Abduction

by Wanda Dyson

  “Yes,” he admitted in a voice so low she could barely hear him.

  “Then why didn’t you say something?”

  He tilted his head. “I had the distinct impression that if I would have come to you and told you what I thought, you would have shown me the door.”

  Zoe couldn’t argue with that. She definitely would have shown him the door—and thrown in a few choice comments to accompany a door slamming. “Okay, fair enough. When did all this happen to you? Becoming a Christian, I mean.”

  “After Amy died. I was so completely. . .done in. I was lost. You and your mother had each other. I was grieving. I felt guilty for not being there, but I knew you didn’t want me there. I was forced to go through it alone.

  “No,” he said quickly, cutting off anything she might have been on the verge of saying. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Granted, it was the worst time of my life. I’d lost everything important to me and I was wallowing in my grief. But at some point I realized the Lord was holding out His hand to me, so I grabbed on and haven’t let go since.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?” He handed her a menu and opened his to peruse the offerings of the day.

  “I’m scared.”

  #

  Matt sat in his truck and stared out the windshield. This was stupid. Not only was it stupid, he was absolutely sure he’d lost his mind. There were plenty of fish in the sea. Yeah, she loved him. Big deal. A lot of women loved him.

  Okay, maybe they didn’t love him the way Paula did, but she wasn’t exactly the last woman on earth.

  Just the last person he wanted to lose.

  Turn the key, Casto. Start the engine. Drive away. Don’t look back. She bailed on you. A light tap on his window startled him. He caught his breath and then slowly rolled down the window.

  “You going to sit out here all night, hot shot?”

  “Maybe,” he said belligerently.

  Paula shook her head. “Guess you need some more time growing up.”

  She turned and headed back into the house. Matt hesitated about a half second before jumping out of his truck and running after her. “Wait a minute! I came here to talk to you!”

  Paula sat down on the front step. “So talk.” She propped her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on her fists, and stared up at the evening sky. The sun was sinking low in a blaze of orange and blue. It was spectacular.

  “I have never cheated on you, Paula Horne.”

  “I never said you did,” she countered.

  “I saw you with another man,” he parried.

  “I’ve seen you with a lot of other women.”

  “They never meant anything. Lunches and dinners with coworkers because I hate eating alone.”

  She smiled knowingly. “Exactly.”

  “Stop it, Paula! You have me so twisted up I can’t think straight.”

  “Good.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  She stood up and brushed off the seat of her pants. “Because you needed to know one way or the other.”

  “Know what, one way or the other?”

  “That you love me.”

  Matt opened his mouth but couldn’t find words. She opened the front door, slipped inside, and shut it firmly behind her.

  #

  JJ was summoned to Harris’s office with little fanfare. Stepping into the office, he was surprised to find two men standing there in dark suits. He knew immediately what was up. One man was tall and thin with blond hair and blue eyes. He was probably in his late twenties to early thirties and had the kind of charming good looks that would draw women like flies. JJ dismissed him as an FBI “FIT”—Feebie In Training.

  The other man was older, perhaps late fifties, with the neck of a bull, the shoulders of a gorilla, and the paunch of a beer lover. He had deep-set eyes that brimmed with good humor and acute intelligence. This was a man to be reckoned with.

  JJ turned to Harris. “You called in the FBI.”

  “Have a seat, Johnson. And I didn’t call them in. That news story saying this guy has killed dozens of little girls brought them running. They’re not here to take over.”

  “And pigs fly with blue wings,” he muttered under his breath.

  The bull stepped forward and held out a beefy hand. “Jack Fleming.” He nodded his head toward the heartthrob. “This is my partner, Don Bevere. Adam Zahn filled us in on some of the particulars. We’d like to be of assistance.”

  JJ’s lips twisted in a mock smile. “That’s a polite way of saying this is now your case.”

