Finding Her Son

He grabbed the evidence box from the backseat and met her at the front door. “How long has it been on the market?”

“Not long.”

“You’re in a nice neighborhood. That should help it sell faster.”

“I hope so,” Emily said. “Let’s go into the dining room.”

They passed a kitchen, and Mitch noted a single cereal bowl and coffee cup on a drying towel. Nothing out of place. He glanced past a living room with a layer of dust on most of the wood surfaces. He hadn’t expected that. No magazines, no DVDs thrown about. The house didn’t really look lived in. He opened his mouth to pry as she slid open a walnut door. The words stuck in his throat when he entered the dining room.

“Whoa.” The walls had been converted to murder boards. Articles, photographs, dates had been attached, connected with arrows and lines, and adorned with notes.

Emily pointed to one side. “It’s a timeline of every event from the month before the hit-and-run until one month after. On the map, I’ve recorded every infant kidnapping in North America.”

Mitch rounded the dining room table and stepped up to the dozens of photographs tacked across the country. “You have found written on all of them. None of these kids are still missing.”

“Except Joshua.”

“And the small d in the corner of the photo?”

“Deceased,” she whispered.

Her words had gone so soft he could barely hear her. She probably hadn’t been able to write the word. Either way, the letter became a stark reminder of the worst that could happen.

He studied the third side of the room. Tips and newspaper clippings of missing children papered from ceiling to floor. On the final wall, a photo of Sister Kate’s refuge. She’d added two large questions. How many babies? Adoption?

No wonder what he’d seen of the rest of the house looked untouched. She spent all her time in this room, searching for clues to her son’s whereabouts. He couldn’t get over the detail. He disliked the tediousness of investigation, and this amazing woman had taught herself most of the techniques they’d covered in Mitch’s training at the police academy. She impressed him more and more with each passing moment.

“You’ve done a lot of work.”

“Not much else to do.” She sat in one of the hard cherry chairs, the only one that wasn’t perfectly aligned around the table.

“You have any help?”

“No one else seems inclined. Including your boss.”

Mitch didn’t blame her for the accusation in her tone. “What about your friends, family?”

“My brother’s stationed overseas. And friends…It’s been a while since I had any of those.”

Mitch let his surprise show. “You seem like a person people would latch onto—for movies, hiking, dinner.”

“I make most of my old friends…uncomfortable.”

She brought a self-conscious hand to her throat. Mitch had become accustomed to her husky voice, in fact he liked it, but it was another reminder. “Because of your son.”

“And this room. They said I was obsessed…the few who came over.” She clasped a locket resting on the outside of her turtleneck. “I remind them that nightmares can happen. Do happen.”

“You won’t give up until you find him.”

“Never. No matter what the Wentworths say or do.”

Mitch eyed a high chair pushed into the corner, a bib draped over the back. A small teddy bear with one blue eye and one brown eye sat in the seat right next to an empty wooden cradle. Unused for the past year. She faced the memory every day. This woman didn’t know where her child was. She didn’t know who took him. If she’d had anything to do with her husband’s death, she would know where to start.

If she were playing him, if this were an elaborate hoax, she deserved an Oscar. His job was to prove one theory or the other.

Placing the box with the few flimsy files on the floor, he sat beside her and stretched out his leg. “Let’s ignore the records for now and start from the beginning. What do you remember about that day?”

Emily’s expression fell, her vulnerability embedded in her eyes. Then she straightened her shoulders with an inner strength he recognized even after only a few conversations. While part of him wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, he couldn’t. He’d already crossed a line. He liked her. He believed her. He had to keep his distance. No matter how tempting he found her.

“I try to remember the details of that night a dozen times a day,” she said. “I don’t know exactly what happened. Everything seemed fine. We’d barely left the house on the way to Eric’s parents’. The road was slick, but nothing out of the ordinary. I remember the lights coming at us, and flashes, the sound of Joshua’s cry—” her husky voice caught “—a hooded figure, but not much else.”

She rubbed her eyes with one hand and clutched at her throat with the other. “By the time I regained consciousness, a week had passed. Eric was dead. His family had held the funeral, and they blamed me for his death and Joshua’s disappearance. More than that, they thought I had something to do with the crash.” She reached out a hand to Mitch. “I know they believe I cut myself with the glass, but I would never…You have to believe me.”

“Think, Emily,” he said. “We know from the paint scrapes that you and Eric were run off the road. The question is why. They took your baby. Was your son the target? Had you been threatened?”

She shook her head firmly. “Nothing like that. Look at the map. Infants aren’t taken very often, not by strangers. And most of the time they’re found within two weeks. There’s not a slew of stolen babies in any one geographical area. Not anywhere in the country. And certainly not here.”

Mitch rose and turned to the map. He ran his finger from pin to pin. “I know that. I don’t necessarily think your son was taken as part of a baby ring. This was personal. About your family.” He faced her. “You and your husband took out a life-insurance policy just before he died. Why?”

Emily stilled, her entire body tense with suspicion. “Wait a minute. How do you know about the insurance? And the paint? I just asked for your help today.”

Oh, boy. His first big slip. Well, one thing SWAT had taught him was to think on his feet. “Tanner mentioned a few things, but I have to admit, after last night, I looked into your case. I didn’t think the attempted hit-and-run was an accident. I still don’t.”

How long could he mix truth with lies and still remain credible? The question churned in Mitch’s gut.

“Ghost could’ve called someone. He threatened me. Did you ask him?”

Mitch let out a long, slow breath. “I’ve got some bad news about Ghost. He’s no longer in custody.”

“You let him go?” She rose from her seat, her eyes sparking with fury. “How could he make bail? He’ll disappear.” She crossed to Mitch, hands planted on her hips, toe-to-toe with him.

He hated to admit the truth. “That’s not quite what happened. He escaped. Before we could get prints or mug shots.”

“I have to talk to him.” Emily paced around the room. “He’s all I’ve got.”

“You can’t, Emily. That’s one reason Tanner gave me your case. I believe, and he agrees, that you’re in danger. He knew, given your history with the police department, you wouldn’t be receptive to protection.”

“He was right about that.” Emily glared at him. “Your boss should’ve told me the second I asked to see Ghost. He lied to me. And so did you.”

“We didn’t tell you everything,” Mitch acknowledged.

“How am I supposed to trust you? I thought you were on my side. That you believed me.”

“I do believe you. I don’t think you know where your son is, but Ghost threatened you, and I’m sure he’ll come after you. You need my help.”

Emily let out a slow breath and met his gaze. “If we’re going to work together, you can’t lie to me, Mitch. Or keep secrets. I can’t do that again.” She bit her lip and turned away.

“Wait a minute.” Mitch touched her shoulder. “What do you mean again?”

She whirled around and raised her chin in challenge. “It doesn’t matter. You want to know about the money. Eric and I bought the policy because of the baby. Joshua was only a month old, but Eric planned for the future, especially since he and his family…weren’t communicating.”

Mitch didn’t like the frozen expression on Emily’s face. He’d really blown it. “Your husband didn’t get along with his parents?”

“They’d been estranged for a while. Ever since, well, ever since we got engaged. I wasn’t quite the daughter-in-law they had in mind. Not blue-blooded enough, if you get my meaning. They made no secret of it, so Eric left the family business. He gave up everything for me.”

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