by Laura Scott
“She has hazel eyes,” she said, a hint of sadness in her tone. “So she can’t be Skylar.”
“I know.” Quinn put his arm around her shoulders, surprising her with a quick embrace. “Don’t worry, I just know we’re going to find Skylar.”
She raised her gaze to his. “I hope so,” she whispered.
For a long moment he gazed down at her, and she sensed he wanted to kiss her. She held her breath, surprised by how much she wanted it, too, but then the moment was gone.
“It’s past four,” Quinn said, dropping his arm and stepping away. “Let’s go meet Phoebe.”
She nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Surely meeting Phoebe, seeing if she was actually Skylar, was more important than Quinn’s kiss?
Of course it was.
Back inside the café, they walked up to the counter. The place had emptied out; there was no line. “Could we please speak to Phoebe Fontaine?” Quinn asked.
“Sorry, but Phoebe called in sick,” the young girl behind the counter said. “She sounded terrible.”
Sick? Shanna frowned and glanced doubtfully at Quinn.
“Okay, thanks for letting us know,” he said pleasantly. He turned and headed for the door, and she quickly followed, swallowing the hard lump of disappointment.
“I’m so upset,” she said as they walked back toward Quinn’s SUV. “I really wanted to talk to her.”
Quinn flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number. “Hi, Skip. Do me a favor and pull up Phoebe Fontaine’s address for me.”
By the time they reached the car, Quinn had Phoebe’s address. As much as she felt bad bothering the poor girl when she was sick, Shanna didn’t protest when he drove the few blocks to a rather run-down apartment building.
“Phoebe lives here?” she asked, trying to hide her dismay.
“Apartment 217,” Quinn said, climbing out from behind the wheel.
They walked up to the main door, and Quinn frowned when he tugged on it. “I can’t believe it’s not locked,” he muttered.
There was a small foyer with mailboxes lining one wall. The door leading to the rest of the building was locked. He pushed the intercom button above number 217 and waited.
No answer. Shanna stepped up and pushed the buzzer a second time, holding the button in longer. But still there was no answer.
“I can’t believe it,” Shanna murmured.
Quinn rubbed a hand over his chin. “I guess we’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
She stared at the silver mailbox with the name Fontaine printed neatly above it. “Maybe not,” she said, as an idea formed. “What if I dusted her mailbox for fingerprints? If we’re able to match Phoebe’s prints to the ones we have on file for Skylar, we’d know for sure that they’re the same person.” Shanna gazed at Quinn, barely able to contain her excitement. She was so close to proving Phoebe was really Skylar, and she didn’t want to wait one minute longer than she had to in order to prove it.
THIRTEEN
“I doubt you’ll get anything useful,” Quinn protested.
She lightly grasped his arm. “Please, Quinn? What can it hurt to try? I can’t bear not knowing for sure.”
He glanced down at her and then smiled slowly. “All right, Shanna,” he agreed. “Why not?”
“Great.” She was overwhelmed with relief. “Take me back to my place—I have everything I need at home.”
Quinn nodded, and they left the apartment building where Phoebe lived to walk back to his SUV.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” he cautioned as he drove toward her house. “We have no proof whatsoever that Phoebe is Skylar.”
“I know,” Shanna murmured. And she did know the odds were against them. At the same time, she couldn’t completely quell her excitement. She knew God was helping her, showing her the way. And if the fingerprints weren’t a match, then she’d know to keep moving forward.
When Quinn pulled into her driveway, she gripped the door handle, ready to bolt into the house.
“Hold it,” Quinn commanded, hitting the locks so she couldn’t jump out of the car. “You’re not going inside until I make sure it’s safe.”
“All right,” she said, handing over her keys. “But please hurry.” Holding back wasn’t easy, but there wasn’t any point in arguing. The faster Quinn determined no one was hiding inside, the quicker she’d get her supplies and head back to Phoebe’s apartment.
