Chapter 68

CHAPTER 68

“ IT’S NO USE . They’re not here,” said Marple.

She was exhausted and discouraged in equal measure. Her lack of sleep was catching up with her and her eyes were starting to go blurry. She had spent hours sitting next to Rebecca Tran, scrolling through images of missing infants and children, without a single match.

It was just the two of them now. Crouse had gone back to his office, and Dodgett had been called away to help with Jane Robinson’s processing.

Marple had had Tran upload fresh scans of the six missing St. Michael’s newborns and the five missing third graders from Putnam County.

“Two completely different age sets,” said Tran. “Unusual.”

“Any theories?” asked Marple.

Tran toggled back and forth among the faces. “For illegal adoption, the demand is highest for infants. Especially newborns. But some people will pay a premium for an older child. No diapers or bottles to mess with. Easier to transport. If kids are taken before age nine, they’ll easily pick up new languages. Over time, I’ve seen older children totally erase their own pasts. A survival mechanism.”

Tran’s facial recognition software was finely tuned, the best Marple had ever seen. Built into the system was a sophisticated tool that could instantly project what a child would look like from any angle, at any age, with a range of complexions and an endless matrix of hairstyles and shades.

“Who coded this?” asked Marple. “It’s fantastic.”

“I did,” said Tran.

Marple was impressed. She was embarrassed about her earlier assumptions, and quickly coming to realize that Tran was one of the most intuitive and patient investigators she’d ever met.

But there were still no matches.

“Babies are hard,” said Tran. “With their indistinct features. And it may be too soon for the older kids to show up. They could still be in transit.”

“To where?”

“None of them are Asian,” said Tran, “so I’d rule out China and India. The demand there is for indigenous or at least a reasonable facsimile. But for Caucasian children? Bulgaria, Germany, Russia, the Netherlands. Adoption cartels are working in all of those countries.” She hesitated, then added, “Sex traffickers too.”

Marple felt woozy. She stood to stretch her legs and take deep breaths. She walked over to a screen on the back wall showing rotating portraits of adult faces—men and women in their forties. Some smiling, some with defiant stares.

“Who are they?” asked Marple.

“An ongoing project,” said Tran. “Hijos de los Desaparecidos.”

“ Children of the Disappeared ?”

Tran nodded. “When the junta in Argentina was secretly executing leftists in the late ’70s and early ’80s, they often gave the orphaned babies to right-wing families—sometimes politicians or military officers. Those babies are adults now, with kids of their own. And most don’t even know their own pasts. It’s delicate work. We don’t always have DNA as a tool.”

“How many?” asked Marple.

“Hundreds, maybe thousands,” said Tran. “Some we’ll never identify. They’ll go to their graves not knowing that the parents they grew up knowing had their real parents murdered.”

Marple blinked as something clicked in her brain. Something about right-wing politics. She turned to Tran. “Do you have a database on Brexit?” she asked. “Not mainstream. Extremists. Fanatics.”

“Political intelligence? Not my area,” said Tran. “But I’ll bet I can access it.”

“Do it,” said Marple, hurrying over to take her seat at the console again. “We’re looking for racists. White supremacists. People who like their citizens on the pale side.”

Tran cocked her head. “That’s a big category. Can you narrow it down?”

“Maybe,” said Marple. “Look for a woman.”