Taken

  “What do you think is in the box?”

  “That depends on whether Flynn has been here in the last few years.”

  “Let’s go find out.”

  The bank was on Main Street. He parked at the curb next to a bench and flagpole. The breeze fluttered the flag above them as they walked up the sidewalk to the bank entrance. “Let me do the talking, please,” Shannon requested.

  It was a small bank: a counter with three teller windows, two employees with desks just off the lobby, and three private offices opposite the entrance. Two tellers were working the counter at the moment. A sign indicated their vault and safe-deposit boxes were located to the left.

  Shannon moved to the first free teller. She set a key on the counter and smiled. “I’d like to access a safe-deposit box, please. Number 917.”

  “Could I see some ID?”

  “Sure.” Shannon pulled out a change purse from her canvas bag and offered a driver’s license.

  “Thank you, Ms. White. I’ll meet you back at the vault. Will you require a privacy booth today?”

  “Yes.”

  The teller nodded. “One moment while I get the keys.”

  Signing the check-in card, handing over the key, getting the box retrieved and brought to one of the two privacy booths took five minutes. Shannon turned the check-in card so Matthew could see that the name above hers was dated three years ago and was illegible. “You want to open the box?” Shannon offered when they were alone.

  Matthew nodded toward it. “Go ahead.”

  She lifted the lid. The box held a slightly bulky nine-by-twelve-inch manila envelope. “Good, it’s still here. Flynn’s emptied this box, I think, as I would have expected to find something of his, if only a few cigars. That envelope is mine, my handwriting, my real name—can I have it? I know what it contains.”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled out the envelope, unwrapped the thread tie, slid out the contents. A well-worn small book, covered in blue fabric, with a date embossed on the corner in gold script. It was eleven years old.

  “My diary, from the month I was taken. I had it in my backpack in the car. They let me keep it.” She was quiet for a long moment, then glanced over, met his gaze, and held the volume out to him. “You should probably read this.”

  He accepted it, but she didn’t release her hold. “I have two conditions: I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want you to give it to the cops unless I make the decision to do so.”

  He knew the implications of what she was offering. “Agreed.”

  She closed the safe-deposit box. “This was a casual drop site. Flynn would use it for his personal business matters. He’d occasionally store things for me—a diary, small objects that had some sentimental value.”

  They left the bank together. She said, “You can have someone find out who paid the safe-deposit box storage fees and pull the signature cards, but I can tell you right now the inquiries will lead to a dead end. And just looking may trip an alert he has set up. Don’t pursue this location just yet. You’ll have numerous other storage locations to unwrap soon enough.”

  “I trust your judgment, Shannon.” Rather than head to the car, he pointed to a corner store to get a fountain drink to take along. “Is there anything else around this area we should investigate today?”

  “No. Let’s get back to town for the cookout. Unless you’ll let me back out.”

  “They’re friendly people,” he assured her. “I think you’ll be glad you went tonight, but I’m not going to insist.”

  “We can leave when I want?”

  “No questions asked, we leave whenever you wish,” he said. “Becky and I had this deal. I could choose the place, the event, and she could choose the amount of time. She didn’t have to explain to me why she wanted to go home. Over time I started figuring out patterns I could predict. Sometimes it would be the dark corners in a restaurant, or smells could be a trigger, but most of the time it was a nervous stomach bothering her. She was hypervigilant for a long while to the feeling of being watched.”

  “I’m sorry that was her experience, Matthew.”

  “It’ll be helpful for you to meet these people or I wouldn’t be suggesting we go. But you’re the one sorting out the impact of what’s happening. I’m not going to feel let down or disappointed if you want to change how this is unfolding. I’ll work with your decisions, Shannon. You’re going to get through the next few weeks intact if it’s the only thing I can promise you.”

