Out of Reach: A Novel (4 page)

“And look at him.” Alec picked up Cody’s picture and slid it across the table to her. “He’s beautiful.”

“They’re all beautiful.”

“Not like this kid.” He had an angel’s face, though he tried to hide it with a scowl, dark blue eyes ringed with sooty lashes, and hair that, even shaggy and dirty, looked touched by gold. “I bet he’s been fighting since he was five, just because of that face.” Alec tapped a finger on the glossy photo. “This boy was targeted.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “So he was targeted.”

“High risk
and
targeted.” The worst possible combination. “Whoever took this boy was a pro, someone who’s done it before, a lot, and knew what he was doing.”

“And?”

Reality was a bitch, but Alec had never been one to shy away from her. “The only way we’re going to find Cody is if we get very lucky.”

“Or the kidnapper gets stupid.”

Alec arched an eyebrow, then shook his head slowly. They both knew the chances of that one. “Not likely.”

IV

T
HE FIRST MILE
was always the hardest, before Erin hit her stride, before her mind and body slipped into a place of pure physical effort. Then her thoughts shut down, the constant mind chatter finally quieting. She forgot about Claire and the CIA, her classes and students at Georgetown, this month’s constant stream of bills, her mother’s death, and even her concerns for Janie.

Instead, Erin concentrated on her breathing, the steady beat of her heart, and her feet pounding the hard-packed dirt. She slipped into a world of silence that she found only while running.

She’d started jogging in her early teens, in the months following Claire’s disappearance. The first time had been after an argument with her mother. She couldn’t remember what they’d been fighting about—though she didn’t doubt it had been fueled by their grief over Claire. Angry, Erin had raced out of the house, with no particular destination in mind. She’d just run, away from her mother, away from the ghost of Claire, away from her own fear and guilt over both.

Two hours later, she’d returned home physically spent but rested, too, in an odd sort of way. She’d then been able to face her mother, who’d been so relieved when Erin returned that she hadn’t punished her for taking off. At the time, Erin hadn’t understood. She did now. After losing one daughter, Elizabeth Baker would never have survived losing a second.

From then on, Erin had run regularly, anytime her sister’s disappearance closed in around her or the life of a teenager became too high pressure. She’d found it helped with her martial-arts classes as well, making her stronger and faster while increasing her ability to focus.

Even now, after all these years, running was part of her discipline, part of the regimen she followed to stay in top form. During the week, she got up before the rest of the household and walked the few blocks to Jamestown Park, the starting point of a jogging/biking trail that followed one of the dozen streams flowing into the Potomac. Round-trip it was an eight-mile trek, with mile markers all along the way. Monday through Friday she did six, but on the weekends she slept in, waiting until nearly seven before heading out and doing the whole eight miles.

Today she was even later than usual. Thanks to her conversation with Bill, sleep had eluded her for most of the night. His observation about her anger had gnawed at her. She knew he was right, but after hours of restless tossing and turning, she’d realized he’d been wrong about the source. True, she missed the excitement of working as a covert officer overseas and the knowledge that she was making a difference, serving her country in a way that suited her. Here, her position within the CIA was in a holding pattern while her superiors decided what to do with her. However, there was one major compensation for her stagnated career. Janie. It had taken only a few months for Erin to realize what she’d almost missed, and now she wouldn’t have exchanged this chance to watch her niece grow up for anything.

Still, her anger hovered close to the surface. Bill hadn’t been wrong about that. The question was why, and the answer went back to Claire’s kidnapping, to the single act that had forever altered the lives of everyone Erin loved. The monster who’d stolen Claire’s innocence and shattered their family was still pulling invisible strings, shaping the people they had all become and how they lived their lives.

Erin hated it, despised that she had no control, that she was still no less a victim than she’d been at twelve years old. That was the true source of her anger, the underpinnings of what kept her ready to lash out at any moment. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

Finally, just as the eastern horizon had hinted at the approaching day, she’d drifted off, sleeping fitfully until Janie bounded in at eight thirty. The seven-year-old brought morning sunshine and pure energy as she bounced on Erin’s bed to wake her sleepyhead of an aunt. A half hour later, Erin had headed for the park.

Now, as she came to the end of her run and the path leading back to the entrance, she considered going an extra mile or two. She was still edgy and in need of physical exertion.

