“But the teddy bears!” I blurted.
Sean shook his head. “That’s not enough.”
I ripped off a piece of crust and absently nibbled at its crisp brown edge. “It may not be enough to be conclusive, but I feel it in here.” I pointed to my chest. “Melissa and Tilly were murdered by the same person. I know it. We just need to dig deeper to find the reason.”
Sean opened the salad container. “Many cases are solved because gut instincts lead us to a discovery of the facts, Lila, and your instincts are better than most. I, too, have a feeling there’s a connection between these women, but we need evidence to solve cases, not just hunches.”
I sat on the edge of my chair and considered the possibilities. “The other day, Tilly vaguely alluded to being a different person once. What if, in her past, she knew the murderer? And what if Melissa had some kind of connection with him, too? Maybe, years ago, the three of them were linked somehow.”
His lunch all but forgotten, Sean got up and brought the file box to the table. With a fresh burst of energy, he lifted the lid. “When Melissa lived in Dunston twenty years ago, she worked with the Department of Social Services. The person I interviewed at the agency didn’t work there when Melissa did, so she couldn’t tell me much. I do have an appointment to see one of Melissa’s former coworkers this afternoon, though. In the meantime, I got these old case files, which I’ve been reviewing to see if I might find something.” He indicated the box full of manila folders. “It appears that Melissa had lots of high-risk kids in her caseload.” He lifted out a pile of folders. “I still have to go through this bunch.”
“I can help,” I offered as I reached for part of the pile. Sean clasped my wrist.
“This is confidential information, Lila. You can’t see these files.”
I pulled back my hand and sighed. “I understand, but with my help, you could get through twice as many. I wouldn’t breathe a word about what I see. To anybody.”
Our eyes held each other’s briefly, and then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He handed me his pen and notepad. “But you could write down the similarities I discover as I read them. That would be helpful.”
“Okay,” I replied as I opened to a blank page and clicked the pen.
He leafed through the folders and intermittently read aloud tidbits of information that seemed random and unconnected to the case. I dutifully recorded them, not discerning any kind of pattern. The details he revealed were vague, yet it struck me that many of the children were victims of unfortunate or violent circumstances, requiring removal from their homes and being taken from their mothers.
I wondered how these kids, who would all be adults now, had turned out. Had their placement in foster care or adoptive homes allowed them to grow into responsible adults with fulfilling lives? I doubted that was the case for all of them, and it was entirely possible the murderer was one of these unfortunate souls who had suffered within the system and blamed Melissa for his misery. But then, how did Tilly fit into that picture?
“Something happened between Ms. Plume and the killer that caused him to snap,” Sean said, drawing me out of my musings. “Hitting a woman with a brick in a semipublic place is indicative of a rash act, one that was likely triggered by emotion. This feels more like a crime of passion than a premeditated act of violence.”
I nodded. “And the reason for his rage might be in one of those,” I said, pointing to the few remaining folders.
Sean nodded as he put a folder aside and flipped open the next, silently reading its contents. Suddenly his eyes widened in amazement. “Oh my god, Lila, this could be something!”
I caught my breath. “What?”
“Melissa was seeking a permanent home for this young boy named Justyn. Apparently, he’d already been passed around a few different foster homes because of behavioral problems. But here’s what caught my eye.” He shifted in his seat. I leaned forward as he began to read:
Justyn had been abandoned as a newborn, left in a plastic laundry basket on the steps of a church with only a note indicating his name. He was wrapped in a sweatshirt, and tucked beside him was a small teddy bear.
Sean looked up from the page, his cheeks flushed. “A teddy bear, Lila.”
My pulse began to race. “That’s too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?” We were getting close; I knew it.