Debra Webb

Colby Core


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allowed her to carry a key. One key that fit the lock to the children’s room and that of the patients as well as her own room. If she angered him, he would take the privilege from her.

      “What’re you doing down here?” He turned on a table lamp and assessed her for several seconds. “You should be asleep by now.”

      “Everyone else is asleep. The doors slamming outside woke me. I was worried.” She gestured to the window. “Is something wrong?” Her voice sounded a little shaky. She prayed he wouldn’t make something of it.

      “There’s nothing for you to worry about.” He motioned for her to come to him. “Your attention is needed elsewhere.”

      Tessa moved close enough for him to take her arm. The feel of his hand on her skin made her sick to her stomach. “I guess I’m a little anxious after what happened in Alabama.”

      “A nuisance.” He guided her to the stairs. “Nothing more. No need to fret.”

      She nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

      “It’s a busy time,” he offered with uncharacteristic understanding. “I’ll expect you to be well rested in the morning.”

      Her head moved up and down of its own accord, proof of her comprehension of his advisement. That he seemed unfazed by her forbidden action made her all the more nervous. She forced one foot above the other, climbing the stairs without looking back and hoping that would be the end of it.

      “Tessa.”

      Fear swirled wildly in her belly. She turned back, keeping her hand planted firmly on the railing, her feet braced to run. “Yes.”

      “Do not mistake my indulgence of your behavior tonight for a softening of the rules.” He pressed her with a harsh gaze. “You know the rules. I will not tolerate another infraction. Not even from you.”

      “I understand.”

      Turning her back to him and climbing the remainder of the stairs was the hardest thing she had done in a long time. She had taken a major risk coming downstairs after curfew.

      If he discovered just how far she’d gone in breaking the rules Mr. Smith wouldn’t be the only one dying tomorrow.

      Chapter Four

       Chicago, Sunday, December 27, 7:00 a.m.

      Victoria Colby-Camp poured another cup of coffee and held it tightly in both hands. She needed the warmth. The city remained blanketed in snow, but that wasn’t the reason she felt chilled to the bone.

      Eight hours had passed with no contact from Riley Porter. Levi Stark, another of her investigators, and FBI Special Agent Lee Ross had lost visual contact on Riley before midnight. The tracking devices had been dumped in the parking lot of the rendezvous location.

      There had been no word since that revelation.

      Victoria had not slept in the same. Finally at six this morning she had joined her son, Jim, here at the office. There was little she could do, other than pray, but just being here made her feel more involved.

      Words could not adequately describe the relief Victoria felt at her agency’s accomplishment over the holiday weekend. Sixteen children had been recovered. But the recovery had not stopped this ruthless organization.

      She exhaled a heavy breath and moved across the lounge to peer out the window. Daylight had crept across the snow-laden streets, but the sun remained veiled by the heavy clouds. More snow was on the way.

      She thought about the file on Tessa Woods the Bureau had provided. The Bureau contacts in Mississippi had insisted on notifying the family. Victoria had considered the move a mistake despite the fact that Von Cassidy, a trusted Colby Agency investigator, had been nearly certain the blonde woman she’d encountered had been Tessa Woods. There was still a chance it wasn’t her.

      No matter. Julia and Warren Woods, the parents, had already contacted Victoria. The telephone conversation had been emotionally excruciating. Von had agreed to meet with the parents and answer any questions. The parents had flown to Nashville. Von and Trinity Barrett had left their Gatlinburg getaway long enough to make the trip to Nashville. Like Von, the parents were convinced that the blonde woman was indeed their daughter.

      Riley Porter’s mission was to find a way to bring down the organization and to recover Tessa Woods, as well as any other victims.

      Worry twisted in Victoria’s chest. She pushed it away and lifted her chin in defiance of the nagging doubts. Riley was highly trained. As a Navy SEAL he had rescued hostages and colleagues amid far more treacherous conditions. Victoria had complete faith in him.

      “Mother.”

      A smile lifted the corners of Victoria’s lips. Her heart still fluttered when her son called her Mother. She turned to him. “Any news?”

      Jim freshened his coffee, then shook his head. “Not yet. Agent Ross and his team have begun a discreet search. Our man Stark is working on an avenue of his own.”

      Levi Stark was another outstanding Colby investigator. If he had a lead of his own, Victoria felt confident it would prove worthwhile.

      “Any word from the task force?” she asked, hoping Jim had heard something she hadn’t.

      He shook his head. “But,” he qualified, “with the number of great and determined minds we have working on this case, I’m certain we’ll have a break soon.”

      Victoria nodded. The Bureau here in Chicago, in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as in New Orleans, had formed a task force to stop this ruthless ring of bastards.

      It couldn’t happen fast enough to suit Victoria.

      “I saw on your desk calendar that you have an appointment with your doctor next week.”

      “Just a routine physical,” Victoria assured her son.

      “I’m a few months behind. My doctor isn’t too happy with me.” She sipped her coffee. “But I’ve been a little busy lately.”

      Judging by Jim’s expression, he wasn’t going to let it go quite so lightly. “Keep the appointment. I don’t want you ignoring your health.”

      A smile widened no matter that she knew he was very serious. “I will keep the appointment. My health is important. I have two beautiful grandchildren who need me.”

      Jim’s gaze locked with hers. “I need you.”

      Emotion expanded in Victoria’s chest. “Well.” She took a much-needed breath. “How are the negotiations going with your buyer for the Equalizer shop?”

      “He’s willing to pay above asking price.” Jim shrugged, his expression puzzled.

      “You’re not happy about that?” Seemed to Victoria that above asking price would be the optimum desirable situation. Particularly in this economy.

      “We’re this deep into negotiations,” Jim explained, “and he still refuses to reveal his identity. His attorney claims the man just wants to maintain his anonymity. That he’s a philanthropist and intends to use the Equalizers as a way to help those in need, particularly those who don’t have the financial resources to help themselves.”

      Now she understood his unease. “Sounds too good to be true.”

      Jim nodded. “You know the adage. Whenever something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.”

      Victoria hoped that the idea that Tessa Woods was still alive wasn’t too good to be true as well.

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