Kidnapped At Christmas

She walked back through the alcove into the office. The smell of wet paint still lingered in the air. Hermes had graffitied two walls, one with a warning message and the other with a huge, crude bird. Quickly she took a picture of both with her tablet and uploaded them to the ATHENA database on the Torchlight News server. Then she slipped back onto the balcony just long enough to zero in on Hermes’s face as Joshua held him pinned waiting for the police. She saved that picture too. As long as she had computer access and her Torchlight password she could access ATHENA no matter where she was in the world. Then she grabbed an electronic stylus pen and started for the stairs.

Questions burned in her mind. She paused on the second-story landing, opened a fresh document on the tablet and jotted them down with the stylus, using them like an electronic pen and paper, just as if she was sitting in the corner of an editorial meeting listening to a reporter talk about their big new exposé. Why would Magpie send a graffiti artist to break into Torchlight News and scrawl a warning on the wall the same day they kidnapped a journalist? Why do both? Vandalism was vile, yes, but if a reporter was pitching this story in an editorial meeting, methodical Samantha would have pointed out that threats usually escalated in severity. That is: normally the warning came first, then the attempted murder.

She wrote “Does Magpie have a vendetta against Torchlight?” in block letters at the top of the page and underlined it twice. No doubt Olivia would get every single journalist at the newspaper to report in on what they were working on. Maybe the mysterious Magpie would emerge from there and the paper would know what it did to land on Magpie’s radar.

She crossed the second-floor landing and froze. Olivia’s office door was ajar. She could hear the creak of someone’s weight shifting on the old office floorboards and computer keys clacking. There was somebody else in the building. Her heart raced through her chest, so suddenly she found herself battling to breathe. Were the police in there already? But if so, wouldn’t they have announced their presence? The door swung open quickly. She was face-to-face with a stranger. He was short, in plain clothes and probably forty, with a square face and a red baseball cap.

And familiar. So very familiar. And she didn’t know why.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

The man hesitated. Then suddenly he lunged for her tablet computer and tried to yank it from her hand.

“Drop it!” he shouted.

Was he kidding?

“No! Get out of here! The police are on their way!” Her grip tightened on the tablet. For a moment, she thought he was going to succeed in pulling it from her hands. But then, while all his body strength was focused on the tablet, she kicked him as hard as she could. He swore and let go. She yanked the tablet back, hearing the edge of the case crack as she wrenched it from his hands. She ran down the stairs to the ground floor, panicked tears building in her throat.

“Joshua! Help!” She grabbed the front door handle, Joshua’s name escaping her lips even before she could finish yanking it all the way open. “There’s another intruder in the building!”

“Ma’am! Get away from the building!” Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the door. Samantha looked up into the face of a senior officer whose hair was tied back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Half a dozen more officers rushed past them into the building. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

“I’m... I’m fine. Thank you, Officer. But there’s a man in the building. Second floor. He’s short and wearing a red baseball cap. I don’t know if he’s armed.” Samantha looked around. Police vehicles and people in uniform seemed to be spilling down the streets in both directions.

But she couldn’t see Joshua anywhere.

FIVE

Half an hour later she was sitting alone in the small, quirky café across the street from the Torchlight News offices, watching the foam swirl in the top of her coffee and trying not to wonder where Joshua was. Was he being questioned by police? Had something happened with Hermes? He wouldn’t have just taken off without saying goodbye. She was certain of that. Well, almost certain. After all, it wasn’t like he’d signed up to do anything more than give her a ride back to Toronto. Even that he’d only done because she’d suddenly landed on the doorstep in danger. She sighed. Truth was, there was so much data she simply didn’t have on the man. Despite the odd effect he seemed to have on her heart.

Sprigs of holly and pine bows curved along the window frame. Her coffee smelled like nutmeg and cinnamon. She held the side of the mug tight with one hand, feeling the comforting heat of the ceramic seep into her palm. With the other, she idly ran an electronic stylus along the computer tablet. She’d let the officer who’d questioned about the break in look it over. But with all of ATHENA’s data saved on Torchlight’s online server, there wasn’t much saved on the actual tablet to look at, and she knew her job well enough to know she didn’t have to relinquish it without a warrant. Fortunately, the officer seemed satisfied to let her keep it.

Slowly she sketched out everything she could remember about the second-floor intruder, using the pieces of her memory like puzzle pieces. The lines of his square, clean-shaven jaw. Deep-set eyes. The shape of a holster on his hip. She focused on every tiny detail she could remember. The two kidnappers and Hermes may not have sparked anything in her mind, but there was something about this snoop that was familiar and she was going to figure out what.

Where have I seen your picture before, stranger? What did you want with my tablet?

Are you Magpie?

Bells jingled and clattered as the café door opened, bringing a gust of cold air in with it. She looked up, embarrassed at just how much part of her hoped to see Joshua standing there.

“Olivia!” Samantha jumped up as a woman with flame-red hair and a voluminous white scarf crossed over to her table. Even dressed in a tracksuit without any trace of makeup on her skin, the Torchlight editor seemed to beam with both happiness and confidence. Samantha gave Olivia a gentle hug, and was surprised at how strong her embrace was in response. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be home with the baby!”

“She’s with Daniel.” Olivia unwound her scarf and dropped into the seat farthest from the window. “Police needed someone from Torchlight to come in and confirm the state of things. Our apartment is only a few blocks from here and to be honest we really needed a walk.” A tired but genuine smile crossed her lips. “We finally decided on a baby name by the way—Abigail Rose.”

“It’s beautiful.” Samantha sat down opposite her. Olivia leaned her arms on the table and squeezed her hands.

“How are you doing?” Olivia asked. “Are you holding up okay?”

There was an understanding in her voice that tugged at something deeper inside Samantha, reminding her that there were times others in the Torchlight family, including Olivia herself, had faced criminals, danger and threat of death to get the story. I’m okay.” Samantha squeezed her back and let go. “Not great. Still kind of shaky. But I’m okay. Thank you for asking and understanding.”

“Do you remember Theresa Vaughan?” Olivia asked. “We did an article on her a few months back. She’s a therapist and counselor, who does a lot of work with Victim Services.”

Samantha nodded. “I think so.” The woman Joshua had mentioned. Why did her thoughts keep turning to him?

“I gave her a call about what happened to you today. She and I have talked in the past about running something for the staff. She’s willing to meet with you before you leave town. She’s really good at helping people sort out their memories and feelings about trauma.”

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