At 2:15, my phone rang. Tamson’s name on the screen.
“Don’t answer,” Ryan said. “Not yet.”
I let it ring through to voicemail. Seconds later, Ryan’s phone rang. He answered and quietly activated speaker phone.
Tamson’s voice, “Ryan, where are the kids? I’m at your mom’s house. It’s empty.”
Ryan, eerily calm.
Hey, mom took Grace and Liam on a trip to visit Paul Henderson in Santa Fe. She thought the kids needed a break.
Why didn’t anyone tell me?
It was last minute. You were swamped with your conference. We didn’t want to bother you.
Tamson’s voice tightened.
Ryan, this feels wrong. Why would your mother take my children without asking me?
Our children, Tamson. And she left you a note.
A vague note. No name, no location.
Mom took them out of state. They needed air. I’ll update you later.
Long silence.
When are they coming back?
Sunday. Just a week.
I want to talk to them.
They’re probably napping. Long travel day. Mom will call you tonight.
Promise me they’re okay.
I promise.
Technically true.
The call ended. Ryan’s hands shook.
That bought us 12 hours. She’s expecting a call tonight.
Paul was already dialing.
You need a lawyer right now. Diana Foster, best criminal defense attorney in Santa Fe. She’s expecting you at 3.
Paul drove us to Diana’s office downtown. Modern building, glass and steel. Diana Foster was younger than I’d imagined. Early 40s, sharp suit, sharper eyes.
Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Archer, show me everything.
I laid out the evidence for the third time in 18 hours. Diana studied each item carefully. the receipt 350,000 S. Ivanov. Her eyebrows rose.
I know this name.
Diana turned to her computer, typing rapidly. After a few minutes, she rotated the screen toward us.
Sergey Ivanov, Russian national 45, suspected kingpin of international trafficking operations. FBY’s been investigating him for 5 years. Multiple Interpol warrants.
Then Diana picked up the photos of Grace and Liam. those red circles. Her professional calm cracked.
My god, these are your grandchildren.
Yes, I whispered.
In trafficking cases, when children are marked like this, they’re being identified for buyers. Red circles mean they’ve been selected.
The room tilted.
Diana reached for her phone, dialed from memory.
Agent Thomas Blake, Diana Foster, Santa Fe. I have a case needing urgent federal attention. Human trafficking. Children in imminent danger.
She listened, then looked at us.
He’ll be here in 20 minutes.
At 3:25, Diana’s receptionist announced, “Agent Blake is here.”
Through the office door, a man in a dark suit stepped in, “FBI badge at his belt. He looked at the photos of Grace and Liam with those angry red circles, and his expression shifted.”
“My sister,” he said quietly. “She was taken by traffickers when she was 8, 20 years ago. We never found her.”
He looked up at me.
Mrs. Archer, I will make sure your grandchildren don’t become statistics like my sister. Tell me everything.
Agent Blake needed proof. Hard proof. Photos and receipts aren’t enough. He’d said, “We need to prove Ivangh and your daughter are actively planning Thursday’s delivery. We need communications, financial records, evidence of intent.”
That’s when Ryan made the decision that terrified me.
There’s a safe in our bedroom, he said. I’ve seen Tamson open it late at night. She doesn’t know I know the combination.
Blake leaned forward.
What’s in it?
Ryan’s jaw set.
That’s what I’m about to find out.
Ryan booked a 5:30 flight back to Fairview.
Are you sure about this? I asked him at the airport.
We need what’s in that safe. Blake made it clear without more evidence this is just domestic suspicion.
Ryan hugged me.
Keep the kids safe. I’ll be back tomorrow morning with the proof.
Back at Paul’s house, I sat in his study with Diana and agent Blake, phone on speaker, waiting for Ryan’s call from Fairview.
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