Page 107 of Grave Danger

“Swyteck, stop right there!” said Logan.

Jack complied, but he’d walked far enough to see inside the bedroom, which was a mess. The mattress had been overturned. Clothes were on the floor. Agents were rifling through dresser drawers, spilling the contents onto the rug.

“You’re not going to find a seven-year-old girl in a dresser drawer,” Jack said. “What is the FBI looking for, Logan?”

“We’re executing the warrant,” said Logan.

“The warrant is a pretext,” said Jack. “What are youreallylooking for?”

The agent didn’t answer.

“This is an illegal search,” said Jack. “My client does not consent to the search for anything not listed on the warrant.”

“Noted,” said Logan.

Another agent came halfway down the stairway and stopped. “Nothing in the upstairs bedrooms,” he said to Logan.

“Check again,” said Logan.

The agent headed back up the stairs.

Jack locked eyes with Logan. “This is about Ava Bazzi, isn’t it,” said Jack.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not here looking for a child,” said Jack. “The FBI is looking for evidence of what happened to her mother. Herbiologicalmother.”

Logan said nothing, but Jack had his answer. He excused himself, headed for the door, and dialed Andie on his cell phone. She picked up.

“Andie, we gotta talk,” he said. “But not on a cell phone.”

“What’s this about?”

He was no longer sure his cell phone was secure. “It’s important. Can you meet at home?”

“Jack, what is this about?”

“Andie, please. Can you meet me?”

She hesitated, and Jack realized he probably sounded paranoid or crazy. But she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m at Sir Pizza with Righley’s soccer team. They finally won a game, but the celebration’s almost over. I can be there in half an hour.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, and the call ended.

Chapter 38

Zahra’s drive ended on a barrier island. Jupiter Island.

“Are we on another planet?” Yasmin asked from the back seat, smiling.

They’d left the house before dawn, Zahra having told her daughter that their destination was “a surprise.” That was kind of true—at least not as blatantly false as telling her that they were borrowing a friend’s car because Zahra’s was broken, or that she was wearing no headscarf because she’d forgotten it. The idea was to avoid detection by state troopers or anyone else who might see an AMBER Alert for a Muslim mother leaving Miami with her seven-year-old daughter. Not until they’d exited the interstate and driven as far east as possible did Zahra begin to relax. South Beach Road was a quiet residential street abutted by nature preserves and pristine dunes that, along with the sea turtles, made Jupiter Island a unique ecological haven.

“We’re still in Florida,” said Zahra. “I have no idea why they call it Jupiter.”

“It’s where the boys go,” said Yasmin.

“What?”