“Elton,” he murmured, sending a chill through her. Whoever was behind kidnapping these kids, then later releasing them, had a strange and twisted agenda. Was the kidnapper trying to clone the children or maybe their experience with them? Were there more kids out there whose real identity hadn’t been discovered yet? The question that bothered her the most—would the kidnapper ever stop?
“So what do you think?” she asked. She’d been working hard on some of these missing children cases. While she wasn’t looking for a pat on the back, she respected Dante and his opinion. Maybe a part of her wanted him to realize that her obsession with finding their daughter wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, that her hard work could pay off and help other families.
“We need a map of the U.S.”
Her belly fluttered with excitement. He was going to help her. She stood, went to the corner of the dining room and looked through one of the brown accordion folders stacked on the floor. After finding the map, she brought it to him.
He unfolded the map, which was larger than she remembered and approximately four feet by two. “Can we hang this?” he asked, looking around the dining room, specifically at the walls.
She collected a handful of push pins from a junk box filled with paperclips, highlighters, and pens and pencils. “We can hang it over these newspaper clippings,” she suggested, taking the map from him.
He rose and helped. “Do you have any more of those pins?”
“Here.” She handed him the junk box. “What are you thinking? Pinpoint the locations where the boys were found?”
“That, and where they were taken.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Or do we need to uncover that info?”
“Only for the most recent boy,” she said, and went back to the card table to retrieve the folder she’d given Dante to look through. When she found the first kidnapped child in the file, she approached the map. “Okay, about nine years ago, the first boy, whose case description fit with the others, was found in Shreveport, Louisiana.”
He pressed the red push pin on Shreveport. “But you didn’t have the program until five years ago.”
“After I discovered Max’s case, I remembered this one. I’d come across it when I initially began using Rachel’s program. At that time though, there were no other cases connected and I was busy working on…our case. Plus, Max had called himself Elton. And the boy prior to Max, couldn’t say his name properly. So again, I didn’t make a connection.” She pulled her notes on the nine-year-old investigation. “Last night, when I came across the Attempt to Identify bulletin from Lamoni, it jogged my memory and I went back and looked at the two cases I knew about, then started digging backward looking for anything similar. That’s when I found out about the boy from Louisiana.”
“I guess you have been busy,” he said, and sent her a smile. “Tell me about the Shreveport kid.”
“A Methodist minister discovered the toddler when he was leaving through the church’s back door. Shreveport police eventually turned to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, who in turn, matched the boy to several infant and toddler abduction cases. They eventually found out that the boy, whose real name is Cody, was abducted when he was six months old from his home in Atlanta, Georgia.”
He pressed a blue push pin into Atlanta. “I’m assuming the boy was also blond and blue-eyed.”
“Actually, his eyes were brown. But, he was also found in a Roll-Baby umbrella stroller and he called himself Elton.”
“No coincidence there.”
“Exactly.” She pulled her notes on the next case. “Now, the boy I came across when I started using the program was found in Blythe, California. A library employee discovered him outside of the building around nine in the morning.”
“What time of day was the Shreveport boy found?”
“About eight-thirty at night. I haven’t found any similarities with regards to the time when the kids were left behind.” She glanced back to her notes. “Back to Blythe. Local PD turned the case over to the California Missing Persons Unit. It took them six months before they located the boy’s parents—in Wichita, Kansas. His real name is Patrick.”
Dante searched through the junk box, then pulled out another blue push pin and placed it on Wichita. “And how much time passed between the drops.”
The drops. She didn’t like the term, but that was exactly what these cases were. Whoever was behind the kidnappings was dropping off these boys as if they were leaving dogs they’d decided they hadn’t liked at the pound.
“Close to three years between each case.”
He stared at her, but he wasn’t really staring at her. He was thinking. She knew him well, and knew that faraway look in his eyes meant he was pondering, calculating and considering. He blinked, as if woken from a trance. “Tell me about the next kid.”
“That would be Max, the boy found at the fire station. Like I said, he was found in New Brunswick, New Jersey. His parents were located within days of his discovery. Turns out he was taken from Louisville, Kentucky. He was also found about three years after Patrick.”
After he put the red and blue pins, signifying Max’s abduction and where he’d been found, he tapped the map, his index finger landing on Lamoni, Iowa. “The boy found outside of Graceland University, he fits the description, but we don’t have an ID.” He replaced his finger with a red pin, then took a step back and stared at the map. “Even once we know who he really is and where he was abducted from, I don’t think it’ll help find the kidnapper. At least not yet.” He waved his arm at the map. “There’s no rhyme or reason to the abductions or the drop locations. They zigzag across the country.”
She slumped into the folding chair, and brushed the hair from her face. “I know. The only pattern is that they’re all boys, fitting close to the same description and, of course, the approximate timeline of three years between abductions.”
