“Won’t that endanger them?” Gillian asked as soon as he’d completed the call. “I can get another car from the bureau.”
“Which the perp could spot in a second. I’m making sure that no one’s following us.” Brad headed down a long stretch of road. “Of course this street’s flat—we are in Houston. But what is rare is the lack of traffic. It dead-ends into an airplane hangar that we can park behind. If anyone’s following us, we’ll know.”
Gillian stared at the unfamiliar road. “I don’t see a street sign.”
“Private road. That’s what makes it ideal. People don’t drive this street unless they’re going to the hangar or they’re lost.”
Gillian was very glad he was on her side. They made it to the end of the road with no one in sight behind them. Brad sped up in the last quarter mile, finally driving behind the huge metal building with a screech of tires. Getting out, they waited at the edge of the hangar’s side, out of sight but able to see far down the road. After fifteen minutes it was clear that no one had followed them.
Still Brad was careful as they drove back up the road. With no side streets or places for a car to hide, they were able to see that the road remained empty. Yet Brad continued his evasive maneuvers.
Gillian was still worried about putting Brad’s parents in harm’s way. However, she had to admit his plan was good. He had phoned the mechanic, explaining that he would leave the car for a tune-up.
When they reached the lot, Brad quickly pushed his keys through the night drop-off slot while Gillian hid in the back seat of his father’s car. Just as rapidly, Brad donned the jacket and golfing cap he’d asked Thomas to leave in the front seat. They sailed out of the lot scarcely a minute after they’d arrived.
A few miles later, Brad turned to speak over his shoulder. “No one’s following us.”
Cautiously Gillian sat up, glancing out the rear window. “Looks that way.” She exhaled before the realization struck her. This was only the beginning of a night spent with Brad.
LATE THAT NIGHT the cell phone rang incessantly. Sleepy and disoriented, Gillian pushed aside the blanket as she reached for the phone.
Her drowsiness faded as she listened. Glancing up, she saw Brad at the doorway, equally alert.
She reached for the notepad on the end table, scribbled on it briefly, then clicked off the phone. Staring at the words, she slowly pulled the sheet of paper from the pad.
“Gillian?”
“They found her body.” Gillian cleared her throat. “Tamara Holland. She was in the backyard of an abandoned house.”
Brad crossed the room, yanking open a dresser drawer, retrieving a pair of jeans. “Who responded to the call?”
“Uniforms.” Collecting herself, Gillian reached for the shirt and slacks she’d worn that day. Conscious of Brad’s presence, she stepped into the walk-in closet to dress.
Accustomed to the need for expediency, both were ready and out the door in minutes. Although Houston’s streets were never empty, there was little traffic to slow them down at one in the morning.
Flashing emergency lights lit up the street that had been cordoned off, and members of the CSU combed the area. Vans parked haphazardly around the scene announced that the press had arrived.
Gillian turned to Brad. “I’m meeting Savino. You can’t be here.”
Although she could see it cost him, Brad nodded. “I’ll park behind the Channel Eleven van.”
“I can catch a ride to the station.”
She reached for the door handle, but he snagged her arm. “I know you can, Gillian, but I’ll be here just in case.”
Swallowing, she nodded, then ran from the car.
Just in case.
THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT had lifted, but the morning was gray and threatening. Gillian had ceased tasting the bitter coffee she consumed.
But she couldn’t erase the taste of defeat and rage she’d felt at seeing Tamara Holland’s body. Captain Maroney and her boss, Edward Phillips, had gone in person to notify the girl’s parents.
A new edge of desperation gripped everyone involved in the case. Katie Johnson might have only hours or minutes left.
Gillian called the task force together. They studied the storyboard assembled in the squad room, reviewing the facts. Although she briefly cautioned them about releasing any more information, she didn’t probe into the source of the leak. There simply wasn’t time.
Having no leads was disastrous. Having thousands were nearly as bad. Gillian scanned the pages and pages of reported sightings that had come in to the station within the past twelve hours. Even with four other detectives and nearly a squad of uniformed officers it would take days to sort through the leads. It was almost fatally easy to discard the obvious crank calls. But what if the obvious was also the truth? If they ignored the wrong tip, a child could die.
While the team tackled their assignments, Gillian decided to work on a hunch she had. It was time to put her idea into the federal computer.
BRAD CLICKED OFF HIS cell phone, pondering the change in his parents. Even though they were concerned after the bizarre car exchange, they were in control. Not ready to fall to pieces as they once would have done.
Brad was grateful, but also somewhat disconcerted. He had shared the special bond of loss with them for as long as he could remember. Now it seemed they were ready to move on. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he felt as though he were being left behind.
That, combined with the night he’d spent watching the investigation from arm’s length, had him rethinking the way he handled himself. Maybe Gillian was right. Maybe it was time for him to move on, as well.
The discovery of Tamara Johnson forcibly reminded him how long it had been since Katie Johnson had vanished. Seventy-four percent of children murdered by non-family members were killed within the first three hours of their abduction. Could young Katie continue to defy the odds when Tamara apparently hadn’t? He hoped the coroner would be able to establish the time of Tamara’s death quickly.
