Page 12 of Facing the Enemy
SAC Dunkin chuckled. “Between the job and my teenagers, what do you think?”
“Single life has its benefits. I’m sure Jack agrees.”
Jack pumped his fist. “Don’t think I’ll ever settle down. Never met a woman who admired both my handsome face and brains.”
“Try registering at a dating service that specializes in desperate women,” I said.
Jack grinned, all bulldog of him. “When I do find a woman, she will idolize my many talents.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
“I had a date just last week.” Jack lifted his chin.
“Where did you take her?” I could only imagine.
“Brazos Bend State Park.”
“In the blazing heat?”
He frowned. “I should have taken her to the wolf sanctuary. She had this little dog that got loose.”
“Had? An alligator got it?”
“Yeah. She called a friend to come and get her. Not happy with me.” Jack brightened. “So I’ll wait a week until she gets over losing the dog, then ask her out again.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. “Jack, you need a dating tutor.”
“Wasn’t all my fault. She insisted on carrying the dog instead of putting it on a leash. She claimed he was her emotional support.”
The SAC added another ten pounds to a barbell. “I agree with Gage. You need help with women. By the way, you two closed a tough case last week. The odds were against finding the little girl alive. Congratulations.” He raised the barbell over his head. “Gage, have you heard from Risa?”
Did he have a clue of my misery? I’d moped around like an ego-centered kid. “No, sir. She took her brother’s death hard. Destroyed her confidence as an agent.”
“She made a wise decision to resign. Her concern of endangering the lives of others spoke highly of her integrity,” he said.
“I’m sure she’s an asset to the college system.” I felt like I’d made a job recommendation.
The SAC’s phone rang, and Jack and I moved to the treadmills. “My apologies for my lousy attitude,” I said.
Jack started his machine at a fast walk. “No problem. I’m a poor replacement for an ex-partner who breaks communication.”
At least he didn’t say a woman or mention the rumor about Risa resigning because we were in a relationship. “Appreciate it. Punch me when I’m out of line.” I set my speed at eight and incline at seven, ready to sweat off the frustration and get my head in the game.
SAC Dunkin approached us. “I’ve got an update on the missing Addington baby. Meet me in my office in ten.”
In the elevator, Jack and I kept our conversation to choosing a restaurant instead of the questions rolling through our minds about the upcoming briefing. One did not discuss a case outside the boundaries of a secure area.
My mind scrolled through the work done over the past five days on the missing six-week-old baby. CARD had immediately jumped in on the investigation. We all worked with the police, National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, behavioral analysis units, and other agencies and search teams who specialized in missing children. None of us had found a clue—yet. On the evening of the kidnapping, the parents went to dinner, leaving the baby with the maternalgrandmother. She put the baby down for the night, and when she checked thirty minutes later, the baby was gone. The kidnapper gained entrance through a first-story window.
As of the day after the kidnapping, the parents, family, and close friends had been interviewed and cleared. Neighbors were questioned and nothing seemed suspicious. No communication from the kidnappers and no ransom note. All who worked crimes against children stayed on task, an emotionally charged commitment. If a child wasn’t recovered and pronounced safe, many of us took the loss personally. Risa and I had shared tears more than once over the atrocities done against the helpless. I believed children were our most valuable treasure, and they deserved to be protected. I recalled an FBI director referring to finding missing kids as “holy.” I agreed.
In the current case, a noncustodial parent didn’t fit the crime. The most barbaric were those who held a child for ransom, and those victims seldom returned to their homes alive. My concern and many of the others in the investigation. Whatever the fate of the Addingtons’ baby, the heartache had left scars on the parents, and I knew exactly how they felt. Made this case hard to work.
Behind closed doors in a square office, Jack and I sat across from SAC Dunkin. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves holding volumes of biographies, history, politics, and various sports showed his eclectic interests. On his credenza perched vacation family pics from deep in the heart of an African jungle to salmon fishing in Alaska.
The SAC folded his hands on his desk and gave us eye contact. “We received a call from the FBI Des Moines office. A hospital there has identified the Addingtons’ baby, admitted by a couple who claimed to have adopted him. Yesterday the adoptive parents rushed the baby to a Des Moines hospital for breathing problems. ER doctors suspected CF, ran tests, and administered treatment. The hospital contacted the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation registry, found the baby’s records, and discovered the abduction. The kidnappers must not have known about his health issues, or they didn’t care.”
I digested the update. At birth, when the baby tested positive for cystic fibrosis, the parents underwent DNA testing to find out if theycarried the gene. The testing was documented in national medical records. “How is he doing?”
