by Bonnie Vanak
“Look for a sign that says Trees for Sale by the roadside. There’ll be a driveway next to it,” the deputy advised.
Belle looked bewildered. “Why would Rosa and Anna stay in a nursery instead of here?”
Kyle didn’t answer, but headed for his car, talking on his cell phone to Roarke and informing him of the new development. Belle trailed behind. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not,” he growled. “This is an official investigation.”
Truth was he didn’t want her tagging along in case of trouble. All his male protective instincts flared around her. Instincts he hadn’t remembered in years. Belle had a way of winding past his tough defenses and professionalism.
“And Anna is my official patient. If she happens to be there, in need of medical attention, I am a doctor,” she pointed out.
As he reached his vehicle, Belle slid into the front passenger seat, her dress hiking up to reveal a creamy expanse of thigh. Grunting, Kyle got behind the wheel. The doctor shared his dogged determination and sense of responsibility. Had to admire that, even as it frustrated him.
He drove north on the busy roadway and found the sign. A clearing in the front was cluttered with a small yellow tractor, rusty farming equipment and several potted plants badly in need of watering. As he turned into a one-lane dirt road flanked by tall palms, black olive trees and brush, an itch began at the base of his spine.
They were onto something. That itch always heralded a hot lead. They sorely needed a big break in this case if they were to find Anna alive.
Deep inside, he suspected Dr. Belle North was far more involved than he wanted to admit.
Chapter 7
A few yards from the road’s entrance, a sagging but locked chain-link gate prohibited entry.
Kyle parked the car and then rummaged in the trunk for a pair of bolt cutters. After snapping the lock, he replaced the bolt cutters. Kyle withdrew his sidearm and shot Belle a warning glance.
“Stay here.”
To his relief, she remained in the car. Kyle opened the gate and used the trees as cover as he approached the building the deputy had mentioned.
The one-lane road ended at a dirt parking lot, overgrown with weeds. A gray one-story building was half-hidden by brush and palm trees. Trash littered the grounds, from old plastic potting containers to empty bags of fertilizer, rusty shovels and digging forks.
Two battered pickup trucks sat off to the side, along with a white panel truck on cinder blocks. A blue tarp covered another vehicle, showing balding tires and part of a rear bumper that sagged to one side.
The door to the building was open when he tried it. He checked inside, clearing each room. Nothing.
SIG Sauer steady in his hand, he circled around the perimeter. Nothing. In back of the building were four long rows of straggly palm trees in sagging pots, stretching for at least a hundred yards. A tangle of weeds and brush grew against the chain-link fence. But the grass and weeds had been trampled, wearing a path to another building in back.
Kyle followed the path, circled around the shed. Nothing. The lone window had been blacked out. The door sagged on its hinges and remained locked, but unlike the padlock out front, this one was shiny and new.
Why put a new lock on an old building, unless you had something to hide?
He called Roarke and told them to send the crime-scene techs.
By the time he returned to the entrance, several patrol cars had already pulled into the circular drive. Police milled about, searching for clues. The place crawled with uniforms.
In her blue sleeveless dress, Belle stood out like a pearl in a sea of green. Holstering his weapon, he strode over to scold her for leaving the car when he noticed her expression.
Eyes huge in her face, she stared with avid interest at the vehicles parked near the fence. Her long, slender fingers trembled as she pointed to the blue tarp.
“That’s the car,” she whispered. “I remember the rear bumper was halfway off.”
Belle raced forward, fumbled with the tarp.
“Help me,” she told him, fumbling with the mud-stained plastic.
Together they yanked it off the car. Dirt stained Belle’s expensive blue dress and muddied her hands. She bent over and peered inside.
The car was empty. But rust stained the steering wheel and there were small stains on the seat.
A cry erupted from Belle’s throat. Kyle’s own hands trembled as he donned latex gloves and then retrieved a small stuffed teddy bear from the backseat.
