Deceived Page 11

Until all at once Todd and his boating partner collided with the other boat as it headed out with a new crew.

  The boys’ paddleboat, already low to the water, tipped. The girls in the second boat shrieked—but it was Todd’s scream of terror that sent a chill down Greg’s spine. As his son began to rise, making the boat rock more, Greg waded into the water, stumbling forward as fast as he could, his pulse pounding.

  “Hold on, Todd. I’m coming. Sit still!”

  If the boy heard him, he gave no indication. He just continued to scream.

  As soon as Greg got to water deep enough to swim in, he struck out for the entangled boats. It took only a dozen powerful strokes to reach them, and within seconds he’d freed the girls’ boat and pushed it aside. Then he moved beside Todd’s seat.

  All the color had leeched from his son’s complexion, and though he’d stopped screaming, his breath was coming in short, shallow puffs as he clung to the side of the boat.

  “Hey, champ. You’re fine. I’m here.” He kept his voice soft, reassuring, but his son merely stared at him with glazed eyes. If he didn’t calm down soon, he was going to hyperventilate.

  Greg looked at the other boy, who’d backed as far away from Todd as possible and appeared ready to abandon ship if things got any creepier.

  “I’m going to tow you guys back to the dock, okay?”

  The kid bobbed his head.

  Bob’s son appeared in the water on the other side of the boat. “I’ll guide it from this end.”

  Together, the two of them got the boat pointed in the right direction.

  “You’ll be back on the dock in a minute, champ. Hold on.” Although Todd didn’t respond, Greg continued to reassure him as they towed the boat through the water, staying as close to him as possible. His son was shaking so badly he could feel the vibration in the fiberglass beneath his fingers.

  Once back at the dock, the other boy leaped off the boat and scrambled to solid land as fast as he could, disappearing into the crowd that had gathered.

  Greg bit back a curse.

  The last thing he’d wanted to do was create a scene.

  Maneuvering the boat to position Todd’s side closest to the dock, he climbed out of the water with an assist from Bob, then reached back for his son.

  “Let go of the edge, Todd. I’ve got you. We’re back at the dock.”

  His son looked up at him, the glassiness fading from his eyes as he lifted his arms, a sob catching in his throat.

  Greg scooped him up and held him against his chest, stroking his back. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

  His son’s cheek pressed to his shoulder, he braced himself and turned to face the audience.

  “I’m sorry about this.” Bob laid a hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t have pushed. I didn’t realize he was scared of the water. Will he be all right?”

  “Yeah, but I think we’d better call it a day.”

  “Of course.”

  With Bob’s help, Greg worked the life vest off his clinging son. The silent crowd parted as he exited the dock, and Diane fell in beside him, her face mirroring the concern on the host’s. To her credit, however, she didn’t make a single comment or ask one question. She just walked with him to the car, her hand resting on Todd’s arm.

  The ride back to the city was equally subdued. Following his lead, she spoke little. Only when Todd fell asleep a few minutes from her house did she mention the incident, keeping her voice low.

  “What happened back there? I was too far away to see, but I heard him cry out. The next thing I knew, you were in the water.”

  “The two boats ran into each other, and Todd’s started to tip. He doesn’t know how to swim.”

  “He had a vest on, though.” Her expression was puzzled.

  Play it down, Greg. Pass it off.

  “But he hasn’t been around water very much. It was too cold for swimming in Montana. And those paddleboats sit low in the water. I think he just got scared.”

  “I suppose so.” Despite her verbal agreement, she didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe you should teach him to swim.”

  “Yeah. It’s on my agenda, but we haven’t gotten around to it yet.” In the rearview mirror, he checked on Todd. His son was passed out in the backseat, but his complexion had regained a touch of color. “Sorry to cut our day short.”

  “No problem. But you didn’t get much food.” She paused, and he knew what was coming. “I could make omelets and salad if you want to come in for a few minutes.”

  Much as he was tempted to accept, it wouldn’t be wise. Until things settled down with Todd, he needed to keep his distance. Diane wasn’t the pushy type, but she was smart. If things like the nightmare and today’s incident kept happening, she might start to ask questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. He couldn’t take that chance—even if that meant he might risk losing her.

  “Thanks, but I think I’d better get the little guy home. He’s had a tough week, between this and the flu.” He stopped the truck in her driveway and left it running as he came around to open her door.

  She slid out, fidgeting with her shoulder bag. “Do you think he’ll be well enough to go to daycare tomorrow? I’d be happy to watch him again if you want to give him another day to recover.”

  “Let me think about it, and I’ll call you later tonight.”

  For a moment she hesitated, waiting for the quick kiss that had become part of their standard parting ritual.

  But kissing was the last thing on his mind tonight.

  A flicker of disappointment echoed in her eyes before she turned away in silence and walked toward her door.

  For an instant he was tempted to call her back. To pull her close and pour out his worry. To share with someone else the burden he carried.

  A futile wish if ever there was one.

  Shoulders slumping, he closed her door, circled the pickup, and took his seat again behind the wheel. He was in this alone—and always would be. His was a secret that could never be revealed.

  But he had Todd.

