“No. Speedy Messenger service.”

  A bike messenger, they delivered just about everything in the city that people didn't want to go through the regular channels. I pulled my phone out of the front pocket of my backpack and called Carter.

  “Hey, baby, you okay?”

  “I got a weird package. Box isn't that big, but the address on it is the street from the strip, but the number isn't right.”

  “Baby, I'm going to have Remy call someone to come look at it. I want you to stay on the line, okay?”

  “It's probably just a typo.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” Robert, Doc got a weird package. Call that new guy you know in Bomb Squad. “Have you picked it up?”

  “No, but isn't the Bomb Squad a bit overkill?”

  Stuart jerked his head up, and I motioned him to leave. He didn't wait to think twice about that. I hit the biohazard alarm that would lock down the morgue. I'd gone through one other bomb threat, and as much as I tried to play it off, I thought about every person I'd helped put in jail, especially me going head-to-head with Officer Comstock in the murder of his estranged wife. That's when it hit me. I was due to testify before the grand jury in the case against him the following week.

  I left the room and stood on the other side of the automatic doors, and just stared at my desk.

  “Not when it comes to you, baby. I'd rather overreact about this than you get hurt.” I heard Remy's muffled voice talking to Carter. “There's a Commander Dolan Sharp coming your way. He's a new guy. He's bringing his K-9 to check the package and will open it for you. Me and the rest of the guys will be headed your way in a few minutes as soon as I know Sharp is there.”

  I groaned. I heard about Sharp. He'd already gotten a bit of a reputation for being an asshole. SWAT and Bomb Squad people had a bit of an attitude anyway. “You're incredibly sweet, though.”

  “Gotta make my baby happy.”

  “This better not be a bomb or anything. Do you know what would happen to all my samples and residents?”

  “Of course you'd be worried about what would happen to the bodies.”

  “They've already gone through enough trauma.”

  “Why the fuck is an alarm going off at the morgue?” Douglas's voice boomed, and I grinned.

  “I'm going to see your boyfriend.” Graves muttered.

  “I think Graves has a crush.”

  “Graves is going to start pouting if we don't stop that.”

  “He's adorable when he pouts.”

  “Baby.”

  “But not as adorable as you, Daddy.”

  “Uh-huh, nice save.” I giggled at the frustration in his voice.

  “Doctor Warner?” I turned to glance over my shoulder as a tall, imposing man with a black German shepherd at his side. His black hair shaved on the sides and long on top, he was in his SWAT gear. A black bag held in his left hand.

  “Yes, the package is on my desk.”

  Sharp gave me a stiff nod and entered the morgue. I watched through the glass as I saw his mouth move in silent commands as the dog carefully sniffed around the box. The dog sat down. When Sharp pulled out a knife, I entered to join him.

  “Jupiter didn't hit on any explosives.”

  “Sorry you had to come out, my boyfriend is a bit…”

  “Better to have me come in than have a colleague scraping you off the walls.”

  “Aren't you lovely?”

  “Do you have a mask in case we're dealing with a biological threat?”

  “Of course.” I retrieved my mask as he slipped the straps of his own over his head. I stepped back to allow him to open the box. The sensors would've alerted to any known substances, but if they were sealed, it wouldn't trigger the alarms until they went airborne.

  He split the tape and eased back the flaps. “Call crime scene and have them get here now.” He eased backward until he was away from my desk. “You have some fucked up friends.”

  I called in Crime Scene to take over. I was impatient to approach but didn't want to disturb anything until the techs had a chance to take samples and pictures. “What was in there?”

  “Four pictures of children covered in what looks like blood.”

  The automatic doors whooshed open, and the entire Cold Case Unit, along with Douglas, rushed in. I grinned as Carter hugged me tight to his chest. “Are you okay?”

  “Let your baby breathe, Jesus fucking Christ,” Graves muttered as he passed and headed for my desk, peeking into the box without getting too close.