  She had begun to smile. “I like that about you. That I’m in that circle you’re going to care about and protect, like some knight of old in a definition of chivalry.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “No. I’m pretty good at reading people. You’ve got ‘Becky II’ written over my name. It’s why you’re in Chicago with me, disrupting your own life, rather than in Boston. It’s . . . helpful to me to know that this is personal to you, not just business, that it matters to you that this unfolds in a safe way. I’m frankly taking advantage of that. I should be excusing you to get back to your life, but I’m selfish enough that for now I want you to stay.”

  Matthew put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly hug. “You couldn’t budge me if you tried.” He opened the door to the store. “Find us drinks, make mine something orange or cherry. I’ll get some snacks.”

  “No more pretzels. I’ve eaten so many of them I’m becoming twisted too. Cheese puffs. Cheese curls. Something cheese.”

  Matthew laughed. “I’ll find something.”

  He went to review the snack options, his smile fading when he was alone. He thought about what she’d handed him: the diary from the month she’d been taken. The implications . . . he understood the trust she was placing in him. He had now been hit with two fastballs in a matter of hours—the confirmation she wasn’t her father’s daughter, and the existence of a diary from the first month of her abduction. The contents of which were likely to hit him like a third fastball. He’d be reading that diary tonight after they were back from the cookout. He needed this evening among friends, if only to give him a chance to break up the stress landing on him. Shannon needed it even more—a taste of something normal, a chance to meet in a casual setting those she would be dealing with from law enforcement.

  He found cheese puffs. The last time he’d eaten junk food like this had been in the days after his daughter was recovered. Cheese puffs, old movies, ice cream, Scrabble, all familiar favorites to fill in the hours he was spending with her while those shattered nerves began to heal. Shannon wasn’t in nearly as bad a shape as his daughter had been, which was something that continued to surprise him. Or she was in her own way, and she was doing a good job of hiding it. He looked across the store to where she was filling drinks at the fountain, watched her expression when she didn’t think she was being observed. Hiding, he realized. But also exerting a tough strength to get things done like recover that diary, then trust him enough to hand it to him.

  Shannon would get herself through this, and he’d help her where she let him. And when the inevitable hard days arrived, when she wasn’t managing as well as she was today, he wouldn’t be surprised. He’d be as ready for them as possible. He walked over to meet her at the checkout counter. “Cheese puffs. And I might share one of my Twinkies.”

  She grinned. “I’m enjoying this break from eating healthy.”

  He put cash on the counter, accepted the change. “It’s going to turn me into an early fossil. I already did a round of this with Becky.”

  She laughed, and he decided the rest of the day was going to flow by as she needed it to—nothing else particularly stressful in it unless she raised a particular subject. He had enough on his plate to mull over without asking her anything else right now.

  13

  Matthew stopped Shannon with a light hand on her arm before she picked up the bowl of potato salad from the back seat. “You’ve met Ann and Paul, along with John,” he reminded her. “They’ll handl
e introductions to the others. And, as we agreed, whenever you’d like to leave, we’ll do so.”

  She nodded and smoothed the red-and-white-striped cotton shirt she was wearing with jeans. “Get past the weather, asking about any kids, what they do for a living, I’m out of conversation topics.”

  “I’ll step in if it starts to get awkward. You can depend on that,” he reassured her.

  They were met by John Key before they reached the front door. “Welcome to the Bishops’ place. Anything else I can carry for you?”

  “We’re good,” Matthew replied. “Should I move my car or are we okay where it is?”

  John considered the array of vehicles. “You’re fine where you are. I want you to be able to leave first just as a precaution.” He pushed open the front door for them and gave a quick tour. “Living room to your right, kitchen to the left, guest bath down the hall. We’re congregating in the backyard.”

  John led the way into the kitchen. “Rachel, two more arrivals.” The woman cutting a pan of brownies looked up with a smile.

  “This is Shannon, and this is Matthew,” John said, pointing to each with an easy smile as if she wouldn’t know.

