Kincaid’s Dangerous Game

Who to blame.

“I hate this,” she whispered to Holt, and it seemed so natural now to tell him how she felt, although she’d never done that with anyone else before. “The way they look at you. They make me feel like I’ve done something bad even when I know I haven’t.”

“That just means you have a conscience.”

He, at least, seemed unfazed by the fact that they’d been questioned, together and separately, for several hours. Meanwhile, Holt’s Mustang and cell phone had been gone over with all the diligence the LVPD forensics teams could muster, and their identity documents checked and rechecked. Billie had even volunteered a sample of her DNA to corroborate her claim that she was the missing girl’s biological mother. Which, as Holt had pointed out when she’d told him she was going to do it, could also work against her, since it would seem to give her a motive for kidnapping. Now they were together again, in a small, square room without windows, without much of anything in it except for a metal table and several hard chairs, and the single, unwavering eye of a video camera high in one corner.

“Do you think they believe us?”

“I think they’d like to.” He was sitting relaxed in his chair, arms folded on his chest, and his eyes, resting on her, were calm. “Problem is, we’re all they’ve got. And we’re so perfect for it. Biological mom hires private investigator to find child she gave up for adoption, they go to see the kid, and the next day she’s abducted? Doesn’t get any more perfect than that.” He smiled wryly. “Hell, I’m not even sure I believe us.”

Her lips felt numb; she couldn’t make herself smile back. “But…they’ll check at the airport, won’t they? They’ll ask Tony. He’ll tell them he brought us back here last night.”

“Yes,” Holt said gently, “and I’m sure they’ve already done that. Doesn’t mean we-you-couldn’t have hired somebody like Miley to kidnap your daughter.”

She put a hand over her eyes and whispered, “Oh, God.” After a moment she took her hand away and glared up at the video camera. “They’re probably listening to us right now, aren’t they?”

“Probably.”

“They know I have a rap sheet, I guess…” Her stomach felt raw and sore, and there was a sick, sour taste in her mouth. “From when…I was on the street.” Yes…all the miserable, stupid things I did then, to stay alive. Panhandling, shoplifting, trespassing…but at least-She blurted it out. “I want you to know, I never did drugs. And I never turned tricks.”

He sat up suddenly. Felt as if she’d slapped him. “My God-Billie…”

“You believe me, don’t you?” She stared at him with hot, dry eyes.

The air between them was like a solid thing. He wanted to reach through it to touch her, but it seemed impenetrable. He said huskily, “I believe you. But it wouldn’t matter to me if you had. I’d never judge you.”

“Yeah, you would. And it would matter. You might not think so, but it would. You know why I didn’t?” Her gaze didn’t waver, just seemed to grow hotter and brighter-and at the same time more distant. Like stars. “I didn’t because I figured if I was going to do that I might as well go back home. At least there I’d have food and a warm place to sleep.”

What could he say? The effect of the words and that hot, hard gaze was enough to make him feel cold and shaky clear through to his insides. Staring back at her, he kept seeing all those battered young bodies he’d had to look at, in so many morgues, in so many cities, laid out cold and still with clean white sheets covering the evidence of how cruelly life had treated them. So many without names…All he could do was look at her and hope she’d understand his silence.

After the longest ten seconds he’d ever lived through, she sat back and exhaled sharply.

“Why are they still keeping us in here? They’ve asked us everything they possibly could. What are they waiting for?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I think-” And just then the door opened to admit the Las Vegas detective they’d spent so much time with earlier in the day. Right behind him were the two people Holt wanted most in the whole wide world to see. “I think-” he finished, grinning as he rose to his feet “-for this.”

As he went to greet his visitors, he caught a glimpse of a face gone white as chalk, and he knew then that what scared Billie Farrell-or Brenna Fallon-more than the entire Las Vegas Police Department combined was this moment, and what was about to take place. Meeting this man-Wade Callahan.

My brother.

She had no recollection of having risen to her feet, but she must have. Now she stood with her hands on the tabletop to steady herself and watched them come into the stark little room.

She saw him first-a tall man with broad shoulders and a slightly rumpled look, a face with a rock-solid jaw wearing a hint of beard shadow, close-cropped brown hair and heavily lashed eyes a deep, dark shade of blue. Right now those eyes were frowning and aimed straight at her, even while he was busy shaking Holt’s hand and clapping him on the arm. Then he pushed past everyone else in the room, and tables and chairs, too, and she was swallowed up in the biggest, strongest hug she’d ever known.

Except, unbelievably, that big, strong body was shaking. She could feel the hard edge of his jaw pressed against her head, and her feet didn’t touch the floor as he whispered, “Hey, baby sister. Nice to finally meet you. I’m your brother Wade.”

She didn’t dare speak. Didn’t dare laugh, or even draw breath. She was so fragile, her self-control so tenuous, one word…just one sound…would smash it to pieces.

Then there was a sound, and she didn’t break after all. A soft, almost comical, “Ahem…”

Wade released her with a shaken laugh. “Yeah…all right, I know. Sorry, Tee…” He turned to bring the other person, the woman, forward, although he kept Billie tucked in the curve of his arm. “Hey-I want you to meet my wife. This is Tierney. Tierney…this is my sister Bren-”

“It’s Billie,” Holt said, from somewhere nearby.

The woman was lovely, with tousled blond hair and clear, beautiful blue eyes, so different from her husband’s indigo, and worlds apart from Holt’s hot-cold steel. She had sun-kissed skin, a scattering of freckles and a warm and generous smile. Something about her made Billie think of flowers.

“Hi, Billie,” the blond woman said softly, and held out her hands to take Billie’s. “Friends and family usually call me Tee.” Her hands felt warm…so warm, and Billie realized hers were like ice.

“You read people’s emotions,” she said gruffly. “Holt told me.” She tried to smile. “Guess this must be pretty intense, huh?”

Tierney’s smile blossomed. “Oh, don’t worry-I can block most people’s most of the time.” She gave Billie’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “Think how awful it would be if I didn’t.”

But her eyes held Billie’s for a few moments longer, and…it was the oddest thing. She wasn’t psychic, she was sure of it-at least, she’d never even thought of such a thing before-but suddenly there was a voice inside her head, a voice that wasn’t really a voice at all, more of a feeling, impossible to describe. And in words that weren’t exactly words, but so clear it seemed as if they were words, it was saying, You’re not alone…we love you. No matter what happens, we’re here with you now.

“So,” Holt said, “here’s what we want you to do.”

They were in a small squad room now-Holt and Billie, Wade and Tierney, several members of the Las Vegas Police Department assigned to the kidnapping case, and a couple guys from the FBI. They were scattered among the several desks in the room, some peering at computer screens or talking quietly on telephones.

Holt was sitting on the edge of a desk and Billie was standing in front of him, straight and stiff as a mannequin. He had his hands on her arms, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her in his arms. Wanted to do whatever he needed to do to get that dazed, scared, brave, stoic, frozen look off her face.

“You just need to buy us some time, okay?”

He waited for her nod and a barely audible, “Yeah, sure.”

“All you need to do is to show up for the tournament, hang in for as long as you can. Give us time to find where he’s holding her.”

Her eyes looked flat and hopeless. “How can you? How can they? He could be…She could be anywhere.”

He lowered his voice to a murmur and tipped his head toward the detectives poring over their computers in the room behind him. “These guys know their stuff, and they haven’t been sitting around on their asses. They have