Raegan scanned shelves for anything personal she could talk about to form a connection with the older woman and cut the tension. Maybe if she could get Mrs. Kasdan reminiscing or talking about family she would open up a little more.
Raegan moved through the room, professionally decorated with spendy furnishings and trinkets that looked as if they’d come straight from the pages of Pottery Barn. There were no personal photos on the shelves or the walls. None of the Kasdan family or Mrs. Kasdan’s son. None even of Mrs. Kasdan’s professed loves—the ballet company or the children’s museum.
Raegan found that odd. If this were her home, she’d have pictures of Emma and Alec all over those shelves. Her heart rolled when she thought of Alec again, but she drew a breath and kept scanning. At the end of the library, she spotted a heavy wood door that made her stop.
Common sense told her Mrs. Kasdan would be back at any moment and that Raegan shouldn’t snoop, but she was curious. Glancing over her shoulder toward the hallway, she waited and listened. No voices or footsteps echoed her way. Closing her hand around the knob, she twisted. To her surprise, the knob turned all the way, and the door pushed open.
A personal office sat before Raegan with a long cherry desk occupying the center of the room, the surface spotless but for a Tiffany lamp and gold pen. A plush chair was pushed up against the desk. Another wall of windows behind the desk looked out across yet another immaculate lawn, and on the far side of the room, a trio of chairs was grouped to form a sitting area. But what captured Raegan’s attention hung on the walls. Over the fireplace and along both sides. Rows and rows of small black frames, each holding a heart-shaped scrap of fabric in a rainbow of different colors.
There were dozens of hearts. At least forty that she counted. Turning, she spotted more framed hearts on the walls near the windows, so many they made her blink as if she were seeing stars.
“I see you found my collection.”
Raegan startled and glanced toward the door where Miriam Kasdan stood with a blank expression on her perfectly made-up face. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. I just . . . I was looking for a restroom.”
She winced because the excuse sounded lame to her own ears.
Mrs. Kasdan stepped into the office and glanced over the walls. “I suppose to an outsider it may seem silly. To me, though . . .” A look of profound pride spread across her features. “Some old women knit, others quilt. I find relaxation in framing objects I find beautiful.”
Raegan wasn’t sure about the beautiful comment, but as she looked to her right where a heart-shaped piece of faded, pinstriped denim sat on a small table, surrounded by several lengths of picture frame molding waiting to be snapped together, her stomach pitched because she realized these were more than just beautiful objects.
“It’s . . . really amazing,” Raegan said, fighting back the heat prickling her spine. All these hearts . . . All those missing kids . . . The image of that scrap of fabric Gilbert had left in the plastic bag on her porch flashed in front of her eyes. “H-how many hearts have you framed?”
“Fifty-eight, Ms. Devereaux.”
Raegan froze.
Miriam Kasdan tipped her head. “That was the head of my security team on the phone, wondering why Raegan Devereaux, the mother in a high-profile missing-child’s case, was caught on surveillance video entering my property.”
Raegan slowly turned to face the woman. She was at least thirty years younger than Miriam Kasdan, but the woman outweighed her by a good twenty pounds, and blocking Raegan’s only door of escape, the woman looked like someone who’d not slowed down at all in her later years.
Think, quickly. She had to get out of here before Miriam Kasdan knew what she suspected. “I . . . I lied about my name. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t think you’d see me if you knew my real name, given that I no longer work for KTVP.”
“I’m well aware you no longer work there.” All pretense of friendliness fled Miriam Kasdan’s voice. “What are you doing here, Ms. Devereaux?”
Sweat slicked Raegan’s spine. If this woman knew she no longer worked at the station, and she knew about Emma’s disappearance, lying wasn’t going to work. The only play she had was to pull the mother card and hope Miriam Kasdan could empathize, considering she was a mother herself. “My daughter went missing three years ago. We looked everywhere for her but never found her.”
