Eight hours after he’d begun the day, Wyatt found himself face to face with his computer screen in yet another search for information on Charley. Despite his intentions otherwise, he’d made a few calls and run through a number of red-taped requests that yielded no new information on the missing kid, though he learned the nanny, one Sophie Condes, had been found.
Two hours and what seemed like a hundred phone calls later, Sheila interrupted him. “Wyatt?”
“Yes?” He seethed through clenched teeth, lost in ten levels of security-clearance requests that got him nowhere.
Why do I care about this one case? Ah, yes. Mom. He ran a hand through his hair.
“You have a visit-”
“Oh for the love of god!” Wyatt’s bellow accompanied a pound on his desk. Why do people keep interrupting me this week?
“Ah, sir? He’s already heading your way. I wasn’t able to stop him.”
Wyatt whirled out of his chair, around his desk and pulled his weapon from its holster. Barrelling past Sheila didn’t bode well. Footsteps echoed down the hall as his visitor approached. Wyatt peeked around the corner.
Stuart, dressed in solid black, his hair mussed, walked toward him.
Wyatt re-holstered his gun.
Stuart’s smile grew as he approached.
Wyatt moved into the hallway to provide a proper welcome. “Stu-”
Stuart’s fist collided with his nose.
Wyatt’s head met the door frame. His vision wavered. He inched back toward the opening and reached for his gun.
“Leave it,” Stuart said. “I’m not going to hit you again.” He took a step toward Wyatt before he added, “I don’t think.”
Nose in hand, drops of red seeped onto his palm and down the arm of his jacket. “Dammit!” Wyatt tilted his head backward in the hopes of stopping the flow.
Stuart gave a light chuckle. “You know you’re supposed to go the other way, right?”
“Fuck off.” As much as he’d wanted to hit back, he simply couldn’t. He still held too much of their forgotten friendship within him.
Wyatt walked backward into his office, back around his desk and dropped in his chair. Stuart followed, taking the seat opposite. All lankiness gone, Stuart stretched his too-long legs out and relaxed his elbows on the arms.
“What do you want?” Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m tellin’ ya, man, lean forward.” Stuart stood and pushed Wyatt’s head to the desk with one hand.
The heartbeat in Wyatt’s nostrils began to wane. He stuffed his nose with tissues. Head against the surface of his desk, he let it rest. “Whan are you doon ’ere?’”
“You screwed up my op.”
“Tanks to myn bonss.”
Stuart laughed. “Thanks?”
Wyatt sat back up and pulled out the tissues. “Talk to my boss.”
“I did. He blames your team.”
“He told me to hire them.”
“I know.” Stuart laughed again. “I’d have done the same.”
“Then why?” Wyatt asked. “Why are you here?”
“Because it’s been a long time.”
“Nearly sixteen years.”
“What happened, man? Why have we spent half our lives doing the same thing yet with no sense of partnership?”
“You know the answer to that,” Wyatt said.
Stuart leaned forward in his chair. “Julie and I divorced four years ago.”
Didn’t know you were married to her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Stuart leaned back again. “No big deal. It was three years. We’d met up at a bar one night, kinda hooked up, moved forward fast and married. I was ready to ditch her ’bout a month in. She actually put in for the divorce.” He waved a hand as if he didn’t really care. “She’s an idiot, just like you always said-well not said, but we all knew in high school. Think I might have been reliving my youth. Stupid overall decision on my part.” Stuart’s ramblings continued without pause. “Thank god we didn’t have kids. Can you imagine? I mean, me and Julie? With this job?”
Wyatt shook his head. “You come for small talk, Stuart?”
“No.” He stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets and paced in Wyatt’s office. “I need your help.”
Lovely.
“I messed up the op in Montreal. We lost the connection when Kevin woke up in bed with both Candie and me.”
Wyatt smiled at the memory of how he’d set them up. “So the punch was for that?”
Stuart laughed. “Yeah. I owed you that one. Now we’re even.”
