“What kind of job are we talking about?” Grigsby was taking notes.
“Anything where he gets to push around people smaller or weaker. Could be anything from issuing or denying building permits right up to law enforcement.”
“Law enforcement?” Tovar looked alarmed. “This guy could be a cop?”
“A cop. A meter reader. President of his home owners’ association. You get the idea.”
“Is he married, or does he live in his parents’ basement?” Grisby wanted to know.
“I think he most likely lives alone or at least he has a separate space where he can be alone with the victims.”
“Whom he picks out the year before, based on whether they witnessed his last abduction?” Grigsby had been paying attention when Reed laid out his theory, but she still sounded skeptical.
“That is the only detectable pattern right now, yes.”
Grisby blew out a long breath that flapped her lips like a horse. “Well,” she said, “we can print out a list of guys in the area who are age forty to forty-five and living alone and start going through them. Or we can just wait a year and set up surveillance on the current target and hope we catch him in the act.”
She wasn’t being serious, but a queer feeling passed through Reed.
“Yeah,” Tovar agreed, leaning over to peer at her notes. “If you’re right, this guy already has his next victim picked out, right? Who was the last Woodbury citizen to see Julia Parker before she was abducted?”
Reed looked at the door again, this time with more alarm. “That would be Ellery,” he said.
* * *
He did not let Ellery out of his sight for the rest of the day. When she heard his latest concerns, she went pale for a few seconds but then squared her shoulders. “Sure, maybe, but we’ve got a year before I have to worry about that, right? We just need to find this asshole before next summer.”
“Right, sure,” he agreed, hoping he sounded convincing. Privately, he resolved to keep up his personal surveillance. The killer needed his victims to be alone for the abduction, so it stood to reason that if Ellery wasn’t alone, she would remain safe. He trailed her everywhere but the ladies’ room.
At the end of the day, they picked up a pizza for dinner and took it back to her house. Reed wasn’t especially hungry, and what appetite he did have disappeared entirely when he saw Ellery take the day’s mail from her mailbox. On top was a plain white envelope with her name and address in square black printing. “Is that—?”
“A birthday card.” She held it so he could see. “To go with Julia Parker’s abduction. You see? I told you I was not making any of this up.”
“I’m not doubting you,” he replied as he set the pizza down on the coffee table. “It looks the same as the others.”
She went to the kitchen to fetch a pair of gloves, which she used for handling the envelope. “Wouldn’t want to get any more of my DNA on it,” she said darkly.
Reed looked at the postmark and saw it was from Worcester, stamped two days ago. Ellie took a knife to one end of the envelope and slit it open. When she tipped it to one side, the familiar clown card slid out. She opened it with one gloved finger and started in surprise when a folded piece of paper fell out. “This is new,” she murmured as she picked it up.
Reed peeked at the writing on the interior of card and saw it was identical to the previous ones: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLERY. “What does the paper say?”
Carefully, she unfolded it so they could both see the inside. “Oh, wow,” she breathed when she saw the drawing it contained. It was a pen-and-ink piece that showed a city street at night. There was a dark car stopped in the road with a man inside it. A girl with a long ponytail and a bicycle was talking to the man. The scene was entirely black and white except for the red tie holding back the girl’s hair. “This is me,” she whispered. “This is what it looked like the night Coben abducted me.”
“I know.” He had heard the story enough times to recognize the players. Ellie was wearing her brother’s old soccer jersey with the number 6 on the back. Coben was driving a black Acura sedan. The viewpoint was of someone standing perhaps thirty feet away on the sidewalk.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure. Coben’s name has been in the news these past few days, what with everyone going on about the possibility of a copycat. Maybe this guy is needling Coben, pointing out the place he went wrong.”
Ellie shuddered and put the paper down on the coffee table. “It’s creepy.”
“Very,” he agreed as they took seats next to one another on the sofa. “We should get this to a lab and have it tested.” The kidnapper had been very careful thus far, even perhaps planting DNA evidence to obscure his identity, so Reed didn’t hold out a lot of hope that a fresh analysis would reveal any clues, but one small mistake could be enough to nail him.
“Yes,” Ellie replied, but she sounded distracted. She bent over so that she could look at the picture some more. “The level of detail is impressive,” she said after a moment. “He’s got a vivid imagination.” She tilted her head for another angle. “Reed…”
“Hmm?”
“Do you have a copy of that poster Monica Jenkins showed us the other day? The one made up of me when I went missing?”
“I can print one from my laptop,” he said, moving to grab the computer. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before he had a copy of the flyer in his hands. Ellie was right that the artist had an eye for detail. He had captured roundness of her face, the last vestige of childhood, and her beat-up secondhand bicycle.
Ellie grabbed the paper from his hands and scanned it quickly. “‘Last seen wearing a green soccer jersey that says HORNETS on the front and the number 6 on the back. Jean cutoff shorts and white sneakers.’”
Check and check, Reed noted as he looked at the drawing. Ellie raised her eyes to his.
“There’s nothing here about the scrunchie,” she said.
“The what?”
