The Last McCullen

by Rita Herron

  Ryder shrugged. “Either him or another child. We could be dealing with a desperate, possibly unstable parent. Perhaps someone who lost a child or couldn’t have a baby was depressed, desperate. He or she could have scouted out the nursery. It’s happened before.”

  Tia shivered.

  Ryder couldn’t resist. He gently took her arms in his hands and forced her to face him. “If someone took him because they wanted a family, that means Jordie will be well taken care of, that he or she will keep him safe.”

  Tia released a pent-up breath, then gave a little nod. “I want to appear on television and make a plea for whoever took Jordie to return him to me.”

  Ryder hesitated. “That could work, but it could backfire, Tia. Sometimes going to the media draws out the crazies and we waste time on false leads.”

  Her eyes glittered with emotions. “Maybe. But if the person who abducted Jordie wants a family like you suggested, seeing how much I love and miss my baby might make them rethink what they’ve done and bring him back.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  “Please, Agent Banks,” she whispered. “I have to do everything I can to find him.”

  Ryder inhaled. “All right, I’ll set it up.”

  “For today,” Tia said. “I want to do it right away.”

  “All right, but call me Ryder.” After all, they were going to be spending a lot of time together—as much as it took until they recovered her son.

  “All right, Ryder,” she said, her soft voice filled with conviction. “I want to speak to the press as soon as possible.”

  Ryder nodded then stepped aside to make the call.

  * * *

  TIA’S HEART RACED as Ryder returned, his phone in hand. “Did you set it up?”

  “Yes. At six. They’ll air it on the evening news.”

  “Good. That will give us time to go to the hospital.”

  Ryder agreed and they hurried to his SUV. Ten minutes later, she led the way to the hospital maternity floor. The nurses at the nurses’ station looked surprised to see Tia, their nervous whispers making her wonder what they thought.

  Hilda, the head charge nurse, hurried around the desk edge and swept her into a hug. “Oh, my God, Tia. I’m so sorry about the kidnapping. Did the police find Jordie?”

  Tia shook her head no and introduced Ryder. “Agent Banks is looking for him.”

  “I need to talk to each of the staff members who were on duty the night Tia delivered.”

  Hilda looked eager to help. “All right, I’ll get a list and text them.”

  “Also, I need to know if anyone suspicious has been lurking around the nursery area and this ward.”

  “Not that I know of,” Hilda said. “But I’ll ask around.”

  “Do you have security cameras on this floor?”

  “Absolutely,” Hilda said. “We take our patients’ and their children’s safety very seriously.”

  “Good. I want to review all the tapes the week prior to Jordie’s disappearance as well as the week he was born.”

  Hilda nodded, then stepped to the desk to set things up.

  Tia held her breath. If Ryder was right, maybe the person who’d taken her son was on one of those tapes.

  Chapter Nine

  Tia hurried toward the nurse who’d coached her during labor. Amy spoke to her, then Tia introduced Ryder.

  “This is Special Agent Ryder Banks,” Tia said. “He’s helping me search for my son.”

  Ryder flashed his credentials. “I’m talking to all the staff,” he said. “You were here the night Tia delivered her son?”

  Amy nodded. “I worked night shift that week.”

  Tia offered her a smile of gratitude. “Amy was my labor coach. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

  Amy shrugged. “You did the hard work, Tia.” Her voice cracked. “I’m just sorry for what’s happened.”

  Tia swallowed the fear eating at her. “I’m going on television to make a plea to get Jordie back.”

  Amy squeezed her hand. “I hope that helps.”

  Ryder cleared his throat. “Amy, have you noticed anyone lurking around the maternity floor? Maybe someone near the nursery?”

  Amy fidgeted with the pocket of her uniform. “Not really.”

  “How about a patient who lost a child?” Cash’s story about the McCullens echoed in his head. “A grieving mother might be desperate enough to take someone else’s child to fill the void of her own loss.”

  Amy squeezed Tia’s hand again. “That’s true. But I can’t discuss other patients’ medical charts or history.”

  “You don’t have to. Just tell me if there’s someone who fits that description.”

  Amy worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “There was one woman who suffered from complications and delivered prematurely, only twenty weeks.”

  Tia’s heart ached for her. “That must have been devastating.”

  Amy nodded. “She and her husband were in the middle of a divorce, so she blamed him. She thought the stress triggered her premature labor.”

  Hilda returned and motioned for them to join her at the desk. “The security guard is waiting whenever you want to take a look at those tapes.”

  “Thanks.” Ryder turned back to Amy. “Why don’t you watch the tapes with us? If you see anyone you think is suspicious, you can point them out.”

  Amy and Hilda exchanged concerned looks, then Amy followed them to the security office. They passed a nurse named Richard who grunted hello.

  Amy exchanged a smile with him and introduced Ryder. “I’m canvassing the staff to see if anyone saw or heard anything strange when Miss Jeffries was here.”

  “I didn’t see anyone suspicious.” Richard gave Tia a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about your baby, Miss Jeffries.”

  Tia murmured thanks, then Richard had to go to the ER.

