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  “By the way,” Natalie said, finally recovering her breath, “where are we?”

  He looked at her curiously. “Boonsboro.”

  Natalie nodded, felt relieved to finally put a pin in the map.

  Boonsboro, Maryland.

  They were sixty miles outside DC.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Boonsboro was a picturesque town of a few thousand, which meant they did not have a traditional police station. The station was actually an old two-story white colonial house with a front porch that sat in the middle of an acre of land. The only way to know it was a police station was the big wooden sign out front with the flags and the police cruiser in the driveway. Natalie thanked the old farmer profusely. She then hurried inside the house through the front door. There were only two people inside: a female administrator who sat behind a desk and looked to be in her fifties, with her red hair pulled back into a tight bun, and a balding uniformed cop of maybe forty who was standing nearby and chatting it up with her. They both looked genuinely surprised to have an unexpected visitor. Natalie figured there was probably not a whole lot of crime happening around this small town. Boonsboro was about to be introduced to a full-on abduction-and-hostage situation.

  With urgency, Natalie began to explain the direness of her situation to the bald officer, who seemed genuinely shocked at the mention of an abduction. He quickly ushered her into a back conference room and began taking down copious notes. The red-haired woman, who introduced herself as Gloria, brought her a cold bottle of water. When Natalie told Officer Charlie Riddell everything she had stored in her mind, he said he needed to make a call to his chief. He left her alone in the room.

  Gloria returned with a package of cheese crackers and a banana. She thought Natalie might be hungry. Natalie asked for the bathroom. Gloria walked her through the back door of the conference room and down a hallway that led to a single-toilet bathroom in the back of the house. Inside, Natalie cleaned the dirt and mud off her hands, washed her face in the sink, and tried her best to sort out her messy hair in the mirror. It wasn’t much help. She badly needed a shower. She stared at herself in the mirror, took another deep breath, and exhaled. On the one hand, she was relieved to be away from her captors and the warehouse. On the other hand, like a good journalist, she was eager to start putting together the pieces of this complex puzzle. She wanted to talk to Sam.

  She returned to the hallway and reentered the conference room. Gloria again checked on her, asked if she needed anything else, showing deep concern for Natalie’s overall well-being. Natalie appreciated it but insisted she was fine. Gloria then said something that surprised Natalie.

  “There are two federal agents out here who want to speak with you. They said they’ve been actively looking for you. Officer Charlie is giving them details of your situation right now.”

  Natalie felt a check in her gut. “How do you know they’re federal agents?”

  Gloria shrugged. “They have proper identification.” She tilted her head at Natalie, her forehead bunched. “Everything okay, dear?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  When Gloria shut the door to the conference room, Natalie bolted out of her seat and went to the small window in the front of the room. She peeked through the blinds to the front room, cursed. Standing in a huddle with Officer Charlie were two of her new pals, JB and Abe—only now they were both wearing the dark windbreakers you might see on federal agents. She was shocked. Was there any way these guys worked for the government? She’d been grabbed, hooded, forcefully tossed into the back of an unmarked van. She couldn’t fathom it was the work of the feds. No way. Natalie felt panic ripple through her. How did they find her? Who were these guys? What would they do with her next? She knew one thing for sure—she sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

  She rushed to the back door of the conference room, quietly returned to the hallway. She’d noticed it a few minutes ago on the way to the restroom: a black purse hung on a hook by the back door, along with several sets of keys. Natalie grabbed the purse, then considered the two cars parked out back. A Jeep sitting up on huge tires. Probably Officer Charlie’s personal car. The other was a black Honda Civic. She looked for a set of Honda keys on the hooks, found them. Natalie heard Officer Charlie in the conference room call her name. She opened the back door, jumped down a few steps, and ran over to the Civic. She unlocked the door with the key fob, jumped inside, threw the black purse into the passenger seat. She quickly started up the car, shifted it into reverse.

  When she was shifting back into drive, she saw the men step out the back of the house, look over at her. Officer Charlie seemed confused. JB and Abe locked eyes on her and wasted little time in scrambling back around the side of the house, obviously intent on following her. Natalie slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The Civic raced forward. She took the side road beside the police station, returned to the main road. Peering over to her left, she spotted Abe and JB jumping into a gray Chevy sedan.

  Natalie hit the gas again, spun the tires. Zipping down Main Street, she saw a sign for US 40 Alt East—back toward DC. The tires spun again, and she raced around two puttering old trucks. She kept her foot down, and the Civic quickly sped up past seventy miles per hour and headed toward eighty. When the Civic hit ninety, she could feel the little car start to vibrate under duress. She was also under serious duress and had to remind herself to keep breathing. She hadn’t driven this fast since she was fleeing from Redrock military helicopters last fall. If nothing else, that experience had given her a bit of confidence that she could handle this type of escape. She zigged in and out of slower-moving traffic on the highway. Squinting in her rearview mirror, she cursed again. They were back there and already gaining. Natalie knew she couldn’t stay on the highway all the way back to DC. She’d surely wreck the car—or worse.

  She needed a way to lose them, and quickly.

