“We both have pasts, tell me.”

  “It was good, great even, but I didn't really see anything wrong, he had a stressful job, and mine is nowhere near nine-to-five, so the lack of regular sex didn't bother me. I loved the cuddling and intimacy. They say you can find a fuck if you know where to look.” I sighed as he turned pages, stopping to ask me about each one, told me to tell him one good thing about the image—about the memory.

  “Doesn't sound all bad, baby.”

  “It wasn't until it was. It was like night and day. It was blissfully normal.”

  “Normal isn't always a good thing.”

  “True. I never wanted to disappoint anyone. I found my place on the strip, with the freaks and weirdos. People who were unapologetically themselves, no matter what society had to say about it, and I fell for someone so far outside my chosen family I lived a double life.”

  “Did you not let them meet him because you knew in your gut they wouldn't approve?”

  “They would've accepted him because I liked him…that I saw a future with him.”

  “They would've given him shit to welcome him into the fold. That's just their way.”

  “It is.” I turned the page and froze. It was a picture right after the first hit.

  “What's wrong? Talk it out.”

  “He'd hit me for the first time the night before.”

  “You were unhappy before that, though. The change was in your eyes…you held yourself a little stiffer next to him. As if you sensed it coming?”

  “He'd become more controlling. He suddenly didn't like when I was away from him…getting angry when I got emergency calls from Boss about someone needing help. Accusations that I was cheating. I should've seen it.”

  “Honey, we don't always see it when we're in the middle. We can't objectively compare before and after until we're out of it and have a safe distance between us and what or who is trying to hurt us. It was that way with Joseph. He was never overly affectionate or prone to public displays. I knew his image meant everything to him. Again, we don't see the signs until it's too late, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I know, and I'll get it, but not just yet. Like you said, I'm still processing. After two decades, you're pretty sure you won't ever see them again, and what if he was behind the kidnappings and Angie's murder, and I didn't see it?”

  “Killers have lived normal family lives. Spouses, parents, and kids were never even aware. We don't want to believe the worst in someone, especially someone we love.”

  “I know, my stupidity just came back to bite me.”

  “It happens, and for someone who rarely forgets anything, that's gotta be even harder. Why don't we have an early night? I'm going to meet up with Douglas early to see about getting a sample for Vega to run. But for tonight, what does my baby want to do?” he asked as he closed and removed the album, tossed it aside, and turned me to face him. “You can have anything you want.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything, as long as it won't endanger you, it's yours.”

  I hummed and lifted my arms to lace my fingers at his nape. “That’s awful tempting, Detective Stevenson.”

  “It's supposed to be, Doctor Warner. But do you know what I prefer that you call me?”

  “What’s that?” He gripped my hips and lifted me off my feet.

  “I prefer when my beautiful baby calls me Daddy.”

  “Is that right? Because if I remember correctly, Daddy, you didn't wa—” His mouth slammed down on mine, and I pushed closer as I parted my lips to let him inside.

  His tongue teased mine as I eased into the rhythmic sway of his body as he carried me toward the bed. I let go as he lifted his left knee onto the bed, and I bounced to stare up at him. My cock ached, and my heart beat frantically in my chest. His fists sank into the mattress beside my shoulders, and he lowered until he kissed me with those gentle presses, the ones that made me feel as if he never wanted the contact to end.

  I knew I didn't. I wanted him right there for the rest of my life, and I sensed he wanted the same. My patience grew thin, but I knew that wanting me was a leap of faith he'd never anticipated taking. He needed to be ready to make himself completely vulnerable with me, and until that moment, I savored every second we had.

  “What's going on in your head, baby?”

  “How lucky I am. I'd never dreamed you'd want me back.”

  “I'll make that up to you, I promise. Now, you going to let Daddy love on you?”

  “You're the only person I ever want loving on me.”

  “Good, that's just what I want to hear. And for tonight, no one else exists but you and me in this bed. Tomorrow is soon enough to invite trouble.”

