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  “Did, too!”

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

  Miss Sheridan took Sara Beth by the arm and pulled her aside. She knelt, until her face was even with Sara Beth’s. “What seems to be your problem? I heard you were acting up in class again today.”

  “Is anything wrong?” Miss Wilder, Sara Beth’s kindergarten teacher, came up behind Miss Sheridan.

  The director turned and said sharply, “Everything is under control, Miss Wilder. Perhaps you should tend to the rest of your students.”

  A brief frown touched Miss Wilder’s features, then she glanced down and gave Sara Beth a soft smile before returning to the other students.

  The way Miss Sheridan spoke to Miss Wilder made Sara Beth angry. Miss Wilder was her favorite teacher. She was young and pretty and she wore blue jeans and funny T-shirts to school. Sometimes she sat with Sara Beth at recess and told her stories about when she was a little kid. About being lonely. Sara Beth wasn’t sure she understood everything Miss Wilder talked about, but the time they spent together always made her feel good inside. Made her forget about all the fights her daddy and mama had been having lately.

  “Don’t fidget while I’m trying to talk to you,” Miss Sheridan warned when Sara Beth strained to catch a glimpse of the younger teacher. But Miss Wilder had already gone back inside.

  “Sara Beth,” Miss Sheridan said in a low voice. She glanced around, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her. “Do you know what happens to bad little girls who misbehave in school?”

  Sara Beth shook her head, although she did know. Your daddy got called, and then your daddy got mad…

  “They get taken away. Just like Emily Campbell.” Sara Beth’s eyes darted to Miss Sheridan’s. For a moment, Sara Beth thought she’d heard her wrong, but there was a funny look on the woman’s face, a tiny smile on her lips.

  Sara Beth’s heart began to pound in fear. Emily Campbell had got taken and she was a good little girl. She never acted up in class. If Emily got taken, what chance did Sara Beth have?

  Miss Sheridan leaned toward her. “You don’t want to end up like poor little Emily, do you?”

  Sara Beth shook her head.

  “All right. Go get back in line and see if you can behave yourself until someone comes to pick you up. It’s Wednesday, so you’ll be the last one here, I expect.”

  She was right. Sara Beth didn’t see her daddy’s car until long after everyone else had gone home. She and Miss Sheridan were the only ones remaining on the sidewalk.

  And even then, it was Miss Plimpton who came for her and not her daddy. Sara Beth didn’t know whether to be glad or upset. Miss Plimpton worked for Sara Beth’s daddy, but she was also his girlfriend and she didn’t like children, at least not Sara Beth, although she tried very hard not to show it around Sara Beth’s daddy.

  Miss Sheridan took Sara Beth’s hand and led her over to the car. “I’m Lois Sheridan, the school director,” she told Miss Plimpton. “I know you’re on the list of people authorized to pick up Sara Beth, but I’ll have to see some identification anyway. After that terrible tragedy on Monday, we can’t be too careful.”

  Miss Plimpton nodded and reached into her purse.

  She held up a card for Miss Sheridan to check. “Such an awful thing. Has there been any word?”

  “None. It seems the poor child vanished without a trace.” Miss Sheridan flashed Sara Beth a knowing glance, as if to say, You’re next, Sara Beth Brodie, you bad, bad little girl.

  “Well, I hope she’s found soon,” Miss Plimpton said in a soft tone. “I can’t imagine what the child’s poor parents must be going through.”

  “It’s just her mother. There’s no father around.” Miss Sheridan’s voice lowered, the way it had when she’d talked to Sara Beth. Her mouth got all thin looking. “They live on the east side of town, out near the highway. Not really the sort of background we encourage at Fairhaven….” She trailed off, glancing at Sara Beth again.

  “I see.” Miss Plimpton drummed her red fingernails on the steering wheel. “Well, I’d better get Sara Beth over to her father. I’m sure he’s anxious to see the little darling.” She smiled over her shoulder at Sara Beth, but the dark glasses she wore hid her eyes.

  They drove away from the school, and Miss Plimpton turned on the radio. There was a man talking about Emily Campbell and how she’d gotten kidnapped. How the police were still out looking for her. Miss Plimpton switched the station to one with music and started humming along with the song.

