When Shadows Fall

by J. T. Ellison

  Minutes later, hot joe in hand, leftover blueberry popovers in front of them, Thor fed and watered, they sat at the kitchen table and he filled her in.

  “I found the definitive link between Doug Matcliff and the man named Adrian Zamyatin. They went to high school together at Langley. Adrian’s mother died soon after he was born, and his father worked for a grocery chain as a long-haul trucker. He was rarely home, and Adrian was left to do what he would.

  “Doug’s family were polar opposites—both his parents were lawyers. They divorced in 1993, just before Doug started high school.”

  “So you’re saying these two weren’t just familiar with each other—they were friends?”

  “Good friends. The online photos from their classes at Langley show them to be inseparable.” He took a sip of coffee, broke off a piece of the pastry. He waited while she processed that information.

  “How’d you find the photos?”

  “Facebook. There are several groups from their high school on there. I faked a profile and joined a few. They’ve done a nice job uploading the old yearbooks to the sites. People like to chat. I asked a few discreet questions, got an earful.”

  He had a little smile on his face. There was more, but he wasn’t going to just give it to her.

  “It’s early and I’m foggy, hon. What?”

  “Guess who handled his parents’ divorce?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Think of a lawyer’s name you might have heard in the past couple of days.”

  She thought. There was too much leftover Ambien; nothing was clicking for her. “Mac Picker?”

  “Bingo.”

  She let that wash over her, felt her pulse pick up. “So Benedict, Picker, Green, Thompson handles divorces. What else do they do?”

  “Adoption has a legal component.”

  She watched him take a self-satisfied swig of his coffee.

  “They were the ones handling the adoptions of the babies born in Eden.”

  “Yep.”

  It all made sense. Before she could say anything else, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number. It was still obscenely early. This had to be news.

  “This is Sam.”

  “Dr. Owens, this is Lisa Schumann, from The Washington Post. I have a couple of questions about the Stevens kidnapping. Can you—”

  “No comment.”

  “Dr. Owens, please. Hear me out. I understand Kaylie Rousch came to visit you last night. Don’t you find that odd? Why would a girl who everyone thought was dead show up on your doorstep, very much alive?”

  Damn it. One of the cops talked. “No comment. Seriously. You can direct your inquiries to the authorities. Good day, Ms. Schumann.”

  She was about to disconnect when the girl yelled, “Wait! I know where Kaylie Rousch is now.”

  Sam put the phone back to her ear. “What did you say?”

  “I know where Kaylie Rousch is. I’ll tell you if you hear me out.”

  “You’ll tell me now, or I’ll have D.C. Metro on your ass before you can blink.”

  Schumann had the audacity to laugh. “I can take care of myself. I have more friends at Metro than you do. Is it true, then? Did Kaylie Rousch resurrect and show up on your doorstep?”

  Sam shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to fall for this. “I’m sorry, Ms. Schumann. No comment.”

  She hung up the phone, and immediately called Fletcher.

  He answered on the first ring, sounding slightly more awake than she felt at the moment.

  “What’s shaking? Any news?”

  “A reporter from The Washington Post just called me, told me she knows where Kaylie Rousch is and wanted a quote about Rachel.”

  She heard him cursing a blue streak, then a female voice in the background.

  He had company. And it wasn’t Andrea Bianco.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Sam said.

  She hated herself for the chilliness of her tone. It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t matter. He was her friend, nothing more. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

  “You’re not interrupting. Jordan and I spent the whole night going through the signal intelligence from Matcliff.”

  She felt like an idiot. Jordan Blake. So he’d been working. Get a grip, Sam.

  Fletcher yawned. “Sorry. This case is going to kill me. So where is Kaylie Rousch, according to Ms. Schumann? Who’s a pain in my ass, by the way. That girl is a climber. We need to be careful around her.”

  “So I gathered. I said no comment and hung up on her.”

  “Good girl. She’s just fishing. Glad you didn’t take the bait. She almost got her head shot off here a minute ago, sneaking around my backyard. Caught her looking in my windows, nearly booted her ass, bullet included, clear to the Potomac.”

  “What if she knows something?”

  His voice hardened. “If she does, and she’s trying to protect her story, she’ll regret it. I’ll call her, tell her to stop bugging you. Listen, we went through about a million pieces of paper last night, and came up with a few things.”

  He filled her in. She told him their suspicions about Mac Picker. They both sat in silence, processing their individual information.

  “I think we can agree Doug Matcliff wasn’t an innocent in all of this,” Sam finally said. “He knew exactly what was happening with Eden. Chances are, he set them up with Picker early on. He knew the name, knew the work they did. He’s complicit in this up to his eyeballs, and that law firm needs to be taken down. My question is, why now? He’s been on the run, hiding from the cult and from the FBI, for ten years. Why blow his cover now?”

  “Maybe Matcliff had enough, and was trying to do the right thing.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t know, Fletcher. He may have started as the go-between, moving the babies out and delivering them to Lynchburg, assuming we can confirm that the adoption paperwork came out of Picker’s firm. But at some point, Kaylie’s well-being became more important to him, and he took her from the cult and went off-grid. These are the actions of a man in love, don’t you think?”

