"We have less than forty-eight hours to save the lives of these two children, folks, let's not waste a single minute of it."
Detective Elaine Jentzen, brand-new to homicide, watched as Chief John Dugan turned to the case board where pictures of the two missing children were prominently displayed, along with other pertinent details related to their disappearance from an affluent Ansley Park neighborhood just twelve hours ago.
"The perp's M.O.," the chief continued, his deep voice somber, "is eerily similar to that of the Cradle Snatcher from three years ago who abducted and held for ransom six Atlanta children. A perpetrator, I might add," he qualified as he faced the audience of attentive detectives once more, "we have yet to nail."
Grumblings went through those assembled in the conference room. No one liked to admit defeat, but that case had defeated the best of the best Atlanta's homicide division had to offer.
Elaine flipped through the case notes Chief Dugan had given her earlier that morning on the three-year-old cold case he'd just mentioned. There had been three different kidnappings, all from the same prominent area — Buckhead. In each instance two children from the same family were taken from their beds in the middle of the night while parents slept just down the hall. Ransoms were paid and still the children were not saved, and the killer had gotten away with the worst of crimes one human could commit against another — he'd murdered the most helpless of the species.
Buckhead was home to Elaine. She'd grown up in that neighborhood. Her parents still lived there. Though she had been away at college when the Cradle Snatcher kidnapping/murders occurred, she had kept up with the horrific events as they unfolded. Even now, she ached for the loss the parents had suffered. She closed her eyes a moment to block the gruesome images that started to reel through her mind. She had to keep history from repeating itself.
Whether this was the same bastard who'd murdered those children three years ago or not, Elaine intended to make sure he didn't get away with it again. She would stop him. She would not rest until she'd found those children…alive.
Her gaze shifted to the pictures on the board behind the chief. Five-year-old Christina Avery and her four-year-old brother, Scotty. Elaine felt her insides churn with outrage. Any scumbag who would harm a child didn't deserve to live in her opinion.
Atlanta PD could not let this happen again. She would not let it happen, Elaine silently promised those two innocent faces staring out at her.
Was it possible that this abduction could be related to those from three years ago? The M.O. was certainly the same. But, if the original perpetrator in the Cradle Snatcher case had been some sort of sicko serial offender, what had made him play dead these past three years? Serial offenders didn't typically lapse into prolonged periods of inactivity without big-time motivation, such as being physically incapacitated or incarcerated. Maybe this was a completely different scumbag.
Before the briefing concluded, an agent from the local Bureau office introduced himself and assured all present that the FBI would be working hand in hand with Atlanta PD to save the children, and to bring the person or persons responsible for these despicable acts to justice.
As the meeting broke up and detectives, most of who had worked through the night, began to filter out of the conference room, Chief Dugan waylaid Elaine. "Drop by my office before you head out this morning, Jentzen."
Elaine pushed a professional smile across her lips and gave him a succinct nod. "Yes, sir."
She managed to keep the smile pinned in place until the chief had turned his attention to someone else. It wasn't that she worried she was in trouble. This was her first week in homicide. She hadn't been here long enough to be in trouble. But, he made her nervous.
A troubling sigh seeped past her lips before she could stop it. Maybe nervous wasn't the right word, she admitted. He made her feel restless in her own skin. Made her regret just how dead her sex life was. She shook off the distracting thoughts and gathered her notes. Lives were at stake, there was no time to worry about anything else right now.
"That's not a good sign, Jentzen."
Shifting her attention to the man who'd spoken wasn't necessary for Elaine to identify who had made the sarcastic remark. Detective Flatt. She would recognize that cocky, arrogant voice anywhere. Flatt had made detective last year, landing a position in homicide.
The major difference between his career and her own was that she'd skipped the requisite time spent as a beat cop. It wasn't totally unheard of, but more often than not detectives rose up from the rank-and-file after paying their dues for a few years. She'd scarcely spent six months doing hers. So far, she hadn't encountered any professional antagonism she couldn't handle for having gone straight to the gold shield, but she didn't doubt it would pop up from time to time.
Flatt had been partnered with Jillette, a detective with two years of homicide investigations under his belt. Both had excellent reputations, but neither seemed to care for the newest addition to the division — her. Maybe it was a guy thing, after all. Elaine was the first female to breach the ranks of Atlanta's revered homicide division. Or maybe she just didn't dress well enough for their taste. Already, she'd heard the others calling the two "Ivy Leaguers" — both appeared to spend a great deal of attention and money on their wardrobes.
Elaine feigned a smile for Flatt. "Maybe I'm up for a promotion already," she countered, a little part of her gleefully hoping the over-confident prick would sweat the possibility for a moment or two.
Flatt snickered. "Yeah, right."
So much for seeing him sweat. Elaine refused to be goaded by the guy, which wasn't difficult since he strolled away as if she was far too insignificant to rate his attention beyond that pithy exchange. Flatt did look as if he'd just stepped off the pages of Vanity Fair. She wondered briefly if he thought snazzy attire would make up for his missing personality. Somebody needed to let him know it wasn't working.
As she made her way toward the exit of the conference room, several of the other detectives acknowledged her with a polite smile or a quick good morning — nothing overly warm or welcoming. She'd pretty much decided that it would take time for her to fit in.
The chief had already departed with the federal agent tagging along. She wondered if her command performance in his office had anything to do with the Bureau rep. Probably not, she decided on further consideration. She wasn't high enough on the food chain for that kind of attention.
The chief's office was only a few doors away from the conference room. As she entered the reception area, the secretary looked up and told Elaine to go on in. Elaine spackled a perfunctory smile back into place, thanked her and headed into her boss's office. At the door she hesitated long enough to draw in a deep, fortifying breath.
She knew how to be a good cop. Hell, she had brothers and a father who were cops. It was the politics she had to get used to. No problem. She would learn that part as well. Adaptation was a handy skill for any woman, especially one in cop world.
Elaine stepped through the door and strode across the room, her shoulders back, her head held high. The chief stood immediately, as did the only other person in the room.
Not the fed, she noted.
Hank Henshaw had worked homicide for longer than Elaine had been alive, and his reputation for detail was nothing short of spectacular. The veteran detective eyed Elaine speculatively as she paused near the vacant chair in front of the chief's desk.
"Detective Jentzen, I'm not sure you've been formally introduced to Detective Hank Henshaw." The chief gestured to the older man whose full head of gray hair belied the sharpness of his skills. Age hadn't slowed this guy down one iota.
Elaine thrust her hand toward Henshaw and let him see the respect in her expression. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
Henshaw pumped her hand twice, his steely gaze analyzing her closely. When he'd completed his analysis, he released her hand and reached up to slip the unlit stub of a cigar from the corner of his mouth. "Didn't they teach you how to eat right at that fancy college you graduated from?"
Elaine felt her cheeks flush. "The police academy told me to keep it lean, Detective Henshaw," she said, flustered. What the hell kind of question was that? Agnes Scott was one of the top private women's universities in the country. And, besides, she'd attended the police academy since then and worked briefly as an intern with one of Atlanta's top private investigators before joining the force. There was nothing wrong with the way she looked. Her health was excellent and she was damned strong.
Henshaw winked at her then shifted to face the chief. "She'll do."
Elaine was uncertain of what that remark was supposed to mean, and opened her mouth to ask Henshaw what he meant when the chief spoke. "I'm partnering you with Henshaw," he said. "His partner recently retired and I think the two of you will make a great pair."
Anticipation seared through Elaine's veins, instantly obliterating her annoyance. Hank Henshaw was to be her partner? Great! Then she reconsidered the smart-ass remarks he'd just made. Maybe not so great. Elaine knew this was the point where she should say something, but for the life of her she couldn't decide what. Should she question the chief's decision or toss out a show of team spirit?
Henshaw gestured to her with his stub of a cigar. "Looks like she's too overcome to speak," he suggested to the chief.
Elaine felt the chief's eyes on her before she could swing hers in his direction. "I … that's great," she stuttered. She felt a new flush of heat spread in her cheeks. "A real privilege." How was that for finesse? She had to back up here and regroup.
"I want the two of you one-hundred-percent focused on this case," the chief was saying, as if Elaine hadn't stammered out her pathetic line.
That statement drew her full attention. This was exactly the opportunity she had been looking for. Not to mention she wanted to bring down the perp responsible for these kidnappings and she wanted desperately to save those children.
"Flatt and Jillette will be primary on the case." The chief looked from her to Henshaw and back. "But I'm counting on you two to get this guy."
Pride welled in Elaine's chest. That he had that much confidence in her was one hell of an ego booster. Including Henshaw made sense. According to the notes the chief had given her, Henshaw had worked the Cradle Snatcher case three years ago. His experience would be invaluable. Not to mention he was a top-notch detective.
"I want him," Henshaw said. "I want him bad."
Elaine couldn't help wondering if the man felt responsible for the deaths of those other children. What a heavy burden that must be. She didn't want to have to live with that kind of weight on her conscience. There was only one way to make sure that didn't happen.
"We should start by reviewing the old case," Elaine suggested, deciding to dive in headfirst. "Talk about the similarities and take it from there."
Henshaw considered her skeptically but didn't bother to comment.
"That's what I want to hear," the chief enthused. "I want these children alive," he urged. "Time is our enemy." His gaze seemed to zero in on Elaine, in particular. "Make it happen."
