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milk isn't doing the trick, so I brought home some herbal teas from work.   Maybe we can try it, hmm?   Try and get some sleep tonight?"
    "Mom?"
    "Yes, sweetie?"
    "Who is she?"
    "Who?"
    "The girl.   The one the doctor was asking about?   The one I talk about in my sleep?   Carmen?"
    Laura's lips went tight, the question caught her off guard.   She tugged at a loose thread in Rebecca's sweater. "No one."   Rebecca seemed unsatisfied with that answer, but went back to her painting.
    "Rebecca, everyone has nightmares.   Yours are just worse than most, that's all.   But they'll pass.   I promise." Laura kissed the top of Rebecca's head, embracing her, growing emotional.
    Her eyes landed on a framed photograph Rebecca kept on her dresser.   There was Laura, her ex-husband Richard - tattooed and muscular, and Rebecca in the middle.   All smiling, happier times.   Rebecca had drawn a pink heart around the photograph.   Laura allowed her to keep it out on display.   She didn't want her own pain to become Rebecca's.   He would always be her father.
    Laura stared at Rebecca's tiny face in the picture, Rebecca winking at the camera, something she did in virtually every photograph.
    "I'm sorry, baby.   I screwed everything up, didn't I?"

CHAPTER 9

    Jack had fallen asleep at his desk.   The fluorescent lights blinded, like something sharp jabbing his brain.   He winced, slowly lifting his head, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek peeled away.  
    He looked down bleary eyed at his notes, the text started to move like tiny ants.   He shook off the cobwebs, trying to pick up where he left off.   His last thought had been the realization that he'd read the same sentence over and over.   He dragged his palms down his face and leaned back in his chair, any attempt to continue would just be grinding metal.   He rubbed his dark, swollen eyes.  
    He felt each tick of the clock, each second wasted.   On his desk was a stack of gruesome crime scene photographs, not for the faint of heart.   Even Jack could only stare at them a brief moment before his stomach turned.   Beside those was a single picture of Angelina.   Her bright shining smile inspired and haunted him at the same time.   He dreaded the day he would have to move her picture into the other pile.   He pushed himself to continue.
    Harrington entered the office.  
    "Victor's state appointed council threatened a harassment suit if he's questioned again without being formally charged."
    Jack turned to Harrington, holding up a report. "Take a look at these."
    Harrington flipped through, "Natalie Gonzalez, Cassandra Ruiz… What about them?"
    "Both Hispanic, same age as Angelina, each one held captive several months, murdered, then dumped, no DNA, no trace evidence, nothing."
    "Gang related."
    "No, that's a stereotype.   Someone's out there, targeting these girls.   Easy prey, illegal, family afraid to come forward to report them missing.   Maybe whoever killed these girls took Angelina too."
    "What makes you think Sandoval didn't do it?"
    "Keeping someone captive takes privacy.   Victor lives in an upstairs apartment with seven other people."
    "Now who's stereotyping?" Harrington joked.  
    "There's a chance she could still be alive."
    "Held captive?" Harrington said skeptically.
    Jack handed him an envelope.  
    "What's this?"  
    "Results from the most recent DNA search.   No matches.   Searched all the border state databases; Ohio, Illinois.   At least we know Angelina's not a Jane Doe somewhere."
    "What's your point?"
    Jack stood up and gazed at his map on the wall.   He placed a colored thumbtack into a location.   There were several others that he'd used to dot the areas where the other bodies had been found, each thumbtack an X marks the spot .  
    "I got a similar case hit up in Ann Arbor.   Lisa Delgado, 18.   Same M.O." Jack said as he placed a thumbtack to mark the spot her body was found, standing back to examine the pattern