"I left you a voice message about two hours ago. Rollins called in and wanted to know where the woman was. Diaz told her she never showed-"

Fuck! Pollard stormed back out of the van to see Akers disappear into the distance. The Ferguson bitch was working with Rollins all along, and they'd just turned her over on a kidnapping warrant. Angrily, he pulled the phone from his pocket, the window indeed announcing a voice message. He placed the call to Akers, dreading the tirade he knew would come.

"Akers."

"Cal! The Ferguson woman...she's working with Rollins."

"What the hell? How do you know?"

"Rollins called Diaz about two hours ago to find out where she was."

"Why didn't that stupid fuck call and let us know?"

"He says he did, but the idiot must have dialed the wrong number or something." Pollard wasn't about to admit that he'd forgotten to check his messages.

"Stay where you are in case she calls again. I'm going to go get some answers from this bitch if I have to break her arms," he growled.

"Hey, Elena, birthday cake in the break room," her fellow agent announced, jerking her head toward Chad's office.

For the last two days, Elena had fought the urge just to yank the bug off the bottom of her desk and crush it with her boot; but they'd all agreed that it was better to work around it than to worry about it showing up somewhere else. Chad's office was swept several times a day and deemed secure, so all of their business with the Spencer Rollins case was conducted there.

"What is it?"

"We got the dirt on Stacy Eagleton," Lori Pruitt proclaimed with a grin. "She had a little trouble about eight years ago when she worked for Southern Health Supply in Atlanta. They started an investigation into some inventory problems, but they dropped it when she resigned."

"What kind of inventory problems?"

"Short shipments, it would appear, a lot like what's happening at Margadon. But at Southern, she was pulling the cash out of her own budget instead of spending it on her vendors. Southern let it go quietly because they didn't want to call attention to the shipments that went out under spec."

"Akers and Pollard must have found out about it and confronted her. So she set up another scheme and cut them in on it," Elena concluded. "Is that what you're thinking, Chad?"

Her boss nodded with satisfaction. "Makes sense to me. How are we going to prove it?"

"Why don't we pull her phone records and see if she has any calls to these agents?"

"That's a start. Have we heard from Rollins again?"

"No. But I did confirm that the FBI has Ruth Ferguson in custody and that's she's awaiting extradition back to Maine. Apparently, they haven't made the connection between her and Spencer, so we're good there. But...."

"But what?" Chad asked, knowing already what Diaz would request.

Elena looked sheepishly at the other agents in the room, prompting her boss to dismiss them so they could discuss this alone.

"We're moving on that case as well. Agent Fennimore is arriving in Madison, Maine right about now to start going over the books at Drummond Appliances. If we have any leverage for keeping Ruth Ferguson here in DC, I'd like to call that in."

"We're no match for a federal kidnapping warrant, Elena."

"Chad, this woman risked her freedom to help with this case. I'm not asking for a pardon here. I'm just asking that we hold her here until Fennimore completes his work."

"We can't use the IRS to strong arm people into giving up their kids. You know that," he scolded.

"But there's something wrong with this case. This mother should never have lost her kid in the first place, and Thomas thinks maybe the judge was bought. That makes it our jurisdiction and our obligation to investigate."

"What kind of evidence are we looking at?"

"Drummond Appliances was her ex-husband's company and it had a huge write-off right about the time the case went to court. It wasn't carried over to the next quarter like their other bad debts; and it wasn't handed to their collection agency. It was like they just gave something away."

"That's all you've got?"

"For Christ's sake, Chad! Just give him twenty-four hours to look into it. You know how I-"

"I know, I know. You hate coincidences."

CHAPTER 25.

RUTH LEANED BACK against the concrete wall counting her blessings. Jessie would be safe. Spencer and Viv would see to that, and nothing else on earth mattered. In a few days, Elena would find a way to end the Margadon case, and Spencer would be safe.

But by that time, it would be too late for anyone to help her. An agent had stopped by to explain that they'd received her extradition papers and she was to be sent under escort of a US Marshall to jail in Maine with or without revealing her daughter's whereabouts. They had already begun the search.

But they wouldn't find her, she told herself again. They were probably already gone from the trailer, and Jessie would be taken to a safe place. She was sure of it.

Startled from her ruminations by a creak of the door, Ruth looked up to see a very angry Calvin Akers. With his red face and the prominent veins on his neck and forehead, the man looked like he was about to have a stroke.

"Why, hello again, Calvin," she said sarcastically. "Did you miss me?"

"Miss Ferguson, I've just been apprised of your involvement in another federal case, and I think it would be a good idea for us to discuss some options that might be available to you." Akers was so angry that he wanted just to grab her throat and squeeze, but the only way they were going catch Rollins was to cut a deal or at least to appear as though they were cutting a deal. If Ruth Ferguson knew the details of the Rollins case and it was apparent that she did her fate was a foregone conclusion. He just had to figure out how it would happen.

