Missing Person

by Matt Lincoln

  Rachel took it, fingers trembling as she reached across the distance between them. Her eyes went immediately to the return address. It was in Nashville, Tennessee. The name read Emmett Till. Three years old, she thought as she ran her fingers over the neat letters written in an ink that had bled faintly across the paper. Would he even still be there? Or had he been moving frequently like Mann?

  Her chest felt lighter than it had in ages. This was something they could check, a lead they could chase down, something they could do. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the address before she handed the envelope back to Mann.

  “It’s something,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, relief evident in his eyes. “We good?”

  “Yes.” Rachel reached into her wallet and tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the table. “For lunch. My treat, for your help.”

  He picked it up slowly, one finger gently caressing the soft paper. “Thanks.”

  “Let’s go,” Rachel said to the others.

  Her three companions stood, and they filed out of the café’s patio. As soon as they were gone, the server practically leapt out the door and up to the now mostly vacated table to take Mann’s order.

  The four of them paused on the corner at the end of the street, standing under the shade of a sprawling tree so they could talk about their next move. Rachel stared at the picture she’d just taken. It felt as if her blood was finally moving within her veins again, and she could actually take in the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time. She could taste the nearby water on the breeze. It was as if she was Dorothy falling into Oz in the 1938 film, and the whole world was suddenly in Technicolor.

  “We’ll need plane tickets,” she said, looking at Jace. She was fired with energy. It burned within her so ferociously that she was amazed her feet were still on the ground and not launched right up into the stratosphere. “We should get back to the office. We need to move quickly.”

  “Right,” Jace agreed. There was a fierce lift to his lips like he was just as excited as she was.

  Rachel turned to Linda and Meg and held out her hands to both of them, clasping their fingers as if she could somehow send her swelling gratefulness to them through touch. “Thank you, both of you. This is big.”

  “We’ll be here when you get back,” Linda promised. “And we’ll keep an eye out for Ward on the water. Who knows? Maybe he’ll get sloppy.”

  “I appreciate that,” Rachel said, though a part of her hoped that Linda wouldn’t find him until she got back. She wanted to be the one to take him down. Half a second later, she felt horrible for even having that thought because the faster Malia was rescued, the better, even if she wasn’t there to help.

  She glanced at Jace, and he nodded, ready to go. The two of them waved goodbye to Linda and Meg and then hurried off to retrieve their car. Time was of the essence now, after all, though she didn’t know what she would do once they found Dowell. What if he couldn’t help them? The blackmail loomed over her head. Could she even go through with it? She thought she could, but… She slanted her gaze over to Jace as they walked. He set a fast pace, and her shorter legs struggled to keep up. What would he say?

  Whatever it took, she reminded herself. Whatever it took.

  20

  “What’s our plan?” I asked. “To get out without Marshal Graham knowing, I mean.”

  We were in my car, having raced back to the marina’s parking lot after our chat with Richard Mann. Rachel still clutched her phone in her hand, though the screen had long since gone dark and hidden the picture of Dowell’s most recent address. There was an almost frantic look in her eyes that matched the way my heart hammered away within my chest. I gripped the steering wheel tightly because my fingers wanted to jump and twitch across the leather from all the pent-up energy inside of me.

  Rachel looked down at her dark phone and then back out the window. “If she asks, we’re going to see Malia’s grandparents.”

  “Do they live in Nashville?” I asked.

  “No.”

  It was a lie that could fall apart with any small amount of research, but it would work just long enough to get us out of the city and onto a plane.

  “We’ll go just the two of us,” Rachel continued. “The others can cover for us. Can you drive any faster?”

  I was already going ten over the speed limit, but I pressed down on the accelerator a little harder, eyes peeled for any cop cars roaming the streets. The drive felt infinitely long and short at the same time, and as soon as I put the car in park in the MBLIS lot, Rachel leapt out, clutching her phone to her chest. I glanced around, looking for Graham’s car, but it was gone. That was a relief. Maybe we could disappear without her even knowing.

