Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  “We work together on cases periodically,” Dante added. “Detective Donavan was the one who’d made the initial connection.”

  “Glad to have you onboard, Detective,” Walters said. “As for your question, Elton’s a sweet kid. He was scared last night, but once I brought him home—”

  “He’s staying with you?” she asked. “I thought he was placed with Child Services.”

  “He will be, once they find him a foster family. Meanwhile, I think it’s a good set up. I have a daughter about his age and the two of them get along great. I think she’s helping him adjust. As for saying anything…the boy’s a chatterbox. He knows he’s two, his first name, he can count to fifteen, knows his shapes and colors—”

  “That’s great,” Dante said. “But has he said anything that’s jumped out at you? Like a reference to who he was living with, his bedroom, preschool?”

  “The fact the boy knows what he does did jump out at me. Someone had taken good care of him. He’s smart, healthy and when we found him, other than a little spaghetti sauce on his t-shirt, he was clean. Actually, everything was clean. There wasn’t a single fingerprint on the stroller or sippy cup. We did pull a hair off his sweatshirt, and sent it to Iowa DCI. It’ll be a few weeks before we get any results.”

  Damn. Jessica drummed her fingertips along the card table. Knowing how CORE operated, if they’d had that hair, Rachel would have had it processed within a day. “So no mention of a mom or dad?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah. At first, we figured the boy had only one parent and that maybe that person couldn’t handle or afford to take care of him anymore. Then today he started talking about his mommy and daddy, and asking when he’s going home.” He sighed. “Like I said, I have a daughter his age. I couldn’t imagine me and my wife just up and getting rid of her. Makes you wonder what was going through these peoples’ minds. Anyway, let me get that serial number and I’ll call you back. It should only take a few.”

  After Walters ended the call, she finally looked at Dante. “I wish we had that hair sample.”

  “The suspect would have to be in the national DNA database for it to matter. And I know that at least we’d have solid evidence against the kidnapper if we find him. I just don’t want you regretting not calling Walters sooner.”

  “When.”

  “When, what?”

  “When we find him—and her.” She placed her bare foot on the seat of the chair and hugged her knee. “I’m stunned that two people are behind these kidnappings.”

  “Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions? A, we don’t know for sure that the kidnappings are related. B, could be the kid’s parents simply wanted to get rid of him without dealing with adoption agencies. C, you’re taking the word of a two year old. And, D—”

  “Would you stop with the alphabet crap? Because one, my gut and the pattern that we found today tells me these kidnappings are related. Two, dealing with an adoption agency, versus facing felony charges for child abandonment, is a hell of a lot easier. And three, I have a hard time believing that a two-year-old would lie about having both a mom and a dad.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. Damn, it looked thick and soft. Until last year he’d stuck with a military crew cut. She hadn’t minded it, but what would it be like to grab a handful of all that hair while she—

  “I think we should call Shreveport, Blythe and New Brunswick PDs,” she said, trying to stay on track, even though the unfulfilled fantasy was way better than their current conversation. “It might take them some time to find the strollers they should still have as evidence.”

  “Walters said he’d call right back. Let’s wait for him.”

  “He already knows he’s dealing with CORE. And I guarantee he’s checking out your agency and checking with his boss before he goes ahead and gives us the serial number.” She hugged her knee tighter. “I need you to make those calls. If Walters does call us back, I can field it.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his eyes unreadable, before he nodded. “Okay, give me the file and I’ll make the calls.”

  She refrained from releasing a huge sigh of relief and handed the file to Dante. With the few missing children investigations she’d worked, she had dealt with detectives from medium to large cities—Cleveland, Indianapolis, Rochester. Those detectives had been busy handling other cases, they’d been happy for the outside assistance. Now that she was going to be dealing with a couple of smaller communities, she realized she’d need Dante and his ties with CORE to help give her access to information she might not be privy to.

  Since she’d been using the program to help other parents find their children, she’d depended on only herself. Having to rely on Dante wasn’t anything new. Their marriage had begun with a solid foundation of trust, and with the understanding and security of knowing they always had each other’s back. Neither of them had held up their end these past six years. Still, she did trust Dante and then, of course, there was his strong sense of duty. If he chose to stay involved, she honestly believed he would treat her as a partner, and not go behind her back and keep her in the dark. They’d been through too much already and she needed to let go of her need to be in control.

