Page 24 of Rescuing Sara

“I was glad to do it,” Stanley told her. “And amazed at how calm you seemed that day. After you left, I asked Miller to keep me informed as much as he could, and he’s told me everything that’s happened since Leo died.”

Recalling everything Mac, Anne and Patrick had told her, Danni asked, “Do you really think it was The Cadre?”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” Stanley declared. “I’d have called Brotherhood Protectors myself if you hadn’t asked me. And The Cadre would probably have guessed you wrote,Where Are the Children?even if it weren’t under your byline. I’m afraid that series has put a target on your back. Do you want to stop writing it?”

Danni raised her chin. “Absolutely not.”

Stanley smiled. “I didn’t think so. Write the piece on Sara and let me see it before we go to press. You’re a damn good writer, Danni, and I’ll bet you’re just as good teaching those skills to your journalism students.”

A wave of affection for this good and brave man threatened to overwhelm Danni. Instead, she simply said, “Just one question. What about Mr. Friedman?”

“I don’t give a tinker’s damn at this point.” Stanley’s scowl would scare anyone, including their august owner. “He’s already annoyed I’m letting you write that series anyway. What’s one more thing. Can you have the article ready in two days?”

“You bet,” Danni said using one of her father’s old phrases.

Her phone buzzed again and, giving her boss an apologetic smile, took it out. One look at the screen sent her heart pounding again as she headed to the hall to accept the call. “Sergeant Miller?”

“Thought you would like to know that Mrs. Fredrick Everett has been hospitalized due to a nervous breakdown and is unavailable for questioning,” Miller drawled. “Her husband took her to a private place in North Carolina early this morning, or so their housekeeper says. She’s not sure when he will be back.”

“Rats,” Danni answered, using the lady-like expression her father taught her to use in public instead of one of the saltier ones she’d picked up at the police station. “I don’t suppose we know where either?”

“Nope,” Miller replied. “Wouldn’t matter even if we did. Captain Haggerty will send someone around in a few days to talk to Everett about what he knew and why he didn’t tell us. Hope it’s me ‘cause I would love to have a man to man with that piece of work.”

“And I’d pay good money to watch that happen,” Danni told him. Under Grant Miller’s cool, unflappable exterior was a temper seldom seen and a determination of steel to seeing his cases through to the end. Her father’s nickname for Miller was ‘The Terrier.’ “Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Talk to you later.”

“Bad news?” Patrick asked as she returned.

“Interesting,” Danni described. “Stanley, I’ll get started on that article later this afternoon and get it to you tonight or sometime tomorrow.”

“That will do,” Stanley agreed. “Call me if you need me. Good to have met you, Patrick.”

Once they were in the lobby, Patrick texted Kristopher to come get them and looked at Danni. “What’s the interesting news?”

She told him and his dark eyebrows drew together. “‘Curiouser and curiouser’”, he announced, quotingAlice in Wonderland. “How terribly convenient.”

“That’s what Sergeant Miller said,” Danni sighed. “Though I doubt Mrs. Everett would have talked to us again.”

“Probably not,” Patrick agreed. “Ah, there comes our wheels.”

The black-and-white pulled to the curb and they climbed into the back. The scent of olive oil, oregano and rice scented the car’s interior, making Danni’s mouth water. “Oooh,” she sighed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Lunch fromTheo’s Taverna, Knoxville’s finest and most authentic Greek restaurant,” Kristopher announced. “‘Good for body and soul’ as their motto says. I thought you’d be hungry after being gone all morning, and this way we won’t have to clean up the kitchen.”

“A man after my own heart,” Patrick declared. “We’ll bring you up to speed when we get back to the Safehouse. Especially, Danni, about us going to look for Silas ‘the almost Amish boy.’”

CHAPTER 9

Later that night.

Muffled sobbing from under the blanket nearly shook the bed next to Sara’s. Otherwise, the room was completely silent. She and the two other girls had learned that when the staff said “lights out” that was that, including no talking, unless you wanted to have one of them come back and yell at you. At least they let them stay up until nine-thirty. They all might be ten, but that didn’t mean they were babies.

But this girl just arrived yesterday, was still learning the rules and anyone could tell she was terrified. Remembering her first few lonely days here, Sara slipped out her bed and without asking, got into the new girl’s bed. If staff heard her crying, they might all be punished.

“Sh-h-h,” she whispered. “Don’t cry. We don’t want the staff to come back.”

“I want to go home,” the girl whimpered, sitting up. “Please let me go home.”

“I know, but try not to cry,” Sara urged, putting her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “My name is Sara Turner. What’s yours?”

---