Page 39 of Haunted By Sin

“We’ve attempted to locate Shane, but we can’t seem to find an address for him. We’re hoping that he remembers someone or maybe even recalls a conversation that might help us in our investigation.”

“Ms. Deering, I haven’t seen my son in years.” Fred visibly swallowed as he wrapped his hand around the disposable cup. Once he was in control of his emotions, he continued speaking. “Shane dropped out of college, started living on the streets, and he cut all ties with me and his mother. We tried getting him help, but…”

Sylvie couldn’t imagine dedicating her life to helping children, only to lose her own child. She wasn’t sure what had prompted Shane to leave behind college, his friends, or his family. Observing Fred’s body language, she wasn’t sure that even he understood where it had all gone wrong.

“I wish I could help you, but as I already stated, I did my best to place children where I thought they stood the best chance of making it to their eighteenth birthday. The truth? I didn’t like Sheila Wallace. No one working in this office was fond of the woman, but she never physically abused the kids placed in her home.”

Sylvie’s stomach churned at the way Fred attempted to assuage his choices. His small speech spoke to his knowledge of neglect. It was clear from his words that he had placed older children in Wallace’s care who he thought could handle such mental and emotional abuse.

Fred glanced down at his desk. She caught his slight hesitation when he reached for her business card. He was withholding information from her. This moment was the first time since she sat down that she had hope for a break in the case.

“It will take me a couple of days to gather the requested files,” Fred said reluctantly as he tucked her card into his keyboard so that it was facing him. There was something in his mannerisms that suggested he was about to divulge an important detail. It didn’t help that the fluorescent lights caused his features to appear rigid. “As you read through the records, you need to remember that teenagers embellish facts…make accusations. I would like to reiterate that I did my due diligence on Sheila Wallace’s home and discovered nothing that would suggest she physically abused those children placed in her home.”

Sylvie barely managed to contain the spark of anger that originated upon hearing his statement. He was suggesting that one or more of the teens placed in Wallace’s home suggested otherwise. Had they mentioned something damning in their interviews, only to then be ignored?

“Mr. Dawkins, whose file will I discover such accusations?”

“Mitch Swilling.”

Sylvie thought back to Mitch’s reaction to her line of questioning. He had been the one to suggest that Wallace’s home hadn’t been ideal, but he had implied it had been better than most. When she had purposefully brought up Fred Dawkins, Mitch’s bitterness had been undeniable. Something had transpired between them, and the details were in those files.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brooklyn Sloane

May 2024

Monday — 10:37 am

“I uploaded the footage from the van,” Bit said as he reached for another donut out of the opened box. “I’ve been over it twice, and I’ve separated the individuals who are regulars at the Crestlake Bar & Grill. Nothing stands out, though.”

Brook narrowed her gaze on the box until she was confident Bit hadn’t taken the last chocolate donut. She should have known that he would take the raspberry jelly one since those were his favorite.

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I might go back to Mary Jane’s neighborhood to canvas the neighborhood once more. Our unsub is still looking for an opportunity to reach her without being caught. If the unsub is under the impression that Janice Morris’ death was simply collateral damage, there is a good chance that he’ll try the same method again…especially if he believes law enforcement won’t double back and ensure the safety of the community.”

Patrol cars were not going to be enough to deter someone like their killer. His patience was unlimited, and he wouldn’t be prevented from monitoring his target, regardless that law enforcement was breathing down his neck. He would do everything in his power to outsmart those hunting him.

“I thought the local police were doing welfare checks every day.” Bit had already eaten half his donut. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the powdered sugar that remained on his upper lip. “Speaking of welfare checks, Big T checked in when you were in the kitchen. He stopped in at every shelter in Ann Arbor. Shane Dawkins hasn’t been seen in years. Oh, and the warrant Big T submitted for additional hospital security footage came through, but only for the elevator banks that have access to the ICU. Big T is at the hospital now.”

Brook turned back to face the portable monitor, her hands wrapped around a porcelain mug. The warmth from her freshly brewed coffee seeped into her palms.

“I’ve read the update from the local police department, but I’d feel more comfortable checking on those neighbors myself.”

Brook took a moment to study their handiwork on the screen. She and Bit had spent the morning segregating the software program to include three branches of the investigation—Sheila Wallace, Reggie Hollins, and those involved with the transplant team.

“What about Sylvie?” Brook asked as she stepped forward and pressed on a specific file. Mitch Swilling’s picture appeared, taken from the last time he renewed his driver's license. “I know that she was attempting to locate Swilling, but did she go with Theo to the hospital?”

“Little T is currently pulling up to Andrea Simpson’s residence.” Bit had everyone’s location at his fingertips based on their phone’s GPS. “Sylvie mentioned that Andrea has been in touch with Mitch, so she should know where he has been staying while in town. I was of no help to Little T, because the man doesn’t have an online presence.”

The melody that usually alerted them to an incoming call came from one of the laptops. Brook wasn’t surprised to find the blue eyes of a kitten suddenly staring back at her. The white kitten reached out to tap Arden’s phone with her paw, causing Bit to converse with the furball in a high-pitched tone.

“Look at you. Look at those blue eyes. You are so—”

“Sylvie’s here, Arden.”

The phone bobbled and eventually fell with a thud. Brook turned to find Bit standing on the other side of the table with his mouth open. She shrugged, fighting a smile as she lifted the rim of her coffee cup to her lips.

“Gumshoe, that’s not true! Little T is in Ann Arbor.”