  “Carter.” I nudged his nose with mine. “I'll never take you for granted.”

  “I won't ever take you for granted either. I didn't even know I was waiting all these years for just you.”

  33

  Stevenson

  Douglas and I were on hour four of the stakeout. So far, Gerrickson arrived for work and hadn't left yet. Television and movies made law enforcement look so glamorous, and it was anything but. I loved stakeouts, nothing but quiet and time to observe. The only thing I hated was I'd had to drop my baby off at Vega's for a sleepover for the night. I didn't want him without someone, whether that was home or at work, until we knew for sure if Gerrickson was just a coincidence or had a more sinister purpose. If we had to follow Gerrickson until late, I didn’t want him unprotected, and I trusted Vega to act as caregiver if my baby needed.

  “You're a pig.” Douglas shoved another wrapper in a plastic shopping bag, and I nearly choked on my coffee.

  “You sound like Graves now. He doesn't like working stakeouts with me either.”

  “No need for insults. What’s Graves's deal anyway? He doesn't really seem to fit with the rest of you.”

  “Graves is…Graves. He was a bit of a surprise when he became part of the Fellows' case. We didn't spend too much time together, worked as partners occasionally, great cop, personality leaves a lot to be desired. Probably doesn't help that he’s the son of high-profile parents from old money that don't seem to accept anything less than perfection. What’s your issue with Graves?”

  “No issue really, I don't know the man. His antagonism grates on me. How's Doc doing?”

  I covered my smile with a sip of my coffee and let him change the subject. I didn't know whether Douglas was gay, bi, or whatever. If he was, Graves had the type of looks that made most men lose their cool a bit. “He didn't need his past coming back, but we don't always have a choice.”

  “Do you think this guy, Gerrickson, is really behind the missing kids and the homicide?”

  “I don't know. We've got a guy with a possible stolen identity, a drug company that doesn't put out drugs, and bank accounts that would make multi-millionaires envious. The fact that he had a relationship with a medical examiner in the same time frame as the kidnappings, a ME that he abused and tried to kill a few months before Aiden's disappearance and Angie's brutal murder…makes me need answers.”

  “He tried to kill Doc?”

  “Yeah. Morgan pressed a towel to his stomach until he could get away and sewed himself up. He never looked back. My baby was too ashamed he let something happen to him that he'd helped other people escape.”

  “Abusers know how to break their victims, Stevenson. I hope you told him that.”

  “I told him, but he feels stupid. Yet if Gerrickson is Platt, then he had a very unique education. His father was the founder of a cult.”

  “He has that look about him, arrogant, probably not used to hearing the word no. So on the off-chance he’s our guy, what was the motive?”

  “Vega mentioned the possibility he used the kids to bypass human trial protocol for research, but with no drugs being produced, that seems a no. There's been mention of conditioning, creating the perfect soldier, which isn't that farfetched if you think about it. A person with a conscience or empathy can refuse to follow orders. But one brainwashed and conditioned to be a mindless drone? Hell, that doesn't even have to be used for legal purposes? Lots of people pay good money for mercenaries.”

  “What makes you think the brainwashing angle?”

  “I read the Transcendence propaganda, what would be considered their bible. Physical training began as early as eight. They were given physical laws such as how much to eat, drink, how many hours of physical training to do a day. There were rumors of psychological torture. A source sent us a few things. They'd be locked inside a metal crate for days, screams, music, sounds of abuse would be piped in, and the lights were never off.”

  “Sleep deprivation, overloading the senses. Eventually, your will gets broken down.”

  “Yeah, and then after their will was broken, they'd play an endless loop of rules and regs. By the time they were freed, their minds had broken, completely susceptible to whatever the elders told them to do.”

  “Did Platt do it to his sons?”

  “The few survivors said that Platt spoiled his sons. Whatever they wanted, they got. The sons treated the group members as servants.”

