A child disappears. A high-stakes rescue mission. A secret that’s critical to national security.

From the best selling author of Twelve Years Gone and The Moscow Brief comes a nerve-twisting story that will keep you reading until the end.

For a close knit family, the abduction of one of their own means everything is on the line.

Everything.

Jess Montgomery, an intelligence analyst focused on domestic terrorism, knows the clock is ticking from the moment her niece disappears. The kidnappers want one thing – an impossible ask – a secret so important it’s protected by national security.

Thrown into a maze of murder, deception and conspiracy, Jess knows she has only one choice, save Abby.

But, can she do it in time?

Prologue

Jess stood off to the side, her teeth chattering and
soaked to the bone from the chilly rain coming from above; the smell of smoke
in her nostrils. Her brother, Chase, had dragged their little sister, Rachel,
away from her as soon as Jess admitted there’d been a candle burning in her
bedroom before the fire started. Their life would never be the same.

            “This is your fault,” he hissed. “It’s your fault we’re
orphans.”

Chapter 1

It was getting hard to breathe.

Jess Montgomery shifted her weight
from one hip to the other. Sitting on the hard tile floor of the bank was
making her back ache. She tried to slow her breathing. The black hood over her
head and the duct tape over her mouth made it difficult to do anything other
than concentrate on sucking one breath in and letting another one out. When
they first put the hood over her head, she strained to hear what the men in the
bank were doing. After a few minutes, she realized the only thing she had the
strength to do was to concentrate on the next breath.

Jess kept her hands folded in her lap, as
she and the others had been told to do. There was nothing she wanted to do more
than to rip the tape off her mouth and hood off of her head, but the men she’d
gotten a glimpse of when they’d taken over the bank were heavily armed, wearing
black from head to toe, including masks and heavy tactical vests. She knew
she’d be no match for them. Her heart started to beat a little bit faster,
wondering if Abby was still next to her.           

The morning had started off
pleasantly enough. It was a nice day in Tucson. Not too hot. Jess had swung by
her brother’s house to pick up her niece, Abby. Abby had just run one of the
fastest times in her training for her middle school soccer team and they were
headed out to celebrate. After a big pile of pancakes at a local diner,
slathered with sweet butter and sticky maple syrup, they had walked outside
talking about how Abby had decided she wanted to be a veterinarian, enjoying
the morning sun and the dry air.

“Large animal or small? Jess asked.

“Both,” Abby said, a grin on her face. “I
want to help them all, but not snakes. I don’t like them.”

Jess smiled. It was just like Abby to want
to do it all. “Me neither, though we have a lot of them around here. Is it okay
if we duck into the bank for a minute?”

            Abby was only twelve, but she seemed
a little taller to Jess every time she saw her; her dark, wavy hair caught in a
ponytail around the back of her head. Abby never dressed up. She wasn’t that
kind of a girl, unlike her mother, Piper, who was what Jess’s mom used to refer
to as “fancy.”

            Abby smirked, “So, this whole
pancake thing was just a ploy to get me to go run your Saturday errands with
you?”

            Abby’s sarcasm was one of the things
that Jess loved about her niece the most. From the time she was just a toddler,
Abby said what she thought. It didn’t matter who was around or what questions
they had. Abby could’ve been standing in front of her favorite boy band and
would have told them to shove off if it met her purposes.

            Jess grinned, “No, silly. The bank
sent me some paperwork that I need to have notarized and turned in by today.
Why, I have no idea.”

            Earlier that week, Jess received a
package overnighted to her, the sound of the doorbell rousing her border
collie, Milton, who charged and barked at the door. As Jess ripped the package
open, grateful for a little break from her work as an intelligence analyst, she
found a curt letter from the bank that held the mortgage on the small house she
owned on the outskirts of Tucson, “Ms. Montgomery, it has come to our attention
that your file is lacking form 1718B. In order to continue to fund your
mortgage, we need this form notarized and returned to the closest bank branch
no later than Saturday.”

            By the time Saturday rolled around,
Jess had forgotten all about the papers, but saw them sitting on the counter.
Groaning, she sent the bank manager an email. They’d gotten friendly over the
last few years, Jess always saying hi whenever she went in the bank. Luckily,
the diner she and Abby liked to go to was across the street from the South
Ridge Bank branch where the papers needed to be returned. “Derek, I’m heading
out to breakfast with my niece tomorrow morning. I’ll swing by the bank as soon
as we’re done eating,” she wrote back. These bank people are being really
pesky, she thought.

            Walking into the bank, it seemed
like business as usual. There were a couple of customers lined up at the
counter, smiling and nodding at the tellers in front of them. A man brushed
past Jess as she walked into the bank and headed toward the bank manager’s
office, clearly in a hurry. “How long is this going to take?” Abby said, in her
usual sarcastic tone. “I’ve got places to be.”

            Jess raised her eyebrows, “And where
might that be, missy? Your mom said you didn’t have anywhere to be today until
later.”

            Abby’s eyes darted to the floor,
“Well, I was thinking about going over to Stephanie’s house before we go out to
dinner. You know, just to hang out.”

