Rick Mofina - In Desperation

Since the moment when she’d last checked on her daughter .

Cora took a deep breath as her eyes went around the room. The room where she’d tucked Tilly in, the room where she’d listened to her dreams, chased away her fears and promised to keep her safe.

Now, seeing the evidence people in there with their protective clothing and latex gloves-people who worked in the aftermath of evil touching Tilly’s most private things-felt like a violation. Yet it was eclipsed by the greater desecration committed by the monsters who’d stolen her child.

Where was Tilly? Time was slipping by.

Panic rose in Cora’s stomach and was stifled by a dog’s yelp.

Through the bedroom window she glimpsed the K-9 unit sniffing in her yard for evidence. Down the street she saw other detectives canvassing the neighborhood, interviewing people. Cora dreaded the fact that soon everyone would know what had happened. Her attention was pulled back to the living room, where Hackett was huddled with agents and detectives. Not far under the surface of the investigation, his suspicions toward her bubbled beneath his cold, insistent frown.

“Are you telling us everything we need to know?”

She had nothing to do with Tilly’s abduction and nothing to do with drugs. Cora and Tilly lived a good life. Still, Hackett’s mistrust tore at her, made her feel guilty for not knowing Lyle, for every sin of her past.

Like the secret she’d kept buried for so many years.

Did one single act, all those years back, deliver Tilly into the hands of a drug cartel now? No, it can’t be. It’s just not possible. It was so long ago. That was another life. No one must know about what I did. I have to protect Tilly.

“Excuse me.” One of the agents had follow-up questions. “Could you tell us what she was wearing when she was taken? It’s for the alert.”

After Cora described Tilly’s pajamas, and the sneakers, shirt and jeans Tilly had been carrying, the agent asked for a recent photo. She found one of Tilly taken at a friend’s birthday party.

“This was last weekend.”

There was Tilly with other eleven-and twelve-year-olds at the mall, laughing in the food court, eyes bright with innocence, on the cusp of adolescence, her whole life ahead of her.

Would she ever hold her again?

Cora then saw forensic people bagging Tilly’s old toothbrush and comb. “For DNA analysis,” someone said. She watched them process Tilly’s computer mouse for fingerprints.

Hackett approached her.

“Cora,” he said. “Were you aware of the seriousness of Quick Draw’s financial trouble?”

“Like I said, we had to cut some staff and watch costs. Lyle told me we had faced rough times but that he’d taken care of it.”

“Did you know where his influx of cash came from?”

“No, he did the books. He never showed me the company’s finances. I ran the office. He ran the company.”

Hackett took a moment to assess her answer.

“All right, in a few hours we’re going to hold a press conference and make a public appeal for Tilly and for Lyle.”

“What?” Cora said. “No! The kidnappers said they would kill her. God knows what they’ll do to Tilly when they learn I’ve gone to the police.”

“Your daughter’s life was in danger the second they stole her,” Hackett said. “We can’t deal with these people. Right now secrecy is their best weapon.”

“But we can’t have a press conference. There has to be another way!”

“There isn’t. At this time, we have no leads on your daughter’s location or safety. We have no leads on Lyle’s whereabouts. We have no leads on the suspects, or the gang involved. We have no choice, none.”

Hackett shot a glance toward Gannon.

“It could be the only way to get Tilly home,” Gannon said.

“Earl,” Larson said from down the hall. “Call from EPIC.”

Gannon’s ears pricked up. He knew EPIC was short for the El Paso Intelligence Center, the multi-agency operation at the U.S.-Mexico border that coordinated information on Mexican cartels and human smugglers.

Gannon had an idea and took it to a quiet corner of the house. Up to now, he’d been useless in the search for his niece. Using his cell phone, he called Isabel Luna in Mexico. “Isabel Luna, El Heraldo .”

“It’s Jack Gannon.” He lowered his voice. “I’m in Arizona and I need your help but this is confidential. You can’t report any of this yet.”

“Of course, Jack, we are working together.”

“An eleven-year-old girl has been kidnapped from her home in Phoenix, Arizona, by narcos. They claim a Phoenix businessman who runs a courier company stole five million dollars from them and vanished. He has five days to surface and return the money.”

“Has any of this been reported?”

“Not a word yet, but you must keep this all confidential.”

“Why the secrecy?”

“The girl is my niece.”

“Your niece? Do you know who took her?”

“No, my sister works for the man the kidnappers are trying to pressure.”

“What can I do to help you, Jack?”

“I need you to find out who might be responsible. Can you check with your sources in Juarez, see what you can dig up confidentially?”

“I will at once.”

Gannon ended the call and exhaled just as his phone rang.

“Jack, Melody in New York. Where are you and what do you have?”

“I’m in Phoenix and we have a story.”

“What is it?”

“An eleven-year-old girl has been kidnapped from her Phoenix home, likely tied to the theft of five million dollars from a cartel.”

“I’ll put it on the next news budget. You write us a first hit. We’ll need it in about thirty minutes.”

“No. We can’t write anything yet.”

“What?”

“Alert our Phoenix bureau to expect a news conference with the FBI late in the day.”

“News conference? Isn’t this our exclusive?”

“No, it’s complicated.”

“We need exclusives, Jack.”

“I know and this could lead to one. You have to trust me.”

“What’s going on?”

Since he’d already told Isabel Luna, Gannon surrendered his information to the editor he trusted most.

“The girl who’s been kidnapped is the daughter of my estranged sister, Cora-my niece. I’m sorry, but it’s complicated. I’ll explain later.”

“Good Lord. Is she okay?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Thanks, I’ll let you know. Just trust me on this for now, please. I really have to go. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Gannon scanned the house and saw Cora on the edge of a chair, being offered water and comfort by paramedics. They’d been monitoring her vital signs from the get-go.

Watching her now, he battled his emotions.

Am I scum? His sister had called him for help. Was he being a brother and an uncle, or was he being a reporter? Why did he feel a greater obligation to his job than to Cora? Because it didn’t feel like she was his sister. At times he felt that she was a stranger. Then there were warm flashes, when he’d recognized the same gentle spirit who’d guided him when he was a boy.

His big sister, Cora.

And he wondered what their lives would’ve been like had she not run off and devastated their family. But dwelling on it made him angry. His thoughts shifted when Cora indicated that she wanted to talk to him alone.

The paramedics gave them privacy.

Cora gripped his arm.

Since this had happened, she hadn’t slept or eaten. Her eyes were reddened from tears. She pulled him closer. Her lower lip started trembling.

“Am I being punished, Jack.”