  And in the end, that was all that really mattered.

  Pay dirt.

  Adrenaline surging, Connor watched through his binoculars as a blond-haired boy climbed out of a dark blue Dodge Dakota. The printout from the mall might be fuzzy, but that kid looked like a match.

  Exchanging his binoculars for the camera, he lowered his window, braced his forearm against the frame, and clicked shot after shot of both the boy and the muscular man accompanying him. A man dressed in T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap. Not red—but everything else fit.

  Once they disappeared inside, he scanned the other arrivals who’d been waiting in the parking lot for the facility to open. No other blond boys in sight. He turned his attention to the Dakota, taking zoom shots of the license plate and the vehicle itself.

  Three minutes later, the man reappeared minus the boy. Connor snapped more photos of him, though the brim of the baseball cap, pulled low over his forehead, kept his face in shadows. Nikki should be able to work some computer magic to brighten up the shots, however.

  As he watched the Dakota pull away, he raised his window. Not that the man would pay much attention to a white utility van—his transportation for the new month in the musical chairs he and his partners played with company vehicles—but it always paid to be careful.

  The temptation to follow the man was strong . . . but until Kate made a definite ID of the boy in the pictures he’d just taken, he needed to stick with the surveillance. This boy hadn’t been at daycare on Thursday or Friday, and there might be others who hadn’t been, either.

  Keeping an eye on the steady stream of arrivals, he pulled out his phone and speed dialed Nikki’s work number, bypassing her message as he punched through to her voice mail.

  “Nikki, it’s Connor. I need you to run a plate for me when you get in.” He pulled up the image on his camera and recited the numbers and letters. “I’d do it myself, but I need both eyes for surveillance. Call me as soon as you have an
ything.”

  Message left, he focused on the center, trying to ignore the growing heat and the sweat soaking through his T-shirt.

  Over the next two hours, a few other blond-haired boys showed up, and he snapped photos of the ones he wasn’t certain he’d seen during previous surveillance sessions. None, however, came as close to matching the mall image as the first boy.

  At eight-ten, his cell began to vibrate. Nikki hadn’t wasted any time.

  Pressing the phone to his ear, he continued to watch the center even though the traffic had slowed to a trickle. “Morning.”

  “Back at you. I take it you found a trail to follow.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ve got your information. The truck’s three years old and belongs to a Greg Sanders. Do you want his address?”

  “Yes.” He jotted the information down as she recited it. Somewhere in South County, based on the zip code. “What else do you have?”

  “As far as I can tell from his driver’s license data, he has a clean record. He’s forty-six, five-ten, has blue eyes, weighs one-eighty-five. That sound like the guy you saw?”

  “Close enough. Did you run his picture?”

  “Yep. Want me to email it?”

  “No. It can wait until I get to the office. Look for me about ten-thirty. When I wrap up here in forty-five minutes, I’m going to swing by his house, then head home for a shower before I come in.”

  “Thank you.”

  He grinned and picked up the bottle of water he’d opened twenty minutes ago. “You’re welcome. And thanks for looking up the info so fast.”

  “Not a problem. It gave me a short reprieve from Dev’s filing. See you soon.” The line went dead.

  After taking a long pull from the bottle of water, Connor scrolled down to Kate’s work number and pressed autodial.

  She answered on the second ring, sounding a little breathless—and anxious. “Connor? I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.”

  Do you have good news?

  Though she didn’t ask that question, it hung in the air between them—and he didn’t keep her waiting for the answer.

  “I think I may have spotted the boy you saw at the mall.”

  She drew in a sharp breath.

  “He was one of the first arrivals. I had Nikki run the plates on the truck. Does the name Greg Sanders ring any bells?”

  “No.”

  The answer he’d expected. “I’m going to do a drive-by of his house after I’m finished here. Once I get to the office, I’ll email you the photos and you can let me know what you think.”

  “All right.” A moment of silence passed. “So if this boy is the one I saw, what happens next?”

  “I think it would be valuable to have an artist do an age-progressed image of your son. See if the face she comes up with resembles the boy you saw. It’s not a foolproof method, but I’ve worked with Elaine on a number of cases and her digital magic is amazingly accurate. Much better than any age-progression software I’ve seen. If we have a decent match, that’s even more reason to continue to pursue this. Can you provide some photos from his younger years?”

  “Yes. I . . . I have hundreds.” Her quiet words were laced with pain.

  Connor gritted his teeth. Of course she did. Any loving mother would be shutter-happy with her firstborn. The heat must be addling his brain—and melting his usual finesse.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I should have phrased that more diplomatically.”

  “No apology necessary. I just hope we need them.” She sounded more normal now. Back in control. But he suspected that was an act for his benefit, to alleviate his guilt. “If the boy in the photos you send me matches the one I saw at the mall, I can run home at lunch and gather up some pictures. I have both prints and digital. The studio stuff is all prints. Would she want both?”

  “Yes. A selection from all stages of development would be best. That will help her get a feel for how he was aging. But there’s no need to make a special trip home. Take your time and look through them tonight. You can drop the JPEGs to a flash drive and put the prints in an envelope. I’ll be happy to stop by your office tomorrow morning and pick them up after I tail our friend once he drops off the little boy. Assuming we have a match, I’d like to find out where the man works.”