“I remember hearing about your daughter’s abduction on the news. I’m sorry for your loss. It has nothing to do with me, however.”
The words were crisp and terse, and they made Raegan’s stomach roll because she didn’t believe them. “I know. And thank you. I apologize for bothering you like this, but I saw you at the station the other day, and after I got home, when I realized who you were, I thought”—come on, lie to her—“well, I thought someone like you, with such a high-profile status in the community and with all your charity work, might be able to help me out.”
“Help you out,” the woman said speculatively.
“Yes.” Heat spread up Raegan’s neck as she grabbed hold of the lie and ran with it. “Starting a charity. I want to start a charity to help families of missing children. Searching for a child is time-consuming and expensive. Not to mention emotionally taxing. Families in those situations need counseling, they need time off from their jobs, they need money to continue their search. Before I left KTVP I was looking into a case where a two-year-old disappeared from his yard, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what the family was going through and how—”
“Why?”
The elaborate lie Raegan had concocted faltered on her tongue. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you continuing to look into cases that do not concern you? Especially when your job no longer requires you to do so?”
The question threw her. “B-because I know what those families are going through. They just want answers about their children.”
“And you believe you’re the person to provide those answers?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Someone needs to help them.”
Mrs. Kasdan stared at Raegan for several moments, then again said, “Why?”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Why do those parents deserve answers? Oh, I follow the news too, Ms. Devereaux. I’m well aware that most of the children who disappear are either neglected or fall victim to their parents’ selfish lifestyles. Drug addicts, immigrants, prostitutes . . . those kind of people don’t deserve to have children if they can’t take care of them, wouldn’t you agree?”
That tremble of unease in Raegan’s belly turned to a hard rolling wave as she watched Miriam Kasdan step toward the small table and run her pink manicured nails over the heart-shaped piece of denim. In that moment she knew for certain that it wasn’t a beautiful object at all. It was a trophy, one that sent bile shooting up Raegan’s esophagus.
“I—I don’t understand what you mean,” Raegan lied, knowing exactly what the woman meant. Her gaze flicked to the door behind Miriam Kasdan as she contemplated her exit route and how fast she could contact the police.
“And what about the children?” the woman went on as if Raegan hadn’t even spoken. “What do they deserve? A life in squalor like their older siblings, nothing more to look forward to than the next gang fight down the road or learning to turn their own tricks? That’s no life for a child.” She lifted the pinstriped denim heart in her hand and caressed it as a mother caresses a child’s hair. “If those children were given a second chance, if they were with families now who not only cared for them but who gave them the best of everything—the finest educations, summer trips abroad, a future of wealth and privilege—would you still want to help their selfish biological parents find them? Would you take away every opportunity they’ve been given to rise up from the ashes of poverty and sentence them back to a life of despair and hopelessness?” She pinned Raegan with a hard look. “I don’t think you would.”
“Yes, I would,” Raegan said, fighting hard to stay in co
ntrol and not give herself away. “Because those children still have parents and siblings and people who lo—”
“People who neglected them,” Miriam Kasdan snapped, slapping the heart-shaped piece of fabric on the table. “I see their older siblings. I see those children come into my son’s charity offices looking for a handout. His staff tries to partner them with mentors in the community, but by the time a child is nine or ten, it’s too late. Their environment has shaped them as much as their DNA.”
Anger exploded inside Raegan. She couldn’t hold it back any longer. “So you, what? You steal their younger siblings? Child trafficking is a felony.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Miriam Kasdan said calmly. “I see it as an act of heroism. I save children from horrible lives and even worse futures. Every single child I’ve helped is in a better place now because of me.” She smirked and lifted her hand to point toward a frame on the wall. “Even that one.”
Raegan turned to see what the woman was pointing at and focused on a white scrap with tiny pink hearts that she hadn’t noticed before in the sea of framed hearts—the same fabric in the dress Emma had been wearing the day she’d disappeared.
