It was time for a subject change. “Tell me about Jenna.”
“Huh?” Sam blinked at her.
“Jenna, how is she? Why did she sneak out that night, leaving the window in the garage open?”
“Ah.” Samantha shifted. “Well, the girl is eighteen years old, going off to college in less than three months. I don’t believe she needs to be sneaking out at night, but apparently she didn’t want her father knowing she was going out.”
“Who was she going to meet?”
“She went to a party to meet a friend.”
Jamie gasped. “Oh, please tell me she’s not reverting back to her days of rebellion.”
Sam shook her head. “No, she got a phone call around two in the morning. Her friend Kara was drunk and stranded. She called Jenna, begging her to come get her and not tell anyone. She knew if Connor knew, he’d take her home and wake the neighborhood in the process.”
“Oh my.”
“Yeah. Anyway, she was very apologetic, admitted she shouldn’t have done it, but also said she’d probably do it again if Kara needed her help.”
“Stubborn.”
“It’s in the genes.”
Samantha gave her belly a little pat. “Guess I’d better get used to it.”
Jamie covered her sister’s hand with her own. “I want to pray for you and him.”
“Still a him, huh?”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes, focused her mind and reached out to her Father. “Jesus, you know what’s going on. You know this little baby and Samantha need you. We all do, but Lord, if you would just put your protection around them, keep them safe and healthy, we would be so grateful.” Sam turned her hand palm up to squeeze Jamie’s fingers. “Thank you, Jesus, for loving us and knowing how all this is going to turn out. May it be for your glory, God. Only for you.” Silently, she added, And keep hatred from my heart.
Wednesday Morning
“We got a hit on one of the cars.” Connor sprinted across the floor to Dakota, who was on the phone with his boss. Since Dakota worked out of the FBI field office in Columbia, he reported in on a regular basis. First thing this morning, he’d given the man a call.
Dakota held up a finger, nodded and said, “Yes sir, I agree. I’ll stay in touch.”
He hung up and turned to Connor. “What car?”
“The blue Honda. I had Jessica start keeping track of all the cars she saw coming and going from the neighborhood.”
“Good idea.”
“I figured if he’s that intent on sneaking in her house, he’s got to be monitoring it.”
“And that means driving by it occasionally.”
“Right. She’s been feeding me plates over the last hour or so and I’ve been running them. When she said she had a light blue Honda …”
“Bingo.” Dakota raised a brow.
“Exactly. Unfortunately, by the time I got the plate from Jessica, our guy had already disappeared. I’ve got a team out there searching for him and put a BOLO out on him, so we’ll see if anything turns up.”
“But we got the plate number. That’s great. I bet he changes out cars, though,” Dakota murmured thoughtfully. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then pinched it.
“Like he only uses the Honda for his stalking and killing games but has another one for his daily life?”
“Yeah. Have you talked to George?”
“A little while ago. I asked him about the car thing and he agreed our suspect would take pleasure in driving by her house and watching it. He would also feel superior to the officer on duty guarding the house, because the officer has no idea the person she was looking for had just driven past her – or him.”
“This guy is quite arrogant, isn’t he?”
“Definitely.”
“Did George have anything to say about the party angle?”
“He thought it was interesting, but didn’t put much stock in it.”
“What about the counseling side of it?”
“Again, he thought it interesting, but since not all the girls had that in their files, said it’s probably a dead end and we’d better spend our time on the car.”
Dakota frowned. “Huh. I don’t think I agree with that.”
“Yeah, I didn’t either. But then George isn’t a detective, so his brain isn’t running along those lines.”
“I think we need to push the counseling angle, find out as much as we can about that. George may be right and it’ll lead us on a wild goose chase, then again …”
“I know. I feel the same way. We want to cover all our bases.”
On his computer, Dakota clicked his way over to the screen that allowed him to open up the email that had been sent with the man’s picture.
Immediately, a driver’s license picture popped up.
“And we’ve got him,” Dakota muttered.
“Maybe. Howard Wilkins. Six feet tall, mid-forties. I can’t see what he really looks like with all that stringy hair and the beard.”
“He’s got the green eyes.”
“Look at the acne on that dude’s forehead.”
Dakota gave a disgruntled sigh. “And the bump on that nose. He’s had it broken at least once.” He tapped the screen with his finger. “You know, that picture was taken almost nine years ago. He could look like anything by now.”
“True.”
“Let me Google his name and see what I come up with.”
Dakota typed the name in the search bar. “Well, well, look here.” A newspaper article from a little over twelve years ago popped up. “How is it that a newspaper article that old is on Google?” No one knew or cared. “Howard Wilkins was kicked out of his last year of med school after he was arrested for rape. Guy never made it to trial. Skipped town and apparently hasn’t been heard from since.”
“This has got to be the guy we’re looking for.”
“I can’t believe he actually had the car registered in his name. Is he really that dumb?”
