Mrs. Mabry motioned her in. “This is Detective Wolfe and Special Agent Samantha Cash. They need to talk to you about Miranda.”
Instantly, the big green eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to talk about her. It hurts too much.”
Her mother slid an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “I know, honey, but you’ve got to tell them anything you remember about Miranda’s last moments with you. It might help them find her killer.” A sheen covered the woman’s eyes and she closed them for a moment. When she opened them, she looked at Connor. “Ask her what you need to, please. She’ll cooperate.” She looked back at Alyssa. “Right?”
“Right.” Her chin quivered. “But I can’t promise not to cry.”
Samantha’s heart hurt for the girl even as cold fury at the individual who was causing all this pain gripped her hard.
Connor asked, “Did you go with Miranda when she was supposed to meet with that guy from the modeling agency?”
Surprise lit Alyssa’s eyes. “Yes, I did. How did you know she met with someone? I don’t remember telling anyone that, because she didn’t want her parents to find out. I mean it wasn’t like she was doing anything wrong, but they thought the modeling stuff was dumb and wanted her to focus on school and . . .” She trailed off.
Samantha almost groaned out loud. Important information and the tight-lipped loyalty of a teen. A deadly combination in this instance.
If Connor had the same thought, he didn’t show it. Eager now, he leaned forward. “Could you tell us what the guy looked like? The one that she met?”
“No, I’m sorry, but I never saw him.”
“What? What do you mean? You just said you went with her.”
“I did, but he was late. Miranda and I were sitting in the food court, eating, drinking, talking. Finally, I had to go to the bathroom. Miranda did too. But she didn’t want to take a chance on missing the guy. So, I went by myself. When I came back, she was gone.”
“And she didn’t leave you a message or anything?”
“She texted me saying she was leaving for a little while and for me to go on home.”
“She texted you? Did she use her own phone or a different one?”
A puzzled expression twisted Alyssa’s pretty features. “A different one. One that he’d given her. But how did you know?”
“It doesn’t matter. What happened next?”
“I texted her back a couple of times. She answered me once, saying she was fine, not to say anything to her parents and she would see me soon.” She bit her lip. “But I was a little worried . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence, her eyes darting toward her mother, then back to Connor.
Sam said gently, “You were worried because . . .”
“She . . . wasn’t . . . um . . . feeling too well. She was really pale and said she felt a little sick.”
“And do you know why she felt sick? Some bad food, maybe?”
Connor knew perfectly well why Miranda wasn’t feeling well. The question was, did Alyssa know? Samantha’s gut told her Alyssa had probably gone with Miranda to get the abortion. One didn’t have to be an expert on body language to read the shifting feet, twisting fingers, flitting eyes. The girl was nervous and afraid, and she had a secret.
“Alyssa.”
Sam’s quiet voice had the desired effect. Alyssa looked at her and stilled.
“We know why Miranda wasn’t feeling well. Now we need every detail.”
16
She was good. Connor looked at Samantha in surprise, then didn’t know why he was surprised. After all, she’d gone through the FBI training academy just as he had. But she was definitely a natural interrogator. Reading the person being questioned, picking up the verbal and nonverbal cues like a pro, honing in with the right tone of voice.
Alyssa dropped her head into her hands and started crying, quiet, massive sobs that shook her shoulders as she rocked back and forth. Her mother rushed to her and slipped her arms around her.
She looked at Connor, concern, fear, a little bit of anger mixed in her expression. “I think that’s enough.”
“Ma’am, your daughter is our only link right to the missing girls. Please, let her get her composure and permit us to continue talking to her. She may be the only hope these other girls have.” He didn’t need the woman’s permission, but tried to phrase his words in a way that would make her feel more in control of the situation.
Mrs. Mabry swallowed hard, looked at her hiccupping child, and sighed. She leaned forward to touch Alyssa’s head with her own. “Come on, Alyssa, darling. You’ve got to tell these people what you know. Miranda would want you to. It might mean saving another girl’s life. Pull it together, sweetie.”
A shuddering groan escaped Alyssa’s throat, and Connor felt her anguish deep in him. Andrew would . . .
He almost groaned himself from the shaft of agony that ripped through him.
“She’d had an abortion,” Alyssa finally ground out between clenched teeth. Ignoring her mother’s horrified gasp, Alyssa went on. “That day. She’d found someone who would do it pretty cheap and she didn’t have to have parental consent.”
“Where?”
“A place just outside of town.” She shuddered. “It was horrible. Just a little one-room place that didn’t look like it had been there very long.” Connor made a note to get directions from her and have that checked out right away. “I tried to talk her out of it, I promise, I really did. I told her she would get some kind of infection or disease. But she wouldn’t listen. I . . . waited in the car, refused to go in, but I . . . couldn’t just leave her there. And if I hadn’t taken her, someone else would have. At least I could kind of keep an eye on her, but then . . .”