Gillian’s most recent call had let him know that volunteers continued to search woods and fields, but Katie’s body hadn’t been discovered.
Of course with the new publicity, people were tracking all over the area, primarily getting in the way. Now dogs trained to scent out human remains had also been brought in.
Brad wondered if they should widen the search, taking it in another direction. Interviews in the girls’ neighborhoods had gotten them nowhere. Maybe it was time to move beyond the self-imposed boundaries.
Spotting Gillian’s car, he waited impatiently, wanting to discuss his thoughts. She stepped from the car, her face wary.
In the privacy of his own vehicle, Brad sighed. Lord, they had a mess of baggage to deal with.
She slid into his SUV. “I don’t have much time. I left Savino in charge, but the station’s still under siege from the press and public.”
“Any forensic evidence from the scene?”
Gillian shook her head. “It wasn’t the murder site. She’d been dumped there.”
“And from the body?”
“The heat, humidity…” She stared ahead, as though willing away the image. “Nothing yet.”
“Is there a preliminary estimate on the time of death?”
“It’s hard to pinpoint. Six to eight weeks.”
Tamara Holland had been missing eight and a half weeks. Which meant the perp hadn’t kept her alive more than a week or so. That was bad news for Katie. She’d been missing for less than a week, and in these cases, the time between crimes usually lessened.
“Gillian, have you thought about taking the investigation in another direction?”
“Such as?”
He outlined his thoughts. “I’d like to widen our parameters, check anything child-related. I’m thinking amusement parks, specialty shops, anywhere our perp could have encountered the victim.”
“You mean he may have specifically targeted these girls? Watched them for a while?”
&n
bsp; “We’ve been trying to put together a profile of the perp based strictly on what we know about Tamara’s and Katie’s abductions. But what if we factor in the way he’s zeroed in on you as a threat?”
She nodded slowly. “The bureau profiler has the information. I can ask him for another analysis.”
Brad realized his own participation might end with the disclosure. But he couldn’t consider that. Instead he thought of Katie and prayed she was still alive.
“Where do you want to start?” Gillian asked, flipping open her phone.
“Panda Park. It’s not far.”
“I think I’ve heard of it—rides and cartoon characters,” Gillian mused.
“That’s the one.” Brad wove through the growing stream of traffic. As he drove, Gillian called Savino and the profiler, then updated her boss. From the end of the conversation he could hear, Brad guessed Edward Phillips wasn’t overjoyed with her report.
Gillian glanced at Brad once she concluded the conversation. “Don’t ask.”
“Then can I ask something else?”
“Sure.”
“Did the profiler see a link between the case in Tyler and ours?”
“Other than the carnival, no. Vicki and Shawn haven’t learned anything that can connect any carnival employees to the crime.”
Brad spotted the Panda Park sign and turned in. “Did they check on casual laborers the carnival hired locally?”
“Carnival owners aren’t the best record keepers. But they would notice if they hired the same people in Tyler and Houston. The profiler has the information on both other girls. He doesn’t see the older girl fitting at all with the younger ones.”
“Ironic, isn’t it? The Wrights, at least Mr. Wright, didn’t want their daughter back. And it’s all the other parents can think of.”
Gillian’s eyes flashed with understanding. “Like you were with Amanda.”
Not that Brad wanted the Wrights’ daughter to be harmed. It was just difficult understanding fate. “Yeah.”
Brad parked the SUV close to the entrance of the kiddie park. There wasn’t a formal office, just a counter with a cashier who directed them to a woman standing amid rows of picnic tables.
Hearing the nature of their mission, the woman was immediately sympathetic. “I’m not sure I can help you. I didn’t know any of those girls.”
Brad met Gillian’s glance. Already the public had lumped them together. “We’re doing fact-finding right now. Do you have large crowds during the week?”
The woman shook her head. “Not really. We sell individual ride tickets and that brings in a few people.” She gestured toward the balloons she was attaching to overhead rafters. “But most of our business comes from birthday parties. Usually they’re held on the weekends, but we get the occasional one during the week. We furnish hot dogs, the cake and party favors. Parents find it a lot easier than trying to entertain children at home.”
Brad’s mind clicked as he heard her words. Children’s parties, keeping them entertained. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
The woman looked puzzled. “Well, I’m glad, but I don’t see how.”
“I’m with her,” Gillian told him as they reached the car. “How did that help?”
“We haven’t found Katie’s body, despite massive searching that’s still going on.”
“Which gives me the hope that she’s still alive.”
“Exactly. What reason would the perp have for doing that?”
Gillian’s face grew grim. “A multitude of horrendous options.”
“And in the remote chance it’s not torture, how would he entertain a young girl?”
“Toys, dolls…”
Brad drove out of the parking lot. “Or a party.”
“That’s a far stretch.”
“True,” he admitted. “But what if we check out all the toy stores and party shops?”
“We can run a computer analysis and narrow down the areas that have both in close proximity. I can divide the grid between the team.”
