Buried Innocence - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery - Book Thirteen (Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series) (6 page)

Mary sat at a small
desk in the corner of Bradley’s office typing on the keyboard connected to a
dedicated computer system that accessed the law enforcement databases available
to the Freeport Police department. Finally, she sighed with frustration. “I
can’t believe there is no record out there,” Mary said, pushing herself away
from the desk and computer screen. “A child doesn’t simply disappear and have
no one report her. Someone has to know.”

Bradley looked up
from the reports he was filling out at his desk. “No missing persons report?”
he asked.

She shook her head.
“No missing persons, no hospital reports, no DCFS reports,” she said. “It’s
like she never existed.”

He leaned back in
his chair and tucked his hands behind his head, contemplating the situation for
a moment. Finally, he sat forward and met Mary’s eyes. “A couple of months ago,
I received a memo about a situation in Wisconsin where a child was re-homed.”

Mary shook her
head. “Re-homed? What’s that?”

“It’s basically a
practice where someone puts an adopted child up for adoption again,” Bradley
said. “But the adoptive parents use social networking to find new parents; they
don’t go through an agency.”

“Wait. They give
their child away like you would give away a puppy?” Mary asked, shocked.

Nodding, Bradley
reached over and typed on his keyboard. “Yeah, it’s generally done with older
kids, and very often they have been international adoptions,” he said. “The
parents find they can’t handle the child’s behavior, or circumstances in their
lives change. So they look for another home for the child. In the Wisconsin
case, the couple who adopted the child turned out to be child molesters.
Luckily for the child, the first set of parents decided to check up on the
child. It was only when they couldn’t get in touch with the new parents that
they called the police and found out the new parents had not only falsified
their information but their own children had also been taken away from them
because they had violent tendencies.”

“So, there’s no
official record, no documentation for these children that have been re-homed?”
Mary asked.

Bradley shook his
head. “No, and according to the reading I did, there have been at least 5000
cases of re-homing in the past five years.”

“Liza did mention
that her family gave her away to someone else,” Mary said. “I wonder if that’s
the reason there’s no record.”

“That makes sense
to me,” Bradley agreed.

“Okay, first I have
to get my head around the fact that people would think it’s okay to give away a
child,” she said, sitting back in her chair, “to people they don’t know with no
background checks, no governmental knowledge, and no safety net for the child.”

“Not that this is a
justification,” Bradley said, “but many of the cases of re-homing were with
older children who had behavioral problems. The parents just couldn’t handle
them, so they looked for other families who were more capable of dealing with
things like that.”

“But isn’t adoption
kind of like marriage?” Mary asked.
“For better or for worse,
in sickness and in health?
When the going gets tough, you don’t just
give a child away.”

“No, you’re right,”
he agreed. “You don’t give up when the going gets tough.”

Sighing in
frustration, Mary picked up her pad of paper and scanned her notes. “Well, this
adds a whole different layer to the investigation.”

“But if she was
re-homed, and she was killed by the new parents, it adds more urgency to the
case,” Bradley said, “because people are still
re-homing
their children through the Internet.”

“Liza said that she
lived in Dubuque with her first family,” Mary said. “I would think the first
adoption was done legally. Do you think you could make an official call to the
courthouse in Dubuque and see if you could gain access to her adoption
records?”

Bradley picked up
the phone and pressed a button. “Hi, Dorothy,” he said. “Could you get me the
Dubuque County Courthouse in Dubuque, Iowa? I need to talk to someone about
adoption records and a possible abuse case.”

He hung up the
phone. “Now we just wait and see how cooperative they are going to be.
Generally, especially in cases of child abuse, they will open the closed
adoption files.”

“Well, if that
doesn’t work, I’ll be calling every family with the last name of Larson in
Dubuque County to find out if they ever adopted a little girl,” Mary said.
“This is really frightening, Bradley. That little girl was brutally murdered,
and the man who did it to her might be gaining access to other children the
same way.”

Joseph Amoretti
pushed open the doors of the gentlemen’s club and squinted into the bright
sunlight. He was a dapper man with an olive complexion, a neatly groomed
moustache and dark, thick hair. Dressed casually in designer jeans and a button
down shirt, the lifts stuffed inside his leather shoes gave a few more inches
to his five-foot five-inch height. He took a deep breath, inhaling the unique
scent of the Mississippi River only a hundred feet away. The East Dubuque Strip
lay along the riverbank, littered with nightclubs, gentlemen’s clubs and bars.
And Joey felt perfectly at home in the area reminiscent of the Illinois town’s
darker history.

He paused in front
of his car and checked out his reflection, running his fingers through his hair
to give it the tousled, sexy look he felt flattered his face. Opening the car
door, he reached in and pulled out a bottle of mouthwash. The few drinks he had
allowed himself were just a little treat before he had another busy day, but he
didn’t want his wife, Gigi, to notice them on his breath. Taking a swig of the
mint-flavored liquid, he swished it around for a minute before spiting it out
on the gravel parking lot.

