by Alex Gates
They already had. “Emily, you’ve been hurt. I’m going to help you.”
“She said she’d protect me.”
Her breathless voice garbled. More blood gargled in her throat. The comforter was drenched.
The ambulance wouldn’t make it in time. Only comfort would save her now, especially since I couldn’t help to make the last moments of her life peaceful.
“Emily, Amber told me the truth. She said you gave birth to the baby.”
She didn’t hear me. “She promised me…”
“They have the baby, Emily. I need you to focus. Help me.”
“I did what she asked.” Every word pained her. She turned, listening for my voice, unable to see me. “I got rid of the baby.”
“It was Amber’s idea to abandon her?”
“I didn’t know I…pregnant. Amber said to run cause the father…”
“Who, Emily?” I held her hand, squeezing tight. “What happened to you? What happened at Grayson House?”
“Drugs. I was bad. Belonged there.”
“It’s okay now. You can tell me.”
“They said…we were pretty. We could make them happy. We went to so many beautiful places.”
“Where?” I tried to keep my voice light, to chase away the fear and helplessness and rage. “Where did they take you?”
“Champagne.”
A formal party? “Did people wear fancy dresses and suits?”
“Beautif…”
“What did you do there?” I called her name, a little more frantic. “Emily, come on. Stay with me.”
“It’s bad.”
“I promise, you won’t get in trouble.”
“Can’t say.”
“Yes, yes you can.”
“They said…jail.” She started to tremble, then seize. Damn it! I held her as best I could, calling over the convulsions. “It’s okay, Emily. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Her groan bubbled more blood to her mouth. “I got…heroin.”
“I know, sweetie. You’re not in trouble.”
“He’d hurt me. Amber and me ran.”
“Emily, were you forced to have sex with other men?”
“I don’t…I’m sorry...they called me pretty.”
“And then you got pregnant?”
“Didn’t know.”
“But they knew?”
“Bad. Bad. They’d be so mad.” Her body stiffened. “They said if we fought…he’d take us away. Heroin. No one would ever know.”
She didn’t have more than a few minutes. And I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Was it Judge Reissing?”
Emily turned away, her cry garbled with choking blood.
“Did Judge Reissing force you to have sex with him? Is it his baby, Emily? Please. I have to help the baby. Is Judge Reissing her father?”
“He said he’d help the baby…” Her breath labored, hard and swallow. “Why didn’t he help?”
Another convulsion, and her breathing stopped.
I backed away, covered in blood and slick with my own tears.
Emily died beside me. Her baby was missing. Her lover was in a second surgery, more dangerous than the first.
And I had absolutely no idea how to stop any more pain and abuse and murders from happening.
Who the hell were these people?
What had they done to these girls?
And if I got any closer to the truth…
How many more would suffer?
19
“You’re not the type to give up, are you?
Even if it’d make things so much easier…”
-Him
They’d followed me to work.
Hadn’t even tried to hide it.
A black sedan with tinted windows and a single driver had parked a block from my house. They left with me in the morning, faithfully switched lanes as I did, and stayed within viewing distance on my way into the station.
I didn’t bother shaking him. My admirer knew my schedule, routine, what I was doing, who I was investigating. Why else would he be lurking in every shadow? Hopefully, he’d stalked me during the past two days. Then he and his handlers would know that I’d found Emily and learned so much about their conspiracy with Grayson House.
I was going to end it.
Problem was…I didn’t know when they’d try to end me.
Even the station felt cold and unfamiliar. I spent the morning on the phone, my voice uncharacteristically soft. I’d spent years learning how to project and assert myself. Suddenly, that skill became a little too isolating. The investigation already singled me out more than was safe.
No news. Nothing good at least. A dozen calls placed in the hopes of tracking down Baby Hope earned me a dozen dead ends. The Amber Alert got us nothing. The media blitz had failed. The Facebook campaign was worthless for any real tips beyond “liking” for prayers.