"Find anything I missed?"
Elaine looked up to find Henshaw reading over her shoulder. She'd been poring over the Cradle Snatcher case file. Two hours and she hadn't found anything that Henshaw and his previous partner hadn't explored to the fullest extent possible.
"Not yet," she allowed as she stretched her neck. The sights and sounds around the homicide bullpen drifted into awareness as she pulled her thoughts from the case file. About the only thing she'd managed the last two hours, was to get even more depressed as she studied the reports involving the children and their families. What she'd read in the newspapers and seen on television three years ago had been only the tip of the iceberg.
Henshaw pulled up a chair and sat down next to her desk. "You won't, either," he said sagely.
Elaine decided then and there that she intended to be honest with her new partner, keep things on the table and completely open between them. She despised underhandedness, hated gossip even worse. This relationship needed to be based on trust and mutual respect. And, besides, she liked him. Liked his brash honesty. She was lucky to be partnered with a guy who'd spent three decades doing stellar police work.
She pushed the file aside. "You and your former partner did a damn good job."
"Not good enough."
She knew what he meant. Lives had been lost and the bad guy got away.
"But he won't get away this time," Henshaw said. "I'm gonna make sure he makes a mistake."
Elaine sat up a little straighter. Henshaw sounded more and more as if he liked doing things the same way she did: going straight for the heart of the matter. "What kind of mistake?"
She'd read Flatt's initial reports on the Avery case. Had walked through the scene, even interviewed the parents with Chief Dugan. Nothing had jumped out at her. There hadn't been any mistake on the perp's part, this time or last time if he was, indeed, the Cradle Snatcher. Maybe that was the reason the chief had decided to get personally involved in this one.
Henshaw tapped the file. "Three years ago he kidnapped three sets of children. Received three ransoms. Then walked away, leaving no loose ends."
Elaine's stomach knotted as images of just how he'd tied up those loose ends flashed vividly in her mind. The children had been sacrificed. "You think he's going to attempt the same thing this time," she interjected, a flicker of uncertainty twisting her gut.
The cigar stub rolled from one corner of Henshaw's mouth to the other. "That's right. But the one thing we have to remember is that he couldn't possibly have done this kind of elaborate abduction alone. He had to have help. Two of those three cases before involved family pets — all dogs — just like in the Avery case. Each time the dog was drugged, making access to the kids easy. How did he get close enough to make that happen without so much as a yip from the mutts? I say he had help. All we have to do is make his help nervous."
"How can we assume his partner will be that gullible?" Sounded risky but she was definitely intrigued. They sure as hell didn't have anything better to go on. "How do we know he didn't tie up that loose end, as well? He could have gotten rid of any partner who'd helped him steal those children three years ago."
"We can't," Henshaw deadpanned, "but we don't have a damned thing else. We can either wait this out and hope he screws up and leaves us a clue, or we can take the offensive. Make a move and try to get a reaction." He turned his palms upward in question. "Maybe he did get rid of any associate involved with the previous kidnappings, but people talk. Can he be absolutely certain that partner didn't tell someone something? That's the button we need to push. We need a reaction. And, if he had help last time, chances are he'd want it this time. Assuming that scenario, all we have to do is make the new helper wonder what happened to his or her predecessor."
Elaine could see where he was going with the idea but his end game eluded her. "We don't have enough time to go looking for a needle in a haystack. We're taking the same steps this time as last time. Interviewing any and everyone associated with the family. Retracing the steps of dozens of suspects' activities."
In a case like this, those close to the family were the first suspects to be eliminated — a time-consuming process. From child-care providers to pest exterminators, if they came into contact with the family, they had to be ruled out as suspects. Especially, as Henshaw had pointed out, considering the family dog hadn't made a peep while someone came into the house and took the children away. Just another similarity to the Cradle Snatcher case.
Henshaw nodded once in agreement. "You're right. Time is our handicap. So we bring the needle to us."
Henshaw had to be fifty-five if he was a day. Maybe senility had set in early. He wasn't making sense.
"I don't follow," Elaine countered. "How do we make that happen? We have nothing."
Her rookie side was showing, but hey, she had to be up-front here. There was no time to waste playing games. If he was on to something, he needed to make it clearer for her benefit. After all, she didn't have that lifetime of on-the-job experience he possessed.
"We put out the word that we have a material witness in protective custody that knows something."
She wanted to catch his enthusiasm. To feel the excitement he was clearly feeling, but she had to play devil's advocate. Her father was in Internal Affairs; she'd been taught from an early age to ask questions. "What if we're wrong? What if this isn't the same perp as three years ago? What if his partner, assuming he had or has one, isn't so easily provoked?"
Henshaw shrugged. "Then our perp'll get a good laugh at Atlanta PD. Every paper in the city's already speculating about the similarities in the case and our ineptness. Let's take it to the next level. Do a little trolling."
"And if it's not the same guy?" she pressed.
"He's gonna get the ransom, anyway. Maybe, even if he is the Cradle Snatcher, he'll try to make us look stupid by leaving the kids alive," Henshaw explained patiently as if his logic should be crystal clear.
Elaine studied his eyes for ten seconds or so before she said the unthinkable. "Then again, if this is not the same perp, he could use the connection as an excuse to kill those children, tying this kidnapping to the Cradle Snatcher and ultimately getting away with it since no one would even be looking for him. We'd all be too busy trying to ferret out the Cradle Snatcher."
"That's a risk we'll have to take," Henshaw said with a somberness that settled atop Elaine's shoulders like a weight. "We can't just sit here going over and over what we already know. Dancing the same steps as last time. We have to do something. Make a move. Force a reaction."
She looked at the clock… Time was ticking by…running out for the children. If this was the bastard who'd committed those murders three years ago, his M.O. was to demand the ransom 48 hours after the abduction, then 24 hours later it would be delivered but the children would not be found alive. A shudder went through her, prompting her to act…to do something more than talk about what ifs.
"There's also the possibility," Henshaw added since she hadn't responded, "that if there is anyone out there who knows something, this may give him or her the courage to come forward or, at least, scare'em enough to make'em screw up. It's happened before." A couple of examples would have been helpful but he didn't mention any.
Elaine leaned back in her chair and considered that what Henshaw proposed was, in some ways, genius. A distraction, a diversion. The perfect way to throw the perp and/or any accomplices off balance.
"Let's go to the chief and see what he has to say," she suggested.
"He has high hopes for you, you know," Henshaw said as he pushed to his feet.
Frowning, Elaine stood. She hoped whatever her new partner was about to say didn't have anything to do with her being a woman. She'd earned this position the same as the rest of the detectives in homicide. Maybe she hadn't put in any real time on a beat, but she'd worked hard at the academy as well as the extended forensics course. She'd aced the exams and had every right to carry a gold shield.
"The chief, I mean," Henshaw clarified, obviously taking her silence for apprehension or defensiveness. "He thinks you're going to be the division's biggest star."
Elaine relaxed. "Thank you, Henshaw."
So, maybe the comment had nothing to do with the fact she was a woman or that she'd moved into homicide faster than any other detective. She immediately dismissed the other thought that tried to intrude. That whole crazy concept was likely just in her head. It wouldn't be the first time a rookie had gotten infatuated by someone he or she admired.
The chief was a great guy. Always making headlines. He had the classically handsome good looks that made him perfect material for the paparazzi. His recent divorce only served as more press fodder. All of Atlanta loved him, watched his every move. Of course she would be in awe of the amazing John Dugan. Who wasn't?
She just had to keep her admiration-inspired lust in check. The dead last thing she wanted was any of the other detectives noticing, especially her new and keenly perceptive partner. This was what she'd wanted since she'd been a kid: to be a homicide detective. No way was she going to risk a mistake.
Besides, she had her assignment: focus on this case.
Save those children.
When the evening papers hit doorsteps and newsstands throughout the city, Henshaw's bait had been laid. Surveillance had been posted at the home and business place of most everyone even remotely related to the Averys.
It was the first time in three years that such an extensive portion of the police force had been focused on one case. Risk was involved on more than one level, but every single cop in Atlanta wanted to save the Avery children and was willing to take most any risk to do so. Most importantly, there was little time and it was running out in a hurry. They needed a lead…just one.
Elaine peered out the window of her partner's sedan. Though he didn't smoke his cigars in her presence, or in his car as far as she could tell, the stench of burned tobacco clung to his clothes. She wondered why a man his age risked his health by continuing to partake in such a nasty habit.
She and Henshaw had opted to watch the home of the Avery family's pediatrician. While doing some more digging on the case, Henshaw had recognized that Dr. Ronald Grider was the same pediatrician used by the families from the Cradle Snatcher case.
Grider had been a key suspect in the three-year-old case, but his alibi for each of the kidnappings had been rock solid. On top of that, motive had always been a question mark, especially given his financial situation.
That he was again in the limelight wasn't in and of itself suspect; he was, after all, one of the most highly sought after pediatricians in Atlanta. Folks traveled from far and wide to bring their children to his clinic. The families victimized in the Cradle Snatcher case, as well as the Averys, were affluent, which fit with his clientele as well as his lifestyle. His reputation was stellar — everyone loved him. His Buckhead home proved as lavish as one would expect for a prestigious doctor.
