The Innocent

by Amanda Stevens

  Carter sat at the kitchen table, listening to the taped message with a tense but excited look on his face.

  “Hello, Mrs. Brodie,” the distorted voice greeted. “Sara Beth says she wants to come home, but it’s not going to be that easy. You have until the close of work on Monday to put together $500,000 in small, unmarked bills—”

  “Oh, my God!” Karen Brodie’s voice on the tape, shocked and desperate, interrupted the kidnapper. “Who are you? Who are you?”

  But there’d been no one on the other end by that time.

  Abby glanced at Carter. “That’s it?”

  He nodded grimly. “But it’s more than we had a few hours ago, Sergeant Cross. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Mrs. Brodie.”

  He couldn’t have dismissed her more curtly if he’d shoved her in the back. Abby walked over to Sheriff Mooney. “What time did the call come in?”

  “Around 10:30.”

  Abby tried to calculate what she’d been doing at that time. Had she and Sam still been in the throes of passion, or had regret already set in?

  “Did we get a trace?”

  “The call was made from a pay phone on Highway 240 between here and Alma,” he said, referring to a tiny, rural community about ten miles south of Eden. “We’ve got a team on the way down there to dust for prints and canvass the area, but I doubt anyone saw anything. There’s nothing but woods out there for miles.”

  “You send our people or theirs?” she asked, nodding toward Carter.

  “It’s a joint effort.”

  Yeah, right, Abby thought. The feds would use local personnel for the grunt work, but if the outcome of the case was favorable, you could be certain they’d take full credit. They always did.

  She glanced back at the table where Carter was still talking to Karen Brodie. Her face was pale, her demeanor almost rigid. She looked as if she was using every last ounce of her strength to hold herself together.

  She’s in shock, Abby thought. Sara Beth had been missing since Wednesday. A ransom call at this late date hadn’t been expected, but it could be good news. It could mean she was still alive. But Karen Brodie didn’t seem to comprehend that yet.

  The back door opened and Sam walked in. Abby’s heart jumped to her throat at the sight of him. At the memory of him.

  Their gazes met and a shiver rolled over her.

  My, oh my, she thought. Just a short while ago, I was making love to this man.

  Her face beet red, Abby turned away, unable to hold his gaze. She hoped, prayed, no one else had noticed her discomfort.

  He moved across the room and sat down at the table beside Karen. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he spoke to her in low tones, which Special Agent Carter didn’t seem to appreciate. He was in charge here. He was the hero here.

  “Feds,” Abby muttered.

  “What?” Sheriff Mooney asked sharply.

  “What’s Carter telling her?”

  “Probably running her through the pros and cons of paying the ransom.”

  As any cop knew, paying a ransom didn’t automatically guarantee the safe return of the victim. More often than not, just the opposite was true. A kidnapper didn’t like to leave witnesses. But if a drop wasn’t made and the victim died, then the guilt could be overwhelming.

  Abby shuddered, thinking of Karen Brodie’s choices.

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Karen murmured. She clung to Sam’s hand. “How can this be happening? Why is it happening?”

  She was hanging on by a thread. Sam had never seen anyone look so fragile.

  She’s not going to be able to do this, he thought. She could barely listen to Carter’s instructions, much less make the decision on whether or not to pay the ransom.

  And it was a call she had to make. She and Curtis. Sam could advise. He could tell her what his experience had been in such cases. He could give her the odds of Sara Beth coming out of this alive whether they paid the ransom or not, but the simple truth was, no one really knew the best course of action. Every case was different. Every kidnapper an individual, but the one thing Sam knew for sure was that the hours were ticking away. With every beat of the clock, the probability of Sara Beth’s safe return grew dimmer.

  He looked up and saw Abby. Except for the moment when he’d first arrived, she’d avoided eye contact with him. His stomach tightened as he stared at her for a moment, willing her to meet his gaze.

