“You think so?” I draped my arms over his shoulders and laced my fingers together.

  “Very much. I want this to last, Morgan, not just for a few months or a year. I need you, and I just have to ask for you to be patient. I'm not used to someone wanting me back.”

  “You have me as long as you want me. I know you need time. I know you need to get used to my annoying ways.”

  “Baby, I don't find you annoying at all. You're perfect.” He tweaked my chin with his thumb and index finger. “You need help with dinner?”

  “No, you work because I know you brought case files, and you're way too distracting for me.” I smiled as he dropped a kiss to my smile and then lifted me off the counter to gently set me on my feet.

  “You're really good for my ego.”

  “Only telling the truth. Work because you have three women to get out of prison.”

  “So much pressure, baby.” He kissed the top of my head, and I watched him as he left the kitchen to grab the file box and set up on my couch and coffee table.

  Some people would find his focus on a case offensive, but I loved his passion for his job. That was one of the first things I'd noticed about him. He hadn't allowed the job to turn him bitter, even though it frustrated him on occasion. I shook my head as I finished up dinner and listened to him mutter curses. When I turned around, I found him forcing his fingers through his hair until it stood straight up.

  “Come on, Daddy, eat, and give your brain a break for a minute.”

  He left everything spread out on the coffee table and pushed up. I smiled as he drew near until he could wrap his arms around me. “Thanks for dinner, baby.” He pulled out my chair and lowered me onto it.

  “You're welcome, nothing fancy, but it's good. I'm a little out of practice on doing anything other than heating up canned soup.”

  “Better than me, I promise you that.”

  “Why were you trying to pull your hair out?”

  “The pictures aren't good enough or sufficient to let me visualize the scene. That's the worst thing about cold cases. They rarely did enough documentation of the crime scene.”

  “Then go back to the crime scene, work it like it's a new case.”

  “What?”

  “If you need to visualize the scene, then work it as a fresh scene. Go there, lay it out. You have friends who'd do a little roleplay to help you out. We can get Major to come back. Maybe it'll trigger something being back there. And he's on his meds again. Text our group and arrange to do it…same time as they were reported to have arrived on scene. I know someone at the firehouse that can get us one of their training dummies to use for Angela.” I loved the way he smiled at me.

  “Why didn't I think of that?”

  “Because you're mired in the what-ifs and don't have distance between yourself and the case. Now, the rest of the night, you're going to relax, and then tomorrow night, we reenact the crime scene.”

  “Monday morning, Joseph is going to bring Mr. Maxwell for an interview and to get a DNA sample. Can you be there?”

  “To piss off Joey…” I pretended to think about it. “Definitely.”

  “Brat.”

  “You should expect that by now. Eat, I want Daddy cuddles.”

  “What my baby wants, he gets.”

  “That's dangerous to say to me, Detective.”

  “I think I'll chance it.” He pinched my chin and pulled me toward him as he leaned in, his mouth brushed mine, and that sense of rightness overwhelmed me.

  My brain wanted to misfire and tell me it wouldn't last, that he'd get tired of catering to me, but the softness of his kiss soothed my anxiety. I wouldn't sabotage myself, I'd waited far too long for him to see me, and I wasn't going to ruin that.

  25

  Stevenson

  Most of my friends were assholes. It's the way we bonded; by giving each other shit, but when I needed them, they'd always be there even if that was working in a dark alley on a freezing night. We stood in a circle, and we all flinched as the mobile spotlights from the coroner's van clicked on. A few minutes later, Doc was cuddling to my side.

  “This is your show, Stevenson. Get to it. I'm freezing off my balls here, man.” Graves pulled the collar of his peacoat higher to cover his earlobes exposed by his black beanie.

  I sympathized. I was freezing my ass off and wanted to go back to Doc's place to snuggle on the couch with my baby warm on my lap. Waking up that morning, I'd found him draped over my chest, and he tried to get closer if I made any move. I'd get him home soon. First, we had work to do.

  “At six-thirty PM, Angela and Aiden entered the alley from the east. At seven PM, a nine-one-one call was made to report a bloody female body, obviously deceased. So we have a thirty-minute window.”

  “Any reports of vans or SUVs in the area?” Remy asked.

  “There was a report of squealing tires, but no one noticed a vehicle.”

  “Talk it out, Stevenson,” Robert said as he backed away.

  “Their mother's report said at five PM, Angela and Aiden were having dinner at a Chinese place about a block and half away. Nothing unusual…seems to have been their normal Friday night ritual. They left the restaurant about quarter after six, which is why I estimated about six-thirty.” I walked to the east side of the alley. “They'd cut through here to head back to their apartment.” I carefully made my way down the narrow alley. “If a vehicle did enter behind them, it would've blocked them in from the east, but Angela was a physically fit woman. I believe she could've easily evaded capture even with Aiden.”

  Robert looked right and left. “Once you're in here, you only have two ways of escape. What if it was a two-vehicle team?”

  “That would block her in, but we have apartments on both sides here. Angela's wounds show that she would've been in extreme pain. No one reported screams of any kind?” Remy asked as he tipped his head back, and I followed to find windows lit up on both sides.

