by Webb, Debra
The night air bit her heated cheeks as she slipped off the porch and onto the path. They had walked the path to their lookout post so many times she knew it by heart. She kept her Beretta palmed just in case. The woods were eerily quiet. She thought of Mia’s grandmother’s stories. Sarah didn’t believe in ghosts, but she did believe in devils—the human kind. If Meltzer and his forefathers had been doing the sorts of things Mia’s grandmother and Tom had suggested, there was no telling what he had planned for or perhaps had already done to the children he’d abducted.
All Sarah needed was proof they were here. She could call her chief and get the necessary paper to enter the premises.
The tinkling sound of laughter brushed her senses.
Sarah stilled, staying close to a tree for cover.
Laughter resonated through the night again. The sound was coming from beyond the iron fence. Sarah peered through the darkness. She could just make out little forms running about on the other side of the fence. Voices joined the laughter.
Definitely children, male and female. Playing.
The urge to turn on the flashlight tucked into her back pocket was nearly overwhelming.
She held perfectly still. Absolutely silent and invisible. She didn’t even breathe.
Sarah eased down onto her knees to watch for a glimpse of one of the children in the moonlight. She listened intently.
Leaves rustled behind her position. Her fingers tightened on her weapon.
A hand landed on her shoulder and she knew instantly it was Tom. Relief roared through her.
He crouched next to her.
Neither he nor she risked saying a word.
The laughter reverberated through the trees, igniting adrenaline in Sarah’s veins. She turned her face up to Tom’s and dared to whisper, “Do you hear them?” It was the only way to be sure she wasn’t delusional. She was just desperate enough to be.
“Yes.”
That single world brought tears to her eyes. There were children inside that compound. Hope soared inside her.
Now all she needed was for one of them to say a name… just one name from the list of missing children waiting for her to find them.
Chapter 21
Wednesday, October 25, 4:10 p.m.
They had changed shifts four times in the past sixteen hours. Tom had finally admitted defeat and had gotten some sleep early this morning. Sarah had crashed around noon. There had been no movement in or out of the compound today. They hadn’t seen or heard anyone since hearing the children last night.
Tom wasn’t sure how long he could keep Sarah playing by his rules if they didn’t get a real break soon.
He moved through the trees and underbrush, working his way around the perimeter of the sanatorium property. He’d made a mistake kissing her last night. How could he have believed for even a second it was okay to do that?
Sarah didn’t want him anymore. She wanted a divorce. To end their marriage, the last painful reminder of their past.
She barely tolerated being near him. To some degree, he was sure she hated him and always would. That was the risk he’d taken when he’d admitted her to that clinic. He stalled, letting the air heave in and out of his lungs. He’d been terrified that without extreme measures he would lose her to the pain and denial.
Their daughter was gone. No force on earth was going to bring her back. Tom had accepted that reality. The agony was at times unbearable, but he had learned to live with it in the only way he knew how—to recognize his child was gone and grieve the loss whether they’d had a body to bury or not.
That decision had only made Sarah despise him more.
What the hell had Larson been thinking allowing her to be a part of the Task Force on this investigation? What had she been thinking? Tom suspected she’d needed to prove something by placing herself in such a precarious position.
Maybe he’d done the same thing, except Paul Phillips had dragged him into this nightmare. There was no backing away now. Stopping this evil was no longer just the job, it was his life’s mission. He had promised Paul he would end this. It was the only way he and his family would ever truly be free of the nightmare that had devastated two generations in a small Tennessee town.
Tom wouldn’t stop until it was done. What else did he have to do with his time? His career was on shaky ground. He’d lost Sarah and Sophie. The memories of his baby girl rushing to greet him at the door after work each evening filled his mind’s eye. He would pick her up and swing her around, eliciting the sweetest squeals. When he hugged her, her little arms would tighten around his neck. He stopped and allowed the memories to wash over him. Stories at bedtime. Picnics in the park on Sundays. Just watching her breathe had filled him with complete happiness.
And then she was gone.
Vanished. No evidence. No ransom.
He stared at the buildings beyond the towering fence. Like the children Meltzer had taken, only for reasons Tom would likely never know.
Tom had no tangible proof, of course, that Meltzer was the one but he knew. The way Kira Gerard had spoken to him that last time Tom had recognized she was afraid of someone. He now knew Meltzer had been her superior. Cashion had named Meltzer. It had to be him.
His cell vibrated. He dug it from his pocket. A text message from Sarah.
The gate is opening.
Tom ducked deeper into the trees and broke into a run. He had to reach the tree line nearest the road before the vehicle leaving the compound moved out of eyesight.
He dodged trees, stumbled once, twice, but caught himself. By the time he reached a good vantage point, he was out of breath and too late.
“Damn it.”
“I got the license plate number.”
He whipped around at the sound of Sarah’s voice. “It wasn’t Meltzer?”
She shook her head. “Male. Mid-thirties. Nissan Maxima, Maryland license plate. I’m texting a friend who can run the plate for us.”
Tom put his hand over hers. “No one can know where we are. Not yet.”