            Jess smiled. She knew that just
hanging out meant eating a lot of junk food and watching videos online with her
friends. “Yes, I can see how that might be a priority,” Jess said, realizing
that her tone matched Abby’s. “I’ll try to make this fast.”

            Behind her, near the front door of
the bank, Jess heard a click she didn’t recognize. It sounded like metal on
metal. As she turned, she saw four men, dressed in black tactical gear with
masks over their faces, charging into the bank, rifles held up to their faces.
Her heart started to pound in her chest and Jess pushed Abby behind her. A
deafening noise rang through the bank, causing them both to cover their ears
and drop to the ground.

            “Nobody move!” A male voice rang
out, bouncing off the walls of the bank. Three shots from a rifle echoed after
him, nearly deafening Jess. “We have now taken control of this bank. You will
do as you are told. If you do, no one will be hurt.”

            The men, using the tips of their
rifles as prods, lined everyone up against the teller’s counter, facing the
front door, while another man used a chain to lock the doors closed. “All cell
phones need to go in this wastebasket. If you try to hold onto your cell phone,
you will be shot,” a man said, striding past each person. His lips were set in
a thin line, staring at each hostage as he walked by, a bag in his left hand,
his right hand wrapped around the grip of the rifle. Jess tossed her cell phone
in the wastebasket and nodded at Abby, whose eyes were wide. Abby dropped hers
in as well. Another man walked to the windows and closed the blinds. As Jess
glanced around, she saw the faces of the people who were trapped in the bank
with her — some old, some young, but none of them as young as Abby. All Jess
could hope was that one of the tellers had managed to press the silent alarm
before the bank robbers had gotten too far into the building.

            Standing against the teller’s
counter, Jess didn’t say anything, her body frozen with fear. Jess reached for
Abby’s hand and held it, giving it a little squeeze. How could this be
happening to them? After a minute or so, one of the men stood in front of the
line of hostages, “We will make this as comfortable for you as possible. You
are going to be given a piece of duct tape. Put it over your mouth. After that,
you will be given a black hood. Put that over your head. After that, you are to
sit down exactly where you are standing and fold your hands in your lap. If
anyone gets up or moves, they will be shot. If you need anything, raise your
hand. Do not remove your hood or the tape on your mouth for any reason unless
told to do so. Is that clear?”

            The way the man barked out the
orders made Jess think of a drill sergeant. Could the robbers be military? She
didn’t have a chance to really look at them as they were coming into the bank.
She was too stunned, too scared at how quickly the morning had turned from fun
with Abby, to well… this. And now that they were about to tape her mouth and
put a hood on her head, she’d get no look at them at all.

            A short, stocky man started at the
front of the line, four people down from where Jess and Abby were standing and
gave them each a piece of duct tape. As he handed it to Jess, she glanced at
Abby and nodded, trying to encourage her young niece to do exactly as the men
had told them. Unless the police arrived quickly, there was little hope they
could do anything other than follow the orders barked at them.

            A minute later, a second man, taller
and leaner than the first man with the tape walked down the line, instructing
each person to sit down and put the hood on their head. Jess remembered reading
a report one time about hoods used in crimes her boss, Charlie Burns, her boss
at the North American Intelligence Institute, had given her to read after a
rash of home invasions funded by a terrorist group broke out in South Dakota.
They were meant to be disorienting. It was hard to take action to protect
yourself if you couldn’t see where you were. On top of that, they had guns and
she didn’t, not that Jess would know what to do with one anyway. Her dad had
been a hunter, but she’d never gone. Glancing up at the man, Jess slid the
black hood over her face, the acrid odor of chemicals still clinging to the new
fabric burning her nose.

After a moment, the air inside of the hood
became warm and damp from the breath going in and out of her nostrils. Jess
glanced in Abby’s direction, or at least the direction she thought Abby was
sitting, hoping to be able to make out at least the silhouette of her niece
through the fabric. She couldn’t. The weave of the cloth draped over her eyes
and nose was tight, making it even more difficult to breathe, little puffs of
air moving the fabric out of the way with every breath. A knot formed in Jess’s
chest. It was getting hard to breathe. Panic rose in her throat. She swallowed
the best she could, not wanting to throw up. The nerves at the back of her neck
tingled and her mind became foggy as she tried to take long, slow breaths.
She’d seen that on a video one time as a way to stay calm. As her breath
started to slow, she realized that there was nothing she could do to escape.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Jess wasn’t going to be able to battle her way out of
the bank. It was just her and Abby against men that definitely looked like they
had more tactical training than anyone should. Jess didn’t know a lot about the
training that the men in front of her probably had, but she’d read about it an
awful lot. For a moment, her mind tried to lock on to some of her last reports
that she’d sent to Charlie. As an intelligence analyst, she was a paper pusher,
not someone who knew how to fight. The slow trickle of air in and out of her
nostrils made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than breathing,
though. Jess fought the urge to reach a hand towards Abby. Her nails bit into
the palms of her hands. She tried to relax, but the pounding of her heart rang
in her ears. She knew the best thing she could do would be to sit and wait. The
police had to know there was a robbery in progress, didn’t they?