“Stay inside the car with the doors locked,” Quinn instructed. She waited until he’d climbed out from behind the wheel before hitting the door locks.
Quinn went inside and she held her breath, fidgeting impatiently in her seat as she waited for him to return. After a long, agonizing ten minutes, he finally opened the door and gestured for her to come inside.
“Doesn’t seem like anyone’s been in since you were here last,” Quinn admitted as he held the door open for her. “The air is a bit stale.”
She wrinkled her nose, agreeing with his assessment. Surely by now, the stalker had given up watching her house, especially given that she hadn’t been back to stay since the night of the attack.
In her closet, she found her fingerprint kit right where she’d left it, tucked in a corner in the back. She brought it out and walked back to the kitchen. “Quinn, I really need to take my car back to the university campus. This investigation is heating up, and I don’t want to be without my own vehicle.”
“No, absolutely not.” The stubborn expression on Quinn’s face made her want to sigh.
“Quinn, we can cover more ground on this investigation if we each have our own cars.” She knew she was fighting an uphill battle, but she had to try. “Besides, I’m sure the stalker has given up watching my house and my car, since we purposefully haven’t used them in the past few days.”
“What about the attempted hit-and-run?” Quinn asked skeptically.
“We don’t even know that I was the target,” she pointed out. “And he probably got lucky catching sight of me walking along the street. I’ll be safer in a vehicle.”
Quinn stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll only agree on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We switch vehicles for now. I’ll drive your car and you can drive mine.”
At least he’d attempted to compromise, meeting her halfway. “Agreed. Thanks, Quinn.”
“You’re welcome,” he responded grudgingly.
They swapped car keys, and Shanna waited on the street in Quinn’s car until he’d pulled her car out of the driveway and closed the garage door behind him.
He went ahead, and she followed behind as they drove back to Carlyle University. Finding two parking spaces next to Phoebe’s apartment wasn’t easy, but Quinn didn’t say anything about it as they walked up to the apartment building.
Shanna eagerly began to unpack her supplies, but Quinn once again pushed the buzzer for Phoebe’s apartment. She froze, holding her breath, but just as earlier, there was no answer.
“If she’s sick, why isn’t she here to answer the door?” he muttered under his breath.
“Maybe she went home to visit her parents,” she mused, brushing the silver metal door with fingerprint powder. “She’s still young—maybe she’s looking for some TLC from her mother while she’s not feeling good.”
“Maybe,” Quinn responded, although he didn’t look convinced.
She worked on the mailbox door, but after a good ten minutes, she tossed the brush down in disgust. “You were right, Quinn. There are way too many prints on this door to find anything useful.”
“It was worth a try,” he said consolingly.
She didn’t want to admit defeat. Taking a soft cloth from her kit, she wiped down the door, using force to make sure that all the current smudges were eliminated. “Maybe when she returns home, she’ll check her mail and I’ll be able to find an isolated print.” Tonight. She’d come back later tonight.
Quinn’s cell phone rang before he could respond. “Hi, Hank
,” he answered. “What’s up?” There was a long pause, and then he met her gaze. “Yeah, she’s here with me. I’ll let her know, thanks.”
She lifted a brow. “Let me know what?”
“That Special Agent Marc Tanner from the FBI wants to talk to you. Actually, to both of us.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised. Hadn’t Hank told them he was getting the feds involved? “That was fast,” she murmured.
“Yeah and they’re waiting down at the police station, anxious for us to tell them everything we know,” Quinn said.
She glanced regretfully at the shiny silver mailbox and then forced herself to turn away. She would come back after their meeting with the feds. “Well then, I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”
Quinn pulled up into the police station general parking lot and waited for Shanna to park his SUV in the empty spot next to him. He tried to tell himself that Shanna was perfectly safe in his vehicle, rather than driving around in her own, but knowing that logically didn’t prevent him from offering a quick, silent prayer.
Dear God, please keep Shanna safe in Your care.