Hope had vanished in more ways than one.
The last voicemail forwarded from the tip line came from a non-local number. I held the phone on my shoulder as I doodled frustrated circles and squares on a scrap of paper.
“Hi.” An unnaturally chipper voice hesitantly began her message. “My name is Darlene Armstrong, and I’m the director for New Beginnings, a women’s shelter up here in Erie. I just thought…we keep track of the alerts that come in, and a young girl just passed through here yesterday…and she looked an awful lot like that girl, Hannah Beaumont. Your department put that flyer out for her. If you want, call me back. I’ll be in the office from…”
I bolted out of the chair.
Hannah was safe?
“Good girl!” I lunged for my cell and typed in the address of the women’s shelter. The directions started before I even left my desk. “Oh, you smart, smart girl. Keep running.”
Without Emily to point me to her rapist, and as Amber suffered through a third surgery to repair the shattered bones of her femur, Hannah was the only person left who could help me without endangering the other girls at the facility. If I could find her, if I could convince her to talk, she’d point me to the men responsible for hurting the others.
And with them, I’d find the ones who’d kidnapped Hope.
Adamski called from the door to his office, his voice strained. “McKenna. Get in here.”
I packed my things and raced to the door. “I can’t! I have a lead on Hannah Beaumont. I’m heading to Erie now. I’ll call from the road—”
“London. Now.” The subtle shake of his head was a warning to not argue. “We gotta talk Baby Hope.”
Goddamn it. But this was Hope’s case!
I gritted my teeth, checking the time. It’d take two hours to get to Erie. The woman’s shelter had left the message late last night. If Hannah was already gone, every minute I wasted here was another mile she could have run further away.
Adamski wasn’t alone. I regretted the irritated sigh as I swung the door shut. Assistant Chief Esposto graced us with his presence. Adamski gestured me to the open chair.
“McKenna.” Esposto greeted me with a nod. “How are you feeling? Any problems from the car accident?”
“It’s fine. Thank you.” I resisted the urge to rub my stiff neck. “No lasting problems.”
“And your leg?”
I’d ignored the gash from the car accident and let it heal, too busy with the rest of the world’s tragedy to care about a cut on my thigh.
“I heal quickly,” I said.
“Excellent.” Esposto always wore his uniform, and today was no exception. He sat straight and steely, a little too stiff for my comfort. “We wanted to talk to you about a few cases you’ve been working on.”
The alarms throbbed in my head. I let my tongue knot itself into silence. Esposto was friends with Reissing. Close. How much of these cases did he really want to know?
And what would happen to me if I pointed to his friend as the cause of the abuse?
It wasn’t time yet. I needed more proof. A witness. I wasn’t good at being
careful, and I didn’t know the meaning of the word finesse, but I had talent for smiling pretty and putting all the men at ease with a soft laugh.
“I wish I had better news,” I shrugged. “I’m doing everything I can for Baby Hope. I’ve been canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses. I’ve updated the Amber Alerts and sent notifications to hospitals in Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, and West Virginia…just in case Hope wasn’t quite recovered from her addiction and they brought her anonymously to a clinic or doctor.” I edged around the topic. “I’m also on my way to interview a witness who might have had some contact with her mother and…” I cleared my throat. “Her potential father.”
Esposto frowned. “McKenna, don’t waste your time crawling under the city’s bridges to interview drug dealers and pimps. I’ve come here with some unfortunate news.”
I gripped the chair, my nails digging into the cushioned arms. “Did someone find the baby?”
“In a matter of speaking.” Esposto didn’t betray any emotion. His voice flattened. “The baby is dead.”
I fell back against the chair. My purse hit the floor.
Each word punched into my gut.
I tried to hide my panic. Failed. “Where? How?”
“In the fire, London,” Adamski said. “She perished in the house.”
That wasn’t possible. “They found her remains?”
“They’ve identified partial remains,” Esposto said.
