Guardian Angel

For several seconds after Victoria stopped talking, Ann sat there unable to make an appropriate response.

Yes, she possessed the electronic-banking expertise and the experience with the Baltimore authorities. Those were the very skills that had gotten her noticed by the Bureau. The same Bureau that had ignored her warnings on that final case and caused the death of a child. Ann had sworn that she would never feel that helpless again. That was why she was here working in the private sector, away from all the bureaucratic crap. Working with the Colby Agency had helped her regain her self-confidence, her sense of purpose. It had made her feel capable of going out on that emotional limb of trusting her instincts once more.

Until now…maybe.

“You have a problem with taking this case, Ann?”

“No.” Ann laid the report aside and ordered a smile into place to cover the lie. “Absolutely not.” Even as she said the words, her stomach clenched.

“This is the highest-profile abduction yet,” Victoria noted with a pointed glance at the photo of Caroline Fowler. “That says one significant thing to me—”

“They’re getting braver,” Ann finished for her, resisting the urge to shift restlessly in her chair. Damn her inability to stop this infernal response. This was a case. Just a case. It wasn’t about her or her past.

“None of the law enforcement personnel already involved is going to be happy about your presence,” Victoria offered. “You’ll be treading into their territory, stepping on their toes.”

“I understand.” Ann folded her hands on the table in front of her. She particularly understood that she’d made a few enemies at the Bureau when she’d walked away. “What exactly does Mrs. Fowler want me to do that she believes the Bureau can’t?”

Victoria was a very elegant woman. Her dark, all-seeing eyes and coal-black hair streaked silver spoke of wisdom and years on this earth. She had built this agency with her own sweat and tears and a great deal more heartache than she would likely care to confess. But she never asked one of her investigators to do anything she wasn’t prepared to do herself. And yet somehow today she looked uncertain of the assignment she was about to give.

She couldn’t possibly know Ann’s secret. No one did.

“Six children have been wrenched away from their homes and not a single piece of evidence has been found. Katherine Fowler has every right to be concerned that her child will not be found. So—” Victoria exhaled a deep, worrisome sigh “—Mrs. Fowler has retained our agency to find the one man she is certain can rescue her daughter.”

Ann knew even before Victoria could say the words. “How am I supposed to do that?” This was a desperate mother grappling at straws. What she was asking would take days or weeks or longer—if it was even possible to lure this so-called Guardian Angel out of seclusion. Little Caroline Fowler probably didn’t have hours, much less days or weeks.

“I’m certain you’ll find a way,” Victoria insisted.

All Ann could do was give it her best shot. Even as the thought formed in her mind, she realized a dozen reasons she would fail before she even started. Her thoughts wandered to the guy with the baseball cap who rescued children from the worst possible situations. Not the guardian-angel persona the press had created but the man himself. No matter how you looked at it, the guy was still a murderer. She’d seen the sketches of him. The baseball cap and the ponytail of long hair were about all any of the kids ever remembered.

How did he choose the missing kids he intended to rescue? Was it about the ones he could find or did he have some sort of method or inside track even the police didn’t have?

The better question was, how the hell did she find him? What if it wasn’t one guy? Resolving that question could take weeks. Determination fired inside her. She would have to operate under the assumption this was indeed a lone perpetrator. If so, he definitely wasn’t a ghost or a phantom. He existed. Ate and slept like everyone else. Someone somewhere knew something. She didn’t believe in angels or spiritual guardians of any sort. Criminal or heroic, people were the ones who made things happen. And people made mistakes.

All she had to do was look for his mistakes.

Or maybe she’d just issue him an invitation.

Chapter Three

Fowler home Edgewater Thursday 12:05 p.m.

Katherine Fowler was devastated. Her physician had prescribed a heavy-duty sedative, but she refused to take it. The distraught woman considered her daughter’s abduction to be entirely her fault, and no one was going to convince her otherwise.

“If she’s…dead,” Katherine murmured, “I don’t think I’ll…” Her feeble voice trailed off.

