by Lisa Harris
“I’m eating fine, Mama. But I’m not the only person who’s lost some weight.”
“Trust me, I could use a bit of downsizing.” Her mom laughed. “I’m just a bit worn out along the edges is all. Do you plan on seeing any of your old friends while you’re here?”
Jordan didn’t miss her mom’s deflection. “I don’t think I’m going to have a lot of free time, but I have seen Garrett, actually. Turns out we’re on this case together. He’s working with TBI now.”
“Really? I always liked that boy. And what about you? I’ve always wondered if you were ever sorry for leaving him behind.”
Funny how Garrett had asked her pretty much the same thing.
“Things between Garrett and I ended a long time ago.” A discussion about Garrett Addison was the last thing she wanted to get into right now. She’d enjoyed catching up with him last night, but that was it.
“Sorry.” Her mom put the pan of crispy puffs of cheese bread rolls into a long narrow basket. “But it’s hard not to wonder what would have happened if the two of you had married. I’m not sure if I told you, but I always thought you might.”
Jordan let out a sharp sigh. “We didn’t, so it doesn’t matter. And besides, like I just said, anything that was between the two of us was over a long time ago.”
Her mom took a sip of her coffee, then added another scoop of sugar. She’d never been able to get it sweet enough. “Any other men in your life?”
“I don’t exactly have time for a relationship right now, Mama, and even if I did . . . I don’t know. I haven’t found anyone who stirs my heart. Not like you always say Daddy does for you.”
Not like Garrett once had.
She dismissed the thought as soon as it surfaced. Fatigue and unwanted memories were playing with her emotions.
“It just seems like it’s time you thought about marriage and grandbabies.”
“One day. I’m not that old.”
“I just worry about you and want you to be happy.” Her mom reached out and ran her hand down Jordan’s cheek. “That’s what moms do.”
“I am happy. Really. I love my job. I have a circle of good friends. I’m part of a good church—”
“Stop trying to convince me.”
“Okay.”
Her mom caught her gaze before turning away. “There was a short segment about a serial killer on the loose. The media’s calling him the Angel Abductor and the FBI’s involved.”
“Mom—”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Jordan hesitated. “Yes.”
“I worried about you and your sister growing up, but today . . . I can’t believe the things that are happening.” She pulled Jordan in for a quick, hard embrace before looking at her again. “Will you be here for dinner tonight?”
“I should be. Will you make beans and rice?”
“Your father’s favorite meal and both my girls home? You know I could never pass up an offer like that.”
“Good, though if it’s too much for you, I can always take you out to dinner. I told you you’re working too hard.”
“Somehow I think you need some home cooking.”
“I need to get ready to leave.” Jordan downed the rest of her coffee, hoping the extra caffeine would be the boost she needed. “But I’ll be back as early as I can.”
Thirty minutes later, Jordan had showered and dressed and was almost ready to leave, when she heard someone calling her name.
“Now this room brings back memories.” Clara walked into the room, her gaze going directly to the open closet. “I guess I haven’t been in here for a while. Do you still have your varsity jacket?”
“Along with the pile of Beanie Babies, my collection of mood rings, and Mariah Carey CDs. Mom refuses to get rid of any of it.” Jordan pulled her sister into a hug. “I was hoping I’d get to see you today.”
“I just got off my shift and am headed home, but Mom said you were here.”
“You look good. Love the hair.”
“Thanks. I was afraid to cut it, but I like it a lot, actually.”
Her sister plopped down on the end of the bed while Jordan zipped up her suitcase. “And Alex? How’s he?”
“Working hard, as usual, but he’s happy. Business is great and he spends most of his time under a car, covered with grease, but that’s what makes him happy.”
“That and coming home to his new wife.”
“Marriage has a few challenges, but it’s worth it.” Clara shot Jordan a smile. “You should try it one day.”
“Don’t start that.” Jordan sat down next to her. “You sound as if you’ve been talking to Mom.”
“Yeah. She used to always bring up the marriage thing with me too, but now it’s the baby thing.”
“You’re making me wish I could just hang out here with all of you for the next week or two, but I’ve got this case here in town.” She always had a case. Always had a pile of paperwork to sort through. How was she supposed to find time to get to the altar with her schedule?
“Mom understands,” Clara said. “We all do.”
Jordan hesitated. “We need to talk about your email. You said you were worried about Mom.”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry. It’s just that . . . You talked to Mom. Did she tell you what’s going on?”
Jordan felt a wave of anxiety spread. “Tell me what?”
Clara’s frown deepened. “Mama’s sick, Jordan.”
Her sister’s words felt like a punch to the gut. “Wait a minute. What do you mean? I know she looks tired and she’s lost some weight, but—”
“It’s more than that. Her doctor’s running tests to find out exactly what’s wrong. We don’t have a diagnosis yet, but I think it’s something serious.”
Jordan pressed her lips together. It was what she’d always hated about being so far away. “Why didn’t you call and tell me something was wrong?”
