Chapter Eight

During the ninety minutes it had taken for Marlie to sign all the requisite forms and get Noah checked out of the hospital, Evan had met with security and reviewed camera footage. The cams had picked up one person matching the description the nurse had given, but his head was down, and they couldn't track him back to any vehicle parked in the hospital lot. Bottom line, they had jack to go on. That didn't stop his gut from twitching out a steady warning that trouble was following Noah.

They went outside onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital. Noah held a small bag of toiletries the hospital had provided, petting Blue's head as they walked. His dog seemed to have a positive effect on the kid. The dark circles under Noah's eyes weren't quite as dark today.

Evan squinted as the late afternoon sun threatened to fry his retinas. In the sun, the dry air was still warm, but the second autumn kicked in full blast, the temperature would drop like a rock in the shade. That was Denver.

"Remember to look both ways before stepping into traffic." Marlie put a restraining hand on Noah's shoulder. The woman might as well have the words "good mother" stamped on her forehead. Another reason he had absolute faith she was the right person to be Noah's legal guardian. Even if she didn't realize it.

"I'm not a baby ," Noah said, looking down at his feet. In addition to washing his clothes, someone had dug him up a pair of sneakers.

They headed for Evan's Expedition, stopping a moment for Blue to take care of business on a fire hydrant.

Marlie's hand still rested on the boy's shoulder, guiding him toward the SUV. "As soon as we get back to my truck, we're going straight to the store. You're going to need new clothes and supplies for school."

Noah's face scrunched up again. " School? Do I really have to go?"

"Yes. You really do. It's the law, by the way. All children have to go to school, and it's my job to make sure you do." She ruffled his hair, a gesture that seemed so natural.

Yep . Definitely the right choice.

While Marlie and Noah got in the front seat, he loaded Blue into his kennel. He slid behind the wheel, confirming Noah had buckled himself in. He had, but kept twisting around to scratch Blue's chin and laughing when Blue kept licking his face. Good dog . Anything to keep the kid's mind off the fact somebody was looking to drag him back to the camp.

Evan started the engine but didn't put it in reverse. He was betting Marlie wouldn't like what he had to say next. "After I drive you back to your truck, we need to make a pitstop. All of us."

" All of us?" Sure enough, she shot him a glare frosty enough to freeze his nuts off. "Where to?"

"The FBI office. I need to show Noah some photos." And pepper him with more questions.

"We're going to the FBI office?" Noah asked in an excited voice. "Like on TV?"

"Yep." Evan nodded. "Just like on TV."

"Awesome."

"You failed to mention anything about this little detour. What else aren't you telling me?" When he didn't answer, her lips compressed into a thin line. "How long will this take?" she asked tightly.

"Won't know until we're done." He cranked the SUV into reverse.

She must have been one heck of a good psychologist. They'd been in each other's company for a grand total of maybe three hours, and she saw right through him, knew there was something he wasn't telling her. That his sister might be at the camp . "Where are you parked?"

"Outside the café where we met. I was parked right behind you."

He headed into traffic and stopped for a red light. The only vehicle that had been parked behind him was that classic Ford pickup in mint condition. "That green truck is yours ?" He couldn't conceal the incredulity in his voice. When he was a kid, one of his friend's fathers had refurbished an old pickup, and he'd loved going for rides in it.

The hint of a smile curved her lips. "You can stick your eyeballs back in your head. They're about to pop out."

"Sorry." He laughed. "Just a little surprised."

"Can't a woman drive a classic 1956 Ford F-100 pickup? Does the FBI have a rule against it?"

She was right. His reaction had been sexist. Though unintentional. "It's a beauty."

"Thank you." She smiled smugly. "My father and I restored it together."

"Cool," Noah said. "I like pickup trucks."

"So do I." She smiled, genuinely, this time.

Crisis averted . No matter how irritated she was by him , Noah could change her mood in a heartbeat. With the kid, she had the patience of a saint. He, however, seemed to bring out her inner ice queen.

Moments later, he pulled up next to Marlie's truck. "What's your cell number?"

As she recited the number, he created a new contact in his phone and sent her the address of the Denver FBI office. Her phone dinged. "I just sent you my office address. Follow me there, but if we get separated, I'll wait for you and get you into the parking garage." Watching in the sideview mirror, he waited for her and Noah to get into the pickup.

Ideally, he'd put the boy in protective custody. Not only couldn't he justify that, but it would only add to the trauma Noah had experienced, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

That didn't stop his brain from blinking out a glowing neon warning.

Someone was looking for Noah.

Evan held his key card up to the reader. When the lock clicked, he pushed on the door, holding it open for Marlie and Noah. She draped her arm around the kid's shoulders, as if she were trying to protect him from the big bad FBI.

The second Blue crossed into the hallway, he stopped short and snorted. His long ears went fully erect, and he held his head high. Then he all but dragged Evan down the hall, beelining for Sammy's office. Which could mean only one thing. Crystal was still there.

"Where's he going?" Noah asked.

Evan chuckled. "To see his girlfriend."

"Blue has a girlfriend ?" Noah shot him a curious look. "He's a dog ."

"Even dogs can fall in love," Marlie countered.

