Pale Wings Protecting Read online

  “So are we just waiting on this detective’s arrival and then the show can start?”

  “Lake said she was coming in on the ten a.m. flight. She’s being picked up by one of our agents and brought straight here.” Blythe’s attention went back to the file in her hand. “I think she’s compiled one hell of a case here.”

  “While you’ve been looking over that file I’ve been checking into the woman who compiled it. From what I can glean from the cases she’s been involved with, she’s got an amazing success rate in locating lost kids.”

  “But?”

  “But she’s got a reputation of being a bit of a Spooky Mulder.” Trace grimaced at Blythe’s look. “I’m not kidding. The woman is classified as a little odd. We’re not talking tarot cards or talking in tongues here, but she’s renowned for pulling weird ass rabbits out of stalled cases hats.”

  “So she’s good at investigating.” Blythe wondered why she felt the need to stand up for someone she hadn’t even met yet.

  “It’s more than that. She sees things others never even think to look for. She’s either clairvoyant or has some other kind of crazy magic mojo working for her. I just thought you should be forewarned, Scully.”

  “Thank you, I think.” Blythe was beginning to wonder what the hell she was getting herself into with this investigation.

  Trace straightened in her chair. “Oh my God. If that is the detective you’ve got to go play house with, then, honey,” she drawled, “Spooky or not, you’re going to be living the dream of every lesbian out there.”

  Blythe’s head lifted to follow Trace’s line of sight. Her eyes were drawn to the woman walking alongside Agent Lake.

  “Well, would you look at that, Stretch? She’s got to be even taller than you are.”

  “At least five feet eleven,” Blythe guessed. Tall, broad shouldered, solidly built. Blythe’s mind raced through all the details as if she were compiling a profile.

  “Her hair is so blond it’s almost white. Jesus, you two are going to complement each other so well. You with your dark hair and her with the blond. I bet with her skin tone she’ll burn like a beacon when blushing…or aroused,” Trace added slyly.

  “It’s work, Trace. We’re not being set up on an interdepartmental date.” Blythe was drawn to the woman’s strong features. She was handsome but not overly masculine. A gentle smile curved her lips, and Blythe liked the way it lightened an otherwise serious face.

  “Well, she out-butches me,” Trace muttered.

  “I’d say you have more tattoos,” Blythe said. She studied the woman, taking in everything from her confident walk to the cut of her hair. The pale blond hair was pulled back from her face in a short ponytail.

  “What are you thinking, Blythe?” Trace asked quietly.

  Blythe tore her eyes away from the newcomer and glanced at Trace. “I’m thinking she’s incredibly attractive and I really can’t afford the distraction while we’re working.”

  “But you’ve got to make nice with her. You’re going to be playing the role of lovers. A little attraction wouldn’t hurt to make the kissing go a little easier.”

  Blythe shivered at the delicious thought of kissing this woman. “Maybe I should just meet her first before I jump aboard.”

  “Perhaps you’ll luck out and she has some goddamn awful accent that grates on your ears and sets your teeth on edge.”

  Blythe laughed with her.

  “She is handsome though,” Trace said. “I’m glad my Emma isn’t here. She has a weakness for big, tall butch girls.”

  Blythe let out a shaky breath. She’s not the only one.

  *

  Daryl had left her overcoat in Lake’s office and was taking off her suit jacket as she followed him toward the conference room. Damn suits make me feel like I’m going to a funeral. She tugged at her shirt and hoped she still looked professional and presentable after her flight. Lake opened the door for her and she preceded him, heading to the top of the table to lay down her briefcase and begin rolling up her sleeves. She looked up to find two people already in the room blatantly staring at her. She flushed and saw the smaller one lean into the other to whisper something that sounded like I told you.