“I knew you’d worry, and besides . . . we don’t know what it is, and it seemed like something you should be told in person. Though if it were up to Mom, she wouldn’t tell you at all.”
“Why not?”
“You know her. She wants everything to be like it always has been. That’s just who she is. The glass is half full, and everything will be okay. But this time . . . this time I’m not sure everything will be okay.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Clara?”
“We’ll know more once all the test results are in, and I promise I’ll let you know then.”
Jordan felt doubts she rarely struggled with surface like a tidal wave. “Did I make the wrong decision?”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been forced to think about regrets lately. I thought I could save the world when I joined the FBI. But instead, I’m rarely home and hardly ever see any of you, and sometimes I wonder just how much of a difference I’m actually making.”
“All I know is that Mom and Dad are proud of what you do. They always talk about their daughter who saves lives in the ER every day, and their other daughter who’s protecting our country.”
Jordan laughed. “That sounds like them.”
“They just want you to be happy. And giving them a couple grandchildren—each—wouldn’t hurt either.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“The only thing is, I’m not ready for kids. Not yet, anyway. We’re thinking of a puppy first. Then maybe in a couple years we’ll be ready for a baby.”
“I’m not ready either.” Jordan smiled, but all she could feel was the ache of homesickness she hadn’t had since college. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Clara squeezed Jordan’s hand. “But I don’t want you to feel bad about not being here. We all know you would be if you could.” She dropped Jordan’s hand and headed for the door. “I’m going to sneak out now and try to get home in time to have breakfast with Alex before he goes to work.”
“Sounds as if you meet each othe
r coming and going.”
“We’re learning to find time for each other. Breakfast dates, late-night movie marathons, pizza nights.”
And if Jordan made more of an effort with her family? Could she also squeeze in more special times?
“I’ve been told we’re having a family dinner tonight,” Clara continued. “I’ll see you then?”
“I’ll be there.” Jordan caught her sister’s gaze. “What if what’s wrong with Mom turns out to be something serious?”
“Then we deal with that when—and if—that day comes.”
8
6:58 a.m.
TBI Headquarters
Garrett stood in front of the crime board that had been lined with photos of the abducted girls, including the Polaroids that had been left behind. The original police sketch of their abductor hung next to the girls. But the description of the man had been too vague to make an arrest. They had so little to go on.
Detective Everston, who’d run the investigation on Julia’s disappearance, had given them the timeline they’d worked up while searching for her. There were still a few holes from the seventy-two hours before her disappearance, but they were now beginning to fill in the gaps. Except this time they were no longer looking for Julia. They were looking for her murderer.
Saturday morning Julia had arrived at the local coffee shop where she worked, clocking out at three thirty. According to a receipt on her normal route, she’d bought a bag of chips and a Coke at a gas station a ten-minute walk from her house. Video surveillance showed her leaving the station with no signs of distress. She’d had plans to spend the rest of the afternoon studying for a biology test with a friend at her house, but had called just before four to say she was running late. When her mom called her thirty minutes later, the call was automatically forwarded to her voice mail.
No one had heard from her since.
Officers had canvassed the ten-minute route she normally took home every day, talking to both shopkeepers and private residents. No one had seen anything unusual. Which meant she’d gone missing somewhere between 3:51 and about 4:20—vanishing without a trace.
Garrett rubbed his neck, trying to relax the tension that had spread from his temples down to his shoulders. The discovery of Julia’s body had hit the top of the news last night and would be the first thing people saw this morning when they checked the headlines. Fear was going to creep into the homes of thousands across this part of the country, with the knowledge that a killer was out there who hadn’t been caught. The fact that her murder was connected with the disappearance of two other girls—and the murder of one of them—was only going to throw fuel on the fire.
All they needed was a clear piece of evidence. DNA from the autopsy, a witness who could identify Julia’s abductor, a connection between the three girls . . . anything that would point them in the right direction.
Garrett reached for his barely lukewarm coffee and took a sip. He’d been restless last night, waking up every couple hours. And when he did sleep, his dreams weren’t of the case. Instead they’d been about Jordan. He’d enjoyed spending time with her. Enjoyed reminiscing about the past and catching up on her family.
He tossed the mostly empty cup into the lined trash can and frowned. The last thing he needed right now was a distraction. He sat back down and began working on the list he’d started two hours ago, looking for a connection between the three girls. Each of the families of the girls at the time of their disappearance had provided a detailed list of friends, coworkers, teachers, and favorite hangouts. If there was any overlapping between the three girls, anything that tied them together, he needed to find it. So far, though, the girls had run in completely different circles.
“Morning.” Jordan walked into the room and set her bag and a box of donuts on the table, then tugged off her blue scarf. “I’m assuming you still love maple donuts?”
He smiled. “Do you even have to ask? But what about you? I thought you were getting ready to run a marathon?”