The blood drained from Raegan’s face, and her own heart felt as if it came to a stuttering stop in the middle of her chest. “No.”
“Yes,” Miriam Kasdan said with a smug grin. “Instead of judging me, you should thank me. I saved your daughter from that degenerate Gilbert, and I’d do it again if I had the chance.”
Raegan wasn’t in the apartment.
Alec walked out of her bedroom and into the living room, glancing around to see if she’d left her keys or cell phone in the hope she’d only run out for a minute and would soon be back. Both were missing, along with her purse.
He tugged his phone out of his pocket and checked to see if she’d texted or responded to his voice message. She hadn’t.
“Damn.”
He was just about to call her when the phone in his hand buzzed. Instead of Raegan’s name, though, Bickam’s flashed on the screen.
His heart rate sped up. A mixture of fear and dread spiraled through his stomach, and he thought of that whiskey again, but he knew he wouldn’t reach for it no matter what he heard. With shaking fingers, he hit “Answer” and lifted the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”
“McClane? It’s Bickam. I was about to call Raegan but thought I’d let you know first. I’m looking at the lab report on that scrap of fabric you found on Raegan’s patio.”
“And?” He closed his eyes and focused on his breath. In, out. One lungful at a time.
“The blood isn’t human.”
Alec’s eyes popped open. “What?”
“It’s cow blood.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s not your daughter’s blood.”
Hope wiggled between Alec’s ribs like arcing bolts of lightning electrifying his heart. “The bones in the mountains. Have you—”
“We don’t have any answers for you there. We still can’t say if they’re male or female. Boys and girls that young are structurally the same.”
Alec knew that. Bickam had told him the same last night. But then Alec had been so sure those remains belonged to Emma, he’d barely listened. Now . . .
Now knowing that the blood hadn’t been hers, he realized it was highly likely Gilbert had been fucking with him the same way Gilbert had always fucked with him. The bastard had wanted a reaction to the bloody fabric, and when he hadn’t gotten it from Alec, it was only then that he’d given up the location of those remains.
Alec’s heart beat even harder when he thought about how many kids wore Converse shoes. They were wildly popular, and they were unisex. He also realized if Gilbert was involved in some kind of child-abduction ring as Charlene had claimed, those remains could belong to any child.
He didn’t want to think of another child suffering, but he couldn’t stop that hope inside from twining around his heart to give him strength. “When will you know . . . if it’s Emma?”
“A week. Maybe two. I’ve put a rush on the DNA tests, but it will depend on how backed up the lab is. Is Raegan with you or should I call her to give her this info—”
Alec didn’t hear the rest of what Bickam had to say. He hit “End” and dialed Raegan’s number. He needed to talk to her. Needed to tell her the news himself. Needed to tell her he was a fool and beg her not to give up on him.
Her phone rang over and over, then finally clicked over to voice mail.
“Son of a bitch.” Why wasn’t she answering?
“Raegan, it’s Alec again. It’s important. I need you to call me right away.” Frustrated, he hit “End.” Looked around the apartment. Tried to figure out where she could have gone. She’d quit her job at the station. She clearly wasn’t with Bickam. She didn’t have any family in the area. Since he hadn’t spent more than a week with her recently, he didn’t even know who her friends were now.
His gut told him someone at KTVP might know who she socialized with. She’d mentioned a girl bringing her home the other night after she’d been attacked in that alley. Ashley, Amy . . . no, Anna.
He moved for the front door. The phone in the kitchen rang, stopping his feet. Hope burst inside Alec as he shoved his cell into his pocket and jogged across the room.
“Raegan?”
“No, it’s Hunt. That you, Alec?”
Shit. “Yeah.” Alec glanced toward the front door, fighting the urge to hang up on his friend so he could search for Raegan. “It’s me.”
“Okay, then.” Surprise rippled through Hunt’s voice. “Can I talk to Raegan?”