“Or arrogant, believing he won’t be caught. Whichever, I don’t care. It’s a lucky break for us.”
“Let me get Jazz to run him and find out as much information as she can. If anyone can find the dirt on him, she can.”
He punched in a number.
“Hello, darlin’,” she answered.
“Hi, Jazz, how ya doing this morning.”
“Right as rain. What can I help you with?”
“I need you to find out as much information as you can on a guy named Howard Wilkins. I’m sending his license and last known address to you now.”
Dakota clicked Send.
“Got it. Give me a little while and I’ll call you as soon as I have anything.”
“You’re a peach.”
“I know.”
He hung up and turned to Connor. “All right, why don’t we check on the girls and see if they’ve come up with anything new on the files?”
“Excellent plan.”
Jamie snapped the file shut and yawned. She’d been up since 5:42 working on the counseling angle. Connor had waved at her as he headed out the door at 6:30.
Ignoring her rumbling stomach, she looked at the spreadsheet she’d made on Samantha’s laptop. All twenty-two names, dates of disappearance, location last seen, and in the last column, she had an X if they had counseling notations in the file.
Then she added the names of the known victims and their information.
And last, she keyed in her name. The date she disappeared and the date she resurfaced.
She eliminated the girl who’d turned up with the aunt in Missouri.
Not bothering to consider that she was doing Dakota and Connor’s job, she picked up the phone and started calling. Hoping she didn’t offend anyone by calling so early, she decided it was worth it to catch people before they left for work.
Mrs. Spears, mother of Hailey Spears, answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Mrs. Spears, my name is Jamie Cash and I work with …” She didn’t want to mention the morgue,
not to a woman with a missing child, “I’m working with investigators on your daughter’s disappearance.”
“She disappeared over five years ago.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know, but we’ve had some recent activity by the man we believe took your daughter.”
“Oh no, he’s taken another, hasn’t he?”
Jamie gulped. “Yes, we think he’s involved in several other girls’ disappearance.”
“How can I help?”
“I need to know if Hailey was in counseling with a group here in Spartanburg.”
A sigh. “Yes, she was. She was seeing a doctor with the Eastside Psychiatric Therapists group. Hailey had some issues. She’d made several self-harm statements, and we felt she needed help we couldn’t give her. But she’d only had two sessions before she disappeared.” A short sob on the other end. “I’m sorry.”
Heart clenched in sympathy, Jamie swallowed hard, yet excitement thrummed through her too. Another connection. “No, I’m sorry for having to bring it up again. But this helps tremendously. Thank you so much for talking to me.”
“You’re welcome. I do hope you get him. I want to sit across from him at his trial and beg the judge for the death sentence.” Anger vibrated with every word. Jamie couldn’t blame the woman.
After she hung up, she picked up the phone and called everyone she could get. A couple of numbers had been disconnected, some people didn’t answer, but the majority did, and each answer caused Jamie’s blood to surge. She was definitely on to something.
Everyone she talked to had a daughter or sibling in counseling at the same location.
She’d found a definite connection.
But what about her? Jamie knew for a fact she’d never had a counseling session before she’d been snatched. Not that she couldn’t have benefited from it at the time, but it hadn’t happened.
And what about Karen Fuller?
She hadn’t been to the counseling center either. She’d simply been visiting relatives from out of town.
But she had been to a party.
Jamie snatched the phone back up and dialed her mother just as Samantha came into the kitchen. She walked slowly, favoring the side where she’d been stabbed.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
Sam let out a small laugh. “I just woke up.”
Before Jamie could answer, her mother came on the line. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mom, it’s Jamie.”
“Hello, darling. How is everything this morning?” Her words sounded stilted as though unsure of Jamie and what she might be calling about. After all, they hadn’t really had time to talk about the bombshell her parents had dropped on them.
“What’s our sister’s name, Mom?”
Sam went still, hand hovering over the coffeepot – decaf – and turned to look at Jamie.
A sigh filtered over the line as Jamie clicked the phone to speaker so Sam could listen in. “I never said, did I? Her name is Kathryn Kenyon, but she goes by Kit.”
“Kit,” Jamie repeated, seeing how the name felt on her lips. “Okay, thanks. Next question. Why did you give her up and not me? Why not both of us?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
The woman cleared her throat. “I just couldn’t. Even though I was furious with your father for leaving and beyond depressed when I found out I was pregnant, by the middle of the pregnancy, I’d accepted it, was even a little excited about having another little one around even though I was scared to death at the same time.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Then I went in for a checkup and they told me I was having twins. I was stunned. I also knew I’d never be able to handle two babies. For days, I wandered around in shock and then made the hardest decision of my life.”
“You’d give one of us up.”
“Yes.”
Jamie closed her eyes on the sob echoing through the phone line, imagining a young mother’s – her mother’s – heart-wrenching decision.
