Abduction (10 page)

Nancy
Darrington held her breath as a state trooper drove by on the opposite side of
the highway. She kept glancing in her mirrors to make sure he didn’t turn
around and come after her, but he disappeared from sight.

A few miles
later, she rolled her shoulders, easing the tension. The child in the car seat
murmured softly. Nancy stole another look in the rearview mirror. The child was
fast asleep.

The mirror
revealed dark circles under her eyes, tight lines around her mouth, and the
unfamiliar color of her hair. She’d dyed it again, of course. She couldn’t even
remember the color this time. It had been red, blond, and varying shades of
brunette. This time it was almost black, making her eyes look even more haunted
than before.

She rolled her
shoulders again as she spotted the Florida state line. Maybe she’d be safe
here. Maybe no one would look here for her and the child.

Maybes were
all she’d lived on for so very long. Maybe John wouldn’t kill her. Maybe he
wouldn’t beat her today. Maybe he’d work late and give her a few more minutes
of peace. Maybe she could get away. Maybe John wouldn’t find her. Maybe no one
would suspect that she wasn’t Alice Denton or Mary Deere, or a host of other
names she’d used to stay hidden.

Taking the
child had been a mistake. She knew that. A woman on her own would attract far
less attention.

One more
mistake to add to the sum total of her life.

#

“Emily?”

He turned
away from the child as the mother came down the aisle. He flashed a quick but
distracted smile in her direction and reached up to the top shelf to pull down
a box of crackers.

“Emily? Did
you find your cookies?”

“Here,
Mommy.”

He kept his
back to them, trying to subdue his disappointment and frustration. He had been
so close.

So close.
He wanted that little girl. He wanted Emily.

And he was
going to have her.

It was just going to take more planning, that’s
all. He’d watch. And wait. Another opportunity would arise soon enough.

Shoving the
box of crackers back on the shelf, he wandered through the store, keeping an
eye on his sweet little Emily. She skipped down aisles and made him smile. She
giggled at something her mother said and his heart lifted with joy.

So sweet,
his Emily. Look at her. That cute little pug nose and those chubby cheeks.
Those bright eyes so full of innocence and love. Perfection. Goodness.

And it
would be his. But not quite yet.

#

Jeff looked up
from his paper and, tilting his head, stared over the rim of his glasses.
“Rene? What has you pacing like a caged tiger?”

“I don’t
know,” Rene said, blowing out a deep breath as she dropped down onto the sofa.
“I can’t get that psychic out of my mind.” She looked over at Jeff. “The poor
girl believes she’s doing this for God. She has no clue she’s been deceived.”

“Do you think
she’s open to hearing truth?”

Rene shrugged
lightly. “I don’t know. She got real defensive when I told her that it wasn’t
God. I probably came on way too strong though. I do that sometimes, you know.”

Jeff’s lips
twitched with amusement. “Do you?”

She laughed.
“Like you haven’t noticed.” Her smile faded. “I
didn’t mean to come on that strong. Things were just starting to spin
out of control. I had to stop her before she got Karen into trouble
.”

“And now you
can’t get the girl out of your mind.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Rene playfully
glared at him. “I hate when you do that.”

“I know.” Jeff
pushed his glasses back up his nose and turned his attention to his reading.

“Okay! Okay.
I’ll go pray for her.”

“I never
thought you’d do otherwise, my sweet.”

Rene stuck out
her tongue at him as she marched past him on her way to their bedroom. He
reached out and smacked her bottom lightly. “I saw that.”

Rene giggled
like a little girl. “I meant for you to.”

#

He picked
up a box of rice and stared over the top of it as the mother pushed her cart up
next to the meat counter. “Emily, come with me, honey.”

“Where,
Mommy?”

“I have to
use the ladies’ room.”

“Awwww,
Mommy. I want to stay here.”

“You come
with me, Emily.” She took her daughter’s hand and pulled her through the double
doors into the back storage area where the public restrooms were located.

