Page 103 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“I bet.”

“I ended up going back to the hotel shortly after. On my way through the lobby, a Carter Island brochure caught my eye. At first I walked past it, but I turned around and grabbed it. When I got back to my room I read through it several times. There was something about the pictures and mentions of the history that instantly drew me to it.” She stroked her fingers along his smooth chest. “I couldn’t work after that. The panic attacks started and my career began falling apart. Something about seeing that woman really messed me up.”

“I’m sorry, Callie.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I picked up that Carter Island brochure in the months following, reading it from cover to cover, scrutinizing the pictures. After a couple of really bad days in September, I called Mini at Carter Island Realty and Rentals, then Enterprise directly after. I couldn’t get here fast enough.”

He smiled. “I’m so glad you came.”

She returned his smile. “Me too.” She picked up the picture again, studying the grinning child—the way the woman cuddled her. “They look happy—like she loves her little girl. Why would she abandon her?”

“I don’t know.” He took the picture from her and sat up, bringing her with him before he slid his knuckles along her jaw and held her gaze. “But we’re going to do what we can to find out.” He captured her lips, kissing her gently, tenderly.

She held on to his wrists, letting herself get lost in him—in something and someone who made complete sense. She had no idea what the next few days or weeks would bring, but she knew she could count on Nate to be right there with her.

~~~~

Nate sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen in the dark. He’d been up for hours, too restless and disturbed to sleep, so he was working instead. He rolled his tense shoulders as he picked up the picture from the library, studying the image of the little girl holding a balloon on a long-ago summer day, then examined it next to the four-year-old smiling with her adoptive family. Callie had wanted to know if he thought the girl in the Fourth of July photo was her. The resemblance between the two children was uncanny, but he refused to say yes and get her hopes up until all of the facts were in.

Sighing, he scrutinized the beautiful blond woman who appeared happy—as if she adored the child she held in her arms. So why would she have left her alone at a diner in the middle of the night? He set the photo down and wrote “financial problems? domestic abuse? foul play?” and “drug habit?” on a piece of paper, then added “Carter Island” and “Hartford, Connecticut” to the list. He had plenty of questions, and he planned to get his answers, but the first step was confirming that the child in the picture was indeed Callie May Surname Unknown—a ball he’d started rolling when Paul Wiserman agreed to forward the pictures to his contact in the Forensic Services Unit and possibly another at the Biometric Center of Excellence.

Scrubbing at his jaw, he clicked to another screen and hit the replay button of the old ABC World News Tonight segment he’d found. He leaned back in his seat, watching the little blond girl in her pediatric johnny and pink socks holding a dolly while she sat on a cheap plastic chair.

“What’s your name, honey?” a female officer asked on the intake video.

“Callie,” she answered quietly.

“Do you know your middle name?”

The little girl nodded.

“What is it?”

“May.”

“What about your last name?”

Callie shook her head.

“How old are you?”

Callie held up four fingers.

“How many is that?”

“Four.”

“Do you know where you live?”

She nodded.

“Where?”

“In my house.”

“Do you know where that is?”

She shook her head.