I thought again of Trey’s tearful plea this morning, and it made my stomach turn. He was bound to take advantage of her car being found—especially since he was the one who’d loaned it to her.
“A few things,” I said. “And one requires another favor from you, which was why I was calling.”
“Name it.”
I glanced at Sean then Aiden and swallowed hard. “There’s a woman who works at the CFC. Blond, gum-chewing. She was wearing a charm bracelet and has fancy fingernails. Do you know her name?”
She had been the woman in the video. I recognized her fingernails as she punched numbers, and had seen the charms on her bracelet swaying as she grabbed the cash spit out by the machine.
He laughed. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. Her name is Lillian Moore.”
Freezing in place, I nearly dropped the phone. “Lillian?” I repeated, recalling what Jeremy Cross had said earlier.
The call that sent Kira into a tailspin came from someone named Lillian.
“She’s not,” I swallowed hard, “not your contact at the CFC, is she?”
“No, no. My contact is Barb Manciello.”
The assistant director? The one who skipped out on my meeting the other day? “Really?”
“Between us, she wants this case solved more than anyone. She’s aiming to take the director spot once the dust settles. She’s actually why I was going to call you,” he said. “She did me a huge favor by looking into Cat’s schedule on January third. I’m very pleased to report that Cat Bennett wasn’t in town. Kira must have been mistaken in believing so.”
“She wasn’t?” This seemed to completely contradict what Jarvis Kinson had told us.
“Cat was out of town at a conference in Houston. She’d left the day before and didn’t return until several days later. In addition, her car was at Logan the whole time.”
The airport? How had it gotten to Dustin’s house?
This made no sense. Then I recalled Ross Bennett mentioning that Cat had lost a set of keys at the office Christmas party, and it suddenly hit me who it had been driving that car, who’d taken Dustin McDaniel. I felt sick to my stomach. More pieces fell into place, and there was no doubt in my mind that Lillian Moore was in trouble up to her eyebrows.
She knew Cat was out of town. Knew where to find the car. Knew she could borrow it without raising any alarms whatsoever. It was rather…ingenious.
Exactly how much trouble Lillian was in remained to be seen. Kira and Cat and Dustin were still missing. Until we found them, we wouldn’t know the extent of Lillian’s deviousness.
“If you’d like,” Elliman continued, “I can track down the conference coordinator to nail down a specific timeline.”
Aiden nodded that he wanted the information.
“That’d be great.” As I turned and hobbled in the other direction, I noticed that Ava had piled all her toy animals into the bassinet along with a handful of Cheerios and two dog toys. “Thank you. Do you happen to know where Lillian Moore lives?” We had to find her.
“Hanover, I believe. I have the exact address on my computer. Do you want it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“Do you want to hold on,” he asked, “or do you want me to call you back?”
“I’ll hold.” I resumed pacing. Nerves twisted my stomach into knots.
Elliman’s voice dropped. “Ms. Valentine, may I ask how Lillian Moore factors into your investigation of Kira’s disappearance?”
“Mr. Bay,” I replied in all honesty, “I wish I knew.”
Lillian Moore lived in a quaint neighborhood of classic older homes, on a quintessentially New England road dotted with mature trees. The modified gambrel looked in need of a little TLC, with faded siding and missing shingles. The stonework that ran along the foundation appeared sturdy enough, but rotted wood trim needed replacing around a large bay window that overlooked a lawn in desperate need of mowing. Despite the dark skies, no lights glowed in the windows. The cracked blacktop driveway led to the closed door of a two-car garage. It didn’t appear as though Lillian was home.
A lot had happened in the couple of hours since Corey McDaniel’s arrest and me seeing the ATM footage of Lillian. The search was on for Nya Rodriguez to let her know that there was no longer a threat to her family. Aiden had gone home to shower, change, and pack a bag. He’d also stopped by the barracks to pull info on Lillian.
I had continued to try to reach Morgan Creighton with no luck and attempt another reading on Cat’s sweater that revealed no new visions. I was beginning to worry about how much she was sleeping—it was unnatural. Was she ill from not having her diabetes medication? Or drugged?
From what we now knew, Lillian Elizabeth Moore, twenty-three years old, had moved to this home a year ago. There was currently a two-hundred-thousand-dollar mortgage taken out in her name after she’d dropped a hefty down payment of one hundred and twenty-five thousand. She had an associate’s degree in business administration. Her annual income at the CFC was thirty-four thousand dollars a year.
Uneasiness swept over me as I wondered how in the hell she had afforded this house. I tried to convince myself she came from money or had received an inheritance. That it had nothing to do with stolen debit cards and missing children.
8 x 2 is 16.
I couldn’t do it. The money had come from some black market baby deal. Rubbing my temples, I tried not to jump to conclusions about Kira’s fate. But I could easily picture Lillian gaining access to the Bennetts’ house with those stolen keys on Thursday night and calling Kira, luring her out of her home under false pretenses. They’d already met at the CFC, so Kira undoubtedly considered her a reliable contact. Perhaps Lillian had promised details on Dustin’s disappearance. It didn’t explain why Kira had left Scout with her neighbor or Ava with Aiden—unless Kira had also pieced together what had happened and went willingly into danger…
The fact that Lillian called from the Bennett home told me that she had a plan in place to frame Cat for the crimes. She’d purposely left that trail.
