by Rita Herron
A power bill and a bank statement. She pulled out the statement and skimmed the summary of transactions. The grocery store, household bills, a payment to the florist and wedding caterer made two days before, all signs Kelly had planned to go through with the wedding.
Her account still held five thousand dollars, not enough money to warrant anyone kidnapping her for it. Then again, Kelly’s father was the one with the big bucks.
Satisfied the kitchen held no answers, she headed toward the couple’s bedroom, but the refrigerator caught her eye. A magnet held Kelly’s wedding invitation. Beside it, she noticed the invitation to the high school reunion.
The reunion was the week before Kelly’s wedding. The timing meant that a lot of Kelly’s friends would be in town. That is, if she still kept up with them.
Unlike her, Kelly had been a popular girl.
Moving on, she stepped into the bedroom. An eight-by-ten of Kelly and Fisher sat atop the dresser, the couple embracing for a romantic kiss. Both looked completely happy and in love.
More boxes were stacked on the floor. Most of the dresser drawers were empty, but when she opened the closet door, she found a long white satin wedding gown hanging inside. Pearl buttons ran down the back to the waist, where the gown flared with yards of organza and lace.
It was a beautiful dress; Kelly would have been a beautiful bride.
Had her life been cut short?
So far, her fiancé and father’s stories held up. She wanted to talk to Kelly’s girlfriends next. They might be able to shed some light on whether or not Fisher or Kelly’s father should be considered suspects.
If they were innocent, she couldn’t afford to waste too much time on them. Every minute she did meant whoever had taken Kelly was getting away.
If the same person who’d abducted the other missing girls had abducted Kelly, what was the reason? How was he choosing his victims?
Studying victimology could help her find answers.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she saw it was her deputy, Joe Morgan, so she snatched it up. “Hey, Joe, what’s up?”
“I got your message and will look into the bank angle. But I found Kelly Lambert’s car.”
“Where?”
“Off of Old River Mill Road.”
Amanda held her breath. “Was Kelly in it?”
“No,” Deputy Morgan said. “The car had nosedived into a ditch. There are skid marks on the road as if another car ran her off the road.”
Possibly a hit and run? “I’ll call a crime unit to lift the tire prints.”
“I’ll wait here for them. By the way, Kelly’s car is red, but I noticed pewter gray paint on the side. I’ll have them take samples of the paint, too.”
“Good work, Deputy. Did you search the area for Kelly? Maybe it was a hit and run and she’s lying hurt nearby?”
“I already looked. She’s not here, Sheriff. But I found a blood trail leading from Kelly’s car to the edge of the road.”
Amanda’s lungs constricted. So Kelly was hurt.
If the driver had forced Kelly to go with him, where was she now?
* * *
JUSTIN SEARCHED KELLY’S computer, first skimming her emails, but nothing stuck out. Some were personal correspondence with friends, excited chatter about the upcoming wedding, which confirmed Fisher’s story that Kelly still planned to marry him. Other notes were to vendors finalizing arrangements for the ceremony and reception. The emails were dated the day before Kelly disappeared, also confirming that she didn’t have plans to run away or cancel the wedding.
A note from someone named Eleanor Goggins asked if she was going to attend their high school reunion. Two others girls, Anise Linton and Mona Pratt, had joined that discussion, all commenting on how much fun it would be to get the old crowd back together again.
He checked Kelly’s financial records. Her account was stable, most transactions relating to household bills and payments to vendors. A large deposit had been added a week before from her father, which was probably meant to cover wedding costs. But nothing out of the ordinary.
He checked her browser history and found wedding decoration and planning sites, then noted she’d researched teaching positions and had sent applications to three different schools in Austin.
All confirmed Fisher’s story.
Next he examined her social media sites. She was on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads and Pinterest. He took a few minutes to skim her posts and discovered she liked mystery books and classics, and she tweeted and wrote Facebook posts about her job search and upcoming nuptials. Photos of her and Raymond filled her Facebook page: shots of them at college football games, hiking and sipping drinks on a beach vacation trip and engagement pictures taken at a mountain cabin.
