As we sat, my eyes narrowed with suspicion. Placing my fingers upon the table, I asked, “What are you going to tell me? Whose head did you sever today?”
“No one’s,” he replied. “I never left the building.”
“Okay.”
“I told you that we took a series of journals from the Millers?”
“Yes.” A bud of excitement sprang to life. “Did you find Cindy?”
His expression remained solemn. “Mrs. Miller didn’t use names as a way to classify stock. I’m afraid it’s very difficult to know the identities.”
I let out a sigh. “I know it’s a long shot. Maybe if Cindy’s gone, we could find her child.”
“Mrs. Miller used a code. Math is my thing, and it took most of the day, but I cracked it.”
“You did?”
“It still doesn’t help with identities, but it does tell us the date, seller, and buyer. Of course, everything is abbreviated so at this point we can’t be one hundred percent certain of anything.”
“And you were working on this all day.”
He nodded and reached for my hands. “I can’t presume to know when or if your friend Cindy went through Dr. Miller’s or another seller.”
My mind went back to the cell-house basement. “We never talked about that.” My nose scrunched as the offending odors came to life in my memory. “We talked about life in abstract. We answered one another’s questions, confided in one another, and validated each other’s fears. It helped to know I wasn’t the only one feeling the way I did. We avoided talking about our reality; instead, it was the everyday pleasures of food and water. We talked a lot about the future, what we hoped to do, and about our babies—the life we wanted for them.”
“Maddie, I think I found you.”
“You mean in the journal?”
Patrick nodded again.
“How?”
“I know the date you disappeared. I was able to locate the date with KRO, which I believe is Kristine Roberto Ortiz.”
“Kristine sold me. Who bought me from Dr. Miller?”
“Again, this is all speculation and inference. You said that all of the women in the cell house were pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Mason did some follow-up, and we believe the cell house was owned and operated by Lewis Adkins, an attorney who worked in a family office for the McFaddens.”
“An attorney for a doctor’s office?” I asked, my only definition for a family office.
“No, this is an office made up of multiple professionals. Their sole purpose is working for one family. These practices still exist and usually include attorneys, accountants, wealth managers, fixers, and PR people to name a few. These offices exist to do everything necessary for their employer.”
“Didn’t you mention Adkins before?”
“I did. William Adkins was an attorney specializing in private adoptions. We found his name earlier in one of the journals.”
“You said there weren’t names.”
Patrick shook his head. “Not of the women or entities sold. The names we found were of people who were in contact with the Millers, such as the Ortizes—Kristine and Pastor Roberto. William Adkins was listed and crossed out. He’s deceased.
“Reid ran an exhaustive search and while Wm. Adkins, the adoption attorney, met an untimely demise around the time of McFadden’s arrest, we can’t connect him with the sales code Mrs. Miller used. We believe we can connect his brother, Lewis Adkins, who as I mentioned, also happened to work for McFadden.”
My head shook. “Unless he was a customer, I don’t recall a man—other than a few of Miss Warner’s guards—being routinely present at the cell house. How old would Lewis be?”
“Lewis? William, if he were still alive, he’d be in his late seventies. Lewis is a bit younger.”
I thought back as best I could. That would have made him late fifties to early sixties when I was there. “No one that age was at the cell house except customers.” My stomach twisted. “That first night at Dr. Miller’s there were four men, all of that age group. All gave off an air of wealth and superiority.”
“I can show you his picture,” Patrick offered.
I shook my head. “I wish I could help. I don’t think I could be considered a reliable witness. I wouldn’t have even known that the senator was there that first night if he hadn’t said something about it at the auction.” I tried to piece together what Patrick was telling me together. “So you’re saying Dr. Miller sold pregnant women to Lewis Adkins. We were kept at the cell house and then his brother, William, facilitated the adoption of the babies?”
“Yes.”
“And this William Adkins is deceased?”
“Yes. His brother Lewis is alive,” Patrick offered. “He’s retired and still lives in Chicago. They also have a sister about the same age. She’s alive and resides in a nursing home in Downers Grove.”
“His sister?” I asked. “Do you think that could be Miss Warner?”
“I do. Mason made a few visits to people who have stepped away from the business.” He shook his head. “It’s a long story. Anyway, they helped us track down other people years ago. Mason followed up and was given the name Wilma Adkins, a reclusive spinster.”
“Miss Warner was always there—always. To the outside that may appear reclusive. And you say that she’s in a nursing home?”
He squeezed my hands. “She’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I accessed her medical records—”
“How did you do that? Aren’t they private?”
Patrick’s head tilted. “They are. Anyway, she was diagnosed and admitted before her brother died. The notations called it rapid onset. Maddie girl, if she’s your Miss Warner, you won’t find your answer.”
“Will you take me to her? Downers Grove isn’t far, is it?”
“I’d rather not take you out until Ivanov is dealt with.”
“Dealt with?” I stood. “No, Patrick. Kristine, Pastor Roberto, and the Millers weren’t dangerous. Andros is. Please don’t risk your life.”
“He declared war on the Sparrows. This is about you, but it’s also about the Sparrows. Could you tell me what you know about Sasha Bykov?”
I took a deep breath as years of memories flashed in my mind. “Sasha has been with Andros since I arrived.”
“Worked his way up the ranks?”
“No. He’s always been at the top.” My thoughts went to the night I was ambushed. Sasha had been the one to drag Adrik’s dead body from our bedroom.
“Satisfied in his position?” Patrick asked.
I shrugged. “Loyal, yes. I don’t know about satisfied,” I replied honestly. “I can’t imagine him turning on Andros if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Could Sasha imagine you turning on Andros or you telling bratva secrets?”
I gave that a bit of thought. “Probably not. I never showed any sign of discontent.”
“Even though you weren’t content?” Patrick prompted.
“Yes.”