She sent him one of those glares she reserved just for him and pulled her hand away from his touch. “Yeah. I got that part.”
He needed water and a break. He’d made it around the entire perimeter three times. As the shopkeeper had said, there was no other way in. The cameras on the gate precluded an attempt at rushing in when a vehicle had departed as the Maxima had only moments ago. The best he could hope for was a glimpse of one or more of the children, giving Sarah reason to call her chief for a warrant.
Unless… he intercepted a vehicle headed into the facility.
“It’s my turn to explore.” She shoved her cell into her back pocket. “You look like you could use a break anyway.”
“Yeah.” He wondered if that kiss had haunted her dreams last night the way it had his. Wishful thinking. “A break would be good. I’ll be back in an hour,” he reminded her as he headed for the house.
“You were on patrol far longer than that,” she argued.
He hesitated, didn’t look back. “One hour, Sarah.”
What he really needed was a cold shower to keep his mind off what he couldn’t have.
Sarah watched Tom disappear into the trees. He’d been distant all day. The kiss, she imagined. It had obviously rattled him the same way it had her. He’d invaded her dreams, bringing Sophie with him. Sarah hugged herself even now, feeling cold and empty inside. From the instant her eyes had opened the warmth of his and Sophie’s presence in her dreams had vanished, leaving her desolate and angry.
She wasn’t angry with him about the kiss, exactly. She doubted he’d set out to kiss her. They were married for nine years before Sophie disappeared. Their relationship had once been an impossibly strong bond of love. She supposed threads of that bond, so very fragile and unraveling a little more each day, still connected them. They’d spent almost fifteen months living apart and she’d filed for divorce ten months ago. He continued to put off signing the papers. Her attorney had suggested other optio
ns, and probably at some point she would get around to choosing one.
The legalities of their relationship didn’t seem important at the moment.
She walked as close to the fence as she dared, staying within the shadows and the camouflage of the trees. Guards were posted at all visible doors. There were three she could readily see. Two other uniforms patrolled the grounds. None came near the fence. No reason to, she supposed. It wasn’t as if anyone was going through it or over it. The concertina wire coiled along the top would deter most even if they managed to get that far up.
Sarah paused and looked at the windows of the buildings with her binoculars. Not once in her observations had she seen anyone at the windows. Tom had sworn he’d seen a little blond-haired girl that first night. Neither he nor she had spotted anyone since. Maybe the children were only allowed to come out and play after dark. The guards were probably equipped with night vision equipment, allowing the children’s activities to be monitored. The darkness prevented anyone who happened by from seeing the children, much less identifying one or all.
Too creepy.
Shivers danced over her skin as Sarah thought of those voices in the darkness last night. None of the children had used names. Were they instructed not to? Strangely, the kids had sounded as carefree as any others romping about. Had Meltzer allowed them to believe they were in a hospital or camp of some sort?
There had been no sign of him either. His car had not exited the compound. No helicopters. She supposed there could be escape tunnels.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming text. Dr. Colton Bentley, Silver Springs, Maryland. Since the reception out here barely allowed text messages to filter through, the ability to google was hit or miss. Getting a phone call in or out was highly unlikely. Maybe her friend wouldn’t mind doing a little research on Bentley. She sent another text to her friend, Clark Helton, requesting any other available info on Bentley.
Friend. Clark Helton wasn’t actually a friend. He was her DMV contact. Sarah didn’t have friends. She hadn’t in a very long time. All her friends as well as the other mothers she’d met during childbirth classes and for play dates had all eventually given up on her returning their calls or answering the door when they dropped by.
Sarah couldn’t talk to her friends or look at them without being reminded of what she’d lost. Maybe it was selfish, but it had been her only way to survive.
Resuming her trudge through the underbrush, she focused on the investigation and what they had so far. Cashion had claimed Meltzer was experimenting with cloning. The missing children were connected by the abductor’s MO and their birthplace. According to Tom, several had displayed symptoms of these random errors associated with cloning.
Meltzer was here. That had to mean his work—the children—were here. Didn’t it?
The flutter of wings overhead drew her up short. She scanned the tree limbs, some already bare for the coming winter, and watched three blackbirds take flight, their distinct caws echoing in air. The birds made her think of Halloween and the stories Mia had told her about this place. Sarah was an educated woman. A well-trained police detective. Still, she wasn’t immune to superstitions. Most of them were rooted in some sort of reality. What was the saying about blackbirds? They don’t give up their secrets? Something like that. If Tom was right, this was about science and medicine and playing God. And plenty of secrets.
Sarah’s right foot struck a rock. She pitched forward. Hit the ground hard, her lips pressed together to hold back a yelp.
Muttering curses she scrambled up onto her knees. She glanced toward the fence just to be sure no one had heard the racket and rushed over. The guards remained at their posts and the patrol was apparently on the other side of the building.
Preparing to push to her feet, she hissed another curse as she surveyed the scrapes on the heels of her hands. At least twice she had come through this same area without tripping over anything. Curious or just plain mad, she tugged at the vines and brush that covered whatever had sent her tumbling forward.
