Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (28 page)

Although she was a cop, Jessica remembered all too well that sense of vulnerability during her pregnancy. During those forty weeks, she’d allowed her mind to run through situations where she would have to protect herself and her unborn child. None of those imaginary situations had ended well. “Completely understandable,” she said. “And even though we think the male could have come through the back, DCI doesn’t think a second person was involved with the murder.”

“What do
you
think?” Phil asked.

Dante looked to her. “We agreed.”

“Missy’s blood was everywhere,” she explained. “Smeared on drawers and cupboard handles, on the countertop…in the knife drawer, as if she was searching for something.”

“A carving knife.” Dante grimaced. “DCI found one next to Missy’s body. By all accounts, it looks like the knife was one of the tools used to cut the baby from Missy.”

“One of the tools?”

“The ME needs to do a full autopsy, but after he examined the body at the scene, he thought it appeared as if a small scalpel was used first. Forensics didn’t find one at the crime scene, but they did find a dissecting pin.”

“A dissecting pin?” Phil echoed.

“Like kids in high school might use when they’re dissecting a frog,” Jessica explained. “We’ll know more once DCI further investigates, but if the killer did bring medical instruments with her, she’d gone there with the intent to take the baby. This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. The ME also placed a tentative time of death between ten in the morning and four in the afternoon. Missy spoke to her doctor’s office around eleven and also placed a call to her mother at twelve-fifteen.”

“And the farmer said he saw a pickup truck leaving her driveway around two-thirty,” Dante supplied. “So, we’re thinking Missy was murdered between twelve-fifteen and two-thirty.”

Jessica nodded. “That’s plenty of time for the killer to knock out Missy, then give her a C-section.”

“But you think the killer worked alone,” Phil said, sounding disappointed. “Elton, I mean, Quinn described his dad’s truck. I can’t shake the coincidence that the dad drives a grey pickup and that the farmer saw a similar truck leaving the crime scene.”

“We can’t, either. Still, the bloody handprints and smears left all over the kitchen look like they came from the same person. Because those handprints are smaller, we agree with DCI and think the killer is a woman.”

“Wait, you said they didn’t find any fingerprints.”

“They didn’t,” Dante responded. “The handprints were there, but the killer was likely wearing gloves when she left them behind. But just because the evidence is pointing at one person being in the room, it doesn’t mean two weren’t involved. It could be that the male waited in the truck.”

“But DCI doesn’t think so,” Phil said.

Jessica didn’t want the serial kidnappers linked to Missy Schneider’s murder, because that would mean they had escalated. And they’d left without what they’d come for. A newborn baby. “We gave DCI everything we have on our investigation. I don’t think they’re disregarding it, but I do think they’re concentrating on Missy first.”

“Well,
I
think the kidnappers are behind this,” Phil said, his voice lowering with anger. “It makes sense. They either lived or bought the stroller in St. Joseph, Missouri, dropped Quinn in Lamoni, then stopped in Montour for their next baby. The big question is, where are they heading now? You two told me where the other three boys were taken from, and those were big cities. Wouldn’t that be the next logical step for them since they left Missy Schneider’s empty handed? They’re heading east. What’s the next major city on the map?”

Dante looked at her. “Chicago.”

A chill prickled her skin.

“What better place to get lost and find their next victim,” Phil said, then let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. This case has me… I’m pissed off about it. When I think about how the Joyces lost two years with their son, how Missy Schneider was killed for her baby…it makes me sick and I don’t want Missy’s case to go cold. I know I’m jumping to conclusions and—”

“I don’t think you are,” she said. “Is it possible they’re heading for Chicago or are already here? Yes. But could they have driven south and gone to Springfield or St. Louis, or north to Madison or Green Bay? Other than making their home near a state’s border, they don’t have a pattern.”

“I know and you’re right,” Phil responded with another sigh. “I just want these people found.”

“We do, too,” Dante said. “Are you still going to work with St. Joseph PD and check out local builders?”

“Absolutely. Contractors and handyman services, too.”

“Good. In the meantime, CORE is going to see if Walmart will give us the exact time the stroller in their St. Joseph store was purchased. If we have that, and they let us view the store’s surveillance cameras, maybe we’ll get our first look at the kidnappers.”

“I hope so. I’d love to see their faces plastered across the country. Anyway, I’ll let you know what I find out from St. Joseph.”

“And you’ll let us know how things go with the Joyces, right?” she asked. She really wished she could be there for the reunion. She was so happy for the family, and after viewing the dead bodies of Missy Schneider and her baby, she could use a bit of happiness to lessen the horror.

After promising to call them in the morning, Phil disconnected the call.

“Do you think Phil might be right?” Dante asked. “That maybe the kidnappers are making Chicago their next home?”

She shook her head. “It’s so hard to say. What concerns me is their next victim. If this couple killed Missy, will they go back to abducting four to six-month-olds, or will they try for another newborn?”

“If they killed Missy, can you imagine their disappointment when they found that the baby had already died?” He picked up her glass from the table and swallowed down more than half the wine. “That could make them desperate for another,” he said, then finished off the rest of the contents. “Sorry.” He held up the empty glass.

She gave him a smile and touched his shoulders. “That’s okay, I was about to do the same thing.” After taking the glass from him, she walked into the kitchen for a refill. “You’re right. They could be desperate. What’s scarier is now they know they can successfully perform a C-section. If the baby hadn’t died—” She stopped and turned. “I don’t want to think about it. Actually, I’d like to shut off the investigation for the rest of the night.”

He took the glass from her hand and gave her a kiss. “I was hoping you would. Until we hear back from DCI and Walmart, there’s not a whole lot we can do right now.”

