by Lisa Harris
There was a short pause on the line. “Did you find the photo I left you?”
17
Did you find the photo I left you?
The words shot through Nikki like a hard punch to the gut, sucking the air from her lungs. The room spun. It couldn’t be him. She’d wanted to believe they were just dealing with a copycat, because he’d dropped out of the game years ago. She’d always imagined him turning up dead after a drunken brawl in some deserted back ally, or locked away in some high-security prison, caught for another crime he’d committed. Because the alternative meant he was still out there. Silently snuffing out the lives of other young girls one by one.
Like Sarah.
Like Bridget.
“I’m disappointed, Nikki,” he said. “I expected more of a response from you.”
She started to hang up, then hesitated. She had to be right. This couldn’t be him. Just some bad imitator wanting some attention. But if she hung up and it was him, or if he really did have Bridget . . .
“Who is this?” she asked.
“Do you really need to ask that? Sometimes I think you know me better than anyone, Nikki, after all these years of searching for me.” He laughed. “By the way, I’ve been wanting to congratulate you on your recent promotion. I’m sure you’ve become a huge asset to the governor’s latest special task force after you’ve studied every case of missing girls you could get your hands on. Memorized abductors’ MOs and profiles—mine included. It’s funny, though, how you’re their poster girl, and once again, you haven’t been able to find the girl you’re looking for.”
Nikki sat back down on the couch, her legs shaking. “If you’re who you say you are, tell me where Bridget is.”
“I might. In time. But not now. She’s not who I want to talk about.”
She looked up as Tyler walked into the room with two mugs of coffee in his hands. Nikki mouthed Angel Abductor, then switched to speakerphone.
Tyler’s eyes went wide. He set the mugs down on the coffee table, pulled out his phone, then started recording the call.
“If you don’t want to talk about Bridget, then why are you calling me?” she asked.
“I thought we could talk. I’ve always enjoyed getting to know the girls. Getting them to trust me before I took them. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is. Throw a bit of charm their way, a few compliments . . .”
Nikki fought the nausea spreading through her. Tyler squeezed her hand and motioned for her to keep him talking.
She gnawed on her lower lip and nodded. “Tell me where Bridget is.”
“Once again you surprise me, Nikki. I thought you might be more interested in talking about the day Sarah vanished. You can’t imagine how disappointed I was when the authorities didn’t find her, considering the clues I left.”
“Is she alive?” Nikki couldn’t fight the growing emotion pressing against her chest. Ten years of searching, hoping, praying . . . She was realistic enough to know that the chances of Sarah being alive were slim, but even if there was only a chance of finally finding out the truth . . . Even that would help fill in the holes of grief left behind by her sister’s disappearance. “Please . . . please tell me where she is.”
His hollow laugh mocked her. “Begging doesn’t suit you well, Nikki. It makes me feel you’re not a worthy opponent, and I’d hoped that you were more worthy than Sam Bradford and the rest of his team.”
“Sam?”
“He was more focused on his retirement than closing another case. He missed things he shouldn’t have, but you . . . you should have found them, Nikki.”
“What did I miss?” She caught Tyler’s gaze. She’d gone over and over every transcript, witness report, and piece of evidence available. Just like last night, everything appeared to be nothing more than dead ends, and nothing had managed to lead her any closer to Sarah. “If you wanted me to find her, tell me what I missed. Surely it can’t make any difference if I know now.”
“She was wearing an I Love New York sweatshirt that day and looked so pretty with the sunlight streaming behind her. It made her hair look almost white,” he said, ignoring her question. “Just like an angel.”
Nikki squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears as he continued speaking. The summer before Sarah disappeared they’d taken a family trip to New York and seen the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and walked through Central Park. Sarah told her she would have been happy to have spent the entire week at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“She told me you’d promised to pick her up,” he continued. “Figured you must have gotten caught up in traffic. She was worried about a test she had the next day. Spanish, if I remember right. She was worried she wasn’t going to have enough time to study if she didn’t get home soon, so I offered her a ride. It was so easy.”
“No.” Nikki’s voice cracked. “Sarah never would have gotten into the car with a stranger—”
“Who said I was a stranger? Who said any of them were strangers?”
“So you did meet them in person before you took them.”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
The tension in her neck was back. Pulsing across her head to her temples as she tried to absorb what he was telling her. That was the connection they’d missed. Each girl had known or at least had been familiar with him before he’d even attempted to take her.
They’d missed that connection. Even after she’d looked, cross-referencing everyone from gardeners to school personnel, people at church and after-school dance classes. She’d looked at each one meticulously, and like the police, she’d eventually made the assumption that the abductions had been random. But he’d planned each one. Possibly even weeks in advance.
“You’re there with Sam now, aren’t you?” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Desperately trying to figure out what the two of you might have overlooked. Hoping that you’ll be able to find a connection in Bridget’s abduction that will in turn end up leading you to your sister.”