"Don't waste your time. I'd rather rot in jail, thank you."

"Would you?" he sneered. "You know we're going to find your little girl eventually, Miss Ferguson. What's going to happen when she starts school next year and the kid next to her has her picture on his milk carton? Or when we send out the flyers to the schools? You think she's going to stay hidden forever?" Ferguson's face showed both her anger and her fear. This was good. "Let me answer that. No, we're going to find her. And when we do, she goes back to that awful place you didn't want her to be, that place that was so bad, you risked everything just to get her away. And you're going to be in jail, unable to do a damn thing about it."

"Except you're not going to find her," she argued, her voice more hopeful than certain.

"Let me give you another scenario to think about. You and Jessie Drummond get a nice house somewhere in a small Midwestern town. You get a new job that pays good money, enough so that you and your daughter can have nice things. You both get new names and the trail for Ruth Ferguson and Jessie Drummond goes ice cold. Agents get pulled off the case and reassigned. You never have to worry again. How does all that sound?"

Those were just about the same plans Ruth had made for herself. She didn't need this dickhead's help for that. Except that she was in jail and Jessie was hiding out there with Spencer and Viv.

"And all you have to do is tell me where I can find Spencer Rollins." His offer was simple...and a bald-faced lie. But she was their best chance, their only real chance.

"Go to hell."

"I really appreciate this, Jerry, especially on such short notice and all."

"I know you wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. Besides, it's about time I got the chance to start paying you back for all you've done for me over the years." Jerry was an electrician, a widower in his late fifties. He kept a few horses on his land, including a couple that he boarded for the extra money he could earn.

"You don't owe me a thing and you know it. We settled that a long time ago," Viv said firmly, squeezing the big man's shoulder. Jerry fell on hard times a few years ago when doctors diagnosed a ruptured disc that required surgery. With no medical insurance, he had no way to pay; and he couldn't work because his back hurt too much. Viv heard about his troubles through the church, and showed up at his house one day with a check.

Nobody in Manassas had any idea that Viv Walters was worth so much, and she wasn't about to tell. At one time, she'd owned all the land that bordered the few acres that now held only her small house and the trailer. She'd sold it back when Sheila and Robby were little, her late husband's farms and rental properties too much to manage. For over twenty years, the profits had sat in CDs at several banks around town, rolling over every couple of years while she drew the interest to live on.

Jerry had enough room for everybody at his big farmhouse, and just as Viv said, the Jeep was out of sight in the barn. Jessie was playing with the puppies; Viv was fixing dinner for everyone; and Spencer was pacing on the front porch, trying to figure out what she would do next.

As long as she was free, the FBI would keep putting the pressure on Ruth. They had probably offered her freedom freedom to take Jessie and run but there was no way they would ever let her go. She knew too much. If Spencer turned herself in, Ruth would lose her only value.

"Spencer?" Viv came onto the porch. "We have a problem."

"What is it?"

The landlady sighed. "Lisa."

"Goddamn it! How could we forget Lisa?" Spencer walked inside to find a sobbing Jessie.

"She's all by herself," she wailed.

"I know. But she'll be alright, Jessie. She's been by herself before."

"Not this Lisa," she argued, hiccupping amidst her tears.

Spencer sighed. Lisa wasn't just a doll to Jessie. She was an anchor, a constant; and Jessie needed to have her to be okay.

Thomas Fennimore and the auditors found exactly what they looking for in only two hours, following the theory they'd developed back in Washington. Skip Drummond was even stupider than Thomas had predicted.

Drummond and Ruth Ferguson had appeared in court in October of the previous year for their final divorce hearing. That was when permanent custody of Jessie Riane Drummond was awarded to her father.

It was also the month that Drummond Appliances wrote up a bill of sale for a state of the art home entertainment system worth over eight thousand dollars. The purchaser was a William Johnson, no address, no phone. But the best part at least if you were an IRS agent looking for wrongdoing was that there was no record of payment, either partial or otherwise. And the debt was written off as uncollectible two months later, with no record of billing.

It appeared that Skip Drummond had been too cheap to pay for his own bribe. That was greedy. But it was the stupid part that excited Thomas so much: The delivery logs for that day showed the entertainment system going to the home of Judge Malcolm Howard.

Thomas was ready for the second warrant.

"So Diaz is still in her office?" Akers had canceled his nap after learning that Rollins had surfaced.

"Yeah, but she hasn't gotten any more calls."

"I don't like it, Mike. They're up to something. Hold on, I need to take this other call." He placed his partner on hold and punched the blinking line. "Akers."

