“What do you mean she was kidnapped again?” I bellow into the phone. My head immediately starts pulsing in pain. What the heck is happening in Arcadia Hills? “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” I yell at the officer unlucky enough to inform me of the kidnapping. Reaching into the closet, I swiftly grab an overnight bag, my gun, and badge before running to my car.
As soon as I turn the key in the ignition, I flick the lights on and slam down on the gas as I sail toward the fucking town failing my charge.
While I was getting my stuff, they’d called back, leaving the update in a voicemail. They received word about twenty minutes ago that Charlotte was missing again. Apparently she wasn’t outside when her foster mom went to pick her up from school. Word from the boyfriend is that the guidance counselor called her into the office late in the day. The office staff reported her leaving the office about fifteen minutes after the bell rang. They found her abandoned backpack in front of the school but no trace of her. I growl in frustration and punch my steering wheel for good measure. I promised the kid I would solve this and yet here I am, in the dark again and her life in danger.
My lights flash and people pull out of my way as I fly down the highway, fuming the entire way to the Arcadia Hills police department. By some fucking miracle I calm down enough to give the agents an update, telling them she was kidnapped again and relieved to hear they are as pissed off as I am. Hopefully they will beat me there and we can get her back unharmed.
If the same people who murdered her family have her, they aren’t likely to let her live for long. We have to be quick and the clock has already been ticking. That thought alone has me in a panic. This kid dealt with enough and has come too
far for it to end like this. She deserves better.
My ringtone fills the air and I snatch up my phone only to notice it's Sophia, Charlotte’s foster mom.
“Flynn.” It's all I can get out before she starts hysterically yelling into the phone.
“She’s been kidnapped, Flynn. I just received a text from her. I guess they didn’t find her phone on her. Tell me you guys can track her phone’s location! They can’t just have my girl, we have to get her back…” She sobs into the phone as she trails off.
“I promise I am going to put everything I’ve got into finding her. Get to the station and wait for the agents. They can help you better than the officers there. I’m almost there,” I explain, trying for a soothing voice, but it fails. Instead, I sound harsh, even to my own ears. I hang up without letting her get a word in and pick up my speed again.
As soon as I walk into the station, I'm greeted by the two agents I've been working with. Thank God they got here first, now we can dive right in.
“Flynn, I’ve got officers getting the school’s footage at the time of the kidnapping. The text she sent accused the counselor of being involved. The officers should have her in custody soon, so she will be here for questioning. I’ve got a tech expert on the way to work on tracking her cell phone. This station isn’t exactly equipped for a case of this magnitude, though.” He feeds me these updates as we power walk through the halls, not bothering with proper greetings.
How the hell did the guidance counselor get involved? This whole case is the biggest fucking mess I've ever seen.
“Where’s the girl’s mom?” I ask as we reach the conference room that the agents secured for our use. They have huge whiteboards and cork boards propped against the walls, already creating case notes for us to follow. It’s nice working with someone competent for a change.
“We have her talking to one of our people, trying to calm her down. The text Charlotte sent said that the van was a red work van with tinted windows. We have another officer scanning traffic cameras to see if they can find the direction they were going. There was an hour and a half difference between her leaving the office and sending the text. Agent Simms is pulling up a map, so we can see where that amount of time could place her. That text may save her life. Smart kid,” Agent Clark praises, pulling out his phone. Hopefully checking the progress of his team.
One of the officers pokes his head in the room. “Counselor is here, are you two interrogating?” I stand up at the same time Agent Clark does.
“Hell yes, we are,” I growl as I hurry to the interrogation room before they can leave me behind. Looking through the small window on the door, I note the older woman’s black eye and swollen nose. “What happened to her face?”
“She claims that she was attacked by the kidnappers while trying to save Charlotte.” His voice doesn’t hide his disbelief. They've all heard about the text too.
“You think they could have sent the text to throw us off?” I ask Clark. It's possible they would have known who Sophia is by the way they stalked Charlotte the first time they tried to take her.
Clark shrugs and opens the door. The counselor’s severe face doesn’t give the reassuring vibe you usually get from someone tasked with guiding our youth.
Before we can even ask, she begins recounting her tale, saying she walked out and saw men dragging Charlotte out toward the maintenance doors. When she tried to pull Charlotte away, they apparently punched her in the face and took off in the van. I don’t buy it for a second, her eyes dilating and her tone robotic, as if reciting a prompt.
If Charlotte sent that text, then I believe her. I worked with this kid for over three years now and I know she isn’t the lying type. Using her phone was risky, and she sent a concise text with the most important information. Yet another nod to her maturity. Nothing ages a kid like extreme trauma.
“Explain to me why we have word from Charlotte that you helped them kidnap her,” Clark says as he slams his hands on the table. The lady flinches, and I see a flicker of shock cross her face telling us all we need to know. She knows something.
“I don’t know why anyone would tell you that. Like I told the officers, there wasn’t anyone around to help us.” Her voice is sharper now, like we’d insulted her. Each moment of silence that passes has her fidgeting more and more in her chair. I guess we rattled her already. That’s always a good sign.
“We have word from Charlotte herself,” I correct her casually. She turns her gaze on me and chuckles.
“Impossible. I saw them pat her down before throwing her in the van. She would have no way to call anyone, and she doesn’t talk anyway.” Her voice is now bordering arrogant. She clearly thought her answers through, but they aren’t genuine and are far too well rehearsed. Not to mention a worried counselor trying to prove her innocence doesn’t fight with the police or FBI.
“Agents!” an officer barks out as he slams the door open. We hurry out and close the door behind us, his tone making it clear something new was happening. “Charlotte called Sophia. She’s in the conference room with Simms. Go!” He ushers us away and stands guard outside of the interrogation room.
When we reach the conference room, Sophia is sobbing and holding the phone out to Simms. I notice another agent nearby that's opening a laptop and pulling other small devices out.
“Flynn. Clark. This facility isn’t good, but that Charlotte is a smart kid. She’s got her phone silenced and hidden with the call still running. I’m trying to connect now.” The new agent is talking and working, which I respect. Right now we need action and no hesitation. It’s the only thing that can save her.
“She said they gave her a patient number, and they are testing on people. That means they will test on her, and we have to get there fast.” Sophia’s voice is shaky and hysterical. An officer comes in escorting the kid’s social worker. She immediately goes over to Sophia to comfort her.