They rode the elevator to her floor, and while he headed to the conference room to get situated again, she entered her office. As soon as she set her backpack down, her phone rang. It was Andy.
“Agent Shepard,” she said.
“It’s Andy. I have an update on your half brother.”
“Really?” She sat, not quite sure if she should be standing. “That was very fast.”
“I do work magic.”
Melina leaned forward a bit, unable to summon a smile. “And?”
“Your DNA was a familial hit to a young man by the name of Dean Guthrie, who it turns out does have a juvenile record. He was arrested for vagrancy and petty theft when he was seventeen. The records were in sealed juvenile courts, which is why I didn’t find them immediately. Dean received six months’ detention followed by probation. After that, he wasn’t arrested again.”
“Do you have a picture?”
“An old picture. It was taken about twenty years ago when he was arrested. It should be in your email now.”
Once Mecum got into the Mission’s personnel files, he had access to all the employee and volunteer information for anyone who worked at the Mission. However, the data required that he search each individual, and he did not have that kind of time. Then he spotted the draft of the Mission brochure Sarah Beckett had mentioned.
It was full of pictures from everyday life at the Mission. He scrolled through the pages, searching the faces of the women who had been through the doors of the Mission. He looked through each not once but twice, but he did not see his girl. He sat back, disappointed that he had not found her. “Where are you?”
He scrolled to the volunteers’ page, not sure what to expect. Midway down the page, he saw her. It was a headshot, and she was staring into the camera. Her lips were compressed into a not-quite-grim line that was somewhere between a smile and annoyance.
“Melina Shepard. Ms. Perky Breasts!” he said.
He scrolled to the next page and saw a group shot of the volunteers. Everyone was staring at the camera except the man standing beside Melina. Instead he was staring at her. As he continued through the brochure, there were more group pictures. Each time this man was in a picture with Melina, he was either close to her or looking at her. The man’s name was Sam Jenkins.
He could see Sam had a thing for Melina, so what had she been doing out on the street? Was she trying to help the girls? Was she looking for someone?
He searched her name on the internet and was caught off guard when an article popped with her name and real profession. Melina Shepard. Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.
“Holy shit.”
He sat back, feeling as if a lightning bolt had struck him. What had TBI been doing on the street corner that night? He drummed his fingers on his injured leg.
Did they suspect he was in the Nashville area? Had someone actually missed his other girls? Or had it been a fluke? They had to know or suspect something. Random stuff like that did not happen.
He turned to another set of cameras and activated the feeds from his three houses. The first two were as he had left them, isolated and untouched. But the third. “Shit, it’s swarming with cops!”
He touched the screen but drew back as more cops strolled into view. He had been on the property two days ago, and it had been perfectly undisturbed.
He rubbed his thigh. He knew the TBI agent had gotten a good look in his van, and he had enjoyed the first blush of fear and panic in her eyes. But then she had stabbed him, and his temper had exploded. He had assumed she was a streetwise whore, not a cop hunting him.
Since the cancer, he had become very aware of time slipping through his fingers and his eventual loss of control over his life. Perhaps because of the cancer, he was less panicked than he would have been a decade ago. His time might be running out faster now, but he still had enough to make his Vivian submit.
He returned to the Mission’s personnel files, but Melina, who was not a paid employee, was not listed. However, Sam was paid staff, and his contact information was on file.
“Meh-lina.” He liked the sound of the name. Rolled off the tongue. He studied the man’s face. “I bet Sam can tell me where you live.”
If this man did not know where Melina lived, then the lovely Sarah Beckett certainly did. All he had to do was get one of them alone, and given the persuasive skills of a hand drill, either one would be willing to tell him everything he wanted to know about Melina.
Now the question was, Who could he go after first?
When in doubt, set it on fire. Bonnie had used a little harmless arson over the years to create the perfect distractions. Today, she figured she would do the same.
As she slipped into the yard adjacent to the Shepard house, she tried not to think about the money Sonny had spent. Shit. But she should not be surprised. She had raised the boy, and if the shoe had been on the other foot, she would have spent the money.
