Tapping her fingers restlessly on her keyboard, she shut down her computer. She needed to get out of the office and at least get some air. But what could she do that would be helpful?
The one place she hadn't been yet was Hayley's school and perhaps seeing the actual site of the abduction would help her figure something out. According to the investigators who had gone over the stage area with a fine-tooth comb, there was nothing to find, but they hadn't seen the school sites where the three other children had been abducted. Maybe she would view the scene differently.
Gathering her things together, she headed downstairs. She unsuccessfully tried to flag down a taxi, then checked her app for any available rideshare cars nearby, but prices were surging, and cars were scarce. It was one o'clock—lunchtime—and everyone seemed to be on the move.
The rumbling of the train a few blocks away told her she did have another option. She just really hated riding the L, which was short for Chicago's elevated train system. It was always crowded, usually hot, often dirty and smelly, and the rickety, rocking curves often made her feel sick.
In the past, the body-to-body cramming on the train had also brought forth some unwelcome touching, and she still shivered when she thought about those moments.
But she did need to get across town…
She'd give it another five minutes.
While she was waiting for the next light to change and hopefully send a taxi in her direction, her phone rang. The unidentified number sent a jolt through her system, and she mentally prepared herself to hear the creepy altered voice once more. But this time she was ready. She used a new app the tech had recently put on her phone to record and trace the call.
"Agent Adams," she said crisply, confidently.
"I missed seeing you at the news conference," he said.
"I was busy. Are you ready to tell me what you want?"
"That wouldn't be much fun, although at the moment, I feel quite bored. You seem to have no idea who I am, where I might be. How can I run if you don't get closer?"
"Why don't you give me a clue?"
"There's not much challenge in that," he said, the noise from a loudspeaker cutting off his last word.
Her brain sharpened. It sounded like he was at a train station.
Another rumble echoed through the phone. She strained to hear what the voice on the speaker was saying. It sounded like Park Station. She knew where Park Station was. It was, in fact, quite close to her old neighborhood. That couldn't be a coincidence.
"She's waiting for you," the voice said, sending a shiver down her spine.
It was the first time he'd mentioned Hayley.
"Don't hurt her."
"That's entirely up to you."
The phone clicked off. She drew in a deep breath as blood rocketed through her veins. She glanced back at the building behind her. She could go back inside and turn over the recording…but then what? Someone else would eventually get to checking out the train station? She could easily do that herself. She was going to take the train after all.
Turning, she walked down the block to the nearest station. She was probably playing into the kidnapper's game. He'd no doubt made the call knowing she would hear the speaker behind him.
But it was a crowded, public place. She wasn't worried he was going to go after her. She just needed to figure out if there was some area around that station where he might be keeping Hayley.
On the way to the train, she called Tracy. Thankfully, she did not pick up. She wanted to be up front with the Chicago team, but she also didn't want to get stopped in her tracks.
Leaving a voicemail, she said, "I heard from the kidnapper again. I'm going to check out a hunch. Call me when you get this, and I'll fill you in. The good news is that I think Hayley is still alive." She called the tech who had set up her phone next. When the woman answered, she said, "Eva," she said. "I got another call. I'll send you the recording." She punched a button to do that, and then slipped her phone into her bag. She bought a ticket from the machine and hopped onto the next train.
As she'd expected, despite the brisk weather outside, the train was hot and steamy, with tons of people on board. She grabbed a nearby rail as the train lurched down the track. Within minutes, she was regretting her decision.
Knots formed in her throat, and she felt a wave of motion sickness as the train screeched around a corner. She could have just waited for a taxi and taken a cab to Park Station. But that could have taken too long.
Maybe coming back to Chicago was a good thing. Perhaps facing her past and fears like these were just what she needed to really break free of who she'd once been. She wasn't Bree Larson anymore. She was Bree Adams. She'd turned herself into her own person.
Mental pep talk over, she managed to stay on the train as the doors opened at the next stop. One more stop, and she'd be at Park Station. She could make another minute or two.
The train swayed again as it started to move. Thirty seconds later, she felt someone's hand on her back.
Turning her head, she looked down and saw a young girl tugging on the hem of her coat. The girl appeared to be about ten or eleven with straight, brown hair, a pale, dirty face and big, wide, green eyes.
"Mommy?" the little girl said.
"What?" she gasped, sure she hadn't heard her correctly. "What did you say?"
"How come you never came back and got me?"
Shocked at the question, she could barely draw a breath. "I—What?"
"I was waiting," the little girl said. "For a long time."
"I'm not—I'm not your mother," she finally bit out.
The train came to a halt, and the little girl slipped away from her as the doors opened, and a mass of people exited.
She hesitated one second, then got off the train, and ran after the girl, wondering who she was, why she'd said what she'd said. There were so many people, she quickly lost sight of the child, and when she went down the stairs to the sidewalk, the girl had vanished.
The train rumbled overhead as it continued on its way. She looked back up, seeing a sign on the stairs—Park Station.
She'd gotten to where she needed to go, and it had been a trap.
She'd just never expected the trap to include a young girl—a girl who wasn't Hayley.
Who was she? How had she known to get on the train? Why had she said what she'd said? And where the hell was she now?
She looked up and down the street, feeling unseen eyes upon her.
He was close by. She could feel it.
He'd lured her to this spot, and the stakes had just been raised in a manner she never could have anticipated.
Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it. Was he calling her again?
No. It was Tracy returning her call. She sent the call to voicemail. She couldn't talk to Tracy right now, not while she was feeling so raw and so very confused.
The kidnapper had done his research on her. He obviously knew more about her than just about everyone else in the world—except one.
She'd had a feeling her good-bye to Nathan was not going to stick.
*
Nathan stood on the third floor of the duplex he was building in Lakeview. As a general contractor, he ran a crew of two and subbed out the rest of the work. One of his employees was on vacation, and his foreman, Joe Kelly, was about to run out and pick up some supplies, leaving him with not much to do until Joe got back.
With the framing done, and no drywall up yet, he had a good view of the surrounding neighborhood. Being up high and outside reminded him of the times he and Bree had sat on roofs overlooking the city, dreaming about a different life.
As he heard Joe speaking to someone, he walked closer to the edge and peered down at the street. It was Bree. She was back. Just like that, every resolution he'd made about not seeing her again, not letting her get into his head, not allowing himself to be dragged into the past, went out the window.
She was dressed in black slacks and a white shirt and a black blazer. Her hair was down today, falling in pretty waves around her shoulders.