door swung open and he lost no time in
picking up the lid. Nothing. Brenda crowded in behind him. He heard her sigh of
disappointment.
The third stall yielded the same results. Either the kidnapper was playing them, or the
photograph was in the middle stall.
Dax tried the door again. It didn't budge.
"I can crawl under it," Brenda volunteered.
But he waved her behind him. "Stay back." Bracing himself, he lunged at the door, applying his shoulder to it. The door flew open as pain shot through his body. He paid no attention
to it.
Brenda pushed passed him. Holding her breath, she gingerly lifted the lid from the tank
and turned it over. She wasn't sure what she was going to do if there was nothing there.
But there was.
"Oh, thank God."
There was an instant photograph of Annie taped to the underside of the lid. It was
wrapped in a plastic bag. Dax lost no time in removing it.
Standing on her toes, Brenda looked around Dax's shoulder at the photograph. Annie was
sitting on a bed in a bedroom that looked like a thousand other bedrooms. Brenda could
feel her heart tightening in her chest.Poor baby."She looks scared."
He thought of the photographs Brenda had shown him of the girl in her album. "But none
the worse for her ordeal." The little girl was holding up this morning's newspaper. That
meant that as of this morning, she was still alive. Something caught his eye. He looked
closer. "I didn't realize she wore glasses."
"She just recently got them," Brenda told him. She remembered how insecure Annie had
been, afraid that the other children would call her cruel names. Brenda had sat with her,
mentioning other people who wore glasses as children, people who had gone on to make an
impression in history. "She's nearsighted." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, isn't that something reflected in her glasses?"
It was what had caught his attention. "Looks like it, but it's hardly more than a speck."
Excitement began to build inside of her again. They had something, she could work with.
"You'd be surprised at what you can see in a speck."
He made his own deductions from the tone of her voice. "Can you make this any clearer?"
"Odds are pretty good." But everything she needed was back at the academy. "I'm going to need to cross the yellow tape again. The school's got all the state of the art software,"
she reminded him.
That had been her excuse for crossing the restricted lines yesterday. He was far from
computer savvy and had no idea what they had at the precinct. He knew one thing, though.
The techs wouldn't let him hover and look over their shoulders. Brenda would. She had no
choice. "C'mon, let's go."
Walking out into the dining area, Dax stopped to glance at the menu. The same girl was
behind the counter, still looking eager to serve them.
He turned to Brenda. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Burnt toast."
He thought of the huge breakfasts his Uncle Andrew liked to prepare. On any given day,
there was anywhere from five to twenty people sharing the meal with him. He'd purchased
a specially made table just to accommodate everyone. The funny thing was, like the Greek
fable, Uncle Andrew never seemed to run out of food. There was always more.
He knew his uncle would have been horrified at what he was about to do. "Let me get
something to go for us, it looks like it might be a long morning."
Her stomach rumbled in response. "Fries, see if they have fries ready yet."
He looked at her dubiously. "For breakfast?"
She had a craving, but she didn't want to call it that. It was far too much of a giveaway.
"I've always liked fries."
Actually, so had he. Dax grinned and nodded. "Okay, fries it is."
He turned toward the girl behind the counter and placed their order.
Chapter 8
«^»
Dax flipped his cell phone closed, ending the call he'd placed to Nathan. The lab was still
attempting to clean up the audio tape. Stripping away the layers of synthesized
interference took time. So
picking up the lid. Nothing. Brenda crowded in behind him. He heard her sigh of
disappointment.
The third stall yielded the same results. Either the kidnapper was playing them, or the
photograph was in the middle stall.
Dax tried the door again. It didn't budge.
"I can crawl under it," Brenda volunteered.
But he waved her behind him. "Stay back." Bracing himself, he lunged at the door, applying his shoulder to it. The door flew open as pain shot through his body. He paid no attention
to it.
Brenda pushed passed him. Holding her breath, she gingerly lifted the lid from the tank
and turned it over. She wasn't sure what she was going to do if there was nothing there.
But there was.
"Oh, thank God."
There was an instant photograph of Annie taped to the underside of the lid. It was
wrapped in a plastic bag. Dax lost no time in removing it.
Standing on her toes, Brenda looked around Dax's shoulder at the photograph. Annie was
sitting on a bed in a bedroom that looked like a thousand other bedrooms. Brenda could
feel her heart tightening in her chest.Poor baby."She looks scared."
He thought of the photographs Brenda had shown him of the girl in her album. "But none
the worse for her ordeal." The little girl was holding up this morning's newspaper. That
meant that as of this morning, she was still alive. Something caught his eye. He looked
closer. "I didn't realize she wore glasses."
"She just recently got them," Brenda told him. She remembered how insecure Annie had
been, afraid that the other children would call her cruel names. Brenda had sat with her,
mentioning other people who wore glasses as children, people who had gone on to make an
impression in history. "She's nearsighted." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, isn't that something reflected in her glasses?"
It was what had caught his attention. "Looks like it, but it's hardly more than a speck."
Excitement began to build inside of her again. They had something, she could work with.
"You'd be surprised at what you can see in a speck."
He made his own deductions from the tone of her voice. "Can you make this any clearer?"
"Odds are pretty good." But everything she needed was back at the academy. "I'm going to need to cross the yellow tape again. The school's got all the state of the art software,"
she reminded him.
That had been her excuse for crossing the restricted lines yesterday. He was far from
computer savvy and had no idea what they had at the precinct. He knew one thing, though.
The techs wouldn't let him hover and look over their shoulders. Brenda would. She had no
choice. "C'mon, let's go."
Walking out into the dining area, Dax stopped to glance at the menu. The same girl was
behind the counter, still looking eager to serve them.
He turned to Brenda. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Burnt toast."
He thought of the huge breakfasts his Uncle Andrew liked to prepare. On any given day,
there was anywhere from five to twenty people sharing the meal with him. He'd purchased
a specially made table just to accommodate everyone. The funny thing was, like the Greek
fable, Uncle Andrew never seemed to run out of food. There was always more.
He knew his uncle would have been horrified at what he was about to do. "Let me get
something to go for us, it looks like it might be a long morning."
Her stomach rumbled in response. "Fries, see if they have fries ready yet."
He looked at her dubiously. "For breakfast?"
She had a craving, but she didn't want to call it that. It was far too much of a giveaway.
"I've always liked fries."
Actually, so had he. Dax grinned and nodded. "Okay, fries it is."
He turned toward the girl behind the counter and placed their order.
Chapter 8
«^»
Dax flipped his cell phone closed, ending the call he'd placed to Nathan. The lab was still
attempting to clean up the audio tape. Stripping away the layers of synthesized
interference took time. So
Similar Books
