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Vaughn’s career and had read most of her articles. The journalist’s ingenuity was impressive. At the same time, he was amazed that she had survived this long without anyone targeting her. With Mateo Russo, Taylor Vaughn’s luck had run out.
    Their biggest obstacle was finding where Russo had stashed her. The man had created an intricate web of hideouts that crisscrossed the globe. Many of the locations were fake, and a dozen or more were real. Finding the one where Vaughn was being held would take time. But just how much time did Taylor Vaughn have?
    The buzzer on his desk sounded. Without taking his eyes from the monitor in front of him, he pressed answer. “Yes?”
    “Noah, there’s a William Larson on line one. I’ve taken the pertinent information, but he insists on speaking with you. I know that you usually like to read the background facts before you talk to a prospective client. It’s just…this man…” She cleared her throat. “He’s quite insistent.”
    Vicki Jackson was one of his most experienced screeners. As the wife of a law enforcement officer and the mother of two Navy SEALs, she wasn’t easy to spook or rile. From the tone of her voice, Noah knew William Larson had managed to do both.
    “Send me what you have on him.”
    Within seconds, Noah was looking at the bare facts on the case of a young woman who had been missing for eight years. Larson, a freelance computer consultant, was her father. The woman, Jessica Larson, was twenty-nine years old and had a long history of mental illness.  
    “Did he say anything out of line to you, Vicki?”
    “No. Not really. There’s just something about him that put me on edge.”
    Noah admired Vicki’s instincts. If there was something off about the guy, Noah believed her.
    “I’ll take the call.”
    Seconds later, Noah pressed a button and said, “This is Noah McCall.”
    “Thank you for taking my call, Mr. McCall. That woman didn’t want to put me through. She—”
    “ That woman is doing her job. How can I help you?”
    There was a second of awkward silence, and then Larson said, “Of course. Of course. It’s just that I’m at my wit’s end. You’re my last hope, Mr. McCall.”
    “I see that your daughter, Jessica, has been missing for eight years now?”
    “Yes. We’ve tried everything trying to find her.”
    “And she has a history of mental illness? What is her diagnosis?”
    “She’s delusional, Mr. McCall. It started around her eighteenth birthday. Up until then, she was a normal, happy-go-lucky, young woman.”
    “Any history of self-inflicted harm or violence to others?”
    “No, not really. Just mostly paranoia.”
    “She was twenty-one when she disappeared?”
    “Um. Yes.”
    The hesitancy in Larson’s speech could have been a normal response to Noah’s somewhat intrusive questions. If Larson thought those few queries were intrusive, he hadn’t heard anything yet.
    “Where are you located, Mr. Larson?”
    “Located? You mean, where do I live now?”
    “Yes.”
    “Uh, um. Chicago.”
    “I have business in Chicago on Monday. I can meet you at one. Bring all the information you have on Jessica.”
    “Oh, couldn’t we meet sooner? I can come to your office. Where are you located?”
    “The Drake Hotel in Chicago. One o’clock Monday. That’s my offer.”
    “Well, of course, of course. I just thought…” Larson gave a long, overly dramatic sigh. “I’m just so eager to find her, Mr. McCall, but I’ll comply with your timeframe.”
    “I’ll see you then.”
    Noah slumped back in his chair, frowning at the phone. Vicki’s instincts were indeed sound. There was something off about William Larson. A fakeness to his tone had put Noah on alert and made him highly curious. Just what was William Larson hiding?
    Pressing another button on his phone, he waited until one of his best researchers answered, then said, “Deidre, get me everything you can on a William Larson. Says he’s in Chicago, but I have my