  After a few moments, she pulled into a parking lot. “I have to run into the drugstore and get a prescription filled, Sara Beth. I can’t leave you in the car, so you’ll have to come inside with me. You behave yourself, you hear me? You start acting up like you did last time, and I’ll tell your daddy on you.”

  “Can I get ice cream?”

  “And have it melt all over Curtis’s new car? I don’t think so.”

  They climbed out of the car, but Miss Plimpton didn’t take Sara Beth’s hand the way Mama always did. She let Sara Beth trail along behind her.

  It was hot outside, but the drugstore was cool and dim. Kind of like a cave, Sara Beth thought. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

  “You can go look at the coloring books if you promise not to wander off,” Miss Plimpton said. She headed toward the back of the store.

  Sara Beth found the rack and stood gazing up at the coloring books. Oh, goody, she thought happily. They had Blue’s Clues. She was so tired of all that Pokemon stuff.

  The door opened and someone came inside, but Sara Beth didn’t look around. She reached for the coloring book with the little blue puppy dog on the front.

  “Sara Beth.”

  Her name was called softly, and Sara Beth glanced over her shoulder. Miss Plimpton was nowhere in sight.

  “Sara Beth, over here.”

  There was something about that voice—

  Sara Beth looked around for Miss Plimpton again. She even started to call out, but a hand clamped over her mouth. She was jerked off her feet, and before she even had time to struggle, she was whisked toward the front door.

  “It’s okay,” the voice said in her ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Sara Beth didn’t believe that voice. She began to squirm and kick, but the arm around her middle only tightened.

  As they went out the door, Sara Beth glanced back. She couldn’t see Miss Plimpton anywhere.

  Outside, the hand eased off Sara Beth’s mouth, and she let out a loud, piercing, “Mama!”

  The voice in her ear cursed. The hand came back over her mouth.

  “Don’t do that! I said I wouldn’t hurt you. If you want to see your mama, you better be quiet.”

  They rushed over to a car parked in front of the drugstore. The back door was jerked open, and Sara Beth was flung inside. She slid across the seat and tried to open the other door, but it was locked. She couldn’t get out!

  Within seconds they were driving out of the parking lot.

  Sara Beth’s heart beat so fast she could hardly breathe. She wanted to get out of the car, but it was moving too fast. She didn’t know what to do.

  The person in the front seat wore a cap and dark glasses. Sara Beth had thought she knew that person at first, but now she wasn’t so sure. What if a stranger had taken her?

  She got up on her knees and looked out the rear window. From a distance, she saw Miss Plimpton come out of the store and gaze around the parking lot. Sara Beth beat on the glass, and for a moment, she thought Miss Plimpton had seen her. But she mustn’t have, because she turned and walked back inside the store.

  Sara Beth slid down in the seat and hugged her knees tightly. She was really scared now, and for a moment, all she could think about was the way Emily Campbell’s mama had cried so hard that day at school when she found out Emily had been taken.

  Sara Beth’s mama would cry, too. She’d cry and cry and cry, and the thought of that, more than anything else, made Sara Beth star
t to sob.

  Chapter Two

  Thursday

  Abby sat in the sheriff’s office the next day, waiting for him to arrive. She was bone-deep weary from a nearly sleepless seventy-two hours, and frustrated and heartsick over two investigations that appeared to be going nowhere. No trace of either child had turned up despite a full-scale search, and no evidence had been found at either crime scene. Dozens of leads were being pursued, but so far, nothing concrete had turned up.

  Both cases were now being treated as abductions, and the local authorities had requested assistance from the FBI. An agent from the resident agency in Oxford had arrived late yesterday afternoon, just hours after Sara Beth Brodie had been reported missing, and another agent was due to arrive later today from the field office in Jackson.

  A task force had been assembled, headed by the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department and supported by the FBI and the Mississippi Highway Patrol Crime Investigation Bureau.