  “Welcome to you both. I recognize that box, Matthew. Put it in the fridge for now. I think you can find space. Potato salad, Shannon?” At her nod, the woman beamed. “Excellent. A good picnic needs potato salad, and it’s a project to make. My time today was limited to calling my husband and asking him to put brownies in the oven.”

  John filled a celery stick with Cheez Whiz, said to Shannon, “Rachel’s the one with the pager going off tonight—she’s working the aftermath of a bus accident that injured some high school students from a summer baseball league. She’s good with kids. Her husband, Cole, is around here someplace—he’s the arson investigator on call this shift. We’re taking wagers on who gets called away first.”

  “There speaks the man who happens to at the moment be on the job,” Rachel replied, amused. She reached over to the array of drinks and tossed John a bottled water. “Find Ann’s dog. He’s around here somewhere and panting in the heat.”

  “Will do. I’ll tell Bryce it’s safe to put meat on the grill. Everyone’s here but Theo. He’s a punctual man, which tells me his date is not.”

  “I’m sure she’s got other good qualities,” Rachel suggested with a soft laugh. “Help yourself to a drink, Shannon. We’ve got everything from tea and sodas to lemonade. It’s always a bit of chaos when this group gets a chance to catch up. You already know Ann and Paul. Come on through to the backyard and I’ll introduce you to the rest. We like to eat and laugh and forget work for a while.”

  Matthew took the glass Shannon handed him, found she’d poured him iced tea, and they both followed Rachel through a sunroom set up as an artist’s studio and out to a spacious patio and backyard. There were several conversations among small groups around the yard, a sweeping glance confirming to Matthew the casual, relaxed postures of friends.

  “Shannon, Matthew, I’d like you to meet Bryce and Charlotte Bishop. They’re hosting tonight’s gathering.”

  Bryce stood in front of an impressive grill, his apron announcing his place as Grill Master. His wife was seated nearby in one of the cushioned patio chairs. “Glad you could join us this evening,” Bryce said, then offered his hand to Matthew and a smile to Shannon. Charlotte stayed seated but smiled her own welcome.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Shannon told them, “and a fabulous backyard.”

  “Thanks,” Bryce said with a nod. “We both work from home, so we keep tweaking this place to make it even more comfortable. This grill is a recent addition, hence a nice excuse for a cookout.”

  “It’s your studio, Charlotte?” Shannon asked, gesturing with her glass to the sunroom.

  “It is. I’ve been sketching life for a lot of years. Ellie Dance, John’s fiancée, is around here somewhere. She manages my art, co-owns the gallery where my work is displayed. Want to come wander around, see what I’ve done recently? The guys are likely to take another half hour setting up the grill the way they’re fussing.”

  Her husband just grinned. “Only way to have a respectable cookout, I say.”

  Ann’s dog rolled to his feet from under the table. “Have you two met Black?” Bryce asked.

  Matthew knelt to greet the animal. “We have.”

  “Don’t let his lazy nature at the moment fool you. He knows these events mean good food with some errors coming his way. This is a guy who knows the word steak.”

  The dog’s ears perked up as his attention slapped to Bryce. The group laughed. “Don’t tease him, Bryce, unless you plan to deliver,” Charlotte chided, rubbing Black’s head.

  “Top shelf of the fridge, brats and hamburgers for us, a small steak for the dog. I know how to treat my guests.”

  Ann joined them. “And you wonder why Black wants to hang out over here. Speaking of which, where are your dogs, Bryce?”

  “We’ve got two golden Irish Setters,” Bryce explained to Shannon. “They’ll be home in an hour,” he told Ann. “They’re out on loan to a neighbor who’s starting a dog-grooming business. They’re going to be the stars of his marketing materials.”

  “Nice work if you can get it,” Shannon offered with a small smile. “Get pampered and brushed and immortalized, all in one sitting.”

  Charlotte laughed. “How true. Come on, Shannon, let’s go find out what kind of art you like. Maybe I’ll do a sketch of Matthew before the evening’s done, if you want something to tease him about. Ann, bring Ellie. We’ll leave the guys to their grilling.”

