Stolen Child (Coastal Fury Book 13) by Matt Lincoln (top books to read txt) 📕

was some kind of lead that had materialized to justify pulling us out of bed just three hours after we got there.

“Jackson showed up,” she said simply, and I blinked at her.

“What do you mean showed up?” I asked. “He just came here of his own volition?”

“Seems like it,” the psychologist confirmed with a nod. “He wasn’t here, and then he was. None of the detectives seemed to be able to find him. We’re lucky he came when he did.”

“Well, if he just showed up here, that has to mean he didn’t have anything to do with it, right?” Holm asked. “I mean, what perp would walk right into a police station if he wasn’t turning himself in? Wait, he wasn’t turning himself in, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t,” Osborne said, shaking her head. “Which makes me think that you might be right, and he didn’t take Mikey after all.”

Her mouth was set in a thin line as if she didn’t like this at all. I could see why. If Jackson didn’t take the boy, that meant that someone else did. Someone who could be far more of a danger to Mikey in the short and long term.

“It’s not unheard of for perps to needle themselves into an investigation in a case like this, though,” Nina considered. “It’s unusual for a familial abduction case, but not unheard of. We shouldn’t rule anything out just yet.”

“Agreed,” Osborne said, nodding to her. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to him much yet, so I don’t have a great read on him at this point. He’s waiting in an interrogation room for you.”

“What did he say when he got here?” Holm asked.

“I wasn’t out here, but the detectives said he just walked into the station and started demanding to hear all the details about the investigation,” Osborne said. “He’s kind of a nervous nelly, though, so he lost his confidence pretty quick. By the time they came and got me, he was stuttering everything he said. Still kept asking about the boy and the investigation, though.”

I sighed. This didn’t tell us much. Sure, these could be the words and actions of a concerned father, but they could also be those of a nervous, regretful perp.

“Have the parents seen him yet?” I asked. “The other parents, I mean.”

“No,” Osborne said, shaking her head. “I thought it would upset them more, and I didn’t want to put them together until we’d questioned him first. I’d like to question the parents some more, too. Perhaps one of you could join me?”

There was a period of silence as all three of us said nothing. Everyone wanted to get the first crack at Jackson.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Holm said at last, though he didn’t exactly sound happy about it. “I wouldn’t want to break up the party.”

He winked at Nina and me and then began to follow Osborne down the hall past the interrogation rooms and toward the lounge area, where I assumed the parents were still waiting.

“He’s in the third room on the left,” Osborne called back to us.

“Thanks,” Nina said, waving to her in thanks.

“Alright, let’s do this thing,” I said, stopping in front of the appropriate room, which had a one-way window on it revealing a nervous-looking man in his thirties, tapping his foot expectantly on the floor and fidgeting with the zipper of his thin blue jacket.

Nina and I entered the room and took our seats across from the man at the interrogation table. He jumped at the sound of the door, and his eyes followed us all the way there. Neither of us spoke until we were seated.

“Jackson Moore?” Nina asked him, and he nodded vigorously to match his knee bobbing up and down from all the nervous tapping. “I’m Agent Nina Gosse with the FBI, and this is my colleague Ethan Marston with MBLIS. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

“Wh-where’s my son?” the man stammered, looking between us expectantly.

Nina and I exchanged a look.

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to find out, Jackson,” Nina told him, folding her hands in front of her on the table and peering right at him.

“Y-you don’t know where he is?” Jackson asked, his eyes widening and his hands spreading flat against the table, hard so that I could see the whites of his knuckles.

“No, we don’t,” I said, studying him closely. “That’s what we’re doing here.”

“Well, what are you doing talking to me for? Go find him!” Jackson cried, spreading his arms wide and motioning for us to leave him there and go look for Mikey.

Nina and I exchanged a look. A perp trying to learn about the investigation probably wouldn’t make that suggestion, instead wanting us to stay behind and unwittingly reveal details of the investigation to him, wasting our energy not looking for the missing boy at the same time. That said, it was possible that Jackson was still the perp and just panicking about having to talk to us. More than possible, judging by his nervous body language.

“We have people who are doing that, and they’re not going to stop anytime soon,” Nina assured him. “For the time being, why don’t the three of us have a little chat?”

“About what?” Jackson asked, looking between us wildly. Then, something resembling realization seemed to dawn on him. “Wait, you don’t think it was me, do you?”

“Well, it is often a family member or acquaintance who takes a child in these situations,” I explained carefully, exchanging another look with Nina and seeing that she also had an inkling that this man might just be genuine. “And there is a custody disagreement taking place, according to the boy’s parents…”

“I’m his parent!” Jackson cried. “And I’m no acquaintance. I’ve never even met my son. They wouldn’t let me.”

I sighed and ran a hand across my face. It was far too early in the morning, and I was operating on far too little sleep to mediate such a complicated family drama. But I supposed that this was what