  Abby had been assigned to the Brodie case, although she’d asked to be put on the Campbell case. Naomi had been right yesterday when she’d said that Emily’s disappearance on the anniversary of Sadie’s abduction was the first break they’d had in ten years. Sadie’s case file had already been pulled and the information fed into the computer for analysis and comparisons.

  But it was Abby’s own theory that had gotten her removed from the Campbell case. She didn’t believe, as almost everyone else seemed to, that they were dealing with only one suspect in the two recent abductions. Although ten years apart, the similarities between Sadie and Emily’s disappearances were striking, but Sara Beth Brodie’s abduction broke the pattern.

  “You may be on to something,” Sheriff Mooney had told her. “I want you to pursue the Brodie case from that angle, but you’ll have to coordinate your investigation with the task force. And it goes without saying that all information will be shared.”

  The glass door of the office opened, and Sheriff Mooney walked in. When he saw Abby, he nodded. “Good, you’re already here. That’ll save us some time.”

  He was followed into the office by a man Abby had never seen before. The stranger was tall, dark, but far more dangerous-looking than handsome. In spite of the August heat, which could be brutal in Mississippi, he wore a navy suit, starched white shirt, and conservative tie. Abby immediately pegged him for the fed from Jackson they’d been expecting.

  Even apart from his attire, he had the look of an FBI agent. His posture was ramrod straight, his demeanor tense, his senses on full alert. He was probably in his early forties, with dark hair and a deeply lined face that bespoke too many years of long hours, bad cases, and maybe just plain bad luck.

  When he trained his gray eyes on Abby, a slight chill rippled through her. In her five years in law enforcement, she’d never encountered a colder gaze.

  Sheriff Mooney lumbered around his desk and sat down heavily in a leather chair that squealed ominously beneath his bulk. “Abby, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Sam Burke. Abby—Sergeant Cross—is a detective in our Criminal Investigations Division.”

  Abby rose and extended her hand. “Special Agent Burke.”

  The man nodded in her direction, but barely took the time to shake her hand before turning back to the sheriff. But in that moment when their eyes met, in that second when his hand touched hers, the chill inside Abby deepened. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at her, about the way she reacted to the feel of his hand against hers.

  Special Agent Sam Burke was a very dangerous man, Abby thought. In more ways than one.

  “Have a seat.” Sheriff Mooney leaned back in his own chair to observe Burke with unveiled curiosity. “We weren’t expecting you until late this evening.”

  “I caught an early flight,” the agent explained, waiting for Abby to sit before he lowered himself into the chair across from Sheriff Mooney’s desk. But even seated, he didn’t relax. Every muscle in his body appeared coiled and taut.

  Sheriff Mooney frowned. “You flew up from Jackson?”

  “I flew in to Memphis from Washington, then rented a car and drove down.”

  “Washington?” Both Sheriff Mooney and Abby stared at Agent Burke in surprise. “We were expecting someone from the Jackson office. Didn’t realize FBI Headquarters paid that much attention to the goings-on down here in our fair state.”

  “Didn’t you?” Sam Burke’s gaze never wavered from the sheriff’s face. “I seem to recall the Bureau was pretty active down here back in the sixties.”

  A little dig, Abby thought, to put them in their place.

  It was apparent from his attitude that Special Agent Burke considered them a bunch of incompetent hicks. Abby doubted that even her degrees in psychology and criminology from Ole Miss would convince him otherwise. Her dander was thoroughly ruffled by the man’s demeanor, but Sheriff Mooney seemed to take it all in stride. But then, he would. It wasn’t his style to worry about the opinion of some self-inflated federal agent.

  If you only went by appearances, it would be easy to underestimate Fred Mooney. He was on the back side of fifty, seventy pounds overweight, and his uniform generally consisted of a faded golf shirt—he had them in every color—that stretched tightly over his gut and didn’t always quite meet the low-riding waistband of his trousers. His hair was always rumpled, as if he constantly ran his fingers through it, and his passion—aside from fishing—was his grandchildren, which he talked about incessantly. He had dozens of their pictures displayed on the wall behind his desk, along with an autographed photo of Elvis Presley and a recent snapshot taken with Senator Trent Lott.