“What do you need help with?”
He stood behind the chair, hands on its back. “I want to work wi-I mean, for you. They want to can me over the screw-up. I’ve not been happy for a few years in my department, and our brief reunion brought back a lot of memories.”
“Not all the memories are good.”
“What do you want from me? An apology? Which I already provided, I should add.” He pointed an accusatory finger in Wyatt’s direction. “You want money? I got plenty of that, with the exception of Julie’s alimony. The woman is a real bitch.”
Wyatt shook his head.
“What then? What can I do to make up for sixteen years of lost friendship?”
“Tell me about Charley.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” Stuart threw his hands up in the air. “I already told you what you wanted to know.”
“You told me she was Mira. How did you learn that?”
“I tailed her. That was all. I followed Leena-Lily-to the airport that next day.”
“Not in South America?” Wyatt noted the shock in Stuart’s eyes. He’d slipped.
“No, before. But, I did catch up with her in South America, and that was accidental.”
“Then where did they go?”
Stuart hesitated. “In South America?”
“No. That next day. You didn’t tell me then, did you? For six weeks, I tried to find her-for six weeks! You joined the Army, up and left me to look on my own. My best friend-the guy who I’d been there for. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. You gave up on me, Stuart. You gave up.”
“I’m sorry, man. Everyone told me it was in your best inter-”
“Oh cut the crap, Stuart. You were my friend. My friend. Not everyone else’s. Who were you to decide what I should or shouldn’t know?”
Stuart hung his head-the same familiar, despondent way he used to.
“So tell me now. Tell me everything you know about Charley.”
Wyatt drove the familiar roads with Stuart in the lead. Why he’d agreed to go, he didn’t know. Between Stuart and his Mom, he’d been suckered into it. Wyatt opted to take his own car for an easier getaway, should he need it-which he expected he would.
At first, he’d been downright pissed. He’d thrown his favorite mug into the wall where it shattered and gouged a hole he’d have to patch later. Sheila had run from her desk but left in a huff when she’d seen the mess. He’d be damned if he’d admit any curiosity.
The ride up Turner Point hadn’t changed. Only a few houses clung to the harsh grade of curved asphalt. He knew the one at the top to be the most prominent and beautiful-it always had been.
Torn with memories, Wyatt punched the gas pedal, braking hard when he got too close to Stuart’s SUV. He groused how his friend’s vehicle should have been able to handle the mountainous landscape better than his Mustang, though if he’d been in front, he’d have taken the curves far too fast to burn off some of his anger.
Stuart had told him what happened years before but not how he’d gotten involved again. What Wyatt hadn’t understood, he’d ask, and he’d damn-well get answers. He didn’t care if they accomplished the purpose of their visit or not; he had his own mission. If Stuart really wanted a job, Charley’d best be completely and absolutely honest. He’d leave Stuart to set the guilt trip if he had to.
The crawled pace around the curves stoked Wyatt’s pent-up frustration. He knew his friend did it on purpose, but to pass would be a death sentence.
Wyatt honked and pulled out his cell.
Stuart picked up in one ring.
“There’s a mile left. Winter will be here before we get up there.”
“You done ranting and raving back there? ’Cause I told you where we’re going, and I will not be the reason you pick a fight with big and bigger.”
The nicknames fit James and Cael, though he and Stuart had gotten closer, if not quite as tall. “No, and I won’t until I get some real answers, so move it!” He pressed the ‘off’ button. “Damn phone! I can’t slam it, or it’ll break!” He yelled through the window as his fingers gripped the wheel tighter.
As they wound their way to the house, good memories lay in rest as if buried under the rubble of an earthquake. The house glistened under the sunlight and reflected blue sky. He knew why they’d chosen the spot at the top-they could see everywhere-as free and open as a bird in flight and yet contained, with no neighbors in sight.
He and Mira, or rather Charley, shared so much in one night’s kiss and yet so little.