Nothing suspicious. In fact, everything supported Fisher’s and Lambert’s story.
Amanda appeared from the bedroom, her expression troubled.
“What?” he asked.
She glanced at the patio and seemed to be relieved that Fisher was outside. “My deputy called. He found Kelly’s car.”
Justin arched a brow. “Where?”
“Out on Old River Mill Road.” She lowered her voice. “It appears someone ran her off the road. Deputy Morgan found blood on Kelly’s seat and paint from another car on her Toyota.”
Justin’s jaw tightened. “Someone intentionally ran her off the road, then abducted her?”
“That’s what it looks like. I’d like to go out to the site and see for myself.”
“Do you know what kind of car hit her?”
She shook her head. “No idea of the make and model yet, but it was pewter gray. Hopefully the crime team can tell us more from the paint sample.”
“What kind of car does Fisher drive?”
“A black Lexus. There was a picture of him and Kelly washing it.” Amanda’s expression softened. “They were laughing, covered in soap bubbles.”
He closed the laptop. “I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Let’s go see her car, then we’ll question the ex-boyfriend. If he drives a gray car, he might be our perp.”
Justin’s nerves jangled. He hoped to hell the ex was the man they were looking for. They might have a chance of getting Kelly back.
If not, she might disappear for months or years...or forever...like some of the other victims. And her father and fiancé might never know what happened to her.
* * *
AMANDA AND JUSTIN left with a word to Fisher that they’d keep him updated. Without even discussing the situation, they silently agreed not to tell him about finding Kelly’s car.
“What kind of car does Mr. Lambert drive?” Justin asked as Amanda drove toward Old River Mill Road.
“A silver Mercedes.”
“So far, Fisher and Lambert’s stories hold up.”
A sense of trepidation overcame Amanda. The image of Kelly’s wedding dress hanging in the closet taunted her. Poor Kelly...she had been excited about her wedding.
And now it may never happen....
Night shadows hovered along the road, a breeze stirring the dead leaves and blowing them across the road like tumbleweed. Everything was dry this time of year, the temperature chilly.
Deserted land and cacti sprang up, making her wonder why Kelly would have been driving out on Old Mill River Road. Where had she been going?
Had she been planning to meet someone? If so, whom?
And why out here in the middle of nowhere?
Amanda wound down the road, noting signs for rental cabins along the creek a few miles to the north, but spotted her deputy’s car ahead and pulled over.
“Why was she out here?” Justin asked as he climbed out.
She grabbed two flashlights, tossed him one, then retrieved her camera and a crime kit. “I was thinking the same thing.” She spotted the red Toyota down in the ditch. Her deputy walked toward them along the side of the road. “How did you find the car?” she asked.
“Tracked her cell phone.” Deputy Morgan held it u
p in his gloved hand. “Battery was low but it was still on.”
“Did you check her call history?” Amanda asked.
Deputy Morgan glanced at the Ranger, then at her, and Amanda realized she hadn’t introduced them. She quickly covered the bases and tugged on gloves
“Did you get anything from the phone?” Justin asked.
“Her last call was to a girl named Anise yesterday about ten a.m. After that, there were dozens of messages from the father and fiancé.”
Amanda took the phone and clicked to listen to a couple. Each message sounded more frantic and panicked. “Fisher and Lambert both sound worried,” she said.
“What about texts?” Justin asked.
Amanda checked the text log. “There’s a couple from Fisher. He sounds more and more anxious as the night wore on.”
“Fits with what they told us,” Justin commented.
She continued to scroll backward. “Wait a minute. There’s one here that came in yesterday about nine a.m. It’s from someone named Hailey. She asked Kelly to meet her at the cabins I saw on that rental sign. Something about a surprise for her fiancé.”
