She nodded slowly. “See? I don’t have any faith in what you do,” she said. “I’ve seen too many charlatans. Somebody took my mother to the cleaners and burned her for over fifty thousand dollars,” she said quietly, her gaze intent as she studied him. “At no point in time did that charlatan give her anything of value. What he gave my mother was the tiny glimmer of hope for what was an unreasonable expectation to begin with—the chance to contact my missing brother in the afterlife.”
He just nodded. “There is a segment of society,” he said, his voice just as quiet as hers, “who prey on the hopes, fears, and heartaches of others.”
“She ended up marrying him, and, by the time he died, the inheritance and trust fund her father had left was completely gone. She is still alive and in a very sad state right now,” she said. “So you should believe me when I tell you that I want you to be the charlatan, so I can throw your ass in the slammer.”
“Got it,” he said, his lips quirking but his gaze was steady.
“The fact of the matter is,” she said, “that you keep squirreling around in my cases, which is suspicious as hell. Rest assured, if I find you’ve overstepped,” she said, “I will do exactly as promised.”
He believed her. “So, I might be squirreling around in your cases,” he said, “but I don’t have the slightest idea why the information I’m getting has anything to do with them,” he said. “If I could find a way to get out of having this strange information, I would.”
She looked at him for a long moment and then gave a quick nod. “I think I believe you, but the thing is, I don’t have any way to justify these numbers.” She held up her cell phone and the string of numbers he’d texted her. He stared at them for a long moment. “I can’t really tell you how I got them either. I didn’t even know where you were at the time.”
“I know,” she said. “I didn’t tell anyone where my partner and I were going, and that’s the part I really struggle with.”
“Maybe it’s more than either of us can imagine,” he said.
“Maybe.”
“And maybe it’s something completely unrelated to your cases and just some weird connection we have.”
“I don’t know.” She spun on her heels and headed to the elevator.
“Detective, you look tired,” he said.
She froze, then turned to look at him. “It’s hard to sleep when I know children are being abused, and I can’t stop it.”
“Is there something you can do about it?”
“I have to hope there is,” she said sorrowfully. “Otherwise, what am I doing with my life?” Her gaze deepened, as she stared at him. “Maybe that’s a question you should ask yourself,” she said. “What are you doing with your life?”
And, with that, she was gone.
He leaned back against the couch again and stared out the window.Trying to make amends. Not so much for his actions but for all those who had suffered too. Giving to those who no longer believed that gifts,… hope,… happiness were possible any longer. That’s what he was doing. He’d been hoping against hope that what he was doing was enough. But based on what was happening right now, he wasn’t.
He still didn’t understand his connection to her or her cases because that was the thing. They wereher cases—not these people—that he was connecting to. It was all about his connection to her cases, which ultimately meant his connection to her. And that was something he didn’t want at all. The last thing he needed was a cop in his life. Hell, the last thing he needed was anybody in his world, particularly somebody who would want something from him. But a cop, given his own lifestyle? Well, that was probably the worst-case scenario he could imagine yet.
Cursing, he poured another shot and threw back the whiskey, feeling the burn all the way. His grandmother’s voice came to him again.You can run, but you can’t hide.
*
Richmond. Everything wasdone in secret on the dark web. Anonymously. But where in Richmond? That was the secret. His group didn’t discuss addresses; they certainly didn’t exchange phone numbers. Anonymously online. Ken had mentioned a couple spots he used to hang out in. Spots that he himself had recognized. What he was doing now was finding some similar details from Nico’s past conversations. Anything, any message, any sign.
He went through everything that he ever had gotten from Nico. A couple photos of children. He kept trying to see locations, landmarks. One showed a McDonald’s, so he quickly mapped out all the McDonald’s locations in the Richmond area, trying to find one from that angle. He made one trip to Richmond and realized just how useless that would be, without more directions, more landmarks, more details.
If he could find that little girl, why should he pay money? Especially that kind of money? Nico shouldn’t have been so damn greedy. It’s not like he himself had any money. He used to have a lot of it but, well, not any longer. And that was pissing him off more and more every day. He had to get a little sneakier, a little more ingenious, on how to get through his month.
On his way back from Richmond, empty-handed, he pounded on the steering wheel. He parked at a coffee shop to use their Wi-Fi and quickly sent a message online, asking Nico if he’d reconsider. When there was no answer, he frowned. Then, getting a little trickier, he sent another message, saying he wanted proof of life, somewhere outside.Send me a picture of her at a park or someplace I can identify and know you didn’t Photoshop her in a scene.
Then he tossed his phone on the passenger seat and, grinning, made his way back home.
The thought of having a little girl who had already been groomed and made ready for him had him salivating. He felt himself getting hard just walking to his apartment. He made a dash in half the time he normally did. And, once inside, instead of calming down, his bloodlust grew. Swearing, but still anticipating, he headed into the shower to take care of himself. As he ejaculated all over the shower wall, he groaned. If it wasn’t that little girl, it had to be the little boy Leonard. Only he didn’t know how to find that one, and that pissed him off too. He had to do something, and he had to do it soon.
Chapter 17
Tuesday Morning
“Finding the safein our DB’s apartment is a huge break. The search for Leonard will never be called off,” Colby said in the next morning’s meeting, his tone quiet. “But now a week later, we are the hell a long way past the first forty-eight hours, and you all know what that means.” The atmosphere was somber, silent, because everybody in that room knew exactly what it meant. “We are still looking obviously, and the Amber Alerts are out, but we have no vehicle, and we have no idea where or how. Somewhere from the school on the way home. If there is any connection from Leonard to that DB, let’s find it—and fast.”