Still, like anyone related to the victim in any manner whatsoever, he was a suspect. Hence, the stakeout across the street from his personal residence.
"For a guy who leaves his windows unobscured by curtains, you don't see much of him," Elaine said drolly.
Three hours had passed since they'd parked across the street from the doctor's English-Tudor-style home. They'd followed him from his office. He'd known he was being watched, had even suggested Elaine and Henshaw come inside when he'd parked in his drive. He seemed nice enough but a little smug. Then again, maybe he simply had nothing to hide. He'd been through this before, knew the drill. Still, his invitation reeked of a cavalier attitude. It didn't bode well with Elaine.
"He's probably in the shower," Henshaw offered. He had this way of moving that unlit stogie around when he talked — kind of reminded her of Columbo.
Maybe Dr. Grider was in the shower, but her gut kept nagging at her. He'd invited them in, but where the hell was he? She could see right into the living room and kitchen, his bedroom even. Any room that had windows facing the street was wide-open visually. Maybe there were blinds he lowered when he needed privacy. But they damned sure weren't lowered right now. And there wasn't a sign of him.
She told herself that Henshaw was right. He was in there doing whatever doctors did to relax. Maybe working out in a home gym, or relaxing in a Jacuzzi in a room that didn't face the street. Still, something nagged at her.
Hard as she tried, she just couldn't let it go. Elaine pulled out her cell phone and dialed the doctor's home number. It rang four times before going to his answering service.
"Told you he's probably in the shower," Henshaw said from the side of his mouth that wasn't gripping the cigar stub.
"Only one way to find out." Elaine couldn't say for sure what drove her, some niggling instinct that just wouldn't let go, but she had to make sure he was still in there and okay. She reached for the car door handle. "I'm going to check it out."
"Let me know if you need me," Henshaw said, unimpressed with her decision.
Maybe she was overreacting here, but she had to be sure. Henshaw was right to stay in the car. Surveillance had to be maintained on the general area.
Elaine slid out of the car, closed the door quietly behind her, and double-timed it across the street. Lights along the upscale street illuminated the sidewalks and a few feet into the meticulously manicured lawns. She would feel like a complete fool if he was, as Henshaw said, in the shower, but she had to be sure. So what if her rookieness was showing again. It was her M.O.
Maybe it was the competitiveness growing up — surrounded by so much testosterone. She'd always worked harder, pushed herself to the limit, whatever it took, to get the job done. Even in college she'd taken far more credit hours each semester than her advisor had recommended. Call her Type-A or a plain old glutton for punishment. She liked pushing the envelope, thrived on the thrill of the hunt.
Like now. Her heart kicked into a faster rhythm.
When she reached the front door she found it locked. She depressed the doorbell and waited the requisite sixty seconds before stabbing the button again. After another thirty seconds when he didn't answer, she went around back. The windows all looked secure but uncovered like the ones in front. Maybe the guy was an exhibitionist. Elaine shook her head at the thought, then reached for the back door and was startled to find it unlocked as well as slightly ajar.
Reaching for her weapon with one hand, she pushed the door inward with the other. A fresh surge of adrenaline sent her instincts on a higher state of alert.
Inside, the kitchen and dining area were well lit. Nothing looked out of place. Neat, orderly and elegant. Marble floors, soaring ceilings, exquisite well-placed furnishings screamed of a highly-paid interior decorator — just the sort of environment in which one expected to find a highly-respected doctor living.
The entire downstairs portion of the house was quiet and deserted. Somewhere upstairs music played, floating down the inspired mahogany staircase to soothe anyone within hearing range. As she climbed those gleaming stairs, she didn't call out to Dr. Grider. Maybe she should have, but that same instinct that was humming big-time now kept her moving with all the stealth she'd learned in cop school.
Four bedrooms, each with its own bath, comprised the second floor. Nothing moved. No sound except the music that was evidently coming from the final room in the upstairs hall. As she entered what would likely be the doctor's bedroom suite, she encountered a door on either side of a smaller hall that led deeper into the bedroom. One led to a huge walk-in closet, the other into the bathroom.
The water in the steam shower was running. Steam wafted above the intricately etched glass, making the bathroom humid and foggy.
"Dr. Grider," Elaine called out, sensing the need now. The rushing crescendo of the classical piece pouring from the built-in sound system provided background music for the tension escalating inside her.
She leveled her weapon, braced herself to make an evasive maneuver if necessary and pulled the shower door open.
Dr. Ronald Grider sat in the corner on the Italian tiled floor of the glamorous shower. His eyes were closed and his hands lay on either side of his naked body. No outward sign of injuries, no blood. He simply sat there as if he'd gone to sleep. But Elaine knew instinctively that wasn't the case.
She twisted the lever, turning off the water, and stepped into the massive shower that was almost bigger than her entire bathroom at home. She crouched down next to the body and checked for a pulse. Nothing.
"Damn." She'd expected as much but that didn't make the confirmation any less frustrating. Elaine shoved her weapon back into its holster and retrieved her cell phone to call her partner and have him dispatch the paramedics. Then she lowered Grider onto his back and started CPR, for the good it would do. He'd been dead long enough for his color to be bluish gray. His skin still felt warm but that likely had more to do with the heat from the shower than anything else. Still, she had to try.
What felt like a mini-eternity later, but was likely only mere minutes, her partner shouted, "Jentzen!"
"In here!" she shouted back between puffs of air into the unresponsive victim's lungs.
She counted off the chest compressions, cursing fate's determination to throw another stumbling block into the path of the investigation.
"Damn," Henshaw echoed her muttered sentiment as he leaned through the shower opening, opting not to risk further contamination of the scene.
"Heart attack, maybe?" she suggested before leaning down to force more air into the doctor's lungs.
"Could be. Need me to take over?"
"I got it." Another breath, then she counted off more compressions. Just as she leaned down to direct more air into the doctor's lungs, Henshaw said, "I'll look around. Call in forensics and start processing the scene just in case."
The sound of sirens in the distance alerted Elaine that help was near, but she already knew that nothing would bring Ronald Grider back. He was gone for good.
The water puddled on the shower floor had soaked through the legs of her slacks, and her arms had grown limp with exhaustion by the time the paramedics scrambled into the shower with her.
Elaine stood on shaky limbs and almost slipped on the slick tile in her hasty attempt to get out of the way. She needed some air.
"You okay, Jentzen?"
She nodded at Henshaw and automatically glanced around the bathroom, cop mode immediately pushing aside her own discomfort. Had the doctor merely dropped dead of a heart attack or was something more at play?
"Had himself a glass of wine before he got into the shower." Henshaw gestured to a stemmed glass sitting on the marble vanity top.
"I didn't see any sign of forced entry when I came inside," Elaine said, her mind whirling with possibilities. "The back door was unlocked and ajar but he may have left it that way."
"Could be coincidence that he croaked on our watch," Henshaw suggested.
Elaine winced at his crude remark. "I suppose so."
"I'll take a look around downstairs and check in with Flatt. Let him know what's going on here."
She nodded, her thoughts distracted by the two paramedics futilely attempting to get a response from the victim.
After giving the bathroom another once-over, she moved to the bedroom. Though she felt confident the doctor hadn't ventured all the way into that part of the master suite before getting into the shower, since they hadn't seen him from the street and the main part of the room faced that very street.
"Jentzen!"
Elaine stilled, listened over the music she'd somehow successfully blocked for the past few minutes.
"I'm gonna need a little help down here! Can you hear me? Jentzen!"
She followed the sound of Henshaw's voice back into the upstairs hall. "Where are you?" Had he found something relevant to the missing Avery children? If only they could be that lucky.
"Down here!"
At the top of the stairs she hesitated, her breath caught at what she saw lying in an awkward sprawl at the bottom.
Her new partner.
Elaine paced the length of the E.R. lobby waiting for word on her partner. Flatt had arrived within minutes of her call to take over the scene at the Grider residence while she followed the ambulance loaded with both Grider's body and Henshaw.
Grider had been pronounced DOA. At this point, even being dead didn't change his status as a suspect — an individual of interest at the very least — in the case of the missing Avery children.
Henshaw had a broken femur. He'd grunted and said something to the effect that he was getting too old for this crap, but Elaine knew he was seriously frustrated. This injury would take him out of the investigation and he desperately wanted to get the perp in this case.
The possibility that the Avery children had been abducted by the same perp as those lost in the Cradle Snatcher case three years ago greatly influenced Henshaw's desperation. He wanted — needed — a second chance to get the bastard. That failure still haunted him. She'd seen the ghost of that horrendous burden in her partner's eyes more than once as they'd discussed issues on the current case. But a broken femur could be lethal business considering the possibility of extreme blood loss.
If all went well then he could hopefully consult. She needed him. Elaine glanced at the clock on the sterile white wall. Almost midnight. Damn. If the Avery kidnapping played out the way they suspected it would, a ransom demand would come in the next twenty-four hours. By then it would likely be too late to save the children. A new flood of apprehension swelled like a tidal wave and washed over her. Time was swiftly running out.
"How's Henshaw?"
Elaine turned around at the deep sound of Chief Dugan's voice. She blinked and instantly pushed away the feelings that always shimmered to life inside her whenever he was near. She had to get a handle on that reaction. From day one she'd been telling herself it was about respect and admiration, but with each day that passed it felt more like something else. Something completely off-limits.
