Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (15 page)

Every.

Single.

Day.

But she didn’t know how. Could Dante show her?

She glanced away from the laptop and looked at him. He quickly wrote on a notepad, then met her gaze. She instantly recognized the excitement in his eyes. Living with too many years of false hope, she tried not to let it affect her. Hope wasn’t something tangible. Throwing a penny in a fountain and making wishes that they’d find their daughter, or these serial kidnappers would do her little good. She could hope all she wanted, but without concrete evidence, all that would remain was her unanswered prayers.

She looked back to the screen and clicked on another missing boy’s name. This child was African American and had been five when he’d been taken. Before she became lost in his story, like she had with so many others, she exited from his profile and clicked on the next boy’s name. This one was Caucasian, but also older than what they were looking for. Before she could look at the next boy on the list, Dante set his cell phone on the card table.

“Shreveport PD had loads of info for us,” he said, waving the notepad he’d been using.

The hope she’d kept locked inside began to simmer. If she wasn’t careful, it would boil to the surface and bubble over, making the disappointment she would likely face later that much more upsetting.

“Turns out the detective I spoke with is familiar with CORE,” Dante continued. “I forgot John had worked a case in Bossier, Louisiana, a few years ago, which is right in Shreveport’s backyard.”

“Maybe we should bring John, or even Ian in on this,” she suggested. John Kain had come to CORE from the FBI. As a criminalist, he might offer a different spin on their case, and Ian had been a profiler with the FBI. Between the two of them, plus her and Dante’s investigation background, they could at least come up with a profile of whom they were up against.

“John’s out of town. And right now, Ian thinks I’m training his latest recruit. I’m not objecting to the idea, but let’s gather some additional evidence first.”

He had a point, and they at least still had Rachel. The computer forensics analyst might end up being more helpful than a criminalist and profiler anyway. If Rachel could find the locations where the strollers were purchased, she might be able to discover other traceable evidence—via the Internet—that could lead to the kidnappers’ identities. Or, at the very least, the real name of the boy found in Lamoni.

“So what did Shreveport PD have to say?” A knock came at the door. “Must be the pizza I ordered.”

He stopped her from rising. “I got it,” he said, and headed for the door.

As Dante paid for the pizza, she picked up the notepad. Reading through his notes, she couldn’t help letting her hope manifest. “Is this a serial number? Oh, my God, and a Walmart store ID?”

“Way to steal my moment,” he said with a grin, and set the pizza box on the only part of the card table that didn’t have clutter. “Do you have any plates and napkins?”

“They’re in the cabinet by the stove,” she said without looking up, then added, “There’s beer and pop in the fridge if you want one. I’ll take a beer.”

“Don’t get up on my account. I’m just the guest,” he said with heavy sarcasm, and went into the kitchen. Moments later he came back into the living room with two beers, paper plates and napkins. “You not only don’t have real plates, but I noticed your silverware drawer is full of plastic forks and knives. Now I know what to buy you for your birthday.”

“I don’t need the real stuff.” She never entertained and lived on takeout, sandwiches and Pop-Tarts. “Thanks for paying for the pizza,” she said, and took the plate he offered her.

“You’re welcome.” He set his plate on the table and sat next to her. “Can I have my notes back please?”

“Sorry, here.” She gave him the notepad. “Did I see a serial number scribbled in your notes?” she asked, picking up her slice of pizza. She hadn’t eaten since this morning, and her stomach immediately growled when she caught the spicy scent of pepperoni and marinara sauce.

“You did. So the detective I spoke with, Larry Gillespie, actually worked the case. I think even if I wasn’t with CORE, he would’ve been more than willing to talk to me. He was able to give me everything he had on it like that,” he finished with a snap of his fingers.

“He didn’t want it going cold,” she said, and wiped her mouth with the napkin.

“That’s my impression. He told me he had a gut feeling the boy they’d found wasn’t the only victim.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because he thought it was strange that the kidnappers took the boy from Atlanta, then moved to Little Rock, only to release him over the border in Louisiana.”

“Wait, how does he know the kidnappers were living in Little Rock?”

“He’s not one hundred percent sure, but the stroller Cody Graham was found in was traced back to a Walmart in Little Rock.”

Ignoring her pizza, she looked to the map they’d hung on the wall, then attacked the laptop’s keyboard. “Let’s see how far it is from Little Rock to Shreveport… Got it. Three hours, eleven minutes. And Cody was found outside of the church at—”

“Around eight-thirty in the evening. So, let’s say the kidnappers have regular jobs in Little Rock. They get off work around five, arrive in Shreveport shortly after eight, make the drop, then they could either head back home or head in another direction.”

“Like Wichita,” she suggested. “That’s where the next boy, Patrick Cleary, was taken.” She picked up her pizza and took a bite. Would the kidnappers have gone straight to Wichita to scope the area looking for another victim? She washed the bite down with a sip of beer. The bigger question…what was the point in taking the boys, only to give them back?

Dante reached for his beer. “Unless they’re independently wealthy, they’d have to have jobs.”

“Which would require addresses and social security numbers.”

“Right.”

He grabbed another slice of pizza. “They could rent and pay cash for everything. They’d have to have a driver’s license, so, bottom line, they’d be in the system.”

“But without prior arrests, they wouldn’t pop up on anyone’s radar.” She pushed her plate aside. “Did Detective Gillespie say anything about Cody Graham? We know the kid gave him the name Elton, but was there anything else?”