  Thinking of a plan, she punched her foot down farther.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Honda Civic inched its way past one hundred miles per hour.

  At this point, Natalie wasn’t sure she would even stop for a cop, should she spot the flashing lights behind her. Not with the gray Chevy sedan so close on her tail. If JB and Abe had fooled the Boonsboro cops with their fake credentials, she would fully expect them to convince a common patrol officer in Middletown or Braddock Heights. Even a highway cop would likely turn her right over, maybe help push her into the back of the Chevy sedan himself.

  The thought was terrifying.

  The Civic reached 110 miles per hour, the car seeming to barely hold together, pushing Natalie’s heart up in her throat. She could still see the Chevy sedan gaining ground on her. Her hands felt sweaty on the steering wheel, which was not a good sensation with the small car flying so fast down the highway. Natalie saw a sign up ahead and veered onto Washington National Pike.

  She was getting close now. Time to try a new evasion tactic.

  She spotted the exit sign, slowed as to not crash the Civic, and pulled off the highway. The Francis Scott Key Mall sat right alongside the highway. She’d shopped there once before with some girlfriends when they were on their way back to the city after staying at a country bed-and-breakfast. Natalie ran a red light, causing a Lexus SUV to swerve and barely miss crashing into her. She stomped the gas again, entered the mall parking lot, and nearly took out an older couple walking too close to the middle of a row of cars. Natalie sped right up to the curb directly outside Macy’s department store. She slammed on her brakes, shifted the car into park, and grabbed the black purse from the passenger seat.

  Jumping out of the car, she hurried toward the glass doors. As she pushed through them, she took a glance back. The boys were right there behind her. The Chevy skidded to a stop on the curb directly behind the Civic. Natalie spun around, raced deeper into the mall. She dashed all the way through Macy’s, hit the main shopping corridor. The mall was busy with shoppers, which is what she both hoped for and expected. She looked
for a quick place to hide, darted inside a Victoria’s Secret, and took a position behind a rack near the back but still with a clear view of the shoppers walking by in front of the store. She politely waved off a store clerk without taking her eyes off the corridor for a single moment.

  Come on, boys. Where are you?

  Thirty seconds later, she saw them. JB and Abe were still wearing the dark windbreakers. Ducking completely out of view, she peeked out again. The boys split up, headed in opposite directions. This made Natalie uneasy. Now she’d have to evade them from two different directions.

  Easing back to the front of the store, she saw Abe heading away from her to the left. No sign of JB anywhere on her right. She couldn’t hide out in a lingerie shop all day. The plan was to get in and out of the mall in a hurry, hope her tagalongs would waste a lot of time looking for her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back into the main corridor and sidled up behind two girls. She then slipped inside an Aeropostale clothing store.

  Pausing for a moment, she took inventory of the other shoppers, making sure JB hadn’t stolen away for a look inside the store before her. Natalie went to work quickly, snagging a light-blue blouse off one rack, a new pair of white shorts off another rack, some deck shoes, and finally a dark-blue stylish baseball cap. Taking the items to the counter, she dug in Gloria’s wallet and pulled out a Visa card. She said a quick prayer that Gloria had not yet reached her limit on the credit card or had not immediately reported it as stolen.

  She handed the Visa card to the clerk, who swiped it through the machine. Natalie watched closely, her right leg bouncing up and down nervously. The clerk asked her to sign inside the digital box. Natalie exhaled, quickly scribbled an ineligible name. The clerk bagged up the items, and Natalie asked if she could use the dressing room to change into them. She got a curious look at that point; nevertheless, the clerk led her back to a dressing room.

  Natalie peeled herself out of her white tank top and jeans and put on the new items. They weren’t a perfect fit. She did not have the luxury of trying on different sizes. Tugging the bill of the new blue baseball cap low on her forehead, she stuffed as much of her brown hair up underneath the cap as possible. She stared at her appearance in the mirror, pleased with the dramatic change. Would it be enough?

  After shoving all her old items into the shopping bag, she left the store and took a straight path back toward Macy’s. She had to resist the urge to walk too fast and stand out. When she was within fifty feet of the department store, JB stepped out in front of her, causing Natalie to scream on the inside—although he was searching faces behind her. He’d been inside an H&M store on her left. It took everything within Natalie not to halt in place, like a deer in headlights, which she knew would instantly blow her cover. Instead, she kept walking. One shaky foot after another. He was ten feet to her left. Five feet. Natalie passed by him without incident, entered Macy’s, again fought the urge to immediately spin around and put eyes on him. When she was well inside the store, she casually veered off behind a clothing rack, took her first look. She didn’t spot JB anywhere, which made her nervous. She’d much rather know exactly where he was at the moment—especially being so close to her exit.

  Natalie turned around, walked briskly toward the same doors she’d entered twenty minutes ago. Pausing by the doors, she peered out at the parking lot. Both cars were still parked illegally on the curb. She was glad to not find a tow truck hooking up the Civic. There were no eyes looking back at her from inside the Chevy sedan.

