She left the kitchen and Lucy cleared the plates. “I’ll take care of these tomorrow,” Sean said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lucy sat back down. “Siobhan doesn’t believe it—but Noah and I agree. Multiple women, multiple infants, multiple pregnancies. Marisol and Ana disappeared a little over two years ago, and one of them gave birth to Elizabeth, but left her wrapped in a shirt at a church. The other pregnant women, the other house in Laredo that was shut down at the same time as the house outside Freer opened, I think one of two things is happening. What if these are all girls in the sex trade who get pregnant and instead of forcing the girls to terminate the pregnancy, they force them to deliver and then sell the babies?”
Sean tensed. “Lucy—”
“Or,” she continued, “this is the plan all along. Not sex trafficking. Maybe when these girls find themselves pregnant, they are convinced to give up their babies. Taken from their friends and family, leave voluntarily, I don’t know. Maybe they think it’s a legitimate adoption. But so many are embarrassed, or unmarried, or illegal immigrants, or young and they don’t know who to turn to. They’re being used. Manipulated. The mother in the hospital three months ago—she could have told the doctor everything, she would have been given help. The ob-gyn is someone Siobhan vouches for, she seems to have a good head on her shoulders and has been very agreeable to all of Noah’s suggestions. Security, keeping Baby Elizabeth longer and under protection.”
“What happened to the woman three months ago?”
“According to the report, she was put in a shelter for unwed mothers, but left two days later, with the baby. Just vanished.”
Lucy looked down at her hands. She was tense and shaking.
Sean pulled back her hair, made her look at him. “Honey, what is it?”
“I can’t stop thinking about Elizabeth—that’s what Father Sebastian named her. Innocent. Pure. Left at a church by a desperate mother … where did she go? Why didn’t she ask Father Sebastian for help? She trusted him enough with her baby, why not with her own safety? What if these babies are being sold? What if they’re being sold to … to…” A sob escaped Lucy’s throat.
“Don’t go there,” Sean said, harsher than he wanted. “You can’t go there.”
“I can’t help it.” Her voice was small. “I want to believe that rich people who can’t adopt legally are buying these babies and will love and take care of them. That maybe they’re not bad people. But you and I both know that there are sick people in this world, and who is going to protect these babies? If we can’t find the others … I don’t know. I see everything that can happen and it makes me feel so damn helpless!”
Sean gathered Lucy up in his arms. “Don’t. You’re going to do your job and do it well, better than anyone else. Noah’s on this, and you trust him—he’s a good cop. Between the two of you, you’ll find these people and stop them.”
“And what about the babies? Are we going to find them?”
Sean couldn’t answer that; if he said yes, Lucy would know he was placating her. If he said no, he’d destroy her hope. “Have faith, Lucy.”
She seemed unusually fragile. Sean turned off the lights and wrapped his arm around Lucy’s shoulder. He walked her upstairs. Put her to bed. She was asleep in minutes, snuggled against his chest. Safe.
He was almost asleep when he realized he hadn’t told her about Jesse.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Siobhan woke up at four that morning after nearly five solid hours of sleep. She didn’t want to get up—the bed was the most comfortable she’d ever slept in, with smooth sheets and a thick down comforter. She sighed, stretched, then relaxed and checked her phone for messages. One from her editor she’d been ignoring for days. He wanted to know what she was working on. She wasn’t—she hadn’t been doing much of anything since she got the call from Father Sebastian about the locket. She’d planned to visit a Habitat for Humanity site in El Paso—they were building a series of town houses that would eventually house twelve families. Each of the families was required to help, and Siobhan wanted to explore their stories in a photo journal of the entire project.