Now on Preorder
Undercover FBI – Book #11 To be released on May 22, 2021
This book was an incredible challenge for me to write. You see… Agent Makayla hears the cries of children in trouble, and the conflicts keep building because of her mysterious talent. This is not a paranormal story. I needed to create a believable character for the readers and still have her strange power be acceptable in today’s world of bizarre and strange happenings. I believe I explained it in such a way as to be a possibility. I hope you agree. Hugs, Mimi
Back Page Blurb:
Makayla hears the cries of children in trouble.
People don’t understand, and it’s complicated for Special Agent Makayla to explain. In her mind, she doesn’t have special powers. It’s just fallout from the days when she was blind… before the operation that restored her sight. Back then, she’d learned to use her other senses, rely on her instincts, and listen intensely. Except her uncanny ability is beyond reason.
Because of her gift, she works with the Special Victims Unit and takes on all the cases of vanishing kids where the usual processes haven’t worked. Sickened by many of her assignments, she finds joy when she sees the kids free and healing. Her biggest stress… they just keep on disappearing.
Dean Andrews desperately needs help. His nine-year-old niece has gone missing and the only person he’s told that can save her is a kook who mysteriously hears the cries of terrified children. How can he put his trust in this wild-haired woman with striking eyes and a heart bigger than her tiny body?
Yet, he has no other choice. His sister begs him to find her little girl… and he promises. Now he must deliver. Time is running out and everywhere he’s turned leads to yet another dead end.
Working as a team, they hunt the dark web, become involved in porn webcam sites, and do whatever is necessary to find his niece before she’s lost forever.
Excerpt: Chapter One
Special Agent Makayla wondered if she’d get away with it this time; walking up to a house and demanding entrance. As crazy as it might sound, she had no doubt a kid was being held hostage in the place; her astonishing senses were certain. Though the poor child called out in desperation to a void where she believed no one heard her, it didn’t stop her from pleading for help.
Makayla imagined what the scared little one in pain was going through… as if the whole world could care less that he or she needed to be found. Alone and in torment, it was the emotion that seeped into the air around the house and connected with Makayla. Maybe no one else picked up on it, but to Makayla, the imaginary screams rang in her own head and couldn’t be ignored.
Every time this happened, she’d get that same tightening in her gut. The throbbing reaction made her feel like she had to hurl or scream or hit something… preferably the culprit who was responsible for causing such terror in a child.
An anonymous informant had called in this address and since these child-in-trouble cases had become her special assignments lately, they’d turned over the file to Makayla so she would come to see for herself if there really was something weird going on.
The informant didn’t have much more to say other than she was creeped out by her neighbor’s behavior. She’d caught him hiding behind a tree, staring at her own little girl, and it had given her the willies. Positive that the man had something going on in his basement and basing it on the fact that she saw the lights on at all hours, and that he was over-the-top ridiculous about his privacy, she’d decided to file a complaint and hope the police would check it out.
Normally, the local NYPD investigated every weird, crazy grievance, especially with so much corruption in Queens these days. And so, the uniforms had paid a visit to the address. Sadly, they found no reason to force the issue, break into the guy’s house or take the chance of getting sued. But their report had described the owner as one scary dude with a huge, unreasonable complex against the law.
Conversely, Makayla had no such hesitancy problems like her counterparts in the police department, especially if she knew there was a child inside who needed her.
They’d filed their report and as such cases did, it had sat in the computer until Makayla’s partner, Willie, at the Bureau had found it and pulled it out as one of the types of cases that would fit Makayla’s specialty. All police departments in Queens, particularly the Special Victims Unit, were notified that reports such as these were to be forwarded to the FBI and marked for further investigation rather than being dropped and forgotten.
In today’s sad world, too many of these child abduction cases were sliding past the authorities, and if Makayla, with her special abilities, could solve one here and there, the higher-ups were all over it. Every time she brought a kid out of a hellish situation, it made them look good. If she handled this properly, it would be her ninth rescue just this year and it was only March.
Taking the time to tie her wild hair back into a ponytail, she gathered up the squiggly, thick, dark mass of natural curls and had it contained in no time. Previously, she’d learned her lesson about letting it hang all around her face. The first time a perp used it as a weapon to gain control, she’d known better than to give anyone else the advantage again.
Checking that her gun was loose in the holster she wore under her body-hugging leather jacket, she approached the broken steps and mounted the porch. As soon as she got closer to the rundown pigsty, she’d known in her heart there was no time to lose. Every minute longer that child had to stay locked up, meant a century in hell. Just as she knocked, the door opened with such vigor that Makayla came close to falling inside.
The bulk of the stinking male body blocking her entrance held her up for as long as it took for her to wrench the son of a bitch’s arm up and behind him. She thrust his form against the wall, kicked at his legs to spread them, and held his fat frame by force.
“What the hell? Hey, lady, you can’t break into my house and manhandle me this way.”
“Says you. I say, I knocked on the door and you attacked me. Wrenched the door open so hard I fell forward, and you used your body in a suggestive way. Hell, asshole, I was afraid for my life.”
Wriggling, trying to get an opening where he could turn and use his fists, he forced his huge frame against her, pushing her so she crashed into an inside wall. Loose, he attacked, his fist coming close to her face. She pulled back a split second before he would have reached her chin and punched him in the side of his fat stomach, a strike that put him to his knees. Then her boot connected first with his chin and whirling around to build more force, she used her heel powerfully against his neck and down he went… stunned.