She felt the warmth of Tyler’s hand and drew in a slow breath. She wasn’t going to engage in an argument. She needed information. Needed him to keep talking.
“Sam’s not working this case anymore, but you’re right,” she said, “we never found a connection. But you must be calling me for some reason. You must want me to know what that connection is.”
In all the profile studies she’d read on him, she’d never felt as if he’d wanted recognition. But maybe she’d been wrong. Or maybe he’d changed over the years. Maybe he’d continued quietly killing young girls, using a different MO.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
“I’m here,” he said finally. “But I’ve already given you enough. Now you’re going to have to find the connection. And find out why I’m back.”
Nikki’s heart raced. She’d managed to fool herself into believing the Angel Abductor was gone, even though it wasn’t uncommon for years to pass between crimes committed by serial killers. Some simply stopped, never getting caught. Others quietly took their secrets to the grave.
She pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders, still shaking. She wasn’t done yet. She needed to keep him talking. “You haven’t really told me anything. What do you want from me now?”
“I’ve said enough. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”
“No, wait . . .”
The call went dead.
Nikki dropped the phone onto the coffee table as if it were poison and watched it skitter across the surface. Her heart raced. Her stomach felt as if she was about to heave.
“Nikki?”
She stood up abruptly, pulling away from Tyler’s grasp. Turning too quickly, she jammed her elbow into the lamp on the side table. It tumbled onto the hardwood floor, shattering the glass base.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the quiet house. Tears burning her eyes, she knelt down and grabbed one of the large shards of glass, stabbing herself in the process. Blood pooled at the end of her finger. She automatically
stuck the injured spot in her mouth.
“Nikki, stop.” Tyler grabbed her wrists and eased her back onto the couch. He grabbed a tissue from a box on the floor beside the couch and started wrapping her finger. “Forget about the lamp. I’ll clean this up. Call Jack and have him trace the number.”
“It won’t matter. It’ll be another dead end.”
She felt completely frozen inside. As if a part of her had died—again—from hearing his voice. And that wasn’t all. Accusations and guilt flooded through her. If they’d caught him a decade ago, they wouldn’t be looking for Bridget today. And Sarah might still be with them.
“Nikki.” He knelt in front of her, tilting back her chin with his thumb so she had to look at him. “None of this is your fault, but I need you to focus. Maybe he’s simply getting scared, I don’t know, but you need to call Jack. He might not be able to trace who bought the phone, but he might be able to get us a location.”
She nodded, took the phone he handed her, then punched in Jack’s number. He had to be nearby. Watching her. He knew she was here with Sam. She didn’t expect Jack to be able to give her a name. He was too smart to have not used a burner phone. He’d simply called because he knew how hearing his voice—and not knowing who he was or where he was—would destroy her.
“Everything okay?” Sam flipped on the switch near the doorway as she hung up the call with Jack, flooding the living room with light. “I thought I heard a crash.”
Nikki still sat on the couch, phone in her hand, her forearms resting on her legs, trying not to shake. Trying not to relive every moment of panic she’d allowed herself to succumb to since her sister’s abduction. Or the fact that she’d just spoken with the man who ripped her family apart forever.
“I’m sorry, Sam . . .”
Tyler looked up from where he was carefully picking up the shards from the lamp she’d broken. “The lamp fell over.”
“Forget about the lamp. I’ll be right back.”
He returned a moment later with a dustpan and broom. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t really about the lamp?”
“He called me,” Nikki said, still unable to move. “The man who kidnapped Sarah.”
“Whoa . . . the Angel Abductor called you?”
Nikki still shivered despite the warmth of the room. She could feel herself shutting down like she had the afternoon Sarah had gone missing.
Sam grabbed a plastic trash can from beside the desk and held it while Tyler dumped in the glass. “What did he say?”
“That we missed clues. That he was disappointed we hadn’t been able to find Sarah.”
“I recorded the call,” Tyler said.
“I want to hear it.”
Tyler sat down on the couch across from Nikki and replayed the conversation. Sam leaned against the armrest as he listened to the conversation, the lines on his forehead marked with worry.
Tyler stopped the recording at the end, then set down his phone.
“What do you think, Sam?” Nikki said. “Do you think this guy’s for real?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“And why now?” Nikki asked. “Why surface after all these years, and why involve me?”
“Because it’s personal?” Sam said, throwing out ideas. “Because he wants something. Maybe a reaction from you?”
Nikki tucked her feet underneath her and pulled the afghan tighter across her shoulders. She didn’t know how to put the pieces together. Didn’t understand what he wanted from her. All she knew was that he’d left her feeling vulnerable, and they still weren’t any closer to finding Bridget.
“What about tracing the call?” Sam asked, running his hand across his graying beard.
“Jack’s trying to get a location on the phone right now.”
“You’re still exhausted,” Tyler said.
“It’s part of the job—”
“He’s right, Nikki,” Sam said. “This isn’t just a lack of sleep we’re talking about. You’re emotionally exhausted.”