After what seemed to be about twenty
minutes, Jess heard the muffled sound of sirens blaring in the background
through the hood. The police. Jess felt a wave of emotion wash over her.
Relief, then a new wave of fear. Someone had managed to get off a silent alarm
before Jess, Abby and the rest of the people in the bank ended up sitting on
the floor with duct tape over their mouths and black hoods over their faces,
waiting politely for men in combat gear to decide whether they should live or
die.

With the hood on, it was difficult to hear
what was going on behind them. Jess wondered if that was intentional by the
robbers, whoever they were. She could make out low murmuring toward the side of
the bank where the bank manager’s desk was, and a few sniffles from some of the
people sitting nearby. Jess closed her eyes for a moment, not that she could
see anything anyway, and tried to remember how many people were in the bank
when she and Abby walked in. From behind the tape, Jess chewed her lip, realizing
there was no way for her to focus well enough to even try to remember. Were
there eight hostages? Ten? Jess felt like her body was coated in needlelike
prickles, fear running in waves over her again and again, not knowing what
would happen next. Wondering if Abby was okay was eating away at the inside of
her, bit by bit.

Shifting on the hard floor, Jess realized
it had been a while since anything had happened. The sirens outside had gone
silent. Occasionally, she thought she could hear the sound of boots walking by
her, but she wasn’t sure, the darkness of the hood muddying everything around
her. Losing her sight, she expected. Not being able to hear and not be able to
breathe was something completely different. Without warning, Jess heard the men
start to move around in the building, heavy footfalls passing her. It sounded
like they were running toward the back of the building. She straightened up
against the teller’s counter. Were they leaving? Where were they going? Jess’s
mind raced. It took everything she had to not reach for Abby, to not rip the
hood off of her face and the tape from her 
mouth, to see what was going on. But she had no idea what they would do
to her if she did. They said they’d shoot people, but would they? Jess’s heart
started to pound in her chest again. The bank robbers said when they entered
the bank that no one would get hurt if they all cooperated. She thought about
Abby, her round face and her big eyes. How would Abby ever get past what was
happening to her?

Before Jess could finish the thought, a
voice boomed out and echoed against the walls of the bank, “Get up!” It sounded
like the first man again, his gravelly voice grinding into her ears. Jess
struggled to her feet. Her body had gotten stiff from sitting on the hard
floor, nervous tension coiling her muscles into tight knots.

The voice came again, “Listen up! So far,
all of you have done exactly what we asked you to do. That’s good. Let’s see if
we can keep the streak running. If you don’t cooperate, then you know the
consequences. We won’t ask questions. We will just put a bullet through your
brain.” There was silence in the bank for a moment, the breath caught in Jess’s
nostrils. By the bark in his voice, there was no doubt in Jess’s mind that the
man meant every word he said. Prickles of fear ran down the back of her legs.
Her arms hanging limp, Jess tried to slow her breathing again. The last thing
she wanted to do was cry.

The voice interrupted her thoughts, “In a
few minutes, we will have you turn to your right and follow the person in front
of you. One of my men will come by and put another person’s hand on your
shoulder. Do not move until we tell you to do so. When we tell you to move, you
will do so without argument or drama.”

From behind where Jess was standing, she
could hear more murmuring and the bank phone ringing. It had to be the police.
Had the robbers talked to them yet? The muffle from the hood made it nearly
impossible to hear anything except for the words of the man who barked at them.
Jess did a quick calculation. Depending on which way they turned the hostages,
Abby would either be behind Jess or Jess would be behind Abby. Jess’s mind
reeled, trying to get her bearings. Which way was the entrance? She’d been in the
Catalina branch of the South Ridge Bank a million times, but for some reason,
her mind couldn’t grasp which direction was which.

The man’s voice boomed again, “Okay, get
up!”

Jess heard a shuffling noise behind her as
if feet were moving slowly on the ground. They were being lined up. Where they
were going, Jess didn’t know. The breath caught in her chest as she felt a warm
hand on her left shoulder. A little bit of pulling and a firm grip around her
wrist landed her hand on the shoulder of someone in front of her. Jess felt the
fabric, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that she was a hostage
in a bank robbery. The fabric felt smooth, the fibers woven flat and tight, as
though it was part of a men’s suit jacket or something. Whoever it was seemed
to be a bit taller than she was, maybe just shy of six feet. It wasn’t Abby,
that was for sure. Jess focused back on the hand on her left shoulder. We’re
going to get through this, Abby, just hang on, Jess thought, wishing she could
say the words out loud.

The booming voice bounced off the bank
walls again, “Good. I see everyone wants to get out of today’s experience
alive. In a moment, we will ask you to move. You are to move forward until we
tell you to stop and then stand still. If you don’t, you know the
consequences.”

A moment later, Jess felt a push from the
hand behind her. Was that Abby? It had to be the signal to move forward.
Looking down, Jess realized she couldn’t see her feet. The hood was cupped
underneath her chin, so the best she could do was shuffle forward. She dragged
her feet on the ground, the soles of her tennis shoes making an occasional
squeak on the tile. “Okay, everyone, stop,” the voice said again. “No one move,
until we tell you to do otherwise. Understood?” Jess nodded in what she hoped
was the response the robbers wanted. She hoped Abby nodded too.