“The name Elton, too.”
“For three of them.”
“Come on, Jessica. It’s clear—”
She raised a hand. “I’m not disputing anything. Just bringing up a point. But,” she added, “the one thing all of these kids have in common is that they were all found in a Roll-Baby umbrella stroller.”
“Couldn’t those be bought anywhere?”
“I haven’t gotten that far. But if it’s a specific brand, maybe the stroller could be tracked…never mind.”
He stepped away from the map and took a seat in the folding chair next to hers. “Don’t discount the stroller,” he said, sitting too close, his arm and leg brushing along hers. When they’d lived together, there had been many evenings where they’d spent time discussing cases they had both been working. She couldn’t count the times they’d been on the couch, or in their kitchen, or on the back patio, talking through the day, through their frustrations. During those long discussions, she’d never thought twice about reaching over and touching him. Those simple touches had helped her through many trying investigations and bad days. She’d like to think they’d helped Dante, too. Just knowing he was there, like now, had an effect on her. He calmed her. His presence, his nearness, gave her a sense of belonging. Made her realize she wasn’t alone. Before she could question or second-guess herself for walking away from him in the first place, she scooted her chair back, disengaging their bodies.
“I don’t have cooties,” he said.
She smiled. “You used to.”
“Yeah, I did pick up some critters during that mission in Nicaragua,” he said with a grin, and scratched the back of his neck as if there were creepy crawlers on him. A few years after they were married, he’d gone on a search and rescue with his SEAL team. He and his team not only brought back the American hostages they were sent to rescue, but chiggers, too.
“So, you think the stroller could be a lead?” she asked, looking to her lap. He really sat too close. And, damn, did he smell good.
“It’s worth a shot. First, the boy in Lamoni needs an ID.”
“T
hat’s what I was doing when you broke into my apartment,” she said, and reopened the laptop browser to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children website.
He leaned in and pointed to the screen. “This is just a list of names. No date of birth or when they were abducted.”
“Unfortunately, after a couple of years, the kids are put on a list,” she said, and moved the arrow on the screen over the photographs. “The ones you see in these pictures here went missing within the past year. So, I’ve been clicking on each male listed below, hoping one of them is the boy from Lamoni.” She clicked on a name, Andrew Corrigan, saw that the boy had been nine when he’d been abducted by his father, then closed his information and moved on to the next boy on the list. “It’s necessary, busy work.”
“My laptop is at the office, otherwise I’d grab it and—”
“That’s okay. You should probably get back to work anyway,” she said, even though she didn’t want him to leave. Instead of butting heads, they’d been working as a team for the past hour. She’d missed that partnership, being able to bounce ideas off each other, using their investigative skills to work a difficult case.
She’d missed being near him. Now that he was here, taking up too much space next to her, she realized how much she’d isolated herself. If she didn’t have a job, she’d be a recluse. If need be, she would never have to leave her apartment and could even order in her groceries. Other than Alex and her cousin, Shannon, and the people she worked with, she hardly spoke with anyone. Her parents had taken the disappearance hard and, like Dante’s folks, couldn’t talk about it. She used to see a psychologist, but that had ended in disaster. She hadn’t been interested in learning how to grieve properly when she had no intention of giving up hope that she would eventually find her daughter.
Although she didn’t want to live like a hermit in her cramped one bedroom apartment, and had grown tired of being alone, she couldn’t return home. Aside from the daunting amount of memories still lingering within the walls of her and Dante’s house, too much time had passed for her to go back to her old life. She was no longer a mother and, in name only, remained Dante’s wife.
I was a fool for waiting on you…I don’t want a divorce, and I hate living here without you. I lied to get you here tonight because I wanted to see if there was anything left between us.
She quickly shoved Dante’s words to the furthest recesses of her mind. He had been a fool for waiting on her. There might still be something between them and she might still love him, but she couldn’t fall back into his arms. When their daughter had disappeared, her plans for the future had, too. How could she ever find happiness without their child? She couldn’t. The guilt would eat at her. The thought of laughing and making plans for the next stages of her life without her daughter made her sick inside. Until she held her baby girl again, she’d never be satisfied. And she couldn’t go back to Dante broken and living on a precarious edge of despair and misery. Dante wouldn’t understand the depressing emotions that ate at her daily. He simply didn’t understand the bond between mother and daughter.
“Seriously, you don’t need to stick around,” she began when he didn’t move to leave, “I’ll keep looking and will call if I find anything.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Sure you will,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
With a sad shake of his head, he stood. “You won’t call about this. You won’t call me about anything. Other than your damned nagging texts, I never hear from you. If it wasn’t for Alex, I wouldn’t know if you were dead or alive.”
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“So the hell what?” He moved for the door. “I’m tired of you dismissing me.”
