False Positive (26 page)

Tuesday. Afternoon
.

Nicole missing for two hours

Devereaux had been shown dozens of photographs by the parents of missing kids over the years.

First it had been paper prints. Loose, or in frames, or mounted on the wall. Later, digital images took over. On camera screens and computers and phones and tablets. But whatever the format, the pain he'd seen etched into the parents' faces was the same. And on every occasion he'd tried to imagine how it must feel to be left with just a picture where once you had your own flesh and blood.

When Cunningham passed him the iPad she'd retrieved from her desk, he knew what those other parents had experienced. He scrolled through the images, from babe in arms to precocious, curly-haired toddler to vivacious blue-eyed little girl, and he'd never felt such agony or emptiness or loss. The primeval urge to defend his child swept over him, and if he'd known where Loflin's mother was at that instant there was no force on earth strong enough to stop him from going after her.

“I'm so sorry, Nicole.” Devereaux touched the most recent picture with his finger. The girl had Alexandra's eyes, but maybe his nose? Then for a horrible moment Devereaux wondered what else the child might have inherited from him. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.”

“Don't, Cooper.” Cunningham gently took the iPad from him. “How could you have protected her? You didn't know about her. And even if you had, what difference would it have made? You can't wrap kids in cotton wool. You can't watch them twenty-four-seven.”

“Maybe not. But you don't have to leave them in swimming pool bathrooms on their own at any time. Where were you? Why weren't you with her?”

“I was right there, in the cafe. She knew I was waiting for her. We did the same thing every week. She was supposed to get changed and come meet me. But she never showed up. I asked around but no one had seen her, so I called 911, and the police said something about a woman who might have done this kind of thing before? Cooper, I'm just so scared—”

“You were in the cafe? Why didn't you go to the locker room with her? Help her change?”

“She can get changed on her own, Cooper. She's seven years old, not seven months. And besides, I had work to do. It's not easy keeping everything running on my own.”

“Being on your own is your choice, Alex. You could have stayed—”

“Oh no. We're not going there. I'm perfectly capable of standing on my own two feet. I'm supporting my daughter just fine.”

“Our daughter.” Devereaux dropped his voice a couple of decibels.

“OK.” Cunningham breathed a long sigh. “Our daughter. That'll take a little getting used to.”

“For you and me both. And I didn't mean you're not capable. Hell, you always earned four times what I did. It's just—if I'd known about Nicole, I wouldn't have let the woman go. I'd have stopped her before she got to the pool.”

“Stopped which woman? What are you talking about?”

“It doesn't matter. This is so messed up.”

“Wait.” Cunningham turned and grabbed Devereaux's sleeve. “You know something about the woman who took Nicole? What aren't you telling me?”

“We're going to stop her. We're going to get Nicole back. I swear.”

“But who is this woman? Why's she doing this?”

“She's a psychologist. A civilian who works for the FBI. She abducted
another kid in Birmingham on Friday night. I caught the case. And I got the kid back, safe and sound. But in the process, the woman was injured. So was another detective. My partner. The way things panned out, I had to make a choice: Stop the woman right away, or make sure the boy and my partner were OK. I didn't know about Nicole at that point, so I focused on the others. I figured we'd have time to scoop the woman up before she did any more harm.”

“So this was revenge? For the kid you saved? How did she even know about Nicole?”

Devereaux was silent for a moment. He didn't want the woman's entire thought process to come to light at this point. Cunningham had already decided he was unfit to be around her kid because of his job. Her learning that his father had been a serial killer was unlikely to help his cause.

“I'm right, aren't I?” Cunningham got to her feet. “This is your fault. You put our daughter in danger. You brought this witch to our door. You—”

“Ms. Cunningham, please.” Lieutenant Hale had reappeared in the doorway. “Detective Devereaux certainly isn't to blame for this woman's criminal activities. He's done more than anyone to bring her to justice. What we need to focus on is what we do together, going forward, to bring Nicole home safe.”

“You're right.” Cunningham sat back down, but she left a wider gap between herself and Devereaux than there'd been before. “I overreacted. I apologize. But what can we do? Waiting around to hear something is killing me. How long until this bitch will get in touch with her demands?”

Neither Devereaux nor Hale replied.

“What?” Cunningham looked confused. “Isn't that what kidnappers do?”