After opening his
car door, he pulled out his wallet, thick with bills, and congratulated himself
on another job well done. It hadn’t taken him very long to turn this
transaction into profit. She’d only been with him for four months. It was just
enough time to present the façade of respectability and reassure the family who
had given her up. And she was a beauty, he sighed, shaking his head. If his
wife wasn’t so damn crazy, he might have considered keeping the girl around.

With a slight shrug,
he slid his light frame behind the wheel of his car and headed home. He needed
to shower, shave and change into his vestments to meet the newest member of his
family. He glanced into the rearview mirror and noted his bloodshot eyes. “Yeah,
the good reverend is going to have to use some eye drops to make himself
presentable,” he sneered. “Don’t want to screw up the deal.”

Driving away from
the Mississippi river, he continued up the winding roads that led away from downtown
East Dubuque into the solitude of the countryside. Considering himself an
expert in crime throughout history, he smirked as he passed through quiet,
residential neighborhoods and picturesque parks. “All dressed up and looking
respectable,” he muttered, “when you know you
ain’t
any better than me.
Ain’t
nothing
but window dressing.”

In its heyday, East
Dubuque was known as “Sin City” for its speakeasies, nightclubs, whiskey stills
hidden in the hills during Prohibition, and its connection with the notorious
mobster, Al Capone.

“There’s always a
market for sin,” Joey said, thinking about the money in his wallet.

He drove south
beyond the town limits into the countryside. These roads, the same ones the
bootleggers used nearly a hundred years ago, wove through thick, forested woods
and farmlands to isolated destinations that were perfect for concealing all
kinds of nefarious actions.

Finally, after
about twenty minutes, he pulled up on the dirt road in front of the dilapidated
farmhouse and parked his car. Before he exited the car, the front door of the house
opened and a petite middle-aged woman met him. She was dressed in a modest
skirt and blouse, her hair carefully coiffed. She wore pearls around her neck
and on studs through her earlobes. She looked decisively like a minister’s wife
until you looked into her eyes.

Angelina Gambino
Amoretti, or Gigi as her daddy always called her, was the daughter of one of
the top crime bosses in Chicago. She was a real looker, curves in all the right
places, blonde hair that glimmered in the
light,
and a
mouth that was so plump and ripe it took all he had not to taste it the first
time he met her. Yeah, he thought, grabbing his wallet from the dashboard, and
see where that got me.

“How did it go?”
Gigi asked.

He reached in his
wallet and pulled out the stack of hundred dollar bills. “We hit the jackpot,”
he said, placing a kiss on her cheek. “And she was worth every cent.”

She snatched the
bills from his hand, placed them inside her handbag and then looked him over.
“You look and smell disgusting,” she said. “Go in and clean up, and be quick
about it. We’ve got to drive down to Clinton to meet this new family.”

“Yeah, I’m going,”
he grumbled.

“And this time,
don’t forget to bring your holy books,” she called after him. “What kind of
minister are you without a Bible?”

He stopped on the
first step of the porch and turned back to her. “The kind that gets his rewards
here on earth, my dear,” he sneered, grabbing his crotch and smiling, “and
enjoys the blessings of the flesh.”

“Yes, I noticed,”
she said, glaring at him with such venom that he nearly stumbled. “In the
future, just remember that I give you the ones you can sample. The other ones,
you keep your hands off.”

He shrugged. “Just
breaking them in, my dear,” he replied carefully. “They don’t mean
nothing
to me. None of them are as sexy as you are.”

Her eyes softened
for a moment, and then she shook her head. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me, you
Casanova. You don’t touch them unless I say so,” she repeated. “Do you
understand?”

Nodding, he stepped
back toward the door.
“Yeah.
I do,” he said.

“Good,” she said,
meeting his eyes.
“Because I can dig a big hole in the forest
just as well as I can dig a small one.”

A chill ran down
his spine as he considered the collection of graves behind their barn. “I won’t
touch one ever again, Gigi,” he breathed. “I promise.”

“Where are you
going?” Mike asked, appearing in front of Mary as she headed out of her office
door.

She stopped
suddenly, her hand on her chest, and took a deep breath. “You really have to
stop doing that,” she said pointedly. “This can’t be good for the baby.”

Mike looked
ashamed. “Sorry,” he said.

“Really.
I’m sorry,” he repeated when she gave him a skeptical look. “I was just going
to check in on you, and suddenly, you’re going out the door. Does Bradley
know?”

Sighing audibly,
Mary put her hands on her hips and met Mike’s eyes. “I am going to Galena,” she
said. “I need to see if I can find out any more information about Steve.
Bradley does know that I’m going, but not because I have to ask his permission
to do my job. He knows because we both let each other know what we are doing.
I’m fine. I’m healthy. And I can drive my car.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know
you can,” Mike said. “It’s just…well, Mary, you’re pregnant. And I’ve never
gone through pregnancy before.”

