Chapter Three

"Thank you, Ms. Foxe," Evan said to Marlie, wondering what had put such a wary look on her pretty face.

"Happy to help," she answered tightly.

Evan arched a brow. Liar . The woman looked anything but happy.

Her knuckles were white where she had her long blond braid in a death grip, and the smooth skin over her carotid pulsed rapidly. She shot what he could swear was a panicked look at the door. Bottom line…Marlie Foxe looked ready to bolt faster than a deer on opening day of hunting season.

Her deep blue gaze met his, and he was struck by the sad, haunted look in hers. He'd seen that look. It was the same one he'd seen in the mirror on his own face and those of his parents in the days and months after Gracie disappeared. He wondered if it would ever stop.

Now, for the first time in twenty-four years, he was, potentially, on the verge of discovering the answer to his family's burning question: what happened to their daughter, his sister?

If only he wasn't exhausted. Make that totally beat to shit. He'd barely slept, and then only because he'd had to.

In the two days he'd been waiting to interview Noah, he'd fully briefed his SAIC—Special Agent in Charge—the FBI director via Zoom, the U.S. Attorney's Office in Denver, gotten an arrest warrant for Francis Manello and served another search warrant at the man's house. He and a team of agents had tossed the house from top to bottom. Forensics was dumping every scrap of information on Manello's computer, but all Evan could think about was that Polaroid. He still couldn't believe it, but it was her—Gracie—wearing the same pink shirt she'd had on the last time he'd seen her. Guilt squeezed his heart tighter than a bank vault door.

Focus, dammit! Focus!

"Blue, come." He hitched his head to the dog who'd been his partner for more than four years.

As Blue trotted to the bed, Evan pointed, and his dog situated himself between Marlie and the bed and rested his head on the edge of the mattress. Despite Blue's size, Marlie didn't cringe or back away.

"Can I pet him?" Noah looked at Evan expectantly.

"You bet. That's what I brought him for." Pretty much every kid Noah's age wanted a dog. A dog's attention and comfort were great for improving emotional health, especially after a traumatic experience. The only thing necessary was for the dog to be gentle and friendly, which Blue was. Except when hunting down a homicidal felon.

It wasn't quite a smile, but the corners of Marlie's pink, full lips lifted a fraction as she watched Noah pet Blue. She had the most interesting face he'd ever seen. Heart-shaped. Yet it was her eyes that drew him in. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and he wondered about hers.

"He likes having his ears stroked," Evan said, casting a glance over his shoulder. The good doctor, who looked eerily like an undertaker, would be back soon with those extra chairs. Noah didn't like the man. Getting him out the door, even for a few minutes, seemed like a stellar idea.

Blue leaned into the boy's hand and groaned like he'd just scarfed down a meaty T-bone. The deep rumble in the back of Blue's throat made Noah giggle. He hadn't quite reached adolescence and still had the high-pitched voice of youth.

"Do you like dogs?" he asked, taking the first step in his forensic interview of the boy: establishing rapport.

He nodded.

In the interest of not towering over the bed, Evan sat in the vacant chair, leaving Kinnemara, the FBI's Office for Victim Assistance advocate, standing quietly by the door.

Normally, he'd approach any interview with methodical calm, but that Polaroid of his sister made him feel like a powder keg with a little fuse. He wanted to trash protocol and dive right in. With children, rushing in too quickly could be disastrous. "Did you ever have a dog before?"

Noah shook his head, his attention still focused on Blue. "I wanted one, but Sheila and Mike—my foster parents—wouldn't let me."

No surprise there. Noah Lund's background check had included his former foster parents. Sheila and Mike Hamilton had been too busy peddling drugs out their back door to care about anyone else. He'd bet they'd only taken Noah in to get state money for fostering a child. The state's screening process was seriously flawed. More like, seriously sucked.

Evan caught Marlie scrutinizing him. The haunted look in her eyes had been replaced by something else. Suspicion. Still drilling him with those piercing blue eyes, she rested a hand on Noah's shoulder, telling him something else—North Metro's custodian was protective of the boy. Somehow, in the span of only two days, they'd formed a bond, one he needed to be cautious of. Perhaps, take advantage of.

