Page 18 of Ultimate Justice

The call disconnected. The dial tone was an angry buzz, replacing the absolute silence in the room.

“Have you told your parents?” Brian asked.

“Not yet.” That was a conversation he dreaded, especially since he didn’t know if Gracie was alive or dead, or if she was even at the camp or had ever been at the camp. But his parents might be able to help with the connection between Gracie and Manello. Even with the Polaroid, the likelihood of finding her there was still slim to none. If she was alive, why wouldn’t she have contacted her family after all this time? Had they brainwashed her?

Brian leaned back and crossed his arms. “Even if the director okays you to remain on the case, I can assign someone else to reinterview your parents. If it’s too difficult for you, you don’t have to be the one to do it.”

“I know.” He’d already considered that. “I’ll talk to them. It’s my responsibility.” In more ways than one.

With his birthday—Gracie’s birthday, too—coming up in less than a week, telling his parents would make things worse. Long ago, his birthday had ceased to be a day of joy or celebration. Now it was a day of remembrance, sadness, grief, and the ever-present guilt.

“I hope you find her,” Lori said, compassion creasing her features. “I’m assigning Brett full-time to assist you in any way you need.”

“Same goes for Deck,” Santiago said.

“Thanks.” He never doubted his friends would have his back. Knowing all the bosses did, too, added another layer of support.

“I’ll let you know when the decision comes down,” Brian said. “Meantime, keep me posted. On everything.”

A moment later, he stood outside his boss’s office and breathed a little easier. It wasn’t a done deal, but at least there was hope.

“Evan?” Sammy held up a thick stack of papers and grimaced. The background check on Marlie. Whatever she’d found wasn’t good.

He went into her office, taking the report and noting Blue hadn’t budged from Crystal’s crate. Both dogs’ eyes were closed in what looked like blissful slumber, making him jealous as hell. He doubted he’d have a minute of sleep, blissful or otherwise, until this case was taken down and those children found. He sat in the only other chair and began flipping through pages.

Marlie Foxe, born in Long Island, New York. Currently living in an apartment in the Bel Mar section of Lakewood. No wants, no warrants. As stellar citizens went, she was cleaner than the proverbial whistle.

The next few pages documented a marriage to and subsequent divorce from Christopher Parker, who resided in Littleton. He kept flipping through Marlie’s employment records. North Metro Hospital for the last two-and-a-half years. Prior to that, Lakewood Middle School.

As a school counselor.

Marlie Parker had a doctorate in child psychology. That certainly explained how she could have established such quick rapport with Noah. She had the training chops and then some. But why would someone with a doctorate be working as a custodian?

He flipped to the next page, and—

His blood went colder than a glacier. Every inch of his intestines twisted tighter than the spring in the barrel of his Glock. He glanced up to find Sammy watching him sympathetically, clearly waiting until he’d gotten to that part of the report. No wonder Marlie hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. He’d been expecting something bad. This was far, far worse than he could have imagined.

It was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, a mother’s worst nightmare.

Chapter Six

The sun shined brightly overhead, and a cool early autumn breeze blew onto the patio, bringing with it the scent of pumpkin spice latte from the café.

“Did you see Noah last night?” Tish asked, then took a sip of her coffee.

Marlie nodded. “Yes.” He’d talked. She hadn’t.

“How did he take the news? Is he excited to be staying with you?”

“I haven’t told him yet.” Coward that she was.

“Why in the world not?” Tish rested her forearms on the café table. “The board agreed to let you use all your vacation time at once. That’s more than two weeks. If it takes longer, your job will still be here.”

Crap. The last of her excuses for not becoming Noah’s legal guardian—even temporarily—had just blown away on the wind. She’d been counting on the board declining Tish’s request.

Slowly, she began shaking her head. “I’m not sure I can do this, after all.”

“Then why are you here? You said you were meeting that agent at ten o’clock.” She looked at her watch. “It’s nine forty-five. Why aren’t you hopping in your truck and hauling ass?”