The wheels crunched gravel as they made their way from road to driveway. Wyatt’s heartbeat sped up in anticipation. What would she say to him? How would she react? She’d be pissed. She’d be shocked. Big and Bigger would probably come to her rescue as they always seemed to do, or at least James would.
Wyatt took a deep breath and steeled himself as he stepped from within his car onto the driveway. Stuart walked back to him.
“Can you handle this, man?” Stuart asked.
“You’re asking your future potential boss if he can handle a situation?”
Stuart shook his head. “If that’s how you’re gonna play it, I can get hired on elsewhere.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Maybe that would be a better idea. “I already put in the departmental paperwork. It’s me or some assignment in Alaska.” Wyatt slammed his car door, and together they finished the forty-foot walk to the porch.
Stuart hesitated, one finger above the bell. “Ready? ’Cause they are only expecting me.”
“I’m ready.”
The quiet ding-dong hadn’t changed in sixteen years.
James appeared within the frame, stiffened.
“I know what you’re thinking, James,” Stuart said. “But all this mystery crap has got to stop.”
“It’s your funeral,” James said. He turned to Wyatt. “And yours, too, if you mess with her.”
Stuart stepped through as if he’d been a part of their lives for years-right over the threshold and into the same entry in which Wyatt had found himself before.
James shifted, letting Wyatt by, but turned to him before he could pass, extending a hand outward. “Thank you for coming.”
Wyatt didn’t have time to think of a witty response. “You’re welcome.” He shook James’s hand. That was odd.
James led the way through the entrance where new artwork plastered the walls. Wyatt recognized the signature in the corner of each one. Charley. It dawned on him he had a piece of her work. With one hand, he slapped his forehead.
Stuart stopped and turned. “What?”
Wyatt pointed to the name. “Charley.”
“Yeah. So?”
“She gave me one of her pieces the night she left-on my birthday. I have it at my house.”
Stuart shrugged. “Probably worth something if you want to sell it.”
No way. It’s the only thing that’s real these days. Wyatt shook his head.
Warm and inviting, the open loft with beams crisscrossed the ceiling and gave it a contemporary look but still a very homey feel-the same as it had been.
Lily and Cael sat together on the couch. A pixie-like woman lay with her head in Lily’s lap, bundled in a blanket, her eyes closed, breathing at a calm pace.
Charley had her back to them as Stuart sauntered into the kitchen.
From the back, if he let his mind clear, he could see his Mira in her: the shape of her hips, the length of her legs and the curls-though the color in no way matched. He tried to remember as Charley turned and caught him in mid-stare.
“Hello, Mira.” He held his expression as flat and unemotional as he could.
She gasped but recovered, shot a glance toward Stuart, James, Cael, and Lily before she turned back to him. “I didn’t expect you, Wyatt.”
“I brought him.” Stuart returned from the kitchen, an apple in hand. “Gonna be my boss,” he said between bites.
Charley drew in a deep breath and let it go, but the hint of a smile threw Wyatt.
What exactly is Stuart’s relationship with them?
Charley wanted to run up to Wyatt, grab him by the edges of his jacket and hold him so tight he’d never leave. Instead, she banked a laugh at Stuart, who clearly didn’t understand the nature of a secret-a time limit did not apply.
She knew Wyatt would notice the nonchalance of Stuart’s entry. It didn’t matter, though-their meeting didn’t revolve around either of them. They’d come together to find Chase.
Five days had passed since he’d disappeared. Sophie’s return confused the situation, leaving Charley and the detectives with no new information and even more questions.
“Would you like a chair?” She motioned to the spots around the room.
Wyatt shook his head as Stuart plopped onto the loveseat.
Sophie took up most of the couch, so Charley moved to the end and sat on the arm.
“Thank you for coming, Stuart, and you, too, Wyatt.” Charley nodded at each in turn. “Would you like a debrief?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Wyatt said as Stuart’s focus returned to his apple.
Charley went through the details as she knew them.
