James Swain - The Program

“You’re sure this is right?”

“Yes, Wayne. I’m sure.”

He looked up at Vick. Her hand still rested on his shoulder. He took that as a sign that she cared about him as deeply as he cared about her.

“I want something in return,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“I want to see you again.”

Vick lowered her hand. He thought she might storm out, and that he’d never see her again. He didn’t think he could deal with that.

“Just to talk,” he said. “You know, over a soda or something.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wayne.”

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t.”

“But I care about you.”

“I know you do. You saved my life. I’m never going to forget that.”

“Then why can’t we see each other?”

Vick started to reply, then thought better of it, and walked out of the office. Wayne followed her out of the barn and into the parking lot.

“You leaving?” he asked.

Still nothing. He opened the driver’s door of the Audi for her. Climbing in, she stuck the key in the ignition, the engine hardly making a sound when it came on.

He knelt down next to her window and stared through the tinted glass. Please don’t leave without saying goodbye , he thought.

The window lowered, their faces a few feet apart.

“I’ll do what you asked,” he said.

“Thank you,” Vick said.

“Why won’t you see me again?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Come on, say something,” he said.

“You’re ten years too late,” she said.

Wayne wasn’t sure he understood what Vick meant. He watched her car until it disappeared, then went back to grooming the horses.

Vick drove to the FBI’s office in North Miami, and spent the rest of the morning at her computer responding to several hundred emails.

She hoped she hadn’t hurt Wayne, or broken his heart. Despite what had happened to him, he was still a boy, and still innocent to much of the world. She hoped he stayed that way for a long time, and that these dark days were behind him.

At noon, she got an email from Linderman, inviting her to lunch. She knew what that meant – sandwiches at his desk, pouring over a case. They had not had a meaningful conversation since she’d taken down Mr. Clean, and she accepted his offer.

A half-hour later she was in her boss’s office, eating an inch- thick corned beef sandwich from the Jewish deli that delivered to the building. Linderman ate a Reuben dripping with thousand island dressing with his necktie flipped over his shoulder.

“There’s a memorial service for Roger DuCharme tomorrow,” Vick said. “I was planning to go. Care to join me?”

“I’m leaving town,” he said. “I’m taking a couple of weeks off to look for Danni.”

Vick put down her sandwich. The look on her boss’s face was troubled, his eyes without their usual hard focus. Like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of his sails, and it hadn’t come back. The invitation took on a different meaning. He needed to talk. She waited until they were both finished eating before speaking.

“Do you have a new lead?” Vick asked.

“Yes. It came from Crutch. I don’t know if it will amount to anything, but I have to run it down.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Crutch said that Simon Skell had abducted Danni at the University of Miami six years ago. Skell was going to kill Danni, only my daughter established a bond by baking cakes and cookies for Skell. It was something that I could see Danni doing.

“Crutch said that Skell sold my daughter to a man in Florida soon after this. The man purchased Danni to cook for him, and to be a sex slave. Crutch said that Danni understood the arrangement, and had agreed to it. It was the kind of detail that made me think Crutch was telling the truth.”

He spoke with the same flat tone that he used when working on a case, only the pain in his face spoke otherwise. He was hurting deeply inside.

“Have you run a profile through NCIC?” Vick asked.

“Yes. Unfortunately, nothing popped up. But that doesn’t mean this person hasn’t committed a crime in Florida. Many police departments in the state don’t have funding to send their records to NCIC. I’m going to do a road trip and visit police departments around the state, and manually search their data bases.”

“That could take forever.”

Linderman did not reply. He had traipsed through abandoned fields, dug through landfills, and navigated alligator-infested swamps in the hopes of finding some trace of Danni. This was one more journey on that road.

“May I make a suggestion?” Vick said.

“Of course.”

“I think you should take another tact, and scrap this idea for now.”

Linderman clenched his jaw, his fingers drumming the desk.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“Put yourself in Danni’s shoes,” Vick said. “Only one thing is going through her mind during this ordeal. How am I going to escape? That’s all she’s thinking about. It’s what gives her hope, and keeps her going.”

“Is that what you thought about when Mr. Clean held you captive?”

“Yes. Every waking minute.”

Linderman gazed out the window at the neighboring office buildings, his face taking on a faraway expression. It was an angle that he hadn’t considered.

“What else is Danni thinking?” he asked.

“Your daughter may have tried to reach out to you,” Vick replied. “Most people who are held captive do. They try to make phone calls, or get messages out in some way.”

“Like Wayne did at the fast-food restaurant.”

“Exactly.”

“Where would you suggest I start?”

“You said that Danni established a bond with Skell by cooking cakes and cookies for him. Start there.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“I’m guessing your wife taught your daughter how to bake. Lots of homemade recipes.”

“Good deduction. Muriel is a master baker.”

“Ask your wife if there are any special ingredients that she uses in her cakes and cookies, or any special cooking instruments. More than likely, your daughter is having her captor purchase these things for her cooking. Those purchases might lead you to her.”

Linderman squinted his eyes as if seeing something for the first time. Vick glanced out the window, then looked back at him.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Granny’s special holiday cookies,” he said. “It’s a secret family recipe. Muriel’s mother passed the recipe on to Muriel, who in turn passed it on to Danni. The cookies are made with dark chocolate and caramel, and are out of this world delicious. Danni would have used those to get on Simon Skell’s good side.”

“And her present captor as well.”

“I think so. A gastronome would crave those cookies.”

“Are there any special ingredients that you remember?”

“Yes. A square of toffee is placed atop each cookie. The recipe called for Tom’s Toffee, which is handmade by a family-owned confectionary store in Maine. When Danni was a little girl, she used to go out to the mail box each day when she thought our shipment was coming in.”

“Is the company is still in business?”

“They were as of last Christmas. Muriel baked the cookies for a party. I saw the bag on the kitchen counter, and remembered how Danni used to pine for it.”

“Call them, and see how many shipments they’re sending to Florida,” Vick said. “Your daughter’s captor may be one of their customers.”

The fire in her boss’s eyes was intense. He rose from his chair and came around the desk. Vick rose from her chair as well, and met him halfway. He hugged her so fiercely that she thought he might break her ribs.