  “Sexual abuse within the organization?”

  “No allegations of sexual abuse, but procreation was highly encouraged. Yet Isiah is currently serving consecutive life sentences for kidnapping and rape. No one goes from upstanding citizen to kidnapper and violent rapist overnight. There's usually an escalation. Once the group disbanded, though, everyone scattered. They had thousands of names in their files.”

  “I get how it can happen. I understand a need to belong to a community, but the complete submission? That I don't get.”

  “To be honest, what I read, it was classic cult edicts, nothing original, it’s just like Platt borrowed from several, threw a little religion in to make it seem like God's will and all that. People need something to believe in, and faith…religion gives them something to look forward to when this life is over…a purpose to the suffering.”

  “A religious man, Stevenson?”

  “No, my parents are strict Catholics. They expected me to be a Priest or a lawyer. I didn't do either. What about you? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “My wife’s an officer. She wanted to be a Marine, just like all the other people in her family. We met, we had a whirlwind romance, married when I received orders that I was being shipped out. It worked for us. We loved each other. Best of friends. We were both thirty-five when an unplanned pregnancy changed all our plans. And three years ago, we decided to get divorced. We were just friends and roommates at the end. It wasn't some tragic thing, just a decision that was best for all three of us. A year ago, she earned her dream post overseas, but our daughter was twelve. She didn't want to leave her friends, change schools.”

  “And you did what any good dad would do?”

  “Pretty much, I put in for a transfer, sold my house, and moved here to be with Savannah.”

  “And you got to make friends with the Cold Case Unit, the pariahs of the department.”

  “Y'all aren't that bad. I mean, your process gives me a damn migraine.”

  “Not the first time we—” Movement at the front of the building caught my attention. “Seems our boy is on the move.”

  “Maybe he's headed to lunch.”

  “Would make our job a lot easier if he is.” I turned the ignition as Gerrickson appeared, and his driver was out to open the back door. I radioed Remy to let him know we were on the move and to have Vega on standby.

  A few minutes later, the car pulled away from the curb and I followed at a safe distance. We didn't have cause to place a tracker on his car. And if he was the person in charge of ordering the kidnappings and murder, we couldn't take a chance a judge could throw out the case because of improper handling. This wasn't just about keeping my baby safe. This was the possible release of three falsely imprisoned women. I wanted them to have a chance at a life. A life they'd already lost decades of.

  “Keep your head in the game. We work what we have, and hopefully, it leads us to what we need.”

  “I didn't make promises to Mary or the other mothers, but I said I'd do my best.”

  “Then let's get that sample. We prove that he's Platt…at the very least, we can get him for identity theft, which can lead to warrants to dig deeper.”

  I nodded and allowed a car to get between us and Gerrickson, but lunchtime traffic was already slow. If needed, I could turn on the siren.

  “I have eyes on you two.” Vega's voice filled the interior of the car.

  “Could you please stop hacking into our systems?”

  “What would be the fun in that, Detective? I tapped into the traffic cameras so even if you lose him, I'll have eyes on him. I want his balls, Stevenson. You don't get him, I will.”

  “Vega, I would appreciate not being implicated in a possible crime.” Douglas warned, but I didn't miss the amusement.

  “Oh, Detective Rules and Regs. Stevenson, didn't I say he couldn't join our club?”

  “But the fact he annoys Graves made you happy.”

  “Graves has his moments. I do not confirm or deny I like the pretty boy, and if you repeat that, I’ll make sure Doc has you sleeping on the couch for the next year…he's turning onto Samperson Street.”

  “I can see where he turned.”

  “Don't be snippy with me.”

  “And don't Mami me, save that for your babygirl.”

  “I need to make better life choices.”

  Vega and I snorted at Douglas muttering under his breath. He had no idea what he signed up for when he checked into the case for Doc and me. Traffic moved at an even pace, and he pulled off onto a street lined with boutiques and five-star restaurants. Shit, parking was going to be a nightmare.

