“Same as the Atlantic City rape victims,” Aidan said.
“And some of our victims,” Reed agreed. “Nobody in Springdale was sorry or surprised to see it happen and the locals are having trouble making any headway on the case. Gibson had a history as a child predator. He was out on parole.”
Westphalen nodded. “Ah. This makes sense.”
“When was Gibson arrested?” Spinnelli asked.
“I checked out Gibson,” Murphy said. “He had no complaints on his record when Detroit social services first placed Shane. The first charges were filed on behalf of Shane Kates. Gibson pled out, but later he was nailed for molesting two other kids.”
“That’s the trigger,” Westphalen said. “Gibson molested Andrew’s brother, then nearly ten years later this boy at Hope Center, Thad, is molested. That same night Gibson and Andrew Kates’s Aunt Mary die. But ten years is a long time for such rage to lie dormant.”
“That’s because you got ahead of our story,” Mia said. “Be patient, Miles.”
Westphalen grimaced. “Sorry. Please continue.”
Reed nodded. “Okay. Shane was molested by Gibson at some time during the year he was there. Based on Gibson’s profile, probably multiple times. He’s a sick bastard.”
“Was,” Mia corrected. “Now he’s a dead bastard.”
“Was,” Reed echoed. “Shane would have been seven or eight at the time.”
“Same age as Jeremy Lukowitch,” Murphy noted and Mia nodded, troubled.
“I don’t know what to make of that. Maybe that’s why he didn’t hurt Jeremy, just his mother. Sorry, Reed. Go on.”
“Andrew was in juvie a year. When he got out, he was placed with his aunt, but before the first sundown, Andrew took Shane and ran away. They were picked up by Indiana police a few days later, but Andrew told them what Carl -Gibson did to Shane and since the aunt had permanent custody of both of them they were put in foster care in -Indiana versus being sent back to Detroit. That’s when the first charges were filed against Gibson.”
“It was hard to place two brothers together,” Mia said, “especially with one of them having a juvie record. The local social services agency couldn’t place them, so they transferred the case to Chicago, who had a lot more homes available. Penny Hill was their caseworker. She placed them with Laura Dougherty, who had developed a reputation for success with troubled kids. And she was willing to take them both.”
“What did Laura Dougherty do that was so bad that Kates tried to kill her three times?” Westphalen asked.
“That took a little more digging,” Mia said. “The Social Services manager didn’t know and Penny Hill didn’t write it in the file. I finally had to drive out to see Mrs. Blennard, their old friend. She remembered Shane. He was beautiful, blond and blue-eyed. At one point, Laura had considered adopting both boys, then Shane started in on one of the younger boys who was only five.” She looked resigned. “Shane fondled him.”
“The abused became the abuser,” Westphalen said and held up his hands when Reed frowned. “It happens, Reed. However you choose to explain it, it happens.”
“Well, it happened with Shane Kates,” Mia inserted when Reed would have responded. “When Laura brought Penny Hill back to discuss it, Shane started breaking things on the sly. He blamed this younger boy, but Mrs. Dougherty didn’t believe him.”
“So who ultimately threw the boys out?” Westphalen asked.
“Mrs. Blennard said Andrew begged Laura not to send them away. Nearly broke Laura’s heart. Penny got them counseling, but Shane did it again, and that time Laura caught him in the act. So Laura told them they had to go.”
“So where did they go?” Spinnelli asked.
“It got harder to keep them together, but Penny Hill tried. She found a place in the country, a real rural area. She thought it would settle the boys, fresh air and chores.” Mia shrugged. “Cows. This was Bill and Bitsey Young’s house. They had two biological sons, older, high school age.”
“This is where the records start to break down,” Reed said. “It answers questions for us, but it raises a whole host for Social Services. All of this information comes from Andrew’s file. Nobody can find Shane’s.”
Spinnelli’s eyes widened. “They lost the file?”
“So it would seem,” Mia said uneasily. “The boys were placed with the Youngs about ten years ago, but there aren’t any more entries in Andrew’s file for a whole year. Not by Penny Hill or anybody else. They were essentially abandoned.”
“Abandoned by another woman,” Reed added.
“Penny Hill forgot about them?” Westphalen’s gray brows shot up. “That doesn’t sound like the woman everyone described as dedicated to a fault.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Mia frowned. “Penny’s daughter said she worried about dropping the ball, that a kid would get hurt. Maybe they weren’t foundless worries. At any rate, the next entry in Andrew’s file is a year later when he’s transferred to another foster home. Andrew was noted as a quiet kid, very withdrawn. Straight A’s.” She lifted a brow. “Math club in high school. But after placement at the Youngs’ there isn’t another word about Shane in the state’s social services files.”
“We don’t know what happened in the Youngs’ house.” Reed pulled a photo from his folder. “But we do know the house ended up looking like this.”
“Burned to the ground,” Westphalen murmured. “When?”
“After the boys had been there nearly a year,” Mia answered.
Murphy leaned over and picked up the photo. “How did you find this?”
“The fire was documented in insurance records.” Reed shrugged. “It was a hunch.”