  “Thanks for coming out, Sharp,” Robert said and then leaned down to whisper in my ear to ask if I was all right, and I nodded.

  “Not a problem, Kauffman. Is there a reason you called?”

  “Return address didn't exist,” Robert answered.

  “Street exists, but the number and apartment don't.”

  “You have any ideas who would send it?” Douglas went to take a look himself, and Graves instantly moved out of the way. Those two were going to come to blows one of these days, and I really wanted to be around when it happened.

  “Comstock popped into my head. His grand jury for capital murder is next week, but he'd be more the type to attack in person.”

  “Comstock?” Sharp asked.

  “Officer Comstock is being tried for the murder of his ex-wife.”

  “I'm new in the city. I don't know him.”

  “But to be honest, the list is really long, and I’m doing that project for the Feds. I don't know if that's common knowledge or not beyond Stevenson and the agents who brought me in to review several cases.”

  The questioning ceased when the crime scene techs arrived and took over. They photographed the scene and bagged everything to see about pulling prints in the lab. I broke away from Carter and went to talk to the senior investigator. I asked him to lay out the pictures in the box.

  “We'll do a test to see if it's human blood or not once we get back upstairs. Do you recognize the kids in the photos?” Porter pointed at them with a gloved hand, and I leaned down to get a better look.

  “That's Aiden Maxwell. Older but still Aiden.”

  “What?” Carter said and then was leaning over my shoulder. “Those are the other three kids, the ones from the closed cases. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Doc, are you saying those photos are from the cases, but our missing kids look older?” Remy was right there, looking over my other shoulder.

  “Yeah, bone structure is the same, but they're gaunter as if they lost their baby fat. Porter, can I get copies of all of this? I'm reexamining some cases, and I want a better look.”

  “I'll email you a report as soon as we're done.”

  “Thanks, Porter.”

  “Not a problem, Doc, we'll get out of your way. We'll get a preliminary report by the end of the day.”

  “That'll work, thanks.”

  They gathered up everything they needed, and Sharp didn't bother saying goodbye as he left behind them with his K-9 close at his side.

  “Those can't be the same kids, could it?”

  “It would explain why we never found bodies or had hits on the DNA for John Doe remains. The Maxwell case is cold but still active. The others…they probably didn't even put those samples in the national database since they got the guilty pleas. Why now, though? Why taunt Doc?”

  “Maybe they're tired of not getting recognition for the perfect crimes. They committed four, three scapegoats pled out to get a life with the possibility of parole, and people just stopped looking for Aiden.” Douglas leaned back to perch on the edge of my desk, and Graves snarled as he moved out of the way. “It's been over twenty-five years.”

  “What would make someone come out now?” Graves crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Why wouldn't they? We still have no idea who they are. No closer to catching them or whatever their motive was for taking these boys and framing the mothers. Again, perfect, and those don't happen. There's always some fuck-up, and maybe this is his. He's just a few decades late giving himself away.” Remy leaned back against Robert's chest where the older man reclined against the wall.

  “I think I need to have a serious talk with Gladys. I gave her the information to look into everything, but with this newest development, she can make arrangements to meet with them and ask her own questions.”

  My phone chirped, signaling I was supposed to be on my way to the courthouse. “Fuck, I have to get to court. Bye, Daddy.” I jumped up and kissed Carter's cheek, grabbed my bag, the notes I needed, and then made a run for the doors. Everyone was laughing behind me, and I nearly ran into Sharp outside the door. “Um, is there a reason you're creeping around, Commander?”

  “You need protection.”

  “I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And sorry to say this, Sharp, you're not my type.”

  “Brat, you ain't mine either.”

  “My feelings are hurt. You want to walk me out so you can satisfy whatever sense of duty this is you have?”

  “Your Daddy doesn't spank you enough.”

  I let out an offended gasp and walked towards the ambulance bay exit. “How do you know—”

  “You throw around Daddy an awful lot, and I've heard rumors that you and that Cold Case Unit are on the weird side. Douglas seemed okay the few times I've met him.”

