Page 24 of Chasing a Kidnapper

Frustrated, she rose and paced the room. Maybe she needed to go back to the beginning. Seth wasn’t the masked kidnapper—his physical characteristics from the photos she’d seen online didn’t match that of the man who’d slammed her to the ground and grabbed the stroller.

What was she missing? What key? Not the gym locker key, but a key to something else?

She found herself making the rounds from window to window again, as her thoughts whirled. At the window overlooking the street where the dog walker and biker had been earlier, she took note of a black Ford sedan. It caught her attention because it was moving so slow, almost as if the driver was lost.

Or looking for someone.

She pressed herself back against the wall to avoid being seen. When the car rolled past, she quickly memorized the license plate number, then hurried over to jot it down on the notepad near the computer.

Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. It was smart to drive slow through a neighborhood where kids could be outside playing. The owner could be looking for a lost pet.

Still, that didn’t stop her from pulling up the DMV database and accessing it with her patrol officer credentials. The car was registered to a woman by the name of Renee Mills.

It didn’t sound familiar. When she checked that name in the criminal database, nothing popped.

Frustrated, she rose to her feet and returned to the window. This time, she didn’t see anything unusual. When Gabriel started to cry, she quickly turned away to tend to her son.

“Shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.” She lifted the baby into her arms and paced the room. Then froze, as she heard a muffled thumping sound near the back door.

Someone was trying to get inside! She quickly set Gabriel back down and tucked the car seat behind one of the living room chairs. Then she reached for her weapon and silently moved toward the door.

The knob jiggled. Remembering how the perp had used lock picks to get into her house, made her realize he was trying to do the same thing now. With an abrupt move, she grabbed the door handle and wrenched the door open.

“Police!” She peered around the corner to see the masked intruder was already running away. “Stop! Police!” Unable to leave Gabriel alone, she was forced to watch helplessly as the perp disappeared around the corner.

Battling a wave of frustration, she closed and locked the door, then pulled out her phone to request an officer response.

“I need back up to this location and for you to run this plate number.” She rattled off the information.

“Trish, that vehicle has recently been reported as stolen,” the dispatcher informed her. “I’m sending a squad ASAP.”

A stolen vehicle and another attempt to get to her son. She didn’t like how this was going. Not one little bit.

SEVEN

West glanced at Gracie Fitzpatrick when Peanut alerted in the storage room of the pizzeria. It was no surprise, as he’d witnessed the crates being removed from the storage area and placed in the van.

“Should we check these boxes?” Gracie asked with a frown. Her Belgian Malinois, Bane, was sitting at her side, his nose sniffing the air. West knew Bane would take off after a perp with speed and agility and wished he’d had Bane with him when he’d chased the kidnapper.

The first box held paper supplies. The next contained various spices. The third held cans of parmesan cheese.

“I don’t understand,” Henry Anderson said from the doorway. The middle-aged owner of the pizzeria appeared distressed. “I would never condone having guns in here.”

“Mr. Anderson, do all of your employees have access to this room?” West asked, as he continued checking boxes. The rest of the pizzeria had been clean. No alerts from Peanut or Bane. Although Bane’s specialty was in finding people more than items.

“Yes, of course. I mean, sometimes we run out of things like napkins and cheese. You know, items that the customers might need.”

“Would you be willing to give us a list of all your employees, including those who have left in the past year?” West asked. His phone rang, but he let it go to voicemail. “Is this room always kept locked?”

“I’ll give you a list of employees past and present,” Henry agreed without hesitation. “No, I generally don’t keep this room locked. It’s not like there’s anything of value in here.”

West tried not to sigh. If that was the case, anyone who’d bothered to case the joint could have been using the room as a hiding spot without the owners being any wiser. Still, he hoped Petey’s accomplice had been an employee. At this point, both Henry and his wife, Martha, needed to stay on the suspect list, too.

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Gracie said.

West’s phone rang again. He pulled it from his pocket, his heart squeezing in his chest when he saw Trish’s name on the screen. “Hey, Trish, what’s going on?”

“The masked intruder tried to get into the house through the back door. He took off running and I couldn’t leave Gabriel to follow him. Just before that, I noticed a black Ford sedan driving by. I had dispatch run the plates, they verified it was reported stolen. We’re fine, I have PCPD officers on scene, but I need a different place to stay.”

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