“Partial?”
“I’ve spoken with the fire departments, the fire marshal. They’ve agreed. No one could have survived the fire. The heat was too intense, and her body so small...we might never recover…everything.”
Bile rose in my throat.
Everything?
Or anything?
“Sir…I spoke with the foster family. The mother, Cassie Yates, witnessed the kidnapping. She saw two men in the house. When she went to the crib, the infant was gone. Baby Hope wasn’t in the house when it burned down.”
Esposto raised a hand. “Unfortunately, we’ve come to understand that Mrs. Yates is on a prescribed regimen of Ambien. When she woke due to the fire, the drugs hallucinated the figures. She can’t remember the events of the evening.”
“But the neighbor collaborated her story. She saw an SUV speeding away from the house just as the fire started.”
“And she offered no conclusive identification of the vehicle’s make, model, anything. For all we know, the vehicle used the cul-de-sac to turn around.” He met my gaze, unblinking. Uncaring. “I appreciate the hard work and energy you’ve poured into this case. And no one faults you for remaining so optimistic and compassionate about the baby, especially as you forged such a connection with her. But we can’t wish these bad moments away. Detective McKenna, the evidence points to a terrible tragedy, not a dangerous kidnapping.”
“London.” Adamski spoke softly. “You did all you could. No one is blaming you.”
Blaming me? I pushed out of the chair. “I don’t believe it.”
“I understand that it’s hard to hear right now.”
It wasn’t hard to hear.
It was poison. Lies and deceit.
It had to be.
“Someone kidnapped that baby.” I stared them both down. “And until they find her DNA in the fire debris, I’m not stopping this search.”
“Why would someone kidnap this child?” Esposto asked. “You’re not thinking objectively. The baby belongs to a young, drug-addicted teenager who was found prostituting herself in a busted down motel.”
“That drug-addicted teenager was murdered.”
“After lying about giving birth to the child.” Esposto straightened his uniform. How the hell did he ever earn so many medals? “I don’t know what sort of investigation you ran, McKenna, and, because you come highly recommended and have proven yourself with the Goodman case, I am inclined to let that lapse of judgement pass. But let’s look at the facts now. Two young women conspired to abandon a baby. One changed her mind and set fire to a hospital to abduct the infant while her biological mother prostituted herself and did drugs.”
My heart beat a little too quick. I curled my hands into fists to hide the trembling. “And while the fire consumed the foster home, Amber Reynolds was assaulted and nearly murdered in jail. That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
Adamski raised a hand. “London, no one is saying Amber deserved to be attacked.”
Esposto wasn’t as forgiving. “But Reynolds is a liar, prostitute, and arsonist. She endangered the lives of six babies in the hospital NICU. The women in the jail would not have treated her like a friend. They attacked a woman they believed to be a child abuser.”
“She was attacked because she knows the identity of Hope’s mother and father.”
“And why does that matter?”
“Because both the mother and the child could have been used to identify the man who raped Emily Casco. Now they’re both missing or dead to ensure that pervert’s identity remains a secret.” My voice carried. Adamski tried to quiet me. I wasn’t hearing it. “I have one chance now to find out the truth. I have a lead—Hannah Beaumont, another girl who lived in Grayson House. She will tell me what really happened to Emily Casco, and I’m going to find her now.”
Esposto dropped the smile, civility, and hammer all at once. “No. You aren’t.”
“How else are we going to find the truth?”
He stood, straightening his jacket, the shiny metals and emblems which glistened his ranking over me. His order was directed to Adamski.
“The case is closed.” His voice layered with impatience. “Baby Hope is gone. We will issue a statement to the media expressing our deepest sympathies to the family. The officers under your command will return to their daily duties. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Adamski nodded. “I’ll write the statement immediately.”
“Excellent. Have a good day.”
Esposto murmured a dismissal to me, leaving the door open as he abandoned us in silent disgust. A frantic rage coiled me too tight. I’d either burst into tears or rip the plaster off the walls. I spun to face Adamski.