He found the prayer comforting, and knew that Shanna deserved the credit for his newfound faith. The way her blue eyes sparkled bright with excitement made her look more beautiful than ever.
Once again, he wondered what would happen between the two of them once they’d found Shanna’s sister and Brady’s killer. The case had brought them together, but once it was solved, would they each go their separate ways?
He knew that being a cop made having a relationship nearly impossible, but now that he’d met Shanna, he didn’t want to lose her.
She’s not yours to lose, he reminded himself sternly. But he still took her elbow as they walked up the stairs and into the station.
Hank stood beside a tall, young man with chocolate-brown hair and clean-cut features. For a moment, he glanced down at Shanna, hoping she didn’t find the guy attractive. She must have sensed his gaze because she glanced up at him and smiled nervously.
“Thanks for coming in so quickly,” Hank said by way of greeting. “Special Agent Marc Tanner, this is Officer Quinn Murphy and crime-scene investigator Shanna Dawson.”
“Nice to meet you,” Shanna said, stepping forward to take Agent Tanner’s outstretched hand. “Skylar Dawson is my younger sister.”
“Ms. Dawson. Officer Murphy.” Agent Marc Tanner shook hands with both of them briefly and didn’t waste any time on small talk. “If you’ll come this way?” He indicated the room they’d occupied just a few hours earlier.
The way Shanna clasped her hands tightly in her lap betrayed her nervousness. He put a hand on her back, trying to reassure her. They took two seats across the table from Agent Tanner.
“Officer Murphy, I understand you have some information regarding the New Beginnings Adoption Agency?” Agent Tanner asked.
“Yes. My brother, Brady Wallace, was doing a story on adoption for the university online newspaper. According to his notes, his roommate, Dennis Green, had asked my brother to assist in finding his birth mother.”
“Brady Wallace is your half brother, correct?” Agent Tanner asked.
Quinn tried not to let his annoyance show. “Technically, yes, we have different fathers. But Brady was my brother in every way that counts.”
Agent Tanner looked surprised by his curt reaction. “I wasn’t implying otherwise, Officer Murphy, just making sure I understood the difference in your last names.”
He forced himself to relax. “Brady was looking for the New Beginnings Adoption Agency because that’s the paperwork Dennis Green apparently had regarding his adoption. But the agency was only in business for five years. According to Brady’s records, the agency shut its doors fourteen years ago.”
“Interesting timing, wouldn’t you agree?” Tanner asked. When Quinn nodded, the FBI agent continued, “Do you mind sharing all the information your brother uncovered for his article? He could have some information there that might seem innocuous but could in reality be a great lead.”
“I don’t mind at all, but honestly there isn’t a lot of concrete information in his notes.” Privately, Quinn had thought his brother hadn’t exactly used the unbiased eye of a journalist on the subject. But Brady was only a journalism major, not a full-fledged investigative reporter. “Most of the stuff he wrote down was nothing more than theory and speculation. Although he was trying to find other private-adoption agencies that were in the area, too.”
This caused Agent Tanner to lean forward eagerly. “Do you have names of any other adoption agencies?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, but no, my brother didn’t list any by name.”
“I see.” Disappointment flared in Tanner’s eyes. “Well even so, I’d appreciate access to everything your brother has.”
“I’ll make sure you get a copy of this,” he said, pulling out the jump drive.
Shanna had been quiet up until now. “Agent Tanner, do you have any leads on Skylar’s disappearance? Is it possible she was also adopted out through the New Beginnings Adoption Agency?”
The FBI agent’s gaze softened a bit. “Not yet, but you need to know, finding your sister’s fingerprints at the crime scene injected life into a very cold case, Ms. Dawson. To be honest, we assumed your sister was dead.”
Shanna blanched but nodded her understanding. Quinn leaned forward, placing a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “We’ll find her, Shanna,” he murmured. “Knowing your sister is alive, is all that matters right now.”
She nodded, but leaned against him anyway, as if needing some of his strength. He found he enjoyed being there for Shanna.