They stood in the line for what seemed
like another fifteen or twenty minutes. Jess’s arms dangled at her side, her
body limp. The murmuring from behind her disappeared and then there was
silence. Jess wondered if her ears were playing games. Why is it so quiet? The
sound of her own breath going in and out through her nostrils echoed in her
head. As best Jess could tell, a few more minutes went by before there was
noise ahead of her, yelling and shouting, then a loud bang that dropped Jess to
her knees. Hitting the hard ground, pain shot up through her legs. There was
the sound of boots running past her, yells of “Police!” everywhere. Jess rolled
over and sat on the floor, not moving, unsure what to do. Did the police really
come to rescue them or was this the robbers just testing her to make sure that
she wouldn’t move?

A moment later, Jess felt a warm hand on
her shoulder and heard a female voice, “It’s okay, ma’am. I’m with the police.
I’m gonna pull the hood off.”

Jess blinked as the light in the bank
constricted her pupils, blinding her. What seemed like a warm and friendly
place to do her financial business had now turned into a war zone. Police
officers, dressed almost exactly like the bank robbers, except for the yellow
letters emblazoned across their chests that read “Police,” were stationed at
every corner of the bank, their tactical helmets strapped under their chins,
their eyes scanning. Jess heard crying to her left and glanced over, to see an
older woman who couldn’t seem to get off the floor. Two police officers were
kneeling by her, one of them waving toward the front door. A team of paramedics
ran by, their medical bags slung over their shoulders. Jess reached up to touch
her face, pulling the strip of tape away from her mouth. Exhaling, she felt
fresh air pass her teeth. The female police officer was staring at her, not
saying anything.

“Abby? Where’s Abby?” Jess said, staring
at the officer.

The officer shook her head a little bit.
Jess noticed her name badge read Sullivan, “Abby? Who’s that?”

“My niece. She was in the bank with me. I
thought she was right behind me,” Jess glanced to her left and right, feeling
another wave of fear crash over her. She scrambled to her feet, “I have to find
her.”

Sullivan nodded, a few wisps of hair
coming loose from the bun neatly tied at the back of her neck. She put a hand
on Jess’s arm, “I’m sure she’s outside. That’s where all the hostages are.
Let’s go look out there.”

Jess pushed Sullivan away and ran past a
couple of the police officers. The doors of the bank had been propped open with
the entry. Just outside, Jess stopped, blinking in the sun. The street in front
of the bank, between where she and Abby had breakfast and where they’d been
held had turned into a small city, a mobile command unit was set up near the
corner, three news vans were set up behind that, their long satellite booms
jutting into the air. To her left, Jess saw a tent and a line of ambulances and
police cruisers. The entire street was clogged with them. There was no moving
around except for by foot. Jess looked behind her and saw Sullivan, “Where are
they?”

Sullivan pointed at the white tent near
the ambulances, “Over there. All of the hostages and the detectives are over
there.”

Jess’s heart pounded in her chest and she
took off at a run. She had to find Abby. The hot Tucson sun was pouring down
onto the street, the canvas from the tent flapping gently in the breeze.
“Abby?” Jess yelled, stopping just outside of the tent. “Abby? Where are you?”

A man dressed in jeans and a shirt
approached Jess and stood right in front of her. He was about five inches
taller than Jess, making him maybe five feet ten inches, with a shaved head and
small eyes, “Ma’am, I’m Detective Jamison Saunders. Who are you looking for?”

“My niece, Abby Montgomery. She’s twelve.
We went to breakfast,” Jess said, whirling around and pointing at the diner
across the street, the words coming out of her mouth in a tumble, “and then I
needed to go drop off some paperwork at the bank. She was right next to me when
the robbers came in. Where is she?” Jess whirled back around, her heart
skipping a beat, her hands clammy.

Saunders stood in front of her like a
tree, not moving, “We’ve transported a few people to the hospital, but I’m not
sure about anyone who’s twelve. Are you sure she was at the bank with you?”

Heat rose in Jess’s cheeks, “Are you
kidding me? Are you actually asking me if I imagined my niece was in the bank
with me? Yes, she was in the bank with me. Now, where is she? What have you
done with her?”

Detective Saunders stared at Jess for a
second, then glanced at Sullivan. Jess saw Sullivan shake her head slightly as
if she was letting Saunders know that Abby was nowhere to be found. Saunders
reached out a hand toward Jess’s arm, the skin tan and brown from the desert
sunshine, “I’m sure she’s here somewhere, ma’am. Just give me a couple minutes
to find her. In the meantime, why don’t you sit down and we’ll have our
paramedics take a look at you, and then I’ll ask you a few questions for our
report.”

Jess could barely hear the words coming
out of the detective’s mouth. Walking past her was a team of FBI agents, their
badges swinging from their necks. Another team of paramedics rolled a gurney
toward the bank. Jess couldn’t stand still -- she kept scanning the crowd for
Abby. Saunders said something to her, but Jess couldn’t make out the words.
Bile rose in her throat. Abby had to be here, somewhere. She was right next to
Jess when the robbery happened. Jess scoured her memory. It was all broken apart,
like a vase that had fallen on the floor and shattered into a million pieces.
Jess remembered going into the bank with papers in hand, Abby behind her, then
the commotion of the robbers, Jess pushing Abby behind her to protect her. It
was a mother’s instinct, although she didn’t have any of her own kids. Her
brother, Chase, barely trusted Jess with Abby. It had taken years for him to
agree to let Jess take Abby out without him or his wife present. Now Abby was
missing.