“Mrs. Fowler.” Ann took a deep breath in an effort to subdue the adrenaline throttling through her veins. With genuine understanding in her eyes and compassion in her tone, she attempted to relay whatever assurances she could. “I’m sure the Bureau has told you that there is every reason to operate under the assumption that your daughter is still alive. Until there is evidence indicating otherwise, that won’t change. It’s important that you hang on to that.”

Special Agent Frank Lewis was on the back patio, speaking to the father. There had been a time when Ann had worked closely with Lewis. They’d been friends. Still were, she supposed. That old connection had gotten her past the father, who wanted nothing to do with what he called his wife’s ridiculous scheme.

The father, Trey Fowler, a member of a special Homeland Security council, had been out of the country at the time of the abduction. He knew nothing, but there was always the remote chance that his daughter’s abduction had something to do with his work. That possibility couldn’t be ruled out at this stage in the investigation no matter how much the MO of this case resembled that of another. Lewis had been kind enough to bring Ann up to speed on the way from the airport. But she understood that he’d told her what the Bureau wanted her to know.

Katherine Fowler shook her head. “There’s nothing else they can do. They won’t be able to find her.” A fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. “They haven’t found even one of the other five.” She scrubbed at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “That’s why we have to find him. He’s our only hope.”

Ann recognized and understood the feeling of being completely alone and helpless. She wished there was something she could do to assuage that horror. But there wasn’t. All she could do was attempt to distract her for a little while. “Before we move into that phase of my investigation,” she began, “I need you to understand a few vital facts.”

Katherine Fowler nodded eagerly. “Whatever I have to do. Anything.” She grabbed a wad of tissues and swiped at her nose.

Ann moistened her lips and went for broke. “First of all, you need to be fully aware that the perpetrators in this case watched your family for days or weeks. Every move you made was under a microscope. Intense planning and strategizing went into the decision as well as the move to take your little girl. I’m certain the Bureau emphasized that these people would have found the right opportunity one way or another, it was only a matter of time once the decision to take your daughter was made. Nothing anyone could have done would have stopped them.”

Katherine’s worried gaze clouded with confusion, and her head moved slowly from side to side. “No. I wasn’t watching her closely enough. Then I let them fool me into not calling the police. This is my fault.”

Ann ordered her heart rate to slow when it stubbornly continued to increase. The annoying constriction around her chest wouldn’t abate. She could not let the tension and panic gain so much ground so quickly. She hadn’t allowed that to happen in years; she wasn’t about to start now. Where was her objectivity? Focus, she ordered. Focus and stay that way.

“You had no reason to believe your daughter wasn’t perfectly safe in your backyard.” Ann tried again to reach past the blame Katherine Fowler had heaped onto her own shoulders. “The people who took your daughter are professionals. You have to understand that before we can move forward. This is an essential step, Katherine.” She used her first name for emphasis. “I need you to stop fixating on what you should have done and focus on what we can do.”

The neighborhood where the Fowler family resided was premiere. There was no reason at all to suspect trouble. The family’s feelings of security had been bought and paid for with top dollar. But no amount of money could erase the idea that if she had watched more closely, been more careful, her daughter would not be missing. Still, Ann had to try.

The confusion cleared from Katherine’s eyes and she looked directly into Ann’s. “I want you to do a press conference for me. Plead with him to help my daughter.” She shuddered visibly. “My husband won’t let me do it. And, quite honestly, I’m in no shape to get in front of a camera.” Hope glittered in her eyes for the first time. “But you can do it.”

Ann definitely hadn’t seen that one coming. “Do you realize how that will expose you and your family to every freak in the state? Maybe even the country?” This was not a sound idea.

“Couldn’t we have one of those hotlines?” Katherine straightened her back and lifted her chin ever so slightly in defiance of the paralyzing emotions glittering in her eyes. “There has to be a way to make this happen, and going to the media is the most efficient method I can think of.”

