“Then Katelyn needs that closure.” Still, having to be the one to break that news was something to consider. They were in too far to go back now. He started to place his hand on her shoulder to comfort her but thought it best to keep his distance for both their sakes. “You’re not alone.” I’m here with you. “You can and will do this.”
“Thanks.” The word was barely a whisper as she stared at him with eyes that might see right through him if he’d let her.
“For what?”
“For your encouragement. For sticking with me to help. For coming to my rescue last night.”
“You’re welcome.” He couldn’t have done anything less.
They shared a look that lasted a few seconds longer than necessary, then she returned her attention to the file on the table. “I hope Dana gets here soon. She might be able to tell me more about what JT has already done. I found out last night that he’d requested the FBI files. So I have those.” When her eyes shot to him, then back to the file before her, he hadn’t missed the question in her eyes.
Why had JT needed his help? Now it was his turn to second-guess what he was doing. If he told her how he’d failed while working on the CARD team, would she still want his help? Thinking about that failure could cripple him enough that he wouldn’t be able to help Willow. But if he could help Willow find Jamie, maybe he could set things right—make peace with himself. If he told Willow about what had happened before, she might no longer want his help. And he needed this. He needed to help.
“So, Austin, you were working with the CARD team, right?”
Uh-oh. “Yeah, why?”
“What can you tell me about the stats on abducted babies?”
At least she hadn’t asked him why he was no longer with the FBI. On his laptop he pulled up statistics compiled from law enforcement agencies, including the FBI. She could have done that but might not have known exactly where to look. He skimmed the information to jar his memory, but not too much. He read from the website. “Of the nonfamily member newborns that have been abducted since 1965, most were taken from health-care facilities. Most were taken directly from the mother’s room.”
“Most. How many are we talking about?”
“Just over three hundred babies have been abducted since 1965.”
“How many have been found?”
His throat constricted. “Most of them. Fifteen are still missing. One of those is Jamie Mason. Nine of them died at the hands of their abductor, either directly or indirectly.” A few rocks closing off the cavern holding his pain fell away. No, no. He didn’t want to feel that again.
“Are you okay?”
He shook it off. “Yeah. I’m sure we’ll read about this in the FBI files, but to give you an overview of what the profile of a typical infant abductor looks like—again, I’m talking a nonfamily member, a stranger—”
“Wait. Why are you focusing on a nonfamily member?”
“I suspect that’s what we’re talking about here. The FBI would have already looked into anyone close to the mother who could have been involved in the abduction, since family abductions are the most frequent. If a family member had taken her, Jamie would have most likely been found not long after her abduction, but she wasn’t.”
“That makes sense.”
“But I’m speculating. Best if we just read the files. Things have changed a lot in twenty years. Now we have radio-frequency identification tags for babies. The tag is secured to the baby’s ankle with a band and makes it difficult to walk out without authorization. An alarm is triggered if the baby is taken outside of a designated area or the band is cut.”
“Like walking out of a department store with a stolen shirt. Only it’s a baby.”
“Exactly. Another big difference is that social media connects people and opens up the door for would-be abductors to befriend mothers on Facebook and other sites.” Social media hadn’t had anything to do with the child abduction case that still haunted him. The abductor had come right through the front door without an invitation because they hadn’t needed one. He needed to shut his memories down or else he’d be telling her all about his last child abduction case and the reason he’d left the FBI.
Austin shoved away his past failures one more time. He’d better get good at it, considering their focus here. But dread filled him that Jamie Mason wouldn’t be found alive. Wouldn’t be found at all. And Willow might remain in danger.
She handed him the file and grabbed a new one for herself, then quickly skimmed the documents.
“Oh.” Her brows lifted. “Katelyn provided her DNA to JT for testing just in case Jamie’s shows up on a database somewhere. No hits on any of that as far as we know.”
Austin read through the contents of the files from the FBI cold case, looking for anything that could help them. “Says here the authorities had an image from a hospital security camera, but it was grainy. Katelyn even had a conversation with her.” He frowned. A pang hit his gut. “The woman pretended to be a nurse and brought her a lunch plate. They had a short, friendly conversation. Makes me sick.”
He read further. “Back to the image. The authorities distributed the image in a massive investigation and search for the baby in Houston and all of Texas. The FBI and police pursued hundreds of leads. Searching for a woman who fit the profile of an infant abductor, they actively searched the community where Katelyn lived and around the hospital. The abductor might have visited nurseries and maternity units around the city. Looks like they did everything they could.” Nausea began a slow churn in his gut. He rubbed his eyes. Could he do this? Could he follow through? He really didn’t want to be like his father, who’d thrown his life away because of tragedy. He needed to make a change. See this through to the end.
“Even with all their efforts they came up empty-handed.” Willow yawned, then peered at the copy of the grainy image. “Frankly, this could be anyone. Anyone at all.”
