Girl in Trouble

by Stacy Claflin

  Williams threw question after question at the man. He remained in his seat, unflinching and with his heavily-tattooed arms folded across his chest. He answered everything perfectly, even giving details the media hadn't been privy to—which at this point wasn't much.

  Anderson turned to Nick. "What do you make of this guy? Is Juan Sanchez our killer?"

  "He has all the right answers."

  "But he doesn't match the suspect." Anderson leaned against the table. "The dad has been consistent in his description of the abductor."

  "Oh, I know." Alex was still convinced Flynn had Ariana. Nick wasn't ready to write the guy off yet, either, despite his airtight alibi.

  "Williams seems pretty happy," Anderson said.

  "Of course she is. She hasn't put an ounce of stock in Alex's description since day one."

  "You think it's Myer, still?" Anderson sipped from a foam cup.

  "Or someone who looks a hell of a lot like him."

  Anderson nodded. "This guy doesn't strike me as a kidnapper, either."

  "So, why's he confessing to a crime that could put him behind bars for life?" Nick studied the guy, who still sat in the same position he'd been in for the last half hour, answering the rapid-fire questions without breaking into a sweat.

  "Maybe he's getting paid off or blackmailed. Who knows? If he's not our guy, we have to find a way to prove it—and fast. It's sickeningly close to Halloween."

  "That it is." But how could they prove Juan Sanchez was just a distraction while the real kidnapper was preparing his kill?

  Nick walked to the door.

  "Where are you going?" Anderson asked.

  "To find the real perpetrator."

  "Let me know if you need anything."

  "Will do." Nick left and let the door slam behind him. He really had his work cut out for him now. Williams and her partners were eating up everything Sanchez said in there. Nick wouldn't believe the man until he saw Ariana alive and well. He wasn't going to waste valuable time on a false confession when a real killer was out there.

  Cheers sounded from the other end of the building. Did they really believe it was over now?

  The girl was still missing.

  He followed the noise and glared at the jovial officers. "There will be no celebrating until Ariana is back home with her family. Do you understand?"

  Their faces all turned serious.

  "I mean it. We don't slow down until she's found."

  "But Sanchez—"

  "But nothing," Nick corrected. "We don't have the girl. We don't know where she is or what she's enduring. Until we have those answers, we keep looking. Got it? Sanchez is a distraction, and nothing else. Now get to work."

  They grumbled, but dispersed.

  Nick's phone rang. He left the room and checked the caller ID. It was Alex. Clearly, he'd heard the news. Sanchez had announced his confession on social media before going to the station. Nick went into his office and closed the door. "Hi, Alex."

  "What's going on?"

  "You must mean Sanchez."

  "Who else?" Alex exclaimed. "What part of old white guy don't you guys understand?"

  Nick took a deep breath. "We have to follow every lead, no matter how ridiculous."

  "Has he handed over Ariana?" Alex demanded.

  "No. The FBI team is questioning him now."

  "And they really think that joker is the kidnapper?"

  "I won't know until they're done," Nick said. "How's Zoey?"

  "Shaken, but more upset about this. What's it going to take for you guys to follow the right lead?"

  "We still have people looking into everything else. Trust me, the investigation has not been put on hold."

  "It better not be."

  "The team and I are still looking for possible leads in the cold cases. We've narrowed down the lakes we think could be used this time. Looking into other clues, as well. We're going to keep pressing forward until we recover Ariana. But I need to get going. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

  "Like you did with this?" Alex accused.

  "First of all, this place is a circus right now, and second, we both know Sanchez isn't a real lead."

  "Okay, but next time, let me know, anyway."

  "Sure thing." Nick ended the call and opened his laptop. He found the file of cold cases and went to the case he was sure was the original—the one the others had imitated. Janet Vassman. The original lake girl.

  How was she related to Flynn Myer? Nick had already done extensive searches, finding no links whatsoever. Flynn had lived a quiet, dull life without so much as a speeding ticket. He'd never even been to Montana as far as Nick could tell.

  Nick closed the cold case folder and went over to look at Flynn's history again. The man had worked in the same company for years. Had lived in the same home for just as long. He'd gone through a long series of cars, apparently buying a new one every few years. He worked long hours, apparently so he could have the nice things.

  He scanned the information again, hoping to find something useful. Just a boring guy, but the thing was, nobody was that dull. There had to be something. But no matter how many times he looked, nothing showed up—not even between the lines.

  Nick went to close the window, but froze. He noticed something he hadn't before.

  When Flynn was eighteen, he'd changed his name. That was certainly interesting. Most people didn't do that, even if they hated their given names. There was nothing on Flynn before the name change, aside from a driver's license. But then again, sometimes he had to dig a little deeper to find information on minors.

  He spent the next half-hour looking into Flynn's—no, Gregory Myer's—childhood. Gregory had lived it up. He'd totaled three cars and had more than two dozen speeding tickets. He'd been busted for purchasing drugs, everything from weed to cocaine. Gregory had come close to flunking out of school.