“Thanks, Gillian. I know it’s only a hunch—”
“Sometimes we have to follow them.”
As head of the investigation, Gillian could have quashed his idea. And his instinct was strongly urging him to pursue it.
Not only for their young victim’s sake, but also for Gillian’s. He was terrified that her time was running out, as well.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE CASHIER IN THE PARTY goods store pursed her lips, contemplating Brad’s question. “Well, there was this one guy. He was real picky about what he was buying. He wanted everything imaginable for a party, but the weird thing was he only wanted two of each item. I asked him if he was sure he didn’t want more. Who has a party with only one guest? But he said that was the perfect party. Didn’t make any sense.”
“Do you remember how he paid?” Brad asked.
“Cash. I commented that the bills were brand new.” The clerk frowned. “He didn’t seem to like that.”
“Can you describe him to a sketch artist?” Gillian asked.
“I think so.”
Gillian pulled out her phone. “I’ll have an officer pick you up and drive you to the station.”
Stepping outside onto the sidewalk, Gillian glanced up at Brad. “Good instincts.”
“If it pans out.” He pointed across the street to a bank. “And if our perp is confining himself to the neighborhood, he might use that bank to get his crisp new bills.”
Gillian frowned. “Why so close to the scene? He has to know the entire city is being searched.”
“Why choose exposing himself by stalking the FBI agent on the case? It’s part of the thrill, the control, the power.”
Gillian ignored the shiver his words caused. “We can have Fulton and Turner get the bank security tapes and go over them.”
Her phone rang. Listening to Vicki, Gillian felt an affirmation that they were on the right track. The cashier in a toy store nearby had remembered a man purchasing two identical dolls. He’d stood out in the cashier’s memory because when asked if the dolls were for his daughters, he’d clammed up, paid, then left without waiting for his change. The cashier was already en route to the precinct to meet with a sketch artist. Gillian instructed Vicki to coordinate that sketch with the one made by the clerk from the party store.
Brad lit up at the news. “Maybe this is it. And just maybe we’ll be able to save this girl.”
Gillian felt her throat tighten, wondering how different her life might have been if Amanda had been found. Glancing at Brad, she realized how desperately he needed this case to be solved successfully.
Together they decided to check out a few more places before doubling back to pick up the sketches. The candy store they entered seemed a likely place, but the clerk didn’t remember anyone out of the ordinary.
As they turned to leave, Gillian noticed a little girl on her own. Despite all the publicity, apparently her parents weren’t keeping her locked safely away. As she watched, a man entered the store and still the little girl wandered unsupervised.
Brad completed his questions and turned to leave, but Gillian stayed him by snagging his arm. “Let’s wait for a minute.”
Brad followed her gaze, lowering his voice. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, her focus on the child. The man took another step closer. Instinctively, Gillian did as well. When he reached the counter, she tensed. But just as she was about to stalk forward, the little girl turned away from the glass display case and the man remained, studying the rows of candy. At about the same time, the girl’s mother appeared from the back of the store and took her hand. They headed outside together.
As Gillian stared after them, she wondered how parents ever drew a safe breath. Children were so vulnerable, so fragile. In less than a minute they could be snatched away, gone forever. Gillian nearly choked at the realization. This was how Brad had always felt. That to bear a child could also mean losing a child.
; She felt the blood drain from her face.
Brad gripped her elbow. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
On the sidewalk, she took big gulps of air.
“What was that all about?” he asked, leading her to a concrete bench that circled one of the tall, leafy trees.
Swallowing, she wasn’t sure she could tell him. Briefly she closed her eyes, thinking of the pain that unspoken words had already cost them. “I think I finally understand how you feel.”
When she hesitated, he took her hand. “Go on.”
“Your fear of losing a child. Logically I’ve always understood. But emotionally I’m not sure I ever fully grasped how paralyzing that is.”
“What brought this on? The little girl in the candy store?”
“I thought the man who came in was going to try to take her away. And I realized just how easy that would be. On a professional basis, I’ve always known that. I guess since we seem to be getting closer, seeing another little girl…”
Brad gently increased the pressure on her hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s difficult to understand a loss like that unless you’ve experienced one.”
Gillian kept her head downcast, the irony of his words refusing to be still. It was time, she realized, to tell him the truth. “Brad, that’s not true. I did have a loss. A significant loss.”
He said nothing, so she looked up to see a dumbfounded expression on his face.
She continued. “When I was in college, I became pregnant. I went into premature labor late in my fifth month.” She felt the hot whisper of tears as they slid down her cheeks at the remembered agony. “The baby was so tiny…. He only lived a few hours.”
Brad’s voice was hoarse. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
She wiped at her tears. “I didn’t want you to agree to have a baby out of pity.”
“Oh, Gilly.” His arms pulled her close. “I can’t believe you kept this inside so long.”
The tears refused to stop. And although Gillian doubted the wisdom of burying her face in his shoulder and allowing them to flow, she let herself sink into his comfort. She cried not only for the loss of her baby but of their love, their marriage.
Vanished (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 14
