I retreated into the back corner of the house, finally giving up on Heather answering my call. I bit the inside of my cheek, seriously beginning to think the worst. Where could she be? Why did she insist on keeping me in the dark?
A thought struck when I glanced to my phone.
It could work, but not without Allison’s help. We needed her more than ever. Before sharing my idea with Erin, I put a call in to Allison. She didn’t pick up either, though I left her a message saying I was thinking of her. It just wasn’t my night.
“So, I was thinking,” I said as I headed back to the table, “if we could triangulate the location of Cameron’s cell phone—” I came to a dead stop and felt my jaw drop to the floor.
Erin stood blinking with guilty doe eyes. Mason giggled and then we all burst out laughing. Somewhere in the short time I was gone, Erin decided she would play dress up and was now wearing Heather’s clothes. She pranced around pretending to be my sister and, though they had never met, I couldn’t stop laughing.
“You were saying?” Erin batted her lashes at me. “Were you looking for me?”
“That’s not funny.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
I stifled my laugh. Once we all calmed down, I told her my theory. “Maybe we can find Cameron by tracing her phone.”
“We don’t have those kinds of resources.” Erin shed my sister’s clothes when her own phone started ringing.
“No, but maybe Allison does.”
Erin answered her phone and retreated into the kitchen.
I took Erin’s spot at the table, feeling much lighter after our moment of laughter. It was a nice change but didn’t last long. I was soon back to work and feeling tense all over again.
As Erin talked in the back, I continued pouring over my notes, drawing lines, trying to connect the dots before turning back to Tyler’s Instagram feed. I scrolled and scrolled until finally stopping on a video I knew Erin hadn’t seen.
Was I seeing it right?
I blinked rapidly and finally had the courage to hit the play button. The screen came to life and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I only looked away when the front door to my house opened and Heather came home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alex King was about to give up when he buckled his seatbelt for the third time. For the past hour, he and Alvarez had been zig-zagging across the Greater Denver area trying to track down the specific Olive Garden where Tracey Brown had worked. Having struck out a third time, the effort and energy wasted was testing King’s resolve. They were running out of options.
King’s cell phone rang. He answered. It was Leslie Griffin calling from the medical examiner’s office. “As soon as I got Kate on the table,” Leslie spoke into King’s ear, “it was clear she may have died of an infection related to childbirth.”
“Not fentanyl?” King asked, somewhat surprised.
“Oh, I’m sure that was in her system, too,” Leslie said, reminding King about the syringe they found dangling off Kate’s arm. “I’m running tests as we speak. But what I want to know is whether Kate injected the substance into her system herself, or if it was given through an IV. Having just given birth, she was probably in a hospital recently.”
King kept one hand on the wheel, navigating the vehicle through habit. “You mean administered by a doctor?”
“That’s right, Detective.” Leslie spoke with confidence. “And if I can prove that it was administered by IV, then Kate died of negligence. Not an overdose.”
King’s chest was heavy as he breathed out a deep sigh. He thanked Leslie for the call and relayed the message to his partner.
“Damn,” Alvarez said softly. He turned his attention out his window and watched the world go by for a moment before adding, “And I was hoping she was just a junkie loser.”
The complication of Kate’s death was still pounding in King’s head. If Leslie was right, Kate didn’t only die from negligence, but that meant her body had been dumped and staged to look like she had overdosed.
When King didn’t respond, Alvarez turned and faced his partner. “But now you’re telling me that we’re chasing a sick predator with a fetish for pregnant women.”
“Not just a predator.” King flicked his gaze in his partner’s direction. “But a doctor.”
“Now I’ve seen it all.” Alvarez ironed the heels of his palms down his thighs. “But who would want only the baby?”
A river of white headlights flickered across King’s face as he let his thoughts go to work. Staring at the red taillights shining from the car in front, King said, “Could be someone running a baby black market?”
“What? Like for organs?”
“Maybe.” King rolled his neck and looked Alvarez in the eye. “But I was thinking adoption.”
Alvarez pushed himself up in his seat as if struck with a sudden thought. King turned onto a new street and began heading north at a steady clip.
“Didn’t something like that happen twenty years ago?”
King could only vaguely recall the case.
“Yeah. Something like that did.” Alvarez’s memory was coming back to him. “And the bastard who was running it got caught, if I remember correctly. But unless he was released from prison, I doubt it could be the same dude.”
King’s mind wouldn’t stop. He had thought of everything, and he kept coming back to how a baby black market made the most sense—whether it be adoption or organs. But who was running it, and why? And where were they keeping these babies after they discarded their mothers?
Several minutes later, King pulled into another Olive Garden and parked near the front entrance. They entered the restaurant to the same smells of garlic and pasta as they had smelled in the others. His stomach grumbled as he joked, “If we get nothing here, we might as well stay for dinner.”
“Sounds good to me.” Alvarez stepped up to the hostess whose nametag read Beth and asked about Tracey.
There was immediate recognition in the young woman’s eyes. King stepped forward and asked, “When was the last time you saw Tracey?”
