The Truth Revealed: Samantha Cain Mystery Series, #3

By Deborah Lynne

A child has gone missing...

Will Samantha Cain and her team be able to find the boy in time to save him...and now a little girl disappears. Are they connected?

No sooner had Samantha, Greg and Margaret started their PI business than a hot case drops into their lap. A child from their church family has gone missing and the couple plead with Sam begging them to take on their case.

FBI and police are searching for both children, but the boy's family doesn't feel like the FBI are getting any closer to finding their son.

Shortly after Sam's team takes the case, a little girl disappears from school as well. Two different schools around the corner from one another...but both children go to the same church. Is that the connection?

Has the team taken on more than they can deal with? The clock is ticking. The stakes are high. Will they find him in time? Will the little girl be with him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sand & Sea Publishing
• Release date: Jan 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386423096

Book preview

Chapter 1

At the end of the service , Samantha Cain grabbed her Bible and purse, then followed Margaret Greenwood and Greg Singleton down the middle aisle. As they ambled in the slow procession of the people leaving church, Sam felt a tug on her left hand. A whispered pleading in her ear followed the pull: You have to help us!

Sam spun toward the voice, only to find a woman’s back retreating as she fought against the flow of the crowd. People walked around Sam as she stopped and eyed the impeccably dressed couple edging farther away. The man holding the woman’s hand was recognizable as his frame towered well above the congregation. 

Emotions swept through Sam’s core as she watched Jack and Betsey Adams move toward the podium. The agony that couple must be going through... Their child had disappeared from school on Friday around noon. The FBI and police hadn’t found the first lead. No tips—nothing. It had been forty-eight hours. The couple had received no ransom demand. No one was trying to negotiate the safe return of their eight year old son, Robert.

What would she do if it were Marty? Her adorable nine year old son wore wire-rimmed glasses accentuating his big green eyes. Marty’s head was capped with a mass of red curly hair. He was her life. What would she do? She shuddered at the notion as she gathered her long straight brown mane over her right shoulder, something she did when she sensed a sudden awareness of tension. Some called it nervous energy. But Sam couldn’t bear the thought of losing her son, so she removed that image from her mind immediately.

Where was their son? Who had taken Robert? And why? Had they hurt him? Was he still alive? Once again she weaved through the crowd and caught up to her friends.

Margaret, Sam called, will you and Greg pick up Marty from children’t church? I’ll meet you at the car.

Margaret had come to care for Sam’s son back when Sam worked at a trucking company, before her boss’s death. In fact, Matthew, her police officer fiancé, had found Margaret shortly after he and Sam had become engaged. Once Margaret was the hired help, but now she was like family. Sam appreciated her, Marty adored her, and Greg loved her.

The woman’s brown brows furrowed as she searched Sam’s face. Sure, Sam. No problem. Margaret clasped Greg’s hand and dipped her head slightly, causing her curls to quiver. You heard that?

He lifted his blue gaze as his gray-streaked blond hair fell across his forehead, shading his left eye. Then he nodded with one quick motion. Together he and Margaret kept pace with the exiting crowd as Sam stepped into an empty pew, waiting for the throng of people to clear.

When the aisle emptied, Sam headed toward the couple who huddled close with the pastor. The three stood with heads bowed, gathered near the pulpit. By the team she reached them, Pastor James was embracing the distraught woman as her husband looked on with tear-rimmed eyes. Sam stayed back, trying not to disrupt the moment, but the minute Betsey noticed her presence, she broke free from the preacher’s arms.

Samantha, she murmured, thank you for coming over. Her voice cracked.

Oh, Samantha, dear, Pastor James said. To the couple, he added, Now this could be God’s direction. Maybe she and Greg Singleton could help you find your son. He extended his hand in the direction of Sam.

She stepped forward.

Thank you, Pastor.

Sam accepted a handshake from the preacher.

Leaving the three of them alone, Pastor James went on to visit with others who waited to speak to him, giving them time to talk about the horrific situation. Sam was certain the preacher would love them to try and help find the boy.

Sam, we really need your help, Betsey cried in desperation. I hope we can persuade you to help us find our son. Her puffy eyes locked on Sam.

Could we help this couple find their boy? Sam wondered. But how can we be of more help than the police or the FBI?

Instantly, she knew the answer. Yes, we could. She and Greg could check places, talk to people, and ask questions that the officers of the law weren’t legally able to ask. They could also snoop where the law needed a warrant to search, thus slowing down the process. With a kidnapped child, every moment counted.