Mia shook her head. “It was better than a hunch. I found Shane Kates’s death certificate listed in the county’s database. Cause of death was respiratory failure.”
“From the fire,” Aidan said.
Mia nodded. “Exactly. Reed looked up Shane’s death date in his insurance database and cross-referenced the Youngs and found they’d filed a claim the following week for their house which had been destroyed in the fire.”
“This picture was from the local fire department,” Reed said. “They’re pulling together the firefighters that responded that day so we can get more information, but it was almost nine years ago.”
“So,” Westphalen mused, “Andrew set the fire and his brother died.”
Mia nodded. “The brother he’d gone to great lengths to protect.”
Westphalen’s eyes had narrowed in thought. “It’s a significant trauma.”
“One a person might bury for nearly ten years?” Mia asked.
“Possibly. A compulsive personality might chew it to death or deny it entirely.”
Spinnelli frowned. “I’m still missing something. Why is ten the magic number?”
“That looks like the easiest question to answer.” Mia slid two faxed pages to the middle of the table, side by side. “Shane’s birth certificate from Michigan and his death certificate from Illinois. I overlooked the death date in the computer the first time I searched because the numbers are nearly identical to his birth date. One digit off.”
“Shane Kates died on his tenth birthday,” Westphalen murmured.
“In a fire,” Reed confirmed.
Mia sighed. “Count to ten and go to hell.”
“So what next?” Spinnelli asked.
“Track down the Youngs and their sons,” Reed said. “He’s done things in order as much as he can. It makes sense the Youngs are next.”
Spinnelli nodded. “First thing in the morning I want you in... what’s the town, Mia?”
“The Youngs lived in Lido, Illinois.”
“Get down to Lido and find them. Murphy and Aidan, you’re on call. Dismissed.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Saturday, December 2, 7:25 P.M.
Mia was searching the Internet for the Youngs when Reed leaned his hip against her desk, closer than was wise. She’d keep it professional. “The meet
ing went well.”
“Yes, it did. It’s coming together. We should have him soon.”
“You go on home to Beth. I need to work a little longer.”
“You didn’t go apartment hunting today.” His voice was a smooth murmur.
She gritted her teeth against the shiver that prickled her skin. “No, but my bag’s in my trunk. I’ll stay with Dana. Percy has food till tomorrow. I’ll come and get him then.”
“Use Lauren’s place one more night, Mia. I won’t bother you, I promise.”
From the corner of her eye she saw Murphy alone at his desk, watching in that quiet, shrewd way of his, then she looked up at Reed. She kept thinking she’d be prepared, but every time she looked at his face it still hurt. She kept thinking she could look at his chest without wondering if he still wore his ring on the chain. Without some small part of her hoping he’d take it off. That she’d be enough to make him want to.
Which was as pathetic as it was stupid. “Reed, stop. It’s not fair.”
His shoulders sagged. “Call me when you get to Dana’s, so I know you’re okay.”
She waited until he was on his own side of the desk before speaking again. “When you get home, make sure you talk to Beth.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Mia hesitated. “Just tell her you love her, okay?”
Uncertainly he nodded. “I will.” He gathered his things and left.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to mess up his face?” Murphy asked.
“No.” She turned back to her computer. “I’m going to find the Youngs, then call their local PD and warn them. For now that’s all I can do.”
“You know, Mia, that little kid today. Jeremy. You were good with him.”
So was Reed, she thought. We made a good team. “Thanks. He’s a nice boy.”
“I bet he’s feeling scared right now. I bet you could find out where they took him.”
She thought of Jeremy, scared and alone. “I found out in case I got done early.”
Murphy came over and turned off her computer. “There, you’re done early. I’ll look for the Youngs. You see Jeremy, then go to Dana’s. I’ll call you if I find something.”
“Thanks, Murphy.” Her throat closed up at the sympathy in his eyes. “I have to go.”
By the time she made it down the stairs she was back in control. Which was a good thing, because a woman with a blond braid waited outside the main door. “Do you want anything else, Carmichael?” she asked acidly. “Like maybe my kidney?”
“I know where Getts lives.”
Mia stopped. “Where?” And how long have you known?
Carmichael handed her a piece of paper on which she’d written the address. “I didn’t mean for your address to go in the paper. I’m sorry.”
Mia almost believed her, the girl was that good. She took the paper anyway. “Stay out of my way, Carmichael. And you’d better hope you never need a cop.”
Carmichael’s eyes narrowed. “I’m serious. I didn’t know. Mitchell, you’re as close to a meal ticket as I could hope for. I would no more try to get you killed than fired.”
Now Mia’s eyes narrowed. “What? What do you mean, fired?”
“I was there the night of the Adler fire. I saw Solliday come out of your place. It would make good gossip, but if you’re fired my meal ticket’s gone. I really didn’t put your address in that story. My editor did. He thought it would spice it up. I am sorry.”
Mia was too tired to care anymore. “Fine.” When she got to her car, she called Spinnelli, gave him the information. “Have Brooks and Howard make the collar.”
“You don’t want him?”
A week ago, it was all that mattered. Now... “I think I need a vacation.”