  Hilda led them into the security room, and she, Ryder and Amy gathered to view the tapes.

  When the guard zeroed in on the camera feed showing her at admissions, Tia’s heart gave a painful tug. That night she’d been so excited. After nine months of carrying her baby inside her, of feeling his little feet and fists push at her belly, of listening to his heartbeat during the ultrasounds and imagining what he might look like, her son was going to be born.

  She was going to have a family of her own.

  He had cried the moment he’d come out, a beautiful sound that had brought tears to her eyes. He had a cap of light blond hair, blue eyes and tiny pink fingers that had grasped her finger when she’d caressed him to her breast.

  But now he was gone.

  * * *

  RYDER PARKED HIMSELF in front of the security feed, anxious to find a lead. Amy certainly seemed to care about Tia and wanted to be helpful.

  Tia’s breath rattled out with nerves as she sank into the chair beside him. One camera shot captured her entering the ER—apparently she’d driven herself. She held her bulging belly with one hand, breathing deeply, as she handled the paperwork.

  Although her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was obviously in pain, she looked...happy. Glowing with the kind of joy an expectant mother should be feeling.

  All his life, he’d thought his birth mother had sold him. But if Cash was telling the truth, she hadn’t done any such thing.

  She died trying to find us.

  Cash had insisted that was the truth.

  Had his biological mother felt that anticipation over giving birth to him and Cash, only to be grief stricken when she was told her twins were stillborn?

  His lungs squeezed for air. How she must have suffered.

  Tia was wheeled into a triage room, then a delivery room, where they lost sight of her.

  “Let’
s look at the hallways near the nursery the week before—”

  “Go back to the day he was born,” Amy suggested quietly.

  That must have been around the time when the other woman lost her baby.

  The next half hour they studied each section of the tape, zeroing in on parents and grandparents and friends who’d visited—most of whom looked elated as they oohed and aahed over the infants in the nursery.

  Couples came and went, huddling together, smiling, laughing and crying as they watched the newborns.

  Emotions churned in Ryder’s belly. He’d never imagined having a family of his own—a wife, kids. Not in the picture. Not with the job he did.

  A long empty space of tape, then another crew of family members appeared, gushing and waving through the glass window.

  Just as they left, a young woman emerged from the shadows, her thin face haggard and lined with fatigue. She was hunched inside an oversize raincoat, her hair pulled back beneath a scarf, her face a picture of agony as she studied the infants. The nurse, Richard Blotter, paused as he passed, his gaze narrowed.

  “There’s Jordie,” Tia said in a raw whisper.

  The woman hesitated as she walked along the window, eyeing the pink and blue bundles. She paused in front of Jordie’s bassinet.

  Tia straightened, her body tensing as she leaned forward to home in on the woman’s face.

  “She’s looking at Jordie,” she said in a low voice.

  Yes, she was.

  Richard passed the nursery, but the woman hurried away.

  Ryder swung his gaze toward Amy, but she quickly glanced toward the floor, avoiding eye contact as she bit her lower lip.

  “Do you know who this woman is?” Ryder asked.

  “I don’t remember her name,” Amy said, “but she’s the woman I mentioned who lost her baby.”

  “I need a copy of this tape,” he told the security guard.

  The tech team could work wonders with facial recognition software. He’d also get a warrant for medical records and find out her name.

  She might be the person who’d stolen Tia’s child.

  * * *

  TIA CONSTANTLY CHECKED the clock as Ryder questioned other staff members. Hilda discreetly ran a check for any patients who’d required mental health services.

  As they left the hospital, Ryder drove to the county crime lab and dropped off the partial print and matches he’d found outside the nursery along with the tapes for analysis. He wanted the ID of the woman who’d been watching those babies.

  He received a text from the FBI analyst as they walked back to his SUV. “One of our analysts located Bennett Jones.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Jones remarried and moved to Texas. Been there four months. His first wife claims he’s made no move to see their baby since he met the other woman.”

  Tia gritted her teeth. “That’s not uncommon. He was angry when she left, had a bruised ego, but he quickly replaced his family with another one.”

  Ryder grunted a sound of disapproval. “I also have an address for the woman, Wanda Hanson. She entered a rehab program after her husband gained custody of their infant.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “A few miles outside Pistol Whip.” He started the engine and pulled onto the highway. Tia contemplated the woman in the security tape as he drove. Sympathy for her situation and her loss filled Tia. If she’d taken Jordie, hopefully he was in good hands.

  But Jordie belonged to her. With her.

  And she would do whatever necessary to bring him home.

  The sun dipped behind a sea of dark clouds, painting the sky a dismal gray. The farmland looked desolate, with dry scrub brush dotting the landscape, the ground thirsty for water.

  Ryder drove down a narrow two-lane road past a cluster of small, older homes that needed serious upkeep. A few toys and bicycles were scattered around, the yards overgrown and full of weeds.

  He checked his phone for the address, then turned in the drive of a redbrick ranch. Anxious to see if Wanda had her son, Tia slipped from the vehicle and started up the drive. Ryder caught her before she made it to the front door.

  “Let me handle this,” Ryder said in a gruff voice.