  I checked the reports and flipped to witness statements. “The responding officer taped off the area, called in the coroner, and Homicide responded. Uniforms were dispatched to make inquiries to the tenants of the apartments, but they all claimed to hear nothing.”

  “So we have a woman and child who enter this alley, and in a matter of minutes, she's dead, and the minor is gone. Angela has a set pattern to her movements. Were there any mentions of stalking or suspicious shit in the days or weeks leading up?” Graves approached and took the folder.

  “No, but Angela had a girlfriend. I've tried to track her down, but when I asked Boss, he said about a year after the killing, the girlfriend moved away.”

  “Hate crime?” Doc asked.

  “She hadn't come out to Mary, but from all information, they were pretty open and never seemed to have any issues. That wasn't in the original report. It wasn't mentioned anywhere, and I didn't know until I talked to Boss.”

  “So, let's go with the assumption this was a team in two vehicles. Vehicle one waits outside while Angela and Aiden have dinner. Once they exit, our unknown assailants pull into traffic, and if this is the same route, they walk around the corner.” Robert grabs Doc and acts it out. “We have the van pull into block. Angela grew up around here. She's street smart. What I read in the report is she trained nearly every day. She had the means to protect herself.”

  “She would've told Aiden to run, and she would've stood her ground. From her wounds, the attack was so vicious that she was practically holding in her intestines by the time she dropped.” Doc cuddled to Robert's side as he shivered a bit.

  “If that's the case, she enters the alley, and a van or large vehicle pulls in behind her. Something happens to trigger her to protect Aiden. She tells him to run.” Graves seemed to play it out in his mind. “I agree. Her acting as decoy while Aiden escapes, the only way they could've got them both was if they were working in two teams. This seems awful organized for a one-off. Just listen.” We all went silent. The sounds of people and traffic echoed through the alley like a tunnel of sound. “They knew where to hit, even if she screamed, we're so desensitized to sound, especially down here, we block it out.”

  “Douglas…” I cleared my throat to hide my laugh at the look on Graves's face. “He brought me three case files, all with convictions. The three women had the same story. Van pulled up, grabbed the boy, all of them were between eight and ten years of age. Only difference between those cases and Angela's is they had other younger children with them. They instantly went in to protect the little girls, not thinking they'd take the older boy. Only reason Angela’s dead is she was alone with Aiden, and she fought back.”

  “What about defensive wounds, fingernail scrapings, or are they all a lost cause?” From Graves's eye roll, I could see he'd already mentally answered his own question.

  “All the samples were degraded. Mary allowed me to take a DNA sample even though hers was already on file because of her felony conviction. Any belongings of Angela and Aiden's disappeared long before Mary was released. The only thing she had left was some pictures that friends grabbed before the landlord cleared out the apartment.”

  “Are you thinking they're all connected? And where does Angela's case fall within the pattern?” Remy had something on his mind—I could already see it. But he usually kept things pretty close to the vest until he was sure.

  “Timeframe wise, her murder and Aiden's kidnapping were the last in the obvious pattern. I'm not saying they didn't continue whatever they were doing, but I think they switched MO. Up until that point, they hadn't even left a mark on the mothers. Case files said a dark van pulled up and stopped fast, two men exited through the side door, went right for the oldest male child, and then they were gone, lasted maybe minutes.”

  “How were the mothers convicted?” Graves frowned.

  “I have no idea. Each was convinced to take the Alford Plea. Which basically means they believe they'll be convicted by what the prosecution has, but they won't admit their guilt. I went over the cases and transcripts. I have no idea how they got the agreements. Other than some tiny blood amounts at supposed crime scenes, they took them down with no bodies.”

  “Victimology?” Remy asked.

  “Male children of single, widowed, or recently divorced mothers. Neighbors all claimed the same thing. The mothers seemed overwhelmed. Between eight and ten years of age. They were all different races and socioeconomic backgrounds, and three separate precincts handled the cases. Other than the single mothers and ages, there's really nothing linking them. I went to interview them. They didn't even know each other before they began serving their sentences.

  “Sandowski was the lead on Angela and Aiden's case. A Hartman in the same squad handled the Marx case. He's retired and on a houseboat in Florida. He couldn't even remember the case when I called. The other two, the detectives didn't even want to talk at all.”

  “Sandowski was…is a drunk. Instead of calling all his cases into question, his superiors offered him early retirement with full benefits. I think there was some heat coming down on several of his cases, not only for mishandling of evidence but also excessive force. They went with an out of sight, out of mind strategy.” Robert sighed as he gathered up all the files and pulled out the images. He dropped each one to the ground. “What do these four boys have in common?”

  “I checked the medical records I could find. Each boy was in perfect health, with no history of anything other than common ailments for children of that age. There were several notes about medical releases for sports, but they didn't play in the same leagues that I could find. Aiden and Marx attended the same school, but the other two didn't.”

  “Could it be a matter of sex trafficking?” Graves asked.