“Same as the Lamoni boy, Cody asked for his mommy and daddy. Gillespie also said they had a child psychologist work with him. He played with dolls that represented—what Gillespie assumed—the kidnappers. He showed no violence or anything out of the ordinary. By all accounts, it appeared that Cody was well taken care of—just like the Lamoni boy.” He wiped his hands on his napkin. “A pediatrician examined him and found no signs of sexual abuse. Gillespie commented that there’re other ways to abuse a child and suggested that maybe the kidnappers had forced the boy to—”

“Don’t go there. Please.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m not ignorant and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t happen, but I would assume the child psychologist was able to determine if there was indeed abuse of any sort.”

He nodded. “She found nothing.”

“Thank God. I suppose we can’t assume the same for the others. When you make those calls, you should ask. And when Walters calls back, I’m going to do the same.”

Her cell phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID. “That’s him now. Perfect timing.”

“You take that, I’ll go in the other room and call Blythe PD.”

Her conversation with Walters yielded her the serial number from the stroller, which was a huge bonus. They could find out exactly where the stroller had been purchased. While she had Walters on the phone, she took a page from Gillespie and asked if the boy had been examined by a pediatrician, as well as a child psychologist. She’d ended up with a yes on the pediatrician and a no on the psychologist, but Walters assured her that was in the works and the boy would meet with the psychologist on Monday.

She didn’t want to wait three days to hear what the psychologist had to say. She wanted an answer now. Although she had little experience with two to three-year-old children, like with any witness, it was always best to interrogate as quickly as possible, while memories and images were still fresh in their minds. “I would love to talk with the boy.” She’d already looked up the driving distance from Chicago to Lamoni and knew she and Dante could be there by noon tomorrow if they left first thing in the morning. “Would you be opposed to us coming to Lamoni and meeting with Elton?”

“Not at all,” Walters said, with enthusiasm. “What time can I expect you?”

She glanced into the living room. Dante sat on the old sofa, jotting notes. Maybe she should have consulted with him first. He might have had plans for tomorrow. “Around noon or so,” she replied, hoping Dante agreed.

“I look forward to it. Plan on coming out to my house, though. I think it’ll be more comfortable for Elton that way. Here, let me give you my address and cell phone number.”

After she took his information, she ended the call. Since Dante was still on the phone, she went back to looking through the missing children database. Thirty-five minutes later, Dante came back into the dining room.

“Any luck?” she asked.

When he grinned, she wanted to melt. Dante had a sexy smile, and this one oozed confidence. “Like you said, Blythe PD had turned the boy over to California Missing Persons Unit, who in turn tracked the stroller Patrick Cleary was found in to a Walmart in Goodyear, Arizona.”

She quickly typed in a search for the driving distance. “It would take the kidnappers less than two hours to get to Blythe from Goodyear. This could be part of their pattern.”

“Not living far from the state line? Absolutely. Before I get into why I agree, let me finish with Blythe. The person I spoke with—Officer Lynda Ortiz—was very familiar with the case, but not the initial investigating officer.”

“We should try to speak with him. There might be things he remembers—”

“
A
, she’s a she, not a he.
B
, Officer Gillian Todd passed away three years ago from breast cancer.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Fortunately the California Missing Persons Unit kept her up to speed with their investigation. What’s also fortunate is that this case had bothered Todd enough that she kept very detailed notes. Officer Ortiz is emailing them to me. It should be in my inbox within the hour.” He flipped through the notepad. “I think we should contact the California Missing Persons Unit in the morning and talk with them, as well.”

She plucked off the hairband circling her wrist and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. “Yeah, about that…
you
could contact them, but they can’t know I’m working with you.”

He raised his dark brows. “Piss someone off, did you?”

She held the tip of her thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Little bit. Maybe the FBI, too.”

“The FBI? And I’m just now hearing about this?”

“In my defense, how was I supposed to know they had an operation in place and the missing child I was interested in finding under surveillance?”

His lips tilted in a half grin. “You messed up their investigation.”

“Again, just a little bit.” When she’d first begun searching for her daughter, she’d thought she had a solid lead in the San Diego area. She’d even skipped town for four days and flown to California, hoping she was right. While there, instead of finding her baby girl, she’d stumbled on a child pornography ring. Thank God the local authorities and the FBI had intercepted her before she’d done serious damage to their case. She would have hated it if she’d been the reason the bastards abusing those kids had walked away on lesser charges. “They still ended up with more than enough evidence to convict and the missing girls were still returned home.”

“I thought you said you were looking for
one
missing child.”

She drew in a deep breath and met his eyes. “Yes, ours.”

He looked away and down at his notes. “Let’s see what Ortiz emails me and decide from there if I need to contact the California Missing Persons Unit. Moving on, the New Brunswick detective, Dean Stagliano, who ran the investigation on the third boy—”

“Max Weast,” she reminded him.

“Right. Anyway, the number you had in the file was Stagliano’s cell and I caught him at home. He’ll also email what he has from his investigation, but we probably won’t get it until tomorrow.”

“That’s a bummer,” she said, glancing at the map on the wall.

“Not really. Stagliano, like the others, was really bothered by this case. He had plenty of info to share.”

She straightened. “Do tell,” she said, her mood lightening.

“He also used the serial number to track the stroller—get this, to a Walmart in Worcester, Massachusetts.”

She quickly went online and looked up the driving distance. “That’s a three and a half hour drive.” Pushing away from the card table, she stood and retrieved the junk box. She found three green pushpins and placed one in Little Rock, the next in Phoenix and the last in Worcester. “What time is it?”

“Eight forty-five. Why?”

“Walters gave me the serial number from their stroller. I’m wondering if it’s too late to call Rachel and ask her if she could help us.”