Page 17 of Paternal Instincts
“Cork it, Doyle. Your turn is coming.”
Softening my tone, I pleaded with the only weapon I had. The truth. “Quaid has… connected with this case on a personal level. You know how he does sometimes. It’s a done deal. He’s locked in. I won’t change his mind. Give me what you can so I can take my husband home and start a family. I don’t want him to miss our baby being born.”
The department’s surly IT guy had a soft spot for Quaid, even though he couldn’t admit it. Torin and I teased them endlessly about their bromance, much to Ruiz’s despair, but I liked what they had. He did too, as much as he denied it. Quaid needed good people on his side, and Costa Ruiz had proven to be good people.
In the past eight months, their bond had deepened even more as Quaid sought parenting advice from a man with a soft spot for his two girls.
“I’ll be there in an hour. Meet me in my office. Don’t touch anything. If you want to poke around before I get there, do it from your own computer.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ruiz disconnected without saying goodbye.
Chapter 5
Quaid
The Davises lived on Cragmuir Court in Victoria Village, a short jaunt after exiting the Don Valley Parkway. Their moderate-size family-style home wasn’t extravagant but proved the couple lived well above the poverty line. Nixon had mentioned his business was doing well.
Cragmuir was a quiet cul-de-sac, a stone’s throw from the Don River and trail. The two-story brick dwelling sported a double-wide driveway, large windows, a lawn in desperate need of mowing, and a flowerbed full of weeds. The neglect made me wonder if the nanny was the only staff recently fired.
Sparrow had begrudgingly ridden with her father after Nixon announced she required a tethered booster seat. I didn’t point out it could have been easily moved to the Charger. The distraught man had enough on his plate without wondering why his daughter wanted to abandon him.
Jordyn parked on the street as Nixon pulled into the driveway. She killed the engine, and we silently watched the father exit his vehicle andhead toward the house. A few steps into his retreat, Nixon reversed course to help his daughter out of the car like he’d forgotten she existed.
I clenched my jaw and refrained from commenting.
“He’s scattered, Quaid. It’s normal.”
Of course, Jordyn noticed. My partner was as in tune with me as I was with her.
Nixon scooped the small girl onto his hip and headed to the front door. It was the first act of proper parenting I’d witnessed since finding him in the office. The man unlocked the front door and glanced over his shoulder in our direction to see if we were coming.
Neither Jordyn nor I moved.
Nixon hesitated, then went inside.
“It’s too late to set up roadblocks,” Jordyn said, stating a fact.
I nodded. Three days meant our perp had a massive head start. They could be anywhere. Another city, another province, or even another country. “We need to map the distance between here and the Soccerplex and figure out every possible path the kid might have taken to get there.”
“Nixon mentioned a shortcut across train tracks.”
“It doesn’t mean that’s the way Crow went. His mother might have told him to stick to the road.”
“True. I’ll call the district police and have them send whatever constables they can spare to canvas the street. Should we get sniffer dogs and organize a search party, or is it too late for that too?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” I didn’t mention the handful of times we’d located children’s bodies less than a kilometer or two from their homes. I doubted that would be the case with Crow, not with a note, butI couldn’t dismiss it.
Jordyn made the call and spoke to the local district’s staff sergeant, giving them a brief outline of the situation.
She hung up and tucked her phone away. “They’ll send some constables right away. This abduction won’t be a secret much longer once neighbors are questioned.”
“That’s fine.”
“Are we putting out the Amber Alert?”
“As soon as we get a proper description of the boy and talk to the parents. We might get a better idea of who we’re looking for.”
