Hi, baby. How u doin? School going ok?
She set her phone aside, not expecting a reply right away, so she was surprised when her phone chirped. She snatched it up. Not Isaac. Holly.
Hey, Mom. I’m in between classes. Talked to Isaac today?
Just sent him a text. Why?
No reason. Just worried about him. Wish he’d taken another day. You think he’s ok?
Alyssa smiled at the way her daughter used proper capitals and punctuation, even in her texts.
I’m sure he’s fine, honey.
I’ve sent him like five texts already. He answered my first two only because they were before class started.
Five texts? Who was the mother here?
And how’d he seem to you?
Said he was fine, but you know Isaac.
He knows to call if it gets to be too much for him.
Alyssa watched the ellipsis symbol appear on her screen as Holly typed out another text.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this because he’ll be mad if he finds out, but last night, he told me he can’t stop looking over his shoulder. He’s afraid it’s only a matter of time before he comes back and gets him again. And you.
Alyssa’s stomach plummeted to her feet, but before she could think what to say, another text appeared from Holly.
You think he’ll be embarrassed if I’m waiting for him after school?
Her belly had dropped to her toes just as her heart leaped into her throat. As much as those two bickered, they were also fiercely protective of each other.
I think he’d pretend to be, but secretly, I think he’d like it. But Dad’s picking him up today.
Okay. Well, I’ve got to get to class. Message me if you hear from him, okay?
Ok. Love you, sweetie.
Love you.
Setting her phone to the side, she realized everyone was there, and they were all looking at her with varying degrees of concern etched on their faces, waiting expectantly. Her eyes went from the sketches in front of her to the whiteboard covered with images of missing women to the printout of Hunter Jenkins’ photo. As she studied them, pieces of the puzzle began to move in her mind as something clicked, and she straightened as the idea took shape.
She looked to Cord. ‘Do you remember what Isaac told us his kidnapper said when he learned about the Amber Alert?’
‘He said the man told him Hunter Jenkins was dead,’ Cord said.
Alyssa nodded, excited now as her theory developed. ‘And what else?’
Cord’s brows drew together as he tried to guess where Alyssa was leading him. ‘He said we won’t find the old man they think is Hunter Jenkins, either.’
‘Right.’ Alyssa’s eyes swept the room. ‘He emphasized think. Why would he do that?’ She waited for someone else on her team to catch on.
It was Hal who first reached the same conclusion she had. ‘Because Hunter Jenkins wasn’t only an alias, it was an elaborate and effective disguise.’
The second he said it, everyone sat up straighter, like a puppet master had yanked on their strings, and they immediately began speaking over one another, and although Alyssa couldn’t be positive she was right, her gut told her she was.
‘Well, that might explain why I thought he was a strange-looking fellow,’ Joe said, recalling the comment he’d made after interviewing Jenkins right after Callie McCormick’s disappearance.
‘Well, earlier today, I’d already put in the request to get busy pulling aerial photos based on descriptions Isaac could remember. Jenkins – or whoever he really is – has to have property somewhere in the Sandia’s, so I’d already decided to start there. I’ll let you know as soon as I get a hit,’ Hal added.
‘Thanks for getting on that already.’ Now that she had a thread to pull, Alyssa was finding it difficult to stay still. She wanted to be out there hunting down the man who’d hurt her son.
Tony jumped into the conversation. ‘Since we’re running with the idea that Jenkins and the guy who kidnapped Isaac are the same, then we should consider the fact that Callie McCormick was found in the Jemez, quite a ways from the Crest where Isaac was rescued, so our suspect either drove all the way over there to drop the body, or he has another property out that way. I think it might be prudent to check out both areas.’
Hal nodded. ‘I’ll let my guy know.’
‘What we need now,’ Alyssa said, ‘is to find a link connecting these women.’ She pointed to the white board where magnets held the pictures of the women they suspected might be victims of Hunter Jenkins. ‘With the exception of Rhonda Dupres and Sandra Jackson, none of these ladies even lived in the same area. And we can’t base a case on blonde hair.’