  “Douglas is getting corrupted. He was too uptight, and I think he wants to belong to the cool kids club. You looking for membership, Commander?”

  “No, I can do without weirdness. I found out what type of vehicle you drove and already had Jupiter clear it for you.”

  “Ain't you sweet.”

  “I'm really not. Don't make a habit of my dog having to sniff your mail.”

  “Too late, Commander, I'm very popular.”

  “Goodbye, brat.” He broke off, and he and his K-9 went in the opposite direction.

  People thought we were weird. They were the weird ones. I got in my car to make my way to a long day at the courthouse. I loathed testifying, but it was a part of my job. Hopefully, Porter had a report for me by the time I was done. Why would someone come out of the dark just to fuck with us? Yet, also the horror that the boys were still alive terrified me. Because if they were, what the hell had they endured for almost three decades.

  27

  Stevenson

  I'd held it together for Morgan but whoever the bastard was who snatched the kids showed up a little too close for comfort. The talk with the messenger service didn't go anywhere. All they said was the guy paid cash, average height and weight, plain brown hair and eyes; there was absolutely nothing extraordinary or noteworthy about him. What made matters worse was I had Vega on my ass for a threat to her precious Doc. At that moment, he was working. They'd called him in because the usual ME was sick, and while he took care of that, I needed to get ahead on this fucking case. I was tired of being in the dark.

  I laid out copies of the four photos on my desk and stared at them. The next day I had that interview with Maxwell. I needed something to push him but keep Joseph from shutting Maxwell down.

  “Do you love me, Stevenson?”

  I jerked my head up and glanced over my shoulder to find Vega framed in the doorway, holding up a letter-sized envelope. “That depends on what you got to offer me.”

  She entered and came to hop up on my desk—her and Doc's favorite ways to sit. “I did age progression on your four missing boys. I used the photos from their case files and the ones delivered to Doc as reference.”

  I took the envelope, bent the clasps to open it, and slipped the four images out. I was amazed at the detail. “These are great.” I noticed her slight shrug. She and Morgan were the same about compliments. “Did you run them through the facial recognition?”

  “As we speak, but I lowered the percentage for matches, and doing a manual comparison. It might take a bit longer since its flagging a bunch. But I also had an idea. Something hit me last night while I was inputting the markers for the faces into my programs. It may be a little out there.”

  I let out a bitter chuckle and followed it with a heavy sigh. “I'm willing to listen to whatever theory…I seriously don't care about how crazy.” I stared at the age progression images along with the ones in the package delivered to Morgan. If they were actually alive several years after being taken, what the hell did the people who kept them do to them all that time? The photos from the box didn't show any obvious physical trauma, while they were skinnier, that could be attributed to aging and reaching the start of puberty.

  “It's sort of theory mixed with a bit of urban legend.”

  “Boss mentioned something about urban legends when I went to talk to him about Angela and Aiden's case.”

  “Back in the sixties, seventies, and some of the eighties, there was a host of groups coming in, religion and spirituality. A lot of street-corner preachers, and the end is nigh-type shit. Cult type stuff. Disenfranchised runaway youth seduced by the promise of something better. We still have a few Christian Outreaches coming onto the strip, but Boss has a bit of a monopoly, and we're open to everyone.”

  “What struck you?” I asked as I let her process. Her and Morgan's brains worked similarly, and I knew just to sit back. She'd talk it out.

  “There was a group just called Transcendence. I called some of the old-timers to get specifics to see if it held any weight…again, urban legend. They had a thing for bringing single mothers into the fold. They were attempting to build this great army and needed children to do so. As far as anyone knows, they disbanded in the mid-eighties, one day there, the next gone. They had an old hardware storefront on the edge of the strip.”

  “What was the point of the children?”

