Chapter twenty seven, Ryan Present. Ryan jerks the phone away from his ear and with shaking fingers, jabbed at the call end button. Shit shit, shit, he says out loud, staring at the blue wallpaper on his cell phone screen. He slams his elbows on the desk and places his head in his hands. He runs his palms up and down his face, pulling his cheeks down towards his chin. Ryan has been back in d C for only
two days and was just returning to his office when Harry called him. Harry never calls him only if there's bad news, and today it is bad news the worst. All of the years Ryan has been going to Peach Springs have been in secret. He has never let Harry or Hannah know that he is there. He would have liked to have seen Harry and Hannah, but he found it too awkward to explain his visits to them. He assumed his brother and his wife would think he was some sort of pervert, or that he
was putting Nicole in danger by being there. So Ryan kept out of the way, kept quiet, kept to himself until the other night, when he got in the bar fight. He hoped Nicole hadn't told Hannah and Harry about that. But if she had, Ryan supposed there was nothing he could do about it besides get ready to field some tough questions from his brother and his wife. Now none of this matters. The only thing that matters is finding Nicole. He knows that son of a bitch Senator Hernandez is behind this,
but Ryan had no clue he had gotten out of jail. His worry turns to anger and then to rage, and he stands up, gripping the partition of his cubicle so hard that it almost topples over. Ryan addresses the whole room of agents, but no one in particular. Who the fuck forgot to mention that Senator Wetback is out of prison. Ryan slams his right fist on his desk as he speaks, who is it? The room goes silent,
and all the agents turn to look at him. At the other end of the room, Ryan sees Sam spin around in his chair to face him. He looks up at Ryan with a grimace and a frown. Hey, buddy, just relax. Sam starts, but Ryan slams his fist down again, this time on the cubicle wall. It shakes and wobbles. Buddy, relax, he retorts in disbelief. You have got to be fucking kidding me,
Sam, you knew about this. Sam stands up and begins walking toward Ryan, arms out in a peacemaking gesture, but Ryan is already rounding his desk and coming at his partner. He stops just before he reaches Sam in the middle of the room, with all of the agents still staring, Ryan, who is a few inches taller than Sam, looks down at him, their noses almost touching. We just found out the other day there was talk of him getting out for good behavior, and one of his contacts must have expedited
the process. We didn't know anything until he was already out. Ryan takes his palm and places it hard on Sam's chest pushes him. Sam stumbles back, almost crashing into the desk behind him, and no one thought to tell me. Ryan glares at Sam. My case, my fucking case, unbelievable. Sam straightens and takes Ryan by the bicep attempts to lead him into the conference room at the back of the office. Ryan shakes his arm out of Sam's grasp, but begins to calm down. He listens as Sam continues to
talk. Look, we can either do this here. You can fight me in the middle of the office waste time, or we can go back there and talk it out. Figure out what needs to be done. Up to you. Sam shrugs his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. Ryan blows out of breath and runs his hands over his face again. He needs to find out where Nicole is, so he moves toward the conference room, all of the agents watching him. Go. Let's go, he says impatiently
to Sam, who takes off at a jog behind him. Ran pushes through the conference room doors and sees two agents sitting at the table deep in discussion. Out. Ran yells at them, holding the glass door open behind him, get the fuck out. The agents scrambled to collect their papers, stand up and round the conference table, exiting the room with looks of surprise on their faces. Ran slams the door behind them. What happened, Sam, Why didn't I know about this, Ryan says, wasting no time. We
just found out yesterday. He'd been out for a few hours before that. Who's wee? Cassock and Miller? They told me? Why didn't they tell me? Sam pauses We know you're very involved in the case. We didn't want you to do anything stupid. We were going to tell you. We just wanted to let it simmer for a while. It was my case, Sam. Ryan is exasperated, now, yelling in Sam's face. It was our case. Sam replies calmly, it was our case. And now you
know now you're up to speed. Well it's too late, because something has happened to Nicole. If I had known about this, this never would have happened. So that's on you, guys. Ryan clenches and unclenches his fists. What happened? A look of worry crosses Sam's face. Nicole is missing. That's what happened. I am sure there's an explanation. Isn't she a teenager? Teenagers go missing all the time, run away? Ryan snorts at Sam's ignorance. Teenagers don't go missing or run away all the time. And
she's not a goddamn teenager. She's twenty eight. Sam looked surprised that Ryan knows her exact age. Ryan takes a deep breath as he tries to control his anger. Nicole is missing. My brother called me to tell me that they found her. Truck on the side of the road, right by the trailer park with the doors wide open. Her purse and cell phone were still in the car, and the keys were in the ignition. Does that scenario sound like a twenty eight year old ran away to you? He pauses,
letting the words sink in. Or doesn't. Maybe sound like the psycho who has been trying to kill her and her family for years, who just got out of prison, has found her and abducted her. Which would you say, Sam? Sam brings a hand up to his mouth and nibbles on a thumbnail and nervously fiddles with his belt with the other. After a few seconds pass, he claps Ryan on the shoulder and pushes him out of his way.