“Have the police tapped your phone?” Wyatt asked.
She tilted her head toward him. “Yes, but it hasn’t been useful. They didn’t call, and with Sophie back, I can’t imagine they will. There was no ransom request. Nothing.”
“But we do have Sophie’s note.” James handed the paper Charley found to Wyatt.
He studied it a moment. “Has she given you any context for it?”
“No.” Charley shook her head. “None. She doesn’t remember it. What do we do?” Charley said with a hitch in her voice.
Wyatt’s small head shake did not encourage her. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but with three guys in the FBI, she’d hoped they’d unlock a door behind which she’d find Chase. Fantastical, sure, but what mother wouldn’t think through all possibilities, ethereal or otherwise?
“I talked with Detective Bland before we started over. Apparently you guys-” Wyatt pointed to Charley and her group. “You have a lot of people on your side. My mother even.”
Over the years, they’d led Katherine, Wyatt’s Mom, to believe Charley left the house to her granddaughter, named after her. They’d all been too taken in by her to sever their ties.
“Anyway,” Wyatt continued. “They’ve got it all laid out, multiple officers tracking leads and sources-”
“We could assist more.” Cael sat upright. “We have our own resources. We’ve scoured every connection we could come up with on our own already. We need to be prepared for every possibility.”
“Yes, but since you’ve got a vested interest in this, they want you to remain outside the bounds of the investigation.” Wyatt’s gaze tracked to Stuart.
“We need to do something.” Lily spoke through a small hitch in her own breath.
Cael pulled her in tighter to him.
“As the victim’s family, the best thing you can do is let the professionals do their job,” Wyatt said.
Stuart jumped up. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Charley and Lily both jerked back. Cael and James leaned forward, their elbows on their knees.
“Give ’em access, Wyatt. You know you can trust Cael, at least,” Stuart said.
Surprise warred with excitement over the possibility they’d have more to do. Wyatt turned to Stuart, a serious glare in his eye. Charley’s heart skipped a beat; he’d dashed her hopes as fast as Stuart raised them.
“Cael?” Wyatt said. “Can I speak with you privately, please?”
Cael nodded and released Lily, rose from the couch and stood. He lead Wyatt out of the room.
“What does he need to really let us in on this, Stuart?” Charley asked.
She’d give him anything if they could be more active participants. They’d been designed for investigative missions, and Charley knew they would find success if someone gave them entry to the FBI’s greater resources, not just their own.
“I don’t know.” Stuart flopped onto the couch. “He’s Director level, so I’m not privileged to most of his information. But… he is going to transfer me to his department.” Stuart added a sweet smile-one Charley knew meant he’d found his place again with Wyatt.
Her own frustration clouded her happiness for him.
Wyatt came back in, followed on his heels by Cael.
“Wyatt’s going to transfer me to his department, and I’ll get the information we need. Whatever I relay to you must be held in the strictest of confidences-which, of course, most of us know how to do.” He shot a glance at Stuart. “I don’t know if this will help or not, but it’s worth a shot.”
Charley stood and walked to Wyatt. He tilted down to her, his gaze meeting hers-the same but different, mature but young, tough but soft. So many memories, so many times she’d lain in bed and wished him there beside her. The man before her, despite everything she’d done to him, had once again put her first-whether he did it for her or his duty.
“Wyatt-”
“Don’t.” He brought one hand up and wiped away a tear that made its way down her cheek. He closed his eyes as his thumb caressed her skin.
Charley took a tentative inch of a step forward. The connection remained, no matter the number of lies that formed the wall between them.
She laid her hand on his, left his against her face and looked up into his green eyes. “Thank you.” She poured sincerity into those two little words in the hope it could begin to mend what she’d ripped into so many pieces.
His lips firmed into a tight line as he dropped his hand. “Just doing my job.”
Charley moved away as Cael touched Wyatt’s arm, taking his attention. Her departure burned right through his core. He’d wanted to crush her against him. He’d wanted to feel her move under him like he’d always imagined. Yet, he couldn’t put the face with the memories.
