Dying for Love by Rita Herron Page A

take back.
    That no one could love him if they knew the truth about him.
    Maybe that was the reason he’d joined the Bureau. He was making an effort to atone for his transgressions.
    “Thank you for doing this, John,” Amelia said as he approached her.
    He gave a clipped nod. “You don’t want a friend or family member with you?”
    “I don’t exactly have a lot of friends,” she admitted. “The only family I have left is Sadie, and I don’t intend to upset her with my problems.”
    Her love for her sister stirred his admiration. Not that he understood family dynamics.
    He didn’t even remember if he had a family. Where were his parents? Were they alive? How had he grown up? In a happy home?
    No . . . somehow he knew he hadn’t . . .
    Neither had Amelia. Although, even with her dissociative identity disorder, she still had a sister who cared for her.
    Somehow he knew he didn’t. That he was alone in the world. That he deserved to be alone.
    Shovels sounded as they hit dirt. The wind tossed dried flowers from another grave across his feet. Twigs snapped and broke, raining down across the tombstones. The wind whistled a ghostly sound as if to say the dead below did not like to be disturbed.
    The hearse was waiting to transfer the remains to the morgue for an autopsy. They would have to confirm the identity of the infant inside, whether or not it was Amelia’s child, and the cause of death.
    If there was foul play, a full-fledged investigation would be ordered. Amelia would want answers.
    Hell, she deserved answers.
    Only she might not like what she learned.

    He studied the foster home from his vantage point where he’d parked on the street, searching for the best way to get inside. His phone buzzed, a startling sound in the quiet of the storm. His second-in-command.
    He hoped to hell the man was following orders.
    “What happened to that Devon kid?”
    A Honda rolled by, and he ducked low so the driver wouldn’t see him.
    “He tried to escape. We moved him to the rehabilitation facility for further training.”
    That was the last step. The kid’s last chance.
    “Buried a guard, though. Asshole tried to help the kid get away. We had to make an example of him.”
    His breath rushed out in the harsh night. “I understand.”
    “If Zack doesn’t conform soon, we’ll move him as well.”
    “Fine. But remember, he’s hands off.”
    “Of course.” A hesitation. “Did you find a replacement for the Wesley boy?”
    Excitement of the hunt sparked inside him, and he rubbed his injured leg where it throbbed. “I’m working on it now. Will be in touch.”
    Still, caution made him hold off. It was dangerous to snatch another kid so soon. But he had his calling. And so did the Brotherhood.
     

Chapter Six

    T he graveyard stood amid the woods, eerie and dark. Ghostly shadows floated between the bare trees, the images shimmering against the white snow.
    Cemeteries always reminded Amelia of the loved ones she’d lost.
    She could practically hear the cries of the dead in the shrill wind. See the gruesome skeletal bones reaching up through the dirt begging to be saved.
    See her tiny baby’s remains lying on the satin . . .
    John placed his hand at the small of her back. “Perhaps you should step away while we open it, Amelia. You might not want to see this.”
    A cold sweat raged over her body, but she steeled her back and shook her head. “No, do it.” She would face whatever they found. She’d have to.
    John gave them the signal. Snow and ice fell away from the coffin as they opened it.
    Amelia’s breath caught, a chill skating up her spine.
    Only a teddy bear lay inside, macabre-looking against the blue satin pillow where it had been locked away beneath the ground, forgotten and unmourned, as was the little boy who was supposedly inside.
    The teddy bear was clean though, well preserved, almost as if it had been purchased new before being placed inside.
    As if someone had wanted to honor the baby it