Protecting Her Son

by Joan Kilby

  Having a child snatched was every mother’s nightmare. Being a cop made it worse. Paula had read reports and seen graphic images of the horrible things that kidnappers did to their victims and knew the terrifying statistics about pedophilia rings. She knew things that would make her violently ill if she thought about them being done to her son.

  But her gut told her this wasn’t a random kidnapping.

  “What did the man look like?”

  “He wasn’t tall but not short, either. He had dark hair. I didn’t get a good look at his face. His clothes were kind of…I don’t know, they looked out of place. Like city clothes, not small-town clothes, if that makes any sense.”

  It did to Paula.

  “I believe the man who took Jamie is his father.”

  “Oh!” Sally processed this. “You were worried about something like this happening. But this is better than a stranger, right? You can contact him.”

  Paula was dialing Nick’s cell number on her landline even as Sally spoke, the receiver tucked between her ear and shoulder. She waited impatiently, but all that met her ear was silence.

  He’d already destroyed that phone.

  “I don’t have a number for him,” she told Sally with a sinking heart. “I’ll send an officer to the hospital to make sure you’re okay and to get a statement. I would come myself but I need to find Jamie.”

  “I understand.” Sally sniffed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay,” she said with a calmness she wasn’t feeling. “What time was he taken, as near as you can tell?”

  “It was around four o’clock. I had the radio on in the garage and the news had just come on.”

  Paula looked at her watch and noted the time. Twenty minutes had elapsed since Jamie had been snatched.

  She hung up and put out an all-points bulletin on white station wagons. She thought a moment then extended that to airports. For Nick, obtaining a fake passport would be child’s play. He could spirit Jamie out of the country and she would never see her son again.

  * * *

  RILEY WENT STRAIGHT to the station. Paula was in the Incident Room, setting up a whiteboard. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, not caring who saw. “We’ll get Jamie back, don’t worry. Tell me what happened.”

  She hugged him briefly, then eased away. Her eyes were dry and she was in control but she was strung tight. Quickly she brought him up to speed. “I’m almost positive Nick took Jamie.”

  “When I get hold of that bastard—”

  She held up a hand. “Don’t. We need to focus on police procedure.”

  “Where’s John? Where’s everybody?” Riley looked out into the office. They had a kidnapping and the place was deserted.

  “Delinsky and Grant are off today. Jackson and Crucek are on traffic. I’ve put a bulletin out for a white station wagon. Our first priority is to find out where Moresco is staying. The dog might be useful in tracking him down. He used to own a Doberman pinscher. I don’t know if it’s the same dog or another like it.”

  “Vicious dogs. At least they can be. I’m surprised Chloe’s injuries weren’t worse.”

  “That struck me, too,” Paula said. “It’s almost as if the dog was holding Chloe in place without harming her, like he’d been trained to do that.”

  “While Moresco grabbed Jamie.” Riley sat on the edge of the table. “He wanted your son to go to his grandmother’s birthday party.”

  “That’s why I don’t believe Nick means to harm Jamie. Whether he plans to give him back after the party is another question.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Work on finding Nick’s residence. You can check motor-vehicle registrations for white station wagons.”

  “Needle in a haystack stuff.”

  “Got a better idea?”

  “No.” He eased off the table and headed for the door. “I’ll get started right away.”

  “Riley, wait. I thought you had personal business today.”

  He paused in the doorway, just wanting to get away. “I had an appointment with the psychologist.”

  “How’s that going?”

  It was still too raw for him to talk about. “I had a breakthrough.”

  Of course he’d thought that before and then he’d cracked when Moresco had picked up Jamie. In hindsight he’d been right… .

  “Are you cured?” Paula said. “I checked out EMDR on the internet. It’s supposed to get good results for PTSD, quickly.”

  “Simone is optimistic, but she won’t rule out the possibility of me having another panic attack.” Riley came back into the room and sat. “Maybe we should talk about this. Are you okay with me being on the team that looks for Jamie?”

  She hesitated a moment then tried to make up for her qualms by speaking firmly. “Yes, definitely.”

  “What if Nick comes at you with a gun or a knife and I’m standing there like a gibbering idiot. You’re toast.” It was a worst-case scenario but he had to bring it into the open. Had to know if she had confidence in him.

  “Look, I know I was reluctant before, but I need all the help I can get.” She hesitated. “And you’ve always been there for me. You had my back when the others hazed me. You took me on as partner despite the rumors. That meant a lot to me.”

  Suddenly there was a whole lot more on the table than he’d expected when he’d walked into this room. He’d been looking for her confidence in him. Now she was talking about his confidence in her. And trust. But there could be no mutual trust without complete honesty.

  “We’re partners because I’m a mate of John’s and he asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  Paula stilled. “What do you mean, keep an eye on me?”

  “You had a reputation when you joined Summerside P.D. It’s what you were talking about just now. He thought you might be bent.”

  “John thought that?” She spun away and turned back. “Did you think so, too?”

  Riley hesitated. Then he nodded.