  Fleming shook his head as he unbuttoned his jacket and shoved one hand into his pants pocket. “Not at all. I could push, if you prefer it that way, but I’d rather we blend into the team you already have, get caught up on the files, and help out wherever we can.”

  JJ would have liked to tell the men to hit the road, but he knew he needed their help. He stood up and waved a hand through the air. “Welcome to the team.”

  Harris beamed.

  JJ looked at him. “We’re going to need more space.”

  The smile vanished and was replaced by a scowl. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  JJ hid his smile as he motioned for Fleming and Bevere to follow him. Once he was out in the hall, the smile broke out across his face. Bevere was the first to notice.

  “Like jerking his chain, don’t you?”

  “The highlight of my day,” JJ admitted.

  Fleming laughed.

  “I don’t see it as a laughing matter,” Bevere said grimly. “One should respect authority. This is exactly why—”

  “Put a lid on it, Bevere,” Fleming retorted and then turned to JJ. “The kid really has to lighten up.”

  chapter 26

  Wednesday, April 26

  For the next twenty-four hours, JJ didn’t budge from the newly assigned third-floor conference room. Boxes and files were stacked everywhere. Bulletin boards were covered with pictures, notes, scenarios, suspects, and profiles.

  He and Fleming poured over autopsy reports, crime scene photos, evidence, interviews, and investigation notes. Matt—with his white-knuckle grip on a surly attitude that everyone ignored—came and went with Gerry, Wayne, and Barone. Harris poked his head in once and disappeared. He, too, was ignored.

  Bevere became fascinated with Zoe Shefford. “She’s a looker,” he commented when he saw her picture in the file. “Is she single?”

  “Yes,” JJ snapped.

  “So that’s the way the wind is blowing. Sorry.”

  “Did you assign someone to watch her place?” Fleming asked over the top of a file folder.

  Bevere looked bored. “Yeah. Vince is watching the house. And I ordered her phones tapped. Maybe I should go over there and make sure everything is okay.”

  “Sit down,” Fleming ordered. “You’ve got more important things to think about than your love life.”

  “What love life?” Bevere lifted an eyebrow as if insulted, but his eyes were twinkling.

  “Keep it up and you won’t have to worry about it.”

  Smiling to himself, Bevere went back to work, but JJ had the distinct impression that the entire conversation had been intended to bait him.

  They ordered lunch in and hit a nearby diner for supper before returning to the conference room. Around 4:00 a.m., Bevere fell asleep in a chair while Fleming and JJ continued to discuss theories.

  “If he’s after Miss Shefford,” Fleming continued while stirring another cup of coffee, “then we could use that.”

  “You mean use her as bait.”

  Fleming drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s been done. Not my first choice, but it could work.”

  “And it could get her killed,” JJ replied dryly.

  Fleming looked around the table and picked up one piece of paper after another. “Where is the composite sketch of the killer? The one Mrs. Shefford worked on with the sketch artist?”

  JJ thumbed through one stack of files and then moved to another stack.
He pulled out a paper and handed it to Fleming.

  “You asked Miss Shefford if she recognized the man?”

  JJ nodded. “Casto took a copy over and showed it to her. She said she’d never seen him.”

  Fleming stroked his chin as he studied the picture. Thick dark hair, bushy eyebrows, close-cropped beard, thin lips. The notations at the bottom read: “Approx. 5.10–6.0, dark brown hair, no visible scars or tattoos, approx. 140–160 lbs., average build.”

  “What about running this in the paper? Maybe someone around town will recognize him.”

  “It’ll hit the papers tomorrow morning.” JJ glanced up at the clock. “This morning’s papers.”

  Fleming rubbed the back of his neck. “How many bodies have you found so far?”

  JJ blew out a deep breath. “Five. We got a positive ID on Gina Sarentino, Emily Brandt, and Theresa Cooper, a seven-year-old who disappeared five years ago. The medical examiner is still working on the others.”

  “Any chance there are more bodies in either of the two areas where these were found?”

