, because Rachel didn’t have the kind of money kidnappers would demand.
Which meant she needed to talk with Chad. She tried his preprogrammed number she’d kept on her phone. No answer. Despite their failing marriage, Kate couldn’t imagine the man shooting Rachel and leaving her for dead. The two might have had their issues, but she didn’t think Chad was capable of murder—or even kidnapping, for that matter.
Except all the signs were there. Possible divorce, a string of heated arguments, and if he was involved in something illegal... Even if he hadn’t been here, Chad had to know something.
She punched in his number again, wondering what time it was in Paris right now. Wondering why he wasn’t answering.
Only one thing was clear at the moment. She was going to keep her promise to her sister and find Sophie.
* * *
Monday afternoon, Marcus O’Brian slid the key into the front door of the upscale house and slipped past the yellow tape. Operation Solitaire had turned into a yearlong investigation with diamonds being smuggled into the United States in exchange for military-grade weapons for a number of third-world African countries. And his search had led him here.
After weeks of dead ends, he still had more questions than answers. Which was why coming here was a long shot, but it wasn’t one he was willing to dismiss. Chad Laurent, half French, half American, might be working as a legitimate buyer for an international jewelry company, but now Marcus had compelling evidence Chad was buying and selling diamonds sourced from illegitimate channels; uncertified diamonds that had been smuggled into the international market and in turn sold as legitimate gems. And now on top of that, the man was a prime suspect in an attempted murder case and kidnapping charges of his wife and daughter.
He stepped through the front door and studied the layout of the three-bedroom, two-story house that had been ransacked—open-concept living room, dining room and kitchen, with a wide staircase to the second floor. Among the chaos were picture books, puzzles, stacks of children’s DVDs and colorful drawings hanging on the fridge. He went over in his mind everything he knew about Rachel Elliot Laurent. Married for five years, but currently separated from her husband. There was no evidence of abuse, which was why the shooting seemed out of character if Chad was behind it. Or at least unexpected. But the rules of the game had changed, and he had a feeling that Rachel wasn’t as innocent as she’d portrayed herself to be in their interview three days before the shooting.
Something about her demeanor had rubbed him the wrong way. She’d insisted she knew nothing about Chad’s possible illegal activities, especially now that her husband had relocated to Paris six months ago, but she’d been hiding something. He was certain of it.
He heard a noise upstairs. Marcus’s pulse shot up a notch. Someone else was in the house. He took the stairs to the second floor slowly, gun drawn, senses alert to the unfamiliar sounds of the house. According to his contact within the local PD, no one should be here. More than likely it was someone who’d decided to take advantage of the empty house, or a family member who didn’t care that this was a crime scene. If he were lucky, the perpetrator had returned to the scene of the crime.
He stepped through the doorway of the master bedroom and stopped. A woman knelt beside an open wooden chest facing away from him, going through the contents. Like the rest of the house, the room had been trashed, but here, blood stained the light-colored carpet. The crime scene unit had already swept the house for evidence, but whoever she was, she clearly wasn’t supposed to be here.
“I want you to put your hands in the air and stand up slowly.” He held his weapon level and aimed it at her as she stood and turned toward him, clearly alarmed by his presence.
“Who are you?” she asked as she followed his instructions.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He took a step toward her. Recognition skirted his memory as he searched for a name. “Kate Elliot?”
Her frown deepened. “How do you know my name?”
