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He started to speak and then abruptly halted as wariness interceded. He stared at Aidan, his long, hard assessment a clear indication that he was waging an internal battle over whether or not he should trust a total stranger, compelling or not.
Aidan remained silent, keeping his own gaze steady as he waited for Vance to reach the inevitable conclusion that trusting Aidan was his only choice.
Sure enough, Vance gave a hard swallow and an almost imperceptible nod.
“My wife . . . I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but my wife has been concerned,” he said at last. “Lauren’s phone calls have stopped. So have her texts, other than a once-a-day, same-time-every-day check-in.” Vance shifted from one foot to the other. “In her last text, she told us that she was having a problem with the reception where she was. Also, that her cell phone was fading in and out. She was taking it in to be checked out, so we shouldn’t worry if she was out of touch for a day. She said she’d call soon.”
“Did her tone sound different?”
“You’re saying you don’t think she’s the one who sent those texts.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Aidan went on without so much as a blink. “I’ve given you more than enough data to convince you of what’s happening. Do you want to bring me into the loop so we can help you and Lauren? Otherwise, I can promise that you won’t be seeing her again—at least not alive.”
Vince winced at Aidan’s words. “I can’t divulge company secrets,” he replied on autopilot. “There has to be another way. We’ll call the police. The FBI. The damned White House if we have to.”
“And tell them what? There’s no tangible proof. And there won’t be until we’re out of time and Lauren is dead.”
Vance rubbed his hand over his jaw. He was clearly waffling. Aidan rose. “I’m leaving town in a few hours. What’s your decision?”
Before Vance could reply, his red phone vibrated.
Aidan’s gaze shifted and he gestured at the phone. “Go ahead. See what that is.”
Reluctantly, Vance looked down and took his phone out of sleep mode. He was greeted by five successive bings.
“Texts,” he murmured.
Each of the five texts appeared in a balloon message on his phone, all of them in rapid succession.
“Oh my God,” Vance whispered, sinking back down into his chair.
Aidan came around and read the texts over Vance’s shoulder.
You have: Seven days to comply.
You will: turn over all the details of your manufacturing technology.
You won’t: contact the police, the FBI, or make any changes in your routine.
You should: Wait for our instructions.
You must: do everything we ask or your daughter will be dead in a week.
4
Seven days left…
Silence permeated Vance’s office as he stared down at the texts, rereading them one at a time. At the bottom of the last message was a photo of Lauren, unconscious, stretched out on her back in what looked to be the rear compartment of a van, her face angled in such a way that there was no mistaking her identity.
With a hard swallow, Vance’s fingers traced his daughter’s face. “They really do have her,” he said in a strained, hoarse voice. Abruptly, he twisted around to look up at Aidan, his expression g
uarded. “You said you’re part of a well-connected group that resolves crises, but you’ve shown me no tangible proof that your group even exists—or that you’re not in on this somehow yourself! How do I know I can trust you?” His hand tightened around the phone. “I should call the FBI right now.”
“But you won’t,” Aidan replied quietly, returning to his chair. “Because, based on the information I gave you and your own gut instincts, you know I’m telling you the truth. Just as you know that one wrong phone call could incite a pack of criminals to kill Lauren.” He leaned forward, elbows propped on the desk, fixing his hard gaze on Vance’s rattled one. “I understand your ambivalence. But you’re a former Marine. So am I. Integrity is part of who we are. That should go a long way in eliminating your doubts.”
A heartbeat of a pause. Then Vance set down his phone. “It does.”
“Good. Now until we understand exactly who and what we’re dealing with, any blatant disregard for the kidnappers’ orders would be playing Russian roulette with Lauren’s life.”