The rock was bigger than… it wasn’t a rock.
The headstone had once stood upright, but time and the elements had caused it to deteriorate to the point that it had crumbled and it now lay on the ground. Mia had said there was an old cemetery here.
Sarah tugged at more vines and brush, her pulse hammering as she uncovered one small headstone after the other. There was a large grouping, like an old family cemetery. Trees and shrubs had grown up between them, roots uprighting some of the stones. Wild ivy and vines had intertwined with the weeds and brush completely camouflaging the stones. None had names. They were all decades old and marked by nothing other than a three-digit number. The numbers were barely legible.
A deep rumble paralyzed Sarah. Holding her breath, she dared to turn her head to the right and look toward the iron fence. A large black dog stared at her. Her heart surged into her throat. If he barked…
“Hey, boy,” she whispered.
He cocked his head, those dark eyes boring into hers.
It was a Lab. Like Sam. The same color, about the same size. Labs were usually friendly. Sarah managed a smile. “You’re a good, boy,” she said softly. Please don’t bark.
His tail wagged.
If she started to back up now maybe she could get well out of sight before one of the guards reached the fence.
“Caesar! Come!”
The voice was male, but far too young to be one of the guards.
Sarah burrowed into the brush. She prayed there were no hibernating snakes in here… or spiders. She was behind the tree line, but not far enough to prevent being seen if someone ventured near the fence.
A deep bark echoed around her. Not the warning kind, but the kind Sam used when he wanted to play or he thought she was playing with him. The sound resonated inside her, nudging more of those memories she wanted to keep at bay.
“Caesar, come!” the boy repeated.
Sarah’s heart pounded so hard she couldn’t hear herself think. The kid was very close to the fence. Another of those throaty yelps from the dog. If she could only look, the child could be one of the missing children.
“You see a rabbit, boy?”
Sarah prayed the guard wouldn’t come over and start shooting into the bushes.
“We’re going to be in trouble. Playing outside in the daylight is forbidden.” A little girl’s voice.
“I have to get Caesar,” the boy argued.
“I told you that’s not his name.” The little girl again.
Her voice sounded so familiar—
“Step away from the fence!”
Sarah froze.
“You know better than to wander outside in the daytime.”
The stern voice was likely one of the guards.
“Yes, sir. Caesar ran out the door before I could catch him.”
“Go back inside now. Both of you,” he ordered. “I will be telling the father about this.”
Was this boy’s father here? Meltzer didn’t have children. Maybe Bentley had children here. But then the guard had said the father. Holding her breath, Sarah dared to part the brush enough to get a look. The boy could be one of the missing children. The reference to father only a ruse to keep the child satisfied.
When the little boy turned to tug at the dog’s collar, Sarah’s heart nearly stopped. Josh. She clenched her jaws to hold back a cry.
Not possible.
As she watched in morbid fascination another child rushed up to help the boy with the dog. This one was a girl. Maybe the one whose voice Sarah had heard. Long dark hair lay against her pink dress, a vivid contrast to the pastel color. The little girl laughed, and then glanced back at the stubborn dog.
Sarah clutched at the tree trunk. Her heart slammed mercilessly against her ribcage.
Sophie.
6:50 p.m.
“Sarah, what you’re saying doesn’t even make sense.”
“I know what I saw.”
For the first time in more t
han a year, Tom was terrified. Sarah stood with her arms crossed over her chest glaring at him. He’d hoped—no, no, he’d prayed that she was doing as well as she claimed. His source had insisted that Sarah came to work every day, looked good, and did a stellar job. Tom had decided she was actually doing reasonably well despite being too thin. And he was glad. But this… this was worse than anything he’d anticipated.
“Think about what you’re telling me,” he said gently, anguish tearing at him. “You believe that little girl was Sophie.”
“That’s right.” Her lips trembled.
His gut clenched. “And the boy was Josh Parsons.”
She nodded, determination glittering in her eyes. “I’m calling Larson and then I’m going in there.”
Tom grabbed her before she could get around him. “Sarah, what you’re suggesting is impossible.”
She glared at him. “I am not crazy, Tom.”
“No one said you were crazy,” he offered, his throat threatening to close. “The trouble is, you described Sophie exactly the way she was the last time you saw her.”
“Except her hair was longer. It was almost to her waist.” Her voice wobbled. Her eyes told him she comprehended where he was going with this and she did not want to go there. Agony flashed in her eyes.
“Sophie would be ten years old now. Josh would be eleven,” he said softly.
Sarah twisted away from him. “You think I can’t do simple math? I’m telling you what I saw. I can’t explain it. I won’t even try. Whatever you think, Tom, that was our little girl. That was our Sophie. I saw her. She wasn’t more than a dozen yards away.”
He reached for Sarah, she drew away from his touch. “I believe you saw a little girl who looked like Sophie.” He braced his hands on his hips to prevent her seeing how they trembled. The breath he drew in was ragged with the emotions roaring through him. “I shouldn’t have involved you in this.”