  Karen’s grasp tightened on his, and Sam tore his attention away from Abby. If possible, his sister’s face had grown even whiter. A look of dread came over her features. She stared at the doorway that led into the dining room, where a man’s voice had risen in anger. Her hand trembled inside Sam’s. Her lips parted, but she said nothing.

  Sam turned to the doorway just as Curtis strode through.

  BEFORE ANYONE could stop her, before anyone realized she’d even moved, Karen Brodie launched herself across the room toward her husband. She raked her fingernails down his face, drawing blood, before he could grab her wrists.

  “You did this!” she screamed in fury. “You did this just to torment me! If you hurt her, I swear I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”

  She tried to go for his face again, but Curtis held on to her wrists and flung her away from him. But this time, Sam had come around the table and grabbed Karen. She tried to struggle away from him, but then the adrenaline seemed to gush out of her and she collapsed against him, sobbing. She couldn’t seem to stop.

  Curtis eyed her in disgust. “Keep her away from me,” he said through clenched teeth. He turned to Sheriff Mooney. “Now do you see what I have to put up with? She’s crazy. You saw the way she came at me. Thank God she didn’t have a knife this time. And you people call yourselves the law. Do your damn job. If anyone in this room is responsible for Sara Beth’s disappearance, it’s her.” He stabbed a finger at Karen, who was still sobbing helplessly in Sam’s arms. “What’d you do to her?” he yelled. “What did you do to Sara Beth, you crazy bi—”

  “That’s enough,” Sam said, very quietly. But his voice, his eyes were as savage as Curtis’s. And every bit as cold.

  For a moment, Curtis bristled. His hands balled into fists, but something he saw in Sam’s face, in that frigid gaze, must have discouraged him from a confrontation. He turned away, muttering, “Just keep her away from me.”

  Abby felt a little shell-shocked by the scene. She’d broken up brawls before, even a knife fight once between two grown men. She’d witnessed domestic quarrels, tangled with suspects who resisted arrest, experienced violence in varying degrees. But something about the ugly fray between Curtis and Karen Brodie left her almost physically ill.

  …when things start to look bright in a case like this, it’s usually right before they get darkest.

  Sam’s words came back to haunt her, and Abby had to wonder if they’d stemmed from more than just his experiences on cases like this. More than just his insights into human nature. Was it possible that Sam had known then the case was far from being solved? Had Vickie Wilder been a way to throw Abby off track?

  Someone took her elbow, and Abby started.

  Dave Conyers grinned down at her. “Jumpy tonight, aren’t you?”

  She rubbed her temple, where a headache was starting to throb. “It’s this case. Just when I thought I might be figuring it out, a ransom call comes in. Vickie Wilder has disappeared, and the Brodies are literally at each other’s throats. So, yeah, I’m a little jumpy.” She glanced up at him. “What’s up?”

  “I just came from the station. I thought you might want to know that Sheriff McElroy down in Palisades is trying to get in touch with you. Says he tried you at home, but he didn’t get an answer. I guess you were already on your way over here.”

  “What he’d say?”

  “He said to tell you he finally remembered the name of the woman Bobby Lee Hatcher married. Says it just came to him out of the blue.”

  Yeah, Abby thought. It had come to him after he’d deci
ded he couldn’t make any political capital out of it. “Well?” she prompted Dave.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  The adrenaline started to pump. “Not Vickie Wilder?”

  Dave Conyers grinned. “Close, but no cigar. Mrs. Bobby Lee Hatcher is none other than one Luanne Plimpton.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abby’s mouth went dry in shock. Just like that, she had Bobby Lee Hatcher’s connection to Eden. He’d followed Luanne up here. When he’d seen her with Sara Beth—

  Or were they in this together? Had one of them made the ransom call tonight?

  Abby’s mind whirled. “We need to talk to her ASAP.”

  “No time like the present,” Dave said cheerfully. He wore black slacks and a blue silk shirt opened at the collar. His clubbing clothes, he called them. Abby wondered if he’d been working in the station all night, or if he’d dropped in after spending a few hours in a bar. He hadn’t been drinking, though. His blue eyes were clear and alert.