Willow, like her grandfather, was more determined than most, but even Austin saw how completely hopeless this was. Why had JT thought he could solve this? They needed something. Even the smallest tidbit of information could encourage them and open doors. They would keep searching, but this could take much too long. “She appeared to be in her late twenties. Maybe early thirties, so she’d be in her late forties, early fifties, now. We could get a forensic artist involved.”
“JT had someone he used. A friend who does age progression. Dana could contact her.”
That gave Austin pause. “Why would JT need someone to do age progression? It’s used to help find a missing person. Children who’ve been missing for years.”
“JT used her on a specific project to help a woman to know if an ancestor as a child in a photograph was the same person as an older adult in another photograph.”
Austin had spent time with Willow and JT and still he could be surprised at the lengths to which people would go for their genealogy research.
“It wasn’t all that successful,” she said. “She couldn’t make a definite match between the child and adult in the photographs.”
“If we used JT’s forensic artist friend,” he said, “she could only do this with any accuracy for the missing person, the baby, not the abductor. She would need photographs of relatives, and since we don’t know who the abductor is, we don’t have her relatives. As for age progression of Jamie, those images have already been created and put on milk cartons and databases all over the country, I can assure you.”
“Right.” Willow flipped her file closed. “Chances are the image of the abductor is too rough for use in facial recognition software. But I’d still like to try.”
“I don’t disagree.” Maybe he could use the wealth of connections at Ex-Agents International to process the photo and get somewhere with it. That is, if it wasn’t too grainy.
Sometimes having a photograph made no difference. Sometimes a psychopath came right through the front door to take what they wanted.
When a knock came at Austin’s door, he brand
ished his weapon without conscious thought.
Willow stood. “What are you doing?”
Maybe he was entirely too edgy, but he didn’t think so. “Who is it?”
“It’s Dana. And looks like Chinese takeout.”
Still, Austin kept the weapon ready as he opened the door.
Liu Ming wore his usual painted-on smile, and Austin put away his weapon.
“You teach me shoot.” It wasn’t a question.
Chapter sixteen
The Chinese delivery guy wanted Austin to teach him to shoot?
While Austin paid Liu Ming, Willow untangled herself from the conversation and scraped off the table, clearing it for a working lunch, but kept the two files they’d been reading. He grabbed the sacks of food and shut the door behind him, barricading them in with the aroma of fried food, greasy chicken loaded with sugar and salt. Her stomach rumbled.
She stepped into the kitchen in search of dishes.
Across the room, Dana dropped her bright coral Coach purse on the sofa. “The security system is installed, so that’s out of the way.”
“And the archived files are all put away at Puget Sound Security Storage, thanks to Austin’s help. You’re welcome to join us,” Willow said. “You must be hungry.”
“No, actually. I ate with Stan at the office. But you go ahead. We can talk while you eat.”
Willow returned to the table with two plates, along with utensils, and sat down at the table.
The only two she’d found in Austin’s kitchen—the two she’d bought him before so they could eat. Not a whole set for him. No. Only two. He said he never wanted to wash more than two at a time. He hadn’t been into entertaining then and nothing much had changed. But if it had, why should she care? Although, the thought of him eating with another woman sent a sliver of jealousy through her. Utterly ridiculous. She corrected her sudden severe frown before anyone could notice.
Austin opened the red takeout boxes. Sweet and sour chicken. Fried rice. Egg foo yung. Egg rolls and . . .
“Cheesecake? They sell cheesecake?”
“No. I asked him to find and bring cheesecake. He said he would if I taught him to shoot.”
Willow eyed the cheese, eggs, and sugar creamed together on a graham-cracker crust. He’d done this for her. This and the Dr. Pepper. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. They were working together, nothing more. Right? He was putting a saucy glob of the chicken on his plate, pretending he wasn’t watching her reaction.
“I think I’ll eat dessert first, if that’s all right.”
His dimpled grin told her he’d gotten his thank-you.
Dana shouldered her bag, signaling an early departure. What? She couldn’t stomach watching Willow and Austin eating? And together, no less. Or was it more that she couldn’t stomach the chemistry between them? Why couldn’t they shut it down? A question for another time.
Dana approached the table. “Something you won’t find in the files is that JT had planned to travel to Jackson, Wyoming.”
Austin dropped his chopsticks on the floor and bent down to pick them up.
“Jackson, Wyoming?” Willow twisted her fork around. She’d never been able to use chopsticks.
Dana nodded. “I had planned to get the ticket for him the day he died.”
“What on earth for?” Willow eyed Dana while gauging Austin’s reaction.
“The woman in the picture. The abductor. If you look closely at the image, you’ll see she was wearing a pendant necklace. That necklace was found in the parking lot. Mrs. Mason identified it as the one the abductor wore. But that’s as far as it went.”
“What am I missing?” Willow’s heart skipped a beat as her confidence slid. She should see the connection already if she had JT’s gift. But she didn’t.
Dana snatched up the FBI file and thumbed through until she found the information. “Here. This identifies the necklace as silver and manufactured by the—”
“Wyoming Silversmith Company,” Austin said. Dana gave him an inquisitive look. “It was in the file. Why would he go to the place the necklace was manufactured?”