Confusion pulled Alec’s brows together because there was no reason for Hunt to call Raegan. The two had never been what anyone would consider friends, mostly because Hunt thought Raegan was the reason his addiction had gotten the best of him. “What’s going on? Why are you calling her?”
“Because I’m not a dick like you.”
Alec winced. He deserved that. Raegan had definitely talked to Hunt this morning. “Point taken. Thanks for checking on her.”
“I tried to call you several times earlier, dumbass, but you didn’t answer. Are you drunk?”
“No.” Alec raked a hand through his hair, irritated they were having this conversation when all he wanted to do was find Raegan. “I haven’t been drinking.”
“Are you lying to me? I’ll find out if you are. You’re a shitty liar, you know.”
“I’m not lying.” Alec braced his hand on the granite counter. “Look, I went to a bar. I ordered a drink. I didn’t drink it.”
“Not at all?”
“Not even a drop. I’m not going back there. What did Raegan say to you this morning?”
“She said you were a dick. A little tiny one, just like the one in your pants.”
Alec frowned. “I get it. Move on already.”
“Gladly. Since you finally pulled your head out of your ass, I’ll tell you what I called to tell her. I have some financial info on Gilbert. She and I discussed checking into it this morning and seeing if we could trace who Gilbert was working for before you got sent to juvie.”
Alec’s pulse sped up. While he’d been wallowing in his pain, Raegan had been strategizing and fighting and never once giving up on their daughter, just like always. Awe rippled through him. Awe and love. “What did you find?”
“Some interesting shit. Before Gilbert was sent to prison eighteen years ago, he was receiving payments from Rightways Trucking.”
“I’m not following you. He drove a truck. We know that.”
“Yeah, but Rightways Trucking is a subsidiary of BLK Conglomerates, the same company that manages the Children Are Our Future charity. The same charity Conner Murray was connected to.”
“How?”
“Not totally sure yet. Arnold Kasdan is the CEO of BLK. I told Raegan about a picture I found of Kasdan with Murray in front of the children’s museum here in Portland. I can’t find any payments to Murra
y via BLK, but the secretary I talked to at the CAOF charity office remembers seeing Murray in their building at least once a month. She said she thought he was a volunteer, but there are too many coincidences here for that. I’d bet you money Kasdan was the mastermind behind the whole thing. Murray was probably his contact with the families. A social worker like Murray would know where those kids would be at what times. Gilbert, I’m guessing, was the one who handled the pickups and drop-offs.”
Alec’s stomach twisted as he pushed away from the counter. Hunt was talking about abductions. Gilbert was the one who’d kidnapped those unsuspecting kids and hauled them away. “I need you to get this information to Jack Bickam at the FBI.”
“I will. I wanted to tell Raegan not to go meet with Miriam Kasdan first, though.”
“What?”
“Tell her not to go. The FBI will have enough information here to question Arnold Kasdan about Gilbert and this whole thing. We don’t want to tip him off or give him a reason to run. I can’t seem to locate the guy, so I don’t know if he’s here in Portland or halfway around the globe.”
“Slow down. You’re confusing me. Who is Miriam Kasdan?”
Hunt sighed. “Arnold Kasdan’s mother. She lives here in Portland. Raegan was going to meet with her this morning to feel her out.”
The blood drained from Alec’s face as a new fear rushed through him. “Oh shit.”
“What?”
Alec glanced around the empty apartment. “Raegan’s not here.”
“She already left?”
He pulled his cell from his pocket and stared at the blank screen. “And she’s not answering either of our calls.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Raegan rounded on Miriam Kasdan and only barely held back from strangling the woman. “Tell me what happened.”
The older woman folded her hands in front of her and moved back to stand in the doorway, blocking Raegan’s exit from the office. “Your daughter was not the type of child we normally rescue—no older siblings, educated and successful parents—but one of our couriers picked her up by mistake.”