Ann wouldn’t argue that. She’d already considered that issuing a personal invitation would be the quickest route to getting this guy’s attention. The debate revolved around whether or not this so-called Guardian Angel would respond to the invitation. An attempt to summon him in this manner didn’t feel right. There were other means—the classifieds, online chat rooms.

“This is what I want,” Katherine urged. “Please say you’ll help me. There is no one else.”

Ann glanced at the French doors and the man pacing restlessly on the other side. Tragedy was already tearing this family apart. As much as Ann wanted to help, this was so not a good idea. But if summoning this man the world called the Guardian Angel was the point, she damn sure couldn’t immediately call to mind a more time-efficient way of reaching out to him. “Let me take some time to think about it,” Ann offered. “I’ll discuss the option with Agent Lewis.”

“And he’ll shoot it down,” Katherine rebutted. “I want this done. Today. Before it’s too late.” Tears welled in her eyes all over again. “Don’t let me down, Ms. Martin. Please.”

“I’ll do everything possible to get your daughter back,” Ann assured her as she stood. “I’ll be at the Hilton. You have my cell number.”

“You could make the six-o’clock news,” Katherine pressed as she pushed unsteadily to her feet. “We could have a response by morning.”

“I’ll call you at five,” Ann promised. “We’ll either be doing a press conference at six or I’ll have another option on the table for your consideration.”

That was the best she could do. She offered her hand, but Katherine ignored it. Instead she grabbed her and hugged her hard. “Please,” Katherine whispered. “You’re my only hope.”

The return drive to the city left Ann feeling damned helpless. As if she’d left something back at the Fowler home. Maybe a little piece of herself. She’d thought she had put these extreme anxiety reactions behind her a long time ago. But today had proven that she still had a good deal of work to do before the past was really behind her. Hell, maybe it never would be.

Agent Lewis wasn’t sure his SAC—special agent in charge—was going to be happy about the press-conference proposal. Except for the part about where they might lure the Guardian Angel into a trap. Apparently the Bureau wanted him almost as much as they wanted the people responsible for the Fear Factor abductions. Ann supposed that wasn’t so surprising considering a number of people were dead by his hand.

“What’s your take on the father?” She and Lewis hadn’t really talked about the father yet. The mother was the primary person of interest in the case at this point. But right now Ann needed to know just how much trouble this guy was going to give her. The man was really put out by the involvement of the Colby Agency—Ann in particular. In his opinion, her presence undermined the Bureau’s ability to get the job done.

Lewis considered her question a moment as he took the exit to Aris T. Allen Boulevard. “The man is definitely in a position to generate some unpleasant moments for you. He claims he knows of no one who would want to hurt his family like this. But, hey, you don’t get that high up the food chain without making some powerful enemies. We’re following that avenue as enthusiastically as any other.”

She doubted the latter, but that wasn’t her problem. Leaning her head back, she tried to relax. Speaking frankly with Lewis wasn’t a hardship. She had trusted him when she consulted for the Bureau. She trusted him now. “I’m not sure how I feel about this press conference.” It was not going to go over well with local law enforcement and certainly not with the Bureau.

Lewis shrugged. She took his brief pause as an excuse to study his chiseled profile. They had attempted the dating thing a few times, but work always got in the way. The story of her life.

“I think it could be an excellent strategy.”

That surprised her. “Really? I doubt your superiors will feel the same way.” That was an understatement if she’d ever made one.

Another of those careless shrugs lifted his navy-clad shoulder. He wore the nicer suits, the ones that couldn’t be bought right off the rack.

“A press conference might very well draw the Guardian Angel out of seclusion,” he submitted. “He might just decide to help. And there’s always the chance an announcement like this could scare the unknown subjects who took the girl. If they feel threatened, they might decide Caroline Fowler is too much of a liability to proceed. Anything’s possible, Ann.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it. We’re pretty damned desperate at this point.”

Ann’s tension eased fractionally at his forthrightness and because he didn’t take an immediate stand against the notion of a press conference. Maybe the press conference wasn’t such a bad idea. She could handle it. All she had to do was take this one step at a time and keep that damned looming panic at bay.