  Matthew shared a brief look with Shannon and thought she’d found her role for the night—amused listener to other people’s stories. She’d be okay. It was an evening she desperately needed, among people who were friends.

  “I’m partial to nature images, Charlotte,” Shannon mentioned as they moved inside. “The seashell sketch in the kitchen already caught my eye.”

  Matthew glanced over as Paul stopped beside him. “Well, she didn’t bolt in the first two minutes,” Matthew offered.

  Paul smiled. “It’s the women. Put a group of them together, kick out the guys, and they can work through any stress lingering around like it was melted butter. Want to play a game of croquet? We’re debating the possibilities of setting up a truly difficult course.”

  Matthew scanned the yard. The guy who would be, by process of elimination, Rachel’s husband, Cole, was getting out the equipment. “You could put a hook shot around those railroad ties and bank one along the woodpile,” Matthew suggested. “I’m in.” Paul nodded. Before Paul could step away, Matthew paused and said in a low voice, “We need a word in private.”

  “Sure.” Paul stepped over toward the garage. “What’s the recent news?” he asked.

  “Shannon handed me a diary this afternoon, covering the month of her abduction,” Matthew began. “She had the diary with her when she was taken, and they let her keep it. I haven’t read it yet, and it’s not coming to you until she agrees, but whatever I can give you on names, locations, I’ll have for you by morning.”

  Paul glanced toward the house. “No matter the hour, call. I’ll let Theo know. The news she isn’t her father’s daughter was its own earthquake this morning. Theo’s been looking, but he hasn’t seen anything in the financials that looks like someone was blackmailing the mom. It’s going to take several more days to figure out if that information and the fact of her abduction are in any way connected.”

  “I don’t know which will be worse for Shannon—to have her mother’s affair and the news she’s not her father’s child be related to the abduction, or have it be an independent sorrow.”

  “I hear you. Anything else significant?”

  “She’s getting a lot more reserved. The call she’s waiting on would be my guess as to why.”

  “My national inquiries have drawn a blank so far. If there’s a second person who slipped free of this, there should be something to find. I’ve go
t people checking local reports and hospitals around Atlanta, Boston, and Seattle, given we don’t have much else to go on for locations until she tells us more.”

  A new guest stepped out onto the patio. “We’ll talk more later,” Paul said quietly. “Theo, about time you made it,” he called, walking back into the yard. “Grab a mallet and join us for some croquet. Where’s your date?”

  “That didn’t work out as planned, so I brought along Nancy Beach. She just disappeared somewhere with a lot of laughter and hugs when she and Rachel spotted each other.”

  “Nice compromise. I didn’t know she was in town. Bryce, what’s the official clock?”

  “A few more minutes and the meat goes on.”

  “Let’s get gates in the ground and balls in play. Dogs interfering count as your bad luck—you play wherever it stops.”

  Theo laughed. “I can see where this is going.”

  Matthew helped finish setting up the wire gates, then selected blue as his ball and mallet. It was mild fun made competitive because it was guys playing the game. He tapped the mallet against the side of his shoe, glad for the evening. He’d needed exactly this kind of break.

  Food came off the grill, plates got filled, and people sat around the back patio and inside at the kitchen table, enjoying the meal, laughing at stories, showing good humor as events from the past few months were recounted. Matthew tracked down Shannon every twenty minutes or so, found her relaxed, settled back in listening mode and simply being in the moment. That was the best news of the evening—Shannon staying engaged among a group. She liked Nancy Beach, with the two women getting deep into a conversation about favorite travel destinations. And Shannon loved Charlotte’s artwork. She pointed out several to him she particularly appreciated among the sketches on display. On more than one occasion Matthew spotted Shannon reaching down to pet the dog. Black certainly approved, planting himself near her and leaning in.

  Matthew eventually brought Shannon a piece of cheesecake and hunkered down beside her. “One hour plus. Doing okay?” he murmured.