Chapter 20
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Peoria, Illinois
Three file summaries were displayed in a cramped font that only a government agency would love. His quick glance showed basic placement information. Names, dates, case numbers reduced to bureaucratic shorthand. He could see enough to confirm the basic intel Gaspar had found and a bit more.
She noticed him looking and gave him a glare before she gave a warning glance up at a CCTV camera in the corner and turned her monitor away from his view. But only after he’d had enough time to memorize a few things.
“The kids were separated and placed with families trained for high-trauma cases,” Gloria said as she looked through the files.
“We had to be careful. The kids had been through tough times even before losing their mother. Carolyn wouldn’t speak for months.
The boys had nightmares and separation anxiety. ”
“She looks really young to have three kids,” Drake said with sympathy. “Are you sure Lisa Peterson was their real mother?”
“She was young. Which was part of the tragedy. No teen would take on three kids like that if she had a choice.” Gloria’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“The way she talked about them, cared for them. The love they obviously showered on her. Ahmad Patel over at the store told us how devoted Lisa was to those kids. And the children’s reaction when she didn’t come back. You can’t fake that kind of grief.”
“Why couldn’t you find her family after she died?” Drake asked as if he were genuinely puzzled.
“That’s what made the case so complicated.
After she died, we found that Lisa Peterson and her kids seemed to have no official history.
We pulled DNA from all four of them but couldn’t get a match anywhere.
They weren’t listed in any databases in Illinois.
We even checked the public DNA sites. No luck.
” Gloria leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Lisa told people her ex was vicious. Violent. Drug addicted. Some say the kids resulted from sexual abuse. She didn’t want him anywhere near her kids.
It was pretty clear she was hiding from someone dangerous. ”
Drake kept his expression neutral. “So Lisa Peterson couldn’t prove her own identity?”
“Well, she was deceased by the time we were looking. If Lisa had survived, she could have, I’m sure.”
“But then you wouldn’t have been asking,” Drake agreed, nodding to encourage her.
“We’ve had people impersonating others before.
Unlike Lisa, they usually have some fake documentation because they know they’ll be asked.
Lisa was trying to disappear, not commit fraud.
” Gloria shook her head. “When she died, we were very careful. Her kids were placed with good families. We all believed Lisa was protecting them from something terrible and we wanted to honor that.”
“I need to track those kids down now, though,” Drake said. “Can you help me with that?”
“It gets complicated.” Gloria clicked to another screen. “Once the adoptions were finalized and sealed, our jurisdiction ended. The adoptive families are free to move, change names, do whatever they want. We have no way to maintain updated records.”
“Which really does mean the only way I’m going to get some answers about this scammer is to talk to those kids,” Drake said with naked appeal.
“I understand the importance, but I don’t even have access to that information.” Gloria shook her head sadly. “The later adoptions were sealed to protect both the parents and the kids.”
“Was that unusual?”
“No. The parents requested secrecy, and the court-appointed guardian recommended it.”
Drake sighed. He’d hit a dead end, but at least he’d confirmed the adoptions. “Do you remember anything that could help me find Lisa’s children?”
“The judge agreed that given the circumstances and Lisa’s apparent need to hide, the children would be safer with their new identities sealed.
” Gloria replied flatly as she gave Drake a warning look.
“If someone is using their identities now, could those children be in real danger again? After all this time?”
“Yes, I think so. Scammers like this fake Lisa Peterson can be vicious when backed into a corner,” Drake said.
“I wish I could help you.” Gloria shook her head slowly. “But I can’t.”
Drake thanked her and headed out to his car through the lobby’s stale air. The automatic doors wheezed open, releasing him into the late afternoon chill.
His phone rang.
“Tell me you have good news,” Flint said.
“Mixed. The identity theft cover story is working well, but the legal obstacles are exactly what we expected.” Drake summarized his conversations with the adoption records clerk and Gloria Stevens. “Court orders will take months, and there are multiple cases that could complicate our search.”
Flint was quiet for a moment. “The identity theft angle is smart misdirection. It explains our interest without revealing what we actually know.”