“We need talk to her. She may have had the last communication with Kelly.”
Amanda handed him the phone. “You want to call the tech team and have them trace that text?”
“Sure.” He glanced at the deputy. “Did you call a crime team in?”
The deputy nodded. “They should be here any minute.”
Amanda tried to recall if there had been a girl named Hailey in their graduating class, but couldn’t remember one. Maybe Kelly had met her at college instead of in Sunset Mesa. Or maybe she was a real-estate developer or event planner.
She shone her flashlight along the road as she followed the deputy, her heart hammering when he pointed out the blood trail near the car. Determined not to miss anything, she snapped photos of the car and surrounding area.
The driver’s door was open, the front window and bumper smashed, the weeds and brush crushed from the weight of footsteps—or a body.
Blood dotted the front seat and was splattered against the steering wheel.
But there was no sign of Kelly anywhere.
Except for her purse. It had fallen onto the floor, probably from the impact. Kelly’s lipstick, wallet and compact, along with other miscellaneous items, had spilled across the mat.
Amanda picked up the wallet and looked inside. Driver’s license and credit cards intact. Fifty dollars.
Not a robbery.
A cold chill swept over Amanda.
Judging from the blood on the seat, Kelly was injured. Although the amount of blood didn’t suggest there was enough blood loss to kill her.
But since had been injured, she’d been easy prey, too weak to fight off a kidnapper or escape.
Chapter Five
Justin looked up and down the road while he waited on tech to check the phone records. The tire marks needed to be photographed and studied—maybe they could discern the make of the car from the prints.
They might even get lucky and find some forensics evidence to help them.
The tech cleared his throat into the phone. “Okay, the text from Hailey came from a burner phone. There’s no way to trace it or find out who bought the phone.”
Dammit. “What about the fiancé’s phone records? He said he received a text from Kelly saying she was going to spend the night with a friend named Betty Jacobs. But Betty said she didn’t come over. Did Kelly call the Jacobs girl?”
A slight hesitation, and Justin heard computer keys tapping, then the tech’s voice again. “There’s a minute-long call to Betty Jacobs yesterday morning about eight o’clock but nothing afterward.”
Justin headed down the hill to examine the car, noting the blood splatters on the car door. “Check Fisher’s records.”
Another moment passed and Justin reached Amanda. She and the deputy were searching the trees surrounding the car crash.
He shone a flashlight and caught sight of a partial footprint to the left, then noticed a stiletto heel stuck in a patch of weeds.
“Sergeant Thorpe,” the crime tech said. “I just examined Fisher’s phone and you won’t believe this, but the text that Kelly received from the burner phone—well, that came from the same phone that sent the message to Fisher saying Kelly wouldn’t be home that night.”
“So Kelly didn’t send that text to Fisher. The kidnapper did.”
“I’m surprised Fisher didn’t notice that the number was different.”
“There are a lot of their friends in town for the reunion. Maybe he thought she was using one of their phones.”
The facts clicked together in Justin’s mind, giving him a good idea of what had happened. He told the tech to keep looking at all the phone records from Lambert, Fisher and Kelly, then hung up and called out to Amanda.
“Did you find something?” Amanda asked.
“A shoe.” He pointed to the foliage and Amanda raced over, then knelt to examine it. Her gaze shot back and forth from the car door to the wooded area and the trail leading back up to the road. “The driver hit Kelly’s car, then dragged her from the crash and forced her into his vehicle.”
Justin nodded. “That’s how it appears.” He sighed. “I just talked to tech. The text Kelly received asking her to meet this person Hailey was sent from a burner phone.”
“So Hailey could be a fake name?”
“Probably. The text Kelly supposedly sent Fisher saying she was going to her friend Betty’s house for the night—that was a fake. It came from the same burner phone.”
Amanda ran a hand through her hair. “I assume there’s no way to trace the number?”
“Afraid not. The texts were obviously a setup.”