"Do you like baseball?" The kid's pjs were baseball-themed.

"Yeah." Noah kept petting Blue.

"Me too. I played in school."

Finally, the boy looked up. "What position?"

"Centerfield. You?"

Noah shrugged. "Don't know. Never played on a team. Just with Caleb."

"Who's Caleb?" He already knew the kid had no siblings and no other blood relatives the state was aware of.

"My friend. I think he got caught. He—"

Caught?

Squealing came from the hallway as Dr. Strobie wheeled in two more chairs, positioning one beside Evan's and leaving the other at the foot of the bed for Kinnemara.

Strobie sat and scooted his chair closer. Noah stopped petting Blue and tugged the sheet on his lap higher, gripping it tightly in his fists, as if forming a protective shield. The kid really didn't like the hospital shrink. If he could eject the doc from the room, he gladly would. The man's presence had the same effect as slapping a strip of duct tape over the boy's mouth. Strobie had also procured a legal-size notepad and sat poised with a ballpoint pen in his hand.

This guy was a pain in the ass. The best way to establish rapport and trust with a child was to show them you were listening and that you cared. Not by writing down every word.

"Noah?" Evan leaned forward, willing the kid to look at him. "Do you know why I want to talk with you today?"

Noah stared at his lap, twisting his hands together and biting his lower lip. He looked to Marlie, as if waiting for permission.

"Young man," Strobie said. "Answer Agent McGarry's question."

Marlie's lips compressed as she shot Strobie a look hot enough to melt lead. "He is not a young man. He's a boy . I suggest you remember that, Doctor Strobie."

Strobie's nostrils flared. He opened his mouth, but Evan held up his hand, cutting him off.

Aside from his unexpected connection to the hospital custodian, Noah's experiences with adults had been epic fails, and the doctor wasn't helping any. How had this dickhead managed to get a psychology license?

"It's okay if you don't want to talk right now," he said, hoping to defuse the situation before the custodian leaped over the bed and tackled the doctor, whose face had, again, turned as red as a radish. "How 'bout this? I'll talk, and you jump in if you want to. Okay?"

As he had before, Noah shrugged. "Okay."

Now if only Strobie would keep his big trap shut. "Blue and I are part of a special team that finds missing children. We spend a lot of time talking to kids, keeping them safe. I'd like to find out what happened to you."

He let that sink in for a moment. The doctors had already informed him there'd been no evidence Noah had suffered any kind of physical abuse. But something terrible had happened to him and, possibly, to the other children whose photos had been in that basement. Including Evan's sister.

"You can say anything you want to me," he continued. "If I ask you something you don't understand, tell me. If you don't know the answer to my question, just say so. Only tell me what you actually remember. Okay?" The boy nodded. "Is it all right if I ask you more questions?"

When Noah looked at Marlie, Evan caught her subtle nod of approval.

"I guess so," Noah answered.

"Thanks." Getting a child's narrative first was essential. Afterward, he'd ask about the who, what, where, how, and when. "Can you tell me what happened to you?"

Noah started chewing on his thumbnail. Evan thought he'd been making headway, but he was missing something. Whatever was keeping the boy from opening up. "Are you afraid of getting in trouble?" he asked.

Slowly, the kid nodded. Marlie watched Evan with raised brows, as if waiting for him to say the words Noah needed to hear.

He scooted his chair closer to the bed. "There's nothing you can say to me that would get you in trouble. I promise."

Beside him, Strobie grunted and jotted something on his pad. What a pencil-pushing dick .

Marlie gave the boy's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "You should tell him everything. It might help him find Caleb."

Noah's face lit. So that was the key. Caleb . And the custodian knew it.

"Can you really find him?" Noah asked.

"I'm going to try." He appreciated Marlie's input. Unlike Dr. Strobie's, her words were encouraging. She knew just what Noah needed and what it took to get him talking. "But I'll need your help, so start from the beginning. Maybe with why you ran away. In as much detail as you can remember."

The boy put his fist to his mouth and began chewing on his knuckles. Looked like he'd need a little prompting.

