Page 64 of Avenging Angel

I let Daisy go first so she can hug her brother. He’s been just as worried as I’ve been, but for entirely different reasons. And even though he’s known that she’s all right, there’s something comforting about seeing it for yourself. As I pass by the sibling duo and head into the cabin, I hear Owen say, “I knew you had some cuts and scrapes, but you didn’t say anything about your face looking like it went through a meat grinder.”

Behind me, I hear the thud of Daisy punching her brother’s arm.

Once Daisy is done getting smothered by the rest of the team, she sits in a chair and her smile dims. “I would have come home as soon as I got out of the hospital, but I had to travel to the site where Emily had been camping with Brad before she died. Her parents, Mason and Gemma Bloom, go there every year on the anniversary of her death.”

Gently rubbing the tension from Daisy’s shoulders as I stand behind her, I ask, “What did they say about their son? Do they have one?”

“Yes, but according to them, he died in a tragic car accident when he drove off a cliff in the Rockies. By the time the firefighters contained the fire that had spread from the vehicle, there wasn’t enough left of it to identify the remains. The Blooms were told that temperatures reached above 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit, which destroyed all DNA evidence, including the teeth.”

“Then he could still be alive,” Roger says. “If he went through all the trouble of setting fires to the records rooms of the school and hospital, plus a cyberattack on the Vital Statistics Office in Denver, then he could easily have faked his own death. But why?”

Daisy reaches for my hand on her shoulder like it’s a lifeline. “Gemma Bloom said that her son ‘snapped’ the day Emily died. He blamed Brad for not protecting his sister, but he also blamed himself. His guilt ate away at him, and he closed himself off from the rest of the family. His job was secretive, and they often didn’t see him for months at a time. After the funeral, they only heard from him once, when he called the morning of his death to say goodbye.”

“Suicide,” Scott says.

“Or made to look like it,” Daisy replies. “If I was kidnapping people for Dominion, I wouldn’t want there to be any trace of my existence, nor would I want it to lead to my family. Add in the ‘goodbye’ call, and there wasn’t any reason to investigate the cause of death.”

Owen goes over to the computer and hits a few keys to bring the screen to life because we have news of our own to share with Daisy. “Did you get a name or see a picture?”

Daisy pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Yes to the name; no to the picture. All the photos of their son were in the house. And when they go to the campsite every year, they don’t take their phones because they don’t want to be disturbed while they spend time reminiscing about Emily. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway; there weren’t pictures on their phones because they were dumb phones. The basic and cheap kind that can’t store photos.”

“How did you find the Blooms, Daisy?” Vinny asks.

“I’m wondering how they took the news of their home being destroyed?” Jaxon asks. “I can’t imagine that went over well.”

Faith hands Daisy a mug of cocoa. “And where’s Bennett?”

Wincing as the heat from the beverage hits the tender, raw skin on her cheek, Daisy sets down the mug. “I already knew the name of the campground from when Owen researched Emily’s death. But it was Special Agent Dunlap who took me to their location and delivered the news. When he was canvassing the neighborhood to see if anyone saw anything, one of the neighbors told him, ‘The Blooms were lucky that they weren’t home,’ and then mentioned where they go every year. It’s a good thing he was with me because I sincerely doubt the Blooms would have talked to me otherwise.”

Daisy shifts in her chair, trying to get comfortable as she continues to answer questions. “As for Bennett, he’s recuperating in the hospital with a mild concussion and a renal contusion that required surgery to stop the internal bleeding. He should be fine, but the doctors wanted to keep him for observation. It should be a few weeks before he’s moving around normally.”

“At least we don’t have to deal with him,” Owen sneers.

“Bennett saved my life by risking his! Whatever this grudge you have with the CIA, it needs to stop being targeted at the individual level. Even the FBI is far from perfect, an agency you still work for. So please, for my sake, Angel’s, and Vinny’s too, stop it! I owe Bennett a debt; one which I will not repay by listening to you chastise him.”

The room goes silent as we wait for Owen to fire back a smart-alecky comment. Instead, he looks at Vinny, then at me. “Daisy’s right, and I’m sorry. While I still believe the CIA barrel has more rotten apples than good ones, I shouldn’t assume that you all are morally corrupt. You and Vinny have proven otherwise, which proves my sister’s point.” Then he looks at Daisy. “As far as Bennett is concerned, I’ll stop treating him like the scourge of the earth, but the jury’s still out on whether his moral compass points north. He gets a free pass this one time, but only because he saved your life.”

Daisy walks over and wraps her arms around her brother’s neck to hug him. “Thank you. We have enough trouble on our plate without adding to it.”

Owen opens a file, and several pictures pop up on the screen. “Speaking of trouble, I was running a special search over the past week. Roger mentioned that the CIA took over when he and Director Finnegan were working another case where Eva Vidal’s DNA was found at the scene. It matched Maarika Kivemäe, who was the mistress of Andrus Saarenõlv, an Estonian diplomat who was rising in power as leader of the Renewal Front. It got me thinking.”

Daisy snorts. “That’s dangerous territory.”

“Ha. Ha. I took the pictures of the first few girls who went missing and used a program that ages them. Not only that, since they were taken specifically for their features, I had the program account for minor cosmetic changes that would fool a surveillance camera without generating a completely new face.”

“Like cheek implants and Botoxed lips?” Daisy asks.

“Yep. I also accounted for rhinoplasty, chin implants, and even eyelid surgery. There were thousands of combinations. Last night, when everyone was sleeping, I got a hit. Nuri Han.”

Owen pulls up the original photo of Nuri Han and then the one that got a hit. “The program has it at a 63% match.”

“That’s better than zero,” Daisy says excitedly. She starts reading the information. “Her name is now Lee Kiyung-mi, and she’s married to Lee Min-jun and has been for 12 years. Lee Min-jun is one of the ministers in the State Council of South Korea, appointed by the President. They have three children together: two boys, Ji-ho and Ha-joon, and a daughter, Haeun, ages ten, eight, and five respectively.”

Vinny asks Owen to pull up the file on Lee Min-jun. “Where did he and his wife meet?”

“She was sold to him,” I say, stating what I think is an obvious answer. “Why does it matter?”

Owen corrects me. “Actually, they met at a gala in D.C. 13 years ago when Min-jun was a newly-elected National Assembly Member to the Legislative Branch of the South Korean government. Kiyung-mi was a server at the dinner and spilled a pitcher of water on him. It was love at first sight. Daisy, I can’t be sure that Nuri and Kiyung-mi are the same person.”