When Shadows Fall (Dr. Samantha Owens #3)

“I’m not hip on all the lingo here, Baldwin,” Xander said. “What do you mean, specific ideation?”


“I mean this particular pedophile likes prepubescent girls between six and twelve years old. Once the child ages and loses the physical characteristics he likes—in other words, enters puberty, which begins changing the body into the more adult female form—she is no longer attractive to the suspect, and he discards her in favor of a child who fits into his specific ideal. With the rate of frequency of these kidnappings, I believe the girls are being replaced, but we haven’t found another body since Kaylie. And with her sudden resurrection, I could be wrong. All of them may very well be alive.”

“What are the odds?” Xander asked.

“Bleak. But yesterday, they were nil.”

“Do you have any idea whose body you found, the child you thought was Kaylie Rousch?” Sam asked.

“We honestly don’t know. We’re going to have the body exhumed, but that can’t happen until next week. We have to get a court order, and the parents’ permission, even though it seems that impediment might be gone now.”

“Do you think this cult is behind the kidnappings of these other five girls? That Doug Matcliff ran away with them after the mass suicide? And have you found any other bodies?” Xander asked.

“NRM. No more bodies, no. And as of this morning, when I found out about Kaylie Rousch, I have to change everything I think about these cases.”

“You’re dodging us, Baldwin. Why? You can trust me, you know.” Sam gave him a smile, which he returned.

“You’re right. I can. That’s why we’re still having this conversation. Here’s the profile I’ve been working with all these years. The kidnapper was a man acting alone, in his midtwenties to thirties, very smart, very capable, with a steady white-collar job. He’s low ranking, not management, but gets good reviews from his bosses, who wonder why, with his smarts, he doesn’t try for promotions. He’s probably turned down opportunities to move up the ladder if it would mean a physical move. He’s not married, has a private place to keep his victims, a basement or the like. He’s a loner, one of those men who disappear into the framework of society. He doesn’t make waves, doesn’t draw attention to himself, but he doesn’t set off people’s alarm bells, either. The notes indicate he was discarding the girls, even though we haven’t found any more bodies. Profiling is an inexact science. I might have that part wrong.”

“Does Doug Matcliff fit this profile?”

“Yes and no.”

Sam shook her head. “So if you’ve been wrong all this time, and this guy isn’t a corporate white shirt, but a part of the NRM, and if they were involved, you’re saying a whole group of people kept quiet all these years about kidnapped little girls? That seems pretty far-fetched.”

“Not as far-fetched as you might think. The power of these cult leaders defies logic. Look at Jim Jones, and David Koresh. They used mind control and drugs to keep their followers in line. Jones was a con man, through and through. Koresh had a massive God complex, decided he was going to be the chosen one and everyone would do everything he said, at any time. They were both sexual sadists, too, which goes along with this.”

“But a female version?” Sam asked.

Baldwin ran his hands through his hair. He looked tired, so tired, and Sam felt bad for pushing him. His job was heavy on the horrible and light on the happy, and she knew he did his absolute best with everything he touched.

When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Sam, you of all people know there isn’t anything in the world that surprises me. If it is them, then it seems someone in Eden wanted a very specific type of little girl, and whoever took Kaylie and the other girls fits that profile.”

Sam shook her head. “Nothing about this scenario is typical though, is it? I know you said historically there was a series of garrotings surrounding each kidnapping. Where do those murders fit into this?”

“I don’t know. They may be totally unrelated. Stranger things have happened.”

“You don’t believe that,” Sam said.

He sighed. “No, I don’t. But other people do, and I’ve had a hard time convincing them otherwise. You know hindsight is twenty-twenty. We can see the pattern more clearly now than before.”