A uniformed officer approached him, waving him on.
“Hey, buddy. Move. You can’t park there.”
Richard held out his badge.
“What’s going on?” Silver demanded from the passenger seat, holding up her badge as well.
“Robbery, assault, kidnapping-”
“What? In my building?”
The cop leaned down and gave her a long look. “You live here?”
Something about his tone chilled her. She swung the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Police were milling around, and a crime scene van pulled up behind them as Richard was getting out of the car. Badge aloft, she pushed through the gathered officers and moved into the familiar ground-floor lobby, increasing her pace as she got to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Richard struggled to keep up, until their way was blocked on the third floor by a tall man in a cheap jacket and rumpled slacks.
“Sorry, lady. Crime scene. You can’t come any farther.”
“I live here. Who are you? And what the hell is going on? What apartment got hit?”
He gave her a hard look. “I’m Detective Aaron Baker. Who are you?”
She held up her badge. “Assistant Special Agent in Charge Silver Cassidy. FBI. Now are you going to answer my questions?”
The detective’s face fell. “Cassidy? I think you should probably have a seat over here-”
Silver’s eyes were already looking past him at the crime scene tape across her door. Sarah was seated in the hallway on a chair, a blanket over her shoulders, an ice bag on her face, as another detective spoke with her and a paramedic dabbed at her head.
“What happened?” Silver’s voice had climbed in pitch and had the distinctive edge of panic now. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on here.”
Detective Baker took her arm and led her towards her door. “There’s no easy way to say this, so out of professional courtesy I’m going to level with you. About an hour and a half ago, someone broke into your apartment and robbed it at gunpoint, assaulting the young lady over there,” he gestured at Sarah, “and then kidnapped the girl she was watching. I’m assuming that’s your daughter.”
The world tilted for a second, then Richard’s arms caught her. She felt him steady her as she fought to process the words she was hearing.
“That’s impossible. My daughter? Someone kidnapped my daughter? But she’s only a baby. No. No, you must have it wrong.” Silver began glancing around frantically. This was a mistake. Some kind of horrible mistake. Kennedy couldn’t have been kidnapped. That was ludicrous.
“Agent Cassidy, I know how hard this must be for you. Believe me. I wish it was a mistake. But I’m afraid it isn’t. The girl there has been hit pretty hard and injected with some sort of sedative, so she’s out of it. But we have this right. I’m sorry, but your daughter has been kidnapped.”
Silver grabbed for the wall to steady herself. She heard the words, but inside her head a deafening howl of fear and despair swept through her consciousness.
Richard nodded at the cop, and he stepped back, allowing them to approach the apartment doorway. Silver looked past the little foyer to the computer desk in the living room, where Kennedy would normally have been planted…
She fought to understand how any of this made any sense, but came up empty. “I…why would anyone want to kidnap my daughter?”
They were interrupted by the sound of the forensics techs stomping up the stairs.
“Good evening, Detective,” the female tech said, ignoring Silver and Richard. “Sammy’s downstairs processing the lobby door. I presume the tape is the crime scene?”
“Yes. We’ve tried to keep everyone out. I was inside, as well as the two uniforms downstairs, and the girl over there. Oh, and this is the mother of the kidnap victim,” Baker added as an afterthought. “Special Agent Cassidy, FBI.”
The tech nodded, already losing interest, anxious to get to work in the apartment. Cassidy’s phone rang in her little clutch purse and she fumbled with dead fingers to answer it.
“Silver. It’s Brett. Where are you?”
“I’m at my flat.” Her speech sounded wooden.
“Oh God. I just got the call. I’m en route. Stay put. I’ll be there within half an hour.”
Silver cleared her throat, struggling for composure. “Does anyone know what happened?”
“The details are thin, Silver. But we’ll know more shortly.”
Silver hung up and forced herself to detach and become clinical. After a few minutes regaining control of herself, she approached Baker. The initial shock of adrenaline was wearing off, and she was starting to function again.
“Officer, what do you know about this? Give me the rundown. Who found them? How long do you estimate the kidnapper has been gone?”
“One of your neighbors heard screaming from inside and eventually worked up the courage to knock on the door and see if everything was okay. She tried the knob, and it was open. The babysitter was cuffed on the couch, unconscious. Your neighbor immediately called the police, and the first respondent arrived within twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes? Are you kidding me? It took twenty minutes to get a car here?”
“Look. I’m just telling you the chronology, okay? The guesstimate is that the kidnapper left over an hour ago.”
“What about traffic cams?” Silver demanded.
“They’re being analyzed. Should have something shortly. But you know how busy the streets are — there are a lot of cars that went through those intersections. On a quick scan, it’s a needle in a haystack unless we know what we’re looking for. Sorry.”
Sarah yelped from the other end of the hallway as the paramedic probed the gash in her head with his fingers, and Silver’s attention was drawn to her. She moved down the gloomy corridor until she was standing in front of her.
“Sarah. It’s Silver. Are you okay?”
Sarah peered up at her with glazed, unfocused eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Cassidy. We never stood a chance. It all happened so fast…”
“Can you tell me what happened?” Silver asked gently.
“We were hanging out in the living room, and then suddenly this guy was standing in the room with a gun — we never heard him come in. He said he was going to rob us and tried to inject me with something, but I fought him, and then he hit me. That’s all I remember. When I woke up, your neighbor, Mrs. Lee, was with me. I’m sorry… there was nothing I could do…”
“We need to get you to the hospital and get an X-ray of your head,” the detective said, “make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“No. I can’t. I don’t have insurance.”
Sarah was eighteen, an aspiring actress who worked around the corner at a coffee shop. She’d dropped out of school in her native Virginia when she was sixteen and thumbed her way to New York, where she’d been living hand-to-mouth ever since. Cassidy knew her from the restaurant — she was always sweet, if not particularly bright.
“Don’t worry about it. This one’s on the City of New York,” he assured her.
“What did he look like?” Silver asked Sarah.
“I don’t know. I mean, I know it was a man, but I don’t know much else. He had pantyhose over his head, like one of those robber movies. Kind of freaky looking.”
“What about his clothes? Pants? Jacket? Shoes?”
“He was wearing some kind of construction boots, I think. Those tan kind? And jeans. Baggy jeans…and a brown windbreaker jacket. Kind of cheap-looking stuff, you know? Like thrift shop cheap.”
Silver continued interrogating her, but it quickly became apparent that she didn’t know much more than she’d initially said. Something was nagging at Silver as she listened, though, and she stopped the girl midway through a sentence.