“You’ve got the time. When this is over, take some. Go to the beach. Get a tan.”
She laughed even though she didn’t want to. “You’re obviously thinking of somebody else’s skin. Call me if they get Getts, okay?” She had important things to do.
Twenty minutes later she was knocking on the door of the emergency foster home in which Social Services had placed Jeremy. He was sitting on the sofa, watching TV.
“He hasn’t moved all day,” the foster mother said. “Poor thing.”
Mia sat down next to him. “Hey, kid.”
He looked up at her. “Did you get him?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why are you here?”
He sounded just like Roger Burnette. “I came to see you. You okay?”
He nodded his red head, his freckled face sober. Then he shook his head. “No.”
“I guess that was a stupid question. So, I’ll try again. What’s this show?”
“The history of jet aviation.”
She put her arm around his shoulders. “Okay.” After a few minutes of rigidity, Jeremy put his head on her shoulder. And stayed that way until the show was over.
Saturday, December 2, 9:20 P.M.
Mia pulled into Dana’s driveway, later than she’d wanted. She’d stayed longer with Jeremy than she’d planned. But after the week she’d had, it felt good to sit with a small boy who’d needed her to be there as much as she’d needed it herself.
She had her hand on the front doorknob when Dana and Ethan moved into view through the window. Dana was laughing and Ethan had his hand on her stomach. Then he leaned down and talked to Dana’s middle and just like that, Mia understood.
To her consternation, there was no wave of joy. Just a huge empty sadness. And shame. Her best friend was pregnant and had been too concerned about her emotional state to bubble her happiness. How selfish can I be? Tonight, pretty damn selfish. Like a coward, she backed away and almost made it to her car when the front door opened.
“Mia?” Dana stood on the front porch shivering. “Come in, for heaven’s sake.”
Mia shook her head. Pursed her lips. Drew a breath and forced a smile. “I just realized I’m late. I promised...” But no lie leaped to her tongue and Dana’s face fell.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll come by tomorrow and get all the details.”
Miserably, Dana nodded. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“With Lauren.” When hell froze over. “Hey, do you have room for another kid?”
“Actually, we do. Social Services has the kid that was coming back to his mom.”
“I have a kid that needs a good place. His mom was murdered last night.”
Dana’s eyes filled. “Hormones,” she muttered. “What’s his name?”
“Jeremy Lukowitch. He’s a nice kid.” Who deserved better than what he got. But then don’t we all? “I have to go. Get some rest.” She grinned awkwardly. “Boil water.”
He’d had to park on a side street far away not to be seen as he waited. But it was worth it. Through his binoculars he saw Mitchell talking to the redhead, then she got in her car and drove away. He followed her.
He hadn’t even been waiting all that long, having made a stop on the way, wanting a backup. A check of the public records showed her mother’s address. And on a lark, he’d looked for Solliday’s as well. Sooner or later she would show up at one of those places. And if he got desperate, he’d planned to wait outside the precinct. But as luck would have it, none of those measures were called for. He’d found her. He’d follow her, and when her guard was down, he’d take her out. Sooner or later she had to sleep.
Abruptly she sped up when she got to the highway, slipping in front of a big truck. He floored it, his heart in his throat. But she was gone. She’d lost him.
I lost her. His temper was ice cold. Fine, he’d just make her come to him.
Saturday, December 2, 10:00 P.M.
They said misery loves company and that must have been true, because after ditching the pesky, lying Carmichael, Mia found herself parked in front of Fire Company 172, hoping she’d find David Hunter on duty. He was in the kitchen making chili.
&nb
sp; “That’s so cliché,” she said and he turned around, eyes widening.
He shrugged. “It’s also good. You want some?”
“Sure.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “Smells good.”
“I’m a good cook.” He put a bowl in front of her. “You find him?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why are you here?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “I swear I’ll deck the next person who says that. I came by to see how you are. The fire at Brooke Adler’s was... devastating.”
He joined her at the table. “I’ll be okay. I imagine you see worse on a regular basis.”
She thought about Brooke Adler, the burns and the woman’s excruciating pain. “No, I don’t think so. That was bad, David. Don’t feel bad if you need to talk to someone.”
He said nothing, leaving her to stare at his GQ face and compare him to Reed. She must be nuts, because Reed came out on top. She sighed. “I wish I wanted you, David.”
The initial surprise in his eyes gave way to wry amusement. “Same goes.”
“You, too?”
He laughed sadly. “A few times I’ve wondered why one person does it for you and another doesn’t. Sorry, Mia, but you don’t. Although there are about five guys in this company alone who’d kill to be with you. That was an expression, of course.”
“Of course.” When she got over Reed, she’d ask David to introduce her to one of those five lucky guys. “You’re not over her, are you?” Dana, whom he’d loved for years and who had absolutely no idea how much she’d hurt him.
His gray eyes shuttered. “Eat your chili, Mia.”
“Okay. Listen, my car got ambushed the other night. The department will fix the windows, but one of the bullets hit the hood. Will you take a look at it in your garage?”
His dark brows went up. “Bullets hit your car. Your little Alfa.”
“Yeah.” Then she grinned. “It was damn exciting.”