She recalled only six months prior, when she and Greg had followed every path they could find to prove her own innocence, but the police only followed the so-called evidence. Lieutenant Jones, of course, believed her guilty—believed she had killed her boss—so he wasn’t looking too hard in any other direction. 

In time, perhaps her innocence would have been discovered. But with a son to raise, Samantha had no time to lose. Had it not been for the pushing and prodding Sam and Greg had done, she doubted the guilty party would have been exposed before the police carted Sam off to jail for a crime she hadn’t committed. She and Greg had followed God’s lead in the directions they took to prove her innocence. Hopefully, they could do it again to help find this young boy.

How can I help you? she asked.

Don’t you and Greg have a PI service? We need someone to find our little boy. The FBI can’t seem to do it. Betsey broke into sobs. The circles under her eyes spoke volumes of her fear and her lack of sleep.

Her husband cradled his arm over her shoulder, attempting to comfort his wife as he pleaded, Please, Ms. Cain, will you help us? Although immaculately dressed, he too showed signs of wear: dark circles under his eyes and sunken cheeks.

Sam’s heart broke. Raising her hands slightly, she said calmly, I’m not sure we can, as much as I would like to help. Taking a short breath, she went on to explain. We haven’t started our business yet. We’re just getting the office set up. I don’t even have my license yet. Close, but I’m not there. But I’ll speak with Greg. He’s set to go. And with his police training he’s so on top of things and procedures. I’ll talk with him and see what we can do. Give me your number, and I’ll call you within the hour.

Jack extracted a business card out of his suit coat pocket. My cell is listed at the bottom. Call me as soon as possible. We need you desperately. Please don’t let us down. He pushed the card into Sam’s hand and closed his hand over hers, squeezing for a brisk second. Then he dropped his hold. Thank you, he whispered.

Sam gazed at them both. She wanted to assist this couple. Could we? We’ll need Your help, Lord. I’ll call you. Sam gripped Betsey’s hands, tightened her hold for a minute before letting go, hoping to infuse in that moment a feeling of confidence, encouraging Betsey not to give up hope. Her stomach knotted as she turned to go. Rushing through the now empty church, she hurried to find Greg’s new silver Mercury. Everyone was seated inside the Grand Marquis, awaiting her arrival.

As she climbed into the back seat, the scent of the newness still lingered in the vehicle.

What’s going on? Greg asked. Wasn’t that the parents of the missing child?

Who’s missing? Marty asked.

Sam’s eyes pinned Greg’s as he glanced in the rearview mirror, pleading with him to watch what he said in front of little ears.

She then rotated slightly toward her son, who was sitting next to her. Has anyone mentioned to you that Robert Adams has disappeared? I think he’s a year younger than you, so you may not know who I’m talking about. He and his family go to our church.

I know who you’re talking about, Momma. They call him Bobby. Yes. I heard about him this morning in Sunday school and children’s church. We prayed and asked God to bring him home. Surely God heard us. It was a lot of us thanking Him at one time.

Yeah, baby. That’s him. Bobby Adams. I’m sure God was listening. She reached across the back seat and tapped Greg on the shoulder. We’ll talk as soon as we get to the house. You’re coming in for lunch, aren’t you?

Greg looked at Margaret, sitting to his right. She batted her lashes at him in response. The corners of his lips lifted slightly as he said, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Margaret made lasagna...my favorite. Smacking his lips and producing loud noises of anticipation while making silly faces, he glanced in his rearview mirror at an angle and caught the eye of the nine year old boy in the back seat.

Laughing out loud, Marty kicked the back of the seat with his  foot. Yuck, Mr. Greg. That sounds disgusting.

All right, you two. Margaret pursed her lips. I worked hard this morning to get that that ready for our lunch. You both better eat and enjoy—or I may not cook next Sunday. She tipped her chin into the air as if to say, And that is final!

Everyone laughed.

As happiness resounded in the car, Sam’s reflections immediately drew to the pain the desperate parents must be sensing on their ride home to their empty house...empty of laughter...empty of their son’s voice. They can’t hear the cheeriness of their son filling their home.

Then memories of the past few years flooded her thoughts. Samantha had been through an abusive marriage with her cop husband, followed by his suicide. For three years, she’d suffered the pain of that loss as well as the accusing eyes that blamed her for his death. Somehow in the midst, she’d worked hard to care for Marty and herself.

Then things had only gotten worse. Shortly after learning self-defense, so she would never be caught unable to defend herself again, she witnessed a murder. Although she tried to intervene, she was too late. The woman died.

Next, the killer targeted her, trying to silence the only witness who could identify him. The detective in charge of those killings, Matthew Jeffries, had saved her, captured the killer, and won her heart all at the same time.

