Free Mother's Milk by Charles Atkins

could last – or destroy – a lifetime. ‘Just some crazy kid who’s been hanging out with the family, I saw him once or twice when he was still in the system.’
    â€˜What does he look like?’ she repeated. ‘White Rasta? Dirty blond?’
    â€˜Yes, thin, might be good looking if he ever got near a bar of soap.’
    â€˜What’s his last name?’ she asked.
    â€˜I think it’s Blank,’ he said, hearing the click of a keyboard over the phone.
    â€˜This is very bad.’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’ he asked.
    â€˜Just listen, Chase,’ she said, ‘he barged into a meeting I was at this afternoon. He had a gun. Apparently the current head of the Forensic Evaluation Center – a Dr. Conyors, who’s a royal pain in the ass, but too smart to mess with – is his shrink. I’d also be willing to bet she was one of the two women sniffing around those dead kids. He was rambling about people trying to kill him. We’ve got a major problem …’ There was a pause. ‘And possibly an opportunity. At least we know where he is, and I’m willing to bet he had those cell phones on him. There’s no love lost between Dr. Conyors and me … If she’s trying to set me up, which I wouldn’t put past her, I swear she won’t live to regret it.’
    â€˜How do we get them back?’
    â€˜We don’t,’ she said, ‘you do, and do it tonight. You’ll need a key card to get in … I know where I can get you one. And while you’re at it, make sure that crazy Jerod never makes it to his next appointment. And if he’s told that shrink anything at all, take care of her.’

SIX
    B arrett ran her key card over her office door’s electronic pad. She didn’t hear the usual click and realized it was not latched. Her pulse quickened; something was wrong. She resisted the first rush of adrenalin as she turned the handle that should have been locked … had been locked, and now wasn’t. She opened the door thinking of all the reasons.
Maybe the cleaning crew, maybe Marla came in early, maybe …
She stood unmoving in the open door. ‘This can’t be.’ In shock, she surveyed her corner office, the early morning light leaving no doubt why the door was unlocked; someone had broken in and ransacked it. She stepped over the threshold, her senses like radar, was the perp still here? She listened intently, the hum of the air conditioner, the ding of the elevator and the doors opening from out in the hall and a buzzing from a poorly seated fluorescent bulb, but that was all. Moving silently, she swept through the space, her feet flat on the floor, her eyes taking in the busted locks on her filing cabinets and desk. Papers, reports, articles, and journals that had all been filed, shelved, or piled in tidy stacks by Marla were now spilled onto the floor. She flung open the door to the small closet and saw her just-in-case wardrobe of a go-to-court navy suit and workout clothes for kung-fu or a quick run tossed to the floor. Her heart skipped as she saw one of her sports bras plainly visible on top of the heap. She swallowed, not wanting to think about the hands that had touched it. What did they want? What were they looking for? Her eyes flew to the computer monitor; it was on. She always shut it down at the end of the day. She resisted the urge to check the history, realizing that maybe the perp had left prints. She circled behind her desk and into the tiny bathroom that was one of the perks of being the center’s director. Her breast pump still sat on the metal shelf over the sink, but the medicine cabinet was open and the contents, all the personal things she didn’t want in the open, from aspirin to tampons, had been spilled on the floor and into the sink. Back in the main office, her eye caught on the open door of the dorm-size refrigerator she kept under her desk. A white