Page 23 of Facing the Enemy
“Of what? Killing a man or withholding information?”
“Both. Normally I’m confident when reviewing a case. I mean, in the past I could examine evidence and make a viable assessment, but not now. Tomorrow is my last day before Christmas break. I’ll have time to work on finding Carson then.”
“Risa, update me on every detail that comes to your attention. Anything suspicious or threatening, you call for help.”
The intensity in his eyes moved me to agree, at least in theory. “My skills as an agent haven’t disappeared. I have my Glock, and I promise I won’t do something crazy. You know I won’t rest until Trenton’s killer is found and justice is served. No point denying it.”
Gage stood from the kitchen counter and took his copy of the story. “I’m always here for you, Risa.”
My heart sped into overtime.
He stared at me with those incredible blue-gray eyes. “We’re still partners in my mind, and I will help you find the killer,” Gage said. “Don’t forget if he hadn’t tossed you aside, you would not be here.”
He nodded his goodbye and left my apartment, leaving me wondering what else he had to say.
12
GAGE
I hated leaving Risa tonight. Not acting on my feelings took all my willpower when I wanted to pull her into my arms. My feelings had deepened, and every time I stared into her face, the intensity grew. We needed a slow approach to our relationship—if we ever were to have one. More than one obstacle stood in our way. I regretted my crammed schedule, but she and I respected the importance of our jobs.
Ignoring the late hour, I ran facial recognition on Carson and emailed the FIG. Tomorrow needed my focus. Carson had been seen midafternoon at a Chevron station on Interstate20 near Abilene. From what I could tell, he traveled alone. Was he driving to Lubbock and on to Colorado to meet his buds? I forwarded Risa the info.
Friday I climbed out of bed at 5a.m. after four hours of sleep. Some people only required a few hours to function, but I needed seven. I planned to pick up Jack and head for a six forty-five breakfast at a local café, then visit as many maternity home centers as possible. I’d walked into maternity homes in the past, and each time, my mind ventured back to my inexcusable past.
By 10a.m., Jack and I had talked to two directors who planned to discuss the baby ring situation with their residents. Now we sat in thedirector’s office of a faith-based facility called Houston Healing and Hope Maternity Care, a residential facility that provided assistance for low-income women. An oval-faced, full-figured woman entered the office and introduced herself.
“I’m Anna Wright, director of Houston Healing and Hope. How can I help you?” She positioned herself behind a desk piled high with books, papers, photos of young women and babies, three cups with various amounts of coffee, and a half-eaten chocolate-sprinkled donut.
We handed her our business cards. She studied Jack and reread his information. “I recognize you, Agent Bradford.”
“Yes, ma’am. Two years ago you were influential in the arrest of an unscrupulous Houston doctor who offered unwed mothers the opportunity to sell their babies to him, and he’d find them a proper home. I worked that case with Special Agent Luke Reardon, not Agent Patterson.”
Why hadn’t Jack told me of his connection to her? He’d asked me to pose the questions so he could observe—unless she showed a preference for him.
Jack offered a rare smile. “I was hoping you’d still be the director here. We appreciated your willingness to help arrest Dr. Zonner.”
She startled. “Is there a problem? Your card says violent crime division.”
Jack glanced at me ... my cue.
“No, ma’am,” I said. “We are a part of that division, but we work crimes against children. We’re investigating the abduction of a baby. Perhaps by an organized ring. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Go right ahead.” She pushed back the partially eaten donut and sighed. “How horrible to buy and sell babies like a commodity. Agent Bradford, I’ll help in whatever way I can.”
She preferred Jack, and I’d be an idiot not to notice. “Since you and Ms. Wright have worked together previously, why don’t you ask the questions, and I’ll write the responses.” I had my trusty legal pad and pen.
“Be glad to,” he said. “Have any of your residents mentioned aprivate adoption agency offering money to help them find a suitable home for their baby? I’m not referring to prospective parents who are willing to reimburse medical expenses or legal agencies, but a criminal action.”
“You mean approaching my girls to buy their babies like Dr. Zonner, who offered his services free and five grand for their child?” She huffed as though angry at the memory.
“Precisely,” Jack said. “Agent Patterson and I want to protect the innocent.”
“Nothing has surfaced at our maternity care center since then. But through gossip, although I frown on the practice, I heard a story about one of our previous residents whose baby is missing. The poor girl is afraid to go to the police.”
“Why? Does she have a record?”
“No, sir. She’s from Vietnam, and I assume she’s an undocumented immigrant. She’s trying to locate her baby through family and friends.” Ms. Wright hesitated. “I have no proof this actually happened or if the baby’s been found.”
