Vanished (Private Justice Book #1): A Novel by Irene Hannon Read Free Book Online Page B

She pulled off her pumps and wiggled her toes to restore circulation. If she hadn’t had to attend that luncheon today and interview the celebrity keynote speaker, she’d never have subjected her feet to such torture. “And speaking of the new job, it’s going well.”
    “Good to know. Steven said the same when he called a couple of days ago.”
    “Where is he, again?” It was hard to keep up with her globe-trotting engineer brother.
    “Finishing up that job in Dubai. Must be quite a place. He told me a great story about a trip he took out to the desert. Rode a camel, ate dinner in a bedouin tent, watched a belly dancer perform, tried all kinds of exotic food and—”
    “. . . a great honor.” A voice from the television grabbed her attention, and she tuned out her father to listen.
    “And I thank God for the opportunity to do such worthwhile work with the talents he gave me.”
    Her heart stopped.
    Stuttered.
    Raced on.
    That sounded like the voice of her disappearing Good Samaritan.
    She scrambled to her feet and raced back to the kitchen. The man was finished speaking, but she caught a quick glimpse of him before the shot switched back to the anchor at the news desk. Mid-fiftyish and distinguished-looking, with a touch of gray at his temples. There was nothing familiar about him—except his voice.
    “That’s very inspiring.” The female anchor spoke to the reporter who’d covered the story and was now seated beside her.
    “Yes, it is. Dr. Blaine started Let the Children Come with his own seed money and a dream, and thousands of children have benefitted. As the governor said this afternoon, it would be hard to think of someone more deserving of the state’s humanitarian of the year award.”
    “Thanks, Brett.”
    The anchors moved on to the next story, but Moira continued to stare at the screen.
    “Moira? Moira, are you still there?”
    From a distance, her father’s question registered, and she forced herself to switch gears.
    “Yeah, I’m here.” Even as she responded, she was pulling out her laptop. “Look, can I call you later? Or tomorrow? I need to follow up on some information I just received.”
    “Sure, honey. But don’t work all weekend, okay? You need some downtime too. Remember what Euripides said: ‘The best and safest thing is to keep a balance in your life.’”
    Despite her distraction, Moira had to smile. Leave it to Dad to view—and dispense—parental advice through the lens of ancient Greece. He’d been studying and teaching classical philosophy for so long, the words of the earliest sages were as much a part of him as his lifelong passion for tying trout flies and attending Shakespearean plays.
    “I’ll file that away, Professor. Talk to you soon.”
    After pushing the end button, Moira set the phone on the dinette table and booted up her laptop, drumming her fingers on the polished oak as she waited for the computer to wake up. This would probably be a dead end too. A physician who’d won a humanitarian of the year award would never leave injured people at an accident scene.
    But the similarity in voices was too striking to ignore.
    The computer finished its start-up gyrations, and she opened her browser, then typed in “Dr. Blaine Let the Children Come.”
    There were plenty of hits.
    She started with the first one and worked her way down the screen.
    The more she read, the more she was convinced she was on the wrong track.
    Dr. Kenneth Blaine, age fifty-six, was a respected pediatric surgeon in St. Louis. Twelve years ago, after visiting rural Guatemala with a group of doctors on a humanitarian mission, he’d been so moved by the plight of the children that he’d founded Let the Children Come. The 501c3 organization was dedicated to raising funds for a free children’s clinic that provided medical care, nutritional assistance, and prenatal counseling in that country. Dr. Blaine continued to take a team of volunteer doctors to the clinic for two weeks every