She dreaded Mrs. Mason’s reaction—that might do Willow in for the day. It was obvious from the video session that Mrs. Mason clearly liked JT, as did everyone—except for the person driving the car that hit him on his bike that day.
Don’t even go there. Thinking about the video of the instant someone hit him would distract Willow from her purpose. She could lie in bed and let the pain destroy her, the bruises to her mind and soul keep her debilitated for days and weeks, maybe even months. Or she could pick herself up and work through it, maybe even accomplish something in the end, such as finding Jamie Mason. Getting to the bottom of JT’s murder and the arson, though, that side of things she’d leave to the actual authorities. Still, the two were connected. Her instincts told her that much. Despite his vast experience as a board-certified genealogist and licensed attorney, JT was all about listening to his intuition. He tried to instill that same sense in Willow.
Dana entered the office carrying a box of files and plopped it on the desk.
“What’s that?”
“First thing JT did after talking to Mrs. Mason was file an FOIPA request—Freedom of Information/Privacy Act request—with the FBI regarding her missing child’s case. This is a box with a hard copy of everything to do with her case, but it has only a few files from the FBI. I think he wanted Austin to speak with the caseworker and see if he could find out more.”
Willow had already taken home JT’s notes reflecting his thoughts—everything she would have needed to move forward. She hadn’t even taken the time to read them before they were lost in the fire. A pang stabbed through her. “So you’re saying there’s not much useful in those files?”
“I didn’t say that. In fact—”
Willow’s cell phone rang. “It’s Mrs. Mason!” She snatched up the call.
“Willow Anderson speaking.”
“Miss Anderson, this is Katelyn Mason. I’m returning your call.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Mason. Please, call me Willow.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Breathe steady now. “We haven’t found your daughter yet. That’s not why I’m calling.” Willow hesitated. “Though I do have some news to share with you.” She let the tone in her voice prepare Mrs. Mason.
“Oh?”
“I wanted you to know that my grandfather, JT, has”—she swallowed the unshed tears—“he’s gone.”
“Gone. What do you mean?”
“He was killed.” In an accident, she’d almost added, but that likely wasn’t true anymore.
“Oh dear, I’m so terribly sorry to hear this news. So sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. Please know that I will do everything in my power to continue the search for your missing daughter. That is, if you’ll allow Anderson Consulting to continue with the case.”
A brief silence met the line before Mrs. Mason answered. “He spoke very highly of you, Willow. I know you’ll do him proud. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but may I ask what happened?”
Willow hung her head. How much should she tell the woman? “He was on his bike. It was a hit-and-run.”
Mrs. Mason gasped. “Again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. In the short time I knew him, I’d grown quite fond of him. I know he will be greatly missed.”
“Mrs. Mason—”
“Katelyn, please.”
“All right. Katelyn, there’s more.” Should I do this?
“What is it?”
“I can’t be sure, and because of that I don’t know if I should even say anything, but last night someone burned down the house I shared with JT.”
“I’m listening.”
“And I’ve been told the police now consider his death suspicious.”
“You mean they think someone tried to run him over on purpose? That it wasn’t an accident?”
“Yes, I think so. They found the car that hit him. It had been stolen.” Willow calmed her breathing. Steadied herself for what she had to ask Katelyn. “Do you think JT’s death could be related to his search for your missing daughter?”
The woman released a heavy sigh. “That just seems impossible. Someone would have to know that Anderson Consulting was searching. How would the abductor even find out? Besides, it’s been so long since the actual abduction that they must believe they will never be caught. The FBI looked at every possible connection to me years ago. I’d come into some money, but there was no ransom note. You can read about that in the files, I’m sure. Money wasn’t the reason for her abduction. Besides, Anderson Consulting isn’t the first company I’ve hired to investigate. No one has ever been attacked or killed for it.
“Ultimately, the FBI determined the woman who walked out with Jamie was a stranger. The abduction was random. She posed as a nurse, which isn’t uncommon when someone wants to snatch a baby from a hospital. At the time, I thought I was dying from leukemia. The doctors hadn’t given me any hope of living much longer, especially since I refused treatment while pregnant with Jamie, but then my leukemia went into remission. If only my baby hadn’t been stolen, I could have spent the time that was given back to me with her. Raising her. Loving her. Her father, my husband, Cliff, had died before she was born, so it would have been just the two of us. As it was, such a significant loss should have killed me, but instead it fueled my resolve to find her. But then . . . nothing. I’ve spent a lot of money over the years hiring investigators, and each of them left me more discouraged. Then I read the article about JT finding Albert Schmidt’s family, and about some of JT’s other cases, and I hoped he was the one.” She sniffed, clearly upset by the turn of events. “I believe JT was able to get some of the information about that cold case to start. Do you have it?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had a chance to look at it. I wanted to call you first to tell you what’s happened. And maybe you should speak to the FBI about reopening the case. Tell them you’ve hired a private investigative group to find your daughter and you suspect someone is trying to prevent that from happening. I’d be happy to talk to them.”
