Chris was wrapped around him, her arm over his waist, the warm weight of her making him reluctant to move.
He stroked her arm in apology and stretched to reach his phone, tugging it off the nightstand. It was Midaugh. Ryan answered it quietly, sliding her arm off his waist and sitting up. He felt her fingers stroke over his back, sliding along the bumps in his spine, making him close his eyes in pleasure.
“Helmer,” he answered.
“Hey, kid, we have a possible sighting of the unsub in Fate.”
Ryan straightened away from Christina’s touch, already standing as he reached for his boxers, tugging them upward while holding the phone to his ear using his shoulder.
“I’m here at Ms. Pascal’s house.”
“Good. According to the tip, someone in a white van with a cable company logo on the side pulled into an apartment building in Fate. I’m sending you the address. It’s not far from Ms. Pascal’s place.”
“How solid is this lead?”
“It came in this morning. The caller didn’t give a name, but mentioned that he’d seen a man and a woman.”
Walking into the living room, Ryan dressed quickly, pulling on the pants and shirt he’d worn yesterday, but leaving it unbuttoned. He’d left his vest in the car. He’d have to put it on.
“That could be our missing girl.”
“That’s what we’re thinking. Preliminary tests on the dog found both male and female human DNA, but it’ll take time to get anything more back from the lab. The dog does match the description and pictures of Martha Cooper’s dog, but there was no collar and no chip. The dog was killed with a nonserrated knife by someone clumsy and unpracticed. I’m betting the killing wasn’t the work of the unsub.”
“What about the other case, the Martin Hays case?”
“I called over there this morning. Apparently Ms. Collins’s dogs located the body of Tabitha Lopez in the woods five miles from Mr. Hays’s home. When they went to the home of Mr. Hays, however, he was gone—as in, taken-his-stuff-and-left-town gone.”
“They have a description of his vehicle?”
“They do. The plate, too, but if he has half a brain he ditched it.”
“Sounds like he was warned.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Midaugh confirmed. “I let Atlanta PD know that our paths may have crossed here. I’m having Sandeep get in contact with their cyber guys to see if there’s any overlap in communication, but he believes the unsub is effective in using the Undernet and may have been in contact with Martin Hays through a hidden website that caters to child pornography.”
“I thought Atlanta PD had him under surveillance.”
“Apparently he had a basement and a separate exit. He left out the back and went through the woods. So far they’ve found evidence of at least two other girls in that same basement room.”
“Well, that’s just fucking great.” Unconsciously Ryan glanced back at Chris’s bedroom. He didn’t want her to know that Martin Hays might have slipped through the fingers of the police, something that never would have happened if they’d taken her earlier tips more seriously. She’d wanted him caught long ago.
“Who’s meeting me at the site where the van was spotted?”
“I sent two of the deputies who were working the roadblocks to the location. They should be meeting you there now.”
“Sounds good. Any word on whether the media has gotten wind of it yet?”
“Not yet, but the tip line has been blazing since last night’s coverage aired. The tip seemed solid, unlike some of the others, but you should keep in mind that the unsub himself could be sending us on a chase.”
“I won’t forget it. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. There aren’t that many residential buildings in this part of town; I’m sure he would have been spotted during one of the canvasses.”
“What about commercial buildings?”
“What?” Ryan paused.
“Your girlfriend lives in one, right? A loft in the building that was converted to an apartment?”
“Yeah.” Ryan glanced around at the big open room with the tall ceiling. “She does.” He walked to the window and glanced out at the buildings that ringed the circle. It was still dark outside, a misty gray had barely begun to lighten the sky, but the streetlamps were burning, and he confirmed that most all of the buildings were two- to three-story redbrick structures. Some had been storefronts with offices, but others had housed manufacturing businesses. It was possible that the unsub could have leased a commercial space.
“Can we get a list of all the owners and call to find out if anyone fitting the description of the unsub rented a space within the past six months?”
“Yeah, I’ll have someone check into it and call you back. You on your way?”
“Yeah. Call me back with any updates.”
Ryan hung up and sat quickly to put on his shoes, wishing he’d had the foresight to get up early and take a shower.
Chris came out of the bedroom wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, a bathrobe, and a T-shirt, her hair in wild disarray, a love bite near her collarbone. She looked delicious, like a present all wrapped up in flannel and soft cotton.
“Have to leave?” She rubbed her face.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“Yeah. Listen, you need to stay here, keep the tape over your computer cameras, and stay off the Internet. I know you want to find this guy, but you don’t need to endanger yourself to do it.”
She glanced away, as if she didn’t quite agree, but her eyes, when they met his, were clear and bright. “I hear you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Chris stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Maybe catch up on my reading? Tavey won’t open Dog today after what happened yesterday, so I can’t walk down and visit her, and Raquel went into the office to help with the Martin Hays case.”
“Okay. That sounds good. There will be a deputy downstairs. They’re rotating shifts. The chief sent down a couple more to help out while all this is going on.”