  “They got them young, easier to mold to the group’s cause. They ran a free childcare program for two decades. Child protective services were brought in a few times, but nothing came of the reports. The children weren't showing signs of abuse or neglect. Transcendence flew pretty low on the radar. They weren't flashy. Not a lot of money being thrown around. They did just enough to skirt the line that no one really talked about them. Most thought it was just an organization for unwed or single mothers to tap into help.”

  “What made you think it could be a group like that?”

  “At first, you look at those images, classic proof of life pics for a ransom. There's newspapers with dates. These aren't kids with families that have the means to pay a ransom. It seems cruel in a way, taking an image every year. Check the dates.”

  I leaned down close. Oh shit. “It's the anniversary of the grab.”

  “It's progression, like before and after. It's an experiment…data for an eventual hypothesis.”

  “Why, though? I get the mentality of a kidnapper…someone taking children for a purpose, whether that's monetary or to sexualize them for either trafficking or for private use. I've been around, I've seen all kinds of shit. This just seems over the top, and to pop up with this after decades even crueler to me.”

  “What do offenders usually do right before they escalate?”

  “They get impatient, but almost thirty years is a bit long to suddenly lose patience.”

  “No one was looking before. You and Doc are asking questions. Inquiries are being made by others. An entire production at the Barnes-Maxwell crime scene. Rumors spread. It got back to our unknown suspect.”

  “So, we may be looking at a group with ulterior motives. Some long-term sociological experiment?” Just what I needed, some cult or whatever, that just meant more cases, random snatches from around the world, depending on how far the group traveled or where their leader resided. As much as I wanted anything to look into, cults weren't something I wanted to have to deal with.

  “Why not? Crazier things have happened in this city. You wanted a theory, and every urban legend has some hint of truth.”

  “Anyone I can talk to to learn more? Maybe Boss?” I leaned back in my chair, lifted my arms, and wrapped my hands around the back of my neck. The stiffness and posture were making my neck and shoulders ache. It didn't help that I felt a headache coming on.

  “Boss, no. It was before his time as a community activist. He was around but not immersed yet. There's a street historian, a preceptor if you will. Prof. Kinda weird. Total burnout, but he knows all the history of the strip, good, bad, and horrific.”

  “Do I need an intro?”

  “He's not a fan of Remy, so avoid that backup. He runs an unofficial Strip Museum of sorts. He loves Doc, so mention his name.”

  “Most people love Remy.”

  She shook her head. “Most people either love or hate Remy. There's no in-between. Prof and him had a beef. I don't know what it was about. Sometimes best not to ask questions when it comes to Remy's past. Prof can definitely tell you about the groups operating on the strip.”

  “Got an address for me?” She gave it to me, and I put the address in to get directions.

  “Just be careful. He'll only give you so much. Don't treat it like an interrogation.”

  “Would it be an issue to take Doc?”

  “May work in your favor. How's my Doc doing?”

  “He's not acting like he's freaked out…maybe he isn't, but until further notice, he goes nowhere without me or someone else. He didn't fight me.”

  “Of course he didn't. Daddy knows best. How are you doing with all that? I know you fought it.”

  “I guess…I only fought it because I didn't think I could give him what he needed to be happy. That's all I cared about.”

  “Which is the reason you're the person for him. Even if there were no titles shared, you still do everything he needs. Cash told me she talked to you the night of his birthday, and if I'm not mistaken, that's the night you claimed him.”

  “She said some things I needed to hear. The attraction was always there, but my insecurities got the better of me.”

  “We all have them, even someone as perfect as I am.”

  “Your ego is too big for self-doubt.”

  “No, it's not. In the world, there are these preconceived notions of what a Dominant or caregiver should look like. It's in the media and books. I never saw a Dominant who looked like me until I was well into my twenties. I'm a short, adorable computer geek with a tall, gorgeous, and butch babygirl. We can't worry so much about what the outside world deems is appropriate or acceptable. Doc is a Little and Submissive in his fifties. Power exchange has nothing to do with outward appearance. Everything is a state of mind. You don't have to run scenes or go to some club. How two consenting adults, or more, choose to love each other is up to them.”