Then she remembered Janie and their plans for the day. By the time Erin got back to the house, her niece would be at the breakfast table, too excited to eat. Like Friday night pizza, spending Saturday together had become a routine as they explored the sites around the D.C. area.

They’d done the normal tourist stuff: walking the mall, visiting monuments, and touring museums. Janie particularly loved the National Gallery of Art and had begged Erin to take her back three times already. The child’s artist eye took in everything and later transferred it to her own drawing pad. But they’d found things of particular interest for kids as well, and today they were headed for the National Zoo. Janie had been talking about it all week. She wanted to see the pandas.

So instead of going an extra mile or two, Erin slowed to a fast walk and headed for a nearby bench. Spending time with Janie would be worth forgoing the extra running.

As she stretched out her heated muscles, she looked around.

A playground dominated this area of the park. In the center sat a brightly colored labyrinth of slides and tunnels, ladders, and climbing or hanging bars. Flanking it were a pair of swing sets, a slow saddle type for babies and toddlers on one side and a flat-seated highflier for the bigger kids on the other. Plastic animals on heavy-duty springs, seesaws, run and push merry-go-rounds, and a wooden sandbox filled in the spaces.

The park was quickly filling with people, mothers pushing carriages or children on swings. Fathers, too. Families. Erin wished Janie could experience a normal family, but that wasn’t likely. Her father’s identity was lost somewhere in Claire’s damaged mind, if she’d ever known it to begin with, and Claire . . . well, she’d hardly qualify as your standard PTA mom.

Erin dropped down onto the bench, resting her head against the back and closing her eyes. The sun felt good on her skin, warm and nourishing. It was a beautiful day, perfect for an outdoor excursion, and she wasn’t going to waste it worrying about things she couldn’t change.

Fall had temporarily retreated, giving summer her way with the sunshine and temperature. Overhead, the cloudless blue sky was so sharp it almost hurt her eyes. The trees still shimmered in their greenery, and the last of the summer flowers reached toward the sun: lilies, impatiens, and cyclamen.

Erin, who’d never cared much for growing things, mentally checked off the names she’d once learned as part of an undercover operation, where she’d posed as a florist. She didn’t understand the mystique of tending plants, but she did gain an appreciation for their beauty and a satisfaction in knowing their names.

A high-tinkling bell sparkled the air.

Erin sat up. An ice-cream vendor pushed a cart along the walk toward the playground. Excitement rippled through the surrounding children, who pleaded with parents for money, then raced toward the man and his cart, small fists tight around dollar bills.

Too bad Janie wasn’t here. It was a little early in the day for ice cream, but that would make it even more fun. Erin stood and started toward the small crowd of children, thinking she could buy Janie a treat for later.

When she got closer, however, she saw that the vendor wasn’t dishing out ice cream. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he was performing simple sleight-of-hand tricks for his captive audience. A squeal of delight escaped one little girl as he pulled a coin from her ear, then made it disappear again with a sweep of his other hand.

He wasn’t bad for a playground magician. In fact, the longer she watched, the more she realized he was very good. And there was something familiar about him. At first she couldn’t say exactly what, but then realized it was his hands. The way they moved, with an economy of motion, plucking a coin from the air or stroking a child’s cheek, without quite touching . . .

Erin shivered.

Where?

She studied those hands, and him, certain she’d seen him before. It nagged at her, tugging at a memory and making her uneasy. Nothing else about him helped place him. He was between forty and fifty. Five-ten or -eleven. Pale blue eyes. Balding. Soft around the middle. And nondescript. Which in itself bothered her.

When he finished his act, he started handing out ice cream to his eager audience. The children, however, weren’t done with him and begged for more tricks. He accommodated them, giving out another ice-cream bar and making the dollar of the boy who’d bought it disappear in midair.

Erin had to know where she’d seen him before.

She started across the grass to ask, then stopped, natural wariness or her CIA training taking over. Besides the sense that she should know him, there was something else disturbing about him, something that seemed not quite right. She told herself she was being foolish. He was, after all, only an ice-cream man, and none of the kids seemed the least bit shy around him. Still, Erin hung back, standing among the watching parents, taking note of the name on the cart—
KAUFFMAN FARMS FINE ICE CREAM
—and memorizing his features.

When the children finally released him, Erin fell back with the others. Though she kept an eye on him, with a quick glance or two as he closed down and readied his cart to move on. She gave one of the children a quick push on a swing, smiling at the mother who was busy with a toddler on a nearby plastic duck. Another quick look over her shoulder, another push, and Erin stepped away from the swing set.