"I found it," the intern said excitedly. "An old Ford, just like you said. It was in the garage at Franconia-Springfield."

"Was there anything in it?"

"Yeah, there was a wallet in the glove compartment with a driver's license for Karen Michelle Oliver, address 843 Old Richmond Road in Manassas."

"That's the jackpot, Andrew. Good work." Akers clicked back to the blinking light. "We have an address. I need you to find a way over to the office ASAP. We're going out to see Spencer Rollins."

The wall clock in the third floor conference room said eight o'clock, and the small group had already started to gather. Elena Diaz, three IRS special agents, and six members of the support staff took seats around the long table to await the arrival of their boss.

Elena checked the battery in her phone for the fourth time to be sure it was fully charged. Missing a call from Spencer at this stage of the game would be disastrous.

Chad Merke entered quietly with another gentleman, unknown to most of the staff, but not to Elena. This was the director of the FBI's District Field Office, Jeffrey Wilkinson. Like Chad, Jeff was in his early fifties, a few pounds slower than when he'd worked cases, but not a man to be taken lightly. He'd had a stellar career, and was well-respected by all of the local law enforcement agencies, including the IRS.

Chad made the introductions, and then turned the meeting over to Elena so that she could make her case.

Before she began, she disclosed her close friendship with Spencer Rollins. It was only fair that Wilkinson should have all the facts though their sex life was none of his business when he considered the evidence.

Step by step, she laid out their case, beginning with Stacy Eagleton and her history at Southern Health Supply. The first evidence against the two FBI agents was that they missed or more likely, overlooked the reasons for her resignation from that company.

From there, Elena described the evidence against the four Margadon employees: the doctored program that diverted funds from the federal contract into a hidden account; the extravagant purchases; and a record of personal contact during the FBI's background checks with agents Akers and Pollard.

Next, she produced tax returns for both agents, followed by a copy of the bill of sale for Pollard's vacation home and receipts for Akers' travel and expenses in gambling locations.

Finally, she showed a chart that outlined the significant events of the past ten days, from the murder of Henry Estes to the arrest the abduction, in fact of Ruth Ferguson.

"But Ruth Ferguson is wanted on federal kidnapping charges," Wilkinson point out. "Picking her up was under their jurisdiction."

"With all due respect, Agent Wilkinson, Akers and Pollard knew that Ms. Ferguson was en route to meet me when they picked up her. It's my contention that they did so to prevent further contact with our office and to gain access to Spencer Rollins."

A staffer from their offices upstairs entered the room and quietly dropped several pages onto Elena's chair. The agent walked over to examine the contents, smiling wryly and nodding. "And here's another piece of evidence I'd like you to consider. In the past ten days alone, Stacy Eagleton has made six calls to Agent Akers. That strikes me as unusual."

"It's not unusual to me, Agent Diaz. Agents Akers and Pollard have been assigned to investigate two murders of Margadon employees. It's perfectly understandable that they would maintain contact with company officials. As you know, the Bureau has a lot of resources dedicated to this case, including our surveillance of you in the event you are again approached. If Spencer Rollins is innocent, that can all be sorted out when she comes forward. This...evidence, as you call it...should be considered as part of a bigger picture."

Elena couldn't decide if the man was being sincere or obstinate. While he might offer an alternate explanation for the individual elements of her evidence, he surely couldn't dismiss the suspicious nature of all of it taken together. She was about to challenge his reasoning when Chad mercifully interrupted and saved her from sending the senior agent into a more defensive posture.

"Jeff, we're aware of how serious these allegations are, and we also understand that you'd rather have more ironclad proof of wrongdoing before acting against two of your own agents. What we'd like to ask of you is that you pull Akers and Pollard off this case while we continue our investigation and that you place Ruth Ferguson in protective custody right away. On our end, we're fairly certain they're involved, and we plan to proceed with this case against all the parties we've named as an official investigation of the Internal Revenue Service."

"Why does Ferguson need to be in protective custody?"

"We fear that she's in danger because she knows about these events."

"In danger from my agents?" That was ridiculous!

Merke merely nodded.

Wilkinson heard the plea for what it was, a desperate favor from fellow investigators who were genuinely convinced that two of his agents were involved in not only embezzlement, but murder. The financial data on his two agents was unsettling, but he needed to weigh it in light of the IRS agent's personal interest in the suspect. If he took action and they were wrong, it would cost him the support of his entire staff. On the other hand, if he ignored them and they were right, it would cost him his career.

CHAPTER 26.

WITH HER RECENT practice, Spencer had gotten to be an old hand at moving through the woods in the dark. It was too big a risk just to drive back to the house so she'd gotten directions from Viv on how to get access from a neighboring road. If someone were there already, she'd just turn around and leave; otherwise, she would go on in the back door, get the doll, and go back through the woods.