Page 116 of Risky Passion

Parker tilted his head, frowning. “Alice Turnur? Now that’s a name I know. She’s one ofmymissing person’s cases.”

“Yep, sounds about right,” Ryder said with a humorless laugh. “She was arrested last year after she shot Thomas Wexler. That was an accident, by the way. But someone took Alice from the hospital before she was released to face charges.”

“Just like Grant Hughes was kidnapped from the hospital,” Whitney chimed in, glancing around the room.

“What if we assume Beatrice took GrantandAlice Turnur, too?” Parker said, his tone growing serious. “She had to take a big risk doing that, so Alice must have meant something to her.”

“What if the fresh body near the fountain is Alice Turnur?” Whitney’s eyes widened as an idea seemed to click into place. “Her age would line up, wouldn’t it? And she was buried with some dignity. That has to mean something.”

The room fell into silence, everyone mulling over the possibility.

“Could be,” Cobra finally said. “If that bodyisAlice, that might explain why Beatrice went to so much trouble to retrieve her from the hospital.”

“Let’s keep going through this stuff,” Ryder said, his jaw tightening. “We have so much to go through and we’ve only scratched the surface.”

Everyone returned to their seats, and I flipped back through Thomas Wexler’s folder. The photos were endless. More shots of Thomas, along with images of other kids. No names, no details, just sad faces and poor living conditions.

Yasmin swept in, balancing a tray of steaming mugs. The rich scent of coffee filled the room. She made her way to Cobra, who plucked his SuperNerd mug from the tray before stealing a kiss.

"Making progress?" she asked, eyeing the scattered papers.

"Baby steps. Mountains of stuff left to dig through, though." His hand found her hip, pulling her close. "Could use those eagle eyes of yours. You always catch what we miss."

"That’s because you boys charge through everything like bulls in a china shop." She twisted away with a laugh, placing the tray on the table between the rest of us. "Coffee's here. Sugar and milk if you need it."

The group descended on the caffeine like it was salvation.

Yasmin grabbed a box and settled across from me, her eyes softening with concern. "You holding up okay?"

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, breathing in the steam. "I am now."

I shuffled through more papers that made no sense and paused on a medical record. The grainy photograph attached to the yellowed paper showed a little boy’s back, mottled with bruises. My breath caught, and I winced as I imagined the boy’s bruises were from a beating. The report was handwritten, dated June 16th, 1980.

Four more medical records followed, each one incomplete but horrifying in its own way. The diagnoses scrawled across them were chilling: Malnutrition. Broken bones. Burns.

Jesus. This kid was tortured.

I spread the records out on the table, comparing them side by side. One thing jumped out—every single one was signed by the same doctor: Dr. Bryon Baldock.

I jotted his name down on my notepad and broke the silence. “Has anyone heard of Bryon Baldock?”

“Me,” Parker said, his head snapping up.

“And me,” Whisper added, her voice sharp.

Parker leaned forward, his expression darkening. “He’s an old missing person’s file. The case went cold decades ago.” He glanced at Whisper. “What’ve you got?”

Whisper rummaged through the stack of papers next to her box and pulled out a small black pocketbook. She flicked throughthe pages, mumbling as she scanned them. “I saw that name in here . . . ah, here it is.” Her finger jabbed at the page. “It’s some kind of ledger. There’s a date, his name, and an amount of $80.”

I explained the four medical records I’d just found, my voice tight with anger.

“Jesus,” Whisper muttered. “You don’t think they were paying him to cover up the kids’ injuries, do you?”

“I’d say that’s exactly what they were doing,” Cobra said grimly as his expression twisted with disgust.

An impossible heaviness settled on my chest. “Maybe that bastard got what he deserved.”

“He would have if Beatrice got to him.” Whitney scowled. “I’ve seen her in action.

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