  “We’ve ripped the area around the college apart and found just four bodies. They’re still working on the field out in Emmitts Falls where we located the Sarentino girl. So far, nothing.”

  “I can’t see him leaving one child out there all alone. The area where the Brandt girl was found indicates that he groups them, even if he doesn’t do it all at once.”

  “I know.” JJ stood up and stretched. “I’m fairly certain we’ll find more out in Emmitts Falls. It’s just a big area.”

  “I can order more cadaver dogs.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “I’d like to talk to this psychic of yours, if I can.”

  JJ shot him a dark look. “She’s not my psychic. Just for the record, I don’t believe in psychics. But you’re free to talk to her anytime you want.”

  Fleming leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “You don’t believe in the supernatural?”

  “Nope.”

  “Let me guess. Your parents never indoctrinated you with Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. Hence, you grew up a pragmatic soul with little color in your life and kept your experiences to what you could taste, touch, and see.”

  “No wonder he’s so droll,” murmured Bevere from his slouched position in a chair across the room.

  “I am not droll,” JJ shot back.

  Bevere lifted his head, squinting at JJ. “Really? When was the last time you laughed? My partner here is the king of comedy, and he had me rolling twice in the last. . .” He flipped his wrist and grimaced at it. “Dear heavens, have we been here this long? Anyway, he’s cracked some mighty fine jokes, and you barely cracked a smile. You, sir, are droll.”

  “Are you up from your beauty sleep?” Fleming asked.

  “Am I beautiful yet?”

  Fleming’s mouth twisted in an attempt to hide a smile. “Oh, yes. Beyond belief.”

  “Then I’m up.” Bevere climbed to his feet and stretched, his arms wide as he groaned. “Chairs were not meant to sleep in.”

  “He’s a smart one, isn’t he?” Fleming shot a grin at JJ, who returned it. “Figured that out in no time. And they said he was just another dumb blond.”

  Ignoring Fleming’s sarcasm, Bevere leaned over the table, obviously not eager to make company with another chair anytime soon. “Okay, where are we?”

  “Autopsy reports.”

  “Five victims ranging in age from five to seven years. Ligature marks around the neck indicate death by strangulation. The markings on the ligature signature indicate common household clothesline rope. None of the vics showed any sign of mutilation or torture. The heart was removed from each vic postmortem. No foreign body fluids, so we have no DNA sample. There was one strand of hair on one of the vics—I don’t recall which one—and it was determined to be medium brown and belonging to a male. Duh. News to us. No help there.”

  Bevere stood up and began to pace around the room. “Blood work showed no traces of drugs or chemicals, so the vics were not tranquilized prior to death. All vics were unusually clean, suggesting that the unsub washed the bodies before burial to prevent transference of evidence. Even the fingernails were clean, so we don’t know if they scratched him in an attempt to save themselves.”

  He stopped at the coffeepot, picked it up, smelled it, and wrinkled his nose before setting it back down and resuming his pacing. “None of the vics showed any trace of rape, so the crimes are not sexual in nature. It’s personal to him. He wants something they have, and the taking of the heart is an indication that it has something to do with their love, innocence, or purity.”

  JJ leaned back against the conference table and watched Bevere summarize all the information he’d read over the past twenty-some hours like a computer. He was impressed. The pretty boy had a brain.

  “One of the unknown vics, approximately age six, showed indications of leukemia. This might help with identification if the leukemia had been caught and diagnosed by her pediatrician. The unknown vic with blond hair had apparently had her tonsils removed—another possible help in identification.”

  Bevere turned around and looked at JJ. “And that’s it in a nutshell.” He grinned, as if he knew he’d just impressed the daylights out of JJ.