“Based on how she behaved in the previous case, I don't think she will get in touch.” Hale took a step closer. “We won't be able to talk to her. But we can talk to the next best thing.”

“Her daughter.” Devereaux got to his feet. “She's in the hospital. Let's go.”

Devereaux paused when they reached the front door and turned back to Cunningham.

“Alex, what's Nicole's favorite toy?”

“This is no time to play Disneyland Dad, Cooper.” Cunningham scowled.

“I'm not. This is serious. I need to know.”

“Why?”

“I'll tell you when Nicole's home and safe.”

“OK. It's an easy one. Barbie. She's totally obsessed. You should see her room.”

Of all the places the girl could have asked to go for her treat, she chose a water park.

The woman was appalled. It was going to be worse than Disneyland. And harder to deal with disguises, too. She'd have to get multiple swimsuits for them to change into. And swim hats, in place of wigs. If only she'd had more time to prepare. Or to convince the kid to reconsider. But it had been hard enough to persuade her to come up with an idea in the first place.

Getting the kid into the Mercedes was straightforward enough—the woman had surprise on her side—but once they were under way, the kid turned into a ferocious dervish. It was like she was possessed, writhing and twisting and screaming and trying to kick and bite. It took every trick in the book to calm her down—which was quite a feat, while driving—and after that all suggestions for alternative trips were met with a return of the histrionics.

An hour later, and the chance to negotiate was gone. The woman had been forced to use the last of her triazolam to keep the kid quiet while she figured out a route and called ahead to book them a hotel. A treat—even a ghastly one—deserved to last at least a full day.

The woman would never have thought it, but she was glad this was going to be her last outing.

The challenge would be getting her daughter back in the fold before it was time for the next one.

Tuesday. Late Afternoon
.

Nicole missing for two and three-quarter hours

Loflin was propped up in bed in a room just like Segard's when Hale and Devereaux reached the hospital. She was sore from the surgery and sluggish from the anesthetic, but the bullet itself had caused no lasting damage.

“Cooper. Lieutenant.” Loflin smiled when she saw the pair approach, but then a worried frown spread across her face. “Your daughter? Did you save her? Is she OK?”

“No.” Devereaux shook his head. “Your mom beat me to her.”

“Shit.” Loflin pushed herself up from her pillow and tried to swing her legs out of the bed. “That's what I was afraid of.”

“Jan, lie back down. It's not your fault. You're not your mother. But we do need your help. We have to understand what happens when your mom thinks she's saving a kid. I need you to explain real clearly, step by step.”

“You saw what she does.” Loflin flopped back and pulled the baggy hospital pajamas tighter around her tiny frame. “When we were at the house. In the bedrooms. Who can understand that? My mother's bat-shit crazy. That's all there is to it.”

“I know, Jan.” Devereaux moved closer. “But will she risk going back to the house, knowing that we'll be watching the place? Will she
hide? Will she run? Or will she panic, knowing we're looking for her? See what I mean? I need to know how she thinks.”

“Well, she must have another house, right?” Loflin shifted her position slightly. “Or somewhere like it. Not all the missing kids were at the one we found.”

“Where would it be?” Devereaux felt a surge of dread inside him.

“I have no idea. She never mentioned it. She didn't even tell me about the one we were at until a couple of days ago.”

“Think, Jan. Please. I need to know where she's taking my daughter. I don't have much time.”

“You've got a couple of days, I guess, depending on what she picks.”

“On what who picks? Picks for what?”

“For her treat. The first thing Mom always does, she told me, is take the kid on a treat.”

“She does? That's great! We can pick Nicole up there. Where does your mom take them?”

“There's not one set place.” Loflin clutched her side and grimaced. “It depends on the kid. She lets each one pick. It could be Disney. A museum. The Grand Canyon. Anywhere. As long as it's within the United States. She wouldn't try to go overseas. Not even Hawaii.”

“Wait a minute.” Hale closed in from the other side of the bed. “Your mother abducts these kids, then takes them on vacation? You sure you're not selling us a line here, Jan? Buying your mom some time?”

“No.” Loflin's voice was drying out. “You've got to understand. She truly believes she's saving the kids. She wants to do something nice for them, before…you know. It's actually very thoughtful, in a completely twisted way. And it gives her the opportunity for something else. The test.”

“What test?” Devereaux glanced nervously at Hale.