“What the hell was that?” I hissed. “You don’t believe this bullshit, do you?”
“London, it’s a command.”
“It’s a gag-order!”
“Don’t.” He pointed at me, his hand trembling, and not the fault of the arthritis swelling his joints. “Just don’t. Turn around. Go back to your desk. Take the victories you have.”
“I have none!”
“Amber is alive.” His eyebrows rose. “And Hannah? You know where she is?”
“I don’t. A woman’s shelter might have spotted her. But I don’t know—”
“Then you call, but you don’t go chasing. Do you understand me?”
“Do you realize that Amber Reynolds knew her best friend was raped by Judge Edgar Reissing?”
He swore, slamming a hand on the desk. “Goddamn it, listen to me, London. Look around you. Look at who just walked out of my office. That talk will get you tossed on the street…if not tossed in jail first. Do me a favor. Do yourself a favor. Protect yourself for once. Got it?”
“And what about them? What about the baby?”
Adamski didn’t answer. His breathing shuddered, and he shook his head. I couldn’t handle the resignation in his eyes.
“Oh no…” I breathed. “You believe him.”
“London…”
“Hope isn’t dead.”
“I’ve looked at the report myself. The fire, the smoke…I know it’s painful, but—”
“Don’t.” I backed out of his office. “I’m not giving up. Not yet. Not until I know.”
Adamski frowned, tapping his desk. “And when you’re done living in denial…I’ll be here. We’ll talk.”
No.
Because I wasn’t listening.
Unlike Assistant Chief Esposto, I not only had courage—I had a spine.
If I couldn’t follow Baby Hope anymore, I
’d trace another lead. A rape-homicide that, as a member of the sexual crisis unit, I had every right to investigate.
I shouldered my purse and crossed the hall, diving into Riley and Falconi’s world of Guns N’ Fun. Frick and Frack sat at their desks. Falconi leaned his chair on two legs while nursing a tube of GoGurt he must have swiped from his kids’ lunches. Riley choked on a protein shake. Neither looked happy to see me though they must have expected it.
“I want in on the Emily Casco homicide,” I said. “Those men raped her before she died. That makes it a sex crime.”
Riley, for the first time in his life, thought before he spoke. He still got it wrong. “McKenna, how come your missing persons keep ending up on our desk? Maybe we just oughta do your job too? It’d save us a shit ton of paperwork.”
He didn’t want to fuck with me now.
“They just closed Baby Hope’s case. Said she died in the fire.” My stare silenced them. “I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. Just…let me in on this case so I can find the assholes who took the hit out on Emily Casco.”
Riley pitched his protein shake into the garbage, missing by a foot and splattering the can on Falconi’s side of the desk. He didn’t apologize, simply motioned with a burly finger. “Let’s go to lunch.”
“Excuse me?”
“My treat, McKenna.”
“If you think I’m stepping foot outside this building without that file—”
“For Christ’s sake, woman. I’m offering to buy you a burger without expecting you to blow me. How much more of an invitation do you want?”
“Oh, you’re a real class-act, Riley.”
“Falconi, get the car. London—you’re coming with us.”
Like I had a choice. Riley knew better than to lay a hand on me, so the squeeze above my elbow garnered my curiosity and not a knee to his groin.
He escorted me outside and loaded me into their Crown Vic—not as filthy as I expected, but still loaded with enough coffee cups and stirrers to launch a normal person into afib around the residual fumes. Falconi had his vices, and they seemed workplace appropriate. Riley had to wait until he got home to tip the flask.
We didn’t go far, just down the block to a little burger joint called Benjamin’s. It was a tiny bar with a single TV, but they’d packed it with enough ground meat to cause a coronary. Riley and Falconi knew the waiter behind the bar. They didn’t wait to be seated but plunked me in the corner booth and shoved a menu between us and the window.