  Fleming looked up at JJ with an apologetic shrug. “Now you know why I keep him around.”

  chapter 27

  Wednesday, April 26

  Ray stood at the window and watched as his father marched up the front walk like a man heading into battle. A smile flitted across his face. If the old man thought he was going to show up and bring Karen to heel, he had another thing coming. Karen wasn’t the same mouse she’d been a few weeks earlier. Slowly she was learning her worth, and her confidence was growing. Yesterday morning he’d found her pouring over the employment classifieds.

  “You don’t have to get a job, Karen. I’ll release some of your trust to you.”

  She shook her head firmly. “This isn’t about money. I know that’s there if I need it. This is about having something for myself. Doing something with my life. Even if it’s just part time.”

  She’d found a recent color photo of Jessica and made big color posters and fliers at the local copy shop. She’d called people and teamed up with Rene to distribute the posters and fliers. She’d called reporters and television stations. She’d talked to radio stations.

  And she’d collapsed exhausted and smiling on the sofa at the end of the day.

  Ray’s sister was definitely finding herself. She’d even come out of her bedroom with several bulging trash bags and hauled them to the street. “His things,” she’d announced with a touch of disdain.

  Ray opened the front door before his father could knock.

  “You still here?” Walter Timms eyed him with scorn. “Don’t you have a job?”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  Walter sniffed loudly. “Where’s your sister?”

  “I believe she’s outside burning Ted’s clothes.”

  Walter’s eyes flew wide. “What? Has she lost her mind? He’ll kill her for doing that!”

  “He won’t do squat,” Ray replied. “He’s gone. He’ll never hurt my sister again.”

  “He never laid a hand on your sister!”

  “It doesn’t always take a fist to hurt someone.”

  His father stalked out of the room, ignoring the direct hit. Ray shut the front door and followed him through the house to the back patio. Sure enough, Karen was pouring lighter fluid on clothes she’d tossed into the barbecue pit.

  “Karen!”

  She jumped, throwing a hand to her chest. Ray started forward, afraid she was going to cower. But she just frowned. “You startled me, Dad. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  “I don’t think anything. I know exactly what I’m doing. Why? Did you want some of this garbage to wear?”

  �
��Don’t you get smart with me, young lady. Ted will have a fit when he finds out what you’ve done to his clothes.”

  She defiantly poured more lighter fluid. “Ted doesn’t need these anymore.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed. “What has happened to you? Your brother has corrupted you.”

  Karen laughed lightly as she set down the can of fluid and picked up two more shirts and a sweater. “My brother has been a gift from God. What has happened to me is that I finally woke up and smelled the coffee. Not only that, I tasted it and realized just what’s been wrong with my life for far too long.”

  She threw the shirts onto the grate and tossed a match on them, watching with delight as they caught fire with an audible whoosh.

  Walter stepped forward. “I can’t allow you to do this! These are Ted’s personal belongings. You have no right.”

  Karen whirled on him, her eyes narrowed with determined intent. “Don’t you touch those things! You don’t allow or disallow anything I do. I am a grown woman. This is my house and these belonged to my husband. I’ll burn them if I want to. I have every right.”

  Ray smiled as he perched on the edge of the brick wall surrounding the patio. Go, Sis.

  “I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this!” Walter bellowed. “I won’t allow it!”

  “Allow? This is my house, Dad. You abide by my rules here. If you don’t like it, you can go home.”

  Walter spun around and glared at Ray. “This is your doing!”

  “I wish it was, but I can’t take the credit for this. Karen has always been bright and talented and delightful all on her own. I’m pretty sure God made her that way and should get all the credit.” Ray grinned. This is so much fun.

  There was another whoosh as flames shot up into the air. Karen jumped back and let out a laugh that was pure music to Ray’s ears.

  Show the world what you’re made of, Sis.

  #

  Nora McCaine pushed her grocery cart up to the conveyer belt and began unloading her groceries. Kaitlyn lay quietly in her carrier, belted in at the front of the cart. She held a soft plush puppy in her hands and alternately stared at it and chewed on it. She looked like a perfect angel in her pink and white overalls and matching hat.