“I didn’t dismiss you. I just don’t see the point of you sitting here while I look through all of these names. You have a job and—”
“You do, too. And if you lose it, then what?”
She rubbed her temple where a throb began to build. “I’m not going to lose my job and I’m not dismissing you. But, once again, you’re taking one little thing I said, shifting it around and making it all about you.”
“It’s never been about me,” he said, his voice harsh, his eyes narrowed. He turned the knob. “I’m not doing this again. Call or don’t call. I’m starting not to care either way.” He opened the door. “So you know, I am proud of what you’ve been doing. I’m also very interested in this case and would like to help. But that might force you to be around me, which is something you’ve been trying to avoid for over three years.”
He had her there. But she wouldn’t tell him that being near him was agonizing, or that he symbolized everything she’d lost. She’d already hurt him enough. “I will call you. The stroller connection might be something Rachel could look into for me.”
A small, wry smile tilted the corner of his mouth and he looked at her with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. “No us, huh? And you have the audacity to act like I’m a selfish prick making it all about me. You might want to check yourself. Take a look in the mirror and see who’s been the selfish one.” He stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him.
“Check yourself,” she mumbled, staring at the closed door. He had a lot of nerve to accuse her of being selfish. Yes, she should have done them both a favor and signed the divorce papers before they’d ended up invalid. But she hadn’t because—
Damn. She had been selfish. Instead of continuing her search through the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children website, she should contact her attorney, put them both out of misery and re-file for divorce. She looked to the laptop screen, at the large list of children needing to be found. Her stomach knotted and her chest tightened with trepidation. The thought of calling her attorney had the ache in her lower back and legs returning. She’d taken today off to work on this case. If she were to be productive, she couldn’t call her attorney now. She would likely wind up dwelling on her decision and losing precious time.
She touched the laptop, moving the cursor to another boy’s name on the list. She and Dante had been separated for over three years. A few more days wouldn’t make a difference.
*
“Selling the Honda was easy-breezy,” she said, pulling out the wad of cash she’d been given for her eight-year-old car. “I don’t see any reason for you to be mad over it.”
“I’m not mad about the car.” Wayne finished washing his hands, then reached for the roll of paper towels setting on the kitchen counter. “I do think you should’ve talked to me about it first. An important decision like that is something married people discuss. I wouldn’t go out and buy a new truck without talking to you first.”
Only because I hold the purse strings. “I get it, hon. I also think making ten grand—cash—off the car was good business.”
“Yeah, you did good,” he said, drying his hands with the paper towel. “Sounds like you had a better day than me.”
She placed the money in the small, portable safe that contained the rest of her and Wayne’s savings. “Oh, c’mon, hon. Don’t be down about being laid off. You were gonna quit anyway.” When he’d come home, all gloomy about losing his job, it took everything in her to not tell him to man up and quit acting girly. What did it matter that he was laid off? They were leaving for Chicago today and starting fresh again.
“I know,” he said with a sigh, and looked around the small kitchen. “I guess between losing the boy yesterday and now my job, I just feel all jumbled inside. Like everything familiar is disappearing. We’re leaving our house and, hell, even your car is gone.”
“Just because there isn’t a little one around doesn’t mean you should take up cussing again.” She set the safe next to their suitcase and the diaper bag she’d packed earlier. “And you need to stop looking at the negative and remember the positive. When one chapter of life ends, a new one begins. It’s God’s way. Besides,” she said, and reached for his hand. �
��You still have me.”
His eyes softened and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
That was an understatement. Her husband was a good man, simple, hardworking and honest. He thought too much with his heart, and not enough with his head. Good thing she knew what was best for them. If it wasn’t for her, they might still be living in their tiny mobile home in Wauchula, Florida. No. Hurricane Charley would have probably ripped it to shreds and they’d be like her aunt and cousin, still trying to recoup their losses. Then again, she hadn’t spoken to her family, so she really couldn’t be sure how they were doing.
Wayne’s nonsense talk suddenly had nostalgia seeping into her bones. She sure did miss her aunt and cousin. They were the only blood link she had to her mama. Too bad she couldn’t contact them. But cutting ties had been and would always be a necessity, and making new friends wasn’t an option or a risk she was willing to take. Wayne was going to have to buck up and move forward, and put his faith in God. What he really needed to do was stop his belly aching and load up the truck.
She had a baby to deliver.
*
Dante stifled a yawn and glanced at his watch. He pushed the stack of papers he’d been looking through across his desk and stood. “It’s just past six,” he said with a stretch. “Let’s work on this Monday.”
Lola let the highlighter she’d been holding slip to the desk. “I’ll take these files with me and work on it over the weekend.”
“Take a couple of days and let your batteries recharge. It’ll be here on Monday.”
Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) Page 9