Her mom drew in a shaky breath and said, “I called my best friend from high school. We’d kept touch over the years with the occasional phone call and a Christmas card every year. Other than that, we never really saw each other.” Another sigh. “But, I knew she couldn’t have children. I also knew how desperately she wanted a child, so I called her and told her my situation. She immediately agreed to adopt one of the babies, and Kit had a wonderful childhood.”
“Did Daddy know?”
“Yes. After he came home when you were almost two, I told him.”
“Was he mad? I mean, how did he react?”
“At first, I think he was a little angry, but mostly he was just sad. So very, very sad – and he felt so guilty. He’s had a really hard time forgiving himself, but over time …” She trailed off, then added, “But he also understood why I did what I did. He said I did the right thing, the only thing under the circumstances. I had no help, nowhere to turn. I’d quit church by that time. My parents were dead, and his parents … well, you know his parents.”
Jamie did. Into doing their own thing and definitely not into children, they were travelers, living the good life. Now, in their early eighties, they only recently sold their hundred-thousand-dollar motor home and bought a house. No, they wouldn’t have put their lives on hold to help out with a couple of babies.
“Thanks for telling me all this, Mom. I’ll pass it on to Samantha.” She took a deep breath and changed her line of thought. “Okay, one more question, then I’ll let you go. I never went to counseling, did I? Because I sure don’t remember it if I did.”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“No, you never made it to your first appointment.”
“What?” Jamie nearly shrieked. Samantha’s eyes went wide.
“Your father and I were afraid you were going to wind up dead. You snuck out at night, partied until all hours of the morning, and came home smashed or high. We were at our wit’s end. So, we decided to get you into a place that could offer what we couldn’t.”
Her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “Where? Where was I supposed to go?”
“A place on Henry Street. Um … Eastside Psychiatrics or something like that.”
All strength seemed to leave her body. “Thanks, Mom, I’ll call you later.”
She hung up and looked at Samantha. “I think we need to call Connor and Dakota.”
29
Delving into the history of Eastside Psychiatric Therapists proved to be a time-consuming endeavor.
When Jamie said they thought they had found something else in the files, Dakota and Connor had sped back to Connor’s house. Just as they pulled into the drive, Dakota’s cell phone rang.
He looked at Connor. “It’s George.”
“I’m going to go on in.”
Nodding that he would fill him in, Dakota hit the green button. “Hello, George, what can I do for you?”
“I might have discovered something rather interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“I decided to enter the rest of the missing girls into the geographic profile data and came across some familiar names. I actually think I treated a couple of the missing girls.”
Shock zipped up his spine. George had his complete attention. “What do you mean?”
“Where are you? Do you mind if I meet you somewhere? This might be easier in person.”
“I’m at Connor’s house. Sure, come on over. What kind of car do you drive? I’ll clear it with our watchdog.”
“A black Buick. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Hey, don’t you need directions?”
A self-conscious laugh. “Yeah, I was just going to mapquest it.”
“It’ll take less time if I tell you how to get here.” Dakota rattled off the directions and informed the officer watching the house that George would be arriving shortly and to be on the lookout for a black Buick.
Dakota headed into the house. “George is on the way. And get
this, he thinks he counseled some of the missing girls.”
“No way!” Jamie sat up straight in the recliner where she’d been curled up with the laptop. “Did he work at Eastside Psychiatric Therapists?”
“I don’t know. He’s on his way over. Said it would be easier to explain in person.”
They waited on George. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up out front. Connor let him in and showed him to a seat. “Thanks for coming over.”
“No problem. I would have been here earlier, but I took a wrong turn and got turned around. Then I got behind a semi on one of the back streets.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Anyway, I’m here now and wanted to show you something.” He opened the laptop he’d brought with him and powered it up. “Okay, I’ll get to the part where I think I know some of the girls in a minute. First, I want to show you this. Dakota, when you and I were doing the geographic profiling the other day, we only entered the victims we had that were found. I went back and added the other twenty-one. I know we don’t know that all of them are victims of this guy, but I put them in anyway, just in case.”
A few more clicks. “Then I went back and numbered them according to the dates of their disappearances. Then I started thinking. This guy may have some kind of fixation on numbers.”
“Numbers?”
“Yes. You said he branded his victims.”
Jamie flinched and Dakota resisted the urge to go to her, but he conveyed his sympathy with his eyes … he hoped.
George went on. “Anyway, I figured if he has this thing about numbers, then maybe where they were buried could be numeric.”
“Meaning?” Sam looked confused.
George waved a hand. “I’m going to skip the process because it took a long time to figure out and I don’t want to waste time explaining it, but basically, the girls were buried according to where they lived.”
He punched a few more keys and a 3-D diagram appeared. “Here, according to number and order of disappearances, are where the girls lived.”
Scattered numbers in blue appeared on the screen. A few more taps and he said, “Here in green are where we found number 3, Jamie … ,” he flicked his gaze to Jamie and she nodded, “number 6, Sandra – number 7, Olivia – number 8, Karen – number 10, Simone – and number 17, Lisa.”
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