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“Yeah,” Blanco said. “Sometimes they’ll slip up and host the site on an IPS with other sites they own. A lot of times they’ll try for a PO box or some such. But again, those just cause delays. They’re hurdles we can jump over.” He checked his notes. “The name on the account and the address are fake. Looks like he paid a year in advance, possibly with a Visa prepaid money card, which is untraceable when purchased with cash. We’re still working on that. He’s apparently using a CMS, allowing him to add content from anywhere, and is most likely using public terminals to access the site.”

“And,” Grayson said, “there’s no e-mail on this Web site.”

“Right. Sometimes these guys will use disposable, untraceable e-mail accounts, where they keep rotating and dumping. A lot of times we can get them on that if they slip up in any of the steps getting those, but there is nothing on the Web site. Whoever this is, they don’t want anyone contacting them.”

“So where are we at?” Frank asked.

“Well, first we thought the guy, or perhaps lady, was running a Freenet node. Won’t go into all that, but basically that’s where you’ll find a lot of these child porn guys going. We’re still confirming, but it looks like what he’s done is selected a registrar and host that is out of our jurisdiction.”

“Meaning,” Grayson said, “he’s gone to a foreign country.”

“That’s right. Possibly China. My international contacts tell me that China’s hot for these kinds of things right now. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to bury his or her identity.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We’ll keep monitoring it, see if this guy makes a mistake. If this were a terrorist group, the CIA would get involved, send agents overseas, and hunt this provider down. Unfortunately, in this case, our hands are tied. This guy hasn’t sent any notes or threats, has he? to the paper or here at the station?”

“No,” Grayson said.

“Too bad. That’s usually where we can get someone like this.” Blanco got up. “I’ll keep an eye on this from my end, contact you if anything develops or we see a possible crack we can climb in. You might contact the National White Collar Crime Center. They might be able to help you with the international angle.”

The captain stood, prompting Frank to. “Well, Gary, thanks for your time. We appreciate the state stepping in to help.”

“Sure,” Blanco said. Frank offered his hand. “Best of luck to you guys. This is a little crazy. Never seen anything like it.”

***

Kay heard the back door open as she slid the chicken potpie casserole out of the oven. She’d spent the rest of the day taking her frustrations out by baking like a madwoman. Cakes. Cookies. Scones. And a casserole. She set it on the counter and turned just as Damien walked into the kitchen. She immediately noticed his somber body language. “Babe, you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You all right? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” he said, taking off his jacket. He pecked her on the cheek, then sat at the breakfast bar. “Just made Edgar mad today. Twice, actually.”

“Not ‘you’re fired’ mad?”

“No, nothing like that. He wanted me to write a piece on the kidnapping, and I did, but not the piece he wanted. I did it as an op-ed.”

“Well, you are the op-ed writer.”

“I felt like my words would serve a better purpose writing about the Web site. Trying to convince whoever is doing it to stop. I wrote a letter directly to the person.”

“I know. I’m hearing that all kinds of terrible things are happening. Fights. Tires being slashed. Windows broken out. It’s like we’re on the verge of a riot. And then with this kidnapping . . .” Tears stung her eyes for the fortieth time that day.

Damien hopped up and wrapped his arms around her. “You seem . . . sad.”

“I’m just in disbelief that those girls were involved in taking Gabby. And I’m horrified at myself that I didn’t see the signs.”

“How could you have known?” Damien asked, turning her around to face him.

“It’s a mother’s instinct. Jenna kept trying to tell me she didn’t want to hang out . . .” More tears. Damien swiped them and pulled her close. “And I tried to . . . Anyway, I think we’re back to not speaking.” Kay wanted to pour out her heart, but she wasn’t sure how. She never dreamed of telling Damien about her past. She’d not even told him why she and Angela stopped being friends. She couldn’t get herself to.

“How is she doing?”

“She doesn’t want to go to school tomorrow either, but I told her she had to. She’s doing okay, I guess. We had a good morning together, anyway. Talked a lot.” Kay smiled at the thought. “Kind of like old times.”

“Nothing like tragedy to bring people together.”

“I just keep picturing . . . I see Jenna out there, tied to that tree . . .”