“Do you have proof of this, Willow?”
Willow cleared her throat. “Not yet. It’s all circumstantial, if that’s what you’re getting at. I don’t know that any of what’s happened is tied to finding Jamie, but the police will ask why someone would want to burn down the house. Why someone would want to kill JT. I want you to know that I’m going to suggest to them that this could be related to your daughter’s case.”
“I understand, and you’re being smart about it. I’ll call the FBI after I’m off the phone with you to share what’s happened and to see if I can get movement on my end. Wait. No. Oh no. I just remembered.” Katelyn breathed heavily. “Oh, Willow, it’s . . . it’s all my fault.”
“What are you talking about? What’s your fault?”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Katelyn, please tell me.”
“A couple of weeks after I hired JT, a reporter approached me from the Houston Sun. He was writing an article on abducted babies. There had been a string of abductions in the area—black-market babies, they call them. It just breaks my heart. So the reporter looked me up and asked me about my story—because my baby was never found. I told them I had hired your grandfather to find who stole my baby even though it had happened over two decades ago. The article was featured on the national news. I’m surprised you didn’t see it, but then again, there are too many distractions these days.” She sighed. “This could be all my fault.”
“I don’t see how it can possibly be your fault.”
“Don’t you? Whoever took Jamie saw the story on the news. They don’t want you to find her. Like me, they believe Anderson Consulting is up to the task. In light of all this, I’m sorry, but I’d like to cancel my request that you investigate.”
“What? Oh, Katelyn, please don’t do this. Please give me the chance to find your daughter. The same chance you gave my grandfather. There’s no reason why the FBI can’t reexamine the case too, if they will even consider it. In the meantime, I’ll look into things follo
wing the same methods my grandfather taught me. Remember why you hired him—you said he could do miracles.”
“Yes. I remember. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t think it will matter if I stop searching. The person responsible has no way of knowing my plans, one way or another. Quitting now won’t change anything. I had planned to call you last night and tell you I couldn’t continue the search for Jamie. In other words, I had planned to drop the case. What did it matter? The house was burned anyway. See what I’m saying? I almost died. I believe finding Jamie is the only way I’ll reveal the truth about what happened to JT. What happened to the house. If the fire and his death have nothing to do with Jamie, then it doesn’t matter. At least I will have continued to search for her. I hope to find her. Please let me continue.” Willow held her breath.
“Okay. You’re right. Maybe I’m making a mistake, but I feel I have to try this one last time to find her,” Katelyn said.
Willow slowly released the breath, unsure if it was relief that surged through her. “That’s all I can ask. I’ll let you know something as soon as there’s anything to tell.”
“Be careful, Willow.”
She ended the call. Wide-eyed, Dana sat across from her.
“That was intense.” Willow steepled her hands and pressed them against her nose. “I’m really doing this, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. When I encouraged you to take on this project, I didn’t know about the danger.”
All the more reason to call Austin. She had told him if she decided to take the case, she wanted his help. Maybe having him along as protection would be a good idea too. She should have called him sooner, but she hadn’t known what Katelyn would say.
A loud pop resounded in the warehouse. Willow stiffened. Shared a look with Dana. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Dana slowly rose from her chair and rubbed her arms. “I wish Stan would hurry up and get here with Phil.”
Willow stood too and crept from JT’s office. She wished there wasn’t so much empty space in the warehouse. The back part of the building remained dark. Why pay to light the whole thing when they used only the front renovated portion? Maybe she should flip on those lights, but the switch was in the back.
Something moved in the shadows. Or . . . someone.
Chapter thirteen
TUESDAY, 9:38 P.M.
ANDERSON CONSULTING OFFICE
Austin sat in his Acura across the street from the Anderson Consulting office. Uninvited, of course. If she didn’t want him to help her investigate or even protect her, then she could hire someone else. He kept thinking of Michael Croft. Maybe he should have shared that grisly story with her before he’d walked out like an idiot, resolving to wait for her to contact him this time.
In the meantime, he would be her shadow.
Just call me, Willow.
Eight o’clock had bled into well after nine, and with the time, his resolution slowly drained into the night. He’d had no intention of barging in on her again or trying to force his way into her life to assist. Unfortunately, too much had already gone wrong for him to walk away and never look back. But what if she didn’t call? Would that mean she wasn’t going to investigate the missing girl? Or that she simply didn’t want to see him?
Man, he hated this kind of torture.
The lights went out. Not just the office lights, but the security light as well.
Tension jolted through his already taut muscles. Grabbing his Glock and flashlight, he slowly opened the door and slid out of the car.
The darkness could mean nothing more than that the ladies were exiting the office to head home. That is, if it weren’t for the security light. That was suspicious. His sudden appearance might startle them, but that was a reasonable price to pay. Crossing the street, he crept closer, grateful for the city lights reflecting off the clouds in the night sky. He wouldn’t use his flashlight yet. He didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself.
He waited at the glass door and windows that made up the office portion of the industrial-sized warehouse and peered inside. His attempt to see anything in the darkness was fruitless.
