‘I see. Do you have an address where we might reach her?’
‘I do.’ She recited it and Thorne noted it down. ‘Why are you looking for her?’
Thorne hesitated, visibly weighing his words. ‘We have reason to believe she might be in danger.’
‘Oh no.’ The woman’s voice wobbled again, this time with fear. ‘If you would, please let me know when you find her.’
‘We will. Thank you.’ Thorne hung up and sighed. ‘Who believes that was legit?’
Frederick shook his head. ‘She didn’t even ask why her daughter was in danger or where you were located or how you knew her. I’d want to know all of that if my daughter ran away.’
Surprisingly, Alec disagreed. ‘It was legit in that her voice is consistent with the one on the voicemail greeting. That number is the one in Montreal’s phone listing. It was also the one listed in the police report on Anne’s disappearance. The i’s are all dotted. If you want to double-check, call the number back and see who picks up. If it’s spoofed, it won’t be the same woman.’
‘Call from one of the burner phones,’ Clay said. ‘See if the same person picks up for a stranger.’
Thorne did so, and they were all a little surprised when the same woman answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Madame Poulin,’ Thorne said quickly. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you had some photographs of Anne.’
‘Only old snapshots from when she was small. They are packed away.’
‘I see. You don’t have anything recent?’
‘No,’ the woman said sadly. ‘Nothing. I wish I did.’
‘Well then, thank you for your time.’ Thorne ended the call and turned to the group. ‘This could be a legit lead,’ he allowed. ‘Maybe it feels wrong because everything else we’ve had to find out the hard way. This just dropped in our lap.’
‘It hardly dropped in your lap,’ Alec protested. ‘Finding that missing person report was damn difficult. You act like I just pulled it out of my ass.’
Thorne raised his hands, palms out. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just . . . skeptical.’
‘Then be skeptical,’ Alec grumbled. ‘But don’t call this easy.’
‘Sorry,’ Thorne apologized again. ‘Don’t worry, Alec. I know how lucky I am to have you.’
Alec nodded, still disgruntled. ‘Anne’s address is an apartment building. Appears to be a walkup.’
‘Then I’m out,’ Jamie said, disgusted. ‘Give the address to Joseph. Let him investigate it.’
Thorne looked doubtful. ‘I’ll have him meet me there. But I’m not giving this away. If it’s a real lead, I want to find Anne. I want to find out who she is to Tavilla.’
Alec’s mouth flattened. ‘That’s smart, especially since it seems your Fed has been holding back on you. A bunch of black suits are searching the judge’s house as we speak. Got themselves a warrant and everything.’
Thorne’s mouth opened. ‘How do you know that?’
‘It’s on the police scanner and now the news. Reporters are gathered in front of Segal’s house. Nobody was home, so they broke the door in. They’re carting out computers and boxes of files. One of the reporters says the judge has a recent history of odd rulings, which Paige told us a few days ago. I was looking into it when Clay told me Ms Poulin was calling.’
‘Fucking hell,’ Thorne muttered. ‘I trusted Joseph.’
‘You still can,’ Clay insisted. ‘He has a Fed agenda, but he’ll do the right thing. I trusted him with my family, Thorne.’
‘You’re right. I know it.’ Thorne rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m edgy.’
‘You have a right to be,’ Clay said kindly. ‘We all do. Take a breath and think this through.’
‘Maybe Joseph just hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet,’ Frederick said.
‘He was driving the car with Taylor when you talked to her,’ Thorne said, unconvinced. ‘He could have told us then.’
Clay’s sigh was exasperated. ‘Maybe he’s busy. Let’s call him with Anne Poulin’s address and have him meet us there.’
Thorne made the call then huffed a frustrated breath and hung up. ‘Went straight to voicemail. He must be on his phone. I’ll text him to call me. I don’t want to leave this information on voicemail. I want to be sure he’s heard me. Who’s with me?’
Frederick and Clay said, ‘Me,’ at the same time.
‘And me.’ Gwyn followed them to the door.
Thorne stood in her way, blocking her path. ‘No.’
She looked up at him stubbornly. ‘Yes. The closer I stick to you, the safer I am. If I’m with you, it’s less likely I’ll be shot or carved into pieces or blown to bits, because he doesn’t want to kill you.’ She looked up at Thorne, her eyes stark. ‘And if I hear bad news about Aidan, I’m going to need you.’
Thorne looked like he’d say no again, but those last few words had his posture softening. ‘All right. But stay close.’
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Thursday 16 June, 3.10 P.M.
Shot or carved into pieces . . . Huddled in the back of their borrowed SUV, Gwyn choked back the bile that burned her throat. Either of those things could be happening to Aidan right now.
Because I care about him and because Thorne cares about me. She’d seen the devastation on Thorne’s face, because he knew this was true. His family, his friends, they were all being tormented because he cared about them.
He knew that sooner or later they would break, the strain too much to endure. So far no one had been seriously hurt, except for Agent Ingram and it appeared he’d survive. He was still in ICU, but had been upgraded from critical to serious.
But if one of them died? Then what? Thorne would walk away to protect them, she knew that already. He’d give himself up to Tavilla, and if that didn’t work? She didn’t want to think about it.
She glanced over at him, needing to see his face. Needing him to tell her that this was going to be all right, that Aidan would be found alive, that Tavilla would be arrested, and that all of this would stop. But his gaze was darting in every direction, trying to spot a threat in time to neutralize it. In the front passenger seat, Clay did the same. Frederick drove grimly, as if anticipating an obstacle course.
I shouldn’t have come. They’ll try to protect me first. She’d opened her mouth to ask Frederick to turn around, to take her back to Clay’s, when Thorne’s phone buzzed.
‘Joseph,’ he answered. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you.’ He told him about the call from Montreal. ‘I wanted to be sure you got the message. We’re just leaving Clay’s house. I want you to meet me at Anne’s address.’ Joseph must have told him to go back to Clay’s, because Thorne’s brow crunched in a frown. ‘No. I’ll see you there. Why didn’t you tell us that you were serving a warrant on Judge Segal’s home?’
Gwyn was distracted from Thorne’s conversation when her own phone buzzed with an incoming text. A photo. The preview screen showed a blanket-covered figure, and new dread settled over her. She opened the text and couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her throat.
It was Aidan, lying on a concrete floor in a heap. Blood pooled around his head. ‘No,’ she cried hoarsely.
Thorne leaned over to look and swore. Slowing to turn onto the road at the end of Clay’s long driveway, Frederick looked up into the rear-view mirror and—
The sudden impact stole Gwyn’s breath and had her crying out again, this time in pain. From the corner of her eye she’d seen the approaching Hummer roar out of the trees, a split second before it rammed them broadside. Frederick struggled to maintain control as their SUV was pushed off the road, careening down a slight hill to smash into a tree.