  “She hates me, Ryder. If she took Jordie, the minute she sees me, she’ll know the reason I’m here.”

  And Tia would know by the look on Wanda’s face if she was guilty.

  * * *

  RYDER PUNCHED THE DOORBELL, his gaze scanning the property for any sign Wanda was home, but there was no car in the drive. It was impossible to see in the tiny windowless garage.

  Tia stepped slightly to the right and peered through the front window. From his vantage point, the house looked dark.

  “Do you see anything? Any movement?” he asked.

  “No one in the kitchen or den.”

  He rang the bell again, then banged on the door. Seconds passed with no response. He jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked.

  “I’m going to check around the side and back.”

  He veered to the left and Tia followed.

  “You’re sure this is her place?” Tia asked.

  “Yes, our analyst, Gwen, is good at her job. Apparently Wanda had no money for rent or to buy a house. This place belonged to her mother, who passed away last year. She’s been living here since the custody hearing.”

  He passed the side window. No lights inside. The curtains hung askew, clothes scattered around the room. Dry leaves crunched as they inched to the back door. He jiggled the door but it was locked.

  Dammit, he wanted to search the interior. He removed a tiny tool from his pocket just as Tia did the same.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, remembering the way they’d met. “Don’t touch anything, Tia. If we find evidence, I don’t want it thrown out because you were present.”

  “Don’t you need a warrant?” Her brows furrowed at the unpleasant reminder, and she jammed the tool back in her pocket.

  Hell, he was breaking the rules. “Technically, yes. But it’s acceptable if I have probable cause. I can always say we heard a noise and thought the baby was inside.”

  Ryder yanked on latex gloves, opened the door, flipped on the overhead light and called out, “FBI Special Agent Banks. Is anyone here?”

  Silence echoed back. Then Ryder stepped into the tiny kitchen. Outdated appliances, linoleum and a rickety table made the room look fifty years old. A dirty coffee cup sat in the sink along with a plate of dried, molded food. The garbage reeked as if it hadn’t been taken out in days.

  Ryder opened the refrigerator, and Tia spotted a carton of milk, eggs, condiments and a jar of applesauce.

  On the second shelf sat two baby bottles, half full of formula.

  Her pulse jumped. Why would Wanda have baby formula and bottles when there were no kids in the house?

  Her child was a toddler, too, not a baby, so why the bottle?

  Ryder crossed the room into the den and flipped on a lamp. The soft light illuminated the room just enough for her to see that Wanda wasn’t a housekeeper.

  Magazines, dirty laundry and mail were spread across the couch and table. A worn teddy bear had been stuffed in the corner along with an infant’s receiving blanket.

  Tia followed Ryder into the hall. The first bedroom had been turned into a nursery. Tia scanned the room, her heart racing at the sight of a tiny bassinet.

  Wanda’s baby had long ago outgrown it, but a receiving blanket lay inside, along with an elephant-shaped blue rattle.

  A baby had been here recently. Was it Jordie?

  Ryder paused to look at it, then walked over to the changing table and lifted the lid on the diaper pail.

  “Was Wanda allowed visitation rights?” Tia asked.

  He
shrugged, then made a quick phone call and identified himself. “Mr. Hanson, was your wife allowed visitation rights to your child?”

  Tia held her breath while she waited for the answer.

  “No. Hmm,” Ryder mumbled. Another pause. “When did you last see her or speak with her?”

  Silence stretched for a full minute. Ryder thanked the man then his gaze darkened.

  “He hasn’t heard from her. Said she hasn’t seen the kid, but he’s safe with him. The last time he talked to her, she’d fallen off the wagon and screamed at him that she hadn’t deserved to lose her little boy.”

  Tia trembled. Wanda blamed her, not her drug addiction.

  Ryder opened the dresser drawer—several baby outfits, all for newborn three-month-old boys. He hurried to the next bedroom while she stood stunned at the sight of the clothes.

  Ryder’s gruff voice made her stomach clench. “It looks as if her suitcase is gone and her clothes have been cleaned out, like she left in a hurry.”

  Tia gripped the edge of the baby bed. Had Wanda abducted Jordie and gone on the run?

  Chapter Ten

  Fear paralyzed Tia. “Look at these clothes and baby things,” she said to Ryder. “If Wanda has Jordie, with the border less than a day’s drive away, she might have taken him out of the country.”

  Ryder snatched his phone from the belt at his waist. “I’m going to issue a BOLO for her. Do you know what kind of car she drives?”

  Tia searched her memory banks. “She used to drive a black Honda, but that’s been over a year or so.”

  “I’ll have Gwen check her out. Look through that basket on the kitchen counter. See if you find a pay stub or anything else that might indicate where she’s going.”

  He riffled through the desk in the corner as he phoned the Bureau.

  She focused on the basket. Piles of overdue bills, a lottery ticket, a speeding ticket that hadn’t been paid, a letter from the rehab center asking her to call her counselor.

  A manila envelope lay beside the basket. Tia opened it as Ryder stepped back into the room. She sighed at the legal document granting custody of Wanda’s child to her husband.