He smiled.
Oh, this couldn’t get more perfect. It was a sign. Emily was definitely meant
to be his. He put the box of rice back on the shelf and drifted toward the
restrooms.

#

JJ looked at his watch and then at the men
gathered around the conference table. He’d just finished forming two teams: one
work
ing on Gina’s abduction and the other following up the Denton lead
on the
Matthews case. He knew he was spreading
them thin, but he did
n’t have much choice.

The phone
rang. Matt reached over and picked it up. Less than a minute later, he slammed
it down and reached for his coat. “We have another missing little girl. Six
years old.”

JJ jumped up,
sending his chair flying backwards to crash into the filing cabinet behind it.
He didn’t even bother picking it up. “Not again. Please, not another little
girl. Gerry! Wayne! Forget Denton for now and come with us. I want this little
girl back home with her family tonight!”

chapter
8

Friday, April 14

Z
oe
strolled through the mall, watching shoppers, eyeing bargains, fingering soft
fabrics, buying nothing—all in an attempt to forget the haunting images of
three little faces that had been chasing her all morning. She saw it in the
newspaper headlines, then heard it on the radio, then watched it on the morning
talk show while she struggled through a light breakfast. Even in the mall,
televisions were tuned to some news show running the images over and over and
over.

Gina Sarentino. Jessica Matthews. Emily Terrance.
Zoe felt helpless once again to stop the abductions. Or to find the children.
She’d “seen” him stalking Emily for hours and couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
Now the child was gone. What good was this gift if she couldn’t save lives? Was
it a gift or a curse condemning her to a life in the shadows of evil, always
seeing the destruction and never able to stop it?

“Your gift
is not from God.”

Rene Taylor’s
words echoed through her mind. What could she possibly have meant by that? Of
course it was from God. Where else could it have come from? The world had
become enlightened
since the Middle Ages,
but obviously Rene Taylor wasn’t aware of that. Psychics were acceptable in
today’s society. People didn’t hunt them down, declare them witches, and burn
them at the stake anymore.

Zoe stopped in
front of a shoe store and eyed a pair of strappy sandals. They’d go perfectly
with that blue skirt her mother had given her for her birthday.

Determined to
buy them, she went inside the store and looked around for a salesperson. She
found two over by the children’s shoes, chatting away.

“And I’m
telling you they’re all fakes!” one said passionately as she straightened a
display.

“They are not! I went to a psychic once and she told
me all kinds of things she couldn’t possibly have known. She wasn’t a fake.”

The first girl
sniffed in derision. “Bull. She told you what you wanted to hear. They just
give you generalizations that anyone could twist to match their own
circumstances.”

“Well, what
about that psychic the police have called in to help them! She’s supposed to be
pretty good.”

“Hah! She
hasn’t done squat, has she? You are so gullible sometimes, Trish. Has she found
any of those missing children? No. And has she been able to tell the police
anything about the killer? No. And has she ever found a single child before
they were killed? No. So what good is she? A cadaver dog could do what she
does.”

Zoe flushed
hot as she backed away from the girls and slipped out of the store. The girl’s
words stung.
A cadaver dog could do what she does.

She drove home
with the words still ringing in her ears. A light changed from green to yellow
and Zoe slowed, easing to a stop as it turned red. Drumming her fingers on the
steering wheel, she glanced to her right.

It was a
billboard. And the message sent a cold shiver down her back.

I’m talking
to you. Love, God.

#

That night,
Matt Casto chewed without tasting what he was eating. All he could think about
was that poor mother collapsed on the grocery store floor, sobbing as she clung
to JJ’s shirt, begging them to find her little girl.

Emily
Terrance.

The scumbag
had taken her out of the grocery store without anyone noticing. He glanced at
his watch. More than twenty-four hours had passed, and they still didn’t have
one clue as to the child’s whereabouts.

“Matt?”

