Page 86 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“It’s too bad I can’t ask him about any of this.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Not for him.”

I give her a tolerant smile, but my mind is tightening around my idea, turning it over to make sure it’s solid. If it fits…

“Does the name Floris Van der Hoff ring a bell? Or Vander?”

Heidi shakes her head.

I remember what Vander said to me at Goose Point.She thought she was special, but she was just a whore.

“Do you know all of the children who are in Child Services?” I ask.

“If they’ve been to the OCS facility in McKenzie, yes.”

“Do you know this girl?” I pull up our Jane Doe’s picture. Even though it shows only her face, and her dark hair is dry, her skin has the waxy look of the deceased.

I slide the phone back in front of Heidi.

With one glance, Heidi covers her mouth with her hand and closes her eyes. “My God.”

There’s nothing enjoyable about causing people grief or being the bearer of bad news. It’s a difficult and emotionally draining aspect of being in law enforcement.

But I can’t stop the bright beat of hope pulsing through me.

Terrilynn Silva and Jane Doe were both foster kids, at the same state-run facility where Kristov Stoll made several visits.

I now have a thread I can use to unravel this mystery strand by fucking strand.

Leaning forward on forearms, I clasp my hands together. “Help me catch her killer, Heidi. Help me stop children from having their dreams stolen from them.”

Heidi dabs her eyes with her fingertips and huffs a pained sigh. “Her name is Alisha Farrell.”

A thank you is on the tip of my tongue when my phone buzzes. It’s Brian Ambrose.

Stoll’s DNA is a match

ChapterTwenty-Four

SETH

When I enterthe ATF’s conference room, the Blackstone Task Force is already there, including Hunter. I give Agent Snow and Homeland Security Specialist Everett Madison a quick hello, and shake hands with Special Agent in Charge Mal Gunderson, Brian’s boss, before taking a seat.

Hunter slides me a cup of coffee and whispers, “I brought you some of Petra’s lasagna.”

I bump his fist in gratitude. My takeout dinner is still sitting on my desk.

“Okay if I start?” I ask as Brian walks to the whiteboard.

He spins, his eyebrows arched in anticipation. All eyes in the room turn to me.

“I have our Jane Doe’s ID. Her name is Alisha Farrell. She was in foster care for a period six months ago.”

“Heidi get you that?” Brian asks, writing “Alisha” on the board.

“She has no close family, but I notified her cousin. I scheduled a press conference in an hour to make the announcement. I also got Terrilynn’s notebook,” I say, and set it on the table, still inside its plastic sheath, then pass it to Agent Snow.

Agent Snow opens her laptop and starts typing.

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