  “When he stops, just let me off down the block, and I'll backtrack.”

  I nodded at Douglas as I saw Gerrickson's car stop outside Calista's Bistro. “Good thing you dress all fancy, Douglas.”

  “I don't need to dress fancy when I have a badge. Let me out here,” he said as we reached the end of the block. “I'll call you to come back for me.”

  “Thanks, Douglas.”

  “I don't like men who mistreat their partners. I'm doing this for Doc.” He got out and slammed the door, and I took a right.

  “Vega, how's my baby?”

  “He was fine when I dropped him off at work with strict orders to go nowhere without one of us.”

  “But is he holding up?”

  “He's fine, Stevenson. He's a survivor. But we need to get this guy and quick. Doc won't handle being on lockdown well.”

  “I know. We just need this sample.”

  “You'll get it, solve this case and settle into a nice boring life as a taken man.”

  “Nothing about being with Morgan will ever be boring. I just want him to be okay.”

  “We've got his back. He'll be protected. You just focus on taking Gerrickson down.”

  “That's the plan.”

  “Shit, I got a call coming in. Message me when I should meet you at the lab.”

  “Will do.” I disconnected the call and pulled into an alley just wide enough for the unmarked cruiser, and waited for Douglas to contact me for a pickup. Once our suspect finished eating and left the table, getting permission from the manager or owner to take the glass or silverware was usually pretty straightforward, especially if we asked politely.

  Getting a discarded sample on the street would entail a lot more recon, and may not produce a clean enough sample. I needed this to go perfectly. Yet I was well aware that nothing was ever perfect. If we could prove that Leif Gerrickson was Ezekiel Platt, requesting warrants would be an easier process. As much as I wanted to do everything within my power, legally or illegally, I needed to play this one completely by the book.

  I just had to remind myself of the ladies that were counting on me. The children may be lost, but whatever I could find would allow them closure. My brain wouldn't shut off, and I kept checking my watch, an hour and then two passed.

  My phone buzzed, and I tapped my Bluetooth. “Stevenson.”

  “I had to be charming, but I got what we needed. Circle around, and I'll be waiting outside. Gerrickson and his driver just pulled off.”

  “I'm parked in an alley. I'll cut through. ETA two minutes.” I disconnected, quickly sent a text to Vega to meet us at the lab, and I drove to pick Douglas up. One step closer to the truth, I just hoped it was the answers we needed.

  34

  Doc

  I'd read the email from Vega five times. Leif was Platt. I'd thought I was safe. Avoided all the places he'd frequented in our time together, kept myself to the strip unless my job required me to venture out. I sat at my desk with my chin cupped in my upraised hands. The panic built at a steady pace, just as it had all those years ago.

  “Baby, turn on the news,” Carter said as he ran through the automatic doors sideways when they wouldn't open fast enough. I clicked on the small TV on my desk, and it was a shot of the courthouse, and Gladys stood behind a podium.

  I was lifted out of my chair and placed on Daddies lap as he sat down. Gladys looked professional and more than a little pissed off. We'd received a message that she was getting ready to file on the basis of incompetence.

  * * *

  “We’ll be keeping this short. I’m Attorney Gladys Kauffman. Over two decades ago, a travesty of justice happened within the walls behind me. Three innocent women were strong-armed into admitting to guilt to crimes that were woefully investigated by the Winston Harbor Police. The incompetence of their previous representation sickened me. Today, with new evidence in hand, I filed for retrials for Harriet Marx, Linda Farrier, and Donna Lowell for the charges of first-degree murder. There was no concrete evidence that my clients, loving mothers, had anything to do with the disappearance or deaths of their children. My team and I will not rest until these mistakes are remedied, and my clients walk free. I call on District Attorney Graves and Judge Castor to respond to my demands for new hearings. They've failed to do so, and until they do, I will be their loudest advocate. I’ll take questions for a few minutes.?”