Damien stroked her cheek. “Look, we’re all here. Everyone’s here, right? Hunter too?”

Kay nodded.

“We’re all here and safe and together.” He pointed to the casserole. “And chicken potpie casserole? You haven’t made that in a long time.”

“It’s Jenna’s favorite.”

“Where is she?”

“Her cell phone rang. She answered it and went upstairs. Can you grab the butter out of the fridge?”

He opened the door, digging beyond the yogurt and milk.

“Oh, and Frank’s coming over. He just called. Wanted to have dinner here.”

Damien emerged from the fridge with the butter as Kay poured the green beans into a bowl. “We’ve got to get Frank dating again.”

“Good luck with that,” Kay said. She walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Time to eat!”

The doorbell rang. Damien smiled. “Must be Frank, right on time.”

Kay poured the water into glasses as she listened to the kids hurry down the stairs. She hadn’t heard that kind of enthusiasm for dinner in a while.

Hunter arrived first, followed closely by Jenna. “Potpie casserole?” She grinned. “My favorite!”

“Ugh. Did you put peas in it?” Hunter asked Kay.

“Just a few.”

Kay couldn’t keep her eyes off Jenna, who looked up again and offered another smile. Softer. As if there were a lot of good words behind those lips. Kay smiled back and continued serving while holding back a few tears that wanted to escape out of sheer relief her daughter didn’t hate her.

Damien rounded the corner, followed by Frank.

“Hey, Uncle Frank!” Hunter stood to give him a sideways hug.

“Hey, gang,” Frank said, plopping down in his usual chair. “Thanks for feeding me.”

Kay set a plate in front of him. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah. Long day.”

Hunter asked, “Have they arrested the girls?”

Kay started the casserole around. “Let’s not talk about that tonight.”

“It’s okay,” Jenna said, grabbing a roll. “Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away. A wise uncle told me that.” She smiled at Frank.

Kay nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“No charges have been filed yet. But they’re coming. The DA has to put the case together, but we’ve got more than enough evidence.”

Frank served himself the casserole, but Kay noticed he wasn’t eating. Normally he just started digging in.

“Frank? Not hungry?” Kay passed him the green beans.

“Well,” Frank said, “there is another reason I’m here.”

Kay followed his gaze. He was staring at Jenna. Kay set down her fork. An uneasiness swirled in her stomach.

“With Jenna’s permission, I’d like to tell you something,” Frank said, his voice way softer than normal.

Jenna and Frank exchanged a glance.

Kay looked at Damien, whose mouth had frozen midchew. Their eyes met, and Kay read fear. She knew that fear. It was coursing through her own body. What was Frank talking about? Was Jenna involved in the kidnapping somehow? She glanced at Jenna, who just stared at her plate.

“What is it?” Kay asked, trying to keep her voice steady and calm.

Frank held out a hand. “Relax. It’s nothing bad. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Kay sat up straighter, tried to prepare herself for whatever she was about to hear.

“You know we found Gabby last night. The reason we found her in time is because a very brave person tipped off police. And that brave person was your daughter.”

A small whimper of relief escaped Kay.

Jenna glanced up, her eyes searching everybody for a reaction.

Damien reached for Jenna’s hand and looked at Frank. “Jenna?”

“Jenna knew something was going down. She didn’t have details, but her gut told her that those girls were involved. She alerted me to what was going on, where she thought Gabby might be. Turned out she was right.”

“But Jenna was upstairs in her room asleep that night,” Kay said.

Jenna smiled weakly. “I kind of snuck out to meet Frank. Sorry.”

Kay took a deep breath as she sorted through it all in her head.

“Sweetie,” Damien said, “why haven’t you told us any of this?”

“I didn’t think . . .” Jenna shook her head and looked down. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

Damien started to say something, but Kay held up her hand. “She’s right. We haven’t been listening, have we, Jenna?”

“It’s okay. It’s just what I needed to do.”

“She’s a hero,” Frank said. “She saved Gabby’s life.”

Hunter reached over and patted her on the back. “Way to go, Sis.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at her brother like she used to when they were young.

“Jenna,” Frank said, “why don’t you tell your parents the rest?”

“The rest?” Kay asked.

