baby had taken him because he knew she was crazy. Incompetent. That she couldn’t take care of herself, much less a child.
Maybe her son was better off where he was, never knowing about her.
John shook off his concerns over Amelia as he stepped inside his office and punched Agent Liz Lucas’s number. He’d heard Liz was considering taking a leave from the TBI, that she and Rafe Hood were marrying and adopting a little boy. But she had connections that might help him.
Besides, it wasn’t his problem to worry over how Amelia would take the bad news if his investigation didn’t turn out as she wanted.
And in spite of the fact that she’d claimed she didn’t expect a happy ending, he knew that deep down she hoped for it.
That was human nature.
Still, she’d learned the horrors of people and life, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting the truth. If he were in her place and his child had been taken, he’d do everything humanly possible to find the kid.
The phone trilled a fourth time, then Liz picked up. “Agent Lucas.”
“Liz, it’s John.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Didn’t you work with a social worker regarding files related to the CHIMES project?”
“Yes, why?”
“This is strictly confidential, but I have reason to believe that Amelia Nettleton may have given birth while she was locked in that sanitarium.”
“Good heavens.”
“The nurse who drugged her admitted that Amelia delivered a little boy.” He explained about the exhumation and finding the coffin with the teddy bear. “Forensics is processing the casket and bear. I need you to ask your contact if she can track down the names of any baby boys born on July fourth of that year. There might be a record of an adoption.”
“I’ll call her office, but actually she took a leave of absence. I’m working with a new social worker named Helen Gray,” Liz said. “I’ll have her phone you.”
John’s other line buzzed. “Thanks. I’ve got another call coming in.”
John punched connect to answer the call. “Agent Strong.”
“John, it’s Coulter. There’s been another kidnapping.”
Hell. “Another child?”
“Yeah, a boy just like the others.”
Chapter Seven
T he bad weather forced John to slow his speed, making the drive to the foster family’s house longer than it should have been. Worse, a tree had fallen in the middle of the road, making it impassable, and he’d had to turn around and find an alternate route.
He parked in front of the house and cut the engine. Snow had piled on the roof and frost coated the windows, icicles dangling from the awnings.
The house had once been white but now looked dingy yellow. Toys, a sandbox, and a rickety swing set were scattered across the fenced-in yard.
His mind raced. They’d known Billingsly hadn’t been working alone.
Fuck. Billingsly’s partner had probably taken this kid.
In spite of the cold and snow, two little girls with stringy brown hair and big doe-like eyes climbed a metal jungle gym, the tire swing next to them creaking as a redheaded little boy of about six pushed it back and forth.
At least the kids wore coats and gloves.
The kid pushing the swing looked the same age as Ronnie Tillman, the boy who was taken. Why take one boy and not both? Why had he left the redheaded kid behind?
So far the unsub hadn’t discriminated by hair color. And the boy was the right age and gender.
Coulter was already on the scene, standing with a woman in a brown coat and faded jeans at the edge of the playground. She appeared to be visibly shaken, one hand clutching a wad of tissues as she held a baby on her hip.
John analyzed the scene with a critical eye. Since the house sat on the corner of two streets, the playground was visible from the street, easy access for a predator.
One of the little girls dangled her legs from the top of the jungle gym. “You a cop?”
He nodded and flashed his badge. She shrugged, and he decided she’d probably dealt with
Maybe her son was better off where he was, never knowing about her.
John shook off his concerns over Amelia as he stepped inside his office and punched Agent Liz Lucas’s number. He’d heard Liz was considering taking a leave from the TBI, that she and Rafe Hood were marrying and adopting a little boy. But she had connections that might help him.
Besides, it wasn’t his problem to worry over how Amelia would take the bad news if his investigation didn’t turn out as she wanted.
And in spite of the fact that she’d claimed she didn’t expect a happy ending, he knew that deep down she hoped for it.
That was human nature.
Still, she’d learned the horrors of people and life, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting the truth. If he were in her place and his child had been taken, he’d do everything humanly possible to find the kid.
The phone trilled a fourth time, then Liz picked up. “Agent Lucas.”
“Liz, it’s John.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Didn’t you work with a social worker regarding files related to the CHIMES project?”
“Yes, why?”
“This is strictly confidential, but I have reason to believe that Amelia Nettleton may have given birth while she was locked in that sanitarium.”
“Good heavens.”
“The nurse who drugged her admitted that Amelia delivered a little boy.” He explained about the exhumation and finding the coffin with the teddy bear. “Forensics is processing the casket and bear. I need you to ask your contact if she can track down the names of any baby boys born on July fourth of that year. There might be a record of an adoption.”
“I’ll call her office, but actually she took a leave of absence. I’m working with a new social worker named Helen Gray,” Liz said. “I’ll have her phone you.”
John’s other line buzzed. “Thanks. I’ve got another call coming in.”
John punched connect to answer the call. “Agent Strong.”
“John, it’s Coulter. There’s been another kidnapping.”
Hell. “Another child?”
“Yeah, a boy just like the others.”
Chapter Seven
T he bad weather forced John to slow his speed, making the drive to the foster family’s house longer than it should have been. Worse, a tree had fallen in the middle of the road, making it impassable, and he’d had to turn around and find an alternate route.
He parked in front of the house and cut the engine. Snow had piled on the roof and frost coated the windows, icicles dangling from the awnings.
The house had once been white but now looked dingy yellow. Toys, a sandbox, and a rickety swing set were scattered across the fenced-in yard.
His mind raced. They’d known Billingsly hadn’t been working alone.
Fuck. Billingsly’s partner had probably taken this kid.
In spite of the cold and snow, two little girls with stringy brown hair and big doe-like eyes climbed a metal jungle gym, the tire swing next to them creaking as a redheaded little boy of about six pushed it back and forth.
At least the kids wore coats and gloves.
The kid pushing the swing looked the same age as Ronnie Tillman, the boy who was taken. Why take one boy and not both? Why had he left the redheaded kid behind?
So far the unsub hadn’t discriminated by hair color. And the boy was the right age and gender.
Coulter was already on the scene, standing with a woman in a brown coat and faded jeans at the edge of the playground. She appeared to be visibly shaken, one hand clutching a wad of tissues as she held a baby on her hip.
John analyzed the scene with a critical eye. Since the house sat on the corner of two streets, the playground was visible from the street, easy access for a predator.
One of the little girls dangled her legs from the top of the jungle gym. “You a cop?”
He nodded and flashed his badge. She shrugged, and he decided she’d probably dealt with
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