The security
tapes had been no help at all. The cheap cameras were set too far away to get a
clear look at anyone’s face. They were clearly installed to intimidate
shoplifters, not identify kidnappers. Once again, the kidnapper had been one
step ahead of them. He’d gone out the back door with the child, making sure
nothing would be caught on tape.

“Matt, are you
listening to me?”

Matt started,
nearly tipping over his glass and spilling his iced tea. He grabbed it,
steadied it, and stared sheepishly at Paula. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about
that little girl.”

Paula tilted
her head. “Maybe we should have just canceled tonight. Your mind is definitely
not
on dinner and a movie.”

Shaking his
head, he pushed his marinated chicken around on his plate. “I wanted to be
here. Get my mind off the case for a few hours. Clear my head a little.”

“But it’s not
working.”

“I know.” Matt
looked up, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”
Paula reached across the table and stroked his hand. “What you do is important,
Matt. Don’t apologize for being good at it.”

Tension flowed
out of him as her fingers stroked, her eyes forgave, and her smile warmed.
Yesterday he and JJ had gone up and down every aisle on what they knew was a
fool’s journey: to find evidence. They’d spent hours talking with store
employees, customers, and the mother.

They had gone over security tapes and witness
statements in between fielding calls from concerned or outraged citizens and
the press.

By the time
he’d pulled up in front of Paula’s apartment, he felt as wired as a druggie on
a bad high.

“Three little girls, Paula. And we don’t have a
single lead to go on.”

“What about
that psychic? Has she been any help?”

Matt shook his
head as he toyed a little more with his food. “Not really. Besides, JJ doesn’t
believe in her or her so-called powers, so he’s not giving her as much access
to everything as Harris told him to.”

“Won’t Harris
find out? He might talk to this woman and then JJ could be in trouble.”

“Harris hasn’t
even met Miss Shefford. I think he’s afraid to. No, he won’t talk to her and
find out anything. He’s leaving it all to JJ to handle. In the meantime, we’re
getting nowhere on the Matthews case either.”

“The missing
baby?”

“Yeah.” Matt speared
a green bean and stared at it. “JJ still thinks the parents were involved, but
we’ve got nothing so far to prove they were.”

“Do you think
they were? The parents? Do you really think they killed their own baby?”

He looked over at Paula. “Honestly? I’m not sure.
The Mat
thews woman has me confused. On the surface, she appears to be
devastated to have her child missing. On the other hand, something isn’t quite
right about her—like her circuits aren’t all wired with solid connections.”

“So you think
she may be capable of. . .what. . .killing her baby by accident and then crying
wolf?”

“Maybe.” He
rubbed his chin. “I can’t quite get a handle on this one, Paula, and it’s
driving me a bit nuts.”

“Hey! Look
who’s here!” Matt’s cousin Pete Gribbon leaned down and kissed Paula on the
cheek. She smiled up at him.

“Hey, Pete.
How’s Ginny?”

“She’s fine.
Took the boys to visit her mom for a few days, so I’m reduced to take-out or
eat-out.”

“Have a seat,”
Matt told him. “Eat with us.”

“You sure?”
Pete pulled out a chair but hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude. You two looked
pretty intense. I’m not interrupting something, am I? You know. . .wedding
plans, stuff like that?”

Paula rolled
her eyes and then pointed to the chair. “Sit, and bite your tongue. We were
just talking about the little girls who are being kidnapped.”

“Oh, yeah.”
The grin disappeared as he shook his head. “I’ve been hearing about that on the
news.” He pulled up a chair to the table and waved down a waiter. “There’s two
missing, right?”

“Three. We had
another one disappear yesterday.”

“Ouch. I
didn’t even realize you were on that case.” Pete leaned back as the waiter
appeared at his side. “I’ll have whatever they’re having and iced tea.”

“Marinated
chicken over wild rice with. . .”

Pete waved his
hand, cutting the waiter off. “That’s fine. I’m not hard to please.”