"I don't blame you for running away," Evan said. "Your foster parents weren't nice people." In fact, they took "dickhead" to a whole new level. The kid had good instincts. Stressful family dynamics were one of the leading reasons as many as 2.8 million children ran away from home every year. "I'm sure you had your reasons."

Again, Noah looked at Marlie, and again, she nodded. It was clear he trusted her to look out for him. He took a deep breath before answering. "I don't like Sheila and Mike. They were always mean to me. Sometimes, they didn't give me dinner, and they were always yelling at me. The worst part was they never let me use their computer, and I'm really good with them." He grinned. "Some nights, after they passed out, I snuck in and used their laptop. Figuring out their password was easy. I only got caught once, but it was worth getting yelled at for that."

Evan grunted. Right before she'd disappeared, his sister had gotten into some roaring shout-fests with his dad. "How long ago did you run away?"

Noah's brow wrinkled. "What's today's date?" he asked Marlie.

"October fifth." She tucked a blond strand of hair behind the boy's ear, the movement so seemingly instinctive and maternal.

While looking up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought, he started counting on his fingers. "Then I ran away four months ago."

Sonofabitch . With superhuman willpower, Evan forced his jaw not to clench.

He'd already checked with the Colorado Department of Human Services, Division of Child Welfare. The Hamiltons had never reported Noah missing, not even to the police. They'd kept their mouths shut for four months, so the state wouldn't cut off the money they received to foster Noah. The kid was nothing more than a cash cow, netting them fifty-four dollars a day they obviously hadn't spent on food for him.

Strobie scribbled on his pad, and Kinnemara wrote in his portfolio. That was something that needed to get reported to the local authorities. Meaning, Noah's ex-foster parents would be facing additional charges.

Again, he tamped down his anger. There'd be time to process his own emotions later. Children could read body language. If he telegraphed negative emotions, the kid would shut down even more. The only reason he was getting any info at all was due to Marlie's comforting effect. "Where did you go when you ran away?"

Noah frowned. "To a library to use the computer, but I needed a library card, and I didn't have one."

"So what did you do after that?" Evan asked.

"Um…" Noah twisted his lips, telling Evan whatever the kid had done next was probably something he shouldn't have. Marlie gave Noah a gentle nudge. "I, uh, found someone's card on the floor and used it to get into the computer. I just wanted to see how the Rockies were doing. Honest. I left the card on the table. I swear I didn't keep it."

"I believe you." Chances were the kid had acquired quite a few skills while he'd been on the street. "Where did you go after you left the library?"

"To a Dunkin' Donuts. To wait for Frank. The pool guy."

Frank . As in Francis Manello, the owner of the house Stonewall Jackson Jones had been hiding in. Manello was still in the wind.

Evan had grilled Jones mercilessly about Manello. The two men had met in prison, when Manello had been doing time for burglary. Apparently, he'd once told Jones to stop in anytime. So he did. Jones swore he didn't know anyone was in the basement, and he didn't know anything about Manello's extracurricular activities. On that score, Evan believed him.

"You're talking about the guy who owned the house I found you in?" he asked, needing to be sure.

Noah nodded.

"Did Sheila and Mike have a pool?" he asked, and again Noah nodded. "Did Frank clean their pool?" Another nod. "Did he bring you things, like food or games?"

"Yeah." Noah cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "How'd you know?"

"It's my job to know these things." Like how these a-hole monsters began "the seduction" process, by listening to what kids said, then showering them with attention and gifts, lowering their inhibitions until they got the consent they were after. "After Frank picked you up at the Dunkin' Donuts, did he take you right back to his house?"

"No." Noah shook his head. "We went somewhere else. He made me wear a blindfold. It took a long time to drive there, and I think I slept most of the way."

Or he'd been drugged. So he won't know where he is . Without a specific location, he couldn't get a search warrant. "What did Frank tell you about where he was taking you?"

"He said it was a camp with other kids and that it was a cool place. He said I'd like it, and I hated where I was, so…"

So Manello knew Noah was ripe for running away. "Did you like it at the camp?"

"Yeah, at first, anyway. There was lots of food, so I never went hungry. I met Caleb there. We played ball almost every day. They even let me use a computer, but there wasn't any internet, so that got boring."

