"I shouldn't have taken you with me. I should have commandeered your truck and left you on the sidewalk."
"Like that was going to happen," he said dryly. "I will be sure to tell them I went willingly and actually forced you to take me. But don't waste your concern on me. I'm fine. And when you're done on your end, I'll be waiting."
She liked the sound of that.
"And, Bree," he added. "The promise I made to you at the bus station still stands. You tell your secret however and whenever you want. As far as anyone else is concerned, I know nothing."
"Last time you didn't talk, you got beat up. This time, you might go to jail. I don't want you to lie for me."
"The cops don't know as much as we do, and at the moment, neither does the FBI. My interview will probably be over before the police know you're Hayley's birth mother."
"You might be right."
"I'll handle myself," Nathan added. "You take care of you. And try to remember you didn't do anything wrong, Bree. You loved the wrong guy a long time ago, but everything else you did right. And you're still doing it right. You're Hayley's best chance at survival. Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise."
Her heart swelled with gratitude. Nathan had always been the one person she could count on. "We'll meet up later," she said. But judging by the intent looks on her fellow agents' faces, she didn't think that would be any time soon.
Thirteen
As Bree had predicted, the police detectives had zeroed in on Nathan, taking him down to the station, while the FBI had hustled her back to the office for a long chat.
She'd been in a conference room for the last five hours, having gone through every detail of her past: her relationship with Johnny, her teenaged pregnancy, the time she'd spent in Detroit, and the woman who'd set up the adoption. Then they'd moved forward in time to last year: the previous kidnapping cases, the news coverage in Philadelphia, and the text messages she'd received from the kidnapper. Finally, they'd zeroed in on her actions today: her arrival at the Jansens' house, her discussion with Nathan, which had led to them following Mark to the silos together, and the shots that were fired—one to disable and one to kill.
While most of the questioning was led by Tracy and/or ASAIC Hobbs, various other agents had come in and out of the conference room to ask questions and/or give updates on the investigation into the crime scene at the silos as well as Mark's condition. He was now out of surgery, still critical, but holding his own for the moment. She was tremendously grateful to know that he was going to make it.
The texts and the photos she had received from the kidnapper were being analyzed, but she doubted they would find anything. The kidnapper was too smart, always staying one step ahead. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he had some background in law enforcement. He seemed to know exactly how to mask his actions from the bureau, an agency with tremendous resources and technological expertise.
The fourth photo—the one she was sure would say daughter—had still not arrived. She had no doubt that another message would be arriving at some point. The game was not over. The kidnapper was not done.
As early evening shadows darkened the conference room, Tracy flipped on a light and sat down at the other end of the table as she took a call. It was just the two of them now, and Tracy seemed to be doing more listening than talking, which was unusual since Tracy always seemed like she had a lot to say.
Bree glanced at her watch. It was almost six. She was exhausted and starving. And she was getting tired of playing good little FBI soldier to Tracy and a bunch of colleagues who didn't like her much for mucking up their investigation and withholding what they considered to be important information. Never mind that it had been less than forty-eight hours since she'd arrived in Chicago, even though it felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd gotten on the plane.
Everything had been happening at lightning speed. Maybe they were pissed at being left out of the loop for a few hours, but she was getting angry about being cooped up in the office for so long and treated like a criminal instead of an agent.
"Are we done?" she asked when Tracy got off the phone and moved down the table to sit across from her.
"Almost. That was Detective Benedict. He said that Calvin Baker was living in an apartment on Hayward Street until a week ago."
"Hayward Street is where the gym is—the boxing gym that is owned by the Hawke family."
"We're aware," she said shortly. "The landlord said Baker moved out last week, leaving a half month's rent on the table. His whereabouts after that are unknown. Neighbors had nothing to say."
"No one on Hayward Street ever has much to say. Was there anything else?"
"Baker has been in and out of jail the past ten years. He's done just about everything from drug deals, to gun running, car theft, and assault."
"And his ties to Johnny Hawke?"
"Nothing recently."
Wasn't that convenient, especially since the information had come from Detective Benedict?
"What do you know about Detective Benedict?" she asked. "Because a long time ago, he appeared to be very close to Johnny's father. Suddenly today he shows up at the hospital. He hasn't been involved in this case at all, so why is he now a part of it?"
"Because he works organized crime, and he actually put Baker in jail four years ago after a drug bust. We contacted him looking for more information. We brought him into this, Bree."
She frowned. "It still seems odd to me. I'd swear he was a dirty cop when I lived here. I know I saw him talking to Johnny and his father. There was something between them."
Tracy shrugged. "If he's dirty, he's good, because he's had his job for over twenty years."
"Well, I need to talk to him. I want to speak to Johnny as well." She was dreading that, but it had to be done.
"No. You're not talking to anyone," Tracy said definitively. "My team will be conducting all the interviews."
"But I know Johnny."
"Obviously," she said sarcastically. "But you would be emotionally compromised in any interview with Mr. Hawke, so we will take it from here."
"He would tell me more than he would tell you."
"Would he? You did steal his child from him."
She sighed, knowing she couldn't argue that. "All right. Then let's end this now. There's nothing more to be said." She pushed back her chair and stood up.
Tracy gave her a hostile look as she also got to her feet. "That's not your call, Bree."
"I think it is. Despite the fact that you're treating me like a suspect, we are on the same side."
"It feels like you've been playing both sides," Tracy returned. "You should have told us that you thought this little girl was your daughter."
"I honestly didn't think that until about five minutes before I went to the silos. But we've been over all that a hundred times already. I didn't come to Chicago to make trouble; I came because this was a setup. I was lured here. Hayley's kidnapping wasn't done by the White Rose Kidnapper; it was just made to look that way, so I'd be called in. There's still a little girl out there we need to find, whether she's my daughter or not."
"I am very aware of that."
"Then why are you talking to me instead of looking for her?"
"Because you made a mess of things, and I have to clean it up."
"I didn't make a mess of anything," she snapped. "And if you weren't holding some grudge against me from the academy, you'd be acting a lot differently."
"No, I wouldn't. I go by the book, Bree. I follow protocol. I don't act out of passion and emotion. I always use my head. I'm logical. I plan my every move. I don't jump into trucks with a civilian friend and drive him to a ransom drop."