Forbidden Territory & Forbidden Temptation: Forbidden Territory / Forbidden Temptation

Rose’s eyes glittered. “Creepy!”

“It didn’t feel creepy, though,” Lily said. “At first, maybe, but after that it seemed sort of sweet. How she’d been watching over Abby.”

“You think she knows Abby?”

“I think she’s connected somehow. Maybe a cousin or something. Something about her looks familiar.”

“Why would Abby’s cousin come to you in a vision?”

Lily shrugged. “I’d love to ask Andrew Walters about the little girl, but I promised McBride I’d stay away from him.”

Before Rose could respond, Jezebel jumped from the counter onto the kitchen table, knocking over Lily’s tea.

“Jezzy!” Rose jumped up to avoid the liquid spreading toward her.

Lily shooed the cat away and crossed to the counter to retrieve a roll of paper towels to mop up the mess, while Rose grabbed the newspaper off the table to keep it from getting wet.

When Lily dumped the soaked towels and returned to the table, she found Rose gazing at the paper, a strange light in her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

Rose turned the paper around, showing Lily a front-page photo of McBride and a couple of detectives Lily didn’t recognize, manning phones at police headquarters.

Rose pointed to McBride. “This is McBride, isn’t it?

Lily nodded, chill bumps rising on her arms. The picture caption didn’t identify him by name. “How’d you know?”

Rose’s grin split her face from ear to ear. “Sugar, he’s the man you’re going to marry.”

CHAPTER NINE

MCBRIDE WATCHED THE cable news interview through narrowed eyes, a little unnerved by how well Andrew Walters was holding together under the camera lights. The man was smooth, well-spoken and engaging. The camera loved him.

No wonder he was in politics.

“I’m grateful for everyone’s support. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.” Walters looked straight at the camera, his chin up, his eyes soft with emotion. “Please remember to keep your eyes open. Be aware of who’s around you. That little redhead you see in the grocery store could be my daughter.”

“He’s good,” FBI Special Agent Cal Brody murmured.

McBride glanced at the agent. Brody was a lean, rangy man with the sharp eyes of a hunter. He said little and missed nothing. And he looked just as bemused as McBride felt.

“He has an alibi,” McBride responded, aware what the agent’s dry words were implying. “And no discernible motive.”

“What about his opponent?”

“If Blackledge was behind it, he screwed up. Walters’s poll numbers are way up since his daughter disappeared.” A niggle of unease crept under McBride’s collar as he spoke.

“Motive.” Brody echoed the path of McBride’s thoughts.

McBride pressed his lips together, considering the idea of Walters as the mastermind behind his daughter’s kidnapping. Was it possible? His alibi was airtight, so he’d have had to hire someone else to make the snatch…

No. Until this morning, when he’d arrived to find Walters up to his elbows in campaign discussions with his campaign manager, Joe Britt, McBride had never seen the man as anything other than a desperate, heart-sick father.

But Walters had a job to do, just like McBride.

When Brody joined McBride and Walters that morning, he’d gone over the FBI’s game plan. “We think we’ve figured out this guy’s trace-blocking system, so we should be able to pinpoint him when he calls today. We get his location, we strike, we grab him.” Brody had looked at Walters. “I understand you don’t believe he’s legitimate.”

“Lily is sure he’s a fraud,” Walters had said.

“Lily?” Brody had asked.

“She’s a psychic who’s helping us find Abby,” Walters had said before McBride could stop him. McBride had braced himself for the agent’s reaction.

Brody’s only response had been a quick glance at McBride.

Walters had managed to stay away from the topic of Lily for most of the day, distracted by a Birmingham television news crew who’d arrived to interview him about his missing daughter.

McBride wished he were as easily distracted. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Lily Browning.

The crew wrapped up the interview, broke down their equipment and left. Walters went to change clothes, leaving McBride alone with Brody.

“How closely did you look at him?”

“Verified his alibi. Checked his bank account to see if there were any odd outputs of money, but he is in the middle of a senate run. There’ve been outlays. But they seem legit.”

Brody shrugged. “From what I know about Blackledge, if Walters had any skeletons, they’d be out of the closet already.”

Brody was right. Walters knew what it was like to live under scrutiny. It was only reasonable he’d hold up under pressure better than the average guy with a missing daughter.

Walters returned to the sitting room, minus his jacket and tie. “I hope that earns us a few more eyeballs.”

Odd phrasing, McBride thought. But the trill of a phone diverted his attention.

It was the dedicated line.

McBride glanced at Brody. The fed nodded. Andrew Walters sank onto the sofa and took a deep breath.

As they’d agreed, McBride answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Walters. Remember me?”

McBride recognized the voice from the surveillance tape. He squeezed the receiver tightly. “I remember.” He smoothed his gravelly voice to sound more like Walters.

“We want five hundred grand in tens and twenties, dropped in the waste bin at the corner of 10th and Maple. Tomorrow night at eleven-thirty. We’ll be watching, so don’t be stupid.”

“That’s a lot of money to get together by then.”

“Don’t jerk me around, Walters. You’re worth fifty times that. Eleven-thirty tomorrow night.” The man’s voice quavered despite his attempt to sound tough. “And no cops, got it? I smell so much as a whiff of bacon, the kid is dead.”