  Cal was the only one in the office when we hurried inside—Lex and Ramirez still off chasing down his heroin dealer—and Cal appeared from the lab as soon as they heard our footsteps across the floor.

  “Please don’t leave me alone with the marshal again,” Cal lamented. “She’s so intense. It’s terrifying. She kept asking me what you guys have been up to, and I’m not that good a liar to keep it up for much longer.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to,” Rachel said as she made a beeline for her office, forcing Cal and me to follow. Cal shot me a questioning look, but I shook my head and looked at Rachel’s back, figuring it would be best for her to answer.

  She unlocked the door and let us inside, immediately rounding her desk to boot up her computer. I waited for her to continue, to explain to Cal what was going on, but she seemed to have forgotten that she was supposed to go on, so I cleared my throat and gave her a pointed look. When she glanced up at me, I slanted my eyes toward Cal and made a circular motion with my finger.

  “We’re going to Nashville,” she said, picking up on my meaning. “Well, Jace and I are. I’ll need you to cover for us. We’ve got an address for Frances Dowell. It’s three years old, but it’s something.”

  Cal’s mouth dropped open.

  “Why wouldn’t you lead with that? That’s huge,” they spluttered. “Of course, I’ll cover for you. When are you leaving?”

  “On the first plane I can find,” Rachel answered, eyes skimming her computer screen as she drilled her fingers over the keyboard.

  “What did Marshal Graham have you doing?” I asked Cal while Rachel continued to search for plane tickets.

  “Boats,” Cal replied. “She had a similar idea to us, that Ward would be on the water. She had this whole list for me to track down. A lot of them were the same as those already on file, but there were a few others. Private yachts mostly. She’s gone off to check on a few of them.”

  “You didn’t point her toward the Coast Guard, did you?” I said, nerves squirming in my stomach at the thought of those two parties colliding and all our lies bubbling to the surface.

  “Hell no!” Cal said quickly, eyes wide. “That would be a disaster. She asked if anyone in town knew boats, and I said I didn’t know. She might make her own way to the Coast Guard, but I certainly hope not.”

  “Me too,” I said quietly. “Me too. Did any of the yachts seem like promising targets?”

  “The fact that I could track them down at all makes me think no, but I guess I can’t say for sure,” Cal answered. “I’ll let you know what she finds when she gets back.”

  “Can you look up the name Emmett Till?” I asked. “That’s the fake name Dowell is using.”

  “Got something,” Rachel interrupted triumphantly, and Cal and I turned from our conversation to look at her. There was a gleam in her eyes somewhere between pride and mania. “I can get us on a six o’clock flight this evening.” I checked the time. We might cut it close, but we could make it. “And come back tomorrow night. Do you think we need more time than that?” She directed the question at me, uncertainty suddenly swirling across her face.

  “I think that should be fine,” I said, though I honestly had no idea if that was true. “We can always move the flight if
we need to.” I figured that if we didn’t find Dowell within the day, we probably weren’t going to, and I wasn’t sure how much time we wanted to waste looking for him before we turned to other things. (Though what other things there were, I had no idea).

  “Okay,” Rachel said, and she dug into her wallet for her credit card. “Go home and get packed. I’ll pick you up at three to go to the airport.”

  “I can pay for my ticket,” I said since I figured she was using her personal card rather than the MBLIS one, so the charge wouldn’t give us away.

  She waved my offer away, already typing her card’s information into the check-out screen.

  “Okay,” I continued, slapping my thighs with my palms to indicate that I was going to leave. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Cal, if Graham asks, we’ve gone to see my parents in Nashville, okay?” Rachel said without looking up from her computer.

  “Got it. Jace, I’ll walk you out,” Cal decided and rose as I did, casting one last look at Rachel to make sure she didn’t have anything else for them. She was still busy buying the tickets and didn’t even look up as we walked out the door.