A year later, days before they were to wed, Matthew was killed in the line of duty.

Six months later, Sam’s boss was murdered in his office. Her prints were found on what was supposedly the weapon of choice. That, and the fact she was the only one working the night he was murdered caused the police to suspect her as the killer. But thanks to Greg and Detective Mark Barnett, she was proven innocent.

So Sam knew what it was like, craving help and not getting what you need from the local place at the time you need it.

Was the FBI any better? Who knew? As good as the majority of the policemen and women were, Sam felt certain she had been on the short end of the stick a few times.

Her heart was with Betsey Adams.

Sam’s stomach twisted. If she and Greg could help the Adams, they would. They’d find a way.

Chapter 2

As soon as lunch was over, Samantha propelled Marty outside to play so the grown-ups could talk openly. Try not to get too dirty., she called as he ran out the back door. Shutting it behind her son, she said, Everyone ready to get down to business?

I’m getting the coffee, Margaret said. You come update us on what Jack and Betsey Adams said. Margaret had already begun making a fresh pot of brew and now she took clean cups out of the cupboard.

As you both know, Sam reported, their son disappeared from school Friday. The FBI and police have not been able to find even the first eyewitness or a clue of any kind leading to the kidnapper. It’s been forty-eight hours, and they haven’t been approached for a ransom either.

That’s not good, Greg intervened. That usually means the child was taken for other reasons.

Margaret stepped behind Greg. Gently laying her hands on his shoulders, she said, I hate the sound of that. There are too many ways this could go.

Sighing, Sam said, I know what you mean.

The three discussed the pros and cons of taking on this case, but in the end their hearts were in unison.

Sam keyed in Jack Adams’ cell phone number. We’ve agreed to help, but remember we are not making promises. Can we come to your house now?

By all means, please do. Jack immediately shared his address with Samantha. I’ll let security know to expect.

GREG WHEELED HIS CAR into the neighborhood where the Adams lived and was blocked by a closed electronic gate.

An armed security security guard stepped outside of the small building and approached the car. Are you expected? If so, by whom? Show me your ID.

Apparently Jack had been true to his word, since the guard recognized their names. When he was satisfied with their proof of identification, he stepped back into the small bricked building and activated the big wrought-iron gate to open slowly.

Wow, what security! Greg said to Sam, who sat in the passenger seat. Too bad the school wasn’t as secure as this neighborhood they live in.

The gate closed behind them. Moments later, the Mercury rolled into a large horseshoe drive of the Adams’ home. One police cruiser and a dark sedan were parked along the edge of the drive. Greg slid his silver car in behind the nondescript vehicle. Of course the police and the FBI would stay connected with this case until they’ve exhausted all possible ways of rescuing the boy. There would be twenty-four hour surveillance on the home waiting for any calls to come, as well as continuing to search for any clues.

It was now fifty hours and counting.

When Greg knocked on the door, Betsey ushered them into a formal living room. An FBI agent and a police officer are set up in the dining room along with their wiretapping machine while we all wait for a call. I don’t think it’s coming, but they insist on staying. FBI balked when we told them we’d called you in to help us, but it’s our lives and our son. The FBI agent insists on talking to you before you leave, though. I hope you don’t mind.

Of course not. I’m surprised they didn’t stop our involvement altogether, Greg said.

The intensity of the expression Betsey shot them highlighted her determination. No one was going to stop her from finding her son. I believe we’ll have more privacy in here. Is this okay?

Of course,  Sam said.

I hope I don’t sound too cold. I know they’re doing the best they can, but I don’t believe we’re going to hear anything, or we would have already. Correct? Besides, they’re only waiting for something to happen. I want someone who’s willing to go look and find him.

Her husband touched her shoulder and gave a slight squeeze.

Greg nodded. We understand.

I think more could be done, and I’m hoping you two can do it. I want my baby home. Betsey seemed to be doing all of the talking, but Jack’s eyes revealed he was in total agreement with everything she said.

We’re going to try and help, Sam said, trying to reassure them both.

They each took a seat as Greg took out his notepad and pen. Tell us, in your own words, what happened. We only know what we’ve read in the newspaper and what we’ve seen on television news.

Jack recounted the grueling incident while Greg scribbled notes.

And the FBI hasn’t found any clues? The found nothing at the school? No one saw the boy leave with anyone? Does the school have cameras? Greg’s questions shot out one after the other.

No. Nothing. And no cameras. Jack clenched his teeth and both his fists as he glanced at his wife. They should have had cameras.

Betsey moaned. She appeared to