Jess blinked a couple of times in the
bright sunshine and then glanced at Saunders and Sullivan who weren’t saying
anything. They were just watching her; like they were waiting for her to calm
down or change her story. For a second, Jess wondered if that was some tactic
they learned in the police academy to calm victims. The problem was Jess wasn’t
calm. She wouldn’t be until she found Abby. “I have to find her. I’ve got to
go,” Jess said, taking off at a run towards the bank of ambulances that were
parked off to the side, their lights flashing.

From behind her, Jess heard shouts from
the detective, “Wait! Let us help you!” But she didn’t listen. Going from
ambulance to ambulance, Jess looked inside, grabbing the arm of one of the
paramedics. “How many people have gone to the hospital?” Jess said, “I’m
looking for my niece.”

“I think three, ma’am. They told us to be
ready for a few more. I guess there’s an older lady in the bank that’s having
trouble breathing.”

“Any of them a young girl? Dark, wavy
hair, twelve years old?”

The paramedic shook his head, “Not that I
know of. You might want to check with command under the white tent. They can
probably help you better than I can.”

Jess glanced back at the white tent, the
cluster of people still standing under it, trying to stay out of the hot sun.
She turned back to the line of ambulances. Maybe Abby had darted in one of
them, trying to stay safe after the police broke into the building? Jess ran
past five more ambulances screaming, “Abby? Abby? Where are you?”

She wasn’t there.

At the
end of the ambulances, Jess turned back towards the command center at a half
walk, half run. Her entire body felt like it was poised on the brink of
collapsing, the adrenaline surging and receding as she realized she couldn’t
find Abby. Saunders was still standing in the same position she’d left him,
taking down notes on an old-fashioned pad when Jess ran back under the tent, “I
can’t find her. Where is she?”

Saunders
blinked and then closed the notebook, shoving it in the back of his jeans
pocket, “Come on. I’ll take you back in the bank. Maybe she’s hiding in there
somewhere that we don’t know about.”

Jess
nodded and followed him, trotting behind his long strides. At least he seemed
like he might believe her. Inside the bank, there was a lot of movement.
Paramedics and police officers were still working on clearing out the last of
the victims. The woman that had been having trouble breathing was now on a
gurney, strapped in, an oxygen mask on her face, her lips pale and her eyes
closed. The team of FBI agents had fanned out all over the building, the bright
yellow letters on the back of their T-shirts letting everyone know the feds had
arrived.

Just
inside the door, Saunders stopped, looking at another officer, “Any idea how
these guys got away?”

The
officer shook his head, “Not yet.”

Saunders
looked at the young man, “This woman is looking for her niece. She said they
entered the bank together, but I don’t have any record of anyone under the age
of sixteen in the bank. Do you?”

The
officer shook his head, “No, sir. I watched all the hostages as they came out.
Nobody looked to be any younger than about thirty to me. I could be wrong
though.” The officer shrugged.

Jess’s
stomach cramped. The officers were making her feel like she was crazy. Abby was
with her. That was a fact. She stared at them, wondering what she’d need to do
to get them to believe her. “Where are the cell phones? They took all of our
cell phones.”

Saunders
pointed at the teller’s counter, “Looks like they might be working on them over
there.”

Without
thinking, Jess ran over to where a forensics expert was taking pictures of all
of the cell phones. They were lined up on the counter. Jess scanned the phones
and then pointed, “That one!” Jess pointed to a pink case with a Hello Kitty
sticker stuck to the back. The sticker was a joke. Abby didn’t like cats and
she certainly didn’t like Hello Kitty, but for some reason, she thought it was
funny. “That one is Abby’s.”

Detective
Saunders gave a slight nod to the tech, “I need this phone…” he said.

“And
that one, too,” Jess said. “That one is mine.”

The
forensics technician, a small blonde woman with her hair tied in a low bun
behind the back of her neck took a few more pictures and flipped each phone
over with rubber glove hands. “Want me to dust these for prints?” she said.

Before
Saunders could answer, Jess said, “You won’t find any. They had gloves on. That
much I remember. Until they put the hoods on…” Jess swallowed hard remembering
the feel of the dark fabric sliding over her face, the chemical smell of the
new fabric as it flowed into her nostrils. “I gotta go.”

Jess
grabbed the two cell phones from the forensics tech and started to leave, when
Saunders called after her, “I still have questions for you. I can help you find
Abby.”

Jess
didn’t wait. They couldn’t help her find Abby. Until a minute ago, Detective
Saunders hadn’t even believed Abby existed. She ran out of the bank and
disappeared into the crowd, knowing that finding Abby was up to her.

Chapter 2

            Jess darted between two buildings, dodging the blinking
lights and the police tape that had been practically wrapped around the entire
block where the bank was located. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her
hands were still clammy, but she made her way down an alley, darting left and
then turning right behind another building before weaving her way back to the
parking lot where she’d left her car. A lump formed in her throat. What if the
emergency vehicles blocked her car in and she couldn’t get out? As she slowed
down, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She needed to call Chase. He
needed to know what happened and that it wasn’t her fault.