  “What are you going to do when you find Dowell?” Cal asked me, but I just shrugged. I had no idea. I could only hope that he’d be as forthcoming with information as Richard Mann had been.

  “What is she going to do?” Cal glanced over their shoulder, back at Rachel’s closed door.

  I shrugged again. “Hopefully not try to frame him for a crime.”

  “Yeah, please make sure she doesn’t do that,” Cal said nervously as we crossed the floor, headed for the door to the parking lot.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, but a slimy tendril of dread wormed its way up my throat. Rachel was my boss. If she really wanted to frame Dowell, I didn’t know how much I could do to stop her.

  We paused at the door to the outside, and Cal looked at me anxiously, wringing their hands together. “You’ll be safe, yeah? And you’ll keep Rachel safe?” I could tell they meant safe not just from physical harm.

  I nodded. I would do my best. I clapped Cal on the shoulder, though it was as much for my own reassurance as theirs. “Keep an eye on things here for me. And maybe send Linda the info on those private yachts. She’s still watching the seas for us.”

  “I will,” Cal assured me. “Hopefully, Lex and Ramirez should be back tonight, and they can help do, well, something.”

  “Constant communication, okay? If anything, no matter how small, happens, you let us know?”

  “Ditto for you,” Cal agreed.

  I gave their shoulder one last squeeze before I let them go and stepped out the door. The sunlight hit my eyes like a bolt, and I squinted against it, fumbling for my sunglasses before the brightness could work together with my exhaustion and give me a tension headache. I hurried to my car and dropped inside, wasting no time getting out of the parking lot and back to my house.

  The pale blue cottage welcomed me back, the air conditioner wrapping its cool arms around me as I walked inside. It felt like I hadn’t spent much time here recently, and a great tiredness gripped me suddenly as I looked at the plush recliner. Surely, I had time for a quick power nap before Rachel arrived?

  Get packed first, I told myself. Then we would see.

  There wasn’t much to pack since we would only be gone for a night. Hopefully. I threw an extra change of clothes in the bag, just in case. Then I made the mistake of sitting down on the couch to wait for Rachel. My eyes slipped shut, and the next thing I knew, I was drifting through darkness, my head pillowed on my hand.

  The sharp tone of the bell awoke me sometime later. I had no idea how long. I jerked awake, confused, unable to place where I was and why my neck ached. I felt the fabric of the chair beneath my fingers, and it all fell into place.

  I stumbled upright, the recliner having almost swallowed me as I slept, and rubbed my eyes as I went to open the door. Rachel stood outside, dressed to travel in a pair of stretchy jeans and a zip-up hoodie.

  “Hey,” I said. “Let me just grab my bag.”

  I’d left it by the recliner, and it only took me a few seconds to retrieve it, and then I was locking the door and following Rachel to her car. We chatted idly as we drove, though it was an odd feeling. Everything happening was so heavy, hanging over our heads on a razor-thin wire, that it seemed almost sacrilegious to speak of anything else. But there was nothing new to talk about within the case, and I craved a bit of normalcy, something other than the devastation of this situation.

  New Orleans had a fairly large airport, and Rachel took us into the long-term parking lot, driving up and up and up the tight turns until she finally found a spot. We gathered our things, and then the lights flashed as she locked the car. We hurried for the elevators, and as soon as the doors dinged open, we were swept up in the vast crowd within the airport.

  Check-in took a little longer for us since we had to declare our firearms, locked safely within the suitcases we were checking even though they were small enough to carry onto the plane. Since we weren’t TSA pre-approved like I was so used to when flying with the FBI, the security line felt egregiously long. The downsides of operating under the radar.

  But we still made it through with plenty of time, and Rachel went to buy water and snacks while I sat at our gate and twiddled my thumbs, staring out the wide wall of windows. Our plane wasn’t there yet.

