trouble. How are you going to help her?”
“We’re going to help her,” Noah answered, then briefed her on what Laney had told him.
The woman grasped the situation quickly, and Noah was grateful once again for this gem in the rough. The steel-haired brick of the office never soft-pedaled her opinion, but her sternness hid a marshmallow heart. She refused to plague the children with her last name, so she was the beloved Miss Aggie who packed an ounce of sugar into her scolds and stood firm as a rock while everyone’s problems crashed against her. Today, she would need all her fortitude.
“Announce an orange alert over the intercom,” Noah finished. “Then give Laney any assistance she needs. I’ll wait for the authorities on the playground. Send someone to get me if you need me.”
“Will do.” Miss Aggie’s blazing brown eyes telegraphed that Satan himself would have a hard time getting past her to do anyone harm in her school.
As he strode up the hall, the woman’s platinum tones issued the orange alert, the internal code for intruder watch. In the tiny town of Cottonwood Grove, Minnesota, people routinely left their cars running during the winter while they ran into the grocery store for milk, so his code system had seemed extreme to some. When he implemented it, he’d hoped never to use some of the alerts—especially this one. At least it wasn’t an Amber Alert, the national code for a missing child.
Noah strode onto the playground. A small group of staff members hovered near the fence about a foot from an entrance gap. In the center of the huddle stood the custodian, Richard Hodge. The man cradled a bulky object in his arm while he rifled through it.
“All right, people.” Noah smacked his palms together, and heads swiveled toward him. The custodian froze with his hand in the bag. “Thanks for coming out to help. Richard, please leave the pack on the ground. I’ll take it from here.”
With murmurs and shrugs, the group dispersed.
The custodian plunked the bag on the grass and backed away from it. “Just tryin’ to see whose it was. Didn’t recognize the name.”
“Thank you, but it’s not your worry. Head inside, but be aware that we are on orange alert.”
Richard’s prematurely lined face settled into a scowl. “Figured we couldn’t end the school year without some kind of trouble.” He clomped away.
Noah watched him go. For a thirtysomething guy with most of his life ahead of him, a steady job and good benefits, the custodian had the dimmest outlook of anyone he knew. What was his story?
Shaking his head, Noah studied the bag. The backpack used to be green. He squatted down and took in the shabby condition and decaying seams. A few sheets of yellowed paper stuck out of the torn edges—aged but not pulped by exposure to the elements. Interesting. When the police arrived, he’d have to inform them the custodian had handled the bag, so they could get his fingerprints for elimination. Laney’s, too.
Noah let out a soft growl and rose. Even after all this time, his thoughts fell into investigator mode. This situation was a trap for him in more ways than one.
“The authorities are on their way.” Laney’s mellow voice reminded him of one of those traps.
He turned to find her approaching. Her complexion had more color than when she all but collapsed in his office. Everything about her appealed to him, from the glossy brown hair bouncing against slender shoulders to her big blue eyes and gentle way with her special needs students. But he’d vowed never again to mix his professional life with his personal life.
She stopped beside him, the top of her head coming to his chin, which made her a petite five-two or so. “I think we’re going to see both the sheriff and the city boys,” she said, her gaze fixed on the backpack. She shuddered and hugged herself.
Noah bunched his fists and denied the impulse to hold her. The temptation would have been harder to squash if he didn’t know so many eyes were on them. He’d seen noses pressed against the windows. Even without the orange alert, people in this small school could smell something was up.
“Tell me about it, Laney.” He stepped close.
Noah mentally smacked himself for a fool. The fresh rain scent of her understated cologne reached his nostrils, and as usual, those enormous eyes did terrible, wonderful things to his insides. Good thing for him she’d always appeared oblivious to the attraction.
“Grace was autistic,” she said. “It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to take advantage of her.”
“She was eight.” He grimaced. “It’s pretty easy for an adult to take advantage of any child that young.”
“I know but…how do I explain?” She rubbed the side of her neck. “My sister didn’t see the world in the same way as a child without that particular perspective. Gracie could fixate on something and not notice one other thing around her. The monster who took her must have lured her with something that fascinated her. Otherwise she was leery of strangers, and could get vocal and combative if someone unfamiliar invaded her space.”
Noah frowned. “Lured her? You’re sure it was a stranger abduction?”
“The FBI came to that conclusion after extensive investigation.”
“Did the predator have to get her away from a public place? If he found her in a remote or private location, he wouldn’t have cared if there was a struggle.”
Laney’s sable brows lifted. “You talk like someone familiar with these situations.”
Noah rippled his shoulders. “A school principal needs to be these days.”
She looked away, and a breath stuttered between her teeth. “The world has gotten so scary. You surmised correctly. Grace was walking home from school and disappeared from our home block. People were in their yards, but no one saw a thing.”
“I take it she was never found.”
“Not her body, just evidence that she didn’t survive the abduction. A lot of blood was discovered in the bottom of a ravine near Grand Valley. That’s the town in southeastern Minnesota where we lived at the time.” She shook her head. “I blame myself to this day.”
Noah narrowed his gaze at her. Why did she feel responsible? She couldn’t have been much older than her sister. Just a kid.
A sheriff’s SUV and a Cottonwood Grove police cruiser pulled up to the curb outside the playground fence, lights flashing but no sirens. Sheriff Hank Lindoll and one of his deputies climbed out of the SUV, and a pair of city officers out of the car. The convocation strode toward them in V formation, with Lindoll flying point.
“Noah.” The tall, rawboned sheriff greeted him and sent a long glance toward Laney.
“Hank.” Noah nodded to the county official who’d be lead investigator in this case. A good man. He should feel relieved. Instead, he tamped down an irrational spike of resentment.
“What’ve we got here?” The sheriff glared at the tattered pack.
“Laney says it belonged to her sister who was abducted as a child. I’ll let her fill you in.”
Noah forced himself to back