            Jess shoved Abby’s phone in the back pocket of her jeans
and pulled up Chase’s number. Her hands were shaking and the phone bobbled. She
nearly dropped it. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her car. With the
phone pressed up against her ear she glanced left and right, trying to see if
she could get out of the parking lot. There were no police cars with flashing
lights or yellow tape anywhere to be seen. That was a break, she thought,
thinking back to just a few hours before when she and Abby had arrived in
Catalina on the outskirts of Tucson’s downtown. It wasn’t always easy to find a
parking spot.

            As Jess got in her car, she felt her heart race again.
Chase hadn’t picked up. Jess chewed her lip, scrolling through her contacts,
trying to call Piper, Abby’s mom. No luck. Piper might not even accept her
call. The two of them hadn’t always gotten along that well. Piper wasn’t
exactly someone Jess would hang out with, with all of her fancy, designer
clothes and lunch dates with her friends. Jess was a bit more rough-and-tumble,
sometimes even more so than her brother, who was frequently buried in books or
some sort of research. Piper’s phone went to voicemail. Jess pushed her
shoulder-length, straight dark hair behind her ear as she left a message,
“Piper, it’s Jess. I was at the bank with Abby and there was a robbery. I don’t
know where she is. Call me when you can.”

            Jess threw the car into gear and pulled out of the
parking lot, nearly sideswiping another vehicle at the end of the row, “Easy,
Jess. You’re not going to be any good to anyone if you get yourself killed,”
she muttered. Of course, the detectives were going to do everything they could
to get Abby back, but they were more focused on securing the bank right now
than anything else.

Out on
the road, Jess traveled down Canyon Pass and took a right onto State Street,
hitting the merge onto highway seventy-seven. As she drove, she thumbed through
her contacts, going back to Chase. She called him twice more, but he didn’t
answer. Typical. She couldn’t leave him a message on his phone like the one
that she left for Piper. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, not after what
happened.

Memories
of years before surfaced in Jess’s mind as she gripped the wheel a little
harder, willing Chase or Piper to call her back. Jess remembered the week after
the house fire. They’d ended up staying with their next-door neighbor until
their aunt could come in from Boston to get them. Jess had snuck out early the
morning after the fire and climbed into the heap of blackened rubble that had
killed their parents and sat in the space that used to be her bedroom and
cried. It had still smelled like smoke, even after the fire department had
doused it with thousands of gallons of water. She’d never told anyone about it.
The fire had ruined her relationship with Chase, who was sure a lit candle in
Jess’s room had caused the blaze that burned their parents alive. Even the
reassurance from Fire Chief Andrews, who told them they’d found faulty wiring
in the furnace, didn’t change his mind.

They
had all lived together with their Aunt Bonnie in Boston for only two years.
Chase had gone to college after that and Jess and her brother hadn’t spoken
while he was away, Chase was furious at Jess for the damage he thought she did
to their family. Nothing had been able to change his mind, not until Abby, his
daughter, had been born. Rachel, their much younger sister had stayed with
Bonnie when Jess went to college. She never went back.

And
now Chase's most important possession, his daughter, was missing because Jess
hadn’t been able to keep track of her.

Jess
gripped the wheel a little harder. It had only been a few minutes since her
last attempt at contacting Chase, but she tried to call again, passing a
semi-truck on the freeway going breakneck speed. “Chase, pick up,” she yelled.
He didn’t.

As
Jess passed the outskirts of Catalina, she tried to relax, staring out the side
window for a moment. Catalina was what most people would expect to find on the
outskirts of any semi-major city. A few grocery stores, two movie houses, a few
parks, and lots of restaurants with homes dotted in developments up and down
the flat areas of the desert and peppered along the dry mountainsides.

            Jess refocused on the road and racked her brain, trying
to figure out where Chase might be and why he wasn’t answering her calls. He
knew she was with Abby. Wouldn’t all of her calls alert him that something was
amiss?

When
Jess had picked up Abby that morning, Chase hadn’t come out to the car. Neither
had Piper. Abby just skipped out the front door as if she’d been watching for
Abby by the front window. The only information she had from Chase was a text
saying to make sure she dropped off Abby by three o’clock. They had dinner
plans as a family that night. Piper wanted Abby home to make sure she had time
to get ready to go. Knowing Piper, it was probably one of her fancy friends and
their kids going out to some pricey restaurant where they served tiny amounts
of food on bleached white porcelain plates. Not that there were a lot of those
in the Tucson area. It was far more common to find a burger joint or barbecue
place. Piper stuck out like a sore thumb.

Frustrated,
Jess tossed her cell phone back on the passenger seat. Chase wasn’t picking up.
That meant one of two things — he was either at home, outside where he couldn’t
hear it ring, or he was at work in the middle of a project. Jess knew she had a
fifty-fifty shot of figuring out where he was. Still on the freeway, just past
the exit where she’d get off to go to Chase’s house, she kept traveling north,
towards the campus at Trident Labs. Jess only hoped that her guess was right,
before it was too late.