"Broken femur. He'll be down for several weeks." She suddenly felt the full weight of that burden she'd sensed haunting Henshaw. They had nothing. Absolutely nothing. How could she possibly hope to save the Avery children when she didn't have the first clue as to the identity of their kidnapper?
They'd just lost a primary avenue of investigation, one connected to the current case as well as the Cradle Snatcher case. Even if Dr. Grider had an airtight alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the abduction, the fact that he'd treated the Avery children, as their pediatrician, definitely made him an individual of prime interest to the case. Now he was dead and even though they could still investigate his past actions, they couldn't interrogate him, couldn't use any leverage to get him to talk — if he knew anything to tell. Anything he had or hadn't known would go to the grave with him.
Bottom line: They had no more now than they'd had when the call came in about the missing Avery children scarcely more than 24 hours ago.
Failure loomed like a given. Elaine felt sick with the ever-increasing likelihood. The most they could hope for at this point was that in making the ransom demand, or at the scene of the drop, the perp would make a mistake. But he hadn't three years ago. He hadn't made even one misstep.
What if he didn't this time? What if Henshaw's plan didn't work? Worse, or perhaps not, what if it wasn't even the same perpetrator?
For the first time since she'd started her new career as a homicide detective, Elaine felt utterly incapable of making a difference. Her entire life she had been a gung-ho go-getter. She'd done whatever it took to make things happen. Never let anyone or anything get in her way. What if she simply couldn't do that this time? And this time it mattered more than it had any other time in her life.
"You holding up all right?" the chief asked gently.
She let herself look into those caring eyes, knowing a part of her would react on a wholly primitive level as she did. This was so not a good idea.
Elaine steeled herself against the purely personal and utterly selfish need. She had a job to do. Those children and their family were counting on Atlanta PD. This was her case. The chief himself had asked that she and her partner focus solely on getting this done. Her partner was down for the count, she had to make this happen. By God, she would not falter now. A rush of determination solidified her resolve. "I'm fine," she said resolutely.
John Dugan nodded and that simple gesture drew her gaze to his face in spite of her brand-new resolution to stay completely unaffected. The stubble on his jaw only served to make him look more appealing. His tie hung loosely around his throat and the top button of his blue shirt had been left open. She would bet he'd still been at his office. No one was getting any rest right now… No one would until they caught this son of a bitch.
Maybe, just maybe, there was still a possibility that Henshaw's plan would garner the desired effect. In retrospect, she supposed there was even a chance that Grider's death was somehow a part of what Henshaw had set in motion. She felt a zing of anticipation and her instincts started to vibrate, sending an urgency through her.
She needed to go back to the doctor's house. To review what the techs had found. As soon as she got an update on Henshaw, she would call Flatt. She would make this happen. Whatever sicko was behind the threat to the Avery children, she would find him.
"You look exhausted, Jentzen," the chief said, drawing her back to the here and now.
Her gaze abruptly narrowed and irritation flared. Was he looking for weakness? Uncertain of her ability to hold up under pressure? Did he think she couldn't do this without her more experienced male partner? Before she could analyze the concept or demand an answer to that very question, someone called her name.
Elaine turned to find the doctor who'd taken over Henshaw's care from the paramedics. "How's Henshaw?"
"He's resting," said Dr. Stewart. Elaine remembered him as the doc who'd patched up her brothers from time to time, when one or the other had broken a bone or just his pride. "He's medicated and we'll be admitting him for observation. His wife is going to stay with him. Do you need to see him before we send him up to the fourth floor?" He glanced from Elaine to the chief.
Before she could speak, the chief said, "That's all right. He needs his rest. Detective Jentzen will catch up with him in the morning."
When the doctor had disappeared beyond the double doors marked "Employees Only," she turned to Dugan. That flare of irritation had morphed into anger. "I would have liked to see him," she said frankly, more so than she probably should have.
It was the first time she'd gotten annoyed at her new boss. Maybe saying as much wasn't a good idea but she was tired. Too tired to be polite. And being pissed at him was a hell of a lot safer than those other feelings she appeared to have such a hard time staving off.
Chief Dugan reached out before she could fathom his intent and squeezed her arm, causing electricity to crackle along every nerve ending in her body. Stunned at the intensity of the connection, she let her arm fall away from his touch, silently berating herself. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Where the hell was that anger now?
"You're exhausted, Jentzen, let me take you home."
She'd followed the ambulance in Henshaw's car. Her Jeep was at home. She could use a ride. His offer made complete sense. But nothing else that had occurred in the past few minutes did. She was smarter than this. Way more professional. Since when did she swoon over any guy? She had never allowed her personal needs to override the focus of her career. She sure as hell wasn't about to start now.
Elaine squared her shoulders and kicked the frustrating thoughts out of her head. "Sure," she told him. "I could use a ride."
One way or another, she would learn to maintain her composure in his presence. She couldn't keep letting the neglected woman in her make an appearance each time he spoke to her, or touched her in the most innocent of ways. He was her boss. Remembering that essential fact had to be priority, right behind getting the job done.
The ride to her modest little home in a small neighborhood — not so far from Buckhead in distance, but a whole universe apart in dollar value — didn't take that long. Traffic was minimal and the chief seemed to know the best route to take.
Elaine couldn't help stealing glimpses of him through the darkness, but just now it wasn't about that infernal attraction. It was about the man himself. The outstanding leader she'd heard lore about from her father and brothers. The cover of night allowed her to do what she'd wanted to since the first time she and the chief had met — try to figure him out. The lights from the street lamps and the occasional flickering neon sign gave her ample illumination to do so. Based on his longevity on the force, he had to be forty, but he looked a decade younger and incredibly capable.
She couldn't help wondering what had gone wrong between him and his wife. No kids, she'd heard. That made her wonder, as well. Did they not want children or was there some reason they couldn't have any? Were children the source of their discord or had it been his work ethic? Everything she'd learned about him indicated he worked day and night if necessary. Dedicated and determined. Maybe those traits didn't follow through to his personal life.
Not that she could stand in judgment of him on that score. God knew she had always put work first, even back in high school. To her way of thinking, a husband and kids could come later…much later. There was too much she wanted to do with her career between now and then.
"I'm not that complicated, Jentzen," he said, snapping her from the worrisome thoughts.
Heat rushed up her neck and across her cheeks. God, she must be tired to let him catch her staring that way. "Sorry," she muttered. "I was just lost in thought."
"We didn't have anything in common," he said in answer to her unspoken questions.
She straightened, faced front, absolutely mortified that she'd been so transparent. How could he know what she'd been thinking?
"Excuse me?" She tried her level best to infuse surprise into her voice.
"My marriage," he said as he glanced toward her. "She was completely focused on developing and expanding her real-estate career and I was dedicated to my own work. We never saw each other."
He shrugged those broad shoulders ever so slightly. Elaine knew this because her eyes were once more glued to him. She cursed herself for the weakness, but there was no denying it.
"I can't blame her for finding someone else," he went on. "Our careers took us in different directions. She preferred her world, and the job is my mistress." He exhaled in finality. "I guess the fact that I don't regret the divorce doesn't say much for me as a husband."
For a moment, Elaine told herself that they couldn't really be having this conversation. He was the chief…her boss …his relationship with his ex-wife was personal — dangerous territory.
"That's too bad," she managed to get out despite the dryness of her throat.
"That's life," he said, not sounding quite as nonchalant as the words would have him seem. Maybe he had one or two regrets, after all.
When he'd parked in her drive and turned off the engine, she tacked a neutral expression into place. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see that Henshaw's car gets back to his house tomorrow." She started to get out but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Elaine held her breath, tried to slow her traitorously racing heart.
"I guess you'll be working on your own for a while," he said. "Flatt can give you backup when you need it. I don't want you going off on your own. Focus on what you can glean from the facts and reports. But don't try flying solo, Jentzen. I know some of the guys are giving you a hard time right now, but it'll calm down once the novelty of having a female around wears off. Anyone crosses the line, all you have to do is let me know."
There he went again, trying to make things easy for her. "I appreciate your support, Chief," she said crisply, "but I can take care of myself."
One corner of his mouth lifted into a grudging smile. "I have no doubt."
"Then we're clear." She reached for the door handle. Perfect. Here she was waffling between wanting to jump the guy's bones and committing insubordination. Great way to start off her career in homicide.
Before she got the door opened and made her hasty retreat, the chief stopped her once more. "Good night, Jentzen."
He didn't touch her this time but the way his eyes held hers proved even more powerful, and in that infinitesimal moment she understood something that put a whole new spin on the gravity of the situation. She wasn't in this battle alone.
The realization gave her absolutely no comfort.
"Good night." With that said she got out of his car and strode up her walk without looking back. By the time she'd gotten inside, closed and locked the door behind her, he'd backed out of her drive and driven away.
She sagged against the door and let go a heavy breath. Maybe she'd misread that look he'd given her. No. She knew desire when she saw it. Had read the intensity of his need as clearly as she'd felt her own.
"Dammit." She scrubbed her hands over her face and pushed off the door. Confronting and working through whatever the hell was going on between them would just have to wait. This case, those children, definitely couldn't. Right now, she had to touch base with Flatt.
As if God had decided to step in and make at least one thing easy for her, her cell phone rang. She fished for it in her purse, anticipation instantly replacing any exhaustion she'd felt seconds before. "Jentzen."