No internet. Everyone had internet these days.

"You said you liked the camp at first . What happened to make you not like it?"

"They started making me get up early every day to feed the sheep and work in the fields. They still gave me a lot of food, but they wouldn't let me play ball as much, and they took the laptop away. They even took my mitt, and that was mine ." He pointed to his chest. "I brought it with me."

A hundred more questions, and Evan would only have scratched the surface. "What else didn't you like about the camp?" Could be this was a forced child labor camp.

"I don't know." Without looking at him, Noah twisted his lips and wrinkled his nose.

The kid was shutting down again. Evan caught Marlie's gaze, silently asking her to step in.

"Noah," she said softly. "It's still okay to talk to Agent McGarry. Tell him what else you didn't like about the camp."

"Okay," he said finally. "I didn't like the way everything smelled."

"What did it smell like?" Evan asked.

"Like pot. It got into my clothes, my bed…everything."

"Were there people smoking pot there?" he asked.

"Not that I saw."

Evan tucked that information away for later. "You said there were other kids at the camp," he continued. "Can you tell me about them, like how many are there, and are they boys and girls?"

Gracie had been gone twenty-four years. If she were still alive, she'd be Evan's age. Thirty-six.

When Noah's brow bunched, Marlie rested a hand on his shoulder. "Take your time. Think carefully. It's important."

She had no idea just how important.

"Maybe twenty," Noah said. "A lot of girls, too."

Girls. Not women. "How old are these kids?"

"Caleb's ten. He's a year younger than me, and I'm eleven. Some of the other kids are older, but most of them are my age. Except for the baby." He grimaced. "It was always crying."

"Did all these other kids run away from home, too?"

Before answering, Noah looked at Marlie. Clearly, he didn't want to get the other kids in trouble.

"Tell him," Marlie said.

"Yeah. Except for the baby. I think it was born there."

Evan knew the statistics like the back of his hand. Many runaways were between ten and fourteen and couldn't fully take care of themselves yet. Making them easy prey. The presence of an infant suggested something else entirely. "Are there any adults besides Frank at the camp?"

"Yeah." Noah nodded. "John and Margaret. They told us what to do when Adama and Evelyn weren't there."

Interesting . Sounded like a play on Adam and Eve. "Who are Adama and Evelyn?"

"I think they own the camp."

"Do they have last names?"

Noah thought hard, then shrugged. "I don't know."

"Can you describe them for me? Hair color, eyes?"

He shook his head. "I never saw them, just heard about them."

Absentee owners. Typical of some criminal operations. Frank Manello could be the front-man. John and Margaret, the managers. "What are John and Margaret's last names?"

"I don't know."

Seemed like everyone was careful to hide their identities. "What kind of work did John and Margaret make you do in the fields?"

"Picking vegetables. Beets and corn mostly. And they had honeybees." An impish expression stole over Noah's face. "One time, Caleb and I snuck into the honey shed and stole some honey. It was really good."

Marlie smiled, revealing even white teeth.

"I'll bet it was." Evan chuckled. "How did you get away from the camp?"

"It was easy." He grinned, revealing a dimple in his right cheek. "I hid in the back of a truck. There were so many baskets of stuff to hide behind no one saw me."

"That was really smart of you," Evan said. "Not many kids would have had the guts to try an escape."

"Yeah, but Caleb was supposed to come with me. He never showed up." A shadow crossed Noah's face. "I got caught later jumping out of the truck. That's when Frank stuck me with a needle."

Marlie curled her hand around the bedrail, her knuckles whitening, her face a blank mask.

"Besides you and Caleb, were there any other kids who wanted to leave the camp?" Evan asked.

"Yeah, at least, I think so. When Caleb and I were talking about leaving, some of the other kids were thinking of coming with us. But when it was time to go, Caleb was the only one besides me who tried. I think the others were too scared of getting caught."

That was one relatively good piece of news. When the time came, hopefully there was already enough doubt in the other kids' minds that it wouldn't be too difficult getting them out of there.

Noah's lids began closing. Evan still had enough outstanding questions to interview him for hours, but he was tiring quickly.