  “Go on.”

  She played with her empty coffee cup. “He was in love with Kaylie, and would do anything to keep her safe. Then ten years later, out of the blue, he suddenly puts together a will, then winds up dead. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I agree, it doesn’t. But we know he was a duplicitous bastard. From what we gathered, going through this intelligence, his check-ins were intended to mislead the FBI into looking in all the wrong places for Eden.”

  “He certainly managed to make Kaylie believe he’d been cut loose by the FBI, that they were on their own. Isolating her, making her all the more dependent on him.”

  “Classic abuse scenario.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Another thought struck her. “Fletch, remember what Davidson said Arthur Scarron did? He was some sort of doctor before he began to run his family’s oil company. Davidson said he thought it was plastic surgery or O.B. Regardless of his specialty, he’s certainly trained in obstetrics. We all have the basic knowledge of each field. Perhaps he was involved here, too. Any chance Ellie Scarron is awake?”

  “Not that I’ve heard, but you’re right. It’s time to go dig deeper into the names on that will.”

  “What about Rachel Stevens? Any word on her?”

  “Jordan’s people are looking for the spot Kaylie pointed out on the map, and the minute they find something, I’ll let you know. We’re headed to the Stevens’s now to find out if Rachel is really their kid. If she’s not, I’ll find out who handled the adoption. You’re going to Anne Carter’s place?”

  “Yes. Baldwin should be here shortly.”

  “Then I suggest you grill the crap out of the woman, get her to share all
her dirty little secrets.”

  Chapter

  50

  Bethesda, Maryland

  THE SUN WAS crawling steadily out of the horizon when Fletcher and Jordan rolled up to the Stevens house. The overnight team gave them bleary looks, clearly disappointed they weren’t being relieved.

  Claire and Kevin Stevens were sitting in the kitchen, also bleary-eyed, and their joint looks of hope morphing into despair were hard to take. Claire vaguely waved her hand at the coffeepot. Fletcher poured coffee for everyone, then joined them at the table.

  “Any news at all?” Claire asked in a whisper.

  Jordan touched her arm lightly. “We’re doing everything we can, Mrs. Stevens. Trust me. I know this is incredibly difficult, but right now we need some information. Can you tell us a little more about Rachel?”

  “Of course. What do you want to know?”

  “I’m sorry for being blunt, but is she your biological child?”

  Claire Stevens had ivory skin. It was astounding to imagine she could get any paler, but she blanched so violently Fletcher reached out to steady her in case she fainted. “I take it that’s a no?”

  Kevin Stevens’s face turned a mottled red. “I can’t believe you’re asking this now. She’s our daughter, and she’s missing. Nothing else matters.”

  His wife’s mouth was working silently, as if she was trying and failing to find the appropriate words. She finally straightened her slim shoulders and spoke quietly. “How did you find out? It was a closed adoption. We were assured no one would ever know Rachel wasn’t ours.”

  Fletcher looked at Jordan, and she leaned forward a little bit. “We believe we’ve found Rachel’s biological mother.”

  The look of hope returned to Claire’s face. “Oh, thank the Lord. Did she steal her? Are we dealing with a custodial battle then? We can get our lawyers involved. We are her legal parents. Her mother abandoned her when she was a day old, and when she didn’t come back to claim her within thirty days, we were told we were in the clear. There’s no legal recourse for her to take Rachel back.”

  “Let’s back up a minute, ma’am,” Fletcher said. “Tell us who helped you with the adoption.”

  “No. Who is this woman? I want to know. I want to know who’s taken my daughter.”

  Fletcher’s voice was gentle and steady. “Mrs. Stevens, please, calm down. We don’t believe Rachel’s biological mother is the person who took your daughter. But we do believe that her name is Kaylie Rousch, and she was a missing child, just like Rachel is now.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  But Kevin had leaned back in his chair, a look of wariness on his face. “Kaylie Rousch is the little girl—she’s a woman now—who’s been all over the news this morning. She was dead, they found her body. Now we find out they made some terrible mistake and she’s come back to life. You’re telling us this woman was Rachel’s biological host?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s what we think.” Fletch sat back in the chair. Biological host? God, what an expression.

  “But according to the news, the Rousch girl was stashed away in a cult for years, right?” Stevens asked.

  Jordan nodded, took a sip of the coffee. “Yes, she was. We need to know how the adoption worked. Who facilitated it for you?”

  Claire had recovered her composure. She was still pale, but there was some life in her eyes. “We had a lawyer. He helped us find the firm who did the private adoption. They were out of Lynchburg, Virginia. I only know that because I ran a background trace on our lawyer’s phone and saw all the calls he made when he was billing us were to a firm down there. We were never given their name, and to be honest, I never wanted it. What we were doing wasn’t against the law, not at all. They said it wasn’t going to take much time to get us a child, and we were thrilled when they were true to their word.”

