Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"That's possible," Shadow says, looking at Kincaid.
"We could start the new program direction there," Slick says. "We wouldn't have to wait, but I think they'll need to have some time alone before going into a shared room situation."
"I agree," Kincaid says. "We'll get all of that together, and I think after we've vetted the women who have applied recently, we can have it all together at least for Juniper House. Any issues or concerns?"
Kincaid looks around the room, making eye contact with all of us as if trying to evaluate anything anyone might now want to say.
He stands to his full height once he's done looking around the room.
"This isn't the only thing we had to discuss," he says. "Prepare yourself. This is graphic."
When he nods at Max, the screen behind him fills with images of a body, charred from being set on fire.
"She's a Jane Doe," Max says. "Found two towns over. The police can't even identify her, but there have been no missing persons reports filed in the last two weeks in a hundred-mile radius."
"Any evidence to speak of?" Hound asks.
"She had no clothing. Autopsy is pending," Max says. "This is all they found as far as personal effects."
The screen fills with a single image of a bracelet.
I stare at the thing, wishing I could identify it, but it's not familiar to me at all. The chances of identifying anyone, especially someone found several towns over with a bracelet, seem impossible. If we can't identify the victim, what are the chances we can identify the perpetrator?
"Fuck," Harley growls.
All eyes in the room turn to him.
"You recognize it?" Kincaid asks.
The man is trembling as he nods.
"That woman is Traci Valdez. She had that bracelet on her left wrist when I took her to the bus station."
Silence fills the room. Slick presses her hand to her mouth as if it's the only way to keep from sobbing.
"Where are the babies?" Signal asks.
Several members shift in their seats.
I've faced some horrible shit in my life, and this is going to end up right at the top.
My throat is dry, my hands clenched into fists on the top of the conference room table.
"Max," Kincaid growls.
"Working on it," the man assures him as his fingers work at lightning speed over his keyboard.
The images on his computer play out on the screen at the front of the room.
First, the video of Traci getting out of Harley's SUV, him helping her with her luggage, and waiting with her until she gets on the bus. It pulls away from the station, and Max continues.
"We have this," Max says.
An audio recording of a 911 call fills the room, explaining that there was a woman in labor shortly after that bus made its second stop in town to pick up passengers.
"There's no video," Max says. "It happened after they left the bus stop. Farmington police, fire, and an ambulance responded. She was transported to the hospital here in town."
"Colton didn't tell us she had gone into labor?" Dominic asks, sounding a little annoyed and possibly feeling betrayed by his son-in-law.
"I doubt he would know anything about it," Kincaid tells his brother. "It wasn’t a criminal act."
"We weren't tracking Traci?" Hound asks.
"She didn't want to be," Kincaid answers. "We were respecting her wishes."
"Could it have been Whitmore?" Slick asks.
"Anything is possible," Max says. "Checking the hospital records now."
We wait, but it only takes him a few minutes to find the next puzzle piece.
"False labor," Max says. "But she left before they could go over the discharge paperwork."
"Video?" Kincaid asks.
"Just this," Max says, and we once again turn our attention to the screen.
We all watch as a nurse wheels Traci out of the hospital. They take the sidewalk toward the open parking area. The woman helps Traci get into the back seat of a car, but instead of returning to the hospital with the wheelchair, she leaves it in the parking lot and climbs into the front seat. It drives out of the lot.
Max moves from one camera to the next, cussing when he pauses one and zooms in on the sedan, revealing it doesn't have a front or back license plate.
"Fuck," Shadow grunts.
"Double fuck," Max growls as the screen fills with an autopsy report. "They were supposed to fucking call me."
"What are we looking at?" Shadow asks.
"The initial autopsy doesn't mention children, but there was a large incision on her abdomen," Max explains. "Holy shit."
"What?" Shadow asks.
"Her organs were gone," Max answers. "Kidneys, liver, heart, lungs, pancreas."
"She was gutted?" I asked, none of this making any fucking sense to me.
"Harvested," Signal says, drawing everyone's attention. As a military surgeon, he'd know more about this sort of thing than anyone else in the room. He keeps his eyes on Max. "Surgical removal?"
"Yeah. It looks that way according to the report."
"So the goal was to take the babies, but they ran into complications and just took everything viable?" Shadow asks.