I'm going to get Cassock and Miller stay right here. Sam returns two minutes later with Ethan Cassock and Tate Miller, their bosses at the agency. Ethan carries a sandwich as if he was in too much of a rush to put it down. The two men look at Ryan. What do we got, says Miller. Ryan explains the situation again, giving the three men what little information he knows. Can we get intel or tracking on the Senator Cassock asks, when Ryan finishes, pretty tough, Sam says, and besides,
I'm sure some of his guys have got her. The Senator is not going to do that himself. Can we get a check on the family too, Miller says, the wife, the daughter. I'll get Green on that right now. Cassock volunteers leaving the conference room. Let's get their cell phones tracks see where they last paying two. Miller shouts after Cassock got it. Cassick yells, already halfway to Green's desk. The mom, the sister, Martin. Sam says to himself, ticking off his fingers as he says, the
name you said, Harry found Icole's phone right. Ryan nodds, so we can't trace that. Sam drops off. Suddenly a yell comes from out in the office. It is Cassock waving them over to Green's desk. Matthew Green is one of the technology gurus at the agency. He is one of many, but at twenty five years old, is the youngest, best and brightest.
Ryan, Sam and Miller are at the desk in seconds. Matthew points at the screen in front of him, where there are four maps on which three red dots blink, So these Green addresses the men that have crowded around him. These are Jessica, Martin, and Lisa. While their cell phones at least it seems that Nicole's is maybe off because I can't get a read on it. He types a few quick keystrokes, and one of the dots pulses red rays, blinking from it. The other remains still. As you
can see, they are no longer blinking. These are Martin, Lisa, and Jessica. Green slowly drags his finger across the screen, indicating which phone belongs to whom. What does that mean? Miller asked, voicing what everyone is thinking. That means. Green pushes a few more buttons as the dots get larger. We don't know where they actually are, because their cell phones seem to all be in one place, and I don't believe all of them are together. The four of them look at each other in disbelief. But
do you think the senator has all four of them? Green answers, yes, I think it's likely he has all four of them in another location and they are not with their cell phones. How likely is it that they all just have powered down their phones or the batteries have died. Not very Green admits, spinning around in his chair to face the four. We've already sent out a team in Florida to check on Martin and the wife, and another one in New York to check on the sister. We'll have their reports in
minutes. Do we know whether the Senator is still here in DC? Miller asks. Cassock speaks up next. Our guys have minimal intel that he is. Yes, minimal intel, Ryan mocks him. You have got to be joking, Ryan, We're working on it, Cassock says, folding his arms. We've got everyone with any information. It's not good enough. Ryan says, leaning over Green's chair and staring at the screen, as if the red dots can help him solve the case. We've got one girl abducted, possibly
three more in danger. That's poor, guys, This one is on us. Sam looks shaken. Cassock's phone starts to ring, lighting his pocket. He reaches for it, shoving it up to his ear. Yeah, he says into the receiver. He is then quiet for ten seconds. You're sure, he asked, looking toward the back wall, no expression on his face. Okay, then yeah, get them down there as soon as possible. I want reports every ten minutes. Yeah. He presses a button to end