“Has there been any more activity with my identities?”
“Not that we’re aware of; his focus seems to have shifted entirely to you.”
Chris nodded. “That’s good. At least he’s not killing anyone.”
Ryan didn’t have the heart to tell her about the homeless man they suspected the unsub had slaughtered for the sole purpose of drawing their attention away from Fate, away from Chris. She didn’t need to know.
“Exactly, so I suppose we owe you one for calling his attention to you.”
“I suppose you do, Ryan Helmer, but you can repay me . . . personally.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, and tugged the bottom of her shirt to pull her in for a kiss.
When he released her, her lips were flushed and soft-looking, enticing.
“Go catch the bad guy.”
THE LOCATION MIDAUGH had sent to his phone wasn’t far at all, it was actually a small apartment building with a covered lot next to the railroad tracks on the other side of the circle from Chris’s house. He could have walked it. Some of the reporters, the ones who hadn’t followed him, were walking across the street from their camp in the center of the circle. There was a library across the street with a small cemetery behind it. He was met by two deputies who had been assigned to assist in the case. Also present was a young woman, Agent Bennett, who said she lived near Fate, and her partner, Agent Honeycutt; both were carrying their flashlights.
“Any sign of the van?” he asked the deputy who had arrived first at the location.
“No, sir. No van. All’s pretty quiet over here. We’ve checked the parking garage and surrounding streets.”
Ryan was pissed; he had this nagging feeling that he was missing something important. “I had an idea
earlier that we should be checking the commercial spaces as well. This guy isn’t an unsub that blends in the way most do. He would stand out as strange in a public environment. Most likely he would avoid society if possible. We’re checking into possible connections, but I say we go ahead and take a look around the buildings in this circle and its surroundings.” He pointed at the deputies. “You two keep the reporters back in the circle. Agents, check the parking lots and garages for white vans and gold sedans.”
Ryan pulled up the details of Martha Cooper’s car. “I can send you the license plate number of the other vehicle we think he might be driving.”
“Sounds good,” Agent Bennett agreed, and rattled off her contact information.
They split up in separate directions, the deputies heading west toward Dog with Two Bones to hold the reporters, while the two agents headed to the north part of the circle. Ryan retrieved his own flashlight and headed across the street toward the library on the east side. It was closed, but there was a car in the lot, a sedan. He checked the plate, but it didn’t match Martha Cooper’s. He did see something interesting, though: a pink backpack, with a yoga mat sticking out of the top.
He picked it up, a sick feeling in his stomach. A yoga mat likely meant one of Chris’s students. She was supposed to have had class yesterday until the dog incident had canceled it.
He glanced around, walking to the edge of the library parking lot, where a chain-link fence separated it from the railroad tracks. On the other side of the tracks, the bedraggled cemetery looked to Ryan like something out of a Tim Burton movie, complete with a huge oak tree in one corner.
Though he was certain his time would be better spent checking the various buildings in the circle, he decided to make sure there was no other evidence, so he crossed over the tracks and opened a rusty gate that wouldn’t keep a two-year-old out. Feeling vaguely ridiculous, like he was invading the privacy of the dead, he quickly flashed his light over the gravestones, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. When he glanced toward the big oak tree, though, he thought he saw someone move. Quickly he headed in that direction, his hand on his weapon, light scanning his surroundings.
After advancing about a hundred feet, he realized that what he’d seen must have just been a shadow from the tree in the tricky dawn light; he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the gnarled oak and what looked like a tiny cross. He continued walking toward it, curiosity compelling him.
He bent down, and it took him a moment to make out the faded letters on the cross, which looked handmade by children, the letters slightly crooked.
“ ‘Summer Haven,’ ” he read out loud, and felt the hair on the back of his neck lift. “Chris.”
Dread washed over him. Irrational, completely unsubstantiated dread. He hesitated, uncertain why he felt so terrified. He didn’t trust the feeling.
Sweeping the area with his flashlight for threats, he left the cemetery abruptly, heading back to where he’d met the agents earlier. To his surprise, the woman, Bennett, was heading back in his direction, her phone held to her ear.
“Yes, sir,” she was saying. She glanced up. “He’s headed my way now, sir. I’ll tell him.”
She hung up. “Three teenage girls have gone missing from Fate.”
“I found—” Helmer began, but she held up a hand to cut him off.
“You should also know that one of the reporters told the deputy that Ms. Pascal drove off in her SUV shortly after you left. She’s been gone at least fifteen minutes. Midaugh is on his way here with the rest of the team.”
“Damn it.” Ryan was already dialing as he ran to his car.
When Midaugh answered, Ryan barked, “Which way did she head out of town?”
“She evaded the reporters by taking side streets and turning down a private drive. She was headed in the general direction of the mountain ridges to the northwest.”