“Exactly. And it makes people want to help Lisa Peterson’s kids.”
“How long would court petitions take?”
“Six to eight weeks minimum. And that’s assuming we can demonstrate good cause, which might be difficult without revealing the truth.”
“We don’t have that kind of time,” Flint said.
“We need a different approach. The legal route is going to take too long, and we might not even get approval.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Everything about this case is risky,” Drake said. “But we’re not going to find the Fisher children by filing paperwork and waiting for judges to maybe grant us access to records.”
“I’m about thirty minutes out. We’ll discuss this when I see you,” Flint said and rang off.
Drake merged onto the interstate, heading toward the hotel. He checked his mirrors. No black SUVs, no obvious surveillance. But that didn’t mean much. Good teams could maintain surveillance without being detected.
As he waited to turn left at a traffic light, a white pickup truck drove slowly past. The driver studied Drake with obvious interest. Nothing immediately threatening, but enough to catch his attention.
He checked his mirrors. The white pickup must have gone around the block. It was following now, maintaining a careful distance.
Drake tested the tail by varying his speed and changing lanes. The pickup matched his movements but stayed farther back than trained surveillance would have. Either they were very good at appearing amateur, or they actually were amateur.
Drake pulled into a Mobil station and watched the white pickup drive past. He caught a glimpse of the driver.
A middle-aged man in a faded Cubs baseball cap who looked more like a curious neighbor than an operative. Still, after the earlier ambush, Drake wasn’t taking any chances.
He filled his gas tank, bought a coffee that tasted like it had been brewing since morning, and waited fifteen minutes before getting back on the road. No sign of the pickup truck.
His phone rang as he merged back onto the interstate. Flint again.
“Where are you?”
“Fifteen minutes out.” Drake glanced in his mirrors. Clear road behind him. “Thought I had a tail for a while, but it might have been nothing. Local curiosity.”
“I’ll get a shower and meet you in the restaurant in the lobby,” Flint said before he hung up.
As Drake drove through the fading afternoon light, he reflected on how the system had actually protected the Fisher children exactly as it was designed to do.
When Lizzy died and left three traumatized children with no verifiable identity, the social workers and courts had done everything right to keep them safe.
They’d placed them with good homes and sealed their records to protect them from unknown dangers.
It was effective protection.
It was also keeping them hidden from the only real family they still had. A family they would likely want to know.
The three adults were living somewhere under false names. They were unaware that their older brother was spending millions of dollars to find them.
Drake smiled grimly. Flint had advantages the court system couldn’t account for. Unlimited resources, expertise, and the determination of a wealthy brother who believed his siblings were alive.
Surely, they could breach the brick wall erected around them by the State of Illinois with those resources without going through the courts.
Drake was sitting at a table in the hotel bar nursing a beer when Flint walked through the door. The bar was dimly lit with fake Tiffany lamps and decorated in an aggressive Irish pub theme that had probably seemed like a good idea at the time.
“How was Mount Warren?” Drake asked as Flint settled into the opposite chair at the corner table. He always chose a corner table so they could both sit with their backs to the wall. A precaution that had proved effective more than once.
“Productive.” Flint replied and signaled the waitress for a drink. To shut down further questions, he said, “Tell me about your progress.”
Drake briefed Flint more fully on his conversations.
“So do we have potential leads on any of Lizzy’s children?” Flint asked.
“Not yet. Gaspar says he’s close.” Drake took a sip of his beer.
Flint nodded. “Jason Fisher called twice today asking for updates. He’s getting impatient.”
“How much do we tell him?”
“Nothing yet. Not until we have concrete information about current identities and locations.” Flint leaned back in his chair. “But we need to move faster. Someone is still willing to kill to keep this all buried.”
Drake raised his beer in a mock toast. “To finding needles in haystacks.”
“To bringing Jason Fisher’s family back together,” Flint replied, “before someone makes sure they disappear forever.”
“Sounds like a plan. When do we start?” Drake said, lifting his beer for a swig.
“Right after we eat and get some sleep,” Flint said as he signaled the waitress.