A Shred of Evidence (20 page)

Investigator Al Backus came out the front door and stood next to him. “Okay, Chief. Agent Connors and I briefed the Hamiltons. They won’t say anything they shouldn’t.”

“Thanks. I know Ross trusts you.”

“Wish I could say I trusted him.” Al looked down where the microphones were being set up. “I hate this kind of dog-and-pony show. We’ve seen it all before.”

“The Hamiltons deserve to have their say in front of the cameras.”

“Think anyone’s going to believe them?”

“Doesn’t matter, Al. This has as much to do with the FBI’s plan to talk about RISK as it does the Hamiltons.”

“Come on, you don’t really believe some obscure group was organized enough to snatch the Hamilton girl forty-eight hours after the molestation thing hit the fan?”

“Regardless, Bryce thinks that by exposing
RISK’S
activities while public sentiment is high, we stand a good chance of someone fingering the ringleader.”

Backus put his hands in his pockets. “Radicals like that would gladly go to jail before selling out the group or handing over a child they think needs protecting.”

“It’s Bryce’s call, not mine.”

“We’re gonna look pretty stupid if it turns out Ross’s been guilty all along.”

“Yep. But I’d rather be criticized for looking stupid than acting stupid. We aren’t even close to being able to nail him for this.”

Will saw the door swing open and Bryce Moore walking toward them. “Al, give me a couple minutes with Bryce and then bring the Hamiltons out.”

“All right. Think I’ll go take some Maalox first so I won’t lose my lunch when the tears start to roll.”

Bryce nodded at Al as they passed each other, and then went and stood next to Will. “Amazing how fast the troops rally, isn’t it?”

“There’s a lot of media, all right. Decided what you’re going to say?”

“Pretty much,” Bryce said. “I’m convinced it’s a timely move. Exposing the RISK movement is bound to yield information.”

“That’s one perspective. What if it backfires? People could empathize with this group if they actually believe it’s protecting kids from abuse. I mean, there’re plenty of angry protestors at the Hamiltons’ house who would probably applaud the actions of RISK.”

“Then it’s my job to make them see a bigger picture.”

Julie Hamilton held tightly to Ross’s arm and kept her eyes down as she descended the steps behind Special Agent Bryce Moore and approached the microphones. She glanced out into the crowd, her heart beating wildly, and hoped her legs would hold her up long enough to plead for her daughter’s return. She was grateful when Moore stepped up to the microphone and blocked her view.

“I’m FBI Special Agent Bryce Moore, the agent in charge of this case. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton will each address the media, but have been instructed not to answer questions since the
investigation is ongoing.” He stepped aside and motioned for Julie and Ross to come forward.

Julie stood trembling, her eyes moving across a sea of faces and flashing cameras on the other side of a barricade. “I—I’m Sarah Beth Hamilton’s mother. And I love my daughter very much. Somebody out there knows where she is, or what has—” Julie paused to gather her composure. She could do this. She had to do this. “Or what has happened to her. Please, tell the FBI what you know or even what you
think
you know. Help them bring my little girl home and stop this nightmare.” Julie wiped a tear from her cheek. “Most of you are parents. You know what it is to love a child.
Please
… please help us get our daughter back.” Julie turned and buried herself in Ross’s embrace.

He held her for a moment, then turned and looked out at the media. “I can’t tell you how much I love my daughter.” Ross’s chin quivered and so did his voice. “I’d trade my life for hers if I could. Please, if you know something—
anything
—tell the police or the FBI. Help us end this torment,
and
Sarah Beth’s.” Ross stood for several seconds without saying anything, and then continued. “Whoever has my little girl, please don’t hurt her … let her go … it’s never too late to do the right thing.” Ross stepped away from the microphone, his shaking hand holding tightly to Julie’s.

Bryce Moore stepped up to the microphone again.

“As you know, the FBI is working closely with the Seaport police department and the county sheriff’s department in the search for Sarah Beth Hamilton. We have concurrently agreed to reveal new information that would heighten public awareness and might possibly lead to a break in this case.

“In the past few months, the FBI has become increasingly aware of a covert vigilante group that uses the acronym RISK, which stands for Rapid Intervention to Safeguard Kids. These extremists kidnap children from homes where abuse has been alleged—and they do so without waiting for proof, without
regard for the law, and without giving the agencies already in place a chance to intervene on behalf of these children.

“By all indications, RISK is well-connected and is able to give the children they abduct new identities and place them with new families very quickly.

“We believe RISK safe houses exist throughout the state of Florida and into neighboring states. Make no mistake: this underground operation is illegal. It is nothing more than vigilantism. And it operates in direct opposition to a system already in place that seeks to counsel, reconcile, and restore families whenever it’s in the best interest of the child.

“Persons assuming illegal custody of these children will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. And anyone found to be withholding information that would lead to the location of safe houses or the people involved in this group will be prosecuted accordingly.

“If you have information about this group, the location of safe houses, or someone who may have illegally adopted one of these children, we urge you to contact the FBI or your local law enforcement agency. That’s all I’m prepared to say at this time.”

Moore stepped away from the microphone and ushered Julie and Ross up the steps and in the side door of city hall.

