Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(28)

“It probably is.”

Sheriff Burney cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t be calling that poor baby an it.”

Martha held up a finger. She wasn’t finished. “What I can do is give you a guesstimate of how long that baby’s been out here.”

“How long?” Max asked, stepping in closer.

“More likely months rather than days,” Martha said.

“So it’s not the Darden baby,” Afton said.

“It’s not her,” Martha said.

Sheriff Burney grimaced. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Maybe bad for you,” Afton said. “This is your problem now.”

Max shrugged. “We’ve still got the FBI’s crime scene guys coming to take a look.” He turned toward Martha. “If it doesn’t put your nose out of joint, they could probably take the baby back to Minneapolis, get some lab tests going, do a DNA analysis. Maybe even put their guys on the hunt for the parents.”

“Or the killer,” Afton said.

“That’s fine with me,” Martha said. “We’ve got a contract with the ME in Minneapolis anyway. I’m not really trained in forensics; my specialty is pediatrics.”

“Minneapolis PD and the FBI have better equipment and more manpower than we have down here,” Burney said. “So I definitely think that’s the best thing to do, considering the circumstances.”

It was full-on dark now as Afton stared into the woods. A strange thought capered through her brain—trolls stealing babies.

Now where did that come from?

Maybe she’d read about it in one of Poppy’s storybooks. No trolls here, though, she thought to herself. Just a stone-cold killer.

“Here they come,” Sheriff Burney said. He looked past their group at a pair of white-clad techs and a man in civilian garb who were pushing their way toward them. “They made good time.” When they got closer, he called out, “You made good time.”

Afton immediately recognized the man walking in the lead. It was Don Jasper from the FBI’s Chicago office. She’d met him yesterday afternoon in a fleeting introduction outside Thacker’s office. Today he was wearing a nice-looking shearling jacket and a navy stocking cap that said FBI in yellow letters.

The two techs deposited their cases and immediately began securing the perimeter and setting up lights. Once the crime scene resembled an outdoor photo shoot, they readied their cameras and began shooting stills as well as video. One of the techs pulled Martha aside and began discussing protocol for the removal of the body.

“Hey, fella,” Jasper said to Max as they shook hands. Then he turned to Afton and stuck out a hand. “Don Jasper. FBI.” He was tall and lanky with steel gray hair and warm brown eyes the color of precious amber. They seemed to twinkle when he spoke.

“Afton Tangler,” she said. “We met yesterday. Briefly.”

“Oh sure. And you are . . .”

“Minneapolis Police Department liaison.” Afton decided the man was not unattractive. On a scale of one to ten, he was a . . . well, he was definitely up there.

“A liaison on a crime scene when there are no victim’s family present?” Jasper said. “They must think highly of you.”

“It’s more happenstance,” Afton explained. “I was out with Max when he got called down here.”

Jasper cocked his head at her. “So you’re working on the missing Darden baby case, too.”

Afton nodded. “We were just interviewing the execs at Novamed, Richard Darden’s previous employer.”

“Learn anything?”

“Nothing beyond the usual boilerplate bullshit,” Afton said.

“Ah,” Jasper said. “I see you have the proper amount of irreverence and disdain for civilian corporate culture. You’ll fit right in with us.”

“Trying to,” Afton said. Hoping to. She took a step back as Max and Sheriff Burney joined the conversation.

“Did you talk to the two hunters still quarantined back in their truck?” Max asked Jasper.

“There’s an agent interviewing them right now,” Jasper said. “But I don’t think . . .”

“What?” Afton asked.

“I don’t think anything will come of it,” Jasper said.

“They’re just a couple of regular old hunters,” Sheriff Burney said. “Stumbled upon a bad thing and made the right call.” He glanced toward the log. “Oh boy.”

The four of them watched silently as Martha and one of the crime scene techs gently slid the baby out of the log and placed it inside a black vinyl body bag. The bag was then placed upon a child-sized stretcher.

Sheriff Burney slid his hat off his head. “I feel like we should say a prayer or . . .” He stopped and glanced up as the sounds of helicopter rotors split the air.

“What the hell?” Max cried. Now he was looking up, too. “Did our ride just take off?”

The roar was absolutely deafening as a helicopter suddenly appeared over their heads. It hovered above them, swaying slightly, creating a tremendous updraft that turned snow, ice, and bits of leaves into a swirling maelstrom.

Afton gazed up as a bright beam of light suddenly flashed on, encompassing all of them in its glowing circle. Then she saw the red letters that spelled out CHOPPER 7. The unwelcome intruder was Channel 7 News.