the call and turns to look at the group. That was our Florida team. They found Lisa Walker in her pool. She's been dead about three days, they think from the initial assessment. Holy shit, Sam says, dead from what Ryan asked, sure as shit wasn't natural causes she was murdered. Martin Miller asked, he's not there. The guys haven't found any sign of his phone either. The daughter Miller continues, still waiting for my guys to
call me. Ryan pauses to look out the window at the deepening dusk outside the station. There's a colorful sunset on the horizon, but Ryan is too distracted to notice. Is there any other way we can track any of them, he asked Green. Not unless they got a chip in him. Green responds, whirling in his chair back toward his computer. He begins pressing more keys. I mean, i'd need coordinates or ID numbers on some sort of microchip, then I could do it. Green keeps playing with the keyboard,
deftly pressing keys, his fingers working furiously. Suddenly a thought comes to Ryan. He thinks back to when he went to get Nicole all those years ago in the mansion outside of DC, before he drove her thousands of miles to safety, or what he thought was safety. Ryan shakes his head, trying to clear the negative thoughts away, and focuses on the task at hand.
Her father had whispered a strange series of numbers in his ear. Ryan had put them out of his mind for decades, but had never forgotten them. He had thought they were some cryptic code, the murmurings of a man who had recently lost it all and may have been slipping away into depression or madness. But what if, after all this time, what they really were was a way to find his daughter, should she ever be in trouble. Coordinants that were a path that led to Nicole. It's worth a shot, Ryan
thinks. It's not like any of them have anything else to go on. Fourteen nine three, fifteen twelve five. He whispers, what sam ass nothing? Ryan continues, never mind look green for coordinates for a micro chip or a locating device, homing or whatever to find someone. How many numbers would there be? Green, still typing honest computer answers without looking back for ID numbers on like people or animals nine eleven or fifteen? Damn. Ryan Smacks's
hand on the back of Green's chair. Why Green ass still looking at his computer? Never mind? Ryan is frustrated and time is running out. The longer Nicole is missing, the worse it could be her biological mother is already dead, murdered in her own pool. So much for that, Ryan secretly chides himself for being so stupid. Of course, Martin Walker would never have
been that smart, never would have anticipated this happening. The man is a complete narcissist, greedfield idiot who cared nothing for his wife or two daughters. Ryan stares at Green's fingers as they continue to fly across the keyboard. Except for, like twenty years ago, there were five numbers. Ryan stops in disbelief at what he just heard. He cocks his head to the side and quietly, hopeful addresses the tech guy. What did you just say, Ryan
asked. Green spins around in his chair, looking irritated. I said, except for, like twenty years ago, there were only five numbers on ID chips. They only needed that many back then. Ryan feels a surge of elation in his chest. He feels his heart pounding faster, and he lunges forward to a scrap of paper on Green's desk. Picking up a pen, Ryan hastily scribbles the five numbers on the piece of paper. Here, he
exclaims, proudly, thrusting the piece of paper into Green's hands. Those numbers, He jams a finger at the piece of paper on the desk, motion making a tapping sound on the wood. Could those numbers be coordinates for a microchip from twenty years ago? It would have been about twenty four years ago. Actually. Green looks down to peer at the numbers until his head is almost resting on the desk. Suddenly, he snaps his head up triumphantly.