When Noah yawned, Marlie gently tapped his shoulder. "Cover your mouth when you yawn, sweetie."

Getting more answers was essential, but he had to be careful not to push too hard or get too invasive. The rest would have to wait for their second interview. Still, there was one question that couldn't wait.

So far, they were looking at runaways, kidnapping, and forced child labor. If the children were being abused, that was a whole different interview. "There's something else I have to ask you. It may be hard to talk about, but it's very important that we do, and you shouldn't be afraid to tell me. Remember what I said. There's nothing you can say that will get you in trouble. Okay?" He waited for Noah to nod before continuing. "When you were at the camp, did anyone…hurt you?"

"Yeah, Frank did." Evan's stomach churned so violently he hoped it didn't make noise. "When that assho—" Noah lowered his head, then looked sheepishly at Marlie, as if he were more afraid of offending her than anything else. "After I jumped out of the truck, he grabbed me and twisted my arm. He was mad at me because he was in a big hurry to make more pickups."

Slowly, Evan let out the breath he'd been holding. Not that hurting and drugging a child was okay in any book, but the other possibilities strafing his mind had been worse. So much worse, it never ceased to make him gag every time he'd encountered it.

Marlie covered her mouth with her hand. Her complexion was fair to begin with. Now it verged on the color of milk. Picking up on her distress, Blue pushed his head into her hand, essentially forcing her to pet him.

"When Frank grabbed you, where did this happen?"

"At one of those big places that sells fruits and vegetables outside."

"A farmers market?" Maybe there were cameras.

"Mmm-hmm. I think so." Again, he yawned, and this time, he covered his mouth with his hand.

"You said Frank was in a hurry to make more pickups," Evan said, sensing time was running out before Noah fell asleep. "Pickups of what?"

"More kids."

He'd been ready to terminate the interview for today, but Noah's last response raised another issue. If Frank was trying to grab more kids, he needed to find that camp, and he needed to find it fast. Before more kids disappeared. "Do you know why Frank was in such a hurry to get more kids?"

"I think it had something to do with the weather and packing up." He yawned again, so broadly Evan could see his tonsils.

"Agent McGarry." Marlie shot him a concerned look. "He's tired."

Was packing up a seasonal thing, or was the camp about to pull up stakes? Evan appreciated her protectiveness of the boy, but she had no way of knowing what was at stake here, and this wasn't just about his sister.

He rested a hand on the kid's arm. "I can see you're sleepy. Would it be all right if I talked to you another day?" Noah nodded. "Do you think you'd recognize the farmers market Frank took you to?"

Marlie gave a quick shake of her head, all while pressing her lips together. Apparently, she didn't like the idea of him taking Noah on a field trip.

"Maybe," Noah said sleepily.

"That's good, Noah. That's really good." It was a start, anyway. "As soon as you get released from the hospital, maybe we can get some ice cream and go look for that farmers market."

"No!" Noah shot upright. "I'm not going anywhere with you! I'll only go if she goes."

" What ?" Marlie jerked back as if she'd been smacked, then shot to her feet. "No." She shook her head. "I can't."

"She's absolutely right," Strobie interjected, having been blissfully silent until now. "She has no standing here. She's not his legal guardian, and she's not trained for this. If anyone goes with you, it will be me."

Fully awake now, Noah pointed a finger at Strobie. "I'm not going anywhere with you ."

Evan had to agree. Sorry, Doc. No dickheads allowed .

If Strobie were anywhere near this, Evan wouldn't get anything else out of the boy. The man had no business working with children. Noah knew it. The custodian knew it.

Marlie Foxe was his only hope, and now there was a ticking clock. He had to find that camp before more children were grabbed. Or they pull up stakes and leave.

"Ms. Foxe?" He rounded the bed, effectively blocking her escape.

Blue got to his feet, watching and waiting for a command.

"No." She shook her head, more forcefully this time. The emotion radiating from her soulful eyes was as easy to decipher as a map. Fear . "I can't go with you."

Too bad. Not with missing children at risk. "I'm sorry, Ms. Foxe." Intentionally, he infringed on her personal space, inhaling the subtle scent of roses. "I won't take no for an answer."