  “That would be fine. My first appointment isn’t until ten.”

  “I’ll be there long before that. What time do you usually get in?”

  “Seven-thirty.”

  “You put in long hours. You were there past six last Wednesday.”

  “Not all days run that late. And I’ll be leaving on time tonight if we have a match. It will take me a while to go through the photos. I haven’t pulled most of them out in years.” Her voice caught on the last word.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she wanted some company—and moral support—for the difficult task ahead, but he bit it back. It wasn’t an offer he’d make to any other client, and he needed to keep things professional and impersonal . . . for now.

  Even if he was suddenly tempted to ignore the house rules.

  “I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this. I know it won’t be easy, but I think the age-progression step could be helpful.”

  “I agree. I’ll be fine.”

  He wasn’t convinced of that, but he let it go. “Expect me around eight tomorrow, assuming our guy doesn’t work somewhere in the far reaches of the county. If he does, I’ll call and let you know I’ll be delayed. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I think the boy I saw this morning is a match, but you may not agree. Call me once you review the images and we’ll go from there.”

  “Sounds good. Talk to you soon.”

  As Kate ended the call, Connor picked up his water again, watching the daycare center as he drained the bottle. Despite the lack of activity, he’d stick it out until nine—just in case. But he was pretty certain the boy he’d spotted in the early hours of the morning was the one they’d been trying to locate. All he needed was Kate’s confirmation.

  On the plus side, a positive ID by his client meant no more hot mornings under the Golden Arches.

  But it also meant this investigation would move to a whole new level. One with a lot of potential risks.

  Because if the boy did, in fact, match the age-progression image Elaine produced, and if Kate’s suspicion that he might be her son became more than groundless speculation, someone had a dangerous secret to protect. Most likely the guy in the baseball cap. And if he discovered he’d been identified, things could turn nasty very fast. Anyone who threatened to expose him could be in peril.

  Especially Kate.

  9

  Ring! Please ring!

  Diane glanced at the phone an arm’s reach away on the kitchen counter as she finished rinsing her dinner plate, but despite some powerful wishing and strong telepathic signals directed toward Greg’s house, it remained silent.

  Face it, Diane. He isn’t going to call.

  Sighing, she set the dish in the drying rack. So what if they’d spoken every day in the past month? It wasn’t like he’d promised to call today when he’d phoned last night after getting Todd settled. But his tone, while friendly, had lost the touch of intimacy, of promise, she’d come to expect.

  Things were changing between them—and she had no idea why.

  She pulled the towel off the rack beneath the sink and dried her hands, eyeing the phone again. She could always call to ask how Todd was doing. That would be a considerate gesture, given the youngster’s traumatic experience yesterday.

  Or would referring to the disturbing incident make Greg pull back from her even more?

  Wandering over to the phone, she chewed on her lower lip. Maybe things were calmer today. Maybe he’d be glad to hear from her. Besides, what was wrong with letting him know she was thinking about him, that she cared about both of them? At this point, with him pulling back anyway, what did she have to lose?

  Before she could change her mind, she picked
up the phone and pressed his speed dial number.

  Todd answered less than a heartbeat into the first ring, sounding like his usual cheery self. At least things seemed to be back to normal in his world. Dare she hope the same was true for Greg?

  “Hi, honey. It’s Diane. Are you guys eating dinner?”

  “Nope. We just finished. We had chocolate cake for dessert.”

  “Wow. That’s my favorite.”

  “Me too. We have a whole lot left. Do you want to come over and . . .”

  He stopped speaking, and she could hear a muted exchange in the background. Then Todd returned.

  “Dad wants to talk to you. See you later.”

  As the phone on the other end exchanged hands, her palms started to sweat. The timing of Greg’s interception wasn’t random. He hadn’t wanted Todd to ask her to come over. In fact, she had a feeling if Todd hadn’t answered the phone so fast, Greg would have let it roll to the answering machine.

  “Hi, Diane.” Greg’s voice was cordial, nothing more.

  Calling had been a mistake. He didn’t want to talk with her.

  Her lungs balked.

  “Hi. I, uh, just wanted to see how Todd was doing.” She did her best to mask her usual warmth and match his polite tone. “He sounds much better today.”

  “Yeah. He had a good day at STL and ate a big dinner.”

  “Great. How’s everything with you?”

  “Fine.”

  As the stilted exchange ended, she leaned her shoulder against the wall and closed her eyes. It was her turn to speak—and hard as it was, she forced herself to do what she had to do.

  “Well, I have a few chores to take care of tonight. You two have a nice evening.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  No inquiry about her day. No promise of a future call. No more reassurances that things would get back to normal soon.

  Despite the tightness in her throat, she managed to inject her “talk to you later” sign-off with a lot more brightness than she felt.

  But once she dropped the phone back into the cradle, the tightness turned into a sob.

  What in the world was going on? One day she and Greg had been a cozy couple, then overnight he’d pulled back. It didn’t make sense.