“The red ponytail holder. It’s not on the flyer. It fell out in Coben’s car when I was struggling to get free. Reed, this guy didn’t draw my kidnapping from his imagination. He watched it happen. That’s what he’s telling me with this drawing.”
Reed snatched the flyer back from Ellie to check the physical description for himself, even though he already knew she had to be correct. “Well, then,” he said, a hum of excitement in his veins at last, “we finally know where to start looking for him.”
* * *
Two hours later, they sat surrounded by printouts in her living room. Reed had somehow managed to eat half a pizza without even tasting it. All his attention was focused on poring over the witness statements from the night Ellery was abducted. Beside him, Ellie sat on one end of the sofa, holding her half of the pages to a nearby light. “I didn’t realize how many there would be,” she said, sounding discouraged.
“The entire city was looking for you,” he replied. “Cops went door-to-door asking everyone if they had seen anything.”
“What a waste of time that turned out to be,” she said. “Listen to this one, from Angela D’Arby: ‘I sleep with earplugs on account of the traffic noise outside. I didn’t hear nothing.’ Or this one, from Ken Collins and Israel Riley, who were playing basketball down the street. ‘We saw a lady on her bike but she was black, not white.’”
Reed had similar problems with his reports. “Dick Butkus,” he said. “A guy gives that as his name and no one in Chicago thinks to question it?”
Ellie looked over at him. “What did Dick see?”
“A whole lot of nothing. He claims he was watching the late-late show.”
Ellie returned her attention to the printouts, shuffling papers until she found a fresh page. “Here’s something. A guy named Peter Gonzalez says he remembers a dark-colored car parked on the street.”
“Flag it,” Reed replied without looking up.
“Virginia Willett says there was a perve
rt in the park two days beforehand. He exposed himself to her nephew and his ten-year-old friend.”
“That doesn’t sound like Coben to me,” Reed said. “But this rather does: a man named Martin Macon saw a black Acura circling the block at around ten that night. He thought the guy was either lost or looking to score drugs. Didn’t get a license plate.”
Ellie’s papers sagged a bit at this news. “Ten,” she murmured. “I didn’t go out there until past midnight. It’s like he was out there waiting for me and I didn’t even know it.” She put the reports aside and curled a bit tighter in on herself. “I was thinking about the drawing. And about what you said—that maybe I’m next.”
“Ellie.” Reed turned to her and kept his tone gentle. “We aren’t going to let that happen.”
“What if the drawing is meant to say something else? What if he means to finish what Coben started? You know, like you were saying before how sometimes there is one intended victim and the rest of them are collateral damage.”
“If that were the case, he probably would have targeted you to begin with,” Reed said, hoping this was reassuring.
“Unless he was waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting for it to be my turn.”
“It’s not your turn,” Reed said firmly. “It’s his turn, and we will find him.”
* * *
The following day, Reed started running down the names of witnesses to Ellie’s abduction to determine what they were up to now. Ellie was helping him with this herculean task initially, but Tovar and Grigsby showed up with a new round of questions for her. “We’ve subpoenaed Sam Parker’s cell phone records, including his text messages,” Grigsby told her. “He had some really interesting things to say about you—and to you.”
Reed saw Ellie’s face flush as the evidence of her affair came to light. “It didn’t mean anything,” she said.
“Why don’t you come tell us all about it anyway?” Tovar suggested, and Ellie had little choice but to comply. Reed alternated between his background searches and watching the clock as the hours ticked by and Ellery did not appear.
Late in the afternoon, they finally kicked her loose, and she returned to her desk looking tired and drained. “I think I’ve managed to convince them that I didn’t kill Julia,” she said. “But I’m not to leave the area without letting them know about it.”
Reed blinked. “You were with me. I’ll vouch for you.”
“Oh, the way they’re going in there, they’ll probably just think we were in on it together,” she said, disgusted. “Plus, I went off alone that day to take Bump over to Brady’s. That’s apparently my ‘my window of opportunity.’ Shoot, speaking of Brady … I should go pick up Bump before he wears out his welcome over there.” She fished out her cell phone and began texting.
The door to the station swung open and Jimmy Tipton stepped in. Reed couldn’t help but notice the man was now wearing the chief’s hat. “There she is,” Tipton said of Ellery. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Ellie set down her cell phone. “What’s up?”
“Now that the chaos has settled down somewhat, I want you to come over to the Ingram place with me and walk through what happened the night you found Julia Parker’s hands.”
“Is that necessary? I’ve given a complete statement.”
“It would be helpful, yes. I want to see it through your eyes.”
“It was dark,” Ellie said flatly. “We didn’t see much.”
“All the same.” Tipton gave a tight smile. “I’d be much obliged.”
“Fine,” Ellie said, heaving a sigh as she pushed back from her desk. “Let me just pick up my dog, okay?”
“I’d like to do this first,” Tipton said. “I’ve been waiting all day as it is. Won’t take long.”
Reed closed his laptop and prepared to go with her, but Tipton held up a hand. “No need for both of you to come,” he said. “Ellie’s account will be enough.”
