The 6th Target (Women's Murder Club 6)

We flashed our badges and were buzzed in.

The security office was glassed in on two sides, painted grimy beige on the other two, and furnished with two desks, unmatched file cabinets, three exit doors with keypad access, and two vending machines.

And there, sitting beside the stationmaster’s desk, was a little girl with silky yellow hair falling over her collar.

Her blue coat was unbuttoned. She had on a red sweater ove

r blue pants. And she wore shiny red shoes.

My heart did a little dance. We’d found her.

Oh, my God, Madison was safe!

The stationmaster, a big man, fortysomething with gray hair and matching mustache, stood up to introduce himself.

“I’m Fred Zimmer,” he said, shaking our hands. “And we found this little lady wandering all by herself about fifteen minutes ago, weren’t you, honey? I couldn’t get her to talk to me.”

I put my hands on my knees and looked into the little girl’s face. She’d been crying, and I couldn’t get her to look me in the eyes.

Her cheeks were dirt streaked and her nose was running. Her lower lip was swollen and she had a scrape along the side of her left cheek. I threw Richie a look. My relief at seeing Madison alive was swamped by a new concern for what had been done to her.

She looked so traumatized that I was having a hard time matching up her face to the image of the little dazzler I’d seen playing the piano on videotape.

Conklin stooped to the little girl’s level.

“My name is Richie.” He smiled. “Is your name Maddy?”

The child looked at Conklin, opened her mouth, and said, “Mahhh-dy.”

I thought, This little girl has been scared to death.

I took her small hands in mine. They were cold to the touch, and she stared right through me.

“Call EMS,” I said softly, trying not to frighten her further. “Something’s wrong with this child.”

Chapter 45

CONKLIN AND I WERE PACING RESTLESSLY outside the hospital’s emergency room when the Tylers rushed in and embraced us like family.

I was feeling high. One part of this frightening, god-awful story was over. And I was hoping that right after she saw her parents, Madison would come back to herself. Because I had some questions for her — starting with, “Did you get a good look at the guys who kidnapped you?”

“She was sleeping when we last looked in on her,” I told the Tylers. “Dr. Collins just stopped by and said he’ll be back in . . . let’s see . . . about ten minutes.”

“I have to ask,” Elizabeth Tyler said softly, “was Maddy harmed in any way?”

“She looks like she’s been through an ordeal,” I said to Madison’s mom. “She wasn’t given any kind of invasive exam because the doctors were waiting for your consent.”

Elizabeth Tyler covered her mouth with both hands, stifled her tears.

“You should know she’s barely said anything to anyone.”

“That’s not like Maddy.”

“Maybe she was warned not to talk or she would be hurt —”

“Oh, God. Those animals!”

“Why would they kidnap Maddy, then abandon her without trying to get a ransom?” Tyler was asking as we entered the ER.