‘But, isn’t it popular opinion that serial killers target the same type of woman?’ Liz asked.
‘Yes, but if that’s what we’re going on, then I think we’d have a hell of a lot more missing or murdered women on our hands. There has to be something else.’
‘Playing devil’s advocate here,’ Cord said, ‘but couldn’t it be that the only link is in the killer’s head?’
Everyone nodded in agreement. ‘There’s that,’ Liz said. ‘And based on what Isaac told us, we know he was trying to draw you in, make you come to him. So, the real question is why? What was it that made him choose you? Is he changing his MO, and if so, again, I ask why?’
‘Well, if we could find the bastard, we could just ask him, couldn’t we?’ Alyssa groused, not caring that she sounded bitchy. She massaged her temples, remembering the first time she’d met Rafe McCormick, how he’d done a double take when she’d walked in, how Mearl Leroy had stared, head cocked to the side as he studied her, as if he’d seen her before. ‘She reminds me of you.’ ‘There’s a slight resemblance, back when you had blonde hair.’ ‘I think you remind her of Callie.’ Several people had commented about the similarities between Callie and herself. So maybe it was time to delve into that.
There was a brief knock before Ruby pushed open the door. ‘Alyssa, a package just arrived for you,’ she said, carting a cardboard box in her arms.
‘What’s this?’ she asked as she stood, forehead crinkling. ‘Anyone have a pair of scissors or knife I can borrow?’
Liz slid a fingernail file over, and Alyssa sliced the tape, opening the box.
‘What the hell?’ she muttered.
‘What is it?’ Cord asked, already walking her way.
Alyssa, bewildered, pulled out the first item – a box of Booberry cereal – and set it on the table. Next, she grabbed a container of grape Kool-Aid and placed it beside the cereal. By then, the team had gathered around. ‘What in the world? A pack of candy cigarettes? I haven’t seen these things since I was a kid. They were Timmy’s favorite,’ she said. ‘Well, except he preferred strawberry Kool-Aid over grape.’ As she said it, that feeling of failure settled like a well-worn blanket around her shoulders. If they’d had strawberry that day, Timmy would’ve gone inside with her instead of staying… She didn’t finish the thought.
Cord peered into the open box and pointed to a greeting card leaning against the side. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
Alyssa yanked the card out and flipped it open so she could read it aloud. I’ve been thinking about you. That’s when she noticed the photo. She recognized it as one that had been taken a few weeks before Timmy had gone missing. The two of them stood next to their bikes, frozen, goofy grins on their faces. Except now, Timmy had a jagged cut scratched across his. The image was a stark reminder of the brutal way he’d been ripped from their lives.
A sick feeling settled over her as she was drawn back to another time. ‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ she said to her team, ‘but, I think Isaac’s kidnapping has something to do with my brother’s murder. But what? And why?’
At her words, Cord grabbed the box. ‘No return address. We need to notify the captain,’ he said, already throwing open the door and heading that way.
Alyssa wasn’t even aware of sinking into her chair.
Monday, April 8
The package, its contents, and what it all meant was still weighing on her mind when Alyssa got home that evening. Her family was sitting around the table, and her heart ached as she watched them. She removed her gun, and then decided not to put it away just yet. ‘I’m going to go change,’ she told her family. ‘I’ll be back down in a minute to help with dinner.’
She skirted the table, avoiding her husband’s eyes. It didn’t work, and he followed her upstairs. ‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked, concern evident in his voice.
‘Not a matter of wanting to,’ she said, trading her khakis for a pair of yoga pants. ‘Just not sure how to tell you,’ she admitted. Her eyes strayed over to the potted plant resting in the corner of her room, where one of the few pictures of Timmy she allowed out stood behind one of the giant leaves, hidden from plain view.
Finally, looking up, she said, ‘We’ll talk about it later, okay?’ She waited for his nod, then headed back downstairs.