  “But now you know differently, right? Now you know I’m as straight as they come.”

  He should simply say yes. She was worried about Jamie. This was no time to bring up whatever issues were between them. But the elephants had come home to roost, to mix metaphors, and they crowded the room.

  “I know you’re always defending Moresco. I know there’s a quality in your voice when you talk to him, a flirtatious nuance that directly contradicts how you say you feel about him.”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Yes, I’m jealous, but I’m also trained in body language and to detect when a person is being honest. There’s more to your relationship with Moresco than you’re telling.”

  “I’m not lying to you,” she said.

  “Then you’re lying to yourself. That’s worse.”

  “You’re wrong. Nick meant nothing to me. He was, and probably still is, a criminal of the worst kind. The kind of man I literally swore on my father’s grave to take down.” She paced the small area, agitated. “I’m going to keep taking those bastards down until there are no more drug lords or dealers to poison our children, corrupt our community and kill good men before their time.”

  She stopped moving, chest heaving, eyes wild. “I hate Nick Moresco. I hate that I had sex with him.”

  Thou dost protest too much. Riley knew she meant what she said and believed it. He also knew that on some level, it wasn’t true. It broke his heart. And it made him angry. Because for a while he’d thought they really had something special, something that might last. But even the strongest connection between a man and a woman was as frail as gossamer when it came to a lie.

  “I’ll get started on the DMV registrations.

  He walked out the door. This time she didn’t call him back.r />
  * * *

  PAULA WATCHED RILEY leave, stunned at the unexpected turn their relationship had taken. What had just happened here? One minute they’d been all about propping each other up. The next he’d attacked her over Nick.

  She shook her head and came back to life, sitting and moving her chair close to her desk. She didn’t have time for this bullshit.

  Forty-six minutes. And counting.

  Systematically she shut down the emotional compartments of her brain. Mental doors slammed on her feelings for Riley, on her own self-doubt. Even on her maternal fears and imaginings about what Jamie was going through. She shut down everything but logic and reason and training.

  Dry-eyed, fueled by a burning anger, she got to work. In John’s absence she made decisions about deploying personnel. If she got in trouble for it, she would take her lumps. She called Jackson and Crucek in, briefed them and sent them out to interview residents on Sally’s street who might have witnessed the kidnapping. Delinsky she sent to the hospital to take Sally’s statement.

  She called her old partner, Detective Russo, at Melbourne Metropolitan Police Department. With a combination of sweet-talk and bullying she got him to agree to email her copies of additional files on Moresco and his crime associates she’d compiled seven years ago.

  While she waited for the files to arrive Paula traced the tortuous paper trail surrounding ownership of the ice-cream shop. Nick wasn’t the registered owner. The owner was Palermo Holdings, an Italian furniture import store with a Carlton address in the city. A Mr. Ricardo Santorini was listed as the manager of Palermo. She had a hunch Santorini was the cousin Ricky she’d overheard Nick speak to on the phone years ago.

  By the time she’d found the phone number for Ricardo Santorini, the email from Russo had arrived.

  “Hey, Ricky,” she said, adopting the voice she’d used in her cover’s persona—western suburbs with a touch of second-generation Italian. “Is Nick there?”

  “Nah, he’s down the peninsula somewheres,” Ricardo said. “Who is this?”

  “Angela, Maria’s daughter.”

  “Who?” Papers rustled. He sounded distracted.

  “My mum is your Aunty Therese’s second cousin,” Paula lied fast, referring to the family tree on the screen in front of her.

  “Uh, okay. Nice to hear from you. What’s up?”

  Paula took a deep breath and plunged in, banking on Ricky being a typical Italian male who didn’t keep track of the whereabouts of his dozens of female relatives.

  “Mama told me about Nonna’s birthday party and said I’d better show up with a plate of cannelloni or else. But I lost the address and she’s gone out of town to bloody Woop Woop for a few days, and there’s no cell phone reception so I can’t call her.”

  “So what do you want with Nick?” A trace of suspicion entered Ricky’s voice. Possibly he was even wondering why she’d called him and not his mother or some other female who would know more about the festivities than him.

  “I thought the party was at his house,” she said innocently. “I heard he bought a flash new place when he got out of the joint. Trying to impress the rellies that he’s got his mojo back.”

  “I don’t know where you heard that pile of BS. Nick’s laying low. The shindig is at Tina and Matteo’s.”

  “Tina’s house. Okay, gotcha. Ta for that.” She hung up before Ricky could ask any more questions.

  Tina and Matteo? Paula didn’t recall anyone by those names. Nothing on the family tree. She scrolled through the list of Nick’s contacts. Nope, not there, either. So much of detective work was tedious, fact-checking, eliminating possibilities, narrowing the playing field.

  Paula went out to the bull pen. The night shift had arrived so she commandeered one of the uniforms and got him going through the phone book, starting with Carlton where most of Nick’s relatives and friends lived, and working outward across the metropolitan area.

