Josh stared out the passenger window of the dark gray Ford sedan, listening to the hush of the windshield wipers and wondering how Agent Merritt liked being relegated to the backseat of his own Bureau-issued vehicle.

If it troubled Chang that Agent Merritt might be sour about losing his driving privileges, she didn’t show it. And that was for the best. Turcotte might be in charge of the overall investigation, but up here in Maine, Chang was running the show. If she wanted to be behind the wheel literally as well as figuratively, Merritt would just have to deal with it.

Chang turned down a narrow alley that bisected a strip of old brick buildings. A Bangor P.D. vehicle was parked at the curb, the officer watching the alley entrance, checking them out as they drove in. Either he recognized them, or had known to expect them.

Voss and Turcotte were even now on a flight bound for Maine. The FBI was still working with Florida State Police, hunting for al-Din’s two surviving accomplices, but since the Bangor babynapping—as the press were calling it—represented the most recent sighting of any of their suspects, it made sense to move the base of operations here. There would be a meeting in a few hours, during which they’d put their heads together and figure out what to do next with the huge pile of nothing they had to go on.

Now, though, it looked like there might be one more piece to add to the puzzle by the time Voss and Turcotte arrived.

Another alley, much wider, ran behind the row of buildings, and beyond it was a chain-link fence rooted in a three-foot-high concrete barrier. In one place, the chain link had been cut away from a metal post and the mesh pulled back to create an easily passable gap. Beyond that barrier lay the Penobscot River. Two Bangor P.D. cruisers were parked in that back alley, along with a state police car. As Chang parked and they all climbed out, Josh glanced to the right, where he saw several other police cars farther down the alley.

A captain from the Bangor P.D. hurried toward them, a state trooper just behind him. The day hadn’t gotten any brighter. Light rain pattered all around them and the gloom of the afternoon enclosed them like a shroud.

“Agent Chang,” the captain said.

“Show us,” Chang said.

The local guys led them off to the left, behind a Salvation Army store. A scarred and dented Dumpster sat beside a big metal box brightly painted with the charity’s logo.

“People can put clothing donations and toys and things through the slot there,” the captain said, pointing.

Josh thought the part of the box that pulled out, the “slot,” looked more like a hatch, but he wouldn’t argue. To donate something, you had to grab the handle and haul it down and open, like a giant mailbox.

“A car seat’s not going to fit through there,” Agent Merritt said. “Not even an infant seat.”

Josh glanced at him, wondering if Merritt had children of his own. He realized he didn’t know anything about the man. But then, that was par for the course in his world. Once the case moved on, he’d never see the guy again, and that was fine by him. So why didn’t he feel that way about Chang? He felt comfortable working with her, and was in no rush to move on to the next case or the next crime scene and leave her behind. Weird.

“The car seat wasn’t in the donation box,” the captain said. “An assistant manager found it between the box and the Dumpster. She wasn’t sure if it was meant to be thrown away or had been left as a donation, so she took it inside.”

“Isn’t the store closed today?” Merritt asked.

“It is, but there are still donations. Either the manager or assistant manager makes at least one visit on the days they’re closed to check the box and make sure it hasn’t been filled with unwanted items or crammed full of so much stuff that there’s not room for people to push things through.”

“So, the assistant manager?” Josh prodded.

“Like I said, she went to take it inside. Then she remembered the Kowalik abduction and called us.”

“You’ve confirmed it’s the Kowaliks’ car seat?” Chang asked.

“It’s been taken down for forensics,” the captain replied. “But it’s brand new, and the same model as the Kowaliks bought. It would be an incredible coincidence if it isn’t theirs.”

A heavy silence filled the alley as they all acknowledged what it meant that al-Din no longer needed the infant seat.

“My people are looking along the riverbank,” the captain said, gesturing toward the barrier and the river beyond.

“I’ve got agents on the way,” Chang said, “and we need as many officers as you can get. State and local. I want every Dumpster, trash can, and alley back here searched. We’ve got to get someone who knows this river, and can figure out the current and where a body might end up. And I want all of these businesses canvassed. Someone must have seen something.”

The captain nodded and turned to his state police counterpart, and they began making calls and issuing orders.

Chang turned to Merritt. “I want you on this, Ian. Stick with them and relay anything back to me.”

Agent Merritt frowned. “Where are you going to be?”

Chang glanced at Josh, then pointed at the opening torn in the chain-link fence. “Out there. Looking.”

Josh could feel the waves of anger and frustration coming off Chang. Either that, or it was his own emotion reflecting back at him. He had been convinced that the Kowaliks’ daughter must be dead, but Chang had admonished him for that presumption. She had helped to kindle a small spark of hope in him. Now that spark had been extinguished.