  Her breath stilled somewhere in her chest when she caught the gaze of the other woman. She paused and stared back. She is beautiful. The woman had hair so black it shone with an unnatural blue, like the darkest night touched by the faint kiss of moonlight. It fell in wild curls that brushed at her shoulders. She was slender in build but curved in all the right places. Daryl tried not to be too obvious when her eyes lowered to the cleavage just glimpsed behind the confines of a severely tailored jacket and stark white blouse. Brown eyes the color of rich chocolate studied her with an unabashed intensity, and the smile that curved rich full lips made all thought of why Daryl was there slip from her mind. The stillness of the room was only broken when two other agents came walking in and closed the door behind them loudly.

  “Okay, now we’re all here. This is Detective Daryl Chandler from Vermont’s PD. Daryl, these are Agents Tim Browning and Julian Caldow.” Both gave Daryl firm handshakes.

  Lake continued his introductions. “This is our technical analyst, Trace Wagner. Her team works to make sure we have all the information we need when we need it. She’s also one of the brains behind the data units that our teams now employ.”

  Daryl smiled at her, recognizing another lesbian in the room. She cast only a cursory glance at Trace’s wheelchair; she was far more intrigued by the woman seated in it.

  “You’re the one I sent all my data to,” Daryl said.

  Trace nodded, looking surprised that Daryl had remembered her. “I’ve set it all up for your presentation just like you requested.”

  “Thank you.” Daryl wondered what policies at the DDU were being flaunted by all the tattoos Trace displayed on her bare arms. She decided she liked her; there was always room for a little rebelliousness in the world.

  “And this is Special Agent Blythe Kent.”

  Daryl moved closer to shake Blythe’s hand. The feel of her hand made Daryl’s breath hitch in her chest. Blythe’s hand was soft yet strong, her fingers long and tapered. Small calluses told of a woman who used a gun. Daryl liked the touch of the rough edges as they wrapped around her larger hand. She wondered if Blythe could feel the same worn areas on her own skin. She smiled at her. “Thank you for considering partnering with me on this assignment.”

  “It would be a fascinating case if it weren’t so disturbing,” Blythe said.

  Daryl had to force herself to release Blythe’s hand. She could still feel the lingering warmth when she closed her fingers to capture the touch inside her palm. She enjoyed Blythe’s voice, rich in tone with just the hint of an accent that she couldn’t quite place. It added a soft drawl to her words. Daryl knew her own clipped way of talking was considered harsh to some, but it gave her words an authoritative edge that she intended to use now to her advantage in the midst of the esteemed DDU. She cast Trace a look and held up a remote. At Trace’s nod, Daryl switched on the screen to start her presentation.

  “Thank you all for agreeing to see me. Let me get straight to why I’m here. Two years ago, a young woman went to her local police department. She said her baby boy had been taken from her.” Daryl moved to the head of the table but made sure everyone could see the screen. “Carol Malone was a single woman, struggling to make ends meet. The local PD couldn’t find anything to go on, and the case went cold. Eventually, her case and the others I have here found their way to me, and I began looking into them. You’ll no doubt come to hear that I have an affinity for cases involving children. I get requests to look into cases from anywhere and everywhere. New and cold cases.” Daryl continued on with barely a pause, not wanting to linger on those facts and invite unwanted questions. “I interviewed Carol, her family, and the folks where she lived. Her neighbors were firmly of the belief the father had come and taken the baby away. He had only been at the apartment a few time
s, but they’d all heard him shouting on one occasion that he’d take the child from her if she couldn’t look after him right.”

  “Did anyone check up on him?” Browning asked.

  “The police did initially and then I did. I found him living the white picket fenced dream with his wife and three kids and not being all that cooperative to talk while his wife was around. He didn’t have the child, didn’t want the child, and admitted he’d made a big deal of it with Carol to try, in his exact words, ‘to get her the hell off his back.’ He’d been trying to scare her into leaving him alone for child support payments. It worked. She stopped all contact with him for fear he’d take the child away like he threatened. Carol had lost her job just a few months into her pregnancy so life had started to get very hard. She was just a woman getting ready to raise a child with what limited resources she could muster on her own.”

