Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

Special Agent Nicole Adams seemed to accept his logic.

“Large search area,” she commented, her own finger starting to trace the various shaded regions on the map.

“Yeah, and being a rural sheriff’s department, we’re not exactly rolling in manpower, so I called in some backup.”

“Backup?” Hawkes spoke up. He had an accent. Maine maybe? Wyatt was still trying to peg him.

“US Forest Service, as well as Fish and Game. You know Marty Finch, the forest service investigator?”

Both agents nodded. While Finch worked out of Vermont, the federal agent’s territory also included New Hampshire and Maine. Given that US Forest Service lands were becoming a haven for drug operations, Wyatt had worked with Finch on a number of cases. He figured the same should be true for FBI agents out of Concord.

“I gave him a ring,” Wyatt continued now. “Gotta figure the largest chunk of real estate we’re facing is the seven hundred and fifty thousand acres of the White Mountain National Forest—Finch’s jurisdiction. At my request, he’s mobilizing the forest rangers, sending them to search parking lots at the various trailheads and campgrounds for a possible transport vehicle—I’m thinking a van based on the tire marks and need to hold at least seven. The rangers will also check out hiking huts, various rest stops. If you want to keep a low profile, hiding out in the various state parks or national wilderness areas would do it.”

“Do the rangers have enough experience to know what they’re looking for?” Nicole asked crisply.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Please. In New Hampshire, we all attend the same training academy. Sheriff, state, local, Fish and Game, we all go in, we all come out. Meaning that clearly, we’re all brilliant.”

Nicole raised a brow but didn’t say anything. It went without saying that her precious FBI Academy remained a step above. Wyatt didn’t feel like pressing the point.

“What about the tolls?” Nicole spoke up. “Have you requested video footage? If your assumption about the kidnappers taking Interstate ninety-five to sixteen is correct, then they’ve passed through four major tollbooths.”

Wyatt shrugged. “Have a detective making the request. Can tell you now, given all the privacy concerns, actually obtaining that footage will be a royal pain in the ass.”

“Not like you to back down from a fight.”

“Consider it more like a strategic use of resources. I have two detectives and four deputies. There’s only so many investigative avenues we can effectively pursue. And given the urgency of the situation, I want to deploy my people smart. In my book, that means searching all local, state and federal recreation areas and campgrounds. Now, your turn to share.”

Nicole didn’t volunteer right away, so Hawkes did the honors.

“Boston PD ran a preliminary trace of the Taser confetti, identified a dealer out of Chicago. The serial number ties back to a batch of fifty he sold to another dealer for a gun show in New Jersey. That dealer says all fifty were sold at the show. If the individual buyers didn’t register their Tasers, that’s not his problem.”

“What kind of gun show?”

“Open to the public, with attendance from the survivalist and ex-military crowd.”

“We think the kidnappers are professionals,” Nicole stated curtly.

That got Wyatt’s attention. “How so?”

“They accessed a house armed with a top-of-the-line security system, and managed to overcome two grown adults and one teenager without ever alerting the neighbors. Furthermore, Justin Denbe is experienced in firearms and by all accounts, a man capable of defending himself and his family. As it is, there’s evidence the teenager put up a decent fight. The suspects, however, were still able to overpower her and ambush her parents without ever spilling a drop of blood. It takes discipline to pull off that kind of controlled operation. Not to mention training and resources.”

“Ransom?” Wyatt asked with a frown.

“Not yet.”

“But you assume demands are coming?”

“As of this time, we have no other theories on motive.”

Wyatt got that. Especially if the situation involved professionals, who by definition were interested in payment. “Family has the ability to pay?”

“The family firm, Denbe Construction, is running the show. And, yes, the officers of the company have been in touch with local law enforcement and are willing to release whatever funds are necessary.”

“Except significant funds can’t be released before Monday.”

“True.”

“Meaning if these guys planned ahead, by definition they knew they’d have to hide a family of three for at least several days.”

“In our minds, further evidence that the suspects are professionals. This isn’t a rush operation. They obviously put thought and planning into the abduction scenario. Odds are, they put equal thought into the best place to secure their hostages for the long haul. When they feel ready, we’ll hear from them. But not before, I think. Even now, they are establishing a hierarchy of control, one where they give the orders, and we do exactly as they command.”

Wyatt didn’t like the sound of that. He returned to his map, considering the logistics behind such an operation. “They’re here,” he said, tapping the White Mountain National Forest. “It’s logistically perfect. Far enough away from Boston to keep out of sight, but not so far away they can’t return to accept payment. Rural, but not too rural. Wild, but not too wild. This is our haystack. Now, we just gotta find the needle.”

“All right. You work the haystack. We’re heading to Boston to conduct initial interviews. Justin Denbe owns a second-generation mega-construction firm. By all accounts, he made big money but also big enemies. We’ll prepare the list.”

Wyatt got the message clearly enough—the feds were running the investigation, though he was welcome to play in the woods. He simply decided to ignore it.

“Great,” he declared. “One of my detectives and I will meet you in Boston to assist with the interviews. Give us thirty minutes or so, and we’ll be on our way.”

Nicole rewarded him with an icy look.

He smiled back, already reaching for his hat. “And here I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 15

IN TESSA’S EXPERIENCE, if you wanted to know what was really going on in a woman’s life, you had to track down her prime confidant. And in at least 80 percent of the cases, that included the woman’s hairdresser. A single check of Libby Denbe’s favorites list from her phone had revealed the Farias & Rocha salon in Beacon Hill. Tessa had showed up in person, flashing her credentials. Which had earned her an introduction with James Farias, one of the single most beautiful-looking men she’d ever encountered. Frosted blond hair, strong jaw covered in artful stubble, piercing blue eyes and the kind of sculpted shoulders and arms rarely seen outside Hollywood.

Unfortunately for her, she had a feeling she was packing the wrong equipment to garner James’s attention. Yet another reason Sophie would remain an only child.

Also, James had taken one look at her and exclaimed that the real crime she should be investigating was the one that had been committed against her hair. Didn’t she realize that shade of brown—her real color, sadly—was too dull, totally washing out her complexion? Not to mention pulling her long hair back into a single hair clip was much too severe for her face. She needed softness, she needed warmth, she needed an immediate hair intervention. That was it, she must return for his next available appointment. Which turned out to be in six months.

Tessa dutifully made the appointment. In return, Farias agreed to answer her questions regarding Libby Denbe.