Finding Her Son

EMILY TAPPED THE PHONE to end the call. A cop. She should’ve known when the jerk burst through the door like some misguided superhero. He’d ruined everything. She and Sister Kate had almost guilted Ghost into talking. Now he was facedown on the floor, zip ties around his wrists, with no interest in spilling his guts to anyone. Great, just great. A month’s worth of work down the drain.

Sister Kate knelt beside the man they’d hoped would be their informant. “You can tell us. It’s the right thing to do.”

Ghost glared at the nun. “Leave me alone.”

“Sister,” the cop said. “Step away from him. He’s in custody.”

An angry fire lit Sister Kate’s eyes, one Emily had seen toast bigger brutes than this interfering officer. She waited for the blowtorch of words to fry him. In truth, she looked forward to it.

Sister Kate gave the cop a thorough once-over, then nodded her head before standing and walking away from Ghost. “You’re one of the Bradford boys. Handsome as sin, the lot of you. The middle one, I’d wager. You’ve got the look of your daddy. I’ll give you a pass. For now.”

Emily almost smiled at the man’s slack-jawed expression.

“You know my father?”

“Oh, my, yes. Sergeant Bradford visited my halfway house to recruit for his football team. I hear you’re following in his footsteps, Mitch.” At his slight nod, she patted his arm. “I was sorry about what happened to him.”

The man’s jaw tightened, but Emily didn’t miss the flash of pain across his face. She recognized the emotion all too well, but she couldn’t let herself sympathize with him, even if Sister Kate was right, and his rugged good looks would make angels weep.

Emily had only one mission. Finding her son. And this cop—Mitch Bradford—had ruined her most promising lead. With nothing to lose, she bolted to Ghost and grabbed his collar. “Tell me the name,” she said, her permanently husky voice still foreign to her ears, but an all-too-physical reminder of her entire purpose in life. “It’s the only way you might talk your way out of this.”

“Go to hell. You and your nun.” Ghost flipped on his back and kicked out. A chair near his feet flew across the room. He lunged at Emily.

“Get away from him.” Mitch grasped Emily’s arm and yanked her to safety before subduing Ghost and pinning him with a knee to his back.

The brute on the floor grunted. “You should’ve stayed out of it.”

“Shut up,” Mitch said. He double-checked the zip-tie cuffs just as a cruiser pulled up, sirens blaring. A uniform raced inside.

“Get this guy out of here,” Mitch said. “I’ll file my report once I get back.”

The cop nodded and escorted Ghost from the building. Officer Bradford walked toward the girls huddled in the corner, his gait slightly off when he put weight on his right leg. As he approached, they shrank away. Emily didn’t blame them. It had taken her months to get past the fragmented flashes of memory when any man in a dark coat had come near her. For these teens—one girl’s eye was swollen shut; another’s face was mottled yellow and green from old bruises—all they’d see would be a tall, muscular brute who had shown he could incapacitate anyone who crossed him.

Then his expression softened. “You did great, Heather,” he said softly. “Is everyone else okay? Anybody need a doctor?”

The girls shook their heads.

“Sister Kate takes care of us,” one said, crossing her arms in defiance. “She’s a nurse.”

He nodded, not pushing just accepting. Emily couldn’t get over the change in his demeanor. He’d transformed in seconds from a warrior—someone she was convinced could’ve killed Ghost if he’d wanted—to a man with a gentle gaze. Still, none of the girls would look him in the eye. His focus lowered to the discolored cheeks of one of the teens. His lips grew tight. Good. If nothing else, the evidence of abuse made him angry.

“Will you tell me about Ghost?” he said, still keeping his voice calm and low.

Amid the blare of more sirens, the girls looked as if they’d rather die than say anything.

“I got proof they’re hooked up with drug dealers.” Ghost’s shouts rammed through the open doorway. “I can give you names, dates, places. I know their johns. I can help you put ’em away. Give their babies to people who deserve ’em.”

Heather shivered and caressed her burgeoning belly. Her gaze rose to Mitch’s. “He trolls for girls who get knocked up. Tries to sweet-talk the ones who haven’t been around too long. He sells himself as someone who can help. We know better. They’re buying a one-way ticket when they go with Ghost.”

“You never see any of them again,” Mitch said, the statement stark and certain, the ending unspoken.

A commotion sounded from the kicked-in doorway.

“I got something for Coach…Officer Bradford,” a young kid shouted.

The cop stood and walked over to the boy, who handed over a cell phone. “I couldn’t find Vance, Coach.”

“That’s okay, Ricky.”

The boy received an affectionate ruffle to his hair, and Mitch guided the kid over to them. “Sister Kate, Mrs. Went-worth, this is Ricky Foster. He’s looking for his sister, Kayla.”

Over the next hour, Mitch questioned the girls and Ricky. Pregnant girls vanishing. Their babies gone. Not one of them reported missing. Until Kayla Foster.

“You’ll find her?” Ricky asked, his voice laced with hope as Mitch led him to the back exit, past the front door he and Ricky had worked side-by-side to barricade to the back exit.

“Get me the picture, and I’ll put the word out. We’ll discover what happened.”

Ricky walked out of the shelter with an expression that could only be described as cautiously optimistic.

“I wish we’d seen her.” She spoke to the nun standing at her side.

“I have a feeling with Officer Bradford on the case, Ricky will be reunited with Kayla.”

“It doesn’t always end the way we’d want, Sister,” Mitch said from behind them.

Emily hadn’t realized he’d approached. She stiffened as his huge presence overwhelmed her, making her heart race. Not with fear, though. With something else—unfamiliar and enticing at the same time.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that, boy-o,” Sister Kate said. “But we can’t give up, can we? One soul at a time.” The nun glanced at her watch. “Now, it’s getting late. We’re safe, and I need to do a bed check on my chickadees. Perhaps you’ll walk Emily to her car? It’s dark, and a pretty girl like her would do well to have a strong protector at this time of night.”

The cop turned to Emily, his chocolate eyes studying her with an intensity that made her shiver. Heat rose into Emily’s face, and she knew her cheeks must be crimson. When had Sister Kate turned into a matchmaker?

Her belly fluttered. He’d been so gentle and caring with the girls and Ricky, but she couldn’t let herself feel anything. She just prayed a man like Mitch was watching over Joshua somewhere. And that someday she would find her son.

“You ready?” Mitch asked.

She clutched the satchel she always carried containing an age-progressed photo, fliers and the case details. Could this policeman help her? She’d never felt she could rely on the police department…or the cops in it. They’d never believed her. This man seemed different somehow, but she didn’t know if she could trust him. With Ghost a lost cause, she needed another way to get information on these missing children and hopefully tie them to Joshua.

Mitch turned, and as his weight shifted to his right leg, he hesitated. She studied him for a few steps. His hip did most of the work on his right side. He tried hard not to let it show. If her job hadn’t been to notice the signs of strain on the human body, he would’ve succeeded. He’d injured himself being a hero, trying to save them.

“You’re hurt.”

He stiffened, warning her to back off, but she wouldn’t. Not when he was so obviously in pain. She dug into her purse for her keys and tugged out a card. “You injured yourself helping me, Officer. Come by. Let me take a look at your leg. Maybe I can do something for you.” She thrust the card into his hand.

“Physical therapist, huh?”

“What’ve you got to lose?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”