Second Chance (Niki Dupre Bullet Mysteries Book 1)

Second Chance (Niki Dupre Bullet Mysteries Book 1) by Jim Riley

Book excerpt

Becky Howard looked over her shoulder. The eight-year-old daughter of a United States Congressman didn't see the big man who was supposed to be guarding her. She fidgeted, unable to keep her hands still. The line at the concession stand at the Baton Rouge Zoo moved at a snail's pace. The girl wanted an ice cream cone in the worst way. The guard had strict orders to limit her diet to healthy foods. Becky's mother was a physical trainer before becoming the trophy wife of a politician. She insisted her only child eat the right foods in the proper amounts.

Becky sighed. Only one customer ahead of her. However, the lady must've been ordering for a football team. She kept adding items until it seemed like she had ordered the entire menu. Becky looked over her shoulder one more time. She giggled when she saw the bodyguard frantically running in the other direction, down by the elephant exhibit.

"Are you Becky Howard?"

She hadn't noticed the man approach.

"Who are you?"

"Sam," the man answered. "Your mother is in the parking lot and wants you to go with her to Chuck E Cheese for a pizza."

"Really?"

Pizza was at the top of the list of her favorite foods. However, it wasn't on her mother's diet plan for the small girl, and she wondered what would cause her mother to change her mind.

"We need to hurry," Sam said. "You know how busy your mother's schedule is these days."

"What about Mr. Carl?" Becky asked, referring to her bodyguard. "I have to tell him where I'm going."

"I'll take care of that after you're in the car with your mother."

"What about my ice cream cone? Can I take it with me?"

"Of course," Sam replied. "You can eat it on the way."

Becky couldn't believe her good fortune. An ice cream cone and pizza on the same day! Unbelievable! She grinned as she walked out of the gate with Sam.

"How the hell could you let this happen?" Don Howard, the United States Congressman, turned beet red as he yelled at Carl. The bulging veins in his temples looked like they would explode.

"I don't know. Becky was there one minute, and then she wasn't. She's a resourceful girl."

"Don't try to blame my daughter. It was your responsibility to watch her. You'll never work in this state again. I'll make sure of that."

"C'mon, Mr. Howard. Becky probably found a friend. I bet they're eating cookies right now."

FBI agent Sheila Richardson burst into the room. Her agency became involved due to Don Howard's status in Congress. She was the Special Agent in Charge, known as the SAC, in Baton Rouge. With a case this big, she desired center stage.

"You've got to see this, Don."

She used the representative's first name to let him know she was on his side.

"What is it, Agent Richardson?"

"We've got your daughter on tape leaving the zoo."

"Was she alone?"

"She was with a guy. He avoided the old cameras, but we caught him on a new one. We only got the two of them from the back."

"Who is he?"

"No idea yet, sir. We didn't get a shot of his face, so our recognition software does us no good."

"Is he white, Black, Asian, Hispanic? Can you at least tell me what ethnic group the monster belongs to?"

"We haven't determined that, and we're still working on it."

"I want my daughter back."

"Sir, we're doing everything humanly possible. There are limits to what we can accomplish."

"That's not what your director said when he came begging for more money in front of my committee. They told us you guys work miracles every single day."

"We're proud of our accomplishments, Don. We just heard about your daughter an hour ago, and we've already found the footage of her leaving the zoo."

"I don't care about the footage, Agent. I want my daughter."

The phone rang, startling all three in the room. It was a call that would change the entire direction of the investigation.

"Who is this?"

The call came in on Don Howard's personal cell phone, displaying an unknown number. Only a few people close to the congressman knew his private number.

"Hello, Congressman. May I speak to Agent Sheila Richardson?"

"You're speaking to me and nobody else, asshole. What have you done with my daughter?"

"If you don't let me talk to Agent Richardson, you'll never see Becky again. That would be a shame because she's a good little girl."

Don's anger at the caller released a string of expletives. Sheila Richardson frantically tried to get her fellow agents to trace the call. They could track a call in seconds instead of minutes. She made a motion with her hands, rolling one over the other. She wanted Don to keep the man talking. She finally caught Howard's attention, and he nodded.

"How can I get Becky back?"

"You need to allow me to talk to Agent Richardson. Otherwise, little Becky will be an appetizer for my pet alligator."

The image of his only child being eaten by a huge reptile was more than Don Howard could take. His knees buckled, and he fell against the sofa in his living room. Sheila snatched the phone from his hand.

"This is Agent Richardson. To whom am I speaking?"

"Hello, Sheila. Are you still drinking too much?"

"What? How do you know that?"

"I know everything about you. You were a high flier until the Agency discovered your problem with the bottle. That's why they shipped you out to the boondocks."

"Baton Rouge isn't the boondocks."

She tried to extend the conversation any way she could.

"Then why did you beg them not to ship you here if it's such a wonderful place to live?"

"You seem to know a lot about me. Tell me more about yourself. I don't even know your name."

"How quickly we forget our friends, Sheila. And to think, I still have a picture of you in my bedroom. I look at it every night."

Sheila nervously looked around. This call wasn't being recorded, and no one thought Don's personal cell phone would be how the kidnapper would make contact. She was in a quandary. If the congressman found out his daughter's kidnapping resulted from a deranged man's anger toward the agent, her future looked bleaker than ever.

"Give me a hint. I still don't know who you are."

"Tell your guys to relax, Sheila. It'll do them no good to trace this call. It's a waste of time."

"Why did you take Becky?"

"Two reasons," the man replied. "The first is money. I like money. You like money. That's why you invested in that Ponzi scheme. You're greedy."

Shocked by his statement, the agent felt her knees weaken. No one knew about her poor investment. She was too ashamed to report her involvement. How did this man know?

"You said there are two reasons. What's the second?"

"I want the world to know just how screwed up you really are, and I want you to suffer."

"Why?" Richardson asked.

"You'll find out after you suffered enough. This is only the beginning. You're not going to like me much by the time I get through with you."

"What have I done to deserve this?"

A dial tone was the only sound left on the line.

She looked at her fellow agents. "Well? Did you trace the call?"

The older agent stepped forward.

"Yes, ma'am. We know the point of origin of the call."

"So, why are you standing there? Get moving! Why don't we have units on the way?"

"We can't, ma'am. The call came from the bottom of the Mississippi River. Eighty feet below the surface."