by Karen Rose
“I know. But I keep thinking, what if they never saw her?”
His tension was so palpable that Brutus whimpered inside her bag. Daisy gave her a pet with one hand while tightening her hold on Gideon with the other. “Then we’ll try towns within a hundred-mile radius of Mt. Shasta. But first we’ll show them the photos of the other escapees. You and Mercy might be the only ones to have made it to this bus station, Gideon. But there are other stations and other ways out of the area. The FBI will keep looking. You’ll keep looking. We’ll keep looking. I promise.”
“I know. But thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “Really.”
She smiled up at him, encouragingly, she hoped. “You’re welcome.”
He let go of her hand and slid his arm around her waist, tugging her close. “Let’s do this.”
An older man sat behind the Plexiglas ticket counter, reading a paperback novel. He looked up as they approached, then straightened his spine, his eyes growing sharper.
Because Gideon walked like exactly what he was—a career cop. Didn’t really matter which badge he carried. “Excuse me, sir. We’d like to ask you some questions.”
We. That felt . . . nice.
The man pushed his glasses up his nose. “You can ask.” His tone clearly said that he might choose not to answer.
“I’m Special Agent Gideon Reynolds,” Gideon said, pulling out his badge.
“With the FBI,” the man said mildly. “Ask your questions, Special Agent Reynolds.”
Gideon slid a copy of the aged photo of Eileen through the slot in the Plexiglas. “I’m looking for this woman. She’s missing.”
The man tilted his head, squinting now at the photo while Daisy held her breath.
After what seemed like an eternity, the man slowly nodded. “Yes. I think so. She didn’t look exactly like this, but . . . the eyes. Same eyes.” He slid the photo back to Gideon. “Would have recognized her sooner if you’d added bruises on her face and a black eye.” He tapped his right eye. “This one.”
Gideon flinched. “She was bruised?” he asked, his voice harsh and hurt.
The man nodded, again slowly. “You might also add on the necklace she was wearing.”
“What kind of necklace?” Daisy asked.
The man gave her a long measuring look, almost as if gauging her trustworthiness. “A locket,” he finally said.
Daisy released the breath she’d been holding. “Did you notice the chain?”
“Hard not to. It was thick. Like those rappers wear.”
“Heavy, like a security chain? On a door?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah. About.”
Beside her, Gideon tensed. “Do you remember where she went?”
The man gave Gideon the same appraising look. “Why do you want to know?”
Gideon swallowed. “Because she’s missing and I’m afraid she’s met with foul play. You can make a copy of my badge if you like. My boss will confirm I’m who I say I am.”
“I think I will.”
“Ask for Special Agent in Charge Tara Molina. I know she’s in because I talked to her earlier this morning.”
They stood there waiting while the man behind the Plexiglas made his call, inquiring about Gideon to his boss, his head bobbing occasionally as he talked. Finally, he hung up and inclined his head to Gideon.
“She speaks well of you. Says I can be confident that you’ll handle whatever I tell you with ‘integrity and discretion.’” He folded his hands. “She bought a ticket to Portland. One way. This was about three months ago.”
“Oh.” Gideon grasped Daisy’s hand. “Portland.”
“Was she alone, sir?” Daisy asked.
“No. She was with a fella from . . .” He scratched his head. “You got a few minutes?”
“We have as long as you need,” Daisy said firmly.
They waited again as the man searched his computer. It took him ten minutes to find what he was looking for, mainly because he had to break twice to sell actual tickets to actual customers.
“Got it,” he announced. He printed something up, then slid it under the Plexiglas to Gideon. “This is the guy that purchased her ticket. His credit card, anyway.”
“Gale Danton,” Gideon read. “How do you remember him so clearly?”
One side of the man’s mouth lifted. “The card belongs to a man who lives outside Macdoel, which is barely a dot on the map.”
Daisy found Macdoel on her map app. “Northwest of here, on Highway 97.” She glanced up at Gideon. “Within view of Mt. Shasta.”
Gideon’s chest rose and fell, the only indication he’d felt the impact of her words. “And you remember this man, why?” he asked.
“Because he bought her a ticket with his credit card and she was arguing with him. Said he’d already been too nice, giving her a ride. That she didn’t want to owe him money.”
Gideon nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “She wouldn’t want to borrow from anyone. Why did he? Give her a ride and buy her a ticket?”
“I think he was just a genuinely nice guy,” the old man said. “He was worried about her. Gave her his phone number and some cash. Told her to take her time paying it back. And if she was forced to do anything she didn’t want to do, that she should call him and he’d help her.”
Gideon frowned. “How old was he?”
“My age.” He sighed. “I was worried, too. Like maybe he was setting her up to meet a pimp or something. I shut down my register and took a break. Just happened to sit behind them, so’s I could hear what they said. The guy told her that his daughter had run away once and a stranger had helped her get home. He was paying it forward.”
Gideon was holding the paper with the man’s credit card information in a white-knuckled grip. “Did she get on the bus for Portland?”
“She did. She almost went south to Sacramento, but she got heads.”