  She wanted this kidnapper—kidnappers, she amended, based on the boy’s reference to his mommy and daddy—found. She didn’t believe they’d taken her daughter. Considering their MO, they were targeting blond, blue-eyed baby boys, not dark haired, dark-eyed baby girls. To be able to prevent these people from destroying and devastating another family wouldn’t make losing her baby girl any easier, but it would at least make her feel like she was doing something to make a difference. Her search had become icy cold. She hadn’t had a solid lead on her daughter in over five years. There’d been a few times of false hope—the most recent had been a few weeks ago—but in the end, it had been just that. False hope. Still, if she couldn’t embrace her own child, she wanted to be able to help give another family the opportunity to have the answers they needed and, most importantly, possibly embrace their missing child again. To be able to witness their union—

  She swallowed and blinked her watery eyes. Instead of imaging a reunion, she needed to do everything possible to make it happen first. As Dante placed a call to the Shreveport PD, she decided to continue searching through the missing children database she’d been working on when he’d interrupted her with his unexpected visit. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she hadn’t minded that he’d showed up at her apartment this evening. Looking through the data on the different missing children websites had been depressing. She didn’t know what was worse, seeing the names attached to the smiling faces of abducted kids, or seeing the numerous facial, computer composites of unidentified children—mostly teens—who had been found dead. Next to their composites might be a specific brand of shoes or jacket they’d been wearing, or an image of a tattoo or birthmark. The dozens of unidentified children was staggering, and so sad. Weren’t their families looking for them? Had they given up? Or had they been the ones who had sent them to an early grave?

  With Dante here, looking at the database wasn’t any less depressing, but that sense of isolation had faded—for now. Once he left, the loneliness, as always, would return. The walls, cluttered with reminders that there was an incredible amount of evil in the world, that happiness could quickly turn to pain at a moment’s notice, that life truly wasn’t fair, would close in on her. The sense of overwhelming helplessness would set in and make sleeping in her twin bed difficult without the help of a couple of drinks or a sleeping aid. If only she could learn to shut her mind off and change her perspective on life. If only she could escape the past like Dante had, and move forward in a way that would lessen the physical and emotional pain she carried with her.

  Every.

  Single.

  Day.

  But she didn’t know how. Could Dante show her?

  She glanced away from the laptop and looked at him. He quickly wrote on a notepad, then met her gaze. She
instantly recognized the excitement in his eyes. Living with too many years of false hope, she tried not to let it affect her. Hope wasn’t something tangible. Throwing a penny in a fountain and making wishes that they’d find their daughter, or these serial kidnappers would do her little good. She could hope all she wanted, but without concrete evidence, all that would remain was her unanswered prayers.

  She looked back to the screen and clicked on another missing boy’s name. This child was African American and had been five when he’d been taken. Before she became lost in his story, like she had with so many others, she exited from his profile and clicked on the next boy’s name. This one was Caucasian, but also older than what they were looking for. Before she could look at the next boy on the list, Dante set his cell phone on the card table.

  “Shreveport PD had loads of info for us,” he said, waving the notepad he’d been using.

  The hope she’d kept locked inside began to simmer. If she wasn’t careful, it would boil to the surface and bubble over, making the disappointment she would likely face later that much more upsetting.

  “Turns out the detective I spoke with is familiar with CORE,” Dante continued. “I forgot John had worked a case in Bossier, Louisiana, a few years ago, which is right in Shreveport’s backyard.”

  “Maybe we should bring John, or even Ian in on this,” she suggested. John Kain had come to CORE from the FBI. As a criminalist, he might offer a different spin on their case, and Ian had been a profiler with the FBI. Between the two of them, plus her and Dante’s investigation background, they could at least come up with a profile of whom they were up against.

  “John’s out of town. And right now, Ian thinks I’m training his latest recruit. I’m not objecting to the idea, but let’s gather some additional evidence first.”

  He had a point, and they at least still had Rachel. The computer forensics analyst might end up being more helpful than a criminalist and profiler anyway. If Rachel could find the locations where the strollers were purchased, she might be able to discover other traceable evidence—via the Internet—that could lead to the kidnappers’ identities. Or, at the very least, the real name of the boy found in Lamoni.

  “So what did Shreveport PD have to say?” A knock came at the door. “Must be the pizza I ordered.”

  He stopped her from rising. “I got it,” he said, and headed for the door.

  As Dante paid for the pizza, she picked up the notepad. Reading through his notes, she couldn’t help letting her hope manifest. “Is this a serial number? Oh, my God, and a Walmart store ID?”

  “Way to steal my moment,” he said with a grin, and set the pizza box on the only part of the card table that didn’t have clutter. “Do you have any plates and napkins?”

  “They’re in the cabinet by the stove,” she said without looking up, then added, “There’s beer and pop in the fridge if you want one. I’ll take a beer.”

  “Don’t get up on my account. I’m just the guest,” he said with heavy sarcasm, and went into the kitchen. Moments later he came back into the living room with two beers, paper plates and napkins. “You not only don’t have real plates, but I noticed your silverware drawer is full of plastic forks and knives. Now I know what to buy you for your birthday.”

  “I don’t need the real stuff.” She never entertained and lived on takeout, sandwiches and Pop-Tarts. “Thanks for paying for the pizza,” she said, and took the plate he offered her.

  “You’re welcome.” He set his plate on the table and sat next to her. “Can I have my notes back please?”

  “Sorry, here.” She gave him the notepad. “Did I see a serial number scribbled in your notes?” she asked, picking up her slice of pizza. She hadn’t eaten since this morning, and her stomach immediately growled when she caught the spicy scent of pepperoni and marinara sauce.

  “You did. So the detective I spoke with, Larry Gillespie, actually worked the case. I think even if I wasn’t with CORE, he would’ve been more than willing to talk to me. He was able to give me everything he had on it like that,” he finished with a snap of his fingers.