Sure could, he says, turning back toward his screen and starting to type. Let me just see what comes up here? What are those cassock ass pointing toward the paper? There are numbers or coordinates that I think will help us find. Nicole, Ryan answers, Yeah, makes sense, Nicole Green pipes up right, Nicole dumb ass, Sam responds, rolling his eyes. No, dumb ass, Green retorts, stopping typing to give Sam an exasperated look. Nicole n I O l E. He holds up the scrap of
paper, waving it in Sam's face. The letters to numbers thing oldest code in the book. Sam gives him a blank look. Ryan thinks about what Green is saying, and then it hits him. The numbers, when matched up to the corresponding letters of the alphabet spell Nicole. Ryan gives a start wondering how he could have been so stupid. That's it. Ryan feels a rush of adrenaline. Isn't that a really long time for a microchip to ping? I mean, twenty four years with the thing still work? Miller asks
it could Green answers, especially if it was never used that much. These things are powerful. We're built to last over the years. Plus our technology is so much better now. If this thing stood the test of time, we could be pinging in just a minute. Green trails off and pushes a few more keys on the keyboard. He sits back, his fingers steepled, waiting. All of the men wait, crowding around the computer screen. Suddenly, a little red dot appears on the screen, its bright red rays beaming
and circles around it. The dot remains in one place, hovering over what looks like miles of expansive lawn. We got it, Green exclaims, putting his hands under his head and pulling himself forward to again furiously clack away at the keyboard. She's where is she? Miller asks, phone already to his ear, ready to get a team to the location. It looks like. Green stops talking and moves closer, zooming in on the green lawn. On the green. On the map in front of them is what looks like an
old warehouse, now dilapidated. Yeah, it's Green continues, Oh I know what this is. Miller yells to him, phone to his ear, coordinates. Give me the latitude and longitude so I can get my guys there. Green gives him the numbers. Sam, Miller and Cassocks scramble around, heading for the doors, beckoning to Ryan, Hey, Ryan, you coming man, Sam asked, We gotta get out there. Yeah, I'll be there, Ryan responds quickly. He turns to Green. Where are we going?
Looks like a huge lawn. That's because it is, Green responds. It's the building that used to be the old clubhouse at the way far end of the course. It's all run down now, perfect place to hide something or someone. It's where they keep the old golf carts creepy? But where is she? Where's Nicole? Ryan yells over his shoulder as he takes off toward the door, following Sam just off River road Way far back in the woods
the Old Congressional Country Club, Chapter twenty eight. Freedom present. When she wakes up, she feels an incessant pounding radiating from the top of her head all the way down to her jawbone. Freedom rolls her neck and tries to focus on what she sees in front of her. She blinks three times until her eye is clear and she can remember where she is. It is dark, but Freedom can still make out forms and shapes. To her right is
Jessica, tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth. Freedom catches her eye and sees the fear as her sister's head shakes back and forth. Jessica then cocks her head in front of her, signaling Freedom to look at what she is seeing. Freedom turns to the left and lets out a muffled scream. A tall man with silver hair is standing over a body. As Freedom looks closer, she sees the bodie is that of our father Martin. He is crumpled twisted into himself in a heap on the ground. Freedom cannot
see his face. It is against the floor and turned the other way. She is glad because by the amount of blood she can see coming out of the top of his head. Freedom doesn't think it would be good. The pool of blood widens. The red goose slowly creeping toward the line of golf carts. Her real father is dead, Freedom thinks with horror, and she is probably next. At the horrific thought, Freedom screams again at the sound.
The man with the silver hair turns toward her. Out of the corner of her eye, Freedom can see Jessica wiggling in her chair, eyes wide with fear, her screams muted by the tape around her mouth. The man with the silver hair smiles, hands his gun to one of the men, whose face is still covered by the bandana, and slowly walks towards Freedom. Freedom stopped screaming and writhing. She closes her mouth and sits still in the chair. She looks up at him defiantly. The man laughs louder, this
time, throwing his head back. You look just like your father with that face, he exclaims, almost jubilantly. Taking his forefinger and tucking it under Freedom's chin. With the force of his finger, he lifts Freedom's face up until the back of her head almost touches her back. The man leans down to look into her face. Do you know, he begins his Spanish accent, thick. Do you know? I knew you when you were a little girl, just a little nina. You were so pretty back then. What
the hell happened? He flicks his finger up towards his own face, causing Freedom's neck to snap farther back. I had heard you were living in the desert on some Indian reservation. Do you know that I also used to live in the desert in California? And before that, my father and mother lived in the desert in Mexico. The man pauses, as if to collect his thoughts. It is almost a minute before he continues, a faraway look in
his eyes. And up until three days ago, I lived in a little tiny cell in a jail, a federal prison, with a toilet and a hard bed, with no mattress and nothing else, nothing at all, for two decades, two decades, He yells, looking from Jessica to Freedom, as if to elicit sympathy from them. Jessica looks away from him, but Freedom stares. Do you know what it is like living in this federal prison? It is hell? No money, no women, no good food.