He tried not to think of the Kowaliks, but he found he couldn’t think of anything else. Barring a miracle, their baby girl was dead. He felt sick just thinking about it, and wondered if the newborn had been alive when he and Chang arrived in Bangor, or if al-Din had already done his terrible work by then.

“If I had him in front of me right now—” Josh began, as he and Chang walked toward the break in the fence.

“I know,” Chang said. That was all. But it was enough.

As she started to climb through the barrier, Josh’s phone buzzed. He let her go, pulling out the phone and glancing at it. Earlier today he had set up an hourly web search, looking for any references to child abduction. Now he opened the message on his phone, connected to the news site where his search had found a hit, and read the beginning of the article.

“What is it?” Chang asked, peering at him through the chain link.

“Someone tried to snatch a baby—seven months old—from a woman in Massachusetts today. Mother’s name is …” He glanced at his phone. “Caitlin McCandless. Iraq War vet.”

Chang arched an eyebrow. “You think?”

“I don’t know what to think about anything these days,” Josh said. “But I should at least make a call.”

Chang nodded. “You’ll catch up?”

“Two minutes.”

For a few seconds after she turned away, he just stood and watched her go. He could hear loud engines up the street and knew more police cars would be arriving momentarily. The search was about to get much narrower, focused on these few blocks and a hell of a lot of riverside.

He called information and got the number for the police department in Medford, Massachusetts. A few seconds’ wait and he was automatically connected, listening to the ringing of the line until he heard a click, and an answer.

“Medford police. This is Sergeant Bryce. Your call is being recorded.”

Josh introduced himself. Homeland Security needed no introduction, but he had to explain the ICD unit. He offered to wait and let Bryce check him out, but the sergeant didn’t seem to think that was necessary.

“What can I do for you, Agent Hart?” Sergeant Bryce asked.

“You had an attempted child abduction today. I’m working a case in Bangor, a newborn taken from outside a hospital here. You may have seen it on the news.”

“How could I miss it?” Bryce said. “They keep showing that security video.”

“What can you tell me about what happened there today?” Josh asked.

“You should probably talk to one of the detectives on the case. Monteforte and Jarman caught that one, but neither one of them is in right now. You want cell numbers for them?”

“That would be good,” Josh said.

“Hang on,” Bryce replied.

As he waited, Josh pulled out his pad and pen. He watched up and down the alley as more cops showed up and began to spread out, starting to search Dumpsters and doorways. Some of them found another opening in the fence down behind the Chinese restaurant and went through to the river’s edge.

The sergeant came back and rattled off the numbers. Phone caught between his ear and shoulder, Josh scribbled them down.

“Thanks, Sergeant,” he said. “I don’t have any real reason to think there’s a connection, but I figured it was worth a call. Do you have descriptions of the suspects?”

“Good descriptions, actually,” Bryce replied.

He rattled them off, probably reading from a BOLO—a Be-on-the-Lookout Order—issued for the would-be abductors. Josh frowned as he listened. Two men, one Caucasian, one African-American. White guy had scruffy hair and blue eyes, African-American had a crew cut and a scar on his face.

“Thanks for that,” he told the sergeant. “Doesn’t sound like our guys at all.”

“No problem,” Bryce replied. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Josh ended the call, clutching his phone in his hand. He stuffed the pad and pen back into his pocket, trying to decide if he was relieved or frustrated that the McCandless case didn’t have any connection to his. If the abductors had been Middle Eastern, they would at least have had somewhere else to start looking for al-Din. Right now, they were turning up nothing in Florida and Maine.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Then he heard his name being called. He turned to see Chang approaching the cut in the fence from the river side. He started toward her, meaning to join her in the search, but as he got closer, he saw the expression on her face, the tightness around her eyes and lips.

At the fence, he reached up and pushed his fingers through the chain link, knowing without Chang saying a word. From the other side, she took his hand through the metal mesh, fingers sliding through the links above his.

“He threw her in the river?” Josh asked.

Chang nodded, her features turned to stone. “She’s downstream. Not very far at all. Still wearing the plastic bracelet from the hospital.”

Josh hung his head, tamping down his rage. When he could force his face to be as impassive as Chang’s, he climbed through the hole in the fence.

In his career he had not only seen monstrous things, but encountered monsters. Gharib al-Din had just made himself the worst of them.

“We’ve got to find this son of a bitch,” Chang muttered.

Josh reached out a hand and touched the small of her back. “We will,” he said, knowing that he and Chang were both silently finishing the thought in the same way.

Before he does it again.