  “Angela was beautiful. They would've taken her and Aiden, I believe. Who runs that now, Graves?” Remy crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Dekland Mancini. He's been making a name for himself for about a decade, but he has a certain flavor, blonde and thin, cheerleader types. As far as I know, Organized Crime hasn't gotten any intel on him snatching children, especially male ones. As much as I hate the guy, he doesn't fit for this, but he’s very money motivated. I could make contact with a few people from my days there.”

  “I'd appreciate it.”

  “Has any DNA turned up, body dumps, skeletons, something?” Robert kept staring at the pictures on the ground.

  “No John Does have been found, but Vega is helping out with that. I got her the DNA on all the cases, and she's running them through her system for an organization she works for that specializes in naming skeletal remains. Except for a few drops of blood, it's like these boys never existed. Maxwell is flying in over the weekend, and his lawyer is bringing him in for an interview Monday. I don't want to put this case back on the damn shelf, especially thinking it's a serial kidnapping and three women are going to most likely die in prison.”

  “I'll call Gladys and see what her schedule looks like for some pro bono work. She'll be able to get us access. We're going to take some heat for this one.” Robert lifted his gaze and moved around our tight circle.

  Remy snorted. “Daddy, when don't we have heat coming down on us?”

  “This is true, baby. We haven't picked up another case yet, so Remy and I are in since it looks like you need the extra help.”

  “And since someone in Homicide thinks I do shoddy work, I'll volunteer to be errand boy to just stay out of the office.”

  “I think our Graves has a crush.” Remy teased Graves as he flipped Remy off.

  “I'm going to go see Mama Sue since you're all mean to me.” Graves made a show of throwing a tantrum and stomping out of the alley to get to a nearby diner.

  “Since he's gone, who was the DA assigned to the cases?” Robert asked as he bent to pick up the photos, carefully stacking them and putting them back in the folder.

  “You know it was his old man. He didn't personally prosecute the cases, but ain't no way he saw them come through his office, and no one got suspicious.” Remy and District Attorney Graves had an animosity that caused wars, he had no respect for the District Attorney or the State's Attorney, and Graves's mom held that position.

  “The Attorneys Graves don't care about shit other than their convictions and approval ratings. You think Gladys could get me the transcripts?” I asked as I glanced at Doc and saw my baby needed to get home. He was looking tired.

  “All I can do is ask, Stevenson. But you know she'd do anything for us,” Robert answered, and I turned my attention to him to find him darting his gaze back and forth between Doc and me.

  “Remy, can you talk to Fran and see if any complaints came in on our first three victims? I know there was nothing on Mary or Angela. I checked when I got the case.”

  “You got it.”

  “I'll talk to Vega about breaking out her animation software and recreate that night with several options about how it went down.”

  “Thanks for coming out.”

  “We're your family, man. All you ever have to do is call. I'm going to get my baby boy home. It's almost time for our daughter's storytime, and I'm not having my youngest mad at me.”

  Roo had her dads wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it. “Go on, your husband and daughter bat their lashes at you, and you cave.”

  “I do not.”

  I rolled my eyes at Robert's protest, but he laced his fingers through Remy's and led him toward the street where they’d parked. Doc packed up the lights, and I stowed the files in my truck to help him.

  “You look tired, baby,” I whispered as I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, tugging him back to me.

  “I'm always tired. Maybe we can plan a vacation.”

  “Mountains with no cell reception?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Baby, let's solve this damn case, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “Don't tease, Daddy, because I'll hold you to it.”

  “I wouldn't tease you, well, not in any way you don't like. Let's go home and cuddle on the couch.”

  He nodded, and I turned him in my arms, lowered my head until my mouth pressed to his, and once again, that overwhelming sense of belonging hit me. I stroked his smooth cheeks with the backs of my fingers and then tucked his hair behind his ears. I reluctantly released him. I'd follow him back to the coroner's office and then drive us to his place. I waited until he was safely in the driver's seat with the doors locked, and then I walked to my truck.

  Since the night of his birthday, I'd broken down and analyzed every interaction I'd had or feeling I'd had toward Morgan in the years after we'd met. I wasn't unaware that Joseph had royally fucked with my head and my self-esteem. Yet I hadn't realized how much I’d kept my baby at arm’s length to unconsciously protect myself. No more, he was mine, and I'd make sure he was always happy and safe with me. I just hoped I could do that.

  26

  Doc

  As I entered the morgue, I pushed a sigh out and slipped the straps of the backpack from my shoulders. I was dressed in my court clothes since that's where I was going to be forced to go later that day.

  “Hey, Doc, I thought you were in court today?” Stuart, my assistant, came out of the storage cooler where we housed our overflow.

  “I'm headed there soon, but I needed to pick up some notes. Anything exciting today?”

  “No, but a messenger came by earlier and dropped off a package for you. I signed for it and just told them to put it on your desk.”

  I frowned as I looked at the plain cardboard box and dropped my bag on my desk. The Feds better not be sending me more shit to go over. I was already tired of outlining every fuck up the original coroner had gotten wrong, and the list was long; that didn't bode well for me.

  The address on the box was from the strip, but the number was fake, and I stepped back. “Was there anything weird about the delivery person?” I'd gotten suspicious of weird packages. In my years as the medical examiner, I'd received a threat or two.