  Yet he was a star student in college? Went on to live a quiet life, mostly unnoticed but liked by all his neighbors and coworkers? That didn't add up. People didn't change like that, and Flynn had. He'd changed his name and practically turned into a new person.

  Nick's head snapped up. A new person. Could he have…?

  That was the only explanation. Nick went to the online search engine and tried some amateur digging on Gregory Myer, the flunky drug addict. There was his answer.

  Gregory Myer had died a couple weeks after graduation. He'd overdosed on heroin in a closet and hadn't been discovered until the next evening. He'd had a small funeral, and his family moved away after that. Then two years later, Gregory had changed his name to Flynn and enrolled in college. The rest was a boring history—or more than likely, a cover up for a three-decade killing spree.

  Waste

  Williams entered Nick's office without knocking. "He's given us a location."

  "Sanchez?"

  "Of course. You coming?"

  Nick shook his head. "I've got another lead. Take a look at this."

  "We have a location, Fleshman. No other leads matter."

  "This one does."

  "I'm not going to waste valuable time arguing. If you don't want to be there when we find the girl, then it's your loss. The media is going to be all over this."

  And ridiculing them, if Nick's suspicions were correct. "I'll take the risk. This is huge."

  Williams shook her head. "I've met some ridiculous captains in my time—"

  "Just go." Nick turned back to his laptop. He was determined to figure out who Flynn Myer had been before taking on a dead druggie's social security number.

  The door slammed shut. His phone rang. Alex again.

  "Alex, I told you I'd call if something came up."

  "You didn't think a location was something big?"

  "How did you hear about that already?" Nick exclaimed.

  "Are you on my side or not?"

  "I am. In fact, I've pissed off the FBI because I'm not going on that fool's errand."

  "Huh?"

  Nick scroll
ed through the screen, looking for something that would tell him who Flynn had been. "I'm digging through Myer's past. Found something interesting."

  "What?"

  "He appears to have been resurrected."

  "Say what?"

  "I'm going to have to explain it later, but suffice it to say I think you've been right about him this whole time."

  "You do?"

  "Yeah. I'll talk to you later."

  Alex mumbled something Nick couldn't understand. "Okay. Talk to you later." The call ended.

  Nick spent the next two hours trying to find Myer's past, but he appeared to have none. He'd covered his tracks well, but without more to go on, it would be difficult to figure out who he'd been, especially as a minor in days when that information had only been stored on paper and other non-electronic means.

  A text came in from Alex.

  You were right. Anything yet?

  No. I'll let you know when I'm off duty.

  Nick had searched everything he could think of between here and Montana, including near the locations of the other cold cases. Whatever Flynn had done, he'd covered his tracks well. Given that he'd managed an illegal identity and held onto it for so long showed he probably had connections. Ones who could cover up a paper trail.

  Muffled conversation and heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. It sounded like the search team was back—and it didn't sound like they were celebrating a victory.

  Despite his doubt of the lead, Nick's heart sank. He'd have loved to have been wrong and have Ariana back.

  He went into the hallway. "Didn't find her?"

  Williams shook her head. "It was just an abandoned shack. No one had been there for years."

  "We tore the place apart," Anderson said. "Even the ground outside."

  Nick nodded and then looked at Williams. "Care to hear what I've found now?"

  "No, I'm going to let Sanchez have it. He's going to give us the real location." She stormed down the hall.

  "What'd you find?" Anderson asked.

  "It has to do with Myer."

  Anderson shook his head. "Captain, why?"

  "Because he's the only lead that makes any sense—and now more than ever."

  "Anderson, come here," Williams called.

  Anderson arched a brow.

  "Go," Nick said. "I'll fill you in later. I'm still trying to connect some dots."

  "Okay." Anderson headed down the hall.

  Nick went back to his desk and opened the file on the original lake girl. If only he could find more about the kids Janet had spent her last hours with—they had to be the key to all of this. Not only that, but Flynn would've been a teenager. Perhaps the same age or a little older than the girl. It was hard to know for sure, now that Nick knew Flynn was lying about everything.

  He opened a database and ran a search for Flynn Myer prior to his miraculous resurrection. Just as expected, Nick found nothing useful—and without knowing Flynn's true identity, he wouldn't be able to.

  Nick's head hurt and his legs were sore. He got up and stretched, then headed down the hall to see what was going on with the FBI's investigation. Everyone in the room was either flipping through files or typing furiously in front of a screen. None of the FBI agents were in there.

  "What's the latest?" Nick asked.

  Reynolds glanced up from a stack of papers. "Williams is grilling Sanchez. That's all we know."

  Nick nodded a thanks and headed over to the room behind the interrogation room. Two agents stood by the window while Williams yelled at Sanchez, who sat with his arms folded, looking bored.

  "He's not speaking now," said one of the agents. "I've never seen Williams so pissed."

  With any luck, she'd grow annoyed enough to actually hear what Nick had to say. He leaned against the back wall and watched the scene before him.

  Williams paced in front of Sanchez, making empty threats. He probably knew it, too. He'd only confessed to cover something up. His job was done. He probably figured once the girl was found, he'd be free since he couldn't have done it if he was in custody.

