“Indeed,” Duffy said. Burton snorted his disagreement.
“Difficult? Yes. But we have all of the FBI’s resources at our disposal,” he said. He turned to Peters, adding, “What’s mine is yours. We’ll hook you up with everything we’ve got, including manpower. Just let me know what you need, and we’ll make it happen.”
“I appreciate it,” Peters said, taking out his cell phone and calling downtown.
“No problem,” Burton replied. “Look, technology is our strength. We can find patterns, tap phones, conduct electronic surveillance, run censuses, and create spreadsheets like nobody’s business.” Nodding to Mac and the boys, he smiled. “You guys are good street cops, not always the bureau’s strong suit. I need to have you guys looking over the data we get, checking the possibilities we find, talking to your folks on the street. A cop is only as good as his informants, and around here, you guys are the ones who have them. Let’s share and stay in touch.”
“We can do that,” Riles agreed.
“Good,” Burton answered, rubbing his hands together, on a roll now. “I’m going to have my team in first thing tomorrow, three men and two women. Everything we collect, no matter from where, we feed in to the team and see what we come up with. It’s a process that’s worked well for us, helped us get people back. Add that to your resources and we have a shot at bringing the girl home in one piece.”
“Sounds good,” Peters replied. “Where do you want to work out of, your local office?”
“You can run out of your place,” Duffy added, “We’ll run out of our…”
Burton cut Duffy off, “No. No. No. Ed. We’ll run everything from the police department headquarters. If we’re split, we’re not sharing information and we get dumbass turf wars, people trying to one-up each other. Us Fed types are classic for that. I don’t care who cracks this thing. I know that doesn’t necessarily sound right to all of you, but I really don’t care. So let’s work it together; feed your information to my team on the technical side, and you can access anything you need. You feed us what you’re hearing on the street, and we’ll crack this thing. And getting back to business, when is it again we’ll have Hisle’s files to work through?”
“First thing in the morning,” Peters answered.
“So until it’s ready, you boys get some sleep,” the chief ordered.
Mac quietly opened the door to the bedroom and went to his side of the bed. He lightly laid his wallet, badge, and watch on the nightstand and looked down at Sally lying under the bed sheet, wearing a red teddy, looking beautiful.
He had met her eight months earlier. Sally Kennedy was the prosecutor on the case where he made his name. Mac was immediately attracted to her long red hair, curvaceous body, perfect bright smile, and passion for everything. Not to mention, she was smart, tough as nails, and a damn fine prosecutor.
Both were recently divorced when they met, and both were looking to get back into the dating game. But they knew it right away — they were right for one another. The relationship quickly moved beyond dating, and they were now practically living together. Well, there was no practically about it — there were half-emptied boxes all over the house and far too much furniture. Some of it would have to go into storage — the two of them just hadn’t figured out which pieces yet. His mother, a devout Catholic, of course protested the living arrangement prior to moving in.
“That’s living in sin,” she had lectured.
“I’m already divorced mom. What could I possibly have to lose in God’s eyes at this point?”
“Well at least make her an honest woman then,” his mother said.
“Mom, don’t even go there,” Mac had replied. He and Sally hadn’t even uttered the word. It was as if there was an unspoken agreement to not discuss marriage. Their divorces left them both scarred and fearful of the “m” word, but not commitment. They loved each other, said so to each other often and were very happy together. For now, that was enough for both of them.
Sally woke as he put his keys down.
“Tell me. Is it as bad as it seems on the news?”
“Right now, yes,” Mac answered and then brought her up to date. “I don’t know,” he finished. “Something about this is off.”
“They didn’t make the ransom demand, perhaps?”
“That’s exactly it, babe. It’s got me wondering,” Mac replied, nodding. “Nobody else seems terribly bothered by that, but I thought it was odd. I figured the kidnappers would want to move quickly on that before we had a chance to start digging. Instead they’re giving us a chance to start the hunt.”
“But the kidnappers said they want money.”
“They didn’t say that specifically. It sounds like they do, their actions suggest they do, everyone assumes that’s the case, but there was not a specific demand made. But if that’s what they’re after, not asking for it right away is strange in my mind.”
“Maybe they’re after Shannon,” Sally offered. “It could be they want her.”
Mac shook his head. “Naw. If that’s what they wanted, why call? Just to be sadistic? I don’t think so. I don’t think harming Shannon for the sake of harming her is part of the game here.”
“So they’re not crazy.”
“Other than kidnapping a woman in broad daylight in the middle of a big city — no.”
“It sounds like they’ve planned it well so far,” Sally noted.
“That’s for sure. The abduction was ballsy, but it was done with precision and planning.”
“They sound like they’re good,” Sally replied. “And from what you’re telling me, the pay phone, on that road, left him…”
“…with options,” Mac finished, frustration seeping into his voice. “Damn it. To me, abductions are the worst. You know something bad is coming and you’re almost powerless to stop it, no matter how hard you try.” He undid his shorts. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he grumbled.
Mac went into the bathroom and started the shower, letting the water heat up. The house was over seventy years old and had a bathroom that, while remodeled, retained its original charm and fixtures. The shower poured water into a long and wide cast-iron bathtub.
Climbing inside the shower, he tilted his head up and let the warm water wash over his head while he had both arms up against the wall of the shower. He needed to unwind. For five minutes he let the shower loosen his muscles, letting his mind clear. The shower curtain slid open and Sally stepped into the shower behind him. He turned to say something, but she put her fingers to his mouth and then kissed him lightly.
“I know you. You’re all wound up.” She reached for the soap. “I’m going to help you relax. Otherwise you’re no good to Lyman, and he needs you.”
Mac didn’t fight it and just let the water run down his body while Sally soaped his back and lightly rubbed his muscles, letting her breasts brush lightly against his back. After a few minutes of washing and rubbing, she spoke.
“What about the FBI? They’re in?”
“Yes,” Mac replied, not moving. “We’re lucky… I guess. Their best kidnapping guy — this guy named John Burton — was coming to town to do some training, so now he’s working it.”
Sally detected his uncertain tone.
“What’s the problem with the FBI guy?” she asked, washing around his right hip.
“I don’t know, he was awfully…”
“What?”
“Helpful. Seemed like a good guy.”
“And that’s bad?” Sally asked, lightly reaching around him, washing lightly down his lower stomach, moving ever lower.
“No, except…” Mac hesitated, Sally’s hand having gone very low. He was about to turn to her when she lightly pushed him back into place.
“Juuuust relaaaaax,” she murmured, moving the soap to her left hand, “and tell me about the FBI guy.”
Mac did as he was told and let her continue washing and relaxing him.
“He said all the right things. ‘We’re here to help, we’ll coordinate with you, access to everything they have, anything you need, we’re going to get Hisle’s girl back,’ so on and so forth.”