Bitter Waters by Wen Spencer Page B

treehouse at his moms’ farm.
    So he locked the doors as Indigo carried Kittanning upstairs to the nursery and settled him into his crib. She met Ukiah in his bedroom, baby monitor in hand. Usually she locked his bedroom door; this time he did. She handed him her suit jacket, and as he hung it up, she stripped off her gun and shoulder holster.
    â€œYou’ve grown some more,” she whispered as she ran hands over the hard muscles of his abdomen. Her fingernails were painted the same warm white of her necklace, each nail carefully rounded and neat, they gleamed like pearls on his dusky skin. Under her blouse was a silky camisole and white lace bra—delicate things that graced her body like pieces of jewelry. They went slow, rediscovering each other, savoring the reunion.
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    â€œIt’s ten after twelve,” he said, gazing over her shoulder at the clock beside his bed. Max had said three, but he might be back earlier.
    â€œHmmm,” she said without uncoiling from his embrace. “Ishould start to get ready. I don’t want to go, though. It’s going to be heinous, cutting a baby up like that, and why? Mostly for evidence at the trial, where we play games at justice.”
    So he held her as she talked.
    â€œShe had these wounds all over her. The coroner said that they looked like electrical burns, like you get from a Taser. The thought of an adult using something like that, over and over again, on a child barely able to walk, a baby they stole away just to kill—I can’t find any way to distance myself from my rage.”
    â€œIs it such a bad thing, to be angry?” he asked, because he could see no way to prevent such a natural thing. He had not seen the photos of the missing child, handled the abused body, spoken to the grieving parents, or faced the grim autopsy, and yet he still felt anger.
    â€œI don’t want to give such monsters that control over me, to make me angry, or scared, or anything. I will choose what I feel.”
    â€œCan’t you choose to be angry?”
    â€œIf I let myself be angry, then when I find the people responsible and have my gun trained on them, it might be my anger that chooses to pull the trigger.” She slid out of bed. “Fighting the Ontongard has loosened a demon in me. Killing came so easy, since they were nothing more than walking dead, to shoot without feeling.”
    There was fear now in her voice, fear of herself. He got up to wrap his arms around her and kiss her bare shoulder blade. “You know the difference, and you won’t kill out of anger.”
    â€œHow can you know, when I don’t know for sure myself?”
    â€œI have this long memory, now, of human nature. You’re a very strong-willed person. People like you might fear how they react, but when the time comes, they do the right thing.”
    â€œYou trust me so much.”
    â€œI trust you because I know you. Even the Pack recognizes your strength.”
    â€œI love you,” she whispered. “And I’m going to be late if I don’t start moving.”
    â€œDo you really have to go to the autopsy?”
    â€œIf I go, I’ll be there to answer questions for the coroner,and not have to wait for his report. There are three other children still missing.”
    â€œAll the same kidnapper?” he asked.
    â€œWe’re reasonably sure. The MO is the same.” She ticked through the points as she did a quick wash in his bathroom. “The kidnapper walks in and takes the child before anyone can react. We’re looking for at least two people working as a team, maybe more. Witnesses have verified that the kidnappers are not family members or close friends. All the children were in the foster care system and there haven’t been any ransom demands.”
    â€œThey just take the child? No one tries to stop them?”
    â€œThe kidnappers seem to monitor the house and strike when the caretaker is distracted;