Private L.A. (Private 6)

“No sign of sexual or physical mistreatment,” Parks said. “They’ve been nourished, well hydrated, and generally well cared for, other than the fact that they lived in the same clothes for five days. Our blood work confirmed Dr. Kloppenberg’s findings.”

“I heard scopolamine and Percocet,” Justine said, looking to Sci.

Kloppenberg nodded. “A modern update on a nineteenth-century cocktail German doctors used to give women in labor. They called it twilight sleep. Don’t be surprised if they don’t remember much.”

“That’s the point of the stuff, isn’t it?” Townsend asked.

“Pretty much, Special Agent,” Parks replied. “Beyond that, Miguel has several bruises on his knees and shins. Malia suffered a sprained wrist. Jin appears untouched. And all three had puncture wounds that indicate someone had run IVs into them.”

Justine looked at Jack and Fescoe. “Beverly Center security tapes?”

Jack nodded. “Lots there. Men wearing dark hoodies brought them in off San Vicente Boulevard in the wheelchairs at ten fifteen a.m. They used elevators to get the children to level six. A camera outside the Apple Store showed the children were left there no more than three minutes before we arrived. The iPhones in their laps were junk knockoffs. No prints on the wheelchairs or the phones. Sci collected epithelial samples from their clothes.”

“No hits yet,” Kloppenberg said.

Justine looked at Townsend, who said, “Not surprisingly, the media is going insane over this. It’s gone viral and global. They’re giving it much more attention than the No Prisoners killings and the pier explosion.”

“What did you expect?” Camilla Bronson said snidely. “I’ve done nothing but field calls since Bobbie Newton went live.”

Justine said, “Those children just went from fishbowl life to circus life.”

“You’ll have to prepare them for that,” Townsend said.

“They won’t be exposed to any circus if I have anything to do with it,” said Terry Graves hotly. “I won’t stand for it.”

“Neither will I,” Sanders said.

“Absolutely not,” the Harlows’ publicist said.

Justine softened, said, “Well, good. That’s a start.”

Chapter 54

MALIA LAY IN the bed on the right, Jin on the left, and Miguel in the middle. They were eating and watching a rerun of Family Guy. All three children glanced at Justine suspiciously when she entered. Small cameras had been set up, feeding the discussion out to the screens and recorders in the common room.

“I’m Justine,” she said, turned off the television, set her purse on the floor.

“You with the police?” Malia asked.

“Working for them. And for the FBI.”

“Where are Jennifer and Thom?” Jin asked.

Justine thought it odd that she referred to her parents by their first names. Then again, nearly everyone referred to the Harlows by their first names. But was that just Jin? Hadn’t Miguel called out for his mommy?

“We don’t know,” Justine admitted at last. “I’m part of a team trying to find your parents. We hoped you could help us.”

Miguel set down the last of his burger and closed his eyes, hiding his mouth behind his hand, saying nothing.

“I don’t remember anything,” Malia said.

“Me neither,” Jin said.

Miguel still said nothing.

“Smells awful good in here,” Justine said, settling into a chair. “What did you get for dinner?”

“Bacon cheeseburger,” Malia mumbled.