“I can take you to the police station instead,” Holly interjected, her tone firm and her gaze direct. “It’s up to you.”
There was a threat there. Tessa heard it. Leaving the scene had been a mistake. She should have realized how big of one before she’d done it.
Betty was right.
She hadn’t been thinking straight, but she needed to start. There would probably be a media blitz at the police station, and Tessa wanted no part of that.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a doctor look at my head,” she murmured, touching the sore spot.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Holly replied, taking her arm and urging outside.
Dawn had broken over the bay, bathing the town in a golden haze. The sky was deep pink, with dark clouds looming on the horizon. A winter storm was blowing in. She could feel moisture in the air, taste it in the salty wind that blew across the bay.
She hoped the weather would keep the gawkers away. She hoped it would prevent outsiders from arriving with cameras and questions.
She hoped, but she wasn’t counting on it.
She had the sinking feeling that everything she had worked for had been undone, and all she could do was pray she didn’t come undone with it.
She shuddered as she climbed into the front seat of Holly’s cruiser and closed the door.
* * *
Henry paced the corridor outside Everly’s hospital room, his cell phone in hand, his body humming with adrenaline. According to the physician who’d examined her, his daughter would be fine. She had been drugged but was otherwise unharmed. Blood tests had been taken and sent to the lab. They’d soon know what she’d been injected with.
Henry suspected they’d find midazolam in her system.
The thought filled him with dread.
In the past eighteen months, five young children had been taken from their homes. Each had been missing for several days and then been found dazed and alone at nearby public schools or medical clinics. The kidnappings had happened in small New England towns. All the victims had midazolam in their systems. All had multiple needle marks on their arms and legs. All had obvious signs of abuse but no memory of what had happened. Girls. Ranging in age from five to eight years. All of them pretty and dark-haired.
Just like Everly.
His hand clenched, his body tense with anger and frustration. The FBI special crimes unit had been working the case for several months, putting together a profile of the kidnapper and trying to find a pattern in either timing or location of the crimes.
Thus far, they had little to go on.
The perp was careful. He left no DNA evidence. No fingerprints. Nothing that would identify him. But he had an MO. One that was easily recognizable to anyone who’d read over the case files. He targeted older homes with poor security. He took children from quiet residential areas that had easy access to interstate roads. He struck in the early morning hours. Before dawn but after midnight. He cut through window screens and jimmied locks with silent precision.
Parents didn’t realize what had happened until they went to wake their daughters in the morning. Hours later. When it was too late to do anything but panic and call the police.
That would have been Everly’s story.
It would have been his.
If not for a stranger’s timely intervention, he would have walked into his daughters’ room and realized every parent’s worst nightmare had come true.
He pivoted, opening Everly’s door and peeking in. She was still out, tucked under layers of blankets—her dark hair had been braided by the nurse who sat by her side.
Briana or Brittany. He couldn’t remember which.
A police officer stood near a curtained window, his hand resting on the butt of his firearm. He didn’t speak. Just nodded in Henry’s direction.
The nurse smiled. “She’s still out, Mr. Miller. The doctor said it could be several hours.”
“I know,” he replied.
“She’ll be okay. She looks good. Vitals great. Heart rate, respiration, oxygen, all of it normal. You can have my seat, if you’d like to hold her hand. Sometimes, that makes parents feel better.”
He knew that.
He’d witnessed it firsthand with the parents of the girls who’d been kidnapped and returned. He’d stood in hospital rooms, asking questions as delicately as he could while they clutched the hands of the children they’d almost lost forever. Eventually, the perp might change his MO. Eventually, the girls might not be returned. He and his colleagues suspected the kidnappings were part of a child-pornography ring, and they were desperate to shut it down.
They would shut it down.
Not just because Everly had nearly been taken, but because every child deserved to have a safe and carefree childhood. He couldn’t change all the evils in the world, but he could change some of them. For as long as he could, for as many years as he was allowed, that was what he planned to do.
“Thanks. I’ll probably do that after I take the call I’m waiting on.” He smiled, because he knew his voice and tone were gruff. He felt raw and ripped open, his emotions exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.
“Sounds good.” She returned his smile and picked up a paperback, burying her nose in it as he closed the door.
The hospital was taking every precaution.
The local police were doing the same.
Henry appreciated that. He appreciated the fact that Everly was okay. She hadn’t been harmed. She’d have no memory of being kidnapped, no residual fear or trauma to recover from.
He still wished he’d been more careful. He’d known the security at his in-laws’ house was lacking. He had known the windows were old. He had also known that a serial kidnapper was on the loose targeting girls his daughters’ age.
But he had not thought it could happen to his family. He hadn’t wanted to believe that tragedy would strike twice in one lifetime. That God would allow him to suffer again. Not the way he had when Diane died.
He hadn’t prepared, and he hadn’t planned. He had almost paid the price for that. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
His phone rang, and he answered it, his voice terse. “Miller here.”
“This is not your fault,” his supervisor, Wren Santino, said, her tone brisk and business-like.
“When did you become a mind reader?” he replied, pacing a few feet from the room and then back again. His in-laws were on the way. He’d asked them to bring Aria. He wanted to keep both girls as close as possible until the perp was caught.
And he would be caught.
Henry had been able to provide a description of the Jeep. No plate number, but he was hopeful exterior security cameras at local businesses might offer more identifying features.
And then there was the witness.
Tessa Carlson. When she had disappeared from the scene, Henry had been afraid she might not be found. Fortunately, she worked at a Provincetown diner and everyone on the local police force seemed to know her. She had been easy to track down. He was hopeful