“Yesterday.” Beth’s voice was small. Her eyes bounced between the walls with nerves. “She was supposed to have been here by now.”
“She was on the schedule for tonight?” Alvarez and King shared a look.
The woman nodded. “Our manager is pissed. Seemed like everyone called in sick and we’re short everywhere tonight.”
“Wait, Tracey called in sick?”
“I don’t know.” Beth shrugged. “I just assumed she did. All I know is she’s a no show and her job is toast if she’s not dead already.”
King’s heart stopped and he lowered his voice. “Why would you say she’s dead?”
Beth stared with doe eyes as she swallowed hard. “Her parents were found dead, right?” When King didn’t answer, the woman continued. “I heard what happened. Everyone has.”
“And what are they saying?” Alvarez wondered, directing his gaze to her colleagues.
The hostess glanced around nervously. “That Tracey was the one who killed them.” When both detectives gave a look, Beth corrected herself. “Not literally. Just that she was a tough girl to work with—a bitch.”
King looked around the restaurant. He studied the staff of waiters and line cooks he caught glimpses of in the back. Middle class citizens of all races were sitting down and enjoying the night. Is this where Tracey met her kidnapper or murderer? Was that even what happened to her?
“Has Tracey ever missed work before?” King asked.
“No.” The woman answered honestly. “It has me worried about her.”
“Have you mentioned this to your manager—your worries?”
Beth shook her head. Her brunette bangs swished across her forehead.
“Is there anything else besides what happened to Tracey’s parents that has you worried for your colleague?”
Beth’s gaze was pointed to her toes and her movements were short jerks of nerves. King couldn’t
help but feel like there was something she wasn’t telling them.
“What do you think, Alvarez? Take her down to the station and make her statement official?”
The woman’s head shot up. “No. I need this job. I’ll get fired if I leave.”
King gripped the edge of her podium and tipped his big body forward. “Then tell us what you know. What was going on in Tracey’s life to make you worried?”
“You must know something we don’t,” Alvarez followed up.
Beth glanced behind her. When the coast was clear she said, “About six months ago, Tracey found out she was pregnant.”
“Did anyone else here know about it?”
Beth shook her head. “Not right away. I shouldn’t have even known. It wasn’t like we were close. But I caught her puking in the bathroom and she spilled it all to me. She couldn’t tell her parents. They would kill her if they found out. Tracey wasn’t convinced she was even pregnant at first, so she went to a clinic and it was confirmed. She was devastated.”
“And you know for a fact she kept this from her parents?” King asked, his mind quickly speculating that Tracey found a way to kill her parents by making it look like a suicide.
The woman didn’t inspire confidence. “Eventually they found out. Her parents wanted her to get an abortion.”
“And what did Tracey have to say about that?”
“I don’t know the details of what was said, but Tracey made it sound ugly. The last thing she wanted was to terminate the baby. Even if she was terrified with the prospect of becoming a mother, she couldn’t do that.”
“How did her boyfriend react to the news?”
Beth flicked her eyes to King. “She doesn’t have one.”
King pursed his lips in thought.
“At least, she never mentioned one to me.” Beth dipped her head and wiped her nose. “This is awful,” she choked back the threat of tears. “If only her parents had supported her and she didn’t go looking for help.”
“Where did Tracey go looking for help?” Alvarez asked.
Beth’s watery eyes were locked on Alvarez. “Tracey knew that the money she made here wasn’t going to be enough. She wanted to do this on her own—prove to her parents that she didn’t need them.”
“So what did she do?”
“There was an ad online promising medical care and money to single, first-time mothers.” Beth flashed a quick look of hope. “It was like her prayers had finally been answered, but now,” her voice fell to a whisper, “I’m not so sure.”
Chapter Thirty
My lips were dry as I breathed through my mouth. I had made a moral judgment as my thoughts scrambled to understand what I was watching.
I played the short video clip again.
Heather stood over my shoulder watching it along with me. When the short clip finished, she told me to play it again. And so it went for three straight loops before I’d had enough.
Heather dropped into the chair next to me. My jaw was still dangling loose as I stared wide-eyed and shocked into silence. My sister was equally as quiet when she set a white packet on top of the table. I thought nothing of it and we shared a look of disbelief—horrified that this video had garnered as many ‘likes’ as it had.
“You know that woman?” Heather asked me.
I turned back to the computer and stared. “We’ve met.”
Erin was off the phone when she joined us. “Listen to this…” Her words trailed off when she saw both Heather and me staring at her computer screen. She stepped forward and looked to me for answers.
Without a word, I played the video for her.
“Is that Ms. Dee?” Erin gasped.
“And Tyler,” I said, staring at Tyler emptying a bottle of champagne over a topless Ms. Dee. They were at some nightclub and were being cheered on by the surrounding crowd.
“If we doubted Ms. Dee’s neighbor before,” Erin’s eyebrows were raised, “I guess this confirms what everyone has been saying.”