She kept telling herself that as she opened their trash can. She dumped lighter fluid into the can, stepped back, and tossed in a match. The flames shot upward like a blowtorch onto the adjacent privacy fence.
She walked out the other gate and toward her car, parked across the street. She knew running would draw unwanted attention. Sinking low in her seat, she watched as Mr. Shepard hobbled out of his house with his wife on his trail. Good people were so damn easy to predict.
Mrs. Shepard sprinted as best she could as her husband leaned on crutches with his cell phone pressed to his ear. The water splashed out of the hose, but it was barely enough to contain the growing flames.
When Mrs. Shepard was fully distracted, Bonnie got out of her car and hurried toward the house. Inside the front door, she followed the sound of cartoons and found Elena sitting on the couch eating Goldfish.
“Come on, baby, we got to go,” she said softly.
“Where are we going, BB?” Elena asked.
“Ice cream. I promised you an ice cream. Don’t worry, Mrs. Shepard said it was okay. She said I just need to have you back in about an hour.”
She did not give the girl a chance to answer as she gathered her up off the couch and dashed outside. The difference between Elena and Melina was marked. Melina would have been screaming her head off, whereas Elena was quiet and compliant.
“I don’t want to go,” the child said meekly.
“It’s okay. We’ll be back before you know it.”
“Why is there a fire?”
Bonnie hustled the kid into the car, which was outfitted with a baby seat. She had stolen the car from a shitty apartment complex late last night. Even if the owner had called in the theft, she figured she had a couple of hours before the cops were really looking. That would be plenty for what she had in mind. The car seat strap clicked in place. Bonnie patted the kid on the head and slammed the car door.
In the distance, shouts and alarms blared as Bonnie punched the accelerator and the two took off. Mrs. Shepard had turned her back on Elena for less than five minutes. But for people like Bonnie, five minutes was a lifetime. Hell, in seconds she could swipe a wallet, pinch a purse, or drive off in a stolen car. She had done all those things to near perfection.
Bonnie glanced in the rearview mirror at Elena’s small face, tight with worry. As she drove, she rummaged in a grocery bag where she had stashed a teddy bear. She tossed it toward Elena. It hit the seat beside her.
“I got that for you, baby,” she said. “It’s like your teddy bear.”
“It’s not mine,” Elena pouted. “And I want mine.”
“We won’t be gone long enough for you to miss your bear.” What the hell was that little creature’s name. Jimmy? Timmy?
“Are we really getting ice cream?” Elena asked.
“We are going to see Sonny first,” she said.
She angled the car around a sharp corner and then took another quick turn. By now the Shepards would have realized the fire had been a distraction and Elena was gone. Those two were the type to unleash all sorts of hell in her direction. Just her damn luck that all those years ago Melina had been rescued by the Mod Squad.
“I don’t want to see Sonny,” Elena said. “He has mean eyes.”
“He isn’t mean, kiddo. He’s a big ol’ teddy bear, and if you scratch his tummy, he’ll laugh.” She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the girl’s frown. No matter. She could scream until she passed out for all she cared. It would be up to Sonny to convince the girl he could be nice, and then the three of them could get on with their lives.
Elena sank down in her seat, staring into the smiling face of the toy bear. “I want Mrs. Shepard.”
“How can you want her, baby? I’ve been taking care of you for almost a year.”
“I don’t want to be in cars anymore,” Elena said. “I don’t like it.”
The kid’s face scrunched up and tears welled in her eyes. Jesus. Not the tears and the screaming. Some of Melina had already rubbed off on this kid.
“I’ll buy you two ice creams, and I’ll have them put a cherry on top just like you like.”
The pouting lip did not tremble as much. “With sprinkles.”
“With sprinkles, baby.”
Elena sniffed.
Like everyone else, the kid had her price. Elena wanted sprinkles. Sonny wanted Elena. Bonnie was sure Sonny could scrape together enough money to keep them all happy for a while.