If they hadn’t already.
Shelby made up her mind in that instant. “Come in here, Russ.”
He followed her into her office, his kid leather boots making no sound on the hard tiled floor. Russ was like a panther, he could move faster, quieter, than anyone she’d ever met. His passport might say American, but thanks to his foreign birth and his father’s diplomatic status, he also had more connections than any other agent they employed. Maybe, just maybe…
“I’m quite sure the police wouldn’t appreciate the aspersions you just cast on them, Russ.” She smiled. “But you’ve got a point, and right now I don’t care about what the police think. I want my daughter back. This is where we are so far.” She laid out the sequence of events for him in crisp, concise points, knowing that even though he took no notes, his brain would absorb every detail. When it came to information, Russ’s mind worked like a microcomputer.
“So the police think that because this note was written on our company paper, the abductor is one of us.” He raised one eyebrow. “This is also what you think?”
“I can’t afford to write anyone off. I want my child back. That’s my primary goal here.” She met his gaze, held it. “I won’t lose her, Russ. I will not lose another member of my family. Do you understand me?”
His eyes flickered, lost their clear blue sheen and turned the gray of a Russian blizzard.
“I understand.” His confident voice changed, the inflection soft, entreating. “The death of Grant changed all of us. But I am here to help, Shelby. I would never allow his child to be hurt. Never.” He muttered something unintelligible, probably one of the foreign idioms he often used but seldom explained.
Shelby knew the decision was hers. She could authorize him to go ahead and conduct his search, or she could reject his help. Which probably meant he’d keep right on looking anyway. Russ didn’t give a fig for authority figures. But his search might go faster if she approved it.
Shelby was reminded of Russ’s visit to their home last Christmas, how he’d comforted Aimee with tales of his grandfather and the things he’d done to make Russ’s childhood Christmases special.
He must have seen the decision in her eyes.
“All right. We begin now. You will tell me all, please, Shelby. The police, what have they done?”
She told him what she knew, which wasn’t much.
“Imbeciles.” He kissed his fingers into the wind. “I could get more from a stone. No prints, no tracks, no knowledge of how the security was breached? It is preposterous!” He turned, strode to the door and yanked it open.
“Where are you going? What about these files?” she demanded, frustrated by his whirlwind exit. But then Russ had always ignored the usual routes, had always forged his own way. In the past, Grant had sometimes chastised him for rushing in. But Russ got results. At the moment, Shelby wasn’t about to question him on his methods. That could come later. If he found something.
Russ held the door open with the toe of his boot.
“I do not believe the answers lie in your files, Shelby. But before I know where to begin, I must have more information. I will get it. Now.” He disappeared out the door.
“Well, thanks for the help.” She sighed. Personally she, too, was less than convinced that the abductor was among her staff but she wouldn’t quit until she’d ruled everyone out. It was boring, lonely work that she despised. These were her friends, her coworkers. Or they had been. It seemed disloyal, even hateful to suspect one of them of doing this.
Shelby flopped down in her chair, staring out the window at the fading sun. Her glance landed on the picture on her desk and she picked it up, stared into the cherubic face with its feathery-blond hair, button nose and Grant’s wise eyes.
“Where are you, sweetheart?” she whispered. “Please help Mommy find you.”
She longed to feel those chubby fingers tickle her neck, yearned to hear that high-pitched voice squeal with delight. It had taken so long to accept Grant’s death as part of God’s plan. Even now she still had questions. But taking Aimee, too—surely God didn’t want that?
“I love her so much, God. I want her to come home so we can make our double fudge strawberry peach sundaes.” The tears would not be stopped. “I want her to come home because I don’t think I can look after our butterfly garden without her help. I don’t think I can go on if she’s not there, God. Please send her home.”
The silence in her office was exactly what she’d craved earlier. But now Shelby would have gladly exchanged it for just one of Aimee’s giggles.
“God, you know what’s happening. You know where she is. Please keep her safe. Please don’t let anyone touch—” She gulped down the words, refused to say them. “You love her more than I ever could. Please bring my child back to me.”
Shelby opened her eyes, stared at the beloved face once more. As she did, she felt the band of tension around her heart begin to ease. God knew what she was going through. He understood. In the depths of her mind, she comprehended that He was in complete control of everything that happened to her. But somehow she wished she understood why He’d allowed this.
She remembered Tim’s words. A little bit of faith.
Right now, that’s about all she had.
She replaced the photo and, with a sigh, turned back to the computer. God would do His part. Now it was time for her to do hers.
By the time Shelby had completed the last of the files, the clock on her computer read 10:45. She’d checked in twice with Natalie. No call had come in regarding Aimee’s whereabouts, no ransom call had been made. No note had been delivered, no new evidence reported. Natalie sounded curt, as if she were holding back her temper when she said Russ had dropped by the house. So had Tim.
In an odd way, Shelby understood Natalie’s frustration, knew exactly how she felt. They had all gone over and over the same things. If there had been some tiny clue to latch onto and ferret out, she could sink her teeth into it, bury herself in figuring it out. But there was nothing. Whoever had done this knew exactly what he was doing and had left no trace evidence, no witnesses to their silent departure, not even any footprints in the freshly turned soil below Aimee’s window. Natalie must be as frustrated as she.
For Shelby there was no reason to go home. The house was empty without her daughter. But she did need to rest, shower, change clothes. Besides, if she hung on to that crumb of faith, maybe tonight the nightmare would end.
Reluctant to stop, but well aware that she’d made little progress, Shelby logged off, secured the file with her password and waited while the machine shut down. It seemed to take longer than usual and she made a mental note to have the company technician check for malfunctions. She locked the files in her desk, pocketed the key.
She was almost at the door, about to leave, when a knock halted her actions. Her nerves inched up a notch, though she knew the company’s security system would be on, that no one who didn’t have the correct security clearance would be able to get into the building. But…
“Come in,” she called, fingers clenched around her purse.
“So you are still here.” Daniel stuck his head in. “I’m not sure it’s good for you to be working such long hours your first day back, but I am glad you’re here. Have you got a moment for me?”
She wanted to go home, to see if her faith had worked, if someone somewhere had found out where Aimee was being held. But Daniel’s serious expression stopped her.
“I was leaving, but I can spare a few minutes. Nothing to rush home to,” she tried to joke, then bit her lip.
“We’ll find her, Shel. Just keep hanging on.” He moved toward her, patted her shoulder. “Actually, that’s why I wanted to talk