A Dangerous Game. Heather Graham

to take in a foreign bride with no papers so that if something bad happens to her, well, she never existed.”

      “Yeah,” Craig agreed. “There’s that.”

      “Life—and dreams—for sale.”

      “Okay, is it possible that we’re dealing with something that has to do with immigration, and God knows, maybe human trafficking or illegal adoption? No one has come forward,” Craig pointed out. “What happened has been in the news, on every screen in the city. A woman is dead—and a beautiful baby girl has just been abandoned.”

      “So people are afraid to speak out. I think that we’re on the right track,” Mike agreed.

      “Okay. So going with that, here’s a theory. Someone is trafficking young women. God knows—probably more than one ‘someone’ in a city the size of New York. Maybe they discovered the baby market on the side. Even good people—desperate for a child—might be willing to go the illegal adoption route.”

      “But, no one has come for the baby,” Craig said.

      “Well, not yet, anyway,” Mike agreed. “They can’t—if they try to claim the baby, there are a million questions. You think the mother is dead?”

      “Possibly. I think that the woman who handed the baby to Kieran was trying to save it—and maybe because she believed she could somehow save the mother, as well? I don’t know. Maybe it was her way to stop everything that was going on. Hopefully our friend Jacob knows something that can help,” Craig said.

      Mike shrugged. “I guess we have to start somewhere. But there are a lot of factors to consider, you know.”

      “As you just said, we have to start somewhere,” Craig said. “And Jacob is damned good at his job—he’s taken down members of the Russian mob repeatedly without ever being caught. He has his eye on anything coming from Eastern Europe. And—through other contacts—he seems to have a handle on Asian crime and Central and South America, as well. He’s definitely our best help for some kind of help on this.”

      Craig’s phone was ringing. He pulled it from his pocket and winced. Kieran. He hadn’t talked to her yet. “Hey,” he said into the phone.

      Mike waved a hand at him dismissively and walked a few steps ahead.

      “Sorry—I couldn’t wait anymore. I have to know—you’re at least on it, right?”

      “We’re in,” Craig said. “I just...well, at this moment, we’ve still got nothing. No, not nothing. The autopsy did give us information. The dental records suggested that the woman grew up in Eastern Europe, probably the former Soviet Union.”

      “See! That’s something already.”

      “Yes, it gives us a direction, but we need to move along carefully with open minds. Theories are great. But we can’t put on blinders to other ideas—we need a great deal more.”

      “That’s fine. You’re in. That’s the most major step.”

      “Yes, so...what are you doing? Not going crazy? Not obsessing?”

      “Not at all. I promise. I helped Mary Kathleen out at her soup kitchen, ran some lines with Kevin, and then worked the bar for a while. I’m heading home, though. I’ll see you there, okay?”

      He didn’t answer her right away; she sounded far too easy with what was going on.

      “Craig? See you at home—that okay with you? Oh, if you and Mike are working...did you want me to hang out at the pub and wait for you?” she asked.