A bear with a purple-and-pink ribbon around its neck. One eye was missing.
A child’s toy. Looked similar to the one he’d given Kasey for her second birthday.
Kasey had adored her teddy. She’d clutched it in a death grip, babbled her incomprehensible toddlerspeak.
“Kiss Teddy,” she’d demanded, holding the toy up for his inspection.
Teddy had never left Kasey’s side. Not when she ate dinner in her high chair, or played in the living room all those nights he worked late and seldom came home before dawn, not when Caroline strapped her into the car seat and they drove to run errands or visit the playground...
Except that last night, when Caroline’s temper snapped and she’d tossed a pair of suitcases into the trunk, bundled a sleeping Kasey into her bumblebee jacket and sped away from the house...
Teddy had been in Kasey’s nursery when he returned to the empty house. Teddy went into his hands, and then into his car.
Into the hospital room, where machines blipped and clicked and whirled, his daughter’s eyes had closed against the fluorescent lights overhead. Such pretty, long lashes. Such a big, ugly bandage on her little head. He’d taken Teddy and gently slid it under his baby girl’s arm.
“Kiss Teddy for Dada,” he’d whispered, stroking Kasey’s cheek. “C’mon, baby girl. Kiss Teddy.”
“Agent Anderson?” Belle’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Kyle?”
Her soft, sultry voice held a tremulous note. He shook himself free of the past. He had a child to find.
A child he could save.
Not like his daughter.
Kyle motioned to a nearby tech, who bagged the bear. He dug into his trouser pocket for the coin always there and drew it out.
Stupid habit, but running the coin through his fingers felt comforting. Was there such as thing as a lucky silver dollar?
How about an unlucky one?
“Are you all right?” Belle asked.
For a moment, he’d forgotten she was there. Belle North, doctor. What a racket. Profession that made money and claimed to save lives.
They didn’t save his daughter’s life.
“Fine.” Focus, damn it. “Is that Anna’s bear?”
Belle nodded, visibly shaken, but doing her best to appear calm and in control.
“She has to still be alive,” she said, her gaze riveted to the toy as the tech carried it off. “She must be.”
He wasn’t the only person determined to save the child. Belle seemed woebegone, her huge eyes pleading with him for reassurance.
So different from the doctors he’d dealt with in the past. Concerned. Patient, not brisk and impersonal.
Reassurance? He couldn’t offer any. All he could do was the job. The job was everything now. Fingers tightening on the silver dollar, he spoke in an even tone.
“We’re going to do everything we can to find her.” They would find her. With half the force on this case, scores of volunteers, Anna would be found.
He would work his fingers to the bone, exhausting every last clue until she was home.
She bit her luscious lower lip as if to keep it from trembling. “I never realized the danger she was in. She was scared, but many children are scared in the clinic. I wish...”
So forlorn and upset. How could one fake sincerity?
He’d dealt with many criminals over the years and considered himself a good judge of when someone lied or they did not. Belle North wasn’t affecting tears to impress him.
He replaced the coin in his pocket. Kyle forgot about himself, and his overwhelming need to work this case. Her shoulders were round and soft beneath his fingers as he put his hands on her to give her comfort. His guts twisted at the vulnerability etched on her worried face, the fear in her eyes mirroring his own.
For a moment they were not agent and doctor, but simply two human beings connected by a missing child.
“Don’t blame yourself. You’re not a seasoned professional trained to spot potential kidnappers.”
“No excuse,” she muttered. “I should have known. Maybe if I had called earlier, I could have stopped him from taking her. If Anna is...”
Belle fell silent, her words clear.
“She’s not,” he said fiercely. “We have to work on the assumption she’s not.”
She sagged against his arms. Uncaring of the uniforms buzzing around them, Kyle held her, rubbing her back. Belle smelled wonderful and clean and fresh, her slender body soft in his arms. He offered what little comfort he could, taking comfort himself in the simple act of reassurance.