She pushed her palms down her jeans, then rubbed her hands together like they were cold. Taking a deep breath, she swiped a few stray tears. “When she came out, she was stumbling, weak. I had to help her into the car. I took her home, and when she got out of the car, there was some blood on the seat, not a lot, but enough to make me worry. I asked her if I could take her to the doctor, a real doctor. She said she just needed to lie down. I left, then about two hours later she called me and said she had to meet someone at the mall and would I go with her.” “How did she sound on the phone?”
“Weak, sick, but excited too. I told her no way, she needed to rest. I was worried she was going to bleed to death or something.”
Connor flicked a look at Samantha. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, shaking her head. He turned back to Alyssa.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone this after she was found?”
Alyssa looked to the ceiling. “I thought . . . I didn’t want to make it worse. She was dead and . . .” She shrugged. “What difference would telling that to someone make?”
“Wait a minute. Make what worse?”
She groaned and briefly closed her eyes. “Her reputation. All the kids at school were talking about her behind her back, laughing at her, calling her names. And Charlie, he was the father of the baby, he wanted Miranda to keep it, but said there was no way he was ruining his life with a kid. She was on her own. When he told her that, she made up her mind. And once she made up her mind, there wasn’t much anyone could do to change it.”
Connor’s notebook was filling up fast. He flipped the page. “So, you took her to the mall. Went to the bathroom, came back, and she was gone.” He looked at Samantha. “Are there any security cameras in that food court?”
“I’ll check.” She got up and walked into the kitchen to make the call.
“Okay, Alyssa, just a bit more. We found an IM on one of the girls’ computers saying she needed to bring a complete medical history to the meeting. Do you know if Miranda got her medical records?”
Alyssa’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I know she did because she was excited that they were ready that day. We actually swung by the office and picked them up before going to the mall to meet that guy.”
Connor wrote down the name and address of the doctor’s office. �
��Anything else you can tell me?”
Tears welled again. “Um . . . maybe. I don’t know if this is important or not, but she was a little put out because she had to have a complete physical. Like a pap smear and everything. She wanted to know what that had to do with walking down the runway. Anyway, that’s when she found out she was pregnant and got really scared. That was about a week before she . . . disappeared.”
“Scared that if her parents found out, they’d be mad?”
“Yes, them and Charlie and what this was going to do for her modeling chances, her scholarship. Everything. But she made up her mind that she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She’d have the abortion and get on with her life and career.”
Well, they knew one thing. Miranda had the abortion before the meeting at the mall. “Thank you, Alyssa, you’ve been a big help.”
“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you all this before.”
“You’ve told us now and that’s what counts.” Not really, but he wasn’t going to let her carry that burden the rest of her life. She was a scared teen who’d just lost her best friend. Connor could relate. “Oh, one more question. Where did she get the money for the abortion?”
“From the modeling guy. He sent her a thousand dollars as a kind of down payment thing, I guess. He told her to use it to buy a dress for the photo shoot. She . . . um . . . used part of it for the abortion.”
Connor sharpened his gaze. “Sent it to her? How?”
Alyssa shrugged. “Through the mail, I guess. The money came the day after the doctor’s appointment, not the abortion appointment, but the first one she had. She was thrilled and scared all at the same time.”
Samantha came back in the room. “Five cameras working, one not.”
Relief flooded him. He made a note about that first doctor’s appointment, then called in their location, their destination, and ordered a team out to the address where Miranda had gotten her abortion. Dakota would report back anything found there.
He looked at Samantha. “Let’s go find out what this guy looks like.”
The Agent sipped his coffee and turned the page of the newspaper he had spread out in front of him. He’d made the front page again. And the article was so long it was continued on page three. A summary of the missing and dead girls read like a police report.
But no mention of the missing babies. At least that area seemed to be going well. Not that they didn’t suspect a black market baby ring, but that’s all they had. Suspicion.
Satisfaction filled him. He’d been careful. Covered his tracks. Thought of everything. He had nothing to be worried about, and yet . . .
That small niggle of uneasiness worked its way into his brain and no amount of rationalizing or trying to convince himself he hadn’t left a traceable trail behind could silence it.
Another sip of coffee slid down. It was time. Under the table, he snapped on a rubber glove, rose, and started out of the restaurant. He bypassed several tables, stopping briefly to check his phone.
Then continued on his way.
Stopped to punch in a text message.
Then dropped the phone into the trash.
Message delivered.
The director of mall security pulled up the surveillance video in question. Tuesday evening a week ago. “We have six cameras and keep these going all the time. They hold about seven days’ worth of video. You’re right on the edge here.”
He clicked keys on the computer in front of him, scrolling through the days and time up to the point where Connor said, “Okay, stop there. Let’s just watch it.”
“Huh,” the director said, “you got lucky.”
Samantha watched the glass doors, waiting for a familiar face to appear. Finally. “There. That’s Alyssa and Miranda.” The two girls chatted as they walked through the seating area, carefully looking at each face as though searching for someone. As long as they didn’t venture left or right, the camera would stay on them.
No such luck. They went left. The director punched a few more keys. This time the camera angled from in front of them.
Sam observed, “Miranda really doesn’t look well. See the expression on her face?”
“Yeah. She looks ready to hurl.”
