Taken by Dee Henderson Page B

bullet in your head.”
    She glanced up, caught the expression of horror on his face, wiped hers clean of any emotion. “Sorry.”
    He simply shook his head. “How big is this family?”
    “Eighteen deserve to be in jail. Another six are . . . ‘mercy cases’ is how I think of them. They knew, but couldn’t do anything about it without such a price being paid that staying silentwas all they reasonably could do.” She pushed back from the table.
    Matthew reached over and rested his hand on hers before she could rise. “Shannon, did someone die because you ran?” He asked it as gently as he could, but he had to ask, had to know. Nothing would destroy her faster than carrying around that kind of crushing guilt.
    She blew out a breath. “No. They think I’m dead. I was one of the names on the cleanup list after the family implosion. Flynn was assigned to do it, but he didn’t use a bullet. He simply said ‘good luck’ and let me try to swim back to land.” She faintly smiled, remembering. “I’m pretty sure he was hoping I would make it, because he tucked a locker key to one of his private stashes in my hand before he pushed me overboard.”
    “Where was this? How far did you swim?”
    He caught a very brief change in her expression before she gained control again. Whatever the answer, at some point she’d thought she wouldn’t make it, that she’d drown. She shook her head.
    “Is Flynn someone who deserves mercy?”
    “Flynn is . . . nearly as dangerous to the family as I am.”

7
    M atthew, you’ve got to convince her to have a conversation with us,” Paul said early the next morning after he heard the update on what Shannon had shared.
    “I’ll see once we arrive. She’s dumping the story at such a pace I think I’m going to have most of it by the time we reach Chicago. That may in fact have been her intention all along.”
    He had his phone on speaker, making notes as they talked. He reached for his coffee and stilled as he saw movement. He lifted a hand in greeting to Shannon and motioned her to come on in. He’d pushed open the connecting door a foot when he heard her moving around. He pointed to the box of donuts he’d gone out early to buy, and the quart of orange juice he had opened. She smiled her thanks.
    “If we knew the address where she was to be dropped off, we could very likely solve the reason for her abduction and who paid to have it done,” Paul pointed out, his voice sounding slightly hollow on the speakerphone.
    “I know.” Matthew looked over at Shannon, who shook her head. “Whatever her reason is for holding it back, I think it’sdeliberate. I’ll ask her on the names, see if she recognizes anyone. Anything else you have on your short list?” He turned the pad of paper toward Shannon as he offered the comment so she could read the list. She looked over the nine names, shook her head no.
    “John Key has arrangements made for a safe place to stay in Chicago. You’ll need two security codes for the entrances, but not a key. I’ll direct you once you hit town, as its location is a bit tucked away.”
    “Tell him thanks. Once we’ve arrived, give us a day to shake off the travel fatigue, then call her brother and set up a meeting.”
    “That works for me,” Paul agreed.
    Matthew took back the pad of paper. “Shannon’s looked at the names and drawn a blank.”
    “Well, that’s . . . disappointing,” Paul finally said. “We’ll keep digging.”
    “Appreciate it. I’ll call you again this evening once we’ve settled for the night.”
    “It’s a plan. Talk to you later.”
    Matthew clicked off the phone.
    “Who are they?” Shannon asked, tipping her glass of orange juice toward the list of names.
    “Lawyers connected either directly or tangentially to your parents and extended family eleven years ago.”
    “You think someone on that list helped put in motion what happened to me?”
    “If the pattern holds, it’s probable. It’s also possible