Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(29)

“Go away!” Sheriff Burney yelled as the technicians scrambled frantically to try and salvage what was becoming a messed-up crime scene. “Get the hell outa here!” But his words were drowned out by the frantic beating of the rotors.

High overhead, Afton could see a man with a camera poke his head out the side of the helicopter and begin filming the scene below. Now their entire group was trying to wave the news chopper away, but it held firm. The cameraman continued to film as the coroner and one of the crime scene techs leaned over the stretcher to hopefully protect the baby’s body from the swirling wind.

Afton looked around at the angry faces, the shiny black body bag, and the helicopter hovering overhead like some kind of dark angel. And thought, What a terrible ending to a terrible day.


*

BUT it wasn’t over yet. There was the technical matter of a debriefing at police headquarters. Don Jasper and Harvey Bagin, also with the FBI, huddled with Max and Afton in Deputy Chief Thacker’s office. It was an “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours” type of meeting. The FBI guys had a laundry list of completed tasks and an even longer to-do list. Then it was Max’s turn to sketch out the meeting at Novamed and their findings in Cannon Falls. He did it quickly and efficiently, as if he’d already written the report in his head.

“This Cannon Falls baby isn’t related to the Darden baby kidnapping, is it?” Thacker asked.

“Doubtful,” Max said.

“Okay then,” Thacker said. “Write it all up and give it to me in triplicate.” He looked across his desk at Jasper. “Better make that quadruplicate. We have a lot of different agencies working on this.”


*

THANK goodness you can type,” Max said. He and Afton were squashed into his cubicle, finishing up the last of their report. He yawned, did a slow neck roll, and said, “Long day.”

“You look like you’re badly in need of a decent night’s sleep,” Afton said.

“I’m okay.” Max pulled a jingle of keys from his pants pocket. “I’ll be home in . . .” He stopped, frowned, and said, “Damn.”

Afton looked up from the computer. “What’s wrong?”

“I was gonna stop over at HCMC. Talk to that kid.”

“Ashley Copeland. The babysitter.”

“Yeah, but it’s probably too late now,” Max said. “They probably gave her a sleeping tablet or something.”

“I drive right by that hospital,” Afton said. “I could pop in.”

Max looked mildly interested. “Yeah?” Then he shook his head. “It’s probably a bad idea. If Thacker got wind . . .”

“You don’t trust me? To interview her, I mean.”

“She’s already been interviewed. I was just gonna make a casual inquiry.”

“Because you’re wondering if she might have remembered something else,” Afton said. “Something new.”

“That’d be about it.”

“I can handle that.”

Max continued to stare at her.

“Really,” she said.

Max considered this for a few moments and then nodded. “After the kind of day we just had, I suppose you can.”





14


AFTON eased her Navigator up to a meter on the street outside Hennepin County Medical Center. The glowing clock on the courthouse tower two blocks away said nine o’clock. Late to be visiting someone. Then again, she knew that hospitals were much more lenient about visiting hours these days. And she did carry a police ID.

Inside, the gift shop had just closed, its wooly sheep, plump teddy bears, and tethered balloons keeping their silent vigil in the dark. Afton rode an elevator up to the fifth floor and crept down the hallway looking for Room 522, Ashley’s room. The overhead lights had been dimmed and the floor was quiet but not yet deserted. Nurses floated past on rubber-soled shoes, a patient shuffled along pushing an IV pole down the hall. As Afton passed a few open doors, she heard snatches of quiet conversation, the hum and hiss of machines, and the rattle of privacy curtains being pulled.

Room 522 was at the very end of the hall. Afton stopped outside the door and listened. Nothing. No TV, no talking. Maybe Ashley Copeland was asleep already? Maybe, just as Max had figured, she’d been given a pill to carry her away to dreamland.

Well, she’d come this far. Besides, she knew that Ashley was just a few years older than Tess. Which meant the girl could be huddled under the covers, playing possum and texting like mad.

Afton pushed open the door and stepped into the room. A dim nightlight was on somewhere, but a flimsy privacy curtain had been pulled across one half of the room, blocking her view. Behind the curtain a shadow quivered.

“Ashley?” Afton said. “Are you still awake, honey?”

She put a hand out and slowly pushed the curtain aside.

“My name is Afton Tangler. I’m with the . . .” Afton’s eyes suddenly registered the dark apparition that loomed up on the other side of the sleeping girl’s bed.

“Ashley?” she choked out again. But she knew it wasn’t Ashley. Whoever this dark, menacing person was, they were suddenly lunging directly at her!

Spinning as fast as she could, Afton raced for the door and pulled it open maybe half an inch.