  “Some guys don’t deserve to procreate,” Caldow said, scribbling something down on a pad.

  Daryl brought up a picture of the little boy, barely a day old. “Knowing she was going to be a single parent, Carol had managed to get some help while she’d been at the hospital for her checkups. The maternity units run a support system for mothers to be, they call it Baby Aid. You get help for the first few months if you’re struggling financially. It’s a great scheme that really helps, and Carol thought it was the answer to her prayers. She got food tokens and money toward baby clothes and support from the ones who run the group. While she’d been there, one of the women had taken her under her wing. This Good Samaritan, one Mary Parks, snuck Carol extra tokens to help her out. After Carol gave birth, Mary was there again offering to baby-sit anytime to give her a break. Carol trusted her. She had no reason not to. Mary had asked if Carol had considered giving the child away. She’d asked numerous times before the child was born, but Carol just told her no, she wanted to keep the baby. The woman was kind; Carol never thought anything of it. She just figured she was playing devil’s advocate, letting Carol know there were other options available.”

  Daryl brought up a picture of Carol’s apartment and a picture of the baby’s room. “This is where two-day-old Matthew Malone was snatched. Taken from his crib, from his bedroom, right next to the room his mother was sleeping in, and she never heard a sound.”

  “So maybe this Mary came right on inside and took him?” Blythe said. “You’d let a friend have a key to your place if they baby-sat your child.”

  “Carol gave me a description of Mary. She was medium height, blond hair, had dark tinted lenses in her glasses.”

  “Handy disguise,” Lake said. “Did you check out all the staff at the hospital?”

  Daryl nodded. “No one of that description worked there, and no one of that name was listed as a Baby Aid helper. I spent some time down there and was surprised by how many people wander the corridors of the maternity wing and no one pays any attention. If you look the part and act the part, you can blend in with all the bustle and no one would question your right to be there.” Daryl brought up another picture. “Then something similar happened, just a few months after. Josie Jones, a single mother, was approached to see if she would consider giving her child up for adoption. Again, a Good Samaritan helped her settle in with the new baby and then, within a few days, the child was gone. Baby Heather Jones also disappeared from her own crib.”

  Daryl brought up a set of baby photos. “In total, there have been five kidnappings that I have been alerted to, spread out over the space of three years.” She brought up the picture of each child taken. Daryl then switched to another set of photos. “There are two hospitals linked to the mothers giving birth there, two support stations, and the city has three legitimate adoption agencies. One of which has a nice record of adopting out to gay couples. The other two I still want to check into just in case there’s another factor involved. The hospitals have to be checked out. I didn’t have the manpower by myself, and the agencies won’t divulge anything because of confidentiality. The trail runs colder than an arctic breeze whenever I try to follow it through conventional detecting. But I really feel this is where the investigation lies. Call it a hunch; you’ll find I have a lot of them.” She looked over at Blythe with a wry smile. “And that’s when I came up with the idea to go in undercover to find out from the inside how these agencies work and what they might do to get a child for a couple that needs one so bad.”

  “It could be someone outside of the agencies running their own adoption ring.” Browning cast a look at his partner. “Caldow and I had to bust up a child-selling ring before we were drafted to the DDU. Nasty business, babies to order.”

  “Glad for your experience, guys. I’m going to need it all. I have some thoughts about what might be happening here.” She saw Blythe shift in her chair. “I know theories aren’t facts, but I’ve put a great deal of time and effort into these kidnappings.” She brought up a photo on the screen of a city block. “Welcome to suburbia. This is Cranston Heights, a strong community of the wealthy demographic who can afford anything and everything they desire. In this self-contained hub there are a huge amount of children, born to both straight couples and a healthy number of gay and lesbian couples.”

  “Utopia in Connecticut. Who’d ever believe it?” Trace muttered.