The man pauses again, thinking and then gestures towards the first kidnapper. At his signal, the man brings back the gun and places it in the man's hands. The man plays with it absent mindedly, spinning it around and around on his finger. He continues, there is nothing, he spats angrily, no family, no friends, no drugs. At the word drugs, he takes off toward the kidnappers, who have spread out lines of cocaine on the
bench of one of the golf carts. Leaning down into a squatting position, he takes a straw from one of the kidnapper's hands and does two lines, sniffing and shaking his head. He suddenly stands up again, presses his nostrils between his thumb and forefinger. He begins pacing up and down next to the golf carts, talking to himself. The man stops and turns to Freedom, who still does not move. And do you know he is almost yelling? Now, do you know that it was your father, your father who let
me rot in jail for two decades. I was a United States Senator, and I went to jail because of your scum sucking Ejo de puta father. The man stops pacing and looks up to the ceiling. He is sweating now, his skin glistening in the ever darkening room. To her left, Freedom catches sight of a flash. It looks to her like a movement someone running past the door at the far end of the warehouse. The door is only open a crack, so Freedom cannot see much, but a second later there
is another flash. This time it is black, like a CoP's uniform. Freedom strains to listen for any sounds by the door, but anything she might be able to hear is drowned out by the senator's rantings. As he continues to talk, he moves closer and closer to Freedom, still holding the gun. When he gets to her, he stops and smiles again. The man cocks the gun and holds it against Freedom's head, tilting it downward so that it is flush against the crown of her head. Freedom winces, whimpering as
she feels the cold metal brush against her skull. Jessica cries out through her duct tape in a flash. The Senator pulls the gun away from Freedom's head, laughing again, and walks toward Jessica. Silly girl, I am not going to kill you, he says to Freedom over his shoulder. I still need you because the money your father hit is in your name. It is she that I do not need. The Senator whips the gun out from behind his back and this time presses it against Jessica's skull. Don't, Freedom cries
out, She is my sister, please. She trails off as she hears it. The sound of the door at the back of the warehouse flinging wide open. Late evening daylight floods into the room, brightening it until Freedom can make out a dozen men in uniform, shields up, guns drawn, and are all yelling at once. Freedom squints against the sudden light in the room. Sounds are coming from all directions, a garbled mess of different words.
As the men gesture and yell, forming a semicircle around Jessica, Freedom and the senator. The two kidnappers draw their guns, shouting to each other and the senator. The officer closest to her, takes a step in her direction until he is Flushed with Freedom, he speaks, yelling at the Senator, his guns steady in his hand, hands up. He yells, his jaw clenching and unclenching, the muscles in his lower face, straining get down on
the ground. Freedom recognizes his voice. She looks up. It is Glasses. Drop the gun. Another man yells, we have you surrounded. The senator looks to the uniformed officers in front of him, and then to the back where the kidnappers stand, guns still drawn swelta tous armas the men look at each other confused and slowly dropped their guns on the warehouse floor. Two of the uniformed officers run toward them and wrestle them to the ground, pinning
their arms back around. Jessica, still squirming, looks at Freedom. She mouths stay still. Jessica nods and stops moving. The officers approached Jessica and the Senator, still yelling, and the senator cocks his gun. In a split second, Glasses is moving, pulling his gun arm up and shoots the reverberation, causing Freedom to duck in terror, her head moving toward her lap.
