Keeping my back to the man behind me, I mumble in the microphone tucked under my hair.
“Found him. Looks like an accident.”
“Ten-four,” I hear Janey’s voice in my ear.
“Hey, buddy.” I kneel down beside the pale boy and grab his hand. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Behind me I hear yelling down the line of volunteers, and Agent Kenny’s voice barking our coordinates into his radio. I ignore them and keep my eyes on the child, digging up my water bottle so I can give him a few sips. The kid must be dehydrated.
It takes another hour and a half for EMTs to find us, stabilize Ricky, and carry him out.
“Glad for this outcome.”
I’m watching the stretcher being loaded in the back of the waiting ambulance when the agent steps up beside me. I glance over at him and grin.
Mitch
Wow.
She definitely should smile more.
It would seem I underestimated this woman on more than one front.
I’m not sure what drew my eye to her in the first place, but something about her looked out of place in the group of volunteers. I guess she looked almost too innocent. I’ve been at the occasional search where a volunteer would not be prepared for the kind of scene we found and ended up more trouble than they were worth. Maybe I was afraid this woman would be like that.
Don’t think anyone was as surprised as I was when she took control of her group and, without hesitation, walked ahead to discover the injured boy. She stayed with him, talking to him quietly, and keeping him calm until the medics arrived.
I didn’t believe her when she said this wasn’t her first search, but it’s clear I was wrong. I also thought she looked unremarkable, but now that I’ve seen her smile, I realize I was wrong about that too.
“We should grab a sandwich before they’re all gone,” I find myself saying.
I point to the crowd at the back of a van belonging to a local restaurant kind enough to provide lunch for the volunteers. She looks over and seems to hesitate for a moment before she makes up her mind.
“Sure. I could eat.”
She’s made herself comfortable sitting on the open gate of a maroon pickup truck when I return with a couple of bottles of water and some sandwiches.
“Yours?” I indicate the late-model Silverado, trying to hide my surprise at her choice of vehicles.
“It is,” she says, her mouth tilting up at one side. “Hop on up.”
I set the food and water down before hoisting myself up beside her.
“Nice.” I settle in with a bottle and unwrap one of the sandwiches, sneaking a glance at her. “Name’s Mitch Kenny.” I wipe my hand on my jeans and hold it out.
“Nice to meet you, Mitch,” she says, firmly gripping my hand with her smaller one. “I’m Opal.”
The name seems a bit frivolous. She strikes me as unpretentious and simple, but then she pulls the ball cap from her head and a wealth of hair drops down to her shoulders. Thick, wavy, russet-blond hair you’d want to bury your fingers into. My body involuntarily responds and I quickly focus on my sandwich before I give myself away.
“So, Opal,” I start, after swallowing my bite. “What brought you out today? Are you local?”
When I turn to her, she eyes me with a hint of suspicion.
“Nope. I’m a Kentucky original, but I happened to be visiting Hagerstown when I heard about the boy’s disappearance. I thought I could help.”
“And you certainly did.”
She opts not to respond to that and instead takes a decent bite of her sandwich. Even that suddenly seems appealing. I like a woman with a healthy appetite. One too many times I’ve taken someone to a nice restaurant, only to sit across from them while they play around with a few lettuce leaves on their plate. It’s annoying as hell.
“How long have you been with the CARD team?” she asks in between bites, turning the tables on me.
“2006.”
“Wow,” she says, surprised. “You’re one of the original ones, then.”
She clearly knows more about CARD than most, which I also find intriguing. Few people know what the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team is, let alone the year of its inception.
“I was already with the Crimes Against Children Unit so it seemed like a logical step. Never looked back.”
“Really?” She looks at me dubiously. “It’s gotta take a toll on you, dealing with young victims day in and day out.”
There’s a hint of an edge to her voice.
“That part eats away at you, but each sick bastard we bring down makes it worth it,” I admit.
She nods as if she gets what I’m saying. I’m not sure how she could, since she doesn’t know me from Adam. Even my ex didn’t understand and she knew my history.
“Excuse me?”
One of the guys in the search party—he looks a little like George from Seinfeld but older—walks up, his eyes flitting between Opal and myself.
“Oh, hey. I’m sorry,” she says with a kind smile for the man, “I’m afraid I never got your name.”
“James. Look, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to thank you again for the water.”
He avoids looking at me, which is probably good because I’m afraid my annoyance at the interruption may be showing. A sharp whistle draws my attention and I look up to see one of my teammates wave me over. Reluctantly, I slide off the tailgate and turn to Opal.
“I’ve gotta run.” I hold out my hand to her and she places her palm against mine. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Opal. And thanks again for your help today.”
I give the guy a nod and just as I start walking toward my team, I hear him say, “Opal, care for some company?”
It’s probably for the best. Despite my initial impression of a plump, somewhat frumpy-looking woman, Opal managed to surprise me in ways that had my libido sit up and take notice. Apparently, I’m a sucker for smarts and confidence, and this woman has both in spades. The truck, the abundance of hair, and the sharp gray eyes only add to her appeal.
Any more time spent with her might’ve proven to be a distraction, and I have a job that requires my full attention.
“We need to roll out,” Matt Driver informs me when I join my team. “Just got a call. We caught another one. Sixteen-year-old female in Huntington, West Virginia. Left work at the local Walmart last night around eight thirty, but never made it home. Feed from one of the store’s surveillance cameras caught her being forced into an old cargo van in the rear parking lot.”
I check my watch. It’s one thirty, she’s been gone for seventeen hours; it’ll take us at least another five on the road.
That’s a lot of fucking hours in the hands of a predator.
“Let’s go,” I confirm, swinging my pack on my back and jogging to the black, Bureau-issued Expedition.
Right before I climb behind the wheel, I throw one last look over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of russet-colored hair.
Then we roll.
TWO
Opal
“We need more people.”
“We’ve been over this.”
I grin as Raj rolls her eyes at me.