  Abby glanced at her watch. “It’s late. Maybe we should bring her down to the station in the morning.”

  Dave shook his head. “Why wait? Better to catch her by surprise, before she has time to make up a story.”

  He was right about that. “Let’s go then.”

  Dave drove, and on the way to Luanne Plimpton’s house, he gave Abby a sly gaze. “Say, what’s up with you and Sam Burke?”

  Abby’s face flamed in the darkness. “Nothing is up with us. Why do you ask?”

  Dave shrugged. “Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’d have to be blind or stupid not to pick up on the fact that the guy has the hots for you, and you aren’t either one. So give it to me straight, Abby. You two going at it?”

  “Shut up!” Abby grumbled, not confirming or denying Dave’s question. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of, what she knew would happen. She could just imagine the buzz around the sheriff’s station by morning.

  “Hey,” Dave said, shrugging. “I don’t care. It’s none of my business. I just wondered if that’s the reason you went to bat for Burke with the sheriff.”

  “I went to bat for him because I thought he could benefit these cases.” Abby stared straight ahead, trying to keep her voice and her expression neutral. But she had a bad feeling she’d already given herself away to Dave. “There’s nobody on these cases—in the whole country—that has more experience or expertise than he does. I didn’t think we could afford not to use his help.”

  “There’s the matter of his conflict of interest,” Dave pointed out.

  Abby shrugged. “He’s not investigating. He’s consulting. He’s working up profiles. There’s a big difference.”

  “Still, Special Agent Carter wasn’t too happy to hear about Sheriff Mooney’s decision.”

  “I don’t see why he should have a problem with Sam Burke. He said himself that even the FBI still uses Sam as a consultant. And he teaches criminal profiling at the Academy. If Carter could get someone else down here with even half as much experience, we’d be lucky.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Dave said. “I happen to agree with you. But he’s doing a little more than consulting, Abby. You took him with you on interviews. You let him talk to witnesses.”

  “Because he asked questions I never even thought of. Because he listens to more than just their answers. He observes their expressions, their inflections. He knows what he’s doing,” she said a little defensively.

  “Yeah,” Dave muttered. “But I wonder if you do.”

  Instead of asking him what he meant, Abby changed the subject. “Anything new with Emily’s case?”

  His expression turned grim in the dash lights. “Other than Vickie Wilder, I don’t have one solid suspect. And the evidence against her is pretty damn weak.”

  “What about the mother? Tess Campbell?”

  He gave Abby a reproachful look. “Look, I know we both think she may not have been exactly square with us about her past, but you know as well as I do that she’s not capable of harming her own kid. I’ve never seen anyone so torn up in my life.”

  Abby had to agree. She didn’t know Tess as well as Naomi did, but from what she’d seen, the woman’s grief was genuine. And as for her past, well, they all had things they weren’t particularly proud of. In Tess’s case, Abby suspected her reticence had something to do with a relationship gone bad. Tess was a few years younger than Abby, but she vaguely recalled rumors about Tess and a man from one of the well-to-do families across the lake. Tess had left town suddenly, only to return a few years later a young widow with a child. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what might have happened. When Tess had gotten pregnant, the man had refused to marry her. The scenario was not unfamiliar to Abby. No wonder Naomi and Tess had grown so close. They had a lot in common, apart from their missing children.

  It was true cops had been fooled before, but Abby had the same gut instinct as Dave. No way Tess Campbell would have harmed her child.

  Abby wished her instincts were as strong regarding Sara Beth’s parents, but unfortunately, the scene earlier had only reinforced for Abby that both Karen and Curtis Brodie had serious problems—and not just with each other.

  She told Dave about the profile Sam had given her earlier on Sadie’s kidnapper and on Emily’s. “He’s convinced the same person kidnapped both children. But not Sara Beth.”

  “That’s pretty much in line with what you’ve said from the first.” Dave scowled at the road. “But if the same person took both Sadie and Emily—ten years apart—then that rules out Vickie Wilder. Ten years ago she was, what? Twelve, thirteen?”

