Page 43 of John’s Yearning

“A problem?”

“No. Just a colleague.” Or rather a passive-aggressive protégée. He’d deal with Deirdre later. Maybe a little thank you for her help would smooth things over.

He pulled out the police file he’d stashed in his top drawer and opened it. Then he leafed through it, and pulled out the photos of all the missing children, lining them up along the edge of his desk. Savannah watched him wordlessly.

When he was done, he looked at her. “Put Buffy’s photo next to them.”

She pulled it out of the handbag she’d brought—not the one she’d had with her during her meeting with the kidnappers, but another one.

When Buffy’s photo lay next to the pictures of the other children, John took a moment to look at every photo. Not all of them had the same background, or were staged like Buffy’s. Some hadn’t been taken by professionals, but clearly by the family. But seventy-five percent of the pictures were like Buffy’s: professional, posed in the same fashion, and, most importantly, they showed one thing in the background that had drawn his attention in the first place.

He pointed to it now. “See this?”

Savannah leaned closer. “What am I looking at?”

John tapped at a spot in the right hand corner of Buffy’s photo, then did the same on several of the others. “They all have the same blue background color, which I suppose is a popular background for staged portraits, but look closer.”

Savannah’s gaze switched from Buffy’s photo to those of the other children, then she suddenly stared at him, her mouth agape. “A tear.”

He nodded. “Yes. Photographers store different backgrounds on rolls, then roll them down behind the person they’re photographing to change the backgrounds. What are the odds of more than one photographer having a blue background that shows a little tear at the same spot?”

Savannah pulled up straight. “All those kids… they had their pictures taken by the same photographer.”

John nodded. “That’s the connection.”

Savannah pointed to the other photos, the ones that looked like snapshots. “What about these children?”

“I bet, once we call all families, we’ll find out that they all saw the same photographer, but just like you, they didn’t give the police the professional photos and gave them snapshots of their kids instead.”

Slowly Savannah nodded. “I never thought of giving the police the framed photo. I had so many of Buffy that I’d taken myself.”

“Exactly.”

“So what now? You think it’s the photographer?”

“We’ll find out. You remember the name and address?”

She nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Good, then let’s start with him.”

“Her. The photographer was a woman.”

“Okay.” It didn’t matter. A woman could just as much be involved in a child trafficking ring as a man. In fact, it was an even better front. The parents wouldn’t have seen her as a threat. “I’ll get one of my guys to call all families and find out if they all went to the same photographer. Can you write down the name and address for me?”

She pulled out her cell phone. “I should have it in my calendar.” She started scrolling through her phone, but before she got to the entry on her electronic calendar, the door was ripped open.

John’s gaze shot to it. Samson stood in the door frame, annoyance in his expression. And the fact that he’d stormed down to the second floor, rather than called to summon John to his office, wasn’t a good sign either. Something had just hit the fan.

“Samson.”

When Samson saw Savannah, he stopped in his tracks. “Excuse the interruption.” He nodded at Savannah, a tight smile on his face, then looked at John. “Do you have a minute, John?”

It wasn’t a question. It was an order.

John walked around the desk and followed Samson out. He looked over his shoulder at Savannah. “Back in a second.” Then he pulled the door shut.

Samson walked to the end of the corridor, where he stopped and turned around. John joined him a moment later.