As the seconds passed, fear rippled through him. The women hadn’t come out. They wouldn’t remain inside in the dark without a good reason, and all of the reasons crossing his mind were bad. He tried the door. Locked.
“Willow!” he called.
Austin broke through the glass door entrance to the office, sending huge shards to the carpeted foyer. Then he faced off with another locked door, this one steel.
“Willow, it’s me. Are you all right?” he called while kicking the steel door. It didn’t budge. The adrenaline rush minimized the pain shooting through his leg. Willow hadn’t responded to his calls. His heart jackhammered.
She was in danger.
“I’m going to shoot the lock. Stay back.” He had no way of knowing what he would face on the other side, but he had to give fair warning.
He fired his gun twice. With the doorjamb and lock obliterated, now was his chance. He pushed the door open. Darkness engulfed him. Shining his flashlight now could make him an easy target, so he slid to the right and pressed against the wall. Waited for his eyes to adjust, if possible, in the total blackness.
And listened.
His own too-heavy breathing resounded. Letting his military training kick in, he forced a calm into his body that he didn’t feel.
Footfalls approached to his left. His pulse ratcheted up. Was it Willow or Dana? His gut told him neither. He resisted turning on his flashlight. Not yet. Did whoever approached know he stood in their path? Were they coming for him? Or were they headed for the open door to escape?
He fired his weapon into the ground to warn them to back off. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Tingles ran over his arms. Instinct took over and he ducked. Air whooshed over his head as something large and deadly drove past him and then clanged to the floor. He lunged low to launch into the assailant but missed. Austin whipped around. The shadowy silhouette of a man dashed through the open door. Glass crunched underfoot as the man fled.
Austin’s attention returned to finding Willow. He hoped that had been the only assailant. He flicked on his flashlight to search for her while he called 9-1-1.
The assailant was getting away, but Austin couldn’t follow. He had to look for Willow. She and Dana could be hurt.
Or worse . . .
“Are you okay? Willow? Where are you?” Please, say something.
His heart in his throat, Austin battled through his fear.
The warehouse creaked, but Willow didn’t answer.
A pungent odor overwhelmed him the deeper he went into the building. Gasoline.
Chapter fourteen
Sh. I hear something.” Crouched between dusty cardboard boxes, Willow gripped Dana’s moist hand as they huddled in the dark closet.
When she’d realized someone was in the warehouse with obviously nefarious intentions, Willow had wanted to go for the lights to chase away the shadows and reveal their uninvited guest’s identity, but he’d already found the breaker box and put them all in the dark.
Dana had screamed.
Without hesitation, Willow had grabbed Dana’s hand and pulled the woman with her as she blindly made her way down the short hallway, back to JT’s office. She’d shut and locked the door so it looked like all the other doors, then they’d gone into the closet to hide. If she’d had a weapon, maybe she could have used it to protect them. She would never go anywhere without a gun again. The one she owned had been tucked in a drawer in the bedside table at the house.
In the closet, she’d tried to call 9–1–1.
Before the call had connected, a noise resounded at the office door. If they kept quiet, maybe he would move to the next door. She feared speaking into the phone would give them away. So she’d put off making that call.
Seconds later someone called her name.
“I think it’s Austin!”
She stood to open the closet door, but Dana snatched her back.
“Wait, you don’t know that,” she whispered.
“Willow.” His familiar voice wrapped her with relief.
“Listen, don’t you hear that? It’s Austin.”
“Willow!” Louder now.
She thrust open the closet door. “We’re in here!”
A crash reverberated and the office door jarred wide open. Light beamed into her eyes.
“Willow!” His pure electrified relief shot through her like a thousand bolts of lightning as he pulled her into his arms.
She buried her face into his neck. Drew in the musky smell of his cologne, never so glad to see another person. “Austin.” She breathed against his skin. Right there in his arms. Right there she was safe.
For a few heartbeats, she soaked up the essence that was Austin. In another world—another time and place, a life that didn’t exist—she could remain in his arms forever.
She eased out of his embrace. “Thanks for finding us.” She could guess why he was here—he’d hadn’t stopped watching out for her. Any other time she might be frustrated with him. “There was someone in the warehouse. Is he gone?”
“Yes. He got away.” Austin shined the light over her face and body and then Dana’s. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
Willow shook her head. “No, we hid in the closet. I was about to call 9–1–1.”
“I already did. But we need to get out of here. I smell gasoline. I think he intended to light another fire.”
“Oh no.” Willow looked at Dana. “We haven’t finished here. We need to get all these files out before someone tries to destroy them.”
Austin glanced at his watch. “Can’t move anything until we get the go-ahead. We don’t want to mess with any evidence that could lead us to this guy. But we don’t want files destroyed either. Let me make sure the premises are safe first.”
Willow allowed Austin to take her hand and lead her through the splintered door, revealing his desperation to find her. The image acted like a gentle breath on the spark in her heart.
Never Let Go Page 7