"Eww." Noah wrinkled his nose. "Gross."

"Someday you'll understand," she said, and was that another smile on her face?

Damn, she really was pretty.

Blue continued dragging Evan down the hall, doing that John Travolta strutting thing.

Crystal sat up, her tail swishing back and forth like a big white feather. He'd once read in a dog encyclopedia that Samoyeds were nicknamed "the dog with the smiling face." Now he understood why. She really did look like she was smiling.

"Hey, Sammy." Evan unclipped the leash, and Blue shot straight to the crate, shoving his snout through the bars and touching the tip of Crystal's nose.

"Hi, Evan. I see you have visitors."

"This is Marlie Foxe and Noah Lund. They're helping me on the case." He sat on a corner of the desk. "This is Sammy Aikens. She'll set you up with visitors' badges."

"Hi," Sammy said. She indicated a chair for Marlie to sit in. "Grab a seat."

"Wow. She's so fluffy." Noah dropped to his knees beside Blue in front of the crate. He lifted his hand to stick it through the bars.

Evan and Marlie moved at the same time, both reaching for Noah's arm. Evan was closer, and grabbed the kid's hand. Marlie's came to rest on top of his fingers. Her touch was light, warm, like being caressed by a lover. Goddammit . Thinking about her in those terms was as smart as touching a live wire, which was exactly how it had felt. He caught the startled look in her eyes right before she yanked her hand away.

He cleared his throat, his lungs filling with her sweet rose scent. "It's never a good idea to stick your hand inside a dog's cage. It's their home, and you never know how they'll react."

The kid's face fell. "I just wanted to pet her."

"Noah, can you sit up here for me a sec?" Sammy adjusted the camera, but his attention was riveted to the canine romance playing out between Blue and Crystal. "Noah?"

Even Evan had to admit it was cute seeing his tough-guy K-9 totally smitten. High-pitched whining that sounded more like chortles came from his dog's throat. Was Blue actually whimpering?

"Noah!" Marlie nudged his shoulder.

"Huh?" The kid hadn't heard a word Sammy said, but the minute Marlie called his name, he responded like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

As soon as their badges had been printed and clipped on, Evan hitched his head to Blue, who'd taken up residence beside Crystal's crate. "Think you can keep an eye on lover-boy for me?"

"Sure, no problem." Sammy grinned. "Don't forget these." She handed him a plastic bag containing the purchases he'd made yesterday.

"Thanks." He led Marlie and Noah to a small conference room.

Farther down the hall, Brett poked his head from another room and waved him over. "Got a minute?"

He nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes with some photos for you to look at," he said to Noah. "Meantime, these should keep you busy." He pulled the latest issue of Sports Illustrated Kids Magazine and three packs of baseball cards from the bag and set them on the table.

"Wow!" Noah ran his hand over the magazine, the cover of which showed the Denver Rockies pitcher posing with some kids about Noah's age. He tore open one of the packs of baseball cards and grinned. If seeing the kid so happy wasn't enough to make Evan laugh, the look of complete and utter shock on Marlie's face did.

She stared at him, and he could swear her jaw was about to drop to the floor.

"What?" Evan threw his arms wide. "He likes baseball."

"It's not that. I-I just…" With her eyes only slightly less wide now, maybe the size of a quarter, she regarded him curiously. "That was very thoughtful."

Yeah right. Thoughtful . Using an adult to further a case was one thing. Getting in good with an eleven-year-old boy for the same reason made him feel about as thoughtful as a cockroach taking a dump. Although he did like Noah. He was a cool kid. Didn't make him feel any better. No matter how many different ways he justified it, he and the FBI were using him. True, to find other missing kids before they disappeared forever, but his motives weren't entirely altruistic. Not with his sister potentially being at the camp.

The way Marlie watched him as he closed the door stirred something inside him. Or maybe that was the full pot of coffee he'd chugged that morning eating away at the lining of his stomach.

He went into "the war room," the largest conference room in the office, and where Brett, Deck, and a dozen other agents were poring over every speck of information the techs had downloaded from Manello's computer. The cherrywood oval table that took up most of the room was covered with laptops and piles of documents. Enlarged color copies of the photos they'd discovered in Manello's basement, plus the dozen new ones found on his computer, had been tacked to one wall. Including his sister's. Twenty in all.

Gray eyes, so like his own, stared back at him. Disappointed, accusing eyes. If only he'd stood up for Gracie that day. If only he hadn't caved to his friends' pressure. If only…

How many times had he run through the different scenarios, pounding his head with other possible outcomes? So many he'd lost count, and it was killing him. Slowly, by painful degrees.

After the perfunctory greetings, Evan sat in the empty chair between Brett and Deck. "What've you got?"

Brett reached behind him to a printer on the credenza and grabbed a stack of sheets. "Here's the affidavit for Manello's email service provider."

After a brief scan to verify the probable cause justifying the warrant jibed with what he remembered, Evan nodded. "Looks good to go."

"I'll email it to the AUSA." Brett started tapping away on his laptop.

"So far," Deck said, "we matched up ten of the photos with reports of missing kids."

"Over what time period?"