Amanda winced. “Someone lured her out here with the intention of kidnapping her and doing God knows what else.” She gestured toward a shoe in the bushes. “The question is why? And if he went to all that trouble to lure her out here, then our unsub targeted her specifically.”
He admired her logical mind. “That’s true. Up until now, we wondered if the victims were chosen randomly. Now we know that someone specifically wanted Kelly Lambert.”
“But who?” Amanda asked. “So far Mr. Lambert and Fisher seem to be telling the truth.”
“Let’s talk to Kelly’s ex-boyfriend,” Justin said. “Maybe he wanted her back badly enough to kidnap her.”
* * *
AMANDA CONSIDERED HIS comment. It was a very likely scenario. Especially if Terry Sumter was obsessed with Kelly and was desperate to win her back.
Although they had to look at all angles.
“That’s a possibility,” Amanda said. “But there’s another one that might fit.”
“What?”
“Maybe another woman wanted Raymond and decided to get Kelly out of the way so she could move in on him.”
Justin frowned. “We’ll talk to Kelly’s girlfriends and Fisher’s male friends. Hopefully one of them can give us some insight there.” He gestured toward the car. “We might luck out and find a print or hair that the kidnapper left behind.”
The sound of an engine rumbling echoed from the road, and they all climbed the hill together. The crime van rolled up, techs spilling out with their kits. Amanda thanked the deputy and asked him to go back to the office to man the phones and follow up with the bank. By now, Kelly’s photograph should have gone into the system. They could only hope someone would call in with a lead.
Another officer brought a police dog and began to search the area.
The head of the unit introduced himself as Lieutenant Gibbons, then pointed out the other workers by name. A redheaded woman named Petunia, a chubby guy named Larry, a rail-thin guy with funky glasses named Jerry, and the guy with the dog was named Herbert.
Amanda explained what they’d discovered so far and handed over the shoe to be bagged and sent to the lab. The next hour they scoured the area in case Kelly had somehow escaped, but finally even the dog team
gave up.
“We’ll take a cast of the tire print,” Lieutenant Gibbons said. “And we’re going over the car with a magnifying glass.”
“Run the paint sample through the lab, too,” Justin said. “Maybe the paint was custom designed for a particular vehicle.”
Amanda checked her watch. “It’s getting late, but I want to talk to the bridal party tonight.” She removed her phone and called Fisher. “Call everyone in the bridal party and tell them to meet me at the sheriff’s office in half an hour.”
“Did you find something?” The young man’s voice warbled as if he’d been crying.
“We’ll talk when Sergeant Thorpe and I get there.”
She disconnected, dread balling in her stomach. Telling Kelly’s fiancé and father about finding the car would be difficult. If they’d harbored any shred of hope that Kelly had simply gone away for a couple of days without telling anyone, the fact that they’d found blood would kill that hope.
* * *
JUSTIN STUDIED THE group of young men and women who’d gathered in the sheriff’s office.
Kelly’s bridesmaids and best friends—Betty Jacobs, Anise Linton, Mona Pratt and Eleanor Goggins—were all attractive women in their twenties, although they were a mixture of brunettes, blondes and redheads.
Any one of them could have fit the profile of the victims who’d disappeared over the past few years. So far, the kidnapper didn’t have a clear MO, which had slowed down the police in connecting the cases in the beginning. Normally a kidnapper/killer chose a certain type—all blondes or brunettes or redheads. This unsub seemed to have no preference for hair color or body type or career choice.
Except they were all in their twenties and lived in Texas.
The groomsmen looked nervous as they settled into wooden chairs. Glenn Cates, Danny Latt and Lance Stephens. Fisher’s father, Ernie, was his best man. He stood beside his son with a hand on his shoulder.
Raymond looked even worse tonight, the strain of the day wearing on him.
Amanda had taken Kelly’s father to her back office to explain to him about the car and their findings.