Before he could decide to get back in the fight, grabbing a strip tie from her jacket pocket, she forced his arms behind him and pulled the plastic band tight. There was no way she wanted him to be able to come at her again. She had no problem fighting, had done so often and with many different characters, but this guy reeked of sweat, booze, and rotten teeth. The further away she got from him, the better. To be sure he wouldn’t try to run, she bound his ankles together the same way.
Shuddering, she stood up and let her senses listen for the sounds that had drawn her into the place. Sure enough, she heard mewling cries and followed them to the basement.
At first glance, through light dimmed by dirt-encrusted windows, she saw nothing other than a mess of disgusting strewn clothes surrounding an ancient washer. They let off a specific musty smell that pulled her back in time.
Fighting off the horrific memories, she scanned the rest of the area. Old broken-down moldy cardboard boxes with piles of crap emerging from the open lids could be seen everywhere and told their own story of a hoarder.
Searching for a light switch, she finally found a pull string that worked in making a 40-watt bulb pitifully light the large space. Pulling her cellphone out, she used the flash app and was able to work her way around the cemented area by following the obvious path that the owner had used.
Soon, she came to a locked entrance. A key hung on a rope where it was easy to reach. Using it, she opened the door and waited, not sure what to expect from the occupant. Remembering her experience from a few years ago where she’d opened a cage to find a very disgruntled tiger cub, she’d learned to step carefully.
Shining her light around, she saw the mattress on the floor and made out the body of a small person in chains, cowering in fright. Taking her time, she started to talk slowly, in a warm voice so as not to frighten the hostage.
“I’m Agent Makayla. I’m here to help you, honey. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you, and that monster upstairs will never get to you again, I promise.”
The mewling sounds became louder. Cries of fear changed to wonder. Makayla crouched down and saw the eyes of a child, not an infant, but certainly not a teen. From the longish, straggly hair and slight body, she termed her as a female but the ragged dress she wore probably helped make the choice.
Makayla reached out and saw the hostage shrink back against the cement wall. Rather than move too fast, she continued to talk. “Sweetheart, is there a light we can turn on in here? I think my flashlight is bothering you.”
Slowly, a hand lifted, and the finger pointed at the string hanging from the ceiling. Sure enough, pulling it emitted a low glow throwing shadows everywhere.
Makayla knew instantly why the smell had attacked her nose with a vengeance. The disgusting toilet in the corner was a bucket and it hadn’t been emptied. Food packets lined the floor around the thin, torn mattress, and the ragged blanket hadn’t seen soap since… forever.
Knowing her boss would freak if she didn’t do her due diligence and take the photos his department might need in a court battle, she warned the child that she would be operating her camera and to close her eyes and ignore the glare. In seconds, she’d detailed the room and the hostage’s situation before speaking again.
Her heart hurting so bad she could hardly force out words, Makayla crouched closer, trying to make contact without scaring the poor creature.
Semi-human, seemingly unable to have faith in her savior, the scrawny lifeforce blinked, huge eyes staring, fear emanating, yet hope appearing in the extremely slow lifting of the hand that took so long to reach out.
As if the reality of another person in her cell had to be verified by laying her hand on the woman, Makayla very slowly lifted her arm to let the heartbreaking child touch it.
Feeling the fingers tentatively stroke her skin, she waited and smiled. That unnamable special sense that let her know when a child needed her seemed to glow all around and within seconds it had embraced the girl, and it was that warmth that must have made the difference.
As if that protective shield had seeped in, her tears changed from fearful cries to heartbreaking sad wails, and Makayla knew she could bring the darling out of her cell now.
“Do you know where he kept the keys for this chain, sweetheart?” Makayla pointed at the thin rope of steel that left a disgusting blackened mark on the child’s ankle.
The child looked down, refusing to speak. She probably didn’t know the answer.
Makayla tried pulling it from the cement and it didn’t give. Then she took her gun and using the handle, she whacked at the link closest to the wall joint. After a few good blows, it snapped off.
Gathering the chain and holding the scrawny body close now, she spoke into her mic to her partner, Willie, who’d waited for her signal. The call, which let her know she had the target, meant she could bring in the team.
Carrying the skinny captive in her arms like one would a baby, she stood and began to make her way back up the stairs. When they came close to the front door, the bright sunlight affected the child who hid her head against Makayla’s shoulder.
Suddenly, viciously struggling, the poor child showed extreme fear which let Makayla know that she’d seen the man on the floor. The prick had awakened and began thrashing against his ties. Once he saw Makayla carrying the child, he screamed vitriol that made her sick. “You can’t take my little girl, you bitch. She’s mine. I bought her. You fucking whore, let her go and get out of my house. You bitch!”
Makayla stooped to put the child down for the few seconds it took to walk over to the disgusting slimeball, and with all the force she had in her, she kicked him in the groin area… aware the pain there would be prolonged.
Before she knew what would happen, a whirlwind behind her rushed forward and began kicking at the screeching, curled up body, hogtied like a pig without his apple. Though her feet were bare other than the chain still attached, the whirlwind kicked and kicked while the chain snaked in all directions. Pretty soon, each strike was accompanied by a scream. Sounds that made the hair lift on Makayla’s head. Waiting, understanding how therapeutic this behavior could be, she crossed her arms and watched protectively.
Her partner, Willie, put a stop to the violence just by entering the house. Seeing another stranger, the child ran to hide beside Makayla who gathered her up once again and carried her to her SUV. There, she strapped her little friend into the seat next to her and headed in the direction of the one place filled with women and other kids who would be able to help this poor, sweet baby get through the hellish next few days… the next years.
Poor little soul.
Makayla’s heart wept.
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