  Rachel returned and passed me a bag of Chex-Mix, some M&Ms, and a bottle of water, as I requested. I tucked them all into her purse as she opened her pack of Bugles and began to eat them one by one without bothering to put them on her fingers like claws like she was obligated to do.

  Eventually, the plane arrived and disgorged its contents, and a while after that, the TSA agents at the desk began to call for the first boarding group. We were in group four—again, very different from what I was used to—and I rose to use the restroom one last time while we waited.

  At the sink, I splashed water on my face and then looked in the mirror. My eyes seemed redder than usual, the dark bags beneath them deeper. It had been some time since my last haircut, and my curls flopped over my forehead, somewhat of a mess, too long for even my strongest pomade to hold in place. With a wet hand, I shoved them back, but they fell forward again a few seconds later, tickling my skin. I gave up and left them there. I was going to be on a plane for the next few hours. Who cared what my hair looked like? I did, but I was going to pretend like I didn’t.

  After I returned from the restroom, there was still some time to wait until our boarding group was called, but eventually, we could shuffle onto the plane and take our seats. I had the window and Rachel the aisle. It was only an hour and a half to Nashville, so the aircraft was small, though completely full. The vents over our heads droned, blowing icy air at my face, and I turned it down, shivering.

  I didn’t really like flying, and my stomach lurched as the engines roared to life and we pulled away from the gate. I’d flown plenty of times—short hops across the country, longer hauls over to Europe and the like—and it wasn’t like I’d had any sort of harrowing experience in the air, but with each new journey, I still felt like ants were crawling all over my skin, promising that this time, everything would end in disaster.

  I gripped the armrests tightly as we turned onto the runway and paused for the all-clear. Then the plane began to pick up speed, pressing me into my seat, and I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. I wished we’d just driven, even if it was an eight-hour drive.

  “You good?” Rachel asked. Her voice sounded a bit dim and far away since I’d forgotten to buy gum, and my ears were popping as the plane lifted off the ground and into the air.

  “Yeah,” I lied, feeling a little foolish over my fear. It wasn’t even that I was afraid of the plane crashing. I didn’t know what it was. Something about the tin can and the sprawl of open air all around us, and knowing we were treading somewhere we weren’t supposed to.

  “Just close your eyes. Try to take a
nap,” Rachel suggested, seeing through my lie.

  Easier said than done, but I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my lips together until I could feel the ridge of my teeth digging into the soft flesh inside. I reached out and closed the window blind, cutting off the wash of bright light streaming onto my face. Without that light, I could at least pretend I was somewhere, anywhere else, though I could still sense the white shaft coming in through the window in the row ahead of us.

  I regretted the nap at my house. Maybe if I hadn’t taken that one, I would be able to slip into some semblance of sleep here, but as it was, I just sat there with my eyes closed and imagined I was having dinner somewhere nice.

  Time crawled by with excruciating slowness, and I eventually stuck my phone in my back pocket so I wouldn’t be able to pull it out to check the time every thirty seconds, convinced that it was actually thirty minutes that had passed.

  Relief flooded through me when the pilot came on over the intercom and told everyone to prepare for landing. I finally opened my eyes again. I always felt better when we were finally descending back to earth where we belonged.

  I opened the window again when a passing flight attendant gave me a look to tell me that the shade had to be up for the descent, and the city of Nashville sprawled out below us, looking like any other city from this high up. I watched the itty bitty cars crawl along the vein-like streets and counted as many glittering blue pools as I could as the ground grew closer and closer. The long, straight arms of the airport appeared in the distance, and we angled toward it, and I watched the way the concrete grew ever wider.

  Relief flooded through me as the wheels bumped down, and we began to decelerate quickly, the wind screaming around the tin can body of the plane. I let out a long breath as we hit taxiing speed and turned toward the wide spread of the airport, headed for our gate. The pilot spoke again, but I wasn’t paying any attention, eager to be off the plane and back on solid ground.