Miranda grabbed Alyssa’s arm and stumbled. Alyssa caught her, said something that brought a grimace to Miranda’s face as she shook her head. Alyssa guided her friend to a chair and Miranda sank into it.
Alyssa said something else, pointed, and Miranda nodded. Connor muttered, “Probably going to get something to eat for them.”
A few minutes later she appeared on camera again.
“Right, here she comes with a tray.”
For the next ten minutes, the girls talked and finished their meal with Miranda looking at her watch every few seconds, then glancing at the glass doors. “She’s watching for him.”
Connor grunted. “There goes Alyssa.” The girl wandered across the food court and out of range of the camera. “To the restroom.”
And here came the guy. Shoulders hunched, left arm in a sling, shaggy black hair sticking out from under a baseball cap.
Connor swore. “Can’t see his face.”
“Of course not,” Samantha said softly. “He knows there are cameras all over the place. I bet that hair isn’t real either.”
“He’s got on glasses.”
“Clean shaven.”
Three minutes passed. Miranda shook her head at something the guy said. He reached over with his good hand and touched hers in a comforting manner. He said something else. Miranda grinned, nodded, and pulled out her cell phone. Fingers flew over the numbers, then she snapped it closed.
Sam slapped the desk. “She’s texting Alyssa to let her know she’s leaving.”
“What’s taking Alyssa so long?” Connor asked. “Does it really take that long to use the bathroom?”
Sam studied the two figures walking out of the food court. Miranda’s gait, slow, unsteady, but determined. The food had helped—she seemed to have a bit more strength than she did when she’d first walked in. The guy kept his head bent toward Miranda, his face still hidden by the ball cap. “Alyssa got delayed.”
“You think he sent someone to stall her? To give him time to get Miranda out of the place so Alyssa wouldn’t see him?”
“Maybe, or something legitimate happened. As worried as she was about Miranda, I don’t think she would have stayed in the bathroom that long without something keeping her in there.”
Connor pulled out his cell, dialed a number, and waited. “This is Detective Wolfe, Mrs. Mabry. Is Alyssa still there? I have one more question for her, if you don’t mind.”
A pause. Then Connor said, “Hi, Alyssa. You said you went to the restroom, then when you came back out, Miranda was gone. How long were you in the restroom and did you talk to anyone while you were in there? Uh-huh. Okay. Right. Thanks. Bye.”
Samantha didn’t look away from the screen. “Look, there’s Alyssa coming back to the table. She’s looking around. See the puzzled look? She’s wondering where Miranda went.”
Then Alyssa pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Opened it. “She’s reading the message Miranda sent her.”
Fear crossed the girl’s face. She sent an answer to the text immediately. Sat down and waited. While Alyssa sat, Connor explained the phone call. “Alyssa said a lady came in with a baby and a toddler. The toddler kept trying to get out the door while the mom was trying to change the diaper. Alyssa held on to the older one while the mom finished up.”
“So, it was just a freak thing, or did our guy pay the mom to ask Alyssa to do that?”
“No telling. We probably won’t ever know. As charming as this fellow seems to be, if he paid the mother, she probably thought it was all some kind of joke . . . or a surprise party, or whatever. And the arm in the sling was a good touch. Elicits sympathy.”
“Yeah.” Samantha knew he was right, but it was still frustrating all the same.
Five minutes went by. Alyssa finally
stood and walked to the glass doors. The director kept switching cameras to keep the girl in view just as he’d done moments earlier with Miranda and her kidnapper.
Alyssa went out the doors and Samantha sighed. “Just like Alyssa explained. And we still don’t know what this guy looks like.”
Sam’s phone buzzed.
Tom. “Hello?”
“Hey, Sam. I got a call from the FBI. They’ve got a missing senator’s kid. I’m going to need your help on this one.”
Obligation to her buddy warred with the necessity to continue working the case she was already neck-deep in. “Tom, come on. You know I’m working this missing girls case. You’re going to have to get someone else, my friend.”
“No, you come on, Samantha. You’ve done what you were asked to do. The computer stuff. What’s keeping you there?”
“I don’t feel like I’m finished, Tom. And right now my boss hasn’t released me from this case, so this is my priority, okay?”
“What about this missing kid?”
She didn’t have an answer for that one. She sighed. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to find another agent to help you handle it. It shouldn’t be much longer, a few more days at most. I feel like we’re closing in and I’m not really ready to give it up yet.”
His answering sigh blew in her ear. “All right, I guess I can see if Bungee’ll help me.” Fred “Bungee” Kilpatrick was an avid bungee jumper, hence the nickname. Retired FBI, he also pitched in on an emergency basis when either Samantha or Tom needed help on a missing persons case.
“I’d appreciate it. And I promise, we’ll be back working together soon. I just really want to catch this guy, Tom.”
“Just make sure he doesn’t catch you first.”
His concern touched her. She had a feeling he was trying to get her to focus on something else because of the recent danger. “I’m being careful. And hopeful too. It means we’re getting closer if he’s scared enough to kill a cop.”
Too Close to Home Page 14
