Chapter Twelve

Kicks were in, and the Colorado Mills mall had more sneaker and shoe outlet stores than Marlie could count.

As was typical for a Sunday, the mall was slow to pack up. The aisles were still passable without knocking into someone. Mouthwatering smells from the Cinnabon counter in the food court wafted their way, making her stomach rumble, and no wonder. It was lunchtime.

At ten-fifteen that morning, she'd received a message from Evan saying he'd be late and would text again when he was on his way. By eleven, she'd given up on him. Maybe he didn't take her guardianship duties to heart, but she did. Allowing Noah to go to school without basic supplies and dressed in clothes that didn't fit him wasn't going to happen.

"Can I get these?" Noah pressed a finger on the window, much as he'd been doing at every sneaker store they'd passed.

"Which ones?" She set the two shopping bags on the floor, praying he didn't have his heart set on the most expensive sneakers in the display—the black Nike Air Jordans with the white Swoosh.

"The black Air Jordans." He gave her a smile that was halfway to a grimace, as if he expected her to shut him down. "Pleeease?"

She glanced at the bags loaded with jeans, shirts, sweatshirts, a jacket and gloves, plus other essentials, and they had yet to hit Target for school supplies. Eventually, the State would provide her with a stipend for things Noah would need. For now, everything came from her own pocket. But every time they'd bought something he wanted, the happiness on his face was worth the cost. She couldn't have said no to him any more than she would have turned down a massage for her aching feet.

"Okay." She sighed, picking up the heavy bags. I am such a sucker . "Let's go try them on."

Noah spun and practically ran inside the store so quickly Marlie could only shake her head. Last night, she'd checked on him after he'd fallen asleep. Like the previous night, he'd slept but tossed and turned, hugging the pillow to his chest. If a pair of cool sneakers was what it took to bring a smile to his face and the positive attitude change she'd witnessed in the last few days, that was the only stipend she needed.

Minutes later, he slipped into a brand-new pair of Nikes and sprinted down the aisle on a test run. "Don't run in the store!" she called after him, knowing her warning fell on deaf ears. Sadly, he'd probably outgrow them within the year. Aiden had been growing like a weed when—

She stiffened, waiting for the inevitable, gut-wrenching sob that usually accompanied the awful reality her little boy would never try on another pair of sneakers. The sob didn't come. It was there, all right, but didn't escape her lips. The all-consuming sadness that had become as much a part of her everyday existence as breathing was also still there, just not quite as much.

Noah rounded the shelves, breathing heavily. His cheeks were pink, and there was a brightness in his eyes to go with the ear-to-ear smile coming more easily every day. "Can I have them?"

"Yes." Definitely a sucker . "You can have them."

Noah did a hearty fist pump. "Yesss!"

His joy filled her with a lightness she hadn't experienced in a very, very long time.

"Put your hospital sneakers in the Nike box." She pointed to the empty box on the floor, then gathered their bags and headed for the cashier line. When the cashier opened the box, Marlie pointed to Noah's feet. "He's wearing them to go."

Keeping one eye on Noah, she handed over her credit card. After yesterday, she worried a bit more for his safety. Maybe she should get him a cell phone. Then again, with his online aptitude, she could only imagine the trouble he'd get into. Speaking of trouble, if Wyoming really was where the camp was located, taking Noah there would be like dragging him back into the lion's den.

Evan and Blue would be there, so what could possibly happen? Evan had been so protective yesterday at the farmers market. She didn't doubt his abilities to protect Noah. What she doubted was whether she could control her body's responses to Evan's touch. As for what could possibly happen…

She shivered. More goose bumps. That's what can happen.

When he'd tucked a strand of hair behind her ear yesterday, goose bumps had spread like wildfire across her back, and when she'd caught him staring at her while she'd licked the ice cream cone… Well, let's just say she'd been grateful for wearing a sweater to hide her puckering nipples.

When the cashier returned it, Marlie tucked her credit card back into her wallet. "C'mon, let's go," she said to Noah.

He didn't budge. With his back to her, maybe he hadn't heard her. She gave his shoulder a quick shake. "Noah? We need to go."

"He's here," he whispered, his arm shaking as he lifted it and pointed. "Frank."

