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showed on one of the smaller screens. She was running Jenner through CODIS, the FBI’s national DNA database of convicted offenders. “Nothing,” she said, though they could see as much for themselves. She ran Jenner through the state system, then the regional, trying to find any record of arrest or registration as a sex offender. Finally, she Googled the man.
    Pay dirt.
    “He’s a tax lawyer,” Faith said. She clicked and scrolled through various articles in
The Atlanta Journal Constitution
, calling out her findings as she skimmed the information. Jennerwasn’t the type to fly below the radar. The guy did pro bono work for a children’s charity. He coached little league baseball. He was a certified lifeguard who helped out at the local YMCA.
    “Typical,” Amanda muttered. “They always hide in plain sight.”
    “Found the kid.” The Sea-Tac footage sped up, and a short, round woman was shown holding the girl in her arms. The child was obviously too big to be held. The woman nearly buckled under her weight.
    “The woman is Eleanor Fielding,” the guy supplied. “Kid’s listed as Abigail Fielding.”
    Vanessa asked, “Is she still with the kid when they land?”
    The footage cut back to the gate in Atlanta. Will saw a line of passengers exiting the boarding door. They looked tired and confused, the way most people did when they sat in a metal tube for five hours and landed in a completely different city. All of them searched for signs, looking for either the exit or their next gate.
    Fielding was in the second wave of passengers coming up the jetway. She didn’t look confused at all as she walked into the terminal. She headed off with purpose, almost jogging toward the escalators to the underground train.
    Vanessa ordered, “Stay on the door.”
    The film sped up, but not so much that they couldn’t make out the faces. The tech was good. The film was back at normal speed when Joseph Allen Jenner’s face came on-screen. He was one of the last passengers off the plane. He was holding the girl’s hand, dragging her along. Instead of heading toward the exit, he took her to an adjoining gate. A second and third camera tracked their progress as he led her to the back wall and forced her to sit in a chair. The girl was still groggy. She yawned, looking around with seemingly unfocused eyes.
    “She looks drugged,” Amanda noted.
    “That’s fairly common,” Vanessa supplied. She’d worked at the airport long enough to know how these people operated. “We had a kid abducted on the West Coast last year. Drugged out of his mind. Flight attendants assumed he was sleeping, which is what you want from a kidon a long flight. He was passed off at the international terminal and on his way to Amsterdam by the time LAX tracked the internal flight.”
    “Did you recover him?” Will asked.
    Vanessa nodded, but Will could tell from her expression that the kid hadn’t escaped unscathed. Not many of them did.
    Stranger abductions were rare—statistically, a kid was much more likely to be harmed by a family member—but the Internet was making things easier for predators. Will had been involved in a sting several years ago where a man took photos of kids on the playground and posted them to a private chat room. His plan was to snatch a kid that he could trade with another predator. It was a pedophile’s version of the old Sears Wish Book. The man had been arrested, but these assholes were like cockroaches. For every one you caught, there were thousands hiding in the walls.
    Like Joseph Allen Jenner.
    On the security footage, it was obvious that the little girl was coming around. She was more awake now, taking in her surroundings, fidgeting in the chair. Jenner was visibly on edge. He kept looking at his watch, checking the time against the clock on the wall.
    “He’s waiting for something,” Vanessa said. “Fast-forward.”
    The tape sped up almost ten full minutes. Jenner took another look at his watch and