Lewis’s cell buzzed.

Ann didn’t have to hear the other side of the conversation to know it wasn’t an enjoyable one. The term dressing-down came instantly to mind. With a firm “yes, sir,” Lewis ended the call.

“Let me guess,” Ann offered. “They’ve heard I’m in town and someone isn’t happy.”

He flashed her a smile that was far more patient than it was amused. “Bingo.”

As Victoria had said, this wasn’t going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination. The Bureau wouldn’t want her involved in any aspect of their investigation. Certainly not in the public eye amidst all the negativity related to law enforcement’s failure to solve a single one of the Fear Factor cases. Not to mention that the Bureau would remember well the last case with which she’d been involved—not one of the associated memories would be pleasant.

“We have a command performance,” Lewis informed her, “with the director.”

Well, well, it sure hadn’t taken Katherine Fowler’s husband long to get the ball rolling. When he’d said he didn’t like this, he’d really meant it.

Chapter Four

Annapolis, Maryland 5:20 p.m.

Kevin Addison was the best public relations agent on the East Coast. But even he, as he had repeated three times in the past half hour, couldn’t perform outright miracles. He needed a face to go with the name quickly becoming a megabuzzword in the electronics world.

Tough luck. That wasn’t happening.

Addison heaved a breath of frustration and settled his gaze on Nathan’s. Nathan Tyler sat behind his big desk, looking exactly like a character from a pirate movie—again, this was according to Addison himself. He loved throwing phrases like that around. Nathan was weary of his attention to this detail.

Addison didn’t get it. This was who Nathan was. Addison would be better served if he would simply get used to it. Nathan wasn’t changing. He wore his shoulder-length dark hair gathered at the back of his neck. His unyielding jaw (as Addison would put it) was shadowed by a day’s beard growth. Nathan dressed as he always did: well-worn jeans and white button-down shirt. All he needed was the eye patch and he would look exactly like a ruthless pirate—again, according to Addison. Every bit as crafty, as well, some would say. And that was exactly the way he liked it. This persona kept the world at bay…which was the point.

“Think, man,” Addison railed. “Those dark, almost forbidding good looks could prove an immense marketing tool. Women love that stuff. A big, strong warrior to keep them safe. Hell, some guys like it, too. We should capitalize on those assets. You’re the top security software creator on the planet. Everybody wants you. That you look as enigmatic as the concept of what you do only makes you more marketable.”

Nathan didn’t allow so much as a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. He sat there, surrounded by his books. This was what he did when he wasn’t flanked by a dozen computer monitors: research. All sorts—people, places, things, activities—and all a waste of time, in his agent’s opinion.

Addison shook his head at his client’s continued silence. “You’re not listening to me.” He rested his hands at the waist of his designer trousers. “It’s almost freaky, Nathan. You don’t have the first hobby other than these damned books and not a single friend, discounting the few employees allowed access to this—” he gestured magnanimously “—fortress. You need to get out. Take advantage of all your wealth affords you.”

Nathan almost laughed at that. If Addison only knew. He had a hobby, all right. One that kept him very busy but that was his secret.

“You can’t hide from the limelight forever,” his agent went on. “The name Nathan Tyler is synonymous with impenetrability. Nothing gets past your systems. Your company just bagged a multimillion-dollar government contract. They’re going to want to see your face, man.”

“No.”

Addison threw his hands up. “That’s perfect. One word. A single gruff syllable.” He pointed an accusing finger at Nathan. “I know you can command a better conversation than this. You don’t do all your talking with computer keys.”

“The answer is still no,” Nathan reiterated, using multiple words and syllables in an effort to convince the man. Or not.

Addison let his chin drop to his chest and swore softly. “Nathan…” He leveled his gaze on his client’s once more. “You have a lame-duck CEO running your company. You have me seeing after your best interests in the media. You have a butler, for Pete’s sake, who does your shopping. Give me a break here. The whole world wants to know the answer to one question—who is Nathan Tyler?”

“Go away, Addison. I won’t change my mind.”