  "You guys willing to hear me out yet?" Nick asked.

  "Still stuck on the computer programmer?"

  "His physical description is an exact match to our eye witness's account."

  "But his alibi—"

  "Forget the alibi." Nick pounded his fist on the table. "Shoving that aside, he looks guilty. Much more so than this guy."

  "He's an upstanding citizen without so much as a parking ticket. He pays his taxes on time and volunteers with the elderly twice a month."

  "Myer also died when he was eighteen."

  Both agents snapped their attention toward him.

  "What?" exclaimed the one who'd been silent.

  "Yeah, and his first name was Gregory at the time. Two years later, the troubled young dead man changed his name to Flynn and became the ideal citizen."

  They both stepped closer to Nick. He filled them in on Gregory's life, death, and miraculous recovery two years later.

  "That does give us reason to look closer at him, but that doesn't negate the fact that he couldn't have been there to kidnap the girl."

  "I know." Nick's stomach tightened. That was the one thing that didn't make sense. How could he look exactly like the man who had put Ariana into the van when he was giving a speech?

  Fury

  Alex jumped up from the couch. "I can't keep watching this."

  Clementine jumped from the couch and ran from the room. Alex's parents both gave him startled expressions.

  "They might be close," Mom said.

  "Why doesn't anyone believe me?" he exclaimed. "I saw the kidnapper. It wasn't that guy! He was a balding white guy, not a tattooed Hispanic. Flynn is probably watching this, smug as anything."

  "What if the guy you saw was working for this Sanchez guy? Or the other way around?" Dad asked. "It could be a group job. Someone else has to be with Ariana."

  "Because a criminal wouldn't leave an eleven-year-old alone, right?" Alex snapped.

  "Alex," Mom exclaimed. "We're on your side."

  He took a deep breath. "I know. This just pisses me off. It's gotta be a distraction. I need to go for a walk and clear my head." Alex headed outside, grabbing his coat.

  The temperature seemed to have dropped five degrees. He shivered and zipped up. The wind blew, making it feel even colder.

  Alex stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the street, fuming over the confession. Flynn could have easily paid someone off. It would be the perfect distraction away from himself, and given where the dill hole lived, he had no shortage of funds.

  Alex stormed down the streets of his old neighborhood, going over every detail of the kidnapping. Before he knew it, he was completely on the other side of the development and he didn't feel any better. He was still angry and nothing had changed.

  He pulled out his phone and sent Nick a text.

  Is now a good time?

  No. I'm neck deep in this confession.

  It's a fake.

  And it's up to me to prove it. Gonna be a long day.

  Great. Thx.

  Alex shoved his hands back into his pockets and made his way back home. Zoey came out of her parents' house.

  "What's going on?" she asked.

  "It's a load of crap. The confession. Everything."

  "Why would he confess, though?"

  Alex clenched his jaw. "To get the attention off the real kidnapper. It's almost Halloween!" Terror gripped him. The police and FBI were so focused on the fake confession, it just gave Flynn the space he needed to plan his latest kill.

  That meant only one thing. Alex needed to take matters into his own hands if Ariana was going to live to see next month.

  Tears shone in Zoey's eyes. "We're going to get her back, right?"

  Everything in Alex wanted to wrap his arms around her. Not when Golden Boy was probably inside, watching. "I'm going to do everything in my power."

  "What do you mean?"


  "I'm going to make sure she comes back home."

  "Alex…" Zoey's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

  "I don't care what it takes to get her back."

  She tilted her head and her brows came together.

  "Why don't you go back inside? I have some things I need to take care of."

  "Do you need help?"

  "Actually, yeah. Can you go to the hospital and stay with Macy for a few hours? Luke's there now, and we're all taking turns. I'm supposed to be there in—" he checked his phone "—twenty minutes."

  She nodded. "I'll go."

  "Thanks, Zo."

  They held each other's gaze. It seemed like she was going to say something, but then she just nodded.

  Alex nodded and headed up his driveway. "Say hi to Kellen," he muttered.

  He went up the stairs and nearly ran into Mom. She gave him a double-take. "I thought you were going to the hospital."

  "No, I ran into Zoey. She's going."

  "It might do you some good to focus on Macy for a little bit. I can see how worked up you are over the confession."

  "Everyone else should be, too! This isn't good news."

  She took a deep breath. "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

  "I don't want food," he snapped. "Excuse me." Alex went around her up the stairs and into his room and slammed the door.

  He was done waiting for the police and the FBI. The fact that they were giving any credence to the confession told Alex that he was on his own in this battle. Sure, Nick believed him, but that did him little good. The captain was bound by miles of sticky red tape. Alex wasn't.

  In fact, as long as Ariana ended up safe in the end, Alex didn't care what happened to him. If he had to kill Flynn to get to Ariana before Halloween, then so be it. He'd spend the rest of his life behind bars. It wasn't like he had much to lose. Zoey had her fiancé. Luke and his parents had to take care of Macy.

  This was on him.

  If Flynn was going to go down, Alex would have to be the one to do it while the police were busy with a fake lead.