Gideon had gone silent, so Daisy asked, “Tails would have been Sac?”
“Exactly. I never saw her again.”
His emphasis on “her” was startling. “Did the nice man come back? Mr. Danton?”
“No. Not him.”
Daisy had a terrible sense of dread. “Was it a man with an eyepatch?”
The old man nodded. Just once.
Daisy felt Gideon tense once again. She put her arm around his waist and leaned into him, more to hold him up. “Did you tell him where she went?” she asked.
“No. I got a bad vibe. He was . . . menacing. I remembered the girl’s bruises and thought maybe he’d been the one to put them there.”
“He was,” Gideon said grimly. “You did the right thing. Thank you.”
“Thank you so very much,” Daisy echoed.
“I hope you find her,” the man said.
“Us too,” Daisy said, but she didn’t have much hope. Neither did Gideon, not after seeing what Trish’s killer had done to her.
She waited until they were back in Gideon’s car before turning to him. “Where to next? If she still had the locket when she arrived that morning, it’s likely that she was still wearing it when she got on the bus. She probably didn’t hock it here in Redding.”
“Probably not.” He started the car. “We’re going to see Mr. Gale Danton.”
“I thought as much. He might be able to tell us where she came from. Or at least where she was when he found her. That could dramatically reduce your search area for Eden.”
He nodded. “Yes to all that. But he’ll also know where she settled after arriving in Portland.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Eileen borrowed money from him. She wouldn’t have been able to rest until she’d paid it back. He would have received some communication from her, even if it was a money order or wired money.”
Daisy didn’t want to point out that he hadn’t see
n Eileen in seventeen years and that people did change. Talking to this guy was worth a shot and she could get behind it. “Money orders or wires we can trace. Excellent. Who are you calling?” she added when he punched a screen on his cell phone.
“My boss.” He put the phone to his ear and waited, clearly not wanting her to hear the whole conversation.
Daisy couldn’t begrudge this, given how upset she’d been at overhearing his last conversation with the woman. Oh, Trish, I’m so sorry. Marked like that. Tortured like that. She scooped Brutus from her bag and cuddled her under her chin. Turning to look out the window, she tried not to cry again, focusing instead on a man striding to a beige car parked at the far end of the lot.
He’d been one of the people to buy a bus ticket while they waited for the man behind the glass to find the record of Eileen’s bus ticket purchase. Idly she wondered why he was leaving again. Maybe he forgot something in his car.
“It’s Reynolds.”
Gideon’s voice brought her back and she turned from the window to watch his profile. This had been devastating for him, too. Seeing Trish. Wondering if his friend had undergone the same fate. Finding out she’d been battered and bruised when she’d arrived at the bus station.
“Yes,” he said into the phone. “Thank you for vouching for me. He gave us some useful information.” He told his boss what they’d learned. “Can you run a check on Gale Danton of Macdoel?” He listened for a few seconds. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Ending the call, he leaned his head against the headrest. “Macdoel had a population of 133 in the last census.”
“I know. I looked it up, too. Your boss is going to do a background check?”
He nodded. “I don’t want to walk into an ambush. Especially if you’re with me.”
Daisy reached for his hand that gripped the parking brake like it was a lifeline. “Gideon.” She kissed his knuckles. “I’m not going to ask if you’re all right because you’re clearly not. But what can I do to help you?”
“You’re doing it.” He brought her hand to his cheek and held it there. “Thank you for back there, at the ticket counter. I hope I didn’t break your fingers.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
He glanced over at her as he pulled out of the lot. “I know.”
And that was one of the nicest compliments she’d ever received.
REDDING, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 9:40 A.M.
Well, shit. At least he knew why they’d come to Redding. Searching for little Miriam, who’d insisted her name was Eileen.
I knew that locket was important. Dammit.
He’d stood behind them in line at the ticket counter for as long as he’d dared, agreeing to buy a ticket to the next stop when the man behind the Plexiglas had asked if he could help him. He hadn’t wanted to arouse suspicion.
It hadn’t been a terribly expensive fare and well worth the price to hear what Reynolds was up to. The Fed was chasing that damn locket.
Chasing me.
Reynolds had to be stopped. And if that meant Daisy died with the Fed, he’d have to make himself okay with that. But he’d avoid that if he possibly could.
He found the town of Macdoel on his map app. Excellent. There was lots of open land in between here and there—and only one road to get there. And even if there were a decent cell phone signal, it would take forever for help to arrive. If the man survived.
If not, there was a helluva lot of land to hide a body. Or two, if he had to. He’d done it before.
And no witnessing bystanders to be loose ends, except for Daisy. It was perfect.
GRASS LAKE, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 11:25 A.M.
Eileen might have come to Sacramento, but for the flip of a coin. The words kept circling in Gideon’s mind. Had she searched for him? Hoped he’d help her?
Had she escaped the nightmare of Eden only to have fallen prey to another? God. Please let her be alive somewhere. Please.
“Gideon?” Daisy’s voice broke into the turbulent stream of his thoughts.
