Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (47 page)

She shaded her eyes against the morning sun and looked to the street when a dark blue sedan approached. “This morning keeps getting better and better.”

Alex looked over his shoulder and groaned. “How’d we get stuck with Gibbs and Bart?”

Neil Gibbs and Freddy Bartalotti were her least favorite Forensics Investigators to work with on a crime scene. Although they were efficient and thorough, they took forever to write up their reports. She could have handled that, if they weren’t condescending jerks.

After the two men climbed out of the sedan, then retrieved their kits from the trunk, they approached her and Alex. “Anything out of the ordinary we need to know,” Gibbs greeted them.

“Good morning to you, too, Neil,” Alex said. “I’m doing okay, thanks for asking.”

Gibbs looked at her. “I feel sorry for you.”

“No shit,” Bart added.

“Anyway,” she said, not in the mood for Gibbs and Bart. They still had a few leads to follow up on the Henderson homicide. Now that the Hendersons’ son’s alibi had been blown to bits, it was probable the fifteen-year-old had killed his father and his mom was taking the fall for him. “The victim is in the kitchen. Gunshot to the chest.”

They followed the Forensics Investigators to the front door. Before they could enter, Gibbs turned to them. “Who’s been inside?”

“First officer on the scene, his partner and two EMS techs,” Alex answered.

“Plus the suspect and the two other women being held at the home,” she added.

Bart gave a curt nod. “We’ll let you know when you can come inside.”

“Megan and Audra would let us follow along.” Alex pulled out a pair of shoe covers from his back pocket. “We promise not to contaminate the crime scene.”

“Well, they’re not here,” Bart said, snapping on a latex glove. “They’re at another crime scene.”

Gibbs put his gloves on, as well and winced. “Yeah, and I have to admit, I’m glad we missed that call.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, curious as to what would have a seasoned forensics investigator squeamish.

“From what I understand,” Gibbs began, “a woman was found locked inside a storage unit.”

She wrinkled her nose. “With how hot it’s been, that’s got to be a bad one. Which homicide detectives are working it?”

“It’s not a homicide.”

“Wait, are you saying someone just locked the woman in the unit?”

Bart’s bushy eyebrows rose and he shook his head. “They didn’t just lock her in the unit, they kept her there until she had a baby, then left her for dead. At least that’s what Gibbs and I are thinking, based on what we heard about it.”

Dread slithered along her skin. She grabbed Bart’s arm before he could enter MacBride’s house. “And the baby?”

Bart shrugged, then his eyes softened with sympathy. Bart and Gibbs, hell, everyone who she worked with, knew about what happened to Sophia, but this wasn’t about her daughter.

“Look, Jess, I—”

“Just tell me,” she demanded. “Was the baby there?”

He shook his head. “Not that we’re aware.”

“Where’s the storage unit?”

“Over on East 122nd and Bowman.” Bart turned to Gibbs. “Do you remember the name of the place?”

“Frank’s E-Z Storage.”

She looked to Alex. “I—”

“Go,” he said, and tossed her his keys. “Let me know what you find out.”

Without a backward glance, she rushed to Alex’s car, pulling her cell phone off her belt. Once she was inside the unmarked Ford Inceptor, she called Dante. As the phone rang, she started the ignition, shifted into DRIVE, then made a quick U-turn. “C’mon,” she muttered. “Pick up, pick up—”

“Hey, we’re wrapping things up here,” Dante said, his tone quiet. “Can I call you back?”

“No.” She made a quick turn. “Sorry, but this is really important.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think Missy Schneider’s killer finally got her baby.”

*

Elton wouldn’t stop crying, and what little he ate came right out of him. Heather cradled him against her chest and kissed the dark curls on top of his head. He hadn’t slept well last night, either, and when he had fallen asleep, she’d stayed awake. When she’d gone to the library to research about babies born with a heroin addiction, one symptom of withdrawal was sleep apnea. Elton hadn’t shown any signs of it during the night, but she’d worried. He was incredibly tiny, and so unlike the chubby, healthy baby she’d envisioned.

If only he would eat more.

If only Wayne would be more supportive.

She looked to the closed bedroom door. Wayne had called off work today, which she’d been against. They needed to stick with their regular routine for another week and not raise any suspicions. Not that anyone knew about Chloe. Still, she wanted to stick around long enough for the girl to enter God’s kingdom, then she would go back to the storage unit and retrieve the fans, lanterns and coolers. If Wayne hadn’t been so angry with her last night, she would have done it then. But she’d worried he might follow her to the unit. If that had happened, Wayne might have made good on his threats and saved Chloe.

Wayne didn’t need to save Chloe. God would take care of her.

The L made a pass. She looked down and realized Elton had finally drifted to sleep. Praise the Lord. Now she could find out what Wayne had been up to all morning.

She set Elton on the center of the bed, then after making sure he was safe and comfortable, she left the room. Wayne stood in the kitchen eating a banana. When he saw her, he shook his head and gave her a look of disgust.

Tears welled in her eyes. This was supposed to be a happy, blessed time for them. Elton was supposed to unite them and make them a family. Only Wayne wanted nothing to do with their baby.

Unable to stomach the anger and revulsion in Wayne’s eyes, she turned away. When she saw the boxes in the living room, her temper spiked. “What’s all of this?” She quickly moved toward the boxes and saw that several had already been filled with their things.

“We’re leaving tonight.”

She turned and gaped at him. “Tonight?” They couldn’t leave. She needed to make sure Chloe had passed along. More importantly, she needed to take anything in the storage unit that had her fingerprints on it. While she’d never been arrested and her fingerprints weren’t on file anywhere, she’d watched enough true crime shows with Wayne to know to cover her tracks. “I don’t think it’s safe for Elton to travel just yet.”