"Jentzen, I've got an update from the lab that you need to be aware of."
Flatt. Just the guy she wanted to talk to. She frowned. What could he possibly have back from the lab on such a short turnaround?
"What'd you find?"
"I put a rush on the wine bottle and the glass recovered from Grider's bathroom."
Elaine stalled. "Yeah?"
"The small amount of wine left in the glass contained enough nitroglycerine to give an elephant a heart attack. It was in the bottle, too. Whoever did this knew his routine well enough to know he would have a glass of wine when he came home. Even knew he'd pick white over red."
"Thanks, Flatt, I'm on my way in."
Elaine closed her phone and dropped it back into her bag. Perhaps Dr. Grider's murder was unrelated, and clearly the man had been murdered. But it seemed too coincidental that the Avery children's pediatrician would be murdered only a few hours after word that the police had a material witness in the case hit the streets.
Maybe, just maybe, they had their first break.
Ronald Grider's soon-to-be ex-wife was now a suspect in his murder as well as in the Avery case.
But Felicia Grider was nowhere to be found. A search warrant for her current residence, as well as the doctor's, had been obtained without delay or hesitation on the judge's part. Executing the warrant, Elaine and Flatt had found the downtown loft Mrs. Grider had taken when she and the doctor separated, deserted. The bed hadn't been slept in recently, and most of the contents of the refrigerator were out of date. No one at any of the galleries she owned had seen her in two days.
According to court documents, Dr. Grider's high-society wife had either turned violent the past few months of their marriage, or she always had been but he'd simply opted not to report her. Most men didn't want to admit when they were on the receiving end of the abuse. Grider had taken legal steps to keep her away from him and his home. His personal attorney had indicated that the two had kept their finances separate, and of late that had proven a problem for Mrs. Grider. Her husband had refused to relent on that, as well as numerous other issues, and had finally filed for divorce.
With an ironclad prenuptial agreement in place, he'd had everything to gain and she'd had everything to lose. Plenty of motivation for murder. The question was, did it have anything to do with the missing Avery children?
Since Flatt and Jillette, as well as several more detectives, were already working various other aspects of the case, the chief had asked Elaine to pursue the Grider connection. She was to tail Felicia Grider, watch her every move. That suited Elaine just fine. If she could trust her instincts, and she'd always been able to in the past, she was on the right track. Her gut told her that Henshaw's plan had paid off, had forced a reaction. If only this would be the break they needed to save those children.
Ronald Grider's house had been searched by Detective Jillette as well as gone over by the forensics techs. The chief had ordered the place torn apart, no holds barred. If there was any chance Grider had anything to do with the missing children, past or present, Chief Dugan wanted to know ASAP.
Unable to locate the wife immediately, Elaine had dug into the woman's recent activities. If the doctor and his wife kept their finances separate, where did she get her funds for developing her love of the arts and those swanky galleries?
On the surface Felicia Grider's finances looked to be on the up and up, but upon closer inspection Elaine learned that not all the investors she listed actually invested in her cultural ventures. So, where had the money come from?
The forensics techs hadn't found anything relevant to the Cradle Snatcher case, the missing Avery children or Grider's murder in his home or in Mrs. Grider's downtown loft, but Elaine still felt they were on to something.
She glanced at her watch. Damn. Only 12 hours until the end of the first 48. If this case played out like before, the call for a ransom would come in and then everything would go to hell in a hurry and there would be no saving the children.
Elaine prayed that her instincts about the Griders would be on target. Dr. Grider's murder had to be part of this case somehow.… All she had to do was find the connection. The fastest way to do that was to locate Mrs. Grider. If Elaine had her guess, she would show up at the lawyer's office to learn what she stood to inherit as a widow rather than a divorcée. Not to mention she had to know she would be a suspect. Surely, she would want to solicit proper representation.
Two hours after Elaine staked out the attorney's suite of offices, Felicia Grider showed — obviously in disguise, considering the big hat and frumpy suit. Elaine waited in her Jeep. She wasn't particularly interested in what the attorney had to say.
What she wanted was to follow the grieving widow when she left. If she wasn't going home to her loft lately, where was she going? To an illicit lover? And what kind of alibi did she have for last night? She had to realize the cops were looking for her right now.
For that matter, the morning news had mentioned that the wife was needed for questioning. The chief himself had called the Grider attorney and made it clear that Atlanta PD wanted to question her.
Elaine watched as the woman stole from her Bentley and hurried to the side entrance of the legal firm. Another woman greeted her and ushered her inside. There was the possibility that she would discuss her rights with her lawyer, but Elaine wasn't worried about that, either. She believed the woman had killed her husband, the question was why.
The money most likely, but was that the only reason? Had she embezzled funds from her husband in the recent past to further her business pursuits? Or had she gained access to the money via some other means? Like through those children who'd gone missing three years ago. Elaine shivered at the thought. How could any woman kidnap and murder children? But Elaine knew that both men and women committed heinous crimes every day.
The idea wasn't really such a stretch. Elaine had thoroughly reviewed the woman's background. She'd been one of Ronald Grider's nurses before becoming his lover and then his wife. After the marriage she had turned socialite to the max. Grider hadn't appeared to mind. In Elaine's experience most doctors wanted their wives to play the social circuit, especially the proverbial trophy wife. Felicia Grider fit the bill — 15 years younger than the good doctor and with a model-perfect figure and the star-quality face to go with it.
But did any of that make her a killer? Or a kidnapper? At any rate, Elaine would see that Mrs. Grider was brought in for questioning in connection with her husband's murder.
Elaine had started to get restless by the time Felicia Grider exited the attorney's office and hurriedly got back into a Bentley borrowed from a local dealership, according to what Elaine had learned when she ran the plates.
If the lady had nothing to hide, why was she sneaking around in a borrowed car? And she was definitely sneaking. If Elaine hadn't been suspicious, she would have been after watching the woman's nervous behavior. She was seriously worried about something.
Elaine eased out onto the street but was careful to stay several car lengths behind her target.
Felicia Grider took the ramp onto Interstate 85 and headed north. Elaine considered calling in and letting Chief Dugan know her location, but she decided to wait. Maybe it was because she didn't have anything to pass along, other than that gut feeling. The woman could be going to a relative's.
Forty minutes later Felicia Grider took an exit for Buford. She drove straight to the Mall of Georgia and parked in the massive lot amid a sea of cars.
Elaine parked her Jeep and got out, careful to keep a close eye on her target so as not to lose her in the crowd. This time she had no choice but to make the call. She was not only way out of her jurisdiction, it just didn't feel right to keep the chief out of the loop any longer. She couldn't be sure what her target was up to, but dropping off radar for this long was not standard protocol.
As Elaine moved past the mammoth horse statues and through the main entrance to the mall she put through the call. Felicia Grider headed straight into the food court.
The chief's secretary came on the line, snagging part of Elaine's attention. "This is Detective Jentzen," she explained, "I need to speak with Chief Dugan."
He was in a meeting with the mayor. Couldn't be interrupted.
Elaine swore silently. "Could you give him a message when he comes back in?" When the secretary agreed, Elaine gave her location and her target. "Have him call me on my cell," she urged.
After setting her phone to vibrate only, Elaine settled into a chair at a table as close as she dared to her target. She mentally ticked off the physical description of the man who had joined Felicia Grider at her table.
The two immediately began to argue fiercely, but quietly. Elaine didn't have to hear their words; she watched their evolving expressions and body language. Felicia was royally pissed at the stranger. The stranger looked belligerent and impatient.
Still ranting in a hushed voice, Felicia abruptly rocketed to her feet. The man jumped up, grabbed Felicia by the arm and started dragging her away from the dining area.
Taking care not to get too close, Elaine followed. The two entered the corridor leading to the public restrooms. Elaine had no idea how this man was involved with the new widow, but it was her job to find out. Whatever Felicia Grider was up to, Elaine needed to know every sordid detail.
She prayed she wasn't wasting valuable time. The chief had assigned her to Mrs. Grider, but would tailing the woman provide any insight into where the Avery children were being held? Did Grider's murder even have anything to do with the abduction? Those were the questions burning in Elaine's gut just now.
The couple disappeared into the men's room and Elaine moved into the corridor but hesitated before taking the next step. If she pushed through the door and either one of her targets spotted her the jig would be up. She'd have no choice but to try and detain them. She had nothing on the guy, but Felicia was wanted for questioning in connection to her husband's murder.
Elaine didn't want to have to go that route. Anywhere these two might have led her…any clues they might have revealed relevant to Grider's murder or the missing children, would be gone. A missed opportunity.
Elaine took a deep breath and eased closer to the door. She could hear their muffled voices. She pushed inward just far enough to see inside through the narrow crack she'd made. Felicia and her friend had moved deeper into the men's room, out of visual range. Putting one hand on her weapon, Elaine edged in through the door. She held on to make sure it closed slowly behind her to lessen the whoosh.
"You son of a bitch, you told me —"
Felicia's words ended abruptly.
Elaine unholstered her weapon and moved to the edge of the wall that stood between her and the row of toilet stalls and the feuding couple. When silence continued to reign, she risked a peak around the corner.
Felicia and her man had moved into a stall and, considering the rasp of fabric against flesh and the gasps of anticipation, had gone from fighting to making out.