Instead, he reverted to his work. With the boy as priority, a relationship would lose precedence.
“We can set up here if you have an office, or back at mine if you’d like,” Wyatt said.
“We have an office this way.” Cael walked toward the home’s entrance again.
Wyatt turned to follow with Stuart and James in tow. They traipsed down the hall by the stairs. Art covered the walls, signed by Charley and Cael-who Wyatt remembered he’d known before as Carter.
Cael led him to an office decked out in state-of-the-art equipment-pieces Wyatt had attempted to requisition for years with no luck. Some of it, he knew, cost as much as his car. Thousands of dollars of computer hardware lay in front of him.
“What do you guys do, exactly?” Wyatt asked as he took in the room, three times the size of his own office.
“Exactly what you hired us for. Intelligence,” Charley said from behind him.
Intelligence my ass.
Cael took the controls at the computer, motioning for Charley to sit at the phone. “We just need to dial in Detective Bland before we make this call.”
Wyatt nodded him forward.
Charley’s hands shook as she took the phone. For a seasoned agent who worked with the FBI, her nerves surprised Wyatt.
Cael pressed a few buttons, which meant the call would be recorded.
“We’re good to go here, folks,” Bland said.
Wyatt and the rest placed headsets over their ears.
“You ready, Charley?” Cael asked.
She nodded, bringing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” A robotic female voice answered.
“This is Charley Randall. Who is this?” Her voice lent itself to a plea.
“That doesn’t matter.” The voice held a harsh undertone. “Took you long enough.”
Wyatt bristled at the tone and the implication they’d waited to call.
“Are you alone?”
She glanced up to Cael, Wyatt, James and Stuart. “Yes.”
“Good.” The voice turned deep and menacing. “You found the girl, then?”
Charley froze, her eyes growing wide. “Of course. But what about-”
The voice chuckled. “The boy? What about the boy?”
The room, while silent, remained as still as if frozen in time.
Charley opened her mouth as if to speak, but the voice interrupted. “He was a nice prize once we figured out she wasn’t you, Charley.”
“But-”
“No interruptions. You get this one call to us. That’s it. From now on, we’ll call you.”
Charley shivered in her seat, the phone rattling against her earring. Wyatt’s need to comfort warred with his role as investigator.
“Is he safe?” Her voice carried in a whisper.
“Yes.” The line died with one second to spare on their trace.
Charley dropped the phone and ran from the room with her hands over her face.
Wyatt laid the headphones on the desk. Three faces stared back at him.
“She’ll be on her balcony. I’m sure you can find the way,” James said.
Charley pushed through her door and marched onto her balcony. She grabbed one of her afghans and walked to the rail where she flipped the blanket around her shoulders and let it fall across her back.
The cool air calmed the fury which burned within her as the captors confirmed Chase’s containment but gave nothing more away. A fresh batch of tears spilled over her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand as footsteps signaled behind her.
Charley didn’t turn around but breathed deep. Wyatt. She hadn’t led him, but he’d found her.
“James told me where you’d be.”
“I figured one of them had.” She let a small laugh free.
“Can I sit?”
Charley motioned with a wave but didn’t turn around. Her desire for closeness warred with her need to focus on Chase.
“If you’re going to try and convince me Chase will be fine, don’t. You don’t know. We don’t know. No one knows, no matter what they said on the phone, which was nothing. It could all be a ploy, a ruse to build up my hopes.” She continued to stare into the vastness of the fast-approaching night.
Chase’s absence put her emotions on a roller coaster with no end.
“Ah… okay. So what I was actually going to say… you did a really great job on the phone. I know it might not sound like it, but… well… you did.” His shuffling feet reminded her of years passed.
She closed her eyes, dropped her head forward. “Thanks.”
“Okay then, I’ve… uh… I’m going back.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She’d not only lost Chase, she had a long way to win Wyatt again.