“I don’t care.”

“Wayne,” she gasped. What had happened to her kind, loving husband? “How could you say that about our son?”

“He’s not
ours
and he belongs in a hospital. If you love him as much as you claim, you’ll do the right thing and get him medical treatment.”

“Elton is our child. And don’t you dare question my love for him.” She pressed her hands to her hips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if he has to go to the hospital? What then?” he asked. “Again, how are you going to explain that the baby is going through withdrawal when you don’t do drugs? How are you going to prove he’s your son without a birth certificate? Do you think God is going to miraculously drop one from the sky?”

Wayne’s blasphemy broke her heart. How was it that he’d strayed so far from God? She drew in a deep breath and composed her disappointment and temper. “Of course I don’t expect that, but I do expect you to show respect for God, me and our baby. As for the birth certificate, midwives can submit them.”

His eyebrows rose. “And where do you plan to find a midwife who will draw up a false birth certificate?”

“I’m sure I can find one. With a little bribing, I guarantee I can get it within a week.”

“And what if this midwife blackmails you for money? Or what if she figures out what you’ve done and, not wanting to be an accomplice to murder, she goes to the police?”

The baby wasn’t supposed to come as early as he had, and with little sleep and her mind focused on Elton’s health, she honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I have to believe that it will all work out.”

“Your blind faith is going to get us arrested.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re naïve, but not stupid. Think about it. You can’t have that child growing up without being in the system. He needs—”

“Our love,” she said, and pointed a finger at him.

“Love’s not going to get him a social security number.”

With the help of a midwife, it would. Her mind drifted to John 3:16…

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.

She loved her baby enough to ensure that whatever midwife she found could never go to the police. She wasn’t a murderer, but she would sacrifice a life to give her baby, her gift from God, a proper future.

“Let me worry about that,” she said.

“I’m worried,” he shouted, and poked his thumb against his chest. “We can’t stay here. I don’t know what you did to that baby’s mother, but when she’s found, the police are going to start looking for answers.”

“She was a drug addict and a filthy whore. The police aren’t going to care about someone like her. They’re too worried about the rich—”

“What did you say?” he asked, his tone low and threatening. “The mother’s a prostitute?” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Do you even realize what this means?”

“Yes. That no one will care what happens—”

“They
will
care, but I’m talking about the baby you love
so
much. Do you know who his father is?”

“No. But Elton’s clearly white, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not, damn it. I don’t care about that. Hell, I told you we should adopt from a foreign country years ago. I’m talking about what else the baby might have besides a drug addiction. What if the mother has an STD?”

“I don’t know what that means,” she responded, but didn’t remind Wayne there was no reason to cuss. He was already angry enough.

“Of course you don’t. Sexually Transmitted Disease.” He pointed to the bedroom, where Elton slept. “That baby could be sicker than you think. You might love him, but by denying him medical care, you’re not showing him that love.”

Oh, dear Lord, she hadn’t considered any of this. Fear of harming her baby settled deep in her belly. The urge to pray for guidance made her lightheaded. “I need to check on Elton,” she said, and walked toward the bedroom.

Wayne blocked her path. “You need to do right by that child. Please, Dimples,” he said, his eyes imploring.

She sidestepped him and went into the bedroom. Once there, she checked on Elton. Thankfully, he was still fast asleep. After the L made a noisy pass, she dropped to her knees, then rested her head against the bed.

And prayed.

*

Dante stood by the hospital vending machine, holding a Diet Coke and waiting for Jessica to finish talking to the two detectives handling the Jane Doe investigation. When he’d started his day, he’d been prepared to visit at least a dozen storage companies with Lola, searching for any link to their pawn shop case. But he hadn’t planned on going into a storage unit where a pregnant woman had been held hostage.

The crime scene at Missy Schneider’s house had been bad, but the one he viewed today was worse. According to the ME who’d performed Missy’s autopsy, when Missy had been struck on the head, she’d likely sustained irreversible brain damage before the killer had given her a C-section. Unfortunately, the Jane Doe found in the storage unit had to have been well aware of what was being done to her, and he couldn’t begin to imagine the young girl’s fear. He didn’t want to.

His cell phone rang. After checking the caller ID, he answered Lola’s call.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Not good. We have an unconscious Jane Doe, who the doctor believes delivered a baby within the past twelve to eighteen hours, and no baby.”

“Oh, my God. Is she going to be okay?”

“The doctors think so. She’s badly dehydrated and has a severe infection. Her fever is high and they’re worried about septic shock.”

“That’s horrible.”

What had been done to the girl went beyond horrible. By the time Lola had dropped him off at the storage facility, the girl had already been removed and taken to the hospital. But he’d seen the crime scene photos. Their Jane Doe had been bound and gagged, and forced to lay in her blood and filth. She’d been stripped of her child and left for dead. When he’d arrived at the scene, the unit had been open for almost an hour. Even with fresh air moving through the room, the heat had been unbearable and he’d almost gagged on the fetid odor.

“I know,” he said, keeping those details to himself. Later, if Lola wanted to know what they’d found in the unit, he’d tell her. For now, he’d rather not talk about it.

“Who found her?”

“A guy going to put some things into a unit he rents next to the one where Jane Doe was discovered. The smell coming out of the unit was so bad, he worried it would affect his things, so he got hold of the storage facility’s owner, who in turn cut the padlock, saw the girl, then contacted the police.”

“Lucky break. With how hot it’s supposed to be today, that girl couldn’t have survived.”