“And you’re not
going through pregnancy now,” Mary replied.

“Well, yeah, okay,
if you want to be technical,” he said, feeling hurt. “I just don’t know how to
protect you.”

She slowly shook
her head. “Mike, is that your assignment? To protect me?” she asked. “Or are
you just getting a little carried away here?”

“Well, I get to
watch over you now, too,” he said.
“Because of the baby.”

“Well then, I don’t
mind you watching over me, and I don’t mind your company,” she said. “But could
you just calm down a little? You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” he said.
“I’ll try to be calmer.”

He slid out of the
way so she could open the door, but then she stopped and looked outside. A
light summer rain had begun to fall. Reaching over to the coat rack near the
door, she grabbed an umbrella and started to open it.

“Mary! Stop!” he
yelled.

She froze. “What?”
she demanded.

“You nearly opened
an umbrella inside,” he said. “That’s bad luck.”

She looked at him
and then looked at the umbrella. “You’re right,” she said. “I forgot.”

She stepped up to
the door, held the umbrella outside and then opened it. “Thanks, Mike,” she
replied. “I certainly don’t need any more bad luck coming my way.”

She walked to her
car with Mike following alongside. “So what are we doing in Galena today?” he
asked.

“We?” she replied,
lifting an eyebrow.

“You said you
didn’t mind my company,” he said with a charming smile.

Laughing, she shook
her head as she entered the car. “Well, we are going to stop at Amelia’s and
see if she can shed any light on what could have happened to Steve.”

“Well, that ought
to be fun,” Mike said. “And I suppose I should stay outside?”

“Well, you can come
in,” Mary agreed, putting the key in the car and turning on the engine. “But if
she starts coughing, you need to leave.”

“That’s weird that
her response to the paranormal is to get choked up,” he said as they pulled out
of their parking spot.

Mary shrugged.
“Makes you kind of wonder how many other people have the same response but
don’t realize it’s because of a ghost.”

Mike grinned and
then coughed. “Allergies,” he said with another mock cough. “Strangest thing,
they just show up every so often.”

Mary raised her
eyebrows and grinned. “Perhaps you’re allergic to ghosts,” she said in a
quietly spooky voice.

“Yeah, I can just
hear a doctor give that as a diagnosis,” Mike said.

“Dr. Frankenstein,
maybe,” Mary teased.

The turned onto
Highway 20 and headed west toward Galena. The rain had stopped, but a beautiful
rainbow glittered in the sky. Mary glanced up at it and smiled. “I’ve always
felt that rainbows were reminders from God,” she said.

“Really?
Reminders of what?”
Mike asked.

“Reminders that no
matter how bad the storm is, there is always something beautiful and wondrous
on the other side,” she said. “You just have to look for it.”

“Why, Mary Alden,
you’re a poet,” Mike teased.

“No, I’m just
someone who’s been through a lot of storms,” she said. “And I have always found
a rainbow on the other side.”

“Do you think
everyone gets a rainbow?” he asked.

She nodded slowly
as she thought about her answer. “Yes, actually I do,” she said. “But if you’re
looking down, you’ll miss it.”

“What’s Liza’s
rainbow?” he asked quietly.

“She’ll never be
hurt again,” Mary replied sadly, and then she smiled softly. “And she found
Donna and Ryan.”

“Have you found out
anything about her yet?” he asked.

“Bradley is trying
to get her adoption records open,” Mary said. “He’s making some calls to
Dubuque. That’s why I decided to concentrate on Steve. I can’t do anything more
for Liza right now.”

Mike nodded and
looked out the window for a moment. “What was my rainbow, Mary?” he finally
asked.

Mary glanced over
to her friend, saw the sadness in his eyes and wished she had the words to take
the sadness away. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Nothing you did caused your
death. It was caused by the actions of someone with a clearly unhinged mind.
You were a victim, and your life ended far sooner than it should have.”

She slowed the car
as they entered one of the small towns on Highway 20 and they passed a schoolyard
filled with children. “You would have been a great dad,” she said quietly.

He didn’t respond
at first but watched the children running after each other, laughing with
simple pleasure. “You know, all of my life, especially after Timmy died, all I
wanted to do was protect people,” he said. “That’s why I became a firefighter.
And even though my life ended too soon, I’m still doing what I wanted to do.
I’m protecting the people I love. I guess I did get a rainbow.”

She smiled at him.
“Well, I know that you’re one of my rainbows,” she said.

“Yeah,
your
most charming, sexy and irresistible rainbow,” he said
with a grin.

“Don’t forget
modest,” Mary added. “You always forget that one.”

He laughed out
loud. “Yeah, and you always remind me.”