“It’s no trouble for me,” Reed protested. “After all, I was there that night too. Surely two witness statements would be better than one.” He didn’t particularly see the point of this little exercise, but he wasn’t keen on the idea of Ellery going off unattended.
“You’re of better use staying here, doing … whatever it is you’re doing,” Tipton said with a small frown. “We might need you in some other capacity. Don’t worry about Ellie. I’ll take good care of her.”
He gave an exaggerated wink and Reed wanted to punch him in the mouth. “Ellery?” Reed said, looking toward her. “I’ll come if you want.”
“It’s okay,” she said, clearly feeling the strain of the day. “We’ll be there and back in no time. If you want to do me a favor, you could go pick up Bump for me and take him home. I already told Brady I was coming to the shelter to get him.”
“You want me to fetch the animal? On my own?”
“Would you? Please? He likes you.”
Reed raised his eyes to the heavens. “I know I will regret this,” he said, “but okay.” He held out his hands for her keys.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” she said, and then stopped as she heard the words come out of her mouth. She smiled slightly and ducked her head. “My lifesaver,” she added, touching his arm quickly—the first time she had initiated any physical contact. Reed looked down at his elbow in wonder and then glanced back to the door, seeking her out again, but Ellery had already disappeared from sight.
* * *
Reed drove Ellery’s truck to the animal shelter, where he parked in the empty lot and headed inside in search of her canine companion. There was no one at the front window and the place seemed deserted. “Hello?” he called, leaning over the counter. The only reply was the dinging of his cell phone, signaling a new message. He pulled it out, hoping it was Ellie. Instead, it was an e-mail from his friend Alfred at the gas station, the alias Oil Can Boy. “Dear Mr. Agent Markham,” the message read. “I went through all my files and this was the only other video I have from that night. Bea Nesbit isn’t on it, and neither is that other woman. Sorry I can’t help you.—Alfred.”
Reed called up the attached video anyway and started it playing as he began to wander the halls, looking for Brady or Bump. The video showed surveillance footage from inside the convenience mart, people waiting in line to pay for their purchases. Reed paused to watch some bald guy with a hefty paunch buy a six-pack and a carton of Marlboros. “Hello?” he called again, and this time he heard Brady’s answer.
“Back here!”
He found Brady in the rear of the building, cleaning out stainless steel cages. When Reed set foot in the room, Bump lumbered to his feet and came running over for a snuffly greeting. “Yes, yes, I’ve missed you too,” Reed said, sidestepping the worst of the slobber. He peeked at the video again. This time it was a woman in a tube top buying what looked like six bags of chips.
“Where’s Ellie?” Brady said. “I thought she was coming by.”
“She had work to do,” Reed told him. “I’m here to take custody of the furry beast.”
“Suit yourself,” Brady said. He turned with a smile, and Reed noted he was wearing an AC/DC concert T-shirt, complete with the shaggy-haired band and a guitar that appeared to be on fire. Some people have no musical taste at all, he thought, and glanced at his phone again. A man buying lottery tickets. Taking his sweet time about it too. Reed turned his attention back to Brady.
“Thanks for watching the dog.” Reed looked vaguely around for a leash, lest he have to drive back to the station with Bump riding square in his lap.
“No problem. I told Ellie he could stay as long as she needed.”
“That’s kind of you, but I think she rather misses the creature.” He gave up looking for the leash momentarily as the video switched to a new person, and this time the shape was immediately familiar: Brady Archer. Reed stopped the video and double-checked the image against the man standing three feet away from him, his brow furrowed in concentr
ation. It was definitely Brady on the screen. They were even wearing the same damn shirt.
“What kind of work is Ellie doing?” Brady asked, yanking Reed’s attention back to the present. He was moving around again as he put away a cage.
“Oh, you know, reports related to the discovery of Julia Parker’s hands last night. I bet she’d like to tell you about it.” Reed tucked his phone away so the other man couldn’t see it. “You could come back to the station with me. I bet she’s there now.”
Brady froze for a moment at the invitation. Reed forced himself to appear relaxed and calm, to give nothing away as his mind raced on ahead with this new discovery. It didn’t make a lick of sense. This kid was maybe twenty-four years old. He’d have been in grammar school the night Ellie was abducted. It didn’t seem possible he could be practiced enough to be their killer. “Yeah?” Brady asked. “The station? That would be cool. Ellie’s never given me the grand tour.”
“Then we should go,” Reed said, hoping he didn’t sound too eager. He wanted to get Brady in the box and find out what he knew.
“Sure. Let me just wash my hands and then I can lock up.”
Reed stepped back to allow Brady to pass in front of him to the sink. But as he did so, there was an impossibly fast flash of movement from Brady, a man used to capturing fleeing animals, and Reed felt a sharp jab of a needle go straight into his neck. His vision went starry white, the ground rushing up to meet him as he fell down, down, down, past a relentless barking animal. Ellery, he thought with a last gasp of desperation. Then he thought nothing at all.
The Vanishing Season Page 23
