Captured by S.J. Harper

possible motive. “What did his son look like?” I ask quietly.
    “A cute little thing,” Fortner replies. “Blond, blue eyes. Funny as all get out. He’d come with his parents to watch our softball games. He’d sit in the stands with his mom and cheer the loudest whenever his dad came to bat.”
    “Have you seen his wife lately?” Zack asks.
    “No.” Fortner releases a breath. “Stuart doesn’t play on the team anymore. Like I said, it’s a tricky situation with his wife. Stephanie had this terrific job at Charles Town Landing. She tried going back to work, but couldn’t manage it. I think she was seeing a shrink for a while.”
    My blood runs cold. She’s got to be aware. Involved. Unstable and unpredictable, a dangerous combination.
    “We need that address,” says Zack, pen poised and paper ready.
    Wallace rattles it off.
    Zack scribbles it down then he turns to me. “We’ll go to the house. Let the cops pick up Mason.”
    “Agreed.” I’m already on my feet. “Is there a way to narrow down where he might be?”
    Wallace nods. “We can tell you where he is right now. We’re using GPS tracking technology as a way to improve the efficiency of deliveries. Carriers are given smart phones that we track remotely. Bill?”
    Wallace rises and offers his chair to Fortner who, remarkably, still looks reluctant.
    “We only want to talk to Mason,” Zack says. But there is steel in his voice.
    Fortner sighs. He and Wallace switch places. He types furiously for a minute, punching in a series of numbers. He turns the screen so we all can see it.
    A map of Charleston comes up, then a magnified section of the city jumps into focus.
    “He’s working in the Longborough area,” says Fortner. “This program will continue to monitor his progress.”
    “May I?” Zack gestures to the phone on Wallace’s desk.
    “Of course. Nine will get you an outside line.”
    He glances at me. “I’m calling Taft. He can coordinate with the Charleston PD—” He breaks off to dial. Within seconds he’s got both Taft and Biller on the line and I can tell from the conversation that he’s filling them in and asking them to have the police find Mason and keep him in sight. He puts them on speaker. “Agent Monroe and I are going straight to the address I gave you. We’d like backup. Have the uniforms meet us with the warrant.”
    Taft’s voice responds. “Biller’s already on the phone with CPD. We’ll call you when we have Mason. Good luck.”
    Zack turns to Fortner. “I’m putting you on with Agent Taft. I expect you to cooperate fully. There’s to be no contact with Mason. We don’t want him spooked.”
    Mason’s boss looks over at the clock on the wall. “It’s close to four. He’d normally be back in about an hour.”
    “He won’t make it back,” Zack tells him.
    “But—”
    Wallace places a hand on Fortner’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll hang tight and cooperate fully with Agents Taft and Biller.”
    We turn to leave.
    Suddenly, the voice of Brett Anderson booms out over the speaker, stopping Zack and me in our tracks.
    “What the fuck is going on? You swear us to secrecy, then leak the police sketch to the press? I have to hear about this from some reporter for CNN? I swear to God—”
    “Whoa! What are you talking about?” asks Biller.
    “Live5 has the sketch. I tuned in and just saw it on the fucking news! It’s all over—television, radio, Internet.”
    His panic is escalating, and rightly so. We don’t need help from the public looking for Mason. We know exactly where he is. The problem is, if either Mason or his wife see the sketch, they’ll run. And, unfortunately, a four-year-old boy would likely just slow them down.

CHAPTER 9
    “Armstrong, Monroe, you getting this?” asks Biller.
    “We’re still here,” I say.
    Zack’s already commandeered Wallace’s computer and is pulling up the website for Live5News. There’s a video on the home page under a bright red “Breaking