So, where was Cat? After meeting with Kira in the grocery store parking lot, she must have—at some point—figured out that someone had been driving her car while she was out of town. Did she put it together that Lillian was behind it? Had she confronted her? Lillian would have been desperate to cover her tracks.
Or, was it possible that Cat was her partner in crime? Had they orchestrated this devious plan together?
I didn’t know, and I hated that I didn’t know. But the one thing I was sure of, was that Cat was alive. But was she hiding out…or being kept captive?
I kept thinking about how much she was sleeping, and it just felt wrong. Something was off. She obviously wasn’t well…
Glancing in my rearview mirror, I saw Aiden pulling into the driveway, his gray unmarked cruiser matching the steely color of the sky—and my mood. We’d driven separate cars so he could take Lillian in for formal questioning if need be.
I thought it was entirely needed, but Aiden reminded me that there was no proof Lillian had done anything wrong. That it was possible Cat had let Lillian borrow her car, and she might be involved with the baby stealing as well. Or that Kira had given Lillian the debit card to use on her behalf. That the two were somehow friends or something…
I didn’t think he believed his theories any more than I did, but I supposed that’s what made him an excellent detective—he waited for facts whereas I was ready to throw Lillian into the clink. It was clear to me that she was involved, but I recognized that he had to play by the book.
As I hobbled to meet Aiden, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and immediately took the call.
It was Morgan Creighton.
“Any news?” he asked. “Did you find her? I heard about her car on the news, but nothing was said about a…body.”
I tried to ignore the way his breath hitched as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “We haven’t found her yet. It’s actually why I’ve
been trying to reach you. I think you might be able to help.”
Tapping his foot impatiently, Aiden’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply as he scanned the house, from chimney cap to the rose bushes hugging the foundation. Touching his sleeve to get his attention, I waved for him to go on without me.
“How?” Morgan asked in my ear.
“Did you gift Kira a watch?” I asked. “Gucci?”
“Yeah, for Mother’s Day. Why?”
Ha! I couldn’t wait to let Sean know I’d been right. I bit my lip and watched a squirrel scamper across the yard. “I noticed in recent video footage that she wore it often. There’s a chance she had it on when she disappeared.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, then quickly added, “Hold up. Is this about you doing a reading on me?”
Apparently, he’d done some research on me while recuperating. “Yes. If you gave it to her, and she has it on…I should be able to find it.”
“When? Where?” he asked eagerly.
I watched Aiden pound on the front door and press the buzzer. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here. “How about tonight?” I asked, playing it safe. “My place, eight o’clock?”
I gave him directions, and told him I’d call if plans changed. I tucked my phone back into my tote and wondered why Kira had bypassed a man who clearly adored her for someone like…Trey. I couldn’t fathom it, and I couldn’t even imagine how that had made Morgan feel.
Aiden came back down the driveway, his hands on his hips. He’d changed clothes before picking up his car, and he looked more himself in a button-down and khakis. His gun and badge were clipped to his belt.
“Not answering,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as though to ward off a headache.
I heard a noise behind me and looked back to see an older man, eighty-ish, striding toward us. He wore a pair of loose trousers and a green bowling shirt with GUY embroidered on the pocket.
“You looking for Lil?” he asked in raspy voice. Behind rectangular-rimmed glasses, he eyed Aiden’s gun and badge. He held out a hand for a shake. “Guy Lester.”
Aiden made introductions, and I was grateful Guy didn’t offer to shake my hand, too. My stress levels were already high enough without possibly seeing any visions of Guy’s lost objects. I immediately pegged him as the neighborhood lookout, the person who watched for strangers, weird happenings, and who didn’t mind getting in someone else’s business. I liked that about him. Especially right now when we needed to find out as much information about Lillian as we could.
“State police, eh? You here about the accident?” Guy asked, resting his hands atop a big belly.
“What accident?” Aiden asked.
“Lil’s accident,” Guy said. “Last night.”
Shit. I leaned on the push bumper guard on the front of Aiden’s car. “What happened?”
“Car accident on Route 53. Local police came around this morning, looking for her family,” Guy explained. He sucked in plump cheeks as he inhaled, then whistled low. “Said she crossed the median and hit another car head-on.”
“Is she…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word dead.
“She’s at South Shore Hospital. Critical,” he said. “They’re not sure she’ll make it. Too bad. Sweet girl. The other driver is critical, too. Damn shame.”
“Does anyone live here with her?” Aiden asked, looking back at the house. “Family? A roommate? Boyfriend?”
Guy’s lips puckered as he shook his head. “Lives alone, not that she’s antisocial. Always has people coming and going. Friends and the like. There’s an on-off boyfriend that drives a small black car, but I don’t know his name. I don’t think it’s anything serious. She has no family that I know of.”
“Did you ever see a blue four-door sedan here? Has a smiley face ball on its antenna?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’ve seen that car a few times,” he said.
“Recently?” Aiden asked.