Jenna pressed her lips together and took several seconds before she said, “Once the girls are charged, I might be called as a witness.” She glanced back and forth between Kay and Damien. “I want to do it. I’m not scared.”

“Scared of what?” Damien asked Frank.

“There could be some retribution at school. But we’ll keep Jenna’s name out of it as long as possible. In fact, this thing probably won’t even go to trial until next year. A lot of emotion will have passed by then, so I don’t anticipate any problems. The DA and the department understand the sensitivity of the situation.”

“A lot of people are upset; that’s all,” Jenna said. “I mean, this is hard to take.”

Kay kept nodding with each statement, trying her best to understand that Jenna’s heroic move would not be viewed as heroic by everyone. What had this world come to? She saved a life and now feared for her own?

“There’s a chance the DA might not need her testimony at all. We have confessions from both girls, so they’ll probably enter guilty pleas and be turned over to the court to decide what to do with them.”

“Okay. Sure. We understand,” Damien said, but Kay could see it in his eyes. He was unsure.

Still, to look at their daughter, to know what goodness dwelled deep inside her . . . it sort of wiped out all the apprehension.

“The state brought in an investigator,” Frank continued. “He’s making some headway into figuring out who is doing the Web site. As long as it’s up, he’s fairly sure he can get who is doing this.”

“That’s good,” Damien said, beginning to eat. “The sooner, the better.”

“You haven’t received anything at the paper, have you? any letters to the editor from this guy? any threats?”

“No,” Damien answered.

The conversation continued throughout dinner. Damien mentioned that Reverend Caldwell had stopped by to commend Jenna for sticking up for Gabby. Then talk turned to lighter topics. It seemed like old times, if just for a little while. Frank even agreed to stay for ice cream and a game of Monopoly.

But Frank came into the kitchen as Kay was clearing the dishes and Damien was getting down bowls. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pass on ice cream and Monopoly tonight.”

“You do?”

“Sorry to back out. There’s just something I need to do.”

Kay studied Frank. The lines on his face sank deeper than normal, like how they looked after his divorce. Kay touched his arm. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, fine. Just tired.” Frank gave Damien a quick hug and a hearty slap on the back. “Thank you, my friend. You got a fine family here,” Frank said, winking at Jenna as she and Hunter came into the kitchen.

“You’re leaving?” Jenna said.

“Yeah, sorry, guys. Maybe next time. Hey, Hunter, I’ve got something for you in my truck. Want to walk me out?”

“Sure,” Hunter said.

“Kay, thanks for dinner,” Frank said. “Damien, see you soon.”

Kay and Damien watched from the window as Frank stood for a few minutes talking with Hunter.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Kay asked. “Looks like a lively conversation.”

“I don’t know,” Damien said. “But that right there is a good thing. And a good man.”

***

Frank pulled into the small circular parking lot and checked his watch. Ten minutes before visiting hours were over. He got out and lumbered toward the front doors, his back aching from stress.

The glass doors swooshed open, creating a short breeze against his face. Lisa Yaris, now Lisa Hall since getting married two weeks ago, was working the desk tonight, and she always had a smile for him. “Hi, Frank.” She checked her watch. “Cutting it close tonight.”

“Just throw me in a wheelchair and toss me out when you’re ready for me to go.”

Lisa laughed, stretching over the desk to pat his hand. “You know we love you.”

Frank signed in and walked toward the third hallway, room 412. He knew she’d be done with dinner, done with her bath, and would have her nightgown on.

The door was open and he walked in. She sat in her specially equipped wheelchair, strapped tightly in, with her back to the door. A silent, flickering television played an old variety show in black and white. The tiny Christmas tree he’d brought two weeks ago, with its miniature ornaments, still looked in its place and untouched.

He came around to face her, pecking her on the cheek, then sat down on her bed, eyeing the room to make sure it was well kept and everything was in its place. For a while her gowns kept disappearing, but that seemed to have stopped.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Like always, there was no response. Her contorted face didn’t move. Her eyes blinked every ten seconds. Her mouth gaped open as if it were in the middle of a bloodcurdling scream. Her neck stretched and strained to the right, causing her cheek to almost rest against her shoulder, which lifted up slightly by an arm that was permanently twisted against her chest. Her hands were frozen, clawlike.