  Daryl spared her a grin. “The Heights are perfectly situated in the geographic profile for this case. It’s also perfectly placed for the hospitals and the agencies. Meanwhile, the children being snatched are on the edges of the ring and in the more lower class areas that skirt the more affluent Heights and surrounding wealth. But everything centers round the Heights.”

  Blythe frowned, her eyes never moving from Daryl’s face. “What are you getting at?”

  Daryl had saved her best information until last. She knew everything hinged on her being correct in this assumption. She took a deep breath before answering.

  “I believe I know the exact whereabouts of two of the missing children.”

  Chapter Three

  Intuitive. That’s what Daryl’s mother had called her and had never allowed her to be afraid of what she could do and sense. Her father had been more apprehensive though, fearing his child had turned psychic overnight at the tender age of twelve. But Daryl saw no spirits of the dead, nor received messages from the great beyond. She just somehow instinctively knew where lost children were to be found. And it was only ever children; she couldn’t use her ability to find anything or anyone else.

  To her distress, the children weren’t always found alive, but her mind could focus in and pinpoint on a map the exact area the children were. It had led her to solving child abduction cases from her father’s desk when she was still in school. The other policemen merely looked on her ability as that of her being the daughter of a cop and following in her father’s footsteps. They had known her from birth. Anything strange or unnatural about what she could do was never discussed. She was simply the sergeant’s daughter, and she always found the missing children. Her father’s men would have closed ranks around her to protect her had anyone said anything against her.

  Soon, the cases of lost children always fell on Sergeant Chandler’s desk, and he just set them aside for when Daryl came in from school and she could look them over. When the time came for her to begin her own police training, she was extremely cautious as to how much of her talent she revealed. She tried to temper her Intuitive state through the police academy and worked to find more tangible proof to add to what she instinctively knew. It made her a better recruit and, in time, an excellent detective.

  She relied on both her policing skills and her Intuitive state to solve the mysteries. Daryl had never told anyone but her mother what exactly happened to her when she was forced to focus and the heavy weight of her gift pressed down on her. In that moment, she felt overwhelmed and almost crushed by something she could never explain. Her mother had said she was tasked with the weight of the world balanced on her shoulders. Daryl hadn’t always seen it as the blessing her mother had conside
red it to be. It set her apart, made her different, and sometimes brought into question how serious she could be taken in her job. But Daryl used her talent to protect and serve. It was the code she lived her life by.

  *

  The conference room was deathly silent after her announcement, then erupted into everyone asking questions at once. Lake put his hand up to quiet everybody down.

  “Daryl, you never said anything about two in our phone call.” His tone of voice was just a shade shy of accusatory.

  Daryl knew he was aware that her picking Cranston Heights was not about just sticking a pin in a map; she knew they were there. What was infuriating Daryl was the fact she couldn’t find all five of the children she had files on. At least, not yet. She’d told Lake she knew of one child’s whereabouts. Now she was certain she could add to that number.

  “I don’t have any way of actually proving it unless I’m in the Heights and can gain access to the children themselves. If I go in as a cop, I’m going to blow whatever chances I have of finding the person behind the kidnappings. No amount of investigating has brought up anything further. We’re hitting a blind spot there.”

  “How certain are you about the children?” Blythe asked.

  Daryl brought up a set of photos of children playing at a daycare center. She pointed to a small child half hidden behind another. “I think this child is Heather Jones, but I really need a clearer shot for absolute proof.” She brought up the next photo and pointed to the child in the center of the screen. “However, I believe this is Matthew Malone. When he was born, he had a very distinct birthmark on his head, one that would be hidden when his hair grew.” She enlarged the photo. “Guess his new mommies like their little boy to look like a proper little boy and cut his hair to within an inch of its life.” A dark-shaped birthmark was plainly visible in the child’s hairline. She brought up a photograph of a baby with the same shaped mark. “This is a picture of Matthew Malone before he was taken. I’m sure you’ll agree the marks are incredibly similar.”