He glanced away from the road, surprised to see a laptop resting on her knees. He hadn’t even noticed her taking it out of its case. Of course, the sight of Brutus curled up in the open collar of her coat was no surprise at all.
“Yes? What’s wrong?”
“Your phone is buzzing.”
He hadn’t noticed that, either. God. He had to get his head back in the game. He grabbed his phone from where it was charging, not taking the time to look at the caller ID. “Reynolds.”
“This is Molina.” His boss’s voice was calm on the surface, but there was an undercurrent of urgency that immediately sharpened Gideon’s focus. “I ran a check on your Mr. Gale Danton of Macdoel, California.”
“And?” he prompted when she let the answer dangle.
“He has no criminal record. He appears to be exactly as he described himself—a man whose daughter once ran away and was returned by strangers. He filed a missing-person report on his sixteen-year-old daughter nine years ago. She returned home by bus about three weeks later. She was unhurt, but had been helped by ‘kind strangers.’ That’s all the police report said.”
“Good to know. Thank you, ma’am.” He was about to end the call when she cleared her throat. “Is there more?”
“Yes. I had Agent Schumacher run a search on crime scenes where a bleached knife was found. So far she’s come up with three additional victims, bringing the total to six—seven including Miss Hart. The three she found did not have letters carved into their bodies, though. So far, they’re the earliest victims, so perhaps he hadn’t started carving them yet.”
“I see.” Gideon glanced at Daisy, who was watching him with careful eyes. She’d nearly fallen apart when he’d told her about the marks on Trish’s skin. He did not want to hurt her any further. “I’m driving right now. Is it possible for you to e-mail me the information?”
“I already did. I figured you’d be driving. I wanted to let you know that these victims were also women between the ages of twenty and thirty-five.”
“And like Trish,” he murmured. “And Eileen.” And Daisy, if she hadn’t gotten away.
“And Miss Dawson, had she not escaped,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “So far we know of seven victims, including Miss Dawson’s friend, Miss Hart. There could be more who have not been found, like Eileen. These additional three have been added to the open investigation. So far, we’ve found no reports of any women who’ve gotten away other than Miss Dawson. They came from different cities, disappearing from various places—work, home, bars. One was last seen in the park walking her dog. All were found in their homes with the bleached knife in the drainer. All lived alone. Half had letters carved into their torsos and all had a bleached knife at the crime scene, but there were no other obvious similarities between the victims.”
“Which cities?”
“So far we have Seattle, Chicago, Miami, and then some small towns like Niagara Falls, New York; Carlisle, Pennsylvania; and Ellicott City, Maryland.”
“Over how much time?”
“Five years so far. They have different body types, different hair color, different ethnicities. The bleached knife left in the dish drainer was the only commonality between all seven.”
“‘SY,’ ‘EY,’ ‘N,’ and ‘D,’” Gideon murmured.
Beside him, Daisy blinked hard. “Sydney?”
“Yes,” Molina said. “That’s what we’ve assumed.”
Gideon pulled the phone away, glancing over to find Daisy looking resolutely grim. “Do you know anyone named Sydney, Daisy?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her, then returned his attention to his boss. “We got nothing on Sydney.”
“It was too much to hope for, I suppose.” Molina sig
hed. “We have a multistate serial on our hands. I’m joining our field office with Seattle’s open investigation. I’d like you on the team. When can you come back?”
Gideon frowned, torn. He didn’t want to leave Daisy unprotected. “Daisy still needs protection. She won’t be safe until the man who’s already murdered seven women is caught. But the Sokolovs will pick up guard duty for now, I’m sure.” Plus her father was coming to town. Gideon was certain that Dawson wouldn’t let Daisy out of his sight. “I’ll be back in the office first thing tomorrow. I’ll need to go to Portland ASAP. Eileen is still our best lead, and Portland was her last known address.”
“I’ll ask my clerk to book your flight. Agent Schumacher will go with you. Tomorrow afternoon?”
He’d worked with Joslyn Schumacher on cases in the past. She was a solid agent. “Thank you. Tomorrow will be fine.”
“This is interstate now, so the FBI will lead the investigation. But you’ll be teaming up with Detectives Rhee and Sokolov.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be in your office first thing in the morning. I’ll be back in the city by this evening, so I can come in earlier if you need—” He swallowed a surprised grunt as the car hit ice on the road and fishtailed.
“Agent Reynolds?” Molina asked sharply. “Gideon?”
He got the car back under control, but his pulse was pounding in his head. “Sorry. It’s icy here. I thought my car could handle it without chains, but I should have put them on.” They were actually lucky the road was still as passable as it was this far into the mountains. Hell, he was lucky to have a signal at all. “I need both hands for this.”
“Then go, but call me when you finish with Mr. Danton.”
“Will do.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone with a sigh. “Dammit.”
“You have to go back?” Daisy asked.
“By tomorrow. They’ve found more victims.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I figured they would.”
“I’ll make sure you’re protected.”
She smoothed her palm over his knee. “I figured you would.”
