Page 57 of Second Chance Serenity

Given that I don’t have a lot of history with fake government IDs, I can’t tell if it’s real or fake. But my gut tells me it’s the latter. Still, I slide it back toward him. “Since when does the FBI crash into people’s vehicles and tranquilize them?”

“Since we needed this to be completely off the record.” He opens the folder and withdraws a picture. He slides it onto the table, and I find myself staring down at an image of Carter crossing the street, talking on a phone. “Do you know this man?”

“Where is Michael?” I demand.

“In another room having his injuries tended to.” He runs a finger over his bloodied knuckles, almost in mocking.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asks.

“Because you’re the ones who caused his injuries.”

“Miss Acker, I can assure you that we saved your life by getting to you when we did.”

I don’t believe his lie for a second. “Then let me see Michael.”

“After I get some answers, I will take you to him.” He taps the photograph of Carter. “Now. Do you know this man?”

“No,” I lie. “Am I supposed to?”

Asher smiles again. “I know you’re lying. But I can imagine you’re nervous, so let me help you out. That is Carter Acker. Your brother, and head prosecutor for the city of Boston, Massachusetts.”

I don’t say a word.

“We have reason to believe he’s wrapped up in something illegal.”

He’s fishing, so I continue to keep my mouth shut.

“Miss Acker, this will all go a lot smoother if you just answer us.”

“I want to see Michael.”

“After we’re done here.”

“No. I want to see him now.”

“Not possible until you answer my questions.”

“Then get me my lawyer. I’m entitled to one.”

Asher leans in closer. “Go ahead and call your brother, then.” He slides a cell phone across the table. “I imagine he’s who you’d call, correct?”

I swallow hard. It’s a trap. I know it’s a trap. And yet the urge to phone my brother, to let him know something is wrong, is so strong I have to actively fight against it.

I cross my arms.

He chuckles and puts the phone back into his pocket. “As I said. Your brother is wrapped up in some illegal stuff, Miss Acker. We merely need information on his whereabouts.”

“Looks like you’ve been tracking him. Seems to me you could figure it out yourself.”

“One would think so,” he says. “But as it turns out, your brother has deep pockets and an even deeper connection network. We can’t track him or his family aside from the times he’s in his office. He hasn’t been staying at his house, and his car has remained parked in the underground garage at his office building.”

My stomach twists again. All of this is wrong. Everything he’s saying is wrong. “Let me see Michael.” I plant both hands on the desk. “Now.” Jaxson will have sent out an emergency signal, right? Won’t he know we’re missing?

“Miss Acker. This can be as easy or as difficult as you make it. Give me the information I want, and I will let you and Mr. Anderson go.”

“So we are being held captive here. We have rights.”

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