Taken. Lisa Harris

Rachel. She’d already explained to one of the officers that not only had her sister been shot, but her niece was missing. The room tilted as they searched the house for Sophie. Nausea spread through her. Nothing made sense. Rachel was a mom who worked part-time as a hairdresser at a local beauty shop. Someone clearly wanted something that was worth killing for, but what? And why would they take Sophie?

      Thirty minutes later, Kate stood in the waiting room while doctors rushed to save Rachel’s life.

      As she leaned against one of the walls, an officer approached her and began peppering her with questions. Though sympathetic, he wanted answers—fast. Did she know who had shot her sister? Did she know where her niece was?

      Kate caught the young officer’s gaze, fighting the urge to scream. No. She didn’t have any answers. Didn’t know who had shot Rachel. Didn’t know where Sophie was.

      As he continued to ask her questions she had no clue how to answer, she thought about calling her mother and the pastor from their church, but had no idea what to say. How was she supposed to break the news to her mother that Rachel might be dying and Sophie was missing?

      She wondered if they should expect a ransom note. That was how they did it on television. Cops or FBI agents waited with the grieving family until the kidnappers called to make their demands. They needed to find out what they were after, and if this were somehow connected to Chad, because Rachel didn’t have the kind of money kidnappers would demand.

      Which meant she needed to talk with Chad. She tried his preprogrammed number she’d kept on her phone. No answer. Despite their failing marriage, Kate couldn’t imagine the man shooting Rachel and leaving her for dead. The two might have had their issues, but she didn’t think Chad was capable of murder—or even kidnapping, for that matter.

      Except all the signs were there. Possible divorce, a string of heated arguments, and if he was involved in something illegal... Even if he hadn’t been here, Chad had to know something.

      She punched in his number again, wondering what time it was in Paris right now. Wondering why he wasn’t answering.

      Only one thing was clear at the moment. She was going to keep her promise to her sister and find Sophie.

      * * *

      Monday afternoon, Marcus O’Brian slid the key into the front door of the upscale house and slipped past the yellow tape. Operation Solitaire had turned into a yearlong investigation with diamonds being smuggled into the United States in exchange for military-grade weapons for a number of third-world African countries. And his search had led him here.

      After weeks of dead ends, he still had more questions than answers. Which was why coming here was a long shot, but it wasn’t one he was willing to dismiss. Chad Laurent, half French, half American, might be working as a legitimate buyer for an international jewelry company, but now Marcus had compelling evidence Chad was buying and selling diamonds sourced from illegitimate channels; uncertified diamonds that had been smuggled into the international market and in turn sold as legitimate gems. And now on top of that, the man was a prime suspect in an attempted murder case and kidnapping charges of his wife and daughter.

      He stepped through the front door and studied the layout of the three-bedroom, two-story house that had been ransacked—open-concept living room, dining room and kitchen, with a wide staircase to the second floor. Among the chaos were picture books, puzzles, stacks of children’s DVDs and colorful drawings hanging on the fridge. He went over in his mind everything he knew about Rachel Elliot Laurent. Married for five years, but currently separated from her husband. There was no evidence of abuse, which was why the shooting seemed out of character if Chad was behind it. Or at least unexpected. But the rules of the game had changed, and he had a feeling that Rachel wasn’t as innocent as she’d portrayed herself to be in their interview three days before the shooting.

      Something about her demeanor had rubbed him the wrong way. She’d insisted she knew nothing about Chad’s possible illegal activities, especially now that her husband had relocated to Paris six months ago, but she’d been hiding something. He was certain of it.

      He heard a noise upstairs. Marcus’s pulse shot up a notch. Someone else was in the house. He took the stairs to the second floor slowly, gun drawn, senses alert to the unfamiliar sounds of the house. According to his contact within the local PD, no one should be here. More than likely it was someone who’d decided to take advantage of the empty house, or a family member who didn’t care that this was a crime scene. If he were lucky, the perpetrator had returned to the scene of the crime.

      He stepped through the doorway of the master bedroom and stopped. A woman knelt beside an open wooden chest facing away from him, going through the contents. Like the rest of the house, the room had been trashed, but here, blood stained the light-colored carpet. The crime scene unit had already swept the house for evidence, but whoever she was, she clearly wasn’t supposed to be here.

      “I want you to put your hands in the air and stand up slowly.” He held his weapon level and aimed it at her as she stood and turned toward him, clearly alarmed by his presence.

      “Who are you?” she asked as she followed his instructions.

      “I could ask you the same thing.” He took a step toward her. Recognition skirted his memory as he searched for a name. “Kate Elliot?”

      Her frown deepened. “How do you know my name?”

      “I know your sister. Wow. The two of you could be twins.”

      “Irish twins, actually. We were born eleven months apart. But that doesn’t answer the question of what you’re doing here.”

      He stopped midstride, and pulled back the front of his black tailored sports coat. “My name is Marcus O’Brian. I’m with the FBI, investigating what happened to your sister.”

      He studied her briefly—shoulder-length, reddish-blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, intense hazel-colored eyes. Something struck him about the intensity of her posture, like a mama bear defending her cubs. But why not? Her sister had been shot and her niece was missing. And from her defiant expression, she didn’t believe he was one of the good guys.

      “Why is the FBI involved?” she asked.

      He lowered his weapon and reholstered it. He didn’t have evidence that Rachel was involved in her husband’s illegal activities, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep digging. “I can’t talk about that.”

      “Do you know who shot her?”

      “No...but I am sorry.” He knew she was hurting, but showing empathy had never been his strong point. “How is she?”

      “She came out of surgery, but she’s still unconscious. And the last I heard there were still no firm leads on my niece’s whereabouts.”

      “Were you here when she was shot?”

      “No, but I was on my way. I found her here. Whoever shot her took Sophie and left Rachel to bleed to death.”

      “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt her?” he asked.

      “No. I’ve already told the police everything I do know, which isn’t much.”

      “Like I said, I’m not with the police.”

      “Don’t you share information?”

      “Yes, but I’m in the middle of a separate investigation connected to her husband.”

      “Chad?” The fatigue in her eyes deepened. “Do you think Chad is behind my sister getting shot?”

      “At this point, I have no idea. What I do know is that the FBI is currently investigating Chad for possible involvement in an open criminal case where your sister is a potential witness.” Or in his mind, a suspect, but he wasn’t going to bring that up at this time. “Do you think it’s possible your brother-in-law was involved in the shooting?”

      “At this point, I’d believe almost anything, but I don’t think so. Chad can be