  Dinner was a hamburger from the take-out down the road. While she munched, she called Sally to check on Chloe and heard with relief that the blood tests had come back negative for rabies. Then her mother called and Paula filled her in on developments, grateful for her mum’s quiet confidence that Jamie would come home safely. It wasn’t logical but it was reassuring, and Paula needed a dose of reassurance right now.

  She’d just hung up when John knocked on her door. Paula automatically checked her watch. Nearly 7:00 p.m. Outside, the sun cast long shadows and glinted gold off the windows across the road.

  Jamie had been missing three hours.

  John dropped into a chair. “I got your message. I understand you’ve taken over my station.” She started to explain but he held up a hand. “You did the right thing. Any progress?”

  She rolled her shoulders to stretch them and shook her head. “I’ve got first names for the couple who are hosting Moresco’s grandmother’s birthday party, but that’s about it. Not holding out much hope on the station wagon he was driving. The ice-cream shop registration was a dead end.”

  “He’s covered his tracks well. Do you think he was planning something like this from the beginning?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A silence spun out.

  Part of her wanted to ask if John still distrusted her but she couldn’t afford the mental or emotional energy asking would demand of her. That was in a compartment of her brain that was in lockdown. Right now she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her.

  “I talked to Riley. He seems upset but he’s not being very communicative. Are you two okay?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Paula stared him down. Her and Riley’s relationship had never been officially outed—station romances were frowned on—although Riley might have mentioned it to his friend.

  Not that it mattered anymore. She and Riley were done.

  “Never mind.” John sighed and rose. He rapped her desk lightly with his knuckles. “We’ll get your son back.”

  “Damn right we will.”

  Paula returned to the database, searching for clues, no matter how tiny.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RILEY RUBBED HIS eyes. They were blurred and sore from hours of going through motor vehicle registrations on the computer. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for when he’d joined the police department. But it was part of the job and he had to do it. If it meant finding Jamie…

  “Anything?” Paula stood three feet from his desk, arms crossed. Keeping her distance.

  He didn’t know how to bridge the gap. Knew she wouldn’t welcome him trying right now. She was focused on one thing—finding Jamie.

  “I’ve got a short list of a couple thousand white station wagons. I’m working on my short short list now.” He put a hand up to stifle a yawn.

  The day shift had long gone home. Celine was working night-shift Dispatch. The station was quiet.

  “Go home,” Paula said.

  “I’m not tired.”

  “That was an order, Henning. If we get a break tomorrow, you’ll need to be alert.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just walked to her office. He noticed she wasn’t quitting for the night. He tried to resume the search but the letters and numbers swam in his vision. Much more of this and he’d need glasses.

  All right. He’d take a break.

  Riley went home, had a shower and heated leftover pizza in the microwave, washing it down with a beer. Sitting in his house alone was hard. The thought of Jamie being separated from his mum made him want to punch a hole in the wall or something.

  Riley changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and headed off to the shooting range for some target practice. Maybe he could ease his frustration by imagining the bull’s-eye was Nick Moresco.

  He walked through the concrete bunker to one of the individual shootin
g lanes. Fifty meters away a red and white target was clipped to an electronic track positioned in front of a wall of thick wood.

  He loaded his Smith and Wesson and donned safety glasses and earmuffs. Then he gripped the revolver in both hands, braced his legs and extended his arms straight. He lined up the sights and fired off a round of six bullets in quick succession. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils. The recoil sent jolts through his arms and up his shoulders.

  He lowered his arms and lifted his safety glasses to squint at the target. Two bullets had hit the bull’s-eye. All six bullets had placed inside the first three rings. Nothing wrong with his aim.

  He pushed a button and the target came toward him along an overhead cable. Shots rang out elsewhere in the range, the muffled reports echoing off the concrete walls.

  His fingers fumbled with the bullets, slotting two in, dropping the third. He’d thought he could get away from his thoughts, take a break from his feelings. But apparently not. He’d hurt Paula. He’d let her down.

  You do it all the time.

  Bullshit. Who else had he let down?

  All the women in his life. Nabili, his mother, Katie…

  Nabili? He’d barely known her.

  His cell phone buzzed against his thigh. Shucking his earmuffs he answered without even looking at the caller ID, so sure it would be Paula with news about Jamie. “Have you found him?”

  “This is Katie. I heard from Sally that Jamie’s missing. I didn’t want to bother Paula. What happened?”

  Riley told her what he knew and tried to reassure her, but he couldn’t hide the fact that they only had the flimsiest of leads.

  He pulled off his safety glasses and laid his gun on the counter. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay. Same old, same old.”

  It felt like too long since he’d talked to his sister. He wanted to keep her on the line, ask her about her class. But when he opened his mouth, it all poured out. “I’m sorry. Sorry I abandoned you.”

  “What? Riley. What are you talking about?”

  “I left for Afghanistan when you had cancer. You—” He didn’t want to remind her of how she’d nearly died. During the second round of chemo the doctors found cancer in her second breast. Her prognosis had been grim. Riley had left home not knowing if he’d ever see his only sibling again.