Elaine surveyed the other stalls to make sure no one else was in the bathroom, then she took off her shoes and slipped into the one next to the couple. They were making enough noise and were apparently distracted sufficiently not to notice.
Just in case, she eased up onto the toilet seat and crouched there so her feet wouldn't be visible beneath the privacy enclosure. Listening to the two going at each other was not on her agenda but if, in the throws of passion, one or the other said something important, she needed to hear it.
"What am I supposed to do?" Felicia asked between pants for air and hungry-sounding kisses. "The police are looking for me!"
"I've got everything under control," the man assured her, his own words broken by the intermittent meeting of their mouths. "Just stay cool. We both knew this would happen. You gotta stick to the plan. You shouldn't have called me," he warned sternly.
The distinct snap of a palm connecting with a jaw sliced the ensuing silence. "Don't you dare talk to me that way," Felicia snarled. "This plan was —"
Whatever she'd intended to say was muted. Elaine couldn't help leaning closer to the barrier that separated them in hopes of hearing some vital piece of information.
The clatter of metal on tile jerked Elaine's gaze downward. A handgun, black, 9mm, lay on the floor just inside her stall.
She held perfectly still…didn't even breathe…as she watched a male hand dart beyond the metal wall and snatch up the weapon.
When Felicia's muffled sounds of ecstasy and the distinct smell of sex slipped over and beneath the metal barrier separating them, Elaine finally allowed herself to take a shallow breath.
After what seemed like forever, the two had finished. Elaine heard the man say, his breath ragged, "Answer their questions just like we talked about, baby. That's all you have to do."
"But I don't know if I can do it," Felicia whined breathlessly.
"Screw this up," he growled, his tone lethal, threatening, "and you won't be free to worry about the consequences. Go to the police and tell them you've been out of town. That you just heard. Do it now."
Elaine chose that moment to make her exit, using Felicia's hateful retort as cover. With her shoes in her hand, Elaine eased out of the stall and across the room. She needed to be outside in the food court when the two emerged.
Backup wouldn't be necessary. She knew who she had to tail from here.
"Where the hell are you?"
The chief wasn't too happy that Elaine had decided to tail a suspect without backup.
"On 85 headed back to Atlanta." She'd called in the license plate of the vehicle driven by the man Felicia Grider had met at the food court. His name was Lex Adams, thirty-four with a south Atlanta address. He had a rap sheet long enough to mark him as a habitual offender. Misdemeanors mostly. But there were two assault charges for which he'd done a little time. More importantly, there was an outstanding warrant for him on a recent charge of malicious vandalizing.
"I'm on my way," Chief Dugan said. "Don't make a move on this guy without backup, Jentzen, you got that?"
The idea that the chief would even think of coming to her rescue screamed loudly of one thing — he thought she couldn't do this. Frustration welled in her chest. "I can do this, Chief!"
Dammit. Why give her the position if he didn't feel she could handle the risks involved? Irritation immediately replaced the frustration. Had she been assigned to homicide just to prove Atlanta PD was playing fair? She'd heard the talk. Was she just a necessary quota? The token female in a men's club?
"You just keep feeding directions to me," he said firmly, not bothering to respond to her comment.
She watched Adams move into the right lane. "I'm sure you have other things to do," she said to Dugan. "Isn't there someone else you'd rather send?"
"I'd just left the mayor's office when you called," he countered. "Why take any of my detectives off their assignments when I'm out, anyway?"
Elaine resisted the impulse to sigh. He didn't get what she meant, probably never would. She'd grown up with three brothers. Men could be so overprotective. She was no helpless female. She could handle this.
But there was no getting past what southern mothers had drilled into their boys for centuries. Take care of the women in their lives.
She tried to calm down as he brought her up to speed on the Grider murder. Felicia had been picked up when she'd arrived in Atlanta. No surprise there. She'd intended to turn herself in, that's why Elaine had chosen to follow Adams.
Flatt was questioning Mrs. Grider now. As a nurse, she would certainly be well aware of how much of the drug it would take to send her husband into cardiac arrest. What she stood to inherit as the widow was more than enough motive. More importantly to Elaine, she had access to the files of her husband's patients, which included the victims of both the Cradle Snatcher case and the current one.
As Elaine continued to feed the chief directions, they realized Adams was likely heading to his house — the address they had listed for him was in the same vicinity.
"I'll meet you there. If you get there before me, stay in your vehicle until I arrive," Dugan instructed.
Twenty minutes later, Adams indeed pulled into the driveway of a run-down duplex listed as his place of residence. He climbed out of his junker and sauntered across the shaggy yard, pausing long enough to adjust himself. He then stomped across the porch and through the door.
Elaine parked on the opposite side of the street, two houses down. The chief's sedan was already on site, but he wasn't inside. He must have taken a position at the back of the house.
Elaine slid from her Jeep and walked down the sidewalk as if she lived in the neighborhood. In case anyone was watching, she moved up the cracked walk of the duplex next door to Lex Adams's run-down dump.
Taking the guy in on a misdemeanor charge would work, maybe even give them a starting place for a warrant. She really had no idea who Lex Adams was, but her instincts were buzzing. This guy was connected somehow. So was Mrs. Grider.
Anticipation burning through her veins, she moved to the back of the neighboring duplex and checked out Chief Dugan's position. If Adams came out his back door, he and the chief would meet face-to-face.
Dugan gave her a nod, which meant join him if she felt she could. Since it wasn't dark yet, going across the miniscule, unmanicured yard would leave her an open target.
She checked left, right, then made the necessary dash. When she flattened against the rear of the house beside him, Chief Dugan whispered, "He's been talking on the phone. Whoever's on the other end hasn't made him too happy."
Elaine leaned closer, held her breath to keep from inhaling the scent of Dugan's aftershave. She enjoyed it entirely too much. "You think we should try bringing him in?"
Though there was no mention of a Lex Adams in the Cradle Snatcher case, that didn't rule him out. He could have played a part behind the scenes. And Elaine realized she may have been grasping at straws.
"Based on what you overhead in that bathroom, I'd say he's connected to Grider's murder at the very least. We can haul him in on the outstanding warrant and take it from there."
She nodded. Sounded like a reasonable plan.
She couldn't help thinking that if her partner hadn't fallen down that staircase he would be here with her right now. That the chief of homicide had chosen to stand in for him felt off somehow, but now wasn't the time to analyze the idea. Maybe he wasn't completely sure she was cut out for homicide. Maybe he was grading her skill level.
Well, she'd just have to show him how good she was.
He leaned closer. "Take the front. When he makes a run for it, I'll intercept."
A shiver raced over her skin when his breath whispered across her cheek. She nodded to let him know she understood his instructions, trying her best to mask the feelings she was sure he could see, despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. He watched her with an intensity that she wasn't able to place. Then she started to turn away.
He stopped her when she would have moved to the corner of the house. "When this is over," he murmured, "I think we need to talk."
Her gaze collided with his and she didn't miss the longing there. She'd been right — she wasn't the only one experiencing this forbidden attraction. She nodded again then turned away.
Whatever was happening between her and the chief had to wait.
She progressed around the corner of the house, ducked beneath a window and then cautiously climbed onto the porch.
Lex Adams was still yelling at someone on the phone. Whatever their business, he wasn't a happy camper.
Elaine moved up next to the door and adopted a defensive stance. "Lex Adams! Police! Open up!"
She heard the phone hit the floor.
The scramble of feet let her know he'd decided to make a run for it.
A quick check of the door revealed it was locked. She reared back and landed a swift kick just above the doorknob and it flew open. She knew it didn't always work so well in real life but this house was old.
A shot whizzed past her ear. She dodged another. "Drop it, Adams!" she warned. Damn, she didn't want to have to shoot the guy. She needed him alive and talking!
She swung around the corner of the kitchen door just in time to see him fly out the back door.
More shots were fired.
It was the silence that followed that sent dread roiling through her stomach. By the time she reached the back door the chief was crouched next to Adams's unmoving body. Elaine felt her hopes plummet when their gazes met and the chief gave a curt shake of his head.
Whatever Adams had known had just gone to hell with him.
Elaine stayed behind when Chief Dugan left for the 5:00 p.m. briefing at the station. He promised to give her an update later. For now she had her hands full going over the place Lex Adams had called home with the forensics techs.
The small three-room duplex spoke volumes about the tenant who lived there. Lex Adams didn't care much about anything. If he had any relatives, none had been located as yet and there were no photos of friends or family. Two officers were canvassing the neighborhood to see what they could learn about him and his recent activities.
The kitchen was filthy and woefully under stocked. The guy clearly never ate at home. The front room that served as a living room was furnished with a couple of ragged chairs and a sofa he'd likely retrieved from the street on trash pickup day. Stacks of newspapers and magazines were the only items that gave any clues as to his likes and dislikes — plenty of porn as well as a current subscription to every newspaper the city offered.
He had cable TV and the channel was set on a popular local news station. A few music CDs, along with an empty pizza box and a couple of Chinese take-out containers cluttered the top of the only table in the room.
Elaine resumed her scrutiny in the bedroom. A small bathroom and a closet took up part of the space as if they'd been added sometime after the original structure had been erected.
Unmade bed. Soiled linens and two or three piles of discarded clothing. One dresser that held a few items like briefs and socks, but nothing else.