  “And you never dug any deeper? You checked out your own lawyer but not the firm he was working with?”

  “That’s right. Our lawyer was taking our money regardless of whether we got a child. I wanted to be sure he was legitimate. And he was—he checked out. After that, I let it drop.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Barry Evans, but he passed away a few years ago. He was based here in D.C., but he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer soon after Rachel came home to us. He sold his practice, shut everything down to try and fight the disease. Sadly, it didn’t work out for him,” Stevens said.

  “That’s good information, Mr. Stevens, but still, I need both names. Do you know who was your lawyer working with?”

  Kevin Stevens looked at his wife, who nodded. “His name was Rolph Benedict.”

  * * *

  Fletcher called Sam as they left the Stevens house, told her what they’d learned, promised to keep her filled in. Confirming Rachel was adopted, and knowing that Rolph Benedict had brokered the deal, brought many things into focus. They now had proof Mac Picker’s firm was involved in baby-brokering. Claire Stevens even admitted they’d paid a hundred thousand dollars for Rachel.

  It was a lot of money, but not if you didn’t want any trace of the fact that you weren’t the biological parents of a child. Rachel’s birth certificate listed Claire and Kevin Stevens as her biological mother and father. There were no adoption records at all, no paperwork. Even the money trail had been erased. A child bought with no one the wiser.

  Fletcher wondered how many more were out there.

  He stared out the window as Jordan drove back into the city. The day was going to be a scorcher, followed by wicked thunderstorms in the late afternoon and early evening. Stormy weather would hamper their search. He wanted to find Rachel before then.

  They had all the threads. Now it was time to weave them into some semblance of a fabric everyone could understand. If they could do that, they’d find Rachel Stevens and Kaylie Rousch. And destroy Eden.

  Chapter

  51

  Fauquier County, Virginia

  BALDWIN ARRIVED AT the unholy hour of 7:00 a.m. Xander had begged off, said he wanted to spend some time on the computer seeing what he could find about Eden and its followers. She knew he was going to do some deeper sleuthing, in places the FBI couldn’t legally go. With any luck, they’d all get some answers soon.

  He came to the door as Sam was leaving, kissed her, gave her a pat on the bottom and sent her on her way. All she was missing was a lunch box.

  She was somewhat refreshed after a few hours of sleep, a hot shower and half a pot of extremely strong Turkish coffee. The bandage on her neck itched. She’d checked the wound and thought it was going to heal fine, possibly without a scar. Her hands hurt, and her shoulders were sore from the struggle with Kaylie, but other than that, she felt good. Jazzed. Everything was coming together, and she was certain they were on the right track at last.

  She kept an eye out, knowing Adrian or even Kaylie might be lurking nearby. But the birds were chirping and people flowed up and down the Georgetown streets without a care. She didn’t get the sense either of them were nearby.

  That’s the point, isn’t it, Sam? He’s a prolific serial killer—he knows how to make himself invisible.

  Bravery banished, she hopped into Baldwin’s vehicle and triggered the door locks.

  He glanced at her but didn’t say anything. Once they were over the Key Bridge and driving west on the George Washington Parkway, Sam told Baldwin everything Xander and Fletcher had discovered, and asked him what he hoped to accomplish talking to Anne Carter.

  “That’s a good question. I don’t know, exactly. We’re missing something. She was in charge of the operation, had access to all the files, all the intel. It’s been ten years. There’s a whole new round of leadership in place. More than that, I’m not convinced the files we have are accurate. You know we don’t like to commit everything to paper. An agen
t going rogue is what we fear the most. I’m hoping Carter left something out, something important, that might help us.”

  “Any news on Rachel?”

  His lips tightened. “No. The search resumed at first light. There have been hundreds of tips, and we’re chasing them all down, but none has been the one we need. Like Fletch said, Agent Blake is putting together a team to go into the area specified in Kaylie’s note. The BOLO on her got us exactly squat. She’s quite good at blending in.”

  “I think you were right. Matcliff had years to teach her military survival tactics. The question is, where do you think she’d headed?”

  “Same place we are, when we find out where it is. Eden.”

  “You know that’s where Rachel has to be. Shouldn’t we be helping them?”

  “I’m happy to let Jordan’s team handle the operational stuff. They can’t go in without authorization, and that’s going to take a while. We’ll catch up to them. I have a hunch we’re going to find something useful out here. We’ll talk to Carter, and then we’ll head back and see if they’re ready to saddle up. What’s Xander really doing?”

  She smiled. “You’re quick. Most people think he just lazes about by the pool and jogs with the dog.”

  “He’s much too intelligent to waste his time doing nothing. I figure he’s been working all the angles this whole time.”

  “You’re right. He has been. So I’ll be honest with you. If he’s not on the computer digging, he’s probably on the road behind us, heading out to Great Falls with Thor.”

  Baldwin shot her a glance. “Should I let the team know there’s a friendly in the woods?”

  “You can, but they won’t see him. He’s like the wind out there. If he finds something worth our time, he’ll call in.”

  “You sure about that?”