He walked down the path, heading for the picnic grounds, his little bell announcing his approach.

Erin followed, weaving through the children as they raced from one piece of equipment to the next. She’d reached the edge of the playground, where she’d have to head across the grass toward the path . . .

“Miss Baker!”

Startled, she turned toward the child’s voice.

“Look, Mama, it’s Janie’s aunt.” A little girl, familiar, ran toward her, a woman about Erin’s age trailing behind. “It’s me, Alice. Don’t you remember?”

The child slid into place. Last week, when Erin had picked up Janie from a birthday party, she’d given this little girl a ride home.

“Of course I remember you,” Erin said, glancing at the retreating ice-cream cart.

“This is my mom,” Alice said, tugging on the woman who’d just caught up to her daughter.

Erin wanted to hurry after the man as he disappeared around a bend in the path, but what could she say?
Excuse me, but I think I’ve seen the ice-cream vendor before, and I want to follow him to see if I can remember where.
Put like that, it sounded ridiculous.

So she forced a smile and tried to focus on Alice and her mother. “Hi, Alice’s mom, I’m Janie’s aunt Erin.”

The other woman laughed. “Please, call me Rose. Thanks for bringing Alice home last week. My car picked the wrong day to get a flat tire.”

“Is there ever a good day for that type of thing?” Erin resisted the urge to again look after the man selling ice cream.

“You have a point.”

“Where’s Janie?” Alice asked, tugging on Erin’s hand.

“At home. I was out running.”

Alice looked crestfallen. “Can you go get her?”

“Alice,” her mother reprimanded. “I’m sure Erin has better things to do.”

Erin grinned, loving that Janie had made friends here. “It’s okay, Rose.” She had an idea. “Actually, Alice, I’m taking Janie to the zoo today. Would you like to come along?”

Alice brightened and turned to her mother. “Can I, Mama?”

“I don’t know, honey . . .”

“Oh, please.”

Erin interceded. “It wouldn’t be any trouble, Rose. Janie will have a better time with one of her friends along. And then, so will I.”

The woman laughed shortly. “Well, you’re right about that. So, sure, why not? But you’ve got to promise to let me return the favor and take the girls someday.”

“It’s a deal,” Erin answered.

“Yippee.” Alice jumped up and down and clapped her hands.

“We’re leaving around eleven, so how about if we swing by and pick up Alice then?”

“Sounds good.” Rose took her daughter’s hand and squeezed. “Okay, Alice, we better get home and get you ready.”

“One thing before you go,” Erin said, stopping them. “Did you happen to see the man selling ice cream?”

“Yeah, he was a little early today.”

“So, he comes here all the time?”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve seen this particular man.” Rose hesitated. “The usual one shows up later in the afternoon. But the coin tricks are a nice touch. I figured the regular guy couldn’t make it. Why?”

“Oh . . .” Erin suppressed the ring of alarm in her head. “I just thought Janie would enjoy the show, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe he’ll be back tomorrow.”

Somehow, Erin didn’t think so. “Maybe.”

“I guess we need to go get you cleaned up,” Rose said to her daughter. “We’ll see you in a bit, Erin. And thanks again.”

Erin watched the two head across the park, then she turned and started down the path where the man with the ice-cream cart had gone. At the edge of the park, she stopped, looking up and down the quiet suburban street.

He was nowhere around.

It was probably nothing, she told herself. But as she headed toward home, she didn’t believe it.

By late afternoon, Erin had gained a new appreciation for teachers, camp counselors, and anyone else who had to deal with seven-year-olds on a daily basis. So much energy, bottled up into such small packages. If she could bottle it, the country would no longer be dependent on foreign oil.

The zoo was packed. Evidently, a lot of people had had the same idea for how to spend this last glorious Saturday before chilly weather set in.

The girls didn’t seem to mind the crowds, however.

They went from display to display, hand in hand, their friendship cemented by the shared adventure. The elephants and rhinoceroses awed them, the big cats frightened them, and the scores of brightly colored birds enchanted them. They giggled over the antics of the bears, fell in love with the pandas, and spent an hour at the hands-on “How Do You Zoo” exhibit, where the children could experience what it was like to be a veterinarian or caretaker at the zoo.