Looking upward, Guy appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Thursday afternoon. I recall I saw it as I was on my way to my weekly golf game.”
Cat had been here, but where did she go afterward? The car had been found in the T station, after all. She could be anywhere by now.
“Actually,” he snapped his fingers, “on my way home, I saw Lil driving that car. Going a little fast, too. I’d been meaning to talk to her about it.” White bristly eyebrows dipped. “Did she do something wrong?”
“That remains to be seen,” Aiden said.
My pulse jumped. Cat had arrived…but didn’t leave? I glanced at the house again. What secrets did it hold? My gaze fell on that big bay window again, and I gasped. “Aiden, look.”
He spun around. “What?”
“There’s a vase in the window,” I said, excited. “Full of blue hydrangea.”
“Oh, yes,” Guy said. “Fresh-picked from Lil’s back yard. Gorgeous flowers.”
I was striding toward the back yard before he finished his sentence. Aiden jogged to catch up with me, and Guy was hot on his heels.
Sure enough, there was a hedge of hydrangea bushes, divided by back steps. I started pushing full branches aside, trying to see the foundation.
“What’re you looking for?” Guy asked.
“A window,” I answered.
“Here, Lucy,” Aiden called out from the other side of the stairs.
I limped over and crouched next to him. “See anything?”
“It’s too dark,” he said.
I stood up. “We need to go in. I think she’s really sick.”
As I brushed past Guy, heading for the steps to see if the back door was unlocked, he said, “What’s going on here?”
I was reaching for the handle when Aiden suddenly grabbed my arm, his grip tight and unyielding. “Lucy, stop! Don’t touch the door.”
Heart pounding, I snatched my hand back.
He examined the door frame. “We need to call the bomb squad. Just in case.”
“But—” I sighed.
It was safer to wait. I knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.
As I stepped down, I threw a look toward the window. Hopefully by the time we made it inside it wouldn’t be too late to save Cat.
22
The wait for the bomb squad to arrive, set up, and begin the search process felt interminable. Houses had been evacuated. The street had been cordoned off with yellow tape, and dozens of police officers, troopers, firefighters and EMTs lurked on the fringes. Despite the size of the crowd, it was deathly quiet. It was as though we were all collectively holding our breath.
Three bomb techs and an explosive-sniffing Labrador had already cleared the doors of the house. They had gone inside only moments before. We’d know soon enough if Cat was inside.
If she was alive or dead.
A squawking crow swooped by, breaking the utter silence and startling me. I instinctively ducked and then had to laugh at my reaction. Clearly I was on edge.
Aiden and I stood back from a group of uniformed troopers at the rear of a command truck. Unmoving, he had his arms folded on his chest, his jaw lifted, and a don’t-mess-with-me look on his face. He didn’t even so much as blink—at least not while I was watching.
I wanted to say something, anything, to ease some of his strain, but I couldn’t think of a damn thing. It had been one hell of a day.
One of the troopers at the command truck turned and gave Aiden a thumb’s up. A minute later, two EMTs, escorted by two police officers, dashed through the crowd carrying big medical bags.
Aiden sprinted toward the front of the house, and I limped after him. We were followed by a swarm of emergency personnel. A bomb tech met us at the door.
In full protective gear, the trooper was imposing. “Female located in the cellar as you suspected, Lieutenant.”
“Alive?” Aiden asked.
“Unconscious, but yes,” the tech answered. “She’d been locked down there. No way out, not that she could have attempted esca
pe in the condition she’s in. She’s in rough shape.”
Two more EMTs arrived with a stretcher. As they tried to maneuver around us, I reached out and grabbed one’s arm. “She has diabetes and hasn’t had insulin in days.”
“Thanks,” she said and kept on going. They shouldered past us, heading for a set of stairs in the kitchen.
The bomb tech said, “You’ll want to check out the guest bedroom upstairs.” He walked off.
The living room had been decorated in cool colors and expensive furniture. I noted, however, that there were no photos on the walls. Wooden floors creaked as we cut through, hurriedly headed for the stairs.
Aiden took hold of my elbow as we climbed, and at the top of the steps, he took a right into a narrow hallway. “In here.”
As soon as I entered the room, it felt as though I’d been sucker-punched. Breath whooshed out, and I leaned against the door jamb until I caught my bearings.
“Don’t touch anything,” Aiden said. “I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t want to touch anything. It all felt so…evil.
The room had been cleared of all furniture except a long dining table. One wall was completely devoted to large photos of six children in various candid shots. Playgrounds, daycares, grocery stores. I recognized Dustin’s face right away—and also Ava’s.
Kira had been rightfully concerned for Ava’s welfare—someone had been stalking the little girl.
My gaze zipped from face to face, smile to smile. I had no idea who the other children were, but all of them, I noted, were white with blond hair and blue eyes. All looked under three years old.
I felt sick to my stomach. How many of these kids were victims versus targets? Elliman Bay spoke of three missing children. Had there been more that he just hadn’t heard about?
Aiden came back in, slipping on a pair of disposable gloves. He handed me a pair. His lips were smashed together as he poked around the table.
He pulled a wallet from a purse and flipped it open. “Kira’s.”
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