She whipped her head in the direction he was pointing—toward the back of the store. At the end of the aisle stood a few teenage girls oohing and aahing at a pair of knee-high leather boots, but no men. "Frank Manello? Are you sure?" When he nodded jerkily, she gripped his shoulder tighter. "Let's get out of here." Holding all three bags in one hand, she grabbed Noah's hand and dragged him out the door.

The mall was even busier now, the aisles jammed with people. Music piped overhead, but all she could hear was the racing beat of her heart as it pumped icy rage through her veins.

Bastard . How dare he try taking Noah again!

She hustled them to the nearest exit, continually looking over her shoulder. The driver's license photo Evan had showed them blinked in her head. No one behind them looked remotely like Manello.

That didn't mean he wasn't there, lurking in the throng milling around the mall.

"Hey!" a man growled as the bags whacked him in the legs. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," she muttered, shoving through the crowd, and all the while never releasing Noah's hand.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! That's what she was for not waiting for Evan.

Finally, she pushed through the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Now to find her pickup and get the heck out of there. They'd parked clear on the other side of the mall.

Noah's face twisted with fear, and she could swear a single tear leaked from the corner of his eye. Seeing that one tear spurred her to move faster.

They speed-walked down the sidewalk in front of the mall. Luckily, the historically accurate color of her truck—Meadow Green—made it stand out in the sea of mostly gray, blue, and white vehicles. Like the Jolly Green Giant .

"Hurry!" They started running, the bags thumping against the side of her leg. A few people turned to stare as they rushed past.

"M-Marlie?" Noah grabbed her arm, stopping her.

Coming toward them, walking with his hands in his pockets, as if he didn't have a care in the world, was a man who could be—

Frank Manello.

"Oh God." Her heart pounded harder as she glanced back at the mall. Again… What had she been thinking?

A few people here and there walked between the rows of cars, coming and going, but would they really help if she asked?

What she should have done was stay inside where there were lots of people. She could have called mall security. Idiot. Idiot . Manello had successfully herded them outside.

The pickup was still several rows away. They weren't going to make it.

She spun, putting herself between Manello and Noah, shielding his body with her own. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. Every protective, maternal instinct inside her kicked in full force, and she fisted her hands, ready for battle.

If anyone tried to take Noah or hurt him in any way, they'd have to go through her first.

…

On an active missing children case nobody took a Sunday off. The Operation Missing war room was full, not a single empty seat. Twelve FBI agents, six detectives from Denver PD and local townships, plus Deck, Brett, Sammy Aikens, and SAIC Brian Mimoa.

The investigation board was also full. Color copies of the twenty missing kids were taped to one side. Names had been written in black marker beneath the ones who'd been ID'd. The other side of the board displayed a flow chart with Adama's and Evelyn's names circled at the top, John and Margaret beneath theirs, followed by Manello and his most recent DL photo. Mile High Pool Cleaning, Blue Waters, and the owner of Blue Waters, Arthur Constantino, had been written off to the side.

The old black-and-white clock on the wall read noon. Evan was surprised he hadn't received a scathing text response from Marlie about being late. Not that he could blame her if he had. The day had just gotten away from him.

Sammy had let Crystal out of her crate and brought her into the conference room where she lay in a corner, her pointed white ears twitching as she listened to the chatter. In a less than subtle effort to impress, Blue strutted around the long oval table for what had to be the third time before lying down next to the other dog. His dog was so in love it wasn't funny. He didn't want to think what Blue would do when Crystal was adopted. Probably mope around like a teenage boy who'd gotten dumped for the first time.

"Let's get started." Evan made his way to the board. Last night, he'd given Brian a quick update on everything that had gone down yesterday, but the rest of the teams needed to hear it.

For the next five minutes, he summarized events at the farmers market, followed by his theory that the camp was located two hours away in Wyoming.

Sammy held up a pen. "You asked for a lookup on that vendor. She has a prior for possession with intent to distribute, but that was before recreational marijuana was legalized. No arrests since then."

"Thanks, Sammy." Evan added the vendor's name to the board. "Any luck with the video cameras at the market?"

"Some, but nothing conclusive," one of the Denver cops said. "Stand by. I'll cue it up." An image flickered on the screen on the other side of the room. "The cameras in front of the strip mall shops don't show anything. Too many tents in the way. One of the city pole cams caught this."

They watched as a man wearing a red shirt and the woman with him walked through the parked cars to a truck with wood side rails. Their backs were to the camera.