Julie walked into the room where she and Ross had been schooled on what would be prudent to say or not say and collapsed in a chair.

“You all right?” Ross said.

“No, but I will be.”

Ross sat in the chair next to hers. “I’m not giving up hope that Sarah Beth will be returned to us.”

“I wish I had your confidence. At least now the public has heard from us. There’s no way people can believe we had anything to do with her disappearance.”

“She’s coming back to us, Julie. I feel it in my gut.”

Julie blinked an awful image from her mind and clutched Ross’s hand as if to grasp the hope she so desperately wanted to feel.

Investigator Al Backus walked over to them. “How’re you holding up?”

“We should’ve spoken out sooner,” Ross said. “We should’ve listened to our instincts instead of letting you think for us.”

“It didn’t seem wise to put you in front of a microphone when public sentiment was so negative toward you.”

“It’s still negative. I don’t care anymore. I know I’m not guilty of doing anything wrong, and I’m fighting back!”

Backus put his hand on Ross’s shoulder, and Ross pushed it off. “Stop trying to be my friend and just find my daughter!”

Backus’s eyes moved to Julie. “It’s been a trying day for both of you. Go home and get some rest.”

“Rest?” Julie said. “I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

“Look, I know how you feel—”

“You
know?”
Julie felt the heat radiating from her face. “When’s the last time
your
daughter was ripped away from you—when all you could do was wait helplessly, trying not to think about the horrific and despicable things that could be happening to her? When’s the last time someone accused you of molesting and killing the person you love most in the whole world? With all due respect, Investigator Backus, you don’t know
anything
about how we feel!”

Police Chief Seevers walked over and whispered something to Backus.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Backus said, “I need to go take care of something.”

Julie waited until Backus was gone and looked up at Chief Seevers. “I’m sorry. I just feel so angry at the way he seems to patronize us.”

“Investigator Backus is a good man. He was trying to help.”

“The only thing that’s going to help is getting Sarah Beth back alive.”

Ellen Jones listened to the news anchor give a lengthy spin on what the Hamiltons had said to the media, then put the TV on mute, disturbed at how broken Julie and Ross had looked.

Ellen hadn’t thought any more about RISK since Chief Seevers mentioned it during his impromptu questioning of her. But after hearing the FBI’s explanation, how could she not consider the group a viable suspect in Sarah Beth’s disappearance?

Lord, show the authorities how to proceed. Put Your arms of love around Ross and Julie. Comfort them and
give
them peace
.

Guy came in the living room and stood staring at her. “I thought you were going to change? Gordy’s is going to fill up fast on a Friday night. You know how I hate waiting.”

“Sorry, I lost track of time. Ross and Julie Hamilton just spoke to the media.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I didn’t want to miss any of it. They’re going to show it again on the news tonight.”

“Good. So what did you think?”

Ellen sighed. “I’m beginning to wonder if anything I
think
is even worth repeating.”

G
ordy Jameson was working on next week’s staffing schedule, suddenly aware of voices and dishes clanking. He glanced at his watch: 5:30! Where had the time gone? He put on his name tag and hurried toward his office door and almost ran headlong into Will Seevers.

“Got a minute?” Will said.

“Yeah, sure. I was just about to hit the floor runnin’.” Gordy backed out of the doorway and let Will come in, instantly aware of the aroma of the take out order Will held in a sack. “What’s up?”

“Did you happen to hear the Hamiltons’ statement to the media?”

“No. When was it?”

“About forty-five minutes ago. It’ll be on the eleven o’clock news. I’m anxious to get your reaction.”

“Yeah, okay. You wanna give me a hint what it is you’re after?”

“No. I just want you to watch and then give me a call.”

Gordy folded his arms, an eyebrow raised. “Guess that means I’ll have to give Margaret an answer about comin’ to dinner on Sunday.”

Will smiled. “That, too. I need to scoot. She’ll flip if this food gets cold before I get home.”

Gordy followed Will out of his office and through the dining room to the front entrance, pleased to see Ellen Jones waiting to be seated.

“Will, don’t say anything to Margaret,” Gordy said.

“Okay, call me after the news.”

Gordy slapped Will on the back, and then walked over and extended his hand to Ellen, who introduced him to her husband.

“My wife hasn’t stopped talking about this place since she had lunch here,” Guy said.

Gordy smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. I’d like to offer each of you a cup of clam chowder with your meal—just my way of sayin’ I appreciate your business.”

Weezie came over with a bright smile and menus in hand. “Right this way, folks.”

Ellen followed Weezie to a corner table, and Guy held the back of her chair until she was seated comfortably, then walked around and sat across from her.

“I’m glad Chief Seevers didn’t see us,” Ellen said. “I’m still embarrassed about being run off the beach, not to mention my little soapbox incident.”

“I’m sure he’s got more important things to think about.” Guy picked up his menu and opened it. “What are you staring at?”

“Gordy reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who it is.”

“A king-sized hippie with an AARP card?”

“Be serious.”

“He doesn’t remind me of anyone, honey. He seems very nice—friendly and accommodating. And considering his age, a little on the edge for letting the back of his hair grow down over his collar.”

“I like it. I think it suits him.”