She hears a scream come from the Senator. Freedom looks up, one eye open and sees him crumpled to the ground, blood spilling out of his head. Five men move up to surround the senator, and they move to the ground and Freedom loose the sight of the man. Glasses reaches for his walkie talkie that is clipped to his side. He needs a bust to their location. She can hear him talk into it quiet but forcefully. He places the walkie talkie back at his side and looks down to Freedom, staring into
her eyes. You okay, he asked her, squatting down to untie her hands, Yeah, I think so, Freedom answers her hands. Finally free, She can hear Jessica crying thankfully as other officers move to untie her. Freedom gives her a smile across the warehouse. Jessica catches her eye and mouths thank you. Freedom looks up to Glasses back in action on the walkie talkie,
barking orders into the mouthpiece. She jerks her head toward Jessica, a blanket around her, clutching a cup of what Freedom assumes must be water. That's my sister, she says proudly to Glasses and everyone else, and to no one in particular. That's my sister, she says, quietly, this time mostly to herself. I know, lucky girl, Glasses says, handing Freedom her own water. Freedom gulps at the water running down her chin. You saved me, she says, taking one more gulp, looking up at
Glasses again and smiling. Glasses looks down at her as chaos ensues in the warehouse. The next moment, he is sitting beside her, the walkie talkie still blaring out of his left hip. He holds out his right hand straight as an arrow and looks into her eyes. I'm Ryan, he says, grasping Freedom's hand and holding it in a grip. Freedom gives a small laugh before responding, tucking the cup in between her legs. I'm Nicole, she answers. Nice to meet you. Finally, Glasses gives a nod of recognition.
Yes you are. You save me, Freedom tries once more, as Ryan begins to help her up from the chair, securing her under his arm. Thank you, she whispers as they head toward the exit, walking slowly toward the light outside the door. It's my job, Ryan answers, pulling her safely against him. Chapter twenty nine, Nicole present. She points the white truck west, watching as the puffy clowns gather in the sky in front
of her. The air is heavy and damp, and it feels like it might rain, but for now it is still clear and the sun is out dropping slowly on the horizon. She rolls down the window and sticks her hand out, feeling the rush of air against her arm. The truck was the only thing she kept that reminds her of Peach Springs. Harry and Han had offered to chip in some money to buy her a new car, but Nicole had chosen to keep the truck. Harry and Hannah had bought a new one.
They all have some more money now. Most of the money that was in the bank account under Nicole's name had gone to payback some of Martin's investors in restitution that Ryan had arranged it so that Nicole and Jessica received a small sum enough to live on for a while. At least. Jessica had gone back to New York after countless interrogations and after giving testimony at the trial. Martin, Lisa, and the Senator were dead, but the Senator's two henchmen
had been put away for life. Nicole had stayed with Ryan and DC for a few months after the kidnapping, but had finally made her way back to Peach Springs to say goodbye to the kids and Harry and Hannah. They were sad to see her go, but understood that she needed to. It was time or a fresh start. Ryan had gone back to work, and so had Jessica back to finish law school. When she left, she promised them both she would stay in touch and let them know her plans. In fact,
Jessica is calling her now. Nicole sees her phone light up and her sister's name on the screen. Nicole swipes at the ignore call button and places both hands back on the wheel. She will call her back when she crosses the state line. She doesn't know where she is going. Maybe California is
her end destination, maybe Oregon or Washington State. Nicole is not sure, but she is going to see the country that month, she knows, probably take a waitressing job somewhere in nowhere, USA, rent a little place, makes some friends, live life. That is as far as she's gotten, and she is okay with that. She is looking forward to being on her own. As the first drops of rain begin to fall, Nicole smiles and turns on her windshield wipers. The road stretches out in front of her,
the trunks wheels steady and straight. She pulls out her cigarettes and lighter and lights one, letting the rain into the car. As she blows smoke out the open window. She adjusts the rear view mirror and then looks ahead out the windshield, thinking how strange it is that what is behind her and what is in front of her is one and the same. Freedom