She glanced at her watch. “I need to go relieve Jack and Gwen.”
“Your boss can get a couple of officers to man the command post tonight in case any more leads come in,” Sam suggested. “I’m going to make the call now. I’ve still got contacts within the local police department.”
Nikki frowned at the two men. She couldn’t fight them both. And she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to function without a couple more hours of sleep.
Her phone rang again. This time it was Jack. “What did you find?”
“Traced the phone to the other side of town.”
“But he knew I was with Sam.”
“It was either a lucky guess,” Jack said, “or more than likely, he could be tracking your phone like he did with Bridget. I could send some uniforms your way if you’re worried—”
“No.” Nikki brushed away the concern. “I’m probably just overreacting.”
“Get some rest then. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Fine. Give me two more hours.”
“Three,” Sam countered. “And this time, Nikki, you sleep in the guest room. Tyler—”
“This recliner’s perfect for me.”
“You always were a bully,” she said to Sam, not trying to hide her relief.
“We’ll all do better in the morning, Nikki, and you know it,” Tyler said.
“Six o’clock, and not a minute later.”
18
Nikki glanced at her watch. Something had woken her up. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. She searched her mind. Bridget had gone missing. They’d come to talk to Sam. And he’d called.
She shivered in the darkness, her eyes finally adjusting to the light, and wondered why the room felt so chilly. She didn’t remember the room being so cold when she went to bed.
She looked toward the window. Lacy white curtains fluttered in the breeze. She scurried out from under the comforter into the icy room and checked the window. It was open. Her fingers gripped the sill. No wonder she was freezing. She reached for the thick robe lying across the end of the bed, wondering why she hadn’t noticed the open window before. Irene must have aired out the house and forgotten to close it.
Nikki started to shut the window, then paused as movement outside caught her attention. A figure stood silhouetted at the end of the drive, staring at the house. The hairs on her arms stood up. She grabbed her service weapon she’d left on the bedside table. She couldn’t find her shoes in the dark, but if she didn’t hurry, he’d be gone.
Tyler snored softly on the recliner in the living room. She knew he’d bark at her for going outside without any backup, but she didn’t wake him.
She slipped through the front door and looked toward the end of the driveway.
Whoever she’d thought she’d seen standing there in the darkness was gone.
She tugged the robe tighter around her waist, then started slowly down the drive, careful to stay hidden in the deep shadows of the tree-lined drive. Her bare feet pressed against the sharp gravel in the driveway, but she ignored the discomfort. Surely she was letting her imagination run away with her. Just because she hadn’t noticed the window was open when she’d gone to sleep didn’t mean someone had opened it while she’d slept. Fatigue had a way of playing with one’s mind.
She eased down the drive, shivering with the drop in temperature. The brief weather report she’d caught had predicted lower than normal temperatures over the next forty-eight hours due to a spring storm moving in across the mountains. She held her weapon in front of her, every one of her senses alert for signs of movement along the driveway and street. Just because he’d called her on the phone didn’t mean he was nearby. But that window had been closed. She was sure of it. And he knew she’d been with Sam. Which meant he was here. Watching her. Waiting for her. Taunting her.
Something clattered ten feet ahead of her. A cat screeched, then ran out from behind a trash can on the curb, vanished a moment later into a
hedge.
I’m starting to lose it here, God. I need some direction. A way to put an end to this . . .
Nikki shook her head, heart pounding, still trying to sweep away the cobwebs that had formed from not enough sleep. She’d been running on empty both physically and emotionally. And she knew what happened when fatigue settled in.
You started seeing things that weren’t there. Plots. Conspiracies . . . Maybe the figure had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. She looked down the quiet road for any signs of movement. Streetlights cast yellow beams across perfectly manicured lawns. Porch lights reflected off cars in the neighbors’ driveways. A dog barked in the distance. The wind rustled in the trees. But beyond that, the night was quiet.
She kept walking toward the road, fully awake now.
Where are you?
She was ready to put an end to the games. He’d had the upper hand for the last twenty-four hours. She needed to find a way to turn the tables. To put him on the defensive.
“Nikki?”
She spun around and pointed her weapon at the figure in front of her. “Tyler?” She dropped her gun to her side. “What in the world are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same question. Something woke me up, so I went to check on you. When I realized you weren’t in your room—and noticed that the front door wasn’t locked—it didn’t take much detective work to deduce you’d gone out of the house. What I don’t know is what you’re doing out here by yourself.”
She took a step deeper into the shadows. “I . . . I thought he was here.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, but I woke up and the window in my room was open. When I looked outside, I thought I saw a man standing at the end of the driveway.”
“You probably just had a bad dream, Nikki—”
“No. He was standing right there”—she pointed to the end of the driveway—“looking at the house. He wanted me to see him. Wants me to know that he’s out here watching me.”
“If you’re right—if he is here—that means he’s playing with you again. And you shouldn’t be going anywhere alone.”