“Everyone but Ms. Dee,” I said.
Tyler wasn’t lying. It wasn’t his ego speaking, either. Clearly, he and Ms. Dee had a history that was not only confirmed by her neighbor, but also here, online for the world to see.
My stomach flipped—the greasy pizza threatening to come back up. We had the proof we were looking for and now we needed to learn why Ms. Dee insisted on keeping this piece of information from us—besides the obvious embarrassment that came with it.
“When was this dated?” Erin tipped forward on her toes and squinted her eyes.
I looked her in the eye. “A month before Cameron went missing.”
“Eight months pregnant.” Erin dropped onto her heels.
“And you know who I haven’t seen a single photo of in Tyler’s Instagram feed?”
“Cameron,” Erin said in a toneless response.
I nodded.
“What is everyone looking at?” Mason asked as he made his way over to us.
“Just work stuff,” I said, closing out the browser before he could see. “Did you get enough to eat? There’s still more pizza in the box.”
Mason opened and closed the box without taking a slice as he passed by on his way into the kitchen.
Tipping my head back, I turned to Erin. “You were saying?”
“Oh, right.” Erin danced on the tips of her toes. “So, I just received a call from a couple who was listening to my podcast tonight—you know, about the woman who got pregnant when she was in a vegetative state?”
“What?” Heather’s brow furrowed.
Erin was brief, telling her she had to listen to the episode to understand the complete story, and continued, “Anyway, the woman who called, her name is Kristi Patterson, and she has a story for us to hear.”
“What about?”
“She didn’t go too deep into the details, wanting to save it for when we meet in person—which, by the way, we are doing tomorrow and I told her you would be coming along with me.”
“Okay,” I said, but I wanted to hear what had Erin so invested in this story. “But we’re kind of busy here, can’t this wait?”
“Apparently, she and her husband had IVF almost four years ago and now suspect they might have received the wrong embryo.” Erin paused but my thoughts were too scattered to form a response. “She called me because they thought the time might be right for the world to hear their story—for us to investigate whether their suspicions are true.”
I agreed, only to satisfy Erin’s wishes, but not before making a stipulation of my own. “As long as we don’t miss our chance to confront Ms. Dee about this video of her and Tyler, I’ll be happy to tag along.” I immediately thought of Dawson and his warning for me to stay off the website this week. There was no way—especially if he wasn’t giving me an exclusive to publish in the Times.
Heather had been quiet as we talked. The only times I knew my sister to be silent were when something was wrong.
Flicking my gaze in her direction, she was biting her fingernails and had a distant look in her eyes. It was then I realized she was staring at the white packet she’d come home with.
“What is this?” I said, reaching for the packet.
Heather slapped her hand down on it before I could inspect it myself.
Erin jumped with surprise.
The air between my sister and me zapped an electric buzz of familial intensity as I stared my sister down in a duel for the packet. Erin didn’t know what to do or say, but neither I nor my sister were ready to surrender.
A knock on the door sent Cooper running to the front of the house.
We didn’t budge.
Mason bounded from the kitchen and finally Heather managed to reel the packet into her chest when I took my eye off the prize, wondering who was at the door.
“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Heather stood from the table and disappeared into the back with her mysterious packet.
I heard King talking to Mason before I swiveled my neck around to see him w
ith my own eyes. His gaze flicked to me. A small smile curled the corners of his lips as if offering some kind of peace treaty. Then he shifted his focus back to my son when I gave him nothing in return.
A ball of fire spun deep in my core. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I wanted to remain angry at him just to prove a point, but he was too good with my son to keep me from forgiving him for what he’d done.
Slowly, I backed away from the table and marched up to him.
“You don’t get to come here and act like what you did today wasn’t wrong!” I slammed the flats of my hands into each of his breasts, surprising the entire room, including myself.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared bug-eyed, completely staggered by my reaction. Mason gave me one look and retreated back to the couch. He knew better—had received this treatment himself before. Erin continued to stare and Heather was back in the room to see what was happening.
“Sam,” King’s voice was low and direct, “I’m here to make peace.”
“Then you better be quick.”
King scrubbed a hand over his face. “Her name was Kate Wilson and she recently gave birth.”
My heart stopped and my blood ran cold. I opened my mouth and quickly snapped it shut. I blinked my eyes in an attempt to refocus but I couldn’t get past his eyes, hating him for making it seem so easy.
I glanced to the couch. “Mason, go to your room.”
Mason frowned. “What did I do wrong?”
“Just go.” I folded my arms across my chest and continued to hold King’s gaze inside of mine. “There is something I need to say to King that you can’t hear.”
Mason flicked off the television and stomped his way to his bedroom.
I didn’t want him to hear about my work—listen to the ugliness in the world that surrounded us. Mason wasn’t stupid. He was one of the least sheltered teenagers I knew and had experienced too much of the ugliness we were fighting. But I would continue to protect him every chance I got.
“So it wasn’t Cameron or Tracey?” My voice was low, calm, as I began lobbing questions at King.
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