“She's convinced what she's doing is necessary, because the kids have inherited defective genes. Genes that make them dangerous.” Loflin reached over to the nightstand and took a sip of water. “But before she does anything, she tests them using some special procedure she developed. Just in case they're not tainted.”

Devereaux's stomach turned over at the thought of his daughter being
tested
by this woman.

“You sound sold on all this.” Hale was having a hard time concealing her frustration.

“I heard my mom raving about genetics for years. I know her theories by heart. It doesn't mean I believe them.”

“But this is good news, right?” Devereaux knew he was clutching at straws. “My daughter could pass the test? She might not be in danger after all?”

“I wouldn't count on it.” Loflin sank back against her pillows. “You saw how the test worked out for those other kids.”

“Your mother does know she's a total hypocrite?” Devereaux glared down at his partner. “Has
she
passed her test? Have you? Is she planning a murder/suicide pact when she's done with my daughter?”

“Certainly not suicide, although she is sick.” Loflin paused, her strength fading. “Don't you see? In her mind, what she's doing proves she
has
escaped her genes. Because she's saving people. She thought I'd escaped, too, but now she's sure to have doubts because I helped you and Ethan.”

“Wait.” Hale had recovered some of her composure. “Back up, Jan. You said your mom lets the kids choose where they go? Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely.” Loflin nodded weakly. “She always lets them pick their favorite place.”

“OK. Cooper, can I speak with you for a moment? Outside?”

Hale ushered Devereaux into the corridor and waited for the heavy glass door to slide shut behind them.

“Listen. This is our break. All we have to do is contact Alexandra and find out what Nicole would choose to do. That'll tell us exactly where Loflin's mother is going to be. Cooper—this will turn out OK. Ethan's safely back with Mary Lynne and Joseph. Soon, your daughter will be with you. I can feel it.”

The woman was beginning to think the problem wasn't only with the preparation.

She'd have been more comfortable with extra time to research the water park, for example. What exactly was an Acapulco Drop? Or a Neptune's Plunge? And how assiduously would she need to avoid being swept into them?

It would have been less suspicious if she'd had time to spread the purchase of extravagant quantities of swimsuits and hats across a wider variety of outlets—physical and online—rather than relying on what could be found at Target or Meijer in a couple of hours the next morning.

A greater supply of sedative would certainly have been advantageous.

But the real issue lay with the child herself. She wasn't like the others. Controlling her was beyond a challenge. Because there was a flaw in the woman's concept.

This child wasn't an orphan.

Posing as her real mom, returned to reclaim her and bring her home—it simply didn't hold water.

Wednesday. Early Morning
.

Nicole missing for sixteen and a half hours

The house is silent. She doesn't answer when I call. But she must be here, somewhere.

I open the closet door. In the hallway. Check behind the coats hanging on the rail. I find no one. But there's a pair of boots on the floor. They're tall. Industrial-looking. One falls over. It makes a strange sound when it hits the floor. A hollow sound. There must be a space underneath. A space where a kid could hide…

I push the boots aside and run my fingers around the edges of the board. Find a place to grip, hidden in the shadows. Start to pull. The board moves easily. Light spills through the gap. Spiders and bugs scatter in all directions. And I see the girl
.

She tries to wriggle away, farther into the space. But she's trapped. She can't get away. I remove the second board. Reach down. Grab her shirt. Lift her out. Hug her to my chest. Carry her to the kitchen
.

I set her down on a chair. Start to bend down, so my face will be at the same level. Then I catch sight of my reflection in the window. I'm short, now. My hair is blond. It reaches my shoulders
.

There's something wrong with my ear…

Devereaux made sure not to look in the mirror when he used the small, harshly lit bathroom in his hotel room, the next morning. He didn't have long until the joint FBI/police briefing, and he didn't want to reawaken the memory of his dream. He already felt tired and off his game. He'd been late to bed after helping to call all the hotels within a fifty-mile radius of the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville, which Alexandra Cunningham had unhesitatingly named as the place Nicole most wanted to visit.

They'd been searching for a record of Loflin's mother. They had to check registrations under her real name. All of her former names. Plus the alias she'd used at the Roadside Rendezvous motel near the Casey Jones Railroad Museum. Their efforts had all been in vain. And then he'd hardly slept, haunted by the hideous vision of his own face morphing into hers.

