Claire Elizabeth LeBlanc, all seven pounds, six ounces of her, came into the world at Dartmouth-Hitchcok Medical Center, in Keene, New Hampshire on June third. It was not without a struggle, and delay, far into the night. Both mother and daughter weathered the ordeal well. Papa Quinn, Howie and my wife and I were exhausted but jubilant. Celebratory cigars and wine came out and all other business suffered from total indifference.

Quinn was a foster home kid with no known family. Martha's father suffered a heart attack when she was in nursing school and her mom followed, from a broken heart, seven weeks later. Not only were there no grandparents, baby Claire Elizabeth was lacking aunts and uncles as well. Martha had no siblings and Quinn had no idea of what might have sprouted from his alien family tree.

Three weeks later, baby Claire Elizabeth LeBlanc was baptized at St. Bernard's Catholic Church with Betsy and Ben Gustefson as godparents. Howie was the only other person in attendance for the service.

After the birth we were set to take yet another day off as both Quinn and Martha were unavailable. However, Betsy noticed a California kidnapping that bore an uncanny resemblance to the Delaware, and later Alabama abductions, where a deputy sheriff was killed. Howie remained obsessed that he'd failed to nail the culprit and when he heard of this later case, he begged Quinn to take enough time away from his wife and new daughter for a single session. Quinn obliged, surprisingly without argument.

Lottie Lynn Summerfield was abducted from her home in the middle of night. We not only lacked an exact time, but the in the turmoil of Martha's delivery, Betsy didn't spot the announcement in her usual timely manner. In addition, the posting of the case was late. We learned later, at first the police were suspicious of the parents as they couldn't believe someone could enter a small house with sleeping adults and two boys in an adjoining room, and not be heard.

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It was now more than seventy-two hours after the kidnapping. Absent Martha's soothing voice, Howie wasn't able to drift off until our third try. Never the less, we kept trying. Once Howie was under, he broke a record for duration; one hour and eighteen minutes.

The young girl was taken from a modest track home outside of San Diego. Howie related to us in his monotone voice the houses were not well numbered and it took some time before he was sure he'd found the correct location. Once inside, he found the child sleeping alone in her room; a little princess, he called her.




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