Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

training room, how I’d been stabbed in the leg, and that I’d shot Scud but didn’t think he was dead. Vince said Clement was alone at the drop zone when the ambulance arrived. He walked over to me and raised my pant leg as if he had every right to do so. The fabric around my calf was stained dark red. I hadn’t realized my bandage had bled through. Vince peeled back the sticky gauze and the wound brightened with a fresh surge of blood.
    “You should have this looked at,” he said, kneeling behind me.
    “Nasty.” Jeannie shuddered. “He’s right.”
    “Scud did that?” David was pale, his face sweaty. Maybe the facts were beginning to settle in his mind. I couldn’t bring myself to add that Scud—Edward Kosh—was Trish’s Other Man. But the thought reminded me of something.
    “David, do you have a computer?” I asked.
    He gestured toward the hall. “In my study.”
    I removed the saturated gauze from my leg and dropped it in David’s kitchen trash. He passed me some paper towels for my leg.
    “Mind booting up your machine?” I asked. “I’d like to know the IP address of your cable router.”
    I hobbled behind as David led us to his study.
    “Why?” he asked, but didn’t argue.
    He powered up the computer and waited for it to go through its self-checks.
    The desktop icons appeared and I told David where to get the information I wanted. He hunted and pecked at his keyboard and finally a string of numbers came up.
    “Richard, do you have that information from CPS?”
    The call had come in during our drive from his office. Richard rooted in his pocket and produced a scrap of paper. He read off numbers as the rest of us leaned toward the monitor. The digits matched.
    “What’s that mean?” David asked.
    “Did you ever give Trish your system password?”
    He shook his head. I wasn’t surprised. Someone as resourceful as Trish could get it herself. I imagined her coming up behind David as he worked, wrapping her arms around him in the same warm hug I’d seen in the rigger’s loft. All she’d have to do is watch his painfully slow typing as he logged in.
    I faced David. “Sometimes when you were in the field, someone logged onto this machine as you. Other times, when you were logged in at work, a dual log-in occurred from this machine.”
    Vince asked, “Are you saying Trish logged into David’s work account as him?”
    I nodded. “David, you’ve been having trouble locating some families.”
    He didn’t answer, but I could tell by the way his eyes bored into mine that I had his full attention.
    “Richard looked into it. Those families were all lower priority cases.” I nodded at his computer. “If Trish knew you wouldn’t get to those babies for a few days, she could get them first.” I hesitated. “At work they think you’re discriminating based on race. Many prospective ‘buyers’ want white babies, so Trish targets white families.”
    David stared at me like only half of my words were getting through.
    “I think she takes the babies and, when necessary, makes the parents disappear,” Richard said.
    “Records simply show another deadbeat parent skipped town with their kid,” I added. “No kidnapping report, no homicide investigation. Her relationship with you was a gold mine.”
    It was hard to remember as we spouted our theories that this was the first David had heard of Trish’s crimes. The poor sap was in love with her. He’d clearly been blindsided.
    I didn’t get the same vibe from Vince. David swam in disbelief, but Vince looked to be seething with rage. I just wasn’t sure where that anger was directed.
    Richard scanned the room. “Does Trish keep many personal things here? Files on your computer? A notebook? PDA? We know which cities some kids were moved to, but not their addresses.”
    All I could think about was Galveston. Four years had passed. Was Annette still there?
    “Is it okay if we look around?” Richard asked, too late for Jeannie. She’d opened the closet door and was already inspecting the shelves inside. David seemed too distracted to take offense. He nodded, crestfallen.
    I wanted a break. “I’m going out for some air.”
    I retraced my path to the living room, opened the door, and only made it as far as the front landing. My leg hurt too much to go down any more stairs than I had to. I looked down. The jump rope was gone, probably picked up and carried inside by a little girl who still lived with the right family.
    The door opened