"Here's the problem." The cop pointed to the screen. Just when the camera would have picked up the rear tag of the truck, another vehicle pulled up behind it, blocking the license plate.

Another dead end.

"What do you think about those names, Adama and Evelyn?" Deck sat back, crossing his arms. "Sounds like Adam and Eve."

"Sounds cultish," Brett said.

"Which is kinda what this camp is," Evan agreed. Didn't take a world class investigator to know those weren't their real names, either. "Sammy, can you run a geographical survey check for properties in southern Wyoming, about two hours from the market heading north on I-25? I'm not sure what we're looking for exactly or how big the camp is. There could be marijuana fields, so it might be larger than a typical residential plot. Look for something with white houses and large metal buildings."

"You got it." Sammy made a note on her pad.

"Where are we at with Manello's email account?" Evan asked Brett.

"We served that warrant on the email service provider," Brett said. "And the AUSA tacked on a letter of urgency. As soon as we get a response, you'll be my first call."

"Good. So far, all the evidence indicates Manello is just the wrangler of this operation, reeling in the kids and getting them to the camp. My bet is he's taking orders from either John and Margaret, or Evelyn and Adama. Maybe he sends them the photos for approval." With any luck, that locked email account would lead them straight to the ringleaders. "What about social media accounts?"

Sammy flipped to another page on her pad. "Manello has accounts on Facebook and TikTok. He's following a few kids in both places."

"If he's trolling for kids online, that might explain why two of the recently missing kids' families didn't have pools." He looked at Deck. "Let's put together an affidavit for warrants on Facebook and TikTok ASAP."

"You got it." Deck made a note on his pad.

Tony held up his hand. "There are kids playing baseball in one of the photos we pulled from Manello's computer. We're trying to identify the park."

"Then he's definitely trolling for kids organically. Parks, playgrounds, maybe shopping malls." Speaking of malls, at this point he was so late for hooking up with Marlie and Noah, they'd have to put off the shopping spree, which would piss off Marlie again. "Sammy, did you get a response from DOL on Manello's employment history?"

She nodded. "The only employer he ever worked for is his own company, Mile High Pool Cleaning. He's the sole owner and the only employee."

"Didn't you say Manello started that company five years ago?" he asked, looking at Deck, who nodded. "Who did he work for before he started Mile High?"

"No one," Sammy said. "At least, no one DOL has a record for."

Then he was missing something. Manello had to be working somewhere before he started Mile High Pool Cleaning. "Were you able to interview Arthur Constantino, the owner of Blue Waters?" he asked Deck.

Deck shook his head. "We tried. He wasn't home, and both his neighbors said the same thing, that he's on vacay with his wife in Greece. He won't be back until sometime next week."

Evan rubbed his jaw. "Six of the missing kids came from homes that used Blue Waters more than five years ago, before Mile High even existed." Too much coincidence in his book. "Even if Manello never worked for Blue Waters, there's gotta be a connection between that company and those missing kids."

"Constantino could be involved," Brett suggested.

Evan nodded. "There could be two wranglers working for Evelyn and Adama. Constantino just rose to the top of the to-be-interviewed list. Brett, get with HSI and find out exactly when Constantino is coming back to the US. I want to know what plane he's on and what time it lands at DIA. We're gonna grab him right off the jetway."

"On it." Brett began tapping on his phone.

"By the way," Sammy said, "Constantino has no priors."

"Thanks. Anything else?" He looked around the room, giving all present the opportunity to add something. "Thank you, everyone," he said, motioning to his dog.

With obvious reluctance, Blue got to his feet, giving Crystal a woeful whine before padding after Evan. In the hallway, Evan yawned. A gallon of coffee was needed before the trek to Wyoming.

"Getting any sleep?" Brian asked.

No . Once a big case kicked in, sleep was off the table. "Yes," he lied, and his boss chuckled. The man knew him well.

Last night, he and Blue had stood guard outside Marlie's building until well after midnight. When they'd gotten home, he'd spent another thirty minutes combing the underside of the SUV with a flashlight, searching for a tracker and not finding one. It wasn't that he really thought they'd been followed. Instinct told him something was coming. Something bad.

"Find a way to get some shut-eye," Brian said. "That's an order."

"Yes sir."

His phone buzzed with an incoming call. Marlie's name lit the screen. "I'm leaving the office now. I should be at your place in—"

What she said next had him gripping the phone tighter.

That something bad his gut told him was coming…

Was already here.