When Wishes Collide Read Online Free Page A

generous visitation rights, especially after she'd agreed to go to rehab.
    He'd thought she'd recover, that she'd regain the part of herself that he'd fallen in love with. But his decision to keep her around had come back to haunt him. It was on one of those visits that Jennifer had taken Stephanie and gone on the run. Two years later, they were still missing. How Jennifer had managed to disappear so completely still baffled him.
    He parked his car at the end of the block and walked down the street. The liquor store was empty when he walked inside, the afternoon lull, he suspected. The clerk was a middle-aged man, who appeared to be more interested in the Giants game playing on the small screen behind the counter than what was going on in the store. He didn't bother to get up from his stool until Wyatt flashed his badge. Then he hopped to his feet.
    "What can I do for you?" the clerk asked.
    "I'm looking for these kids," he said, pushing the photo across the counter, "in particular, the smallest girl. Have you seen them?"
    "I don't know."
    "This picture is from your security camera. They bought candy here."
    The clerk shrugged. "There's an elementary and a middle school two blocks away. Kids come in here all the time for candy. There was a dozen or more of them in here half an hour ago. I might have seen them. I don't remember. Kids look the same to me."   He handed the picture back to Wyatt. "Maybe you should check with the school."
    He'd checked all the schools in the city several times in the past two years, but it was obviously time to check again. "I'll do that." He pulled out his wallet and took out a photo of Stephanie. "What about this girl?" The picture had been taken when Stephanie was six years old and just starting first grade. "She's a few years older now, so she might look a little different."
    "Sorry," the clerk said. "She doesn't ring a bell."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Like I said, I don't pay much attention to the kids."
    Wyatt blew out a breath of frustration. Eleven years as a cop had made him very aware of the fact that most people preferred not to look too closely at things going on around them, which made his job more difficult. "If you see any of the kids again, I want you to call me right away," he said, handing over his card.
    "All right," the clerk promised.
    "Thanks."
    He headed out the door, pausing on the sidewalk to regroup. Pulling out the picture of the three kids, he studied it again. There was no evidence of fear in their faces, but there was intensity. They were sharing one box of candy, and the boy seemed to be disciplined in the division of the pieces, which spoke to the idea that these kids didn't have much money. Their clothes also looked worn, as if they had come from a second-hand store. Focusing his gaze on the youngest child, he felt angry with himself for not being able to definitively say that she was his daughter. If only the image was sharper. He felt like he was looking through a cloudy lens.
    Other questions ran through his mind. If Stephanie was one of the kids, who were the other children, and why was she with them? And if she was out on her own, away from her mother, why hadn't she tried to contact him, or ask someone for help? She was eight, but he'd taught her how to dial 9-1-1 when she was five.
    The obvious answer was that either Stephanie didn’t think she was in trouble, or she didn't believe he would want to help her. God knew what lies Jen had told his daughter about him.
    Putting the photo back in his pocket, he spent the next hour canvassing the neighborhood. He talked to store merchants and the staff at the nearest elementary and middle school. Some people thought they had seen the kids, but no one could say for sure. By four-thirty, he realized his new lead was fizzling out fast – just like all the others.
    Heading back toward his car, he entered McClellan Square. In the center of the square was a large fountain that had been built by the nearby church, St.