Chapter 3

            “What kind of execution was that?” Landon Walker said,
pulling the mask off his face and tossing it on the floor of the van as it
rumbled onto highway seventy-seven, going south out of the city. “We trained
for this. We train for this kind of mission all the time. You guys are getting
sloppy. I won’t have it.”

            With the surge of anger draining out of him, Landon
looked down at his watch. They were three and a half minutes off schedule. That
three and a half minutes could have gotten them caught. He felt the bile rise
in the back of his throat again. He had chosen Alvarez, Baker, and Reinhardt
because they were his best guys. Staring out the front window of the van, he
wondered if maybe they weren’t anymore.

            Landon’s phone pinged. It was his boss, Harrison Foster,
the man that founded Zeta Tactical Consulting. Foster was not a man to be
trifled with. A former Army Ranger, Foster had a sixth sense about him for
people who were lying. Landon and Foster had met on a mission in Afghanistan,
where Landon had watched Foster cut a man’s neck from ear to ear without so
much as blinking an eye. Foster was brutal and precise. “On the road?”

            Landon texted back, “Yes.”

            “You are behind schedule.”

            Landon bit his lip. Foster insisted they use the highest
level of technology available, including a GPS system with pinpoint precision.
There was no point in arguing. Foster knew the truth and he was right, “Yes,
but we’ve got the daughter.”

            Landon waited for a moment, waiting for Foster’s
response. None came. He was sure that Foster would have words with him about
the delay in their exit during their after-action briefing, but that wouldn’t
come for a few days. Landon slid his phone into the side pocket on the pants of
his uniform and glanced in the back. Alvarez had secured the package in the
van. For some reason, Abby Montgomery, was different than he imagined, more
mature for a twelve-year-old kid. Not that they had planned for her. Landon
smiled. Foster would be happy they got Abby instead of Jess. Maybe Foster would
forgive him the extra exit time with the upgrade in the subject they acquired.

When
Foster gave them the mission a few weeks before and explained the target was
the Montgomery family, Landon had something else in mind. When he’d read about
Abby, Landon had in his mind someone small and frail. Abby was not that. In
fact, she’d kicked at them so hard when they took her out of the bank that
Landon was sure at least a couple of his guys would have bruises on their
shins.

            At the moment, the young girl sat quietly. Landon watched
as Alvarez leaned over and adjusted the hood on her head. As he did, Landon saw
Abby flinch. When they’d gotten her to the van and started moving. Alvarez had
cable-tied her wrists together and then momentarily removed her hood, stuffing
foam earplugs in her ears so any conversations they had in the van couldn’t be
overheard. Now, the young girl sat, blind, deaf, and mute with the tape still
over her mouth from the robbery. Landon wanted to feel bad for her, bad about
the years of therapy she’d likely need if she made it out of the situation
alive, but he couldn’t quite work up any empathy for her. After all, she was a
casualty of war, like so many others he’d seen in his career. He was doing a
job. That was all.

            “How far out are we?” Landon said, glancing at Reinhardt,
who was driving the van.

            “Eighteen minutes.”

            “Roger that. Let’s see if we can make up some of that
time we lost on the extraction.”

            Reinhardt nodded but didn’t say anything. Landon felt the
van press forward a little faster on the highway.

            Leaning back in his seat, Landon thought through the
morning, the adrenaline in his system finally starting to settle down. Not that
he had much of a problem with an adrenaline surge. None of his men did. Zeta
Tactical Consulting didn’t hire operators that had issues with staying calm.
That could jeopardize a mission faster than nearly anything else. But Landon
had noticed that there was a certain window of time as he finished a mission
when his edginess needed to dull a little bit. That was a good thing. If Landon
tried to stay razor-sharp all the time, he’d burn out. He didn’t want to do
that. Harrison Foster had big plans for Landon and his team, plans that made
him excited about the future and his opportunities with Zeta. The abduction
this morning was just phase one, if the rest of the mission was successful.

            Landon wiped sweaty palms on his pants and ran through
the next steps of what would happen once they got to the warehouse. The fourth
man on their team, Baker, would exit the white bakery van they were driving, go
into the warehouse and raise the garage door within twenty-two seconds of them
arriving. The entire area where the warehouse was had been scrubbed of
surveillance. One of Harrison Foster's countersurveillance teams had gone in
the week before and installed signal jammers and video repeaters on the
buildings nearby. If one of the companies nearby had an active security team,
they would simply be looking at either static or the same scene over and over
again for the rest of the day. Landon knew the plan was to turn it on thirty
minutes ago, ensuring that no trace of the white van would be seen on any
recording device, unless it was something like a cell phone, but the warehouse
district they were in near Mesa Springs, didn’t have many workers there on a
Saturday. If all went according to plan, Landon and his team would be leaving
the site in just a few short hours, their mission accomplished.

            The thump of the van's tires over railroad tracks caught
Landon’s attention. His body swayed in the seat as they passed over them. They
were close. Landon glanced out the windshield and saw a billboard advertising
jobs in manufacturing. It was weathered by the sun and hadn’t been replaced. He
wondered if the advertising company had forgotten about it or just didn’t have
anyone who wanted ad space in a practically abandoned business district. From
the mission plan, he knew the warehouse was approximately one minute from the
railroad tracks. Just a little bit longer and they’d be at their new home base,
at least as much of a home as it could be for the moment. Landon looked in the
back of the van and nodded at Baker, who edged to the back, his hand on the van's
door, ready to jump out. “Ready?” Landon said. Baker gave a short nod.