  “It doesn’t rule her out in Sara Beth’s abduction. But it’s always possible Sam’s profile could be off. Profiling is not an exact science.”

  “Which Special Agent Carter likes to keep pointing out,” Dave said with a grin.

  He pulled to the curb in front of Luanne Plimpton’s home and turned off the engine. They got out, and Abby glanced around. The houses along the street were modest, but the neighborhood overall was upscale, with lots of trees and well-manicured yards.

  “This place is nice,” Dave said admiringly as they headed up the walkway.

  “I wonder how she affords it on a secretary’s salary.”

  Dave thumbed the doorbell. “Bonuses, obviously.”

  Several minutes later, a curtain parted at a front window, then a voice said from the other side of the door, “Who is it?”

  “Lieutenant Conyers and Sergeant Cross with the Jefferson County’s Sheriff’s Department. We need to speak with you, Miss Plimpton.”

  The door drew back on its chain lock. “It’s very late. Can’t it wait until morning?”

  Strange, Abby thought. As close as Luanne Plimpton was to one of the kidnappings and one of the victims, you would think her first assumption, on seeing two cops at her door in the middle of the night, would be that Sara Beth had been found. But she hadn’t even asked about the child.

  Abby and Dave exchanged glances as he said, “This is extremely important. Please open the door, Miss Plimpton.”

  Reluctantly, she slid off the chain, then drew back the door. She wore a white silk robe and slippers, and her hair and makeup were perfect. She was dressed for bed, Abby thought, but not for sleep. Was she waiting for Curtis Brodie? Or someone else? Her ex-husband, perhaps?

  She led them into a small, but well-appointed living room. Like the woman herself, the furnishings were expensive and attractive. She didn’t take a seat, nor did she offer them one. Instead, she strode to the fireplace, picked up a pack of cigarettes from the mantel, shook one out, and lit up. “Look, I was just on my way to bed. What’s this all about?” She eyed them coolly through a haze of blue smoke.

  “We’d like to talk to you about Bobby Lee Hatcher,” Abby said.

  The woman’s face immediately went white. It was amazing to watch. Her expression never changed. Her eyes didn’t even blink. But the color literally drai
ned from her complexion. Then she tried to cover. “Who?”

  “Bobby Lee Hatcher. Your ex-husband. Or are the two of you still married?”

  She flicked a speck of tobacco from her tongue. “I don’t have a husband. I’ve never been married.”

  “Before you make any further denials, you should know that I spent yesterday afternoon in Palisades,” Abby told her. “I spoke with Sheriff McElroy and with Bobby Lee’s grandmother.”

  At last the woman flinched. “How is the old battle-ax?”

  “Then you’re not denying you know her?”

  Luanne stubbed out her cigarette almost viciously. She walked over and sat down heavily on the sofa. “Okay,” she said. “It’s true. Bobby Lee and I were married. But that was a long time ago. I was just a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing, or believe me, I never would have gotten mixed up with that bunch. They’re crazy. Every last one of them. If I didn’t know it before, I sure as hell knew it after he kidnapped that girl.”

  “Mrs. Hatcher hinted that you might have had something to do with the kidnapping.”

  Luanne laughed bitterly. “I’m sure she did more than hint. She accused me to my face of making Bobby Lee do it. As if I could make him do anything. If I even so much as suggested what shirt he should wear, he was just as apt to backhand me as not.” She glanced up at them, her face rigid. “I didn’t talk him into kidnapping that girl. But I wasn’t sorry when they sent him up. Otherwise, I never would have gotten away from him.”

  “Has Bobby Lee tried to get in touch with you since he got out of prison?” Dave asked.

  “Lord, no. I didn’t even know he’d been released.” Suddenly, Luanne Plimpton didn’t look particularly expensive or attractive. What she looked was scared.

  “He hasn’t called you, sent you a letter, anything?”

  She shook her head. “No. He doesn’t know where to find me, thank God, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “What about his cousin, Marvin?” Abby asked. “You know where we can find him?”