Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(86)

“Why?”

The elaborate lie Raegan had concocted faltered on her tongue. “Excuse me?”

“Why are you continuing to look into cases that do not concern you? Especially when your job no longer requires you to do so?”

The question threw her. “B-because I know what those families are going through. They just want answers about their children.”

“And you believe you’re the person to provide those answers?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Someone needs to help them.”

Mrs. Kasdan stared at Raegan for several moments, then again said, “Why?”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Why do those parents deserve answers? Oh, I follow the news too, Ms. Devereaux. I’m well aware that most of the children who disappear are either neglected or fall victim to their parents’ selfish lifestyles. Drug addicts, immigrants, prostitutes . . . those kind of people don’t deserve to have children if they can’t take care of them, wouldn’t you agree?”

That tremble of unease in Raegan’s belly turned to a hard rolling wave as she watched Miriam Kasdan step toward the small table and run her pink manicured nails over the heart-shaped piece of denim. In that moment she knew for certain that it wasn’t a beautiful object at all. It was a trophy, one that sent bile shooting up Raegan’s esophagus.

“I—I don’t understand what you mean,” Raegan lied, knowing exactly what the woman meant. Her gaze flicked to the door behind Miriam Kasdan as she contemplated her exit route and how fast she could contact the police.

“And what about the children?” the woman went on as if Raegan hadn’t even spoken. “What do they deserve? A life in squalor like their older siblings, nothing more to look forward to than the next gang fight down the road or learning to turn their own tricks? That’s no life for a child.” She lifted the pinstriped denim heart in her hand and caressed it as a mother caresses a child’s hair. “If those children were given a second chance, if they were with families now who not only cared for them but who gave them the best of everything—the finest educations, summer trips abroad, a future of wealth and privilege—would you still want to help their selfish biological parents find them? Would you take away every opportunity they’ve been given to rise up from the ashes of poverty and sentence them back to a life of despair and hopelessness?” She pinned Raegan with a hard look. “I don’t think you would.”

“Yes, I would,” Raegan said, fighting hard to stay in control and not give herself away. “Because those children still have parents and siblings and people who lo—”

“People who neglected them,” Miriam Kasdan snapped, slapping the heart-shaped piece of fabric on the table. “I see their older siblings. I see those children come into my son’s charity offices looking for a handout. His staff tries to partner them with mentors in the community, but by the time a child is nine or ten, it’s too late. Their environment has shaped them as much as their DNA.”

Anger exploded inside Raegan. She couldn’t hold it back any longer. “So you, what? You steal their younger siblings? Child trafficking is a felony.”

“I don’t see it that way,” Miriam Kasdan said calmly. “I see it as an act of heroism. I save children from horrible lives and even worse futures. Every single child I’ve helped is in a better place now because of me.” She smirked and lifted her hand to point toward a frame on the wall. “Even that one.”

Raegan turned to see what the woman was pointing at and focused on a white scrap with tiny pink hearts that she hadn’t noticed before in the sea of framed hearts—the same fabric in the dress Emma had been wearing the day she’d disappeared.

The blood drained from Raegan’s face, and her own heart felt as if it came to a stuttering stop in the middle of her chest. “No.”

“Yes,” Miriam Kasdan said with a smug grin. “Instead of judging me, you should thank me. I saved your daughter from that degenerate Gilbert, and I’d do it again if I had the chance.”



Raegan wasn’t in the apartment.

Alec walked out of her bedroom and into the living room, glancing around to see if she’d left her keys or cell phone in the hope she’d only run out for a minute and would soon be back. Both were missing, along with her purse.

He tugged his phone out of his pocket and checked to see if she’d texted or responded to his voice message. She hadn’t.

“Damn.”

He was just about to call her when the phone in his hand buzzed. Instead of Raegan’s name, though, Bickam’s flashed on the screen.

His heart rate sped up. A mixture of fear and dread spiraled through his stomach, and he thought of that whiskey again, but he knew he wouldn’t reach for it no matter what he heard. With shaking fingers, he hit “Answer” and lifted the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

“McClane? It’s Bickam. I was about to call Raegan but thought I’d let you know first. I’m looking at the lab report on that scrap of fabric you found on Raegan’s patio.”

“And?” He closed his eyes and focused on his breath. In, out. One lungful at a time.

“The blood isn’t human.”

Alec’s eyes popped open. “What?”