            As the van got close to the warehouse, the corrugated
brown steel door came into view. Harrison had helped Landon pick the safe house
himself. It wasn’t something that Harrison normally did, giving his senior
operators the latitude to do as they saw fit. But in this case, the mission was
so critical that Harrison had been involved in nearly every aspect of the
planning — from the timing to the preplanning, to the execution itself. Landon
knew Harrison was watching with great attention to how the day went down. In
any other situation, Landon might be aggravated, but in this case, with a
promotion on the horizon, he relished the opportunity to prove himself. He set
his jaw, ready for the next phase.

            Reinhardt slowed the van as they got close to the
warehouse door. It had barely paused when Baker pushed the door open and
slammed it closed behind him. From the side of the van, Landon saw Baker’s
stocky frame sprint at the side door, tap in a six-digit code on the keypad,
and disappear inside. Three seconds later, the metal garage door started to
lift off the ground. Ten seconds later, the van was inside, bathed in the
darkness of the abandoned warehouse, the door clattering to a close behind
them.

            Landon got out of the van and nodded at Baker, “Good
hustle. Keep it up.”

            At times, Landon felt like he was somewhere between a
football coach and a field general, vacillating between the two roles,
encouraging his men and then facing the brutality of war as regularly as people
ate their breakfast cereal.

            “Let’s get her out and secured in the cage,” Landon said
as Alvarez slid out of the back of the van, the butt of his rifle banging
against the metal doors. “Reinhardt, give him a hand.” As Landon walked to the
front of the van, hearing the garage door clatter closed behind him, he looked
at Baker, “Let’s get the systems booted up, okay?”

            The men fanned out of the van, their boots moving almost
silently on the rough concrete floors of the warehouse. Landon stood for a
second, staring out. It was the first time he’d been in the warehouse in
person. Foster had insisted they run drills at another offsite location to
limit their exposure to prying eyes. Landon glanced left and right, realizing
the setup was identical to the one they’d practiced on. It was no surprise.
Foster was precise that way. He knew, as all the operators did, that any variation
from the original mission plan could cause issues. Life and death issues.
Landon walked over to the hood of the van, ripping the Velcro apart on the
sides of his tactical vest. At the time they planned the bank robbery, Baker
argued they didn’t need to wear the heavy, Kevlar-plated gear, but Foster had
insisted. “This is a mission like any other,” he said. “It’s my responsibility
to make sure you’re able to complete it. Wearing the gear is part of the job.”
There was no more discussion after that.

            The heavy vest off of his shoulders for the moment,
Landon walked over to the makeshift operations bay Foster’s team had managed to
smuggle into the warehouse when they did the setup. How they got the equipment
into the warehouse, Landon didn’t know. All he knew was that when they ran the
operation, what they needed would be there for them, everything from technology
to snacks to toilet paper. As he slung his gear onto one of the desks that held
computers and monitors to help them with on-site surveillance and
communications with Foster and the base team, Landon looked over his shoulder
just in time to see Reinhardt and Alvarez walking Abby to the cage, their hands
gripping her elbows, one on either side of her small frame, her hood still
covering her face. She stumbled for a moment, but they didn’t let her fall.
Landon didn’t walk towards her. He didn’t need to. His men would handle it with
the professionalism that was expected by their boss. Even though what was
happening to Abby was horrific, and they all knew it, there was no reason to
make it worse than it was.

            A spotlight hung over the metal cage that had been
erected just inside the garage door. A small bench had been bolted to the floor
where Abby could sit if she wanted to. Landon heard the jingle of the gate open
and watched the men as they half carried and half dragged her inside. The girl
had to be scared to death, Landon thought. Alvarez tugged the hood off of her
face and pulled the earplugs out of her ears. Landon could see her blinking in
the bright light. From across the warehouse, Landon heard Alvarez say, “Now,
we’ve taken the hood off. If you can stay quiet, I’ll cut the cable ties off
your wrists and we can take the tape off. Sound good?”

            With wide brown eyes, Abby nodded. Alvarez drew a K-bar
knife out of his belt and cut the cable ties from Abby’s wrists. “You can take
the tape off now.” Alvarez said, nodding at her. “We will put the restraints
back in place if you don’t cooperate. Is that clear?” The young girl nodded and
backed away from the man, sitting down on the bench.

            Now that Abby was secure, Landon refocused on the work
Baker was doing. All of the computer screens — there were five in total — were
lit up, running through their boot-up procedures. Foster had promised the
systems would be top-of-the-line so it wouldn’t take any time at all to get
hooked up to the secure satellite link at Zeta headquarters. The systems were
as good as Foster promised. Within thirty seconds, all of the screens had
settled in, their connections flashing green in the corner of the screen. Landon
and his team could speak directly with Foster at any time and for any reason.

            Baker, who was leaning over the last of the systems,
stood up and looked at Landon, “We’re all set up. Now what?”

            “We wait a little bit and then make contact.”