  The office, like the man who occupied it, was a bit of a mess, and Abby could only imagine the impression both made on Special Agent Burke. But Abby had never met a law-enforcement officer she respected or admired more than Fred Mooney. He knew how to handle the media, too, which had descended in droves since Sara Beth’s disappearance. Abby would match the sheriff’s savvy against anyone’s, including one arrogant FBI agent she could name.

  “Wherever you’re from, we’re glad to have you.” Sheriff Mooney clasped his hands over his middle. “We can sure use the help. We’ve got two missing kids, and I don’t mind telling you, we don’t have any solid leads. One of the little girls has been gone for nearly seventy-two hours, the other almost twenty-four hours. Time is working against us here.”

  He was right, Abby thought grimly. Time was the enemy in abductions.

  “They’re both five years old, white, no distinguishing marks or disfigurements,” he continued. “They were in the same kindergarten class at Fairhaven Academy, a private school on the north side of town. We think the school is the connection.”

  “It’s a natural assumption,” Agent Burke agreed with a curt nod. “But assumptions can be a dangerous thing. What about witnesses?”

  “None so far, although we keep going back, interviewing anyone we can think of who might have been in the area at the time. We’re also running a background check on all school personnel, including the director, Lois Sheridan, and the girls’ teacher, Vickie Wilder. Lois Sheridan was the director ten years ago when the first abduction took place.”

  “First abduction?”

  Again Abby and Sheriff Mooney regarded the agent in surprise. “You don’t know about the first one? We sent a fairly lengthy fax to the Jackson office. They didn’t brief you?” the sheriff asked.

  “I haven’t had a chance to do more than glance at the report,” Agent Burke said tersely. “Why don’t you two bring me up to speed? Later, I’ll want to have a look at the case files. All three, if the first abduction seems pertinent.”

  “Oh, I’d say it’s pertinent, all right.” Sheriff Mooney shot Abby a glance. “Emily Campbell disappeared from the playground at Fairhaven Academy ten years to the day that Sadie Cross was abducted.”

  “What about the third child? Sara Beth Brodie.” Abby had been watching the agent’s face closely, and she thought she detected a tightening of his featu
res, a darkening in his eyes when he mentioned Sara Beth. But perhaps that was just her imagination. The man was already about as tense as he could get and had been since the moment he walked through the door. Abby had a feeling the austerity was normal for him.

  “Abby?” She almost jumped when Sheriff Mooney said her name. She’d let her mind drift from the conversation, and now she realized they were waiting for her to speak, but she had no idea what the question had been.

  Great, she thought dryly. Nothing like first impressions.

  Her gaze met Sam Burke’s, and she thought she could discern a flicker of disdain in those icy gray depths.

  “Why don’t you tell Agent Burke your theory?” Sheriff Mooney prompted.

  “Shouldn’t Lieutenant Conyers be in on this meeting?” she asked, referring to the lead detective on the Emily Campbell case.

  “Should be, but he’s not.” Sheriff Mooney glanced at his watch and scowled. Dave Conyers wasn’t known around the department for his promptness, nor for his consideration of others. If he’d missed a meeting called by the sheriff, it could be that he was following a hot lead. Or it could be he’d decided to stop off and have a cold beer. You never knew with Dave. “We don’t have time to wait for him,” the sheriff grumbled. “Go ahead and give Special Agent Burke your thoughts on both cases.”

  Abby’s gaze moved reluctantly back to the agent. “I agree the school seems to be the obvious connection, but I’m not convinced the same suspect perpetrated all three crimes.”

  Sam Burke lifted a dark brow. “Why not?”

  “Partly it’s just a gut feeling,” Abby admitted, bracing herself for the agent’s condescension. “I agree with Sheriff Mooney that the disappearances are connected—maybe by the school, maybe in some other way—but that doesn’t mean we’re looking for only one suspect.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. Agent Burke’s gaze, so intense, was a little unnerving. “Emily Campbell was taken from the playground at Fairhaven on the tenth anniversary of Sadie’s disappearance. That can’t be a coincidence. Same school, same playground, almost the same time of day. The physical characteristics of the girls are also similar. Dark hair, brown eyes.”