And maybe, just maybe, once they solved this case, she’d let him stay a part of her life.
The thought was a little scary, considering he’d given up any hope of ever having a relationship. But the alternative, life without Shanna, was even worse, so he squelched the niggle of fear.
“Obviously, we were hoping you had a few leads related to Skylar’s kidnapping,” Quinn said.
Agent Tanner was silent for a moment. “We do have an adoption agency that we’re looking into right now that’s located in Atlanta, Georgia. In fact, that’s where I was when we got the call from your Detective Nelson. The name of the agency in Georgia is Sunrise Adoption Agency.”
Shanna glanced up at Quinn hopefully, but he only shook his head. “Never heard of it, I’m afraid.”
“Me, neither,” Shanna said sadly.
“The founder of the agency is a guy named Geoff Wellington,” Tanner continued. “And interestingly enough, the owner of the New Beginnings Agency was a man by the name of George Worth.”
“The same initials, huh?” Quinn glanced at Shanna, who wore a hopeful expression. “Do you think these two could be the same guy?”
“We have photos of each man, and they don’t look as if they’re the same guy. But that doesn’t mean that a ring of thieves hasn’t figured out how to use fake names and identities, switching off as agency founders so no one links them together.”
Quinn had to admit the theory made some sense. Criminals spent almost as much time covering their tracks as they did perpetuating actual crimes.
“So they really could be the same agency?” Shanna asked.
“This new agency has only been in business for eighteen months, so it’s entirely possible that they keep reinventing themselves every few years,” Tanner explained. “We’ve had our eye on them because within the past six months, two children within a fifty-mile radius of Atlanta have gone missing. And there were also two others, one from North Carolina and one from Alabama, who went missing. We suspect they’re trying to widen the range of abductions to remove any potential links between the kidnappings.”
Shanna reached over to grasp Quinn’s hand tightly. “Four more? You have to stop them, Agent Tanner. Before any more children go missing.”
“That’s the plan, Ms. Dawson,” he said with a hint of dryness in his tone. “Bu
t we’re also trying to link this founder to the other agencies that are no longer in business. We’re pretty sure that Geoff Wellington is an alias. He didn’t exist, from what we can tell, until three years ago. And interestingly enough, George Worth disappeared right after New Beginnings closed down.”
Quinn had to believe the feds were on the right track. “More evidence, although circumstantial, that they might be one and the same man.”
“That’s my thought,” Tanner agreed.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Quinn asked. He didn’t want to be left out of the investigation, and he especially didn’t want Shanna left out. She had more to lose. He wanted to bring justice to Brady’s murderer, but she wanted to find her sister. Live siblings took priority over deceased ones.
“Not at this time. Trust me when I tell you we’re following up on all leads,” Tanner said kindly. “In fact, I’m going to interview Dennis Green next.”
“I’m sure Hank told you we believe Dennis Green is really Kenny Larson, the child who disappeared from the shopping mall fifteen years ago,” Shanna interjected. “I have the age-progression photo next to Dennis Green’s university ID photo to prove it.”
Agent Tanner’s face darkened, as if he was embarrassed. “Yes, Detective Nelson did give us your photos. Nice piece of detective work, Ms. Dawson. Between finding your sister’s fingerprints at Officer Murphy’s brother’s crime scene and discovering the link between Dennis Green and Kenny Larson, you’ve really helped us rejuvenate this cold case.”
Quinn beamed with pride. Because he, too, thought Shanna had made remarkable strides in a case that was fourteen years old. “Maybe you should offer her a job,” he joked.
Tanner didn’t laugh or even crack a smile. “Maybe we should,” he admitted grimly. “The agent in charge of this case retired a few years ago, and I can’t say I’m overly impressed with his efforts.”
“Interesting,” Quinn murmured. He bet there was plenty of finger-pointing going around at the FBI headquarters now that a lowly college journalism student and a crime-scene investigator had broken their case wide open.