A gentle cough from one of the deputies interrupted him.
“Agent Anderson, the owner’s son is here.”
Kyle pulled away from Belle as if she were an open fire. Not good to fraternize with a possible suspect. No matter how many tears she shed or how sincere she appeared.
The owner’s son wasn’t impressive. Middle-aged, with a slight paunch oozing over his leather belt, the man introduced himself as Clive Ryan. Ryan looked bewildered at the flurry of uniforms combing through the weeds. Two K-9 units pulled up. The dogs would find Anna’s scent, if she had been here.
Or if her body was...
Kyle didn’t waste words. “The shed in the back. When was it last used?”
The man frowned. “Months ago, maybe. Roof leaks. Keep nagging Dad to let me tear it down, but he doesn’t like change.”
“Who else has access to the front gate and the office?”
“Myself, my sister and our cousin. We take turns watering the plants, but mostly we’re too busy with our jobs and our families.”
“Anyone else? Caretakers? Clients, friends of your father’s?”
Ryan frowned. “Not that I recall. ’Cept Jesse.”
Interest flared. “Jesse? Employee?”
“Friend of my cousin’s. Said he could clean up the office, all those old records. Place is a fire hazard. I’ve warned Pops...”
“Last name?”
Ryan squinted. “Douglas. Or Dugin. Can’t remember. We don’t have any money to pay him, so he offered to trade by cleaning up the back. Scrap metal’s worth a lot in the recycling businesses down the street.”
So was silence. Away from nosy neighbors or other businesses, hidden from view, the nursery offered a perfect hiding place.
“What about the shed?” Kyle asked.
A frown from Ryan. “My dad built it as a spare office, but it’s run-down. Jesse asked about the place, if I wanted him to clean it up. I told him, yeah, just don’t touch the mulch and fertilizer. He hired a crew, ah, two weeks ago and they hauled a lot of stuff out. Got the bill a few days ago.”
Loud, excited barking warned the dogs had caught a scent. Kyle motioned to Belle.
“Come with me. If by chance they’ve found her, she’ll need a familiar face.”
Anna wouldn’t be in the old shed, but he had to say something to assure her.
Reassure himself, as well.
Two dogs pawed at the door. “Open it,” he tersely instructed a deputy.
Lock snapped, the door creaked inward.
They stepped inside. Dark, dank, smelling of old cedar and fertilizer. Flipping the switch, they found the answer.
Rotting bags of mulch and fertilizer were stacked against one wall. But it was the opposite wall that gripped Kyle’s attention.
Two roll-away cots with colorful blankets were tucked against it. A counter held a microwave, bottles of water and empty food wrappers. He picked one up with gloved fingers. Burritos.
New mini fridge under a table...he opened it. Stuffed with food. Smith hadn’t intended for Rosa and Anna to starve. In fact, if the building weren’t leaking, it might even be comfortable.
Two large suitcases stood in the corner. He opened one, found it filled with clothing.
Kyle investigated the hallway and opened a door, leading to a cramped but clean bathroom and a tiny shower.
“Who else has access to this place?” Kyle demanded of Ryan.
The man looked around with a bewildered expression. “No one. I told you, only Jesse. He said he was going to clean it out.”
This Jesse had done more than clean out the building.
Jesse/John must have banked on no one else being around and decided to move Anna and her mother this morning.
Crime-scene investigators entered the shed and began their work.
“This is a terrible place to bring a child, even if he made provisions for them.” Belle shuddered as she looked at the blacked-out window, the walls seeping with dampness. “Why here?”
“Hidden, away from prying eyes, unlike the park, which is popular, especially with campers during the winter season.”
No one manned the park entrance stations during the week. Fees were charged only on weekends. John Smith, aka Jesse must have sneaked Rosa and Anna out during the week and brought them here. Promised them a real home of their own, and marriage to Rosa.