“You could make me dinner,” she suggested, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“And what will you be doing?”

“Watching you.”

“You left your laptop in my car. I brought it inside, if you want to go through Rachel’s program.”

There hadn’t been a single day that she hadn’t checked it, hoping to find one tiny link that could possibly lead them to their daughter. Although tempted to take Dante up on the offer and do a quick search while he made dinner, she didn’t want to. Not this evening. Those searches always left her angry and disappointed. And while what had happened to Missy Schneider evoked those same feelings, tonight was for celebrating. The Lamoni boy now had a
real
name and in less than six hours he’d meet his
real
parents.

More importantly, she was home.

As Dante reheated the lasagna and made salads, they drank wine and talked. Later, they sat out back beneath the stars and talked some more. They caught up on life, on each other’s families, but never once discussed their own loss or the investigation. Which was good. Very good. She hadn’t realized how much she’d allowed the missing children cases to consume her.

She set her empty glass on the small table between their chaise lounge chairs. The katydids sang. The moon hung like a parenthesis in the darkened sky. She stared at the stars, at a few planes likely heading for O’Hare International Airport and sank deeper into the lounge chair. Relaxed and slightly buzzed, she couldn’t lie, even to herself. She’d known all along that she was obsessed with finding her daughter. Glancing to Dante, catching his profile, she couldn’t help smiling. He was so handsome, and she really loved that he’d let his hair grow, along with his beard. She loved him clean cut, too, but thinking back to what they’d done together at the hotel… Something about his appearance screamed dirty, hot sex.

Desire licked at her and coiled through her belly. The wine had helped relax her, being outside of the house had, too. For the first time in over three years they would sleep in their bedroom together. The thought had her turned on and nervous. This was her home. Upstairs was their bed. A big king-sized bed. She had many wonderful memories of that bed and room, only down the hall from it was their daughter’s bedroom.

She been upstairs only one time since she’d left him. If he’d changed the paint colors, or the décor in the guest and master bath or bedrooms since then, she wouldn’t know. Dante had great taste, so if he had made changes, she didn’t care. As for her daughter’s room? That was one part of the house that hadn’t and couldn’t be changed. She wasn’t ready to lose those bittersweet memories, and if they renovated the room, that meant they were giving up on ever finding their daughter. A huge part of her wanted to look inside the room, but tonight wasn’t about her daughter. Tonight was about reconnecting with her husband.

He also set his empty glass on the table next to hers, then reached for her hand. “It’s getting late and we both have to work in the morning.”

Anxiety mingled with her desire. Which was ridiculous. This was her husband and her house. She didn’t even have to look at the baby’s bedroom door. Determined to prove to herself that she could stay here without having a panic attack, and to assure Dante that she most certainly wanted to make their marriage work, she rose from the chaise lounge. “Then I guess we better go to bed.”

When he stood, he pulled her to him and hugged her. Not with the sexual urgency he’d showed last night, he simply held her. “I love that I can do this again,” he said, hugging her tighter. “There’ve been so many times I’ve wanted to hold you, but I was always afraid you’d push me away.”

“I would have. But now that I’m here and in your arms, I’m having a hard time remembering why.”

His chest rumbled as he released a slight chuckle. “I’m good with that.” He kissed the top of her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Never losing contact with him, she snagged the glasses off the table and let him lead her inside. After putting them in the sink, they made their way to the second level. At the top of the landing was a small nook that housed built in shelving original to the house. More pictures of their small family, their parents, along with their extended family sat on the shelves. Looking at the photographs, she realized how much she missed being surrounded by her family. She hadn’t gone off the grid and completely disappeared from their lives, but she’d shut everyone out and had rarely made contact. Her family had suffered the loss, as well, and instead of going to them, sharing their grief and hers, she’d decided it best to hide. Her mental health had demanded it. Only, thinking back, she’d been just as selfish to her family as she had to Dante. They’d needed her to deal with their loss and she hadn’t been there for any of them.

She looked away from the pictures and to the walls in the hallway. Several of her watercolors hung there, too. One of the paintings, Dante’s old IROC-Z Camaro, she’d made for him for their fifth wedding anniversary. The other two were of her grandparents’ farm. Looking at them now, she’d forgotten she had added crows to the paintings. Odd, she’d never recognized her fixation with the crows her grandfather had hated and her grandmother had respected. “What happened to the painting I did of our house?” she asked, remembering that the IROC-Z painting used to hang in the guest room.

“It’s still here, but I switched it out with this one,” he said, pointing to the cherry red Camaro.

“Why’d you move it?”

Still staring at the painting of the car, he said, “I see the house all the time. When I look at this painting, I think about how, at one time, you loved me enough to spend hours making this for me.” He glanced to her. “There’ve been days when I stand here, or in front of the one of me and Sophia in the dining room, and take myself back in time, to when we were good.”

His admission brought tears to her eyes. She wished she could turn back the clock and have handled their loss differently. Knowing how much she’d hurt him, that he’d had to turn to paintings to remind him of the love she’d denied him for so long, made her heart ache. But standing in the hallway of her house, with her husband, made her realize that those good times they’d had, could happen again.

He brushed a tear from her cheek. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” She leaned into him and let him hold her. “I’m upset with myself.”

“Don’t be.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about how many years I’ve wasted or how much I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize anymore. We hurt each other, Jess. Trust me, sometimes I think about how I treated you and the things I’d said and I— I’m the one who’s sorry.”

For him to apologize to her was a joke. If only he knew how much she’d resented him for being stronger than her. That sometimes just looking in his eyes and seeing their daughter’s was unbearable.