If Addison were an easily intimidated man, Nathan would have had him running for his life with just that laser-beam stare. Addison had told Nathan many times that his icy blue eyes could cut through steel. But Addison was in PR. Sticking his head into the lion’s mouth was a survival skill. He wouldn’t be where he was today if he let the occasional lead-filled gaze or overbearing tone get the better of him. He was determined.

“One of these days, Nathan,” he said, his tone somber now, “someone is going to out you. Why let the enemy choose the time and place when you can take control and do that yourself? Right now.”

“Is that a threat, Addison?”

Nathan knew from the widening of his longtime friend’s eyes that fear had just trickled down his spine like a bead of sweat. That might just be a first. Maybe the boisterous PR agent could be intimidated. Nathan used that lethal air he’d been accused of having the same way he used his appearance—as a means of keeping the select few around him at arm’s length. Made them all wonder if he was friend or foe. Made them afraid to turn their backs—all except Addison, of course. Nathan usually had to settle for exasperating him.

Some sacrifices were necessary for keeping secrets…for survival.

“No. No,” Addison hastened to explain. “You misunderstand my meaning. I’m only saying that nothing stays secret forever. Why not give ourselves the advantage?”

“This conversation is over.”

Addison stood. He knew when he’d gone as far as he could. “All right. I’ll be in touch with you next week to review those press releases.”

Nathan saw no reason to respond to that comment. Idle chatter was not his style.

Addison picked up his briefcase. “Very well. Good evening.”

Addison saw himself out of the seventeenth-century mansion. Dead bolts slid into place behind him. Nathan had designed his own home-security system. Addison insisted that Nathan could make himself a new fortune if he decided to venture into that arena. But Nathan Tyler wasn’t interested. He had all he needed right here in Annapolis’s historic riverfront district. The harbor view was incredible. Despite being nearly four hundred years old, the house was wired with cutting-edge technology and furnished comfortably.

To Addison and the outside world, Nathan appeared to have it all. The only thing missing was the desire to appreciate those assets fully. Addison insisted that Nathan was wasting away behind these ancient walls. Then, each time he dared make such a comment, evidently fearful that he had crossed some unseen line, he would suggest that perhaps he did not understand the creative mind that was both a frightening and fascinating thing.

As long as this relationship continued to make a rich man out of Addison, what the hell was he complaining about?

Nathan picked up the remote on his desk and unmuted the fifteen-inch plasma sitting on the corner of his desk. As usual, the local news channel had overreported what he’d done.

The child was the important element in this story.

Why didn’t they focus on the child? On stopping the predators? Outrage whipped through him, setting his teeth on edge.

They would never learn.

It was when they weren’t looking, weren’t paying attention, that these travesties occurred.

What would it take to wake them up?

He was only one man.

He couldn’t save them all.

He closed his eyes and fought back the images. The horrors that still haunted him even after so many years.

No matter how many children he rescued, he couldn’t make the images go away.

The one he hadn’t saved tortured him the most. Lived inside him, a constant agonizing reminder.

He’d failed.

Even once was too often.

No drug, nothing, would relieve the pain. And he knew. He’d tried them all. He stared at the glass of bourbon waiting patiently on his desk. It didn’t actually relieve the pain, but it made him indifferent to its continued existence for a time. Oh, yes, he’d sampled every imaginable distraction. Nothing had ever given him real peace. Not even for a fleeting instant. Still, he emptied the glass, promptly refilled it, then repeated the process.

That was his cross to bear, as they say. He would just have to deal with it.

Nothing could get in the way of what he had to do. And maybe then, when he’d made the ultimate sacrifice, he would find some margin of peace.

The ongoing press coverage on the screen tugged at his attention once more. Special Agent Carson Bailey stepped up to the podium next. He recognized the man as head of Baltimore field operations. He’d seen him in the spotlight before.

Now this might actually be interesting. The Bureau was usually far less easily impressed with rumors and myths. He was sick to death of hearing the reporters wax on about heroes and saviors and shadows in the night.