  Natalie stepped outside, her breath short. As she neared, she couldn’t help but run toward the Civic. She opened the driver’s door, dropped inside, started the car. She shifted into drive, punched the gas pedal. As she exited the mall parking lot, she kept her eyes glued on her rearview mirror until she could no longer see the parked Chevy.

  The boys were still inside the mall. Search away, fellas.

  She exhaled. Now back to DC.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Sam took a cab from the airport to the heart of the French Quarter.

  The address listed for Rich Hebbard’s law firm put him on a busy sidewalk right outside a high-rise office building on Canal Street—the Mississippi River only a block away. Climbing out of the cab, Sam felt moisture quickly bead up on his skin; it was a muggy morning, the air thick and sticky. He entered the building, hopped on an elevator, and ascended to the sixth floor. Stepping out, he searched both ways, spotted a title company and a graphic-design studio off to his left. He walked down the opposite hallway, where he passed by a software firm and an insurance company before he finally stood directly outside a shiny wooden door at the end of the hallway labeled Hebbard & Hawkins, LLP.

  Sam paused, feeling the weight of the moment.

  Was there any chance Hebbard would be hiding inside?

  Was he about to come face-to-face with his real father?

  He took a deep breath, exhaled. Only one way to find out. He reached down, grabbed the door handle, only to discover it was locked. He tried to peer into the frosted window beside the door. It looked like the lights were all off inside the lobby, which seemed odd to him. After all, it was a normal business day and within normal business hours. Why would everyone at the firm currently be out of the office?

  Sam examined the door handle. Just a regular key slot—nothing high-tech like a card key. He thought it would be unusual for the office to have an alarm system with security guards stationed in the lobby at all hours. He knocked, waited. No one came to the door. He tried a second time, just to be sure. Still no answer. He wanted to at least get inside the office and have a look around, see if he could find anything that might lead him to Hebbard. He glanced down the hallway when two men in suits exited the door of the insurance company. They gave a quick look in his direction and then walked away toward the elevators.

  Sam waited until he heard an elevator door open and shut, then he quickly knelt in front of the door and unzipped his black backpack. He’d hit a hardware store on the way from the airport and had purchased a few items he thought he might need at some point along the journey: duct tape, a short bundle of black rope, several screwdrivers, and a four-piece pick-and-probe set, which is usually used in working with car engines. Sam had different plans for them. He grabbed two tools from the pick-and-probe set, carefully inserted them into the heavy-duty key slot. He put pressure down with one tool and used the other to scrub the lock pins until he heard the lock fully release.

  He stepped inside the dark lobby of the law office.

  “Hello?” Sam called out. “Anyone here?”

  No reply. No sounds at all. He found a light switch on the lobby wall and flipped it up. The ceiling lights flickered on, leaving Sam completely confused. Although he was standing in what looked like a small lobby, it was completely empty. No receptionist desk, no chairs, no sofa, no rugs, no art on the walls. What the hell? He walked over to an inner hallway, where he found another light switch. The fluorescents in the hallway popped on. Again, he shook his head. There was a wide-open space in the middle of the office suite where he guessed cubicles would normally go, but this area was also barren. Just carpet and windows. He searched even further, hitting light switches in all six of the enclosed offices that hugged the right side of the suite, along with a large conference room. Every single space inside the office suite was empty. The only item he found in the whole place was a phone system that was plugged into the wall and sat on the carpet inside the corner office.

  Sam pulled out his cell phone, dialed the main number he had listed for Hebbard & Hawkins, LLP. The phone on the floor in front of him rang four times, shocking him, and then a recording greeted him with words from a chipper female voice.

  “You’ve reached the law offices of Hebbard and Hawkins. We’re unable to take your call at the moment, but please leave us a detailed message, and we will return your call as soon as possible. Your business is very important to us. Have a great day.”

  When the voice mail beeped, Sam waited
a few seconds without saying anything, then hung up. He watched as the voice mail light on the phone system went from dark to a blinking red. His call was the only voice mail? What was going on?

  He stepped back into the wide-open middle space again, hands on hips. None of this made any sense. Why was the entire office suite empty? Had Hebbard and Hawkins already cleaned house and gotten rid of everyone and everything, as they prepared to turn on their own client? Was that part of their exit strategy? It seemed highly unlikely—shutting down an entire office of this magnitude was no easy and quick matter. It could take several weeks to coordinate. The dramatic ordeal with Hawkins and Hebbard felt like it had all blown up on them within the past couple of days.

  There had to be another explanation.

  Sam shut off all the lights, returned to the main hallway, and then stepped inside the office suite for the insurance company next door. A young female receptionist greeted him with a bright smile. He could hear the sounds of normal office activity coming from the hallway behind the reception area—phones ringing, printers churning, people talking—all the noises he expected to hear down the hallway.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.

  “I sure hope so. I’m looking for the attorneys who work in the office space next door. Rich Hebbard and Tom Hawkins. Do you know either of them?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir. We haven’t met anyone from the law firm yet. I actually don’t think they’ve moved into the office. The sign on the door only went up a few days ago.”

  “Oh, okay. So you haven’t seen anyone come and go from over there?”

  “No, sir. Sorry.”