  “He didn’t want it going cold,” she said, and wiped her mouth with the napkin.

  “That’s my impression. He told me he had a gut feeling the boy they’d found wasn’t the only victim.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Because he thought it was strange that the kidnappers took the boy from Atlanta, then moved to Little Rock, only to release him over the border in Louisiana.”

  “Wait, how does he know the kidnappers were living in Little Rock?”

  “He’s not one hundred percent sure, but the stroller Cody Graham was found in was traced back to a Walmart in Little Rock.”

  Ignoring her pizza, she looked to the map they’d hung on the wall, then attacked the laptop’s keyboard. “Let’s see how far it is from Little Rock to Shreveport… Got it. Three hours, eleven minutes. And Cody was found outside of the church at—”

  “Around eight-thirty in the evening. So, let’s say the kidnappers have regular jobs in Little Rock. They get off work around five, arrive in Shreveport shortly after eight, make the drop, then they could either head back home or head in another direction.”

  “Like Wichita,” she suggested. “That’s where the next boy, Patrick Cleary, was taken.” She picked up her pizza and took a bite. Would the kidnappers have gone straight to Wichita to scope the area looking for another victim? She washed the bite down with a sip of beer. The bigger question…what was the point in taking the boys, only to give them back?

  Dante reached for his beer. “Unless they’re independently wealthy, they’d have to have jobs.”

  “Which would require addresses and social security numbers.”

  “Right.”

  He grabbed another slice of pizza. “They could rent and pay cash for everything. They’d have to have a driver’s license, so, bottom line, they’d be in the system.”

  “But without prior arrests, they wouldn’t pop up on anyone’s radar.” She pushed her plate aside. “Did Detective Gillespie say anything about Cody Graham? We know the kid gave him the name Elton, but was there anything else?”

  “Same as the Lamoni boy, Cody asked for his mommy and daddy. Gillespie also said they had a child psychologist work with him. He played with dolls that represented—what Gillespie assumed—the kidnappers. He showed no violence or anything out of the ordinary. By all accounts, it appeared that Cody was well taken care of—just like the Lamoni boy.” He wiped his hands on his napkin. “A pediatrician examined him and found no signs of sexual abuse. Gillespie commented that there’re other ways to abuse a child and suggested that maybe the kidnappers had forced the boy to—”

  “Don’t go there. Please.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m not ignorant and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t happen, but I would assume the child psychologist was able to determine if there was indeed abuse of any sort.”

  He nodded. “She found nothing.”

  “Thank God. I suppose we can’t assume the same for the others. When you make those calls, you should ask. And when Walters calls back, I’m going to do the same.”

  Her cell phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID. “That’s him now. Perfect timing.”

  “You take that, I’ll go in the other room and call Blythe PD.”

  Her conversation with Walters yielded her the serial number from the stroller, which was a huge bonus. They could find out exactly where the stroller had been purchased. While she had Walters on the phone, she took a page from Gillespie and asked if the boy had been examined by a pediatrician, as well as a child psychologist. She’d ended up with a yes on the pediatrician and a no on the psychologist, but Walters assured her that was in the works and the boy would meet with the psychologist on Monday.

  She didn’t want to wait three days to hear what the psychologist had to say. She wanted an answer now. Although she had little experience with two to three-year-old children, like with any witness, it wa
s always best to interrogate as quickly as possible, while memories and images were still fresh in their minds. “I would love to talk with the boy.” She’d already looked up the driving distance from Chicago to Lamoni and knew she and Dante could be there by noon tomorrow if they left first thing in the morning. “Would you be opposed to us coming to Lamoni and meeting with Elton?”

  “Not at all,” Walters said, with enthusiasm. “What time can I expect you?”

  She glanced into the living room. Dante sat on the old sofa, jotting notes. Maybe she should have consulted with him first. He might have had plans for tomorrow. “Around noon or so,” she replied, hoping Dante agreed.

  “I look forward to it. Plan on coming out to my house, though. I think it’ll be more comfortable for Elton that way. Here, let me give you my address and cell phone number.”

  After she took his information, she ended the call. Since Dante was still on the phone, she went back to looking through the missing children database. Thirty-five minutes later, Dante came back into the dining room.

  “Any luck?” she asked.

  When he grinned, she wanted to melt. Dante had a sexy smile, and this one oozed confidence. “Like you said, Blythe PD had turned the boy over to California Missing Persons Unit, who in turn tracked the stroller Patrick Cleary was found in to a Walmart in Goodyear, Arizona.”

  She quickly typed in a search for the driving distance. “It would take the kidnappers less than two hours to get to Blythe from Goodyear. This could be part of their pattern.”

  “Not living far from the state line? Absolutely. Before I get into why I agree, let me finish with Blythe. The person I spoke with—Officer Lynda Ortiz—was very familiar with the case, but not the initial investigating officer.”

  “We should try to speak with him. There might be things he remembers—”

  “A, she’s a she, not a he. B, Officer Gillian Todd passed away three years ago from breast cancer.”