Not a single picture, not even a snapshot. Nothing in the whole place that would ID him or give away his personality. Well, aside from the porn magazines, anyway.
The dinky bathroom provided even less. A toothbrush and a razor he evidently never used. Generic soap and shampoo occupied the tub's edge. A couple of dirty towels littered the floor.
Her cell phone vibrated and she fished it out of her pocket. "Jentzen."
"Felicia Grider still isn't talking," Chief Dugan said. "She swears she has never heard of Lex Adams but she was visibly shaken when I told her he was dead."
Sounded like Dugan had had himself a heart-to-heart with the lady.
"Did Flatt find any connection between Adams and the families who'd lost children?"
"Just one — the Averys. He did a little yard work for them back in the early part of the summer. Mr. Avery hadn't remembered him until I showed him the mug shot."
Elaine's tension ratcheted up a notch. "So Adams knew the property?"
Along with the anticipation came more of that churning dread. If Adams was the one, then any hope of finding the children was pretty much over.
"But the Averys haven't seen him in months. That's why Mr. Avery didn't remember."
Elaine felt sick to her stomach. "But he would have known the property. The dog."
Dammit, that's why the mutt had taken the drug bait! She wondered vaguely what the hell good the animals were if they could be fooled so easily. Just like humans, she mused. Always believing the best in people until something ugly proved otherwise. But then, wasn't this country's legal system based on that very logic?
"You got it. Let me know if you find anything there."
Elaine closed her phone, remembered to set it back to ring, then dropped it into her bag. Her world lapsed into slow motion as the importance of the chief's words hit her all over again.
Adams had access…knew the family pet and was intimately involved with the pediatrician's wife, who had quite possibly murdered her husband.
This had to be about the missing children. She considered the time and realized that if this case played out as the Cradle Snatcher M.O. had, the ransom demand would come in soon.
But who would make it? If, as she hoped, Adams was involved, both he and Grider were dead. Grider's wife was in custody. There had to be someone else.… Just maybe that someone else would connect the Avery case to the three-year-old one still marring Atlanta PD's record. That part was likely wishful thinking. She wanted desperately to solve both cases…to bring down those responsible for the devastation. To reach Christina and Scotty Avery before it was too late.
Elaine's stomach took a dive. If no call came in that would mean they'd gotten their perp in the Avery case all right, but how would they ever find where the children were hidden? The thought of those two innocent kids starving to death in some hidden prison ripped at her heart. She had to find them.
With enforced determination, Elaine retraced her steps. Went through each of the three rooms again. More slowly, more carefully.
She had to have missed something.
The techs were busy lifting prints from every available surface. That could help, but not necessarily in time. There could be dozens of different prints and the owners of said prints might not be in the databases.
When she'd satisfied herself that there was nothing in the house, she moved to the car. The vehicle had already been dusted for prints, but the techs had held off on anything else since it would be simpler to relocate it to the lab and do what needed to be done there.
Since it was almost dark, Elaine used her flashlight to make sure she didn't miss anything. The interior was fairly clean considering the way the guy lived. The glove box divulged nothing useful, nor did the console. Trash and spare change were all she found under the seats.
The trunk, however, was a different story.
Anticipation roared through her when she opened it and the dim interior light blinked to life.
Blankets. She shuffled them aside and her heart rushed into her throat.
A shoe.
Just one little pink and white sneaker beneath the two blankets. She recognized the sneaker immediately.
Scrambling down onto her knees she took a look under the car's chassis. Mud. A clump of long-bladed grass. Wherever he'd been taking the vehicle, she noted, it was off the paved streets of the city.
Elaine ushered one of the techs back to the car. "Check this trunk. If there's a single hair in there I want to know if it matches the Avery children's."
She distinctly remembered the brush in the little girl's bedroom. Mrs. Avery wouldn't have changed the bedsheets, which would provide a source, as well. There would be sufficient samples with which to compare.
Next, Elaine punched in the chief's number and as soon as he answered she blurted, "Remember those pink and white sneakers Mrs. Avery told us about? The ones her little girl begged for? I'm holding one of them in my hand. It was in the truck of Lex Adams's car."
The silence on the other end of the line sent a whole new jolt of uneasiness spearing through Elaine.
"The Averys just received the ransom demand. There's a third party, Jentzen. He may have killed the children already."
There wasn't time to go through the normal channels. Discussing her plans with the chief would only waste that valuable commodity. But the one person she could discuss the issue with and not worry about interference from was her partner.
"You know if they catch you in here after visiting hours they'll kick you out," Henshaw had teased when she first arrived in his private hospital room at 10:30 p.m. His tone had turned grave since then.
"That could work," he admitted, after attentively listening to her plan. "All you need is the court order to make it happen."
Therein lay the crux of her problem.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Elaine lifted a plastic evidence bag from her purse. "Or someone who knows how to do it," she suggested.
Henshaw eyed the cell phone belonging to Lex Adams Elaine had lifted from evidence. "That could cost you your shield, Jentzen."
She nodded. "I know, but I can't wait for some judge to be dragged out of bed and for all the right officials to give us the necessary priority. You know the deal. Those kids could be dead already."
Henshaw heaved a sigh and tugged the plain white, utilitarian sheet farther up his chest. "You got somebody in mind?"
Elaine shrugged. "No. I was hoping you could help with that part. You've been in this business long enough to know who does what in this city." Elaine held her breath, praying her new partner would see this her way. "I won't tell anyone you helped me," she added hastily. "I'll take full responsibility."
"Like hell," he muttered. "Go see Joe Lowder." He rattled off the address. "He'll know what to do. He owes me a favor."
She considered the address — not such a great side of town but what did one expect when looking for someone willing to break at least three Federal laws? "You think he'll mind being rousted out of bed?"
Henshaw chuckled. "You kidding? The guy never sleeps. Besides, he'll just be glad to square himself with me."
Fighting off the fatigue of no sleep in nearly 48 hours, Elaine drove across town. She saw right away that her partner had been right. Judging by the number of vehicles parked outside Mr. Lowder's low-rent digs, the party was in full swing.
What looked like your typical nightclub bouncer — a guy at least 6'4" and weighing in the neighborhood of 300 pounds — met her at the door and then disappeared inside when she demanded to see Lowder.
A few minutes later, a man she assumed to be Lowder appeared. "What do you want?" he demanded, in spite of the fact that she had flashed her badge.
"Hank Henshaw said you could help me with a little problem."
Lowder shrugged his silk-clad shoulders and heaved a put-upon sigh. "Come on in." He stepped back and allowed her entrance.
However crummy the neighborhood, Mr. Lowder was extravagantly dressed and his home was furnished with the same exquisite taste. She followed him to what he called his office but was, in fact, a huge computer room. The place looked like what the Pentagon's war room likely did.
She tried her best not to look impressed, but was sure she failed miserably. The ease with which Henshaw's name got her inside surprised her. But then again, the stodgy old detective had been in the business a hell of a long time. He likely had contacts all over this city.
She explained the situation as quickly as she could.
"Let me see the phone." Lowder held out his hand and Elaine placed the confiscated cell phone there. "When I've given you what you want, you tell Henshaw that we're even. I don't want to see his ugly mug ever again."
Lowder turned to one of the many computers occupying the room. With incredible speed, he tapped away on his keyboard. On the screen, Elaine noted what appeared to be a wireless service provider's database. Was he hacking in? She couldn't be sure, but within minutes — and utilizing technology she'd only seen in movies — Lowder had provided a list of exact locations from which Adams had made cell-phone calls in the last three months.
She was fairly certain whatever Lowder had done was illegal, but she just didn't care. All she wanted was to find those children.
Elaine thanked her reluctant ally and headed for the one place on the list that fit perfectly with what she knew about where the children were being held — off the beaten path. Some place muddy with knee-deep grass.
Just ten minutes off 285, where land developers were nourishing the growth of suburbia, one large wooded area remained untouched as of yet. Partially demolished relics stood here and there like crumbling tombstones marking the demise of the past. Knee-deep weeds had overtaken what had once been postage-stamp-sized lawns. The pavement of driveways and neighborhood streets had long ago given way in places to the forces of nature, leaving dirt and, of course, mud from the last rain.
Lex Adams had made seven phone calls in the last three days to somewhere in this locale. The wireless service provider's database couldn't provide an exact address with house number, but the general vicinity was good enough.
Elaine parked her Jeep at the main road, well away from the turnoff. She hiked the rest of the way. The prickly sensation on the back of her neck warned that she should have already called for backup, but the more logical side of her wanted to confirm her suspicions.
As the new kid in the homicide division, she didn't want to look stupid. If her hunch was wrong, then no one but Henshaw ever needed to know.
But she wasn't wrong. She could feel the energy flowing already. She was close. Very close.
A dim light in the distance drew her in that direction. There was no electricity out here at this time since development hadn't actually started, so she had to assume someone was using a generator.
As she neared the dilapidated house the sound, similar to that of a fairly quiet lawn mower, confirmed her suspicion.
She took a moment, several deep breaths, and reached for calm. Then, with her weapon in hand, she moved closer to the house until she'd flattened against its rotting wood siding. A peek into the only available window gave her a heads-up on what she was up against.