Ryan thought of what she’d written the unsub, about the woods and where she’d once played with her friend Summer. “I think I can guess where she’s headed. Send me the address of Tavey Collins’s home. Also, I found a backpack in the library parking lot that looks like it belongs to a teenager. There were schoolbooks and a yoga mat. How long have those three girls been missing?”
“Since yesterday evening. They stay at the library after school until it’s time for their yoga class. I don’t suppose their yoga teacher could be someone other than Ms. Pascal?”
“I believe she’s the only one. Why weren’t they reported missing sooner?”
“Apparently their mother was told they could be found using a spell, but she called us this morning when the spell cast by someone named Circe didn’t work.” Midaugh’s opinion of this explanation was clear in his flat tone and crisp consonants. He didn’t come right out and say, “Goddamn idiot woman,” but Ryan got the gist.
“Just great. I know these girls—they’re not just teenagers; they’re identical teenagers. Their aunt believes she’s a witch.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair, deeply troubled by this revelation—he liked those girls.
“Is there any reason our unsub would have an interest in them?”
“They’re the ones who called us about the unsub’s connection to Christina. He could have searched their social media and found references to her or he may have seen them headed to class and taken the opportunity, but either way, if he’s the one that’s taken them, I believe he’s using them as a bargaining chip to get what he wants from Chris.”
“Which are some damn magic strings.”
“Yeah.”
“You think that’s why she took off? He told her he’d taken those girls?”
Ryan cursed silently. He knew her well enough now to realize that if the girls were in danger, and she knew about it, she would most certainly consider saving them worth endangering herself. “I think so. I’m going to call her. Give you a call back in a few minutes.” He hung up, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel, so furious and horrified that he couldn’t think beyond the next action, the next turn, the next stop, because when he did, images of the murder victims flashed through his mind, only they were Christina, her beautiful, stubborn face frozen in death, her body nothing but a shell that had once been someone so alive.
He would find her before the unsub did. He had to. The alternative was unacceptable.
36
CHRIS SLAMMED ON the brakes and pulled a U-turn. She’d only driven five miles out of town, but even that short distance gave her the clarity she needed to realize that she just couldn’t do it; she couldn’t betray Ryan’s trust and get herself killed in the process. Her plan had sounded easy enough when she’d been plotting it out in her mind: Instead of going straight to the coordinates he’d sent, which she’d located on Google Earth, she’d uncovered the cameras on her monitors and held up a piece of paper with the coordinates of an old hunting cabin on Tavey’s property. She would drop off a disposable phone in the cabin and call the unsub from a safe location nearby. She intended to send him to one coordinate after another in exchange for information about the location of the girls Hays had taken, while all the while the FBI would be on his tail—she’d left the location of Tavey’s cabin back in her apartment for the agents to find. But the closer she got to actually putting her plan in motion, the more insane it sounded. Ryan was an FBI agent. He had the resources and training to handle this. She was likely just going to get herself killed.
When her phone rang, she knew it was Ryan without having to look.
“Ryan, I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“I know, I shouldn’t have.”
“This is beyond stupid. We have better resources for finding those girls. Do you think I need you missing as well? What are you doing?”
“I was going to meet him. I know we have the location of one body, but I thought if there’s even a chance that I could get mor
e information about Hays, about the other girls he took . . .”
“Hays?” He sounded confused.
“Martin Hays.”
He was silent just long enough that Chris checked her phone to see if she still had bars. When he finally answered, his voice was cold. “You want to find them? Get your ass back here so I can concentrate on the case.”
Chris bit her lip; he was acting like a total dick. She understood that she’d freaked him out, but she didn’t like being told she was an idiot, even if she was acting like one. She had been successful in helping uncover vital information with a lot of cases, especially this one. At least she did something to help people, even if her methods were unconventional.
She considered telling him that she was on her way back to Fate at this very moment, but instead she hung up on him. He could call her back when he calmed down and stopped being an ass.
Her phone rang again. She picked it up without glancing at the number on the screen.
“Ryan, I’m not talking to you if you’re going to be a dick.”
“This isn’t Ryan,” a man’s voice replied; it was high and somewhat childlike.
Chris’s heartbeat immediately sped up, and she quickly pulled over into the parking lot of the Baptist church, which was empty on a Friday morning; her hands were shaking too much for her to continue driving.
Not bothering to ask how he’d gotten her number, Chris jumped straight to the million-dollar question. “What do you want?”
“You were supposed to meet me. Why did you stop?”
“I changed my mind. We’ll use the evidence we find to catch Martin Hays ourselves.”
“Martin Hays has gone missing. Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?”
No, he’d forgotten to mention that little tidbit.
“Doesn’t matter,” Chris argued. “We’ll catch him anyway.”
“Maybe.” The guy sounded supremely disinterested. “But he really doesn’t matter.”
“What does matter?” she asked, though she knew it was a mistake before the words were even out of her mouth. He sounded like he was gloating, so whatever he wanted to tell her was going to be unpleasant at the very least.
Strings of Fate (Mistresses of Fate) Page 21
