“The second day I was there, they took me to another room, away from the girls. There was a small desk, and the only things on top were a small piece of paper and a pen. They forced me to sit and write down my father’s personal cell phone number.”
The fuck?
“Did they call it?”
Her head bobbed with another jerky nod. “After I was taken back to the room.”
Beckett took a beat to pause, knowing he’d need to tread very lightly. She was finally starting to open up to him. To reveal potentially serious and vital intel about a Tac-Ops mission. Thelast thing he wanted to do was shut her down by saying the wrong thing.
“Did you hear the phone call?”
“Not that one.” She shook her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“That one?” He frowned. “But you did hearaconversation between the men who took you and your father?”
“I’m not explaining this very well.” Evie blew out a breath and sat back in her chair. When she did, her hands slipped free from where they’d been held beneath his. “About an hour before your team showed up, I was taken away from the girls and into a different room. Not the one with the desk. This one was further down the tunnels. Anyway, the man shoved me inside, then he hit me.” Her hand absentmindedly went to her unblemished jaw.
Flames of anger ignited within him, sending both of Beckett’s fists into tight, white-knuckled balls. “Then what?” He purposely kept his tone rock steady.
“He started yelling at me, claiming the number I’d given them was wrong.”
“Was it?”
It wouldn’t have been the worst move if she were trying to buy herself some time.
“It was my father’s number,” she insisted. “That man…he started to hit me again, but I finally convinced him to let me make the call. I thought…” Her voice cracked. “I thought maybe if my dad heard my voice, then he’d know the situation was real. That it wasn’t some sort of scam, and the girls and I really were in danger.”
“That was smart.” Damn smart.
But from the look on Evie’s face, her idea must not have gone as planned.
“The man handed me his satellite phone, and I dialed the number. At first, I didn’t think my father was going to pick up. But then…he did.”
Once again, Beckett had to call upon his training not to react to the what-the-fuck bomb she’d just dropped. He knew for afactsomeone from Homeland had been in contact with her father post-rescue. Hell, he’d read the classified—and appropriately redacted—report himself.
Including the sworn statement from the agent who’d spoken directly to Phillip Mitchell…
Hostage A’s father denied any knowledge of the abduction and/or subsequent rescue carried out by the unnamed tactical team.
Hostage A. That was the anonymous title assigned to Evie for the purpose of the official reports.
Beckett had read dozens just like it, but never before had the label ever angered him as it had with that one. The hostages discussed in those reports were human beings with lives and fears, and people who loved them. However, the powers that be reduced them down to little more than letters in the alphabet.
Evie’s so much more than that.
“What did your father say when you told him about the ransom?”
Evie blinked, and this time, there was no mistaking the tears rushing to fill her eyes. “He said he didn’t have a daughter and demanded we stop calling.”
Beckett couldn’t have been more shocked—or more enraged—than he was at that very moment.
“Are you fuckingkiddingme?” he seethed loudly. Several nearby customers immediately stopped their conversations and turned their way. Realizing he’d pretty much just blurted that shit out for all to hear, he leaned forward and reverted back to his calmer, more in-control self. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“That’s it.” A tiny shrug. “I told my dad what had happened and that those men were going to kill me and the girls if he didn’t send the money, and he basically denied my existence altogether.”
Mental note: Find Phillip Mitchell and beat his fucking ass.
“And after that?”