The FBI had used the hours of darkness to set up a mobile command post in the Space Center's parking lot. It consisted of two huge trucks, set up to look like TV outside-broadcast vehicles to disguise their purpose and account for the array of satellite dishes and other communications equipment that covered their roofs. They were hiding in plain sight, right by the entrance to the Davidson visitor center, and in the shadow of the center's giant Saturn V rocket.

One whole end wall inside the nearer truck was filled with computer monitors, showing images piped in from the park's security cameras. Larry McMahan—the agent in charge of the Birmingham field office—was standing and watching them when Devereaux arrived at eight-thirty, half an hour before the center was due to open to the public. Bruckner and Grandison were already in place around a folding metal conference table and a minute later Lieutenant Hale entered the truck and joined them.

McMahan turned away from the screens, eager to get down to business. Now that Loflin's mother was linked to the Bureau, he was anxious to take care of the dirty laundry quickly, before it got aired in public. He'd pulled plenty of strings, and brought a lot of resources into play in a short length of time. The fact that the woman had shot a cop—and taken another cop's kid hostage—had only strengthened his hand.

“Danielle, good to see you.” McMahan nodded to Hale and took
his place at the head of the table. “Gentlemen. This briefing shouldn't take long. Everything is in place, exactly as agreed last night. We have agents at all entrances to the center. In the security control room. At each of the key attractions, with double teams at the Rocket Park and the Shuttle Park. There are four pairs roving within the grounds. We have people at the ice-cream concession. The cafe. The souvenir store. We have two agents monitoring the entrance to the parking lot, and two more checking any cars that arrived early, posing as annual-subscription sellers.”

McMahan's briefing continued for another five minutes, with the in-depth information about the wider investigation provided by Lieutenant Hale. The longer it continued, the more Devereaux felt an intangible sense of competence and determination fill the room. He was still on edge—and knew he would be until Nicole was in his arms, safe and well—but he was satisfied with the Bureau's response, even if it was somewhat driven by self-interest. By the time McMahan took the floor again to wrap things up, Devereaux only had one question.

“What's my role in all this? Where do you want me to be?”

McMahan gestured to the bank of monitors behind him.

“Watching these. The subject is known to be adept with disguise, and you're the only one here who's actually seen her recently. You're best placed to spot her, if she's attempting to alter her appearance. Conversely, she knows what you look like. We can't risk putting you in the open because if she sees you, we lose the element of surprise.”

Devereaux was disappointed—he desperately wanted to be outside, hunting the woman down, saving his daughter—but he knew McMahan was right. He wished the others luck, then took one of the hard plastic chairs and positioned himself in front of the screens.

After his dream, Devereaux had been anxious to avoid the woman's image. Now he was desperate for her face to appear. The screens remained static, as if frozen in time, for the next eight minutes. Then a flood of people washed through the gates and spread out between the attractions. Men. Women. Young and old. Single and in couples or larger groups. With and without children. Some marching purposefully, with a definite destination in mind. Others loitering,
checking maps and studying their smartphone apps. But there was no one who looked anything like Loflin's mother, or the pictures Alex had shown him of Nicole.

Devereaux settled back in his chair and tried to not deliberately focus on one screen, or search for one likeness. It was a technique he'd learned years ago, when he'd taken a surveillance course at the Police Academy. The idea was to let your eyes rove freely across the whole area, and leave it to your subconscious to intuitively pick out the relevant image.

Devereaux stayed that way, barely moving, hardly even blinking, for another thirty minutes. He was practically in a trance when Loflin's words about her mother from the previous afternoon floated back into his head.
She truly believes she's saving the kids. She wants to do something nice for them…
That sounded wonderful, especially when he measured it against some of the foster parents he'd had as a kid. But how could he explain the insane paradox? In the woman's mind,
saving
equaled
killing
. Devereaux just couldn't fathom that kind of logic.

The thought brought into focus another area where the woman had an advantage over him. He didn't have a clue how her mind worked. But she clearly understood him. She knew him well enough to lay a trail of bread crumbs he couldn't help but follow. She'd left Ethan's treasure where he was bound to find it. And the trimmed hair, at the Roadside Rendezvous. And the railroad museum flier. She'd even known things about him he hadn't known himself. Fundamental things. Like who his father really was. And that he had a daughter.

Devereaux pulled out his phone, called Bruckner, and asked him to come and take over watching the monitors. He'd realized he wasn't going to find the woman by looking inside the park. He was going to have to look inside her head.