Unemployed and desperate, Rosa had agreed to remain hidden. Men like Jesse knew how to manipulate women to get to their kids. Knew how to weave webs of lies to keep their victims quiet and complacent.
But then Rosa must have insisted on returning to their tent to collect their belongings. That was when Smith decided to kill her and abduct Anna.
At least they had a break in the case. They had a name, which could be traced.
A few moments later, he had answers, as well. A state database turned up a Jesse Dugin. Outside the shed, Kyle showed Belle the photo that popped up on his cell phone.
Her breath hitched. “His hair is lighter, but yes, that looks like the man who brought in Rosa and Anna to the clinic.”
Jesse Dugin had been convicted of petty larceny and burglary, out on parole for two years. He held a job as a driver for a small roofing company that did repairs.
Kyle suspected the vehicle Dugin drove was an unmarked white panel van, perfect for ferrying around roofing tiles, ladders, tar...and little girls.
Still, Dugin had made a huge leap from small crimes to the federal crime of kidnapping. Why? Money, most likely.
They had a lead, which sprouted tentacles of other leads. And plenty of work to follow them.
All the while the minutes slipped away. If Dugin was connected to a child-trafficking ring suspected of taking the other girl from the clinic, they needed to track him down now.
Roarke stepped forward. “Local law enforcement’s holding a press conference in fifteen, Kyle. They want us there at the park.”
“You handle it. I’ll be there shortly.”
Jesse Dugin, it turned out, also used to drive the occasional delivery, according to the sloppy paperwork detectives found in the office. He used a white panel van registered to the nursery.
Kyle frowned at Ryan. “Where’s the van?”
Ryan shrugged. “I guess Jesse took it. Pop let him use it as his regular transportation.”
“Pop” had enabled a hardened felon to take over the business and do whatever he pleased. “Ever hear of background checks? They’re a wonderful thing,” he asked.
Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but Ryan looked oblivious. “Pop has a kind heart. He saw Jesse
was down on his luck, so he gave him a job.”
And a place to hide out and temporarily hide a terrified child and her mother until he could kill Rosa and abduct Anna. Thankfully Dugin’s plan failed when it came to Rosa. Kyle checked his phone for messages from the hospital. He’d alerted them to text with any changes in Rosa’s condition.
He gave Dugin a dismissive glance. “Tell your father we’re shutting this place down until further notice.”
A crime-scene tech called him from the bathroom. When he entered, the man held up an empty vial and syringe.
Propofol.
“There’s a few vials just like this in the trash,” the tech told him. “He must have drugged Anna before taking her.”
A few vials used on a child weighing less than forty-five pounds? Kyle examined the syringes. “I want each of these tested for DNA against the samples we received from the other girls who were reported kidnapped from this area in the last two months.”
When he exited the bathroom, a deputy came over, tablet in hand.
“We checked everywhere and there’s no record of an Anna Rodriguez or a Rosa Rodriguez living together. There was a Rosa Marie Alvarez and Anna Alvarez living in the Palmetto Pines trailer park in Hollywood. That was in December. They left in January.”
“It has to be them. If they’re in hiding from someone or the law, they’d change their last name. Get those flyers with the mother and daughter circulated, start knocking on doors,” Kyle ordered.
“There’s a team there now. We’ll also have volunteers canvass the area. If Anna has been there with her mother, we’ll find out.”
Getting the neighbors involved was important. Mobilizing the community meant it would be harder for Smith to hide Anna.
But Kyle suspected Smith was far away. Which meant... He turned to the deputy. “Ask the neighbors what kind of car was seen last at this Rosa Alvarez’s trailer.”
He returned to Belle, who sat on one of the cots, hands clasped in her lap. “Is there anything else you can recall about your examination or conversation with Anna?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes. Something odd. Her mother spoke little English, but Anna was fluent. She lives in a Spanish-speaking household. Where did she learn a word like tenderloin?”