Robin Perini - Finding Her Son

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?”

Mitch quirked a small smile. “Let’s just say in SWAT sometimes a little creative thinking is required. I wouldn’t say I break regulations, but I might bend them a bit.”

Hope flickered through Emily as she stared at the man who had taken down Ghost. She leaned forward in her chair and gripped Mitch’s arm. “I need your help to find my son.”

“I’m not a real investigator, Emily. Just on temporary assignment. You need—”

“I need someone who believes in getting at the truth…and in finding Joshua. No one here does. They never have.” Bitterness crept into Emily’s voice. “I know you’ve heard the rumors, but they’re not true. I loved Eric. Please, help me find Joshua.”

She saw the turmoil and indecision in his eyes, and something that almost looked like guilt. “It’s not your fault this department has let me down, but you can change that.”

“Bradford. In my office. Now.”

Tanner’s order made Emily jump, but Mitch had been expecting the interruption. He patted her arm. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.”

He walked into his boss’s office.

“Wentworth came to see me like you said she would. So…what does she want from you?” Tanner asked.

“Help to find her son. Because she doesn’t trust the rest of your unit.”

The detective sank back into his chair and smiled. “This couldn’t be better if I’d planned it. Do it.”

“Tanner—”

“This is your chance. She might let something slip. Maybe her son’s disappearance was part of a plan gone wrong. But even if she’s not involved, she knows something. Tell her you talked me into letting you take over her investigation. Tell her you need to stick close because of Ghost’s escape. Earn her trust.”

“But—”

“Get out there before our chicken panics and runs away. Work Emily any way you can. Find out if she’s into something that got her husband killed and her son taken. I’ll work the money angle. I want to know who murdered Eric Went-worth.”

His boss’s jaw twitched as he passed over a single cardboard box. “Here are copies of the key forensic and evidence reports on the accident and kidnapping. No real leads. Most of that file’s full of initial interviews and her PI’s false tips. It’s been vetted. Show it to Wentworth. Use it to gain her trust and get her reaction.”

“I’ll do my best.” Mitch snagged the evidence and stared at his boss. “Why so rabid on this, Tanner?”

His boss let out a long sigh. “Eric Wentworth called me the day before he died. I’d taken time off. Turned off my cell. Wentworth said he had some vital information for me, but he needed to be discreet. No details on the message. He died before I could return the call. I never turn off my phone anymore.”

“Damn, Dane.”

“Find out who killed him.”

Mitch gave a stiff nod to his boss and pasted a satisfied expression on his face as he returned to the bullpen. He lifted the box. “It took some convincing, but I got the case.”

Emily’s face broke into a relieved smile. Guilt burned through Mitch’s gut. He liked straightforward and honest, not games.

He shifted the evidence in his arms. “Look, we should talk in the conference room, but let’s get out of here first. It may be bending the rules a bit, but there are things I need to tell you, and—” he peered around the room “—we have an audience.”

Emily looked about then turned to Mitch. “I’ve been watched more than enough in this police station. Follow me to my place. Let me show you what I’ve done. Maybe you’ll see something I haven’t.” She snagged a sticky note and pen from the top of his desk and scribbled her address. She handed him the yellow paper. “Just in case I lose you.”

He took the slip but didn’t need the information. He’d memorized her address.