Unbreakable Bond & The Missing Twin. Rita Herron

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СКАЧАТЬ grabbed her robe, tied it around her waist and tiptoed to the den, shivering as the air conditioner kicked on. Darkness bathed the room, but a streak of lightning flashed in a jagged line and she froze, her heart pounding.

      Had she seen someone on her porch? The silhouette of a shadow?

      Fear surged through her, and she reached for the phone.

      But the times when she’d called the sheriff flashed back. The way he’d dismissed her fears and ordered her to get some help, then claimed she was inventing shadows in the night.

      His calls to her father…the never-ending cycle of his disdainful looks…

      She dropped the phone in its cradle, grabbed the umbrella from the stand by the door then slipped the edge of the curtain sheer aside and searched the darkness.

      Rain pounded the roof and porch, running in rivulets down the sides of the awning, and down the street a car’s lights floated through the fog, disappearing into the blur.

      The streetlight in the cul-de-sac on the other end of the street illuminated wet pavement and another house but its lights were off.

      Holding her breath, she listened for signs of someone outside, but the storm raged on, the sound of a cat screeching echoing above the rain. Her heart squeezed, and she slowly unlocked the door.

      Keeping the umbrella poised in case someone had been on the porch, she pulled the door ajar and the dripping cat darted down the steps.

      Then her eyes widened and a sob gurgled in her throat.

       God, no…

      A small rag doll lay on the porch in front of the door, a knife sticking through its heart.

      A doll just like the one she’d found right before she’d had her breakdown, a doll her father and the psychiatrist had insisted she’d put there as some sort of manifestation of her grief and guilt.

      * * *

      SLADE RARELY SLEPT and this night was no different. When he did, the nightmares came.

      He’d choose fatigue over the memories haunting him any day.

      Antsy to get started, he brewed a pot of coffee and was at the phone by six.

      The reporter, a guy named Hewey Darby, had quoted a Detective Swarnson from the neighboring county as the lead detective on the Dumpster case, so he punched in his number, anxious to hear what the man had to say.

      When the receptionist for the police department answered, he asked to speak to Swarnson. “I’m sorry, sir, but Detective Swarnson is no longer with us.”

      “Where can I get in touch with him?”

      A moment of hesitation. “I’m afraid you can’t. He was killed last year in a random shooting. What is this about?”

      He explained that he wanted information on the Dumpster-baby case. “Oh, then you can speak with his partner, Detective Little. I’ll connect you to her office.”

      “Thank you.”

      A minute later, a woman’s voice echoed back. “Detective Little.”

      “This is Slade Blackburn, Guardian Angel Investigations. I’m investigating the case of an infant who went missing eight years ago in Sanctuary, the same night as the deadly fire and explosion that caused numerous deaths.”

      “Right. I read about the arrests.”

      “One of the patients in the hospital at the time was told that her baby died, but her body was never recovered, so I’m investigating the possibility that the child might have been kidnapped.”

      “I’m not sure how I can help.”

      “Actually, I’m not sure you can either, but I’m exploring every possible lead. I found records of a case you and your partner investigated where an infant was found in a Dumpster approximately two weeks after the child in question went missing.”

      “Oh, right, I remember that case.”

      “What can you tell me about it? Did you ID the child?”

      “As a matter of fact, we did.” Her voice warbled. “The mother was a crack addict. She delivered early, but the child wasn’t breathing so she freaked out and decided to get rid of it for fear she’d be caught.”

      “Did you arrest her?”

      “She’s in prison now.” A long sigh. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s not much help.”

      “No, it means that the child I’m looking for might be alive.”

      “If it’s been eight years…” Detective Little said. “You know the chances are slim that you’ll find her.”

      Slade gritted his teeth. “I know. But everyone assumed she died in that fire. The fact that there was no body or proof means there might have been foul play.”

      “Good luck, Mr. Blackburn. I have a soft spot for kids myself, that’s why I work Special Victims. If I can help you any other way, just let me know.”

      He thanked her, then spent the next hour chasing down the other two instances he’d read about, but both turned out to be dead ends, too.

      The rain died, the morning sun fighting through the storm clouds. His phone buzzed, and he checked the number. Nina.

      He punched the connect button. “Nina?”

      “Slade…can you come over?”

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Someone left a rag doll with a knife in its heart on my doorstep.”

      Slade cursed, grabbed his weapon, shoved it in his holster, threw on a jacket and rushed outside.

      * * *

      NINA’S HAND TREMBLED as she hung up the phone. Nausea rolled through her as she stared at the doll, and her chest ached so badly it was as if that knife had been plunged into her own heart.

      Someone had put the doll on her doorstep to taunt her with the past.

      Who would be so cruel?

      She rushed upstairs and threw on some clothes, then made coffee and tried to sip it while she waited.

      Five minutes later, Slade’s SUV rumbled up the drive and she inhaled deeply. She had to pull herself together. She finally had someone on her side, and she couldn’t chance losing his services now.

      Brushing her hair back into a ponytail, she rushed to the door. The sight of Slade Blackburn on her front porch sent a surge of relief through her.

      The wind tousled his hair around his broad face, and the trees shook raindrops from the branches, scattering them across the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked.

      She nodded. “Yes, just shaken.”

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