Page 23

An internal NSA investigation hadn’t found foul play or a specific reason for Ethan’s vanishing, either. Espionage, always the first thing that the NSA considered in the disappearance or death of an employee, had been ruled out for lack of evidence. The investigation had also found no proof of marital infidelity, alcoholism, money problems, or unsavory habits. By all accounts, Ethan Sinclair had been an upstanding American citizen.

Two brilliant men with two tragic and illogical outcomes.

When the Hidden Avenger first appeared, he’d claimed that the NSA had been spying on American citizens without permission. An immediate NSA investigation had been launched regarding those claims, but no evidence of such spying had been found.

But what if the investigation was wrong or had supported a cover-up?

Fear. It had to be what drove Ethan. Candace rubbed her temples. Ethan Sinclair believed his friend J. P. Lando had been murdered, and whatever he knew about that frightened him enough that he’d vanished, afraid for his own life and the lives of his family.

So, if she were to accept that conclusion, she had to also acknowledge the possibility that someone at the NSA had, in fact, been illegally spying on American citizens with J. P. ‘s and Ethan’s back door and had killed to keep it quiet while manipulating the subsequent investigation.

Who would be in a position to do that? Candace tapped her pencil on the notepad and began writing.

1.) Who had Ethan and J. P. been working for on their top-secret project, and who would be privy to the capabilities of the program?

2.) If J. P. had suspected the program was being used for nefarious purposes, to whom would he report this information?

3.) Who conducted the internal NSA investigation on the disappearance of Ethan Sinclair?

4.) Who had been homing in on her investigation of the Hidden Avenger and badgering her at every turn?

The answer to all four questions was the same: Isaac Remington.

Was that Ethan’s plan? For her to come to her own conclusion? She circled Remington’s name round and round with her pen. If she was right, she was now caught in a sticky web of danger and deceit—one that had been hidden and possibly flourishing for fourteen years at the NSA.

She had her chief suspect.

Now what did she intend to do about it?

Chapter Fifteen

ANGEL SINCLAIR

We made it back to UTOP with less than an hour to spare before we were all required to leave campus.

After our walk, Jax and I returned to my mom’s apartment and did a quick cleanup. I made a few calls to the local hospital. I figured if anyone was listening, it would indicate concern, but not panic. Jax made a big deal of playing down her disappearance, and I pretended to believe him. I told him I’d call around to some of my mom’s friends when I got back from UTOP to see if she’d gone somewhere with them, even though I knew she’dnevergo anywhere without letting me and Gwen know first, and also taking care of Mr. Toodles. But it wasn’t too hard to play a disaffected teenager, and my mom’s life depended on it, so I made it work. We didn’t say anything about calling the police, and whoever was bugging my phone would know I didn’t call them.

“Buy time, Angel,” my dad had said. That’s what I had to do.

We left the apartment, and as I had no other immediate option, we took Mr. Toodles and some dog supplies with us. We made a brief stop at a gas station for fuel, snacks, and burner phones. I’d borrowed my mom’s credit card before we left the house. I intended to pay her back once we saved her, but at the moment, we desperately needed operational money, and it was the only thing I had at hand.

During the drive back to UTOP, I spent the entire car ride talking on the burner phone with the dog curled on my lap. One phone call later, I’d secured the site for our command center.

The entire team was waiting for us when we arrived, grouped at a couple of the benches in the courtyard. Suitcases, backpacks, and laptop bags littered the ground. I saw my stuff in one pile near Frankie, grateful she’d packed my bag and equipment as I’d requested.

I held Mr. Toodles in my arms as we approached the group. As soon as he saw Frankie, he yapped and wiggled until I put him down. He ran toward her, and she scooped him up, raining kisses and pets on him. No surprise there—everyone loved Frankie.

“Oh, you sweet little thing,” Frankie fussed, scratching him behind his ears. “What in the world are you doing here?” She looked quizzically at me. “Angel, what’s going on? How’s your mom?”

Jax came and stood beside me. His presence steadied me. I was an extremely private person, so asking for help, even from my own team, was excruciatingly difficult. But I took a deep breath and started.

“Thanks for waiting for me and Jax to return. I know it’s a bit cold out here, but I needed to make sure we weren’t overheard.”

“Why?” Frankie asked, her expression becoming increasingly alarmed. “What happened?”

There was no way to ease into it. Just saying it made me sick to my stomach. “My mom has been kidnapped.”

There was a collective gasp, and everyone started talking at once. I held up a hand, asking everyone to keep their voices down and listen. “Please, I don’t want anyone to overhear. I believe my mother was kidnapped by the same person, or people, who tried to kidnap me.”