To her surprise, Holly walked up and hugged her mom from behind. ‘What’s that for?’ she asked. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate it.’
‘You just looked like you needed one.’ She rested her hand on her mom’s shoulder, and whispered, ‘You’re going to catch this guy, Mom. I know you will.’
Alyssa’s heart melted into a puddle at her feet. ‘How did you get so smart, my beautiful daughter?’ she asked through her tears.
‘I have a great female role model. She’s a detective. You should meet her sometime. I could introduce you, if you’d like.’
Alyssa turned and wrapped her arms around her daughter. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. I needed that today.’ When she stepped away, she said, ‘I’d better get dinner started before my role model status gets demoted.’
Holly laughed and said, ‘I’m going to work on some homework for a while, if that’s okay.’
‘Yep. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.’
She was replaying the contents of the box and the note in her head, trying to fit the new pieces of the puzzle in with the rest when Isaac startled her.
‘Need help, Mom?’ he asked as he grabbed an onion, a knife, and the cutting board.
Alyssa gasped and dropped the spatula she was holding when she whirled around. She covered her racing heart with her hand. ‘Good Lord, you scared me. I didn’t hear you sneak in here.’
‘Sorry,’ Isaac said sheepishly. ‘I just wanted to see if you needed help. I could cut the vegetables for the salad, if you want.’
Wondering what he really had on his mind, she said, ‘That would be nice, thanks.’
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes before Isaac said, ‘I think I need to see someone. But it kind of makes me feel weak.’
Alyssa watched liquid pool in his eyes as that haunted look crept back over his handsome features, relieved that he’d been the one to bring up the topic of seeking help. Every night she listened as he tossed and turned, crying out for help – for her – in his sleep. She stopped stirring the sauce on the stove and angled her body to face him. ‘I know; I understand,’ she whispered softly. ‘I felt the same way when my college roommate convinced me to see a therapist about my… my brother.’ An image of Booberry cereal and candy cigarettes danced in her mind.
‘Did it help?’ Isaac asked, using his shoulder to wipe away the tear that trailed down his cheek.
Alyssa let her mind go back to one day in Dr. Blanchard’s office when she’d been pouring her soul into the air. When she was finished, he’d stared at her, and eyes steady on hers, asked, ‘Do you wish you’d been killed instead?’
She remembered the shock she’d felt at his question. ‘What? No! Why would you even ask that?’
‘Then stop letting it kill you, Alyssa. You were a nine-year-old girl. Still single digits. You were dealt a crappy hand. You wanted Kool-Aid. You got it. The guy who kidnapped your brother? He’s the one who killed him, not you. Do your brother a favor and instead of wallowing in your guilt, do something about it, do something to make him proud. Don’t let your brother’s killer kill you, too. I’m not saying forget it; I’m saying make something good come out of it.’
She’d been horrified at the thought of making something good come out of her little brother’s murder, but she understood what Dr. Blanchard meant. And the more she thought about his words, the more certain her career path became. So, eager to escape the dark memories of the past she couldn’t change, she and Brock had finished college and moved to New Mexico where she began her career in law enforcement.
She could still remember the high she’d gotten the first time she rescued a little girl who’d been snatched from the playground; how it felt to snap the cuffs on the perpetrator, the relief she’d felt when the girl was returned to her parents. She’d helped give that family the happy ending hers never got.
Now, putting her hand against her son’s cheek, she answered his question. ‘After a while. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad I did it. And I think you will be, too.’
‘Will you tell me more about… that time… your brother? How you got through it?’
‘Some day,’ she said, wondering if she’d keep her word. Especially considering the fear she now held – that Timmy’s murder had something to do with her son’s kidnapping, which was somehow also tied to a possible serial killer.
With that, Isaac changed the subject as he threw together the salad. ‘By the way, do you think you could pull out some of the old family albums? I need to rummage through some pictures for a stupid Memory Book we’re being forced to make in English class,’ he mumbled grumpily. ‘We get bonus points if we include pictures of our parents.’ He rolled his eyes.
