“What’s his story?” Siobhan asked Lucy, keeping her eyes on the computer.
Siobhan seemed genuinely interested, though it was clear to Lucy she’d been frustrated with Noah. Lucy appreciated that Siobhan said what she thought and didn’t play games. Her methods were straightforward. She wanted answers because she cared—not just about Marisol and Ana, but about the girl who had been chained to the bed.
“Noah is one of the best agents I’ve ever worked with,” Lucy said. “We knew each other in DC before I went to the academy.”
“And he’s in the San Antonio office now?”
“Temporarily. Long story.”
“Something to do with what happened in June?”
“In part.”
“He just seems very … suspicious. Very cop-like.”
Lucy almost laughed. “He can be serious. He’s methodical and organized. He’s a good person to have watching your back because he doesn’t get flustered. He’s a by-the-book agent, but can be flexible. He was my mentor when I was in DC.”
“By-the-book? I’ll bet he and Sean butt heads.”
“They did. They’re fine now.” At least, they were friendly. Friendlier. They’d never be best buddies, but Lucy appreciated that they both made an effort.
“Good. That would be pretty uncomfortable if your partner and husband didn’t like each other.”
“Husband,” Lucy muttered.
Siobhan laughed. “Get used to it.”
“I am. It just sounds … strange.” Lucy had never believed she’d get to this point. That she’d fall in love, live with a man, get married. It was overwhelming and exciting at the same time.
Siobhan clicked a few keys then tilted the computer screen so Lucy had a better view. “These are the best shots of each person.”
Lucy leaned over the desk and studied the photos with Siobhan.
“I don’t have a photo of Pedro, the teenager who called the cops on me. The deputy, by the way, called him Pete. But there are four other men, the woman, the young girl carrying the baby. I don’t have a great shot of the woman upstairs, but I can work on it.”
“That’s her baby.” Lucy pointed to the blond girl carrying the infant.
“How can you tell?”
“Well, she’s wearing a maternity blouse for one thing—see those straps? They unbutton for nursing. Then look at her arm—she recently had an IV.”
Siobhan enlarged the photo. “You have a good eye. I hadn’t noticed that. I was focused on their faces.”
“She’s so young,” Lucy said quietly. Eighteen, nineteen maybe. Not much older.
“Maybe someone is looking for her,” Siobhan said. “I have to believe that. I can’t believe that all these girls are unwanted. Unremembered.”
Lucy didn’t recognize any of the other people, but the older, well-dressed woman was put-together—the whole package. Jewelry, makeup, clothing, shoes. She was clearly in charge. The way the men stood around her, they deferred to her. The man who came with her, the one in the suit, was her bodyguard—Lucy could tell by the way he looked around, the way he stood next to her. Observant. Protective.
“Send those files to me and Noah,” Lucy said. “He’ll get them to the right people.”
“Get what?” Noah said, stepping back in.
“The pictures.”
He nodded. “I’ll have Zach run them.”
“Send the girl to NCMEC,” Lucy said. “She’s young, possibly underage. She might be a runaway or a kidnapping victim.”
“Do you still have contacts there?” Noah asked.
“Yes.”
“You do it, then—your personal connection will get our request to the top of the list.”
Lucy started composing a message to her friend at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.
*
Lucy stared at Baby Elizabeth through the window of the nursery.
She was beautiful.
“My life is too unpredictable to have a baby,” Siobhan said quietly. “But I would adopt a child in a heartbeat. There are so many young children who need homes. Babies are in high demand, so they get adopted much easier. It’s the older kids, the ones that parents think are too much trouble, or they can’t mold, or they have problems because they lost their entire family.”
Lucy turned from the infant to Siobhan, surprised at the sudden kinship she felt with her. “I feel the same way.”