Free CA 50.7 Little Girl Lost by Debra Webb Page A

sit with the little girl she believed with all her heart to be her daughter. But the specialist the hospital had called in had insisted it was likely best if the children were allowed to calm down and adjust to the situation. There was no searching for scars or asking questions.
    Jenna understood, but she didn't like it. Until she had proof that Diamond was her child there was nothing she could do.
    Cool fingers closed around hers. "You okay?"
    Jenna nodded and tried to dredge up a smile. Didn't really work. There was one thing she had to do before this situation got any more complicated with legal issues.
    "Thank you for coming." If Paul hadn't been here, she and the children would likely be dead. "You saved our lives."
    He'd already gotten a health inspector ID and was en route when she had called for his help. Those saved minutes had made all the difference.
    "You took pretty good care of me until help arrived," he reminded her. "I'd say we're even."
    Tears welled in her eyes. Whatever had happened in the past, whatever happened now, she would always love this man. She had been wrong to let her need to find her child overtake her life to such a degree that it was unhealthy for her and anyone else close to
    her. She should have stuck with the counseling and conducted her searches in more logical and rational manners.
    "I'm glad you signed the divorce papers." That was something else they had to get straight here and now.
    "You are?" He looked surprised.
    "Yes. You deserve a fresh start." She rubbed at the tears, frustrated that she couldn't do what needed to be done without bawling like a baby. "You deserve better than what you've had to deal with these past few years."
    "There's just one problem."
    Before she could ask what, there was a rap on the door and then it opened. A tall man with blond hair and blue eyes and who looked to be in his early thirties entered the room. He carried a briefcase. Probably a detective or an attorney. Though his casual dress didn't seem to fit either one.
    "Jim." Paul smiled. "You didn't have to come all this way to check up on me."
    The guest reached for Paul's outstretched hand. "I make it a point to ensure my investigators are well taken care of at a time like this." He nodded to Jenna. "Mrs. Thompson, I'm Jim Colby."
    Jenna offered her hand and he gave it a firm shake. "Paul's boss," she surmised. She recalled him mentioning the guy.
    "That would be me." Jim laughed. "But I think I'm more a coordinator of activities than a boss." He placed his briefcase on the chair by the bed and opened it. "A package was delivered to the office at noon today. After reviewing the contents and considering what the two of you had been through down here, I felt it was necessary to hand-deliver this."
    Paul accepted the bulky accordion-type file. "What is it?"
    Jenna wanted very much to know the answer to that, as well. She took the burden from him and deposited it on the tray table.
    "The return address was fictitious, but the name of the sender is one you'll recognize. Reginald Waters."
    Jenna stared at the file. "Will this help us find the truth about these children?"
    Jim nodded. "You'll still need the DNA tests for confirmation, but the girl called Diamond is—if Waters is to be believed—your daughter."
    The bottom dropped out of Jenna's stomach. She had hoped. She had prayed. "Who took her? Waters? But why?"
    "You'll find the entire story in there." He pointed to the thick file. "This Waters was the psychologist for the children. He was brought on board five years ago. The seven children the two of you rescued today have been moved three times to prevent being discovered."
    "He documented why the children were taken?" Paul asked, apparently as stunned as Jenna.
    "He did. He and the Hancocks worked for a research facility funded by a private military organization. Eight years ago the powers that be decided to do an extended study on certain abilities they believed children with autism possess—the