Finding Her Son(12)

“Bradford.”

“Get your butt down here,” Dane Tanner barked. “Now.”

“What’s going on?”

“Your assignment just walked in the front door of the police department. Without you.”





Chapter Three


“Let me see Ghost,” Emily pleaded. “Or at least look through the tattoo database. It might jog my memory.”

Detective Dane Tanner clicked the door closed and sat behind the interview table sporting that same patient, dubious expression Emily had grown to hate over the past seven or eight months.

“What are you doing, Mrs. Wentworth?”

“Look, Detective, I know it seems far-fetched, but I’m on the verge of remembering.”

“Why Ghost? And where did this brainstorm come from so suddenly?”

Here we go again. Emily took in a slow, deep breath. “He has a tattoo.”

“Did you see it? Recognize it?”

“No, but my private investigator talked to—”

“Perry Young has a spotty reputation,” Tanner said. “I’ve reiterated this every time you’ve brought one of his leads to me. All going nowhere, I have to remind you. He’s a gambler and a drinker.” The detective shuffled through some papers. “He’s stringing you along for a steady paycheck.”

Not so steady anymore. That’s why she had to convince the detective to help her now.

“I got a flash of memory, Detective. If I could just see Ghost’s tattoo, or at least look at the books, I might recognize something. Ghost’s in custody, right? How tough would it be for me to talk to him?”

“I’m not breaking protocol because you had a vision. Go to a tattoo parlor.”

“I know what you think of me, Detective Tanner, but do it for the missing girls. Maybe Joshua and their babies are connected.”

“No infants have been reported missing or stolen. I’m sorry.” Dane steepled his fingers and rested them against his lips.

“A pregnant girl is missing.”

“And Kayla Foster’s grandmother reported her. This MO’s not a fit for Joshua’s disappearance. It’s none of your concern.”

She launched out of her chair and leaned over the desk. “You can’t turn your back on the vulnerable. Joshua is only thirteen months old. He’s alone.” She hated the idea of begging—especially to the detective who didn’t trust her—but she’d do anything for her son. She knew the statistics, the chances of getting him back. Infants taken who weren’t returned within a few weeks were almost never found. The numbers didn’t matter. Joshua would be the exception. She grabbed the age-progressed photo from her satchel and shoved it at him. “Please. Ghost tried to force Heather to go with him. You have to help those girls. I can help, too, if you’ll let me.”

“I’ll pass the information to the officer in charge of the assault case. That’s the best I can do. You, however, couldn’t have come in at a better time.” The detective slid a document across the table. “Is that your signature?”

Emily stuffed the photo back into her bag, scanned the paper and lifted her chin. “You want to quiz me about money or bank forms, call my lawyer. My son is out there, and I need help to find him. If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone who will.”

She slammed out of the interrogation room, the wooden door banging behind her, and sagged against the wall. Her heart pounded as reality set in. The Wentworths had closed nearly every door. She’d have to scrape together enough money for an attorney and for Perry. God help her if they blocked the sale of the house somehow.

“Emily?”

The deep voice that she shouldn’t have recognized so easily sent a flood of hope through her. “Mitch.” She turned, then rushed over to him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were SWAT.”

“Temporary assignment while I’m rehabbing.” He clasped her arm and guided her toward a chair next to a desk with his name. “What’s going on?”

Mitch’s concern wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She looked up as he escorted her, strong and able—almost a knight in shining armor. Last night, even though someone had almost killed her, she’d felt safe and protected in his arms after he’d snatched her out of harm’s way. Could she trust him to do the same now?

She had no choice. She had to go with her instincts. She sat down and clutched her evidence satchel meeting his gaze. “Detective Tanner.”

“My temporary boss,” Mitch clarified gently as he hitched his hip on the edge of the desk.

“Oh.” Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea, but she’d run out of options, and no matter what William had advised, she wasn’t giving up. “I received a tip about Ghost’s tattoo, and it reminded me of something from the night of the accident. I asked Tanner to let me see the mug shots or the tattoo database, but he won’t. He wouldn’t even let me see Ghost.”

“Did you see his tat?”

“Well, no, but I heard one of the girls—”

“Tanner’s a real by-the-book kind of guy,” Mitch said. “He doesn’t bend regs. If you didn’t see the tat, he won’t let you at the photos.”

“Do you ever break the rules?”