“I didn’t say I was going to indulge.” She shot him a smile, then stepped up to the board. “What time did you get here?”
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided I might as well get some work done.”
“You should have called me. Anything new this morning?”
“I’ve primarily been going over the notes in Julia Kerrigan’s missing persons file as well as going through her social media profiles and looking for a connection to the other two girls. I think you’re right about Quinn not being involved. Everything points to our serial killer, including the fact that she’d felt as if someone was following her.”
“Where did you find that information?”
“Five days ago she sent a message to one of her friends that she felt like someone was watching her.”
“Any descriptions?”
“No.” He handed her a highlighted printout of the string of messages he’d found. “But she said there was a man hanging around the coffee shop that made her uncomfortable.”
“We need to get their video footage.”
“I’ve already left a message with the manager.” Garrett’s gaze trailed back to the board.
“But . . .”
He shook his head. “I’m not convinced we’ll find anything there.”
“Why not?”
He tapped his finger against the sketch. “This is the only composite we have. It could fit the profile of half the men who walked into the coffee shop that day.”
She stared at the photo.
“Jordan?”
She turned back to him. “Sorry. Like you, I didn’t sleep well. But someone had to have seen something. Because how does someone grab a girl in broad daylight without anyone seeing anything?”
“I don’t know.” Garrett let out a sharp sigh, feeling the mounting frustration that had kept him restless most of the night. “I’ve been studying the files of the other two girls believed to be connected. We have confirmation that the gun that killed Julia was the same gun that killed Jessica Wright. But even with our forensics team doing a thorough investigation of the crime scenes, very little evidence was recovered from any of the three cases.”
“But maybe that’s what’s most significant.”
“What do you mean?”
She stepped in front of the coffeepot brewing on the countertop and poured herself a cup. “I mentioned it at the crime scene, but I’m still convinced that whoever was behind this is meticulous. This wasn’t a crime of passion—it was planned out. From what you just said, we now have evidence that someone may have stalked all three of his victims before they disappeared. Each of them told someone that they felt like they were being followed.”
“But what was his motive? Why this girl? If you’re correct, it wasn’t simply because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was targeted. They were all targeted.”
“Which is why all of this makes Quinn seem less and less like the guy we’re after,” she said. “The slashed tires, the threats . . . they were responses to anger, not fastidious planning.”
“Agreed. And on top of that, the bartender verified that he was there from just before two until around six thirty the afternoon Julia disappeared. Which means, while it won’t help his case for custody of his daughter, it does take him off the hook for murder.”
“Okay.”
“And there’s another thing you’re going to want to see,” Garrett said, picking up a file. “It will be a while before we get the toxicology report, but here’s the initial autopsy report from the ME’s office.”
“Anything surprising?”
He shook his head. “Her death was pretty straightforward. She was shot in the head at close range. There are no defensive wounds. He probably had a weapon on her the whole time. We’ll know more once the rest of the reports are in, but the ME said he’s not expecting any surprises.”
“Time of death?”
“He’s estimating seventy-two hours before her
body was found.”
“So she was killed the same day she was abducted. What about DNA on her body? Anything that might point to our killer.”
“Nothing.”
He felt like they were going in circles. They kept coming up with the same empty answers, and they were no closer to finding out the truth than when the search had begun for Jessica Wright eighteen months ago.
Jordan sipped her coffee beside him. “We need to keep searching for a connection between the girls. Their schools, churches, communities, activities—”
“I hope you’re making some progress.” Sam walked across the room, stopping beside them. “The media’s grabbed on to this and isn’t going to let up until we give them some answers.”
“That’s going to be difficult, considering that so far we’ve got three girls who went missing, two bodies, and zero solid leads,” Garrett said, not even attempting to hide his frustration.
“The guy can’t be that good,” Sam said.
“I don’t think he is,” Jordan said.
“Meaning?” Garrett asked.
“I was up late working on a profile from the information I have. Without solid leads, we have to look at what we do know. The grave, the Polaroid shots . . .” She held up one of the photos of Julia from the crime scene. “The gunshot wound is up close and personal. He wants to be in control. He’s precise. Calculating.”
“How is that going to help us find him?” Sam asked.
“It’s not easy, but it means that our questions can’t just focus on how. They have to focus on why. When someone commits murder, the reasons behind that murder are usually revenge, or maybe domestic violence, or simply anger. A serial killer’s motivation is usually completely different.”
“And the profile you’ve been working on?” Garrett asked.
“For starters, the crime scenes show that he’s thorough. He plans ahead, stalks his victims, or at a minimum chooses them ahead of time. He’s precise, calculated, and maybe even a bit OCD.”
“Here’s another thing I want to know,” Garrett said, grabbing one of the donuts out of the box. “How does he get these girls to go with him? With all three girls, we never found evidence that he used violence to abduct them except for a couple bruises that may or may not be related. But would any of them get into a car with a total stranger? They’re all smart, with no family issues, at least not on the surface.”