Willow peered at the image of a bucking horse pendant. “How do we know they made the necklace, and why couldn’t she have bought that anywhere?”
Dana shifted her bag. “The back is stamped with Handmade by Wyoming Silversmith Company. Back then you could only get their items in Jackson, Wyoming. Now you can order online. The stuff isn’t cheap. I’m not sure if this information helps. The investigators had the same information back then.”
“Someone could have given it to her,” Austin said. “I’m sure all those leads have already been followed.”
Willow squeezed her eyes shut as if cutting off her vision would send more power to her brain. “Have they? Do we know if the FBI went to the actual place where the necklace was made?”
“Possibly, but we’d have to find out for sure. What are you getting at?” he asked.
Opening her eyes, she shared a look with Dana. “People tend to look for a needle in a haystack—”
“When all they need is one good thread,” Dana said, finishing her sentence.
“What does that even mean?” Austin wiped off his chopsticks and chased a chicken chunk around his plate.
Willow tried not to laugh at his efforts. She handed him a fork. “JT used to say it. It means people often search for something that might be impossible to find or focus on obscure information instead of following the obvious threads.”
“Okay. I’m just going to be honest here. I still don’t know what that means.”
“It means that looking deeper into the Wyoming Silversmith Company is a good thread.” Willow shrugged. “It’s one thread. A lead. He was going to follow it. I can’t say that I would have done the same. But if it’s as you say and the FBI and police have already followed the obvious leads, and even some of the less than obvious ones, then it’s worth a try. JT believed that following every such lead, or hunch even, had the potential to open up new doors. I’ve seen it happen too often to ignore his methods.”
“Okay, wait, so maybe what you mean is that he just starts threading every needle, right? Maybe that’s what he should have said.” He grinned.
Willow choked on her Dr. Pepper.
Dana’s cell phone rang and she took the call, a frown quickly developing on her face. “I’ll be right there.” She ended the call, worry and an apology in her eyes. “Layne fell, and Shari thinks he broke his arm. She needs me to watch the baby. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be. Go see to your grandbaby. I hope Layne is okay. Tell Shari I said hi.” Willow rose from the table and ushered Dana out the door. It felt strange doing so because this wasn’t her home. Right now, she had no home.
Dana hung back. “Are you sure you’re okay after everything that’s happened?”
“Not much I can do about it except finish JT’s last project for him. We’ll get answers that way.”
Dana leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Was I presumptuous in saying that Austin should work with you?”
“Of course not. Now go see your family.” Willow hugged her for good measure. Dana gave her a tenuous smile, then headed down the steps.
Willow closed the door and sat at the table again, her cheesecake only half eaten. It didn’t appear as appetizing as it had before. Especially since it looked like a trip to Wyoming was in order. Austin used a fork to finish off the pile of Chinese delight on his plate. He didn’t look particularly excited about the new information. Willow wished she didn’t know why. What would he think of her when he found out what she’d done?
Dread prickled through her. She had to remain focused on finding Jamie Mason. Dead or alive. They finished eating in silence. She forced herself to finish the cheesecake, hoping it would bring comfort. Besides, Austin had to teach Ming to shoot now. The least she could do was finish eating his thoughtful gift. She stifled a sigh—she’d missed him. Then she stood to clear away the mess. “I keep wonderin
g about her name.”
“What do you mean?”
“If Jamie survived and she’s still alive out there somewhere, the abductor or whoever raised her would have given her a new name.”
And if so, what was her name?
Chapter seventeen
WEDNESDAY, 2:32 P.M.
GRAYBACK, WYOMING
Even though the town square boardwalk under her feet brought a sense of rightness, Charlie Clemmons could never be too careful. She had to be quick. In and out. Get what she needed in town and leave. Life was always like this now. She hoped it wouldn’t stay that way forever. She couldn’t keep this up for an extended amount of time. If she could stay under the radar and off the grid until she learned the truth, that would be long enough.
Except today she’d taken a risk. A detour. She’d strayed from her tried and true routine. What did one deviation from her plan hurt?
Maybe she should have run from all of it. Fled to the other side of the country. But he would expect that.
By staying here, Charlie was doing the unexpected.
She credited the weather for her decision. In Jackson Hole—the small valley carved out of the Teton and Gross Ventre mountain ranges where she grew up—she might dress for a sunny day in the midseventies, like today. But in mid-September, the weather could shift by the afternoon and turn cold, making her wish for her fringe leather jacket and Double D cowgirl boots Momma had given her five years ago when she’d turned sixteen. Silver studded. Turquoise and coffee leather. In fact, she wished for them now.
Except she couldn’t wear them. They would be a dead giveaway.
She walked along the boardwalk until the smell of leather wafted out of a western wear shop and her feet slowed. As if conjured by her thoughts, cowboy boots filled the window display. A whole rack of them were on clearance. The reflection in the glass gave her pause. Who was that looking at her? Fear smothered her. Her heart pounded.
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