Alyssa choked back laughter. ‘One day far in the future, you’ll run across that stupid Memory Book and be glad you made it.’
He rolled his eyes and groaned, ‘I’m not a girl, Mom. I don’t do scrapbooks.’
Later, after the table had been cleared and dishes stowed away in the dishwasher, she went to the closet and pulled a dusty box of old albums off a shelf and dragged it into the living room. She opened it up, grabbed the top one, and thrust it at Isaac, thunking it against his chest. ‘Let’s embark on your scrapbooking journey, shall we?’
To her surprise, as she flipped through the albums and boxes of loose pictures, she wasn’t filled with sadness. Maybe it was because she enjoyed watching her children laugh at goofy photos. Alyssa and Holly were snorting over one particularly hideous picture of Alyssa with her hair teased high, grinning stupidly up at Brock, who sported a perm at the time, when she noticed that Isaac, picking through a separate box of photographs, had grown very quiet, a mixture of fear and something else frozen on his face.
Even as Holly inched her way closer to her brother, offering him her silent support, Alyssa leaned over to see what had caught his attention, afraid of what she’d find. Had she accidentally put some old newspaper articles about Timmy’s murder in these boxes and forgotten about it?
Isaac held two pictures in his hands. The first one was bent in the corner with a fold crease down the center. It was a picture of her dad, probably when he was in his mid to late thirties. The second was an image of both her parents, in happier times. Her mom was pregnant with Timmy, and her hand lovingly cradled her belly as Alyssa burrowed between her parents. ‘That’s your grandfather,’ she said, gently removing the pictures from her son’s trembling fingers. ‘What is it, baby?’ Alyssa asked.
Isaac’s face had gone from a pale white to a sickly shade of green. He pointed. ‘That’s the guy who took me. That’s him!’ He shoved the box away and scrambled backwards until his back hit Brock’s feet.
Alyssa’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as cold fingers of dread threatened to choke her. ‘Sweetie,’ she spoke gently, ‘this is your grandpa. He couldn’t have taken you, honey. He’s dead. You’re still safe.’ She kept her voice low, like she was trying to calm a frightened animal, which in w
ay, she was.
Isaac inhaled deeply, but kept his eyes trained on the photos. His voice shook as he stood abruptly. ‘I think I’ve got enough pictures for now. Thanks, Mom.’ Without waiting for a reply, he raced up the stairs, closing his bedroom door with a thud and then opening it once more, still afraid to be closed in.
‘I’ll go check on him,’ Holly said.
When both her children were upstairs, Alyssa rested her head on her knees, the photos still clutched in her trembling hands. The sound of cardboard boxes scraping across the floor had her glancing back up, and she saw that Brock had gathered all the pictures, closed the lids, and moved the boxes and albums out of the way.
Quietly, she shared her suspicions with her husband, telling him about the box addressed to her and delivered to the precinct. ‘I don’t know how everything is connected yet, but Hunter Jenkins is the one common denominator which seems to link everything else together,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible. One thing she did know was that she was even more determined to find him.
Later that night, lying in bed, her mind couldn’t stop seeing Isaac’s face when he’d seen the picture of her father. When she finally fell asleep, it was in the half hour before her alarm went off at four thirty.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Tuesday, April 9
Tuesday morning, Evan prepared the final touches on the basement. He’d moved his shadowbox to the center of the wall where Alyssa wouldn’t be able to miss it, and he placed the items he’d stolen from her house – a scarf, hair clip, the movie Primal Fear, and a bottle of lotion – on one of the beds. Tonight would be the beginning of her end. He still regretted being unable to witness her expression when she’d opened the box of all Timmy’s favorites – he’d considered having it delivered to her house but thought it had added a special touch to have it sent to her place of work. Another rub to show her he was right there, and she couldn’t find him.
All His Pretty Girls Page 27