"The last ten years." He handed Evan a stack of folders. "They're from all over the state, not just the Denver area."

"This ring could be more widespread than we thought." Evan flipped through the folders. Boys and girls between the ages of ten and sixteen. None were Noah's friend, Caleb.

"The teams are heading out now to reinterview the families," Brett said. "They'll call either me or Deck if they get any hot leads. They'll write up the 302s and email them to you directly." On cue, the other agents at the table packed up their laptops and headed for the door.

Evan closed the last folder he'd been looking at. "Do you have those lineup photos?"

"Yep." Deck handed Evan another folder. "I gave all the teams copies of the same lineup, and I made that other copy you asked for." He held out another folder.

"Thanks, man." He clapped Deck on the shoulder, thankful for competent friends who would be there for him when the professional or personal shit hit the fan.

Evan's boss came in. "Evan, let's talk outside."

They stepped into the hallway. He had a bad feeling about why his boss wanted to talk privately. If he was yanked off the case, he'd have to quit the Bureau, because no way he was about to stand down. "Before you yank me off the case, you should know that Noah had a visitor at the hospital. We tracked him on camera but couldn't make an ID. It wasn't Manello."

Brian massaged his chin. "What do you recommend? Protective custody?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'll keep a close eye on the kid."

"Keep me posted on that," Brian said, nodding. "We need to talk about something else."

Bend over. Here it comes .

"I heard back from the director. He approved you staying on as case agent. But," he added with a meaningful tilt of his head, "that's all pending your ability to remain focused and impartial." He let the words hang in the air. Their meaning was clearer than vodka: don't fuck up. "And you need to keep your personal connection to this case quiet. Don't talk about it to anyone who doesn't already know, especially the media."

"Understood, sir. Thank you." As he watched his boss's receding back, he let out a heavy breath. When he turned around, Marlie eyed him from the open conference room door. She'd crossed her arms, tapping a finger on one biceps. How much—if any—of that conversation had she heard?

He strode toward her. When he started inside the room, her slim fingers latched onto his forearm, and— hell's bells —there was that live wire thing again. Warm tingles—and he was so not a tingling kind of guy—shot to his scalp.

"What was that about?" she asked. He looked to where her fingers still curled around his arm. Her nails were unpainted, her fingers ringless. She let go, recrossing her arms. "Well?"

"Nothing important." Nothing he could discuss, anyway. Even if he could tell her about Gracie, which his boss just unequivocally ordered him not to, telling her the truth would only trash what little trust there was between them. He took a step, but she blocked him. Not that he couldn't brush past her. She couldn't weigh more than one-twenty-five.

"It didn't seem like nothing," she pressed, tilting her head and looking up at him suspiciously.

"It was. We have work to do." This time, he did brush past her and sat next to Noah. He'd opened all three packs of cards. "You like those?"

"Yeah," he said, stacking the cards in what seemed like a specific order. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Evan opened the folder and took out six eight-by-eleven-inch color printouts, lining them up side by side. One was a DMV photo of Frank Manello. The other six were of men of similar appearance, so as not to elicit a response that could be prejudicial to Manello when Evan locked his sorry ass up. "Take a look at these photos for me. Do any of these men look familiar to you? Take your time."

Marlie stood behind them, also looking at the photos.

Less than five seconds passed before Noah planted his finger on the fourth sheet from the left. "This is Frank."

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Positive." Noah nodded enthusiastically.

"What's his story?" Marlie asked.

"His name is Francis aka ‘Frank' Manello." Evan began stuffing the photos back in the folder. "He owns Mile High Pool Cleaning." The photo depicted a man wrinkled beyond his years, sagging jowls, and nearly bald. For a man in his early fifties, the guy could have passed for seventy. Could just be genetics working against him, or it could be from working outside all day in Denver's high-altitude sun.

"Where is he?" Marlie's brow creased. "Is he someone I need to be worried about?"

"Doubtful. He's in the wind. Probably knows we're looking for him." He left Manello's photo on top of the stack. He still had to reinterview his own parents, but he already knew they wouldn't ID Francis Manello. Evan had met the guy who'd been cleaning their pool at the time Gracie had gone missing. It wasn't Manello.

A vague sense of déjà vu settled around him. Vague and yet, at the same time, disturbing. And he didn't know why.

"There's one more photo I'd like you to look at." He pulled the single sheet from the second folder Brett had given him and set it on the table. "Have you ever seen this woman?"

Without hesitation, Noah shook his head. "Nope."

"Did you meet all the women who worked at the camp?"

"Yeah." Noah nodded. "I think so."

"Who is she?" Marlie asked.

Gracie . As she would look today, courtesy of aging software.

"Someone who went missing a long time ago." He hoped and prayed she was still out there somewhere. Anywhere . Living. Breathing. "I thought she might have been taken to the same camp Noah was."

"What's her name?" Marlie asked.

"Doesn't matter. Not if she isn't there." A total lie . She would always matter. One way or the other, he would find her. He shoved the photo back in the folder and closed it.

Marlie watched him with slightly raised brows. She knew he was full of shit. If she ever discovered just how much , she'd accuse him of lying and being deceptive about his motives. And she'd be right.