One man hovered near the only light in the room, his attention focused on a small television. The local news. He wore a rifle slung over his shoulder by a strap. He looked to be about the same age as Adams, but she couldn't be certain.
Careful of the weeds beneath her feet, she made her way to another window. The room was dark. Her heart beat so hard she feared the man inside would hear it.
Taking her time, she picked away the jagged remains of the broken window's lower sash. She bit her lip when the sharp glass sliced through a finger. Elaine wiped her hand, then pulled herself up and wiggled through the cleared lower portion of the window. The moment her feet hit the floor inside, she took a slow step but had to stop suddenly — her foot had run into something solid.
Fear slid through her veins as she reached down to identify the object.
Human.
Child.
She dropped into a crouch and felt of the small body blocking her path. Still warm. The chest moved up and down with the act of breathing. Thank God. The flood of relief almost took her breath. She felt weak with the overwhelming power of it. Though she couldn't see the child's face, she knew by touch that this was the little girl, Christina Avery.
Elaine felt around the room until she found the other child, the little boy, Scotty. Neither roused with her examination, which led her to believe they'd been drugged. She just prayed it wasn't a lethal dose. She reassured herself with the facts. Slow, steady respiration. No signs of distress.
Okay. Now she needed backup.
Elaine could hear the news in the other room, and she was banking on that cover for the call she was about to make.
The moment the chief uttered his name on the other end of the line, she murmured her location and that he should hurry. She closed the phone and shoved it back into her pocket.
Even with no traffic it would take backup fifteen to twenty minutes to arrive. She decided to lay low until then. As long as the man in the other room stayed put she was good to go. Any move she made without backup might end badly, causing him to go off the deep end and possibly hurt the children.
A cry pierced the air.
Elaine twisted just in time to make out the little boy moving, in an attempt to sit up. Her first thought was to move closer to comfort him, but the door separating this room from the other one abruptly swung open and the man she'd seen through the window towered in the doorway. He turned on the light, and in an instant the barrel of his weapon took a bead in her direction.
A bullet hissed past her head, forcing her to return fire. If a stray bullet hit one of the children…
She scrambled away from the kids, drawing his fire in a different direction.
He shot again, missing. She pulled off another round, aiming for his leg, but he moved too quickly. If she could take him alive, he would have answers they needed.
He rushed her, firing twice more in rapid cessation.
She rolled to the right, barely avoiding the first bullet and feeling the burn of the second one as it grazed her thigh. Elaine swore and took aim a split second before he leapt toward her. It was either her or him, and letting him hurt these children was out of the question. She unloaded as he flew at her.
When the bullets stopped flying, the man lay on top of her, unmoving, his arms and the weapon he'd wielded across her legs. Once Elaine had confirmed he was dead and no longer a threat, she shoved him off her and went straight to the children.
As far as she could tell both were okay. The little boy had huddled into a ball and was sobbing. The little girl was still unconscious but her respiration remained slow and steady.
As the smell of freshly spilled blood permeated the air and twisted her gut, Elaine sat in the floor and cradled the little boy in her arms. The threat had passed, but the damage was done.
These two children would never go to sleep in the dark again without fear. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and a sob tightened her chest. She cried for the sweet innocence they'd lost…for the other children who'd lost their lives to the kind of greedy predator who would sacrifice a child for money. And she cried for what she'd just lost, as well. She had been forced to kill another human being in the line of duty.
But at least the nightmare was over.
After 24 hours for treatment of dehydration and observation, the children were back home with their parents. The second man involved with the kidnapping, the one Elaine had killed, had been identified as Darryl Huffer, a long-time associate of Lex Adams. Felicia Grider had confessed to conspiring to murder her husband, though she refused to admit she'd had a hand in his death.
But the most shocking revelation had been about her dead husband. According to Felicia it was Dr. Grider who'd kidnapped and murdered those children three years ago. Of course, he hadn't carried out the actual crimes himself, she'd insisted. He'd hired help, then disposed of his hirelings when the business was done. Felicia had learned his secret when she discovered the money hidden in the house.
Grider had been too smart to keep the original money obtained from the ransom drop, as he'd known it would be marked, so he'd laundered it through an associate so he could comfortably spend it, according to Felicia. She conveniently could not remember the name of the associate.
So he'd laundered it, hidden it away and used it as he saw fit. Felicia, after discovering his treasure, had started dipping into it. He'd found out and threatened to have her killed if she didn't leave and agree to his divorce terms. Felicia, being the resourceful person she was, had decided to take care of him with his own dirty little secrets.
She'd hired Adams and the other man to kidnap the Avery children. She'd intended to pin the kidnapping on her husband, thus leading the police to him as the Cradle Snatcher, and then she would live happily-ever-after without the worry of him or his divorce threats. She insisted she'd never intended the children harm.
Elaine wasn't sure she believed Felicia's story in its entirety, but when she'd produced overwhelming evidence against her late husband there was no denying he was involved on some level.
The wife had no explanation for why her husband had done it, other than for the money, or why he'd chosen to stop, to play dead as far as his sinister side was concerned. It was possible Felicia could have been the one all along; there was just no way to know. In any case, those involved were either dead or in custody. Justice had been served.
Elaine sat in the chief's office, waiting for her official reprimand. Henshaw had warned her it was coming. He was home and mending steadily under the watchful eye of his overprotective wife. Elaine glanced at her watch. It was late, after 6:00 p.m. Most everyone else had gone home by now, but she'd had a report to finish. She doubted the chief ever got home before 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. By his own admission that was why he no longer had a home life. But who was she to judge? She didn't have one, either.
When the chief entered the office, Elaine stood. Rather than sit down behind his desk, he chose to prop one lean hip on the front, putting him way too close for her comfort. She would have preferred the desk between them. Well, okay, the professional side of her would have preferred it that way. But the woman, the side she rarely allowed to show, liked him this close.
"We don't tolerate hotdogs in this division, Jentzen," he warned, his expression stern. "We're a team. We work together or we don't work at all."
"I understand, sir." She swallowed tightly and hoped a reprimand was as far as it would go. She didn't want to be suspended…or worse. This was where she'd wanted to be for as long as she could remember.
"Detective Flatt is fit to be tied," Dugan went on. "It seems you stole his thunder. He'd already petitioned a judge for a warrant to do exactly what you did — illegally — with that confiscated cell phone. That you won't give up your source is another sore spot."
She nodded. "I realize it was a mistake, sir, but considering the urgency of time, I felt the situation warranted the step."
Those intelligent eyes bored into hers. "And you were right." One corner of that sexy mouth — she wasn't supposed to notice that, dammit — lifted in a wry smile. "Just don't ever tell Flatt I said so."
Relief made her knees weak, or maybe it was the man. Don't go there, she warned that infuriatingly needy female part of her. "Thank you, sir."
Chief Dugan stood, putting his tall frame even closer to her. "You're going to do well here, Jentzen. I just need you to play by the rules from now on. In order to make sure the bad guys get what's coming, we have to make sure everything is done by the book."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. I won't let you down."
"Make sure you don't miss any of your counseling sessions," he reminded. "Killing a man, even in self-defense, is a difficult thing to learn to live with."
"I'll be fine, sir." Elaine blinked, couldn't hold his gaze. She didn't want him to see that he was right, she had been struggling with it. But she would come to terms with what she'd had to do. She was a cop; it was her job to serve and protect. Sometimes, that meant using excessive force…sometimes, it meant taking a life.
Dugan let go a heavy breath, drawing her reluctant gaze back to his. And there it was, that longing she couldn't deny…the same intense need she felt every time when alone with him like this. Or, hell, even when she let herself think about him too long. But was it about him or was it simply because she had been alone too long? Here they were, two fiercely career-oriented people who didn't take time for anything else. But they both knew the rules…were skating on thin ice. And yet, they were only human.
"About this thing between us," he said softly. "This department needs you… I need you."
She couldn't manage the "yes, sir" she needed to say.
"I don't want to jeopardize that," he went on. "I have high hopes for you, Detective."
Just then all those crazy mixed-up emotions she'd been dealing with coalesced. Maybe it was the same struggle she saw in him, or maybe it was just the incredibly sweet way he said the words. Whatever it was, she knew what she had to do.
"Then we won't do anything to jeopardize our careers," she told him with no hesitation, her heart starting to pound with a mixture of heat and anticipation. At the question in his eyes she quickly tacked on, "We'll be very, very careful."
She watched the anticipatory light flare in his own eyes. She wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt. Hurt a hell of a lot more than that damned bullet that grazed her leg.
"Maybe we both need some time off," he offered. Elaine couldn't help herself. She watched his lips move as he elaborated. "Some distance from the job. Come back with a fresh attitude."
"Sounds like a good plan," she agreed, her throat parched. Was he closer or was it her imagination? She could feel the heat of his body…wanted desperately to touch him. But that couldn't happen…not here…not now…not like this.
"Then we understand each other," he allowed, the desire in his eyes doing strange things to her ability to breathe.
She nodded. "Yes, sir." It was all she could do not to take that hopeful lean toward him…not to brush her lips across his.
Instead, Elaine turned and walked out of his office. They would finish this in neutral territory…where he wasn't the chief and she wasn't a detective.
Right now she had a report to complete. A smile stretched across her face. She'd solved her case, made a place for herself among homicide's esteemed ranks. She was Detective Elaine Jentzen…and her job was murder.
The End