by Paris Hansen
Sloane wasn't surprised by Reid's less than helpful response. She shouldn't have even asked. It wasn't the time or the place to worry about a man she'd never see again once the case was over. Her focus needed to be on finding the man abducting defenseless women before he had the chance to take someone else.
Moving her focus to the task at hand was like flipping a switch for her. Immediately, she started to think about what she hoped Tasha Simpson's husband would give them. The conversation wouldn't be easy. Either he'd be so distraught he'd be very little help, or he'd be too angry about being questioned, he wouldn't be able to see what they were trying to do.
Sure, they needed to eliminate him as a suspect. It wasn't personal or anything, but the spouse was the guilty party in too many cases. At the very least, they had to make sure Mr. Simpson had an alibi for his wife's abduction. Once they'd established his whereabouts, Sloane hoped they'd be able to get some useful information out of him. Maybe he saw something and didn't realize it. Maybe Tasha had told him something they'd be able to add to what little they knew about their unsub.
He wasn't just happening upon these women without some kind of preparation. He knew where they'd be. He knew what they drove and how far along they were. Except for Danielle Zimmerman, the unsub knew more about his victims than what could be gleaned by coming upon them randomly in a store.
Sloane was sure he'd been watching them. Probably for weeks, which would account for the length of time between each abduction. The problem was, she couldn't prove it. Once again, she had a theory, but nothing but her gut to go on. With any luck, the Simpson abduction would give her the proof she needed to add one more nail to the unsub’s coffin.
Chapter Eight
Talking to grieving family members sucked.
It was, without a doubt, the second-worst part about wearing a badge, especially if the family member was a man.
Questioning them like they were a suspect because nearly half of all women murdered in the US were killed by someone they knew was undeniably awful. Sitting across from a distraught Troy Simpson in the living room decorated by his wife asking him invasive questions left Cade feeling slimy as hell, but it was part of the job. It especially felt terrible when they knew she was likely the latest victim of the Mommy Murderer.
It was a part of the job he was more than happy to let Morgan take the lead on. He’d fill in any blanks Morgan left behind, but in the meantime, he’d observe Mr. Simpson, his mother-in-law, and even the other agent. Cade knew he’d learn a lot about each of them just by simply watching.
Tasha’s mother sat silently, tears streaming down her face in a chair that matched the one Mr. Simpson had taken when they first started talking. Now he paced behind the chairs, clearly upset by the questions being asked and the lack of news about whether his wife was dead or alive.
“What time did you start your return trip from Redding?”
“I already told you this. We were in the car while she was still at the store. She sent us both pictures of a couple of outfits she found for our son. We already have a closet full of clothes for him, but she said she couldn’t resist.”
“Look, I know this isn’t easy, Mr. Simpson, but we need to make sure we rule you out as a suspect.”
“I would never hurt my wife. I would never hurt our son,” he said while wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “My mother-in-law can vouch for me. I have a receipt from the gas station in Williams, where we stopped on our way home so she could use the restroom. I figured I should get gas while we were there. I tried calling Tasha; I’m sure her phone will show the missed call. When she didn’t answer, I left a voicemail telling her I love her. Then we got back on the road.”
“I’d like to take a picture of the receipt for our records if that’s okay,” Cade asked, but the other man was already one step ahead of him.
Stepping in between the two chairs, Mr. Simpson picked up a long white thermal paper from the coffee table and handed it to Cade. On the bottom of the receipt were the day’s date and timestamp of 13:45 pm. Of course, they’d send an agent or a local cop to the gas station to make sure the time on the pumps were set correctly, but if they were, Tasha’s husband had an alibi for the timeframe she went missing, which was what they’d expected.
Cade took a quick picture of the receipt with his cellphone, then handed the paper back to Mr. Simpson. He looked over his shoulder at Sloane, who leaned against the wall next to the kitchen. She’d let both he and Reid sit on the couch across from where Tasha Simpson’s family sat. Since she couldn’t ask any questions, she felt she’d be less of a distraction if she wasn’t perceived as part of the conversation.
He couldn’t help but feel like the victim’s family weren’t the only ones she was silently observing. It was honestly a little eerie having her back there watching the four of them. Who knew what she was thinking or seeing. Did she realize how uncomfortable he was, or was his acting job good enough she couldn’t tell? Shaking off the unsettling feeling, he turned his attention back to Morgan’s conversation with the family. He seemed completely unfazed by his ex-wife’s presence behind them.
“Mr. Simpson, is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt your wife?”
“But isn’t this that crazy guy who kills women to steal their babies? I heard on the news he was back.”
Morgan shook his head. “We don’t know that for sure. We have to cover all angles, which includes eliminating you as a suspect. If we focus solely on her being a victim of the Mommy Murderer and it turns out she was taken by someone else, we could lose out on vital time and information.”
“That makes sense,” Mr. Simpson said solemnly, his face paling just a shade as the realization hit him. “Everyone who knew Tasha adored her. She’s the...was the sweetest woman I’d ever met. In all the years I’ve known her, she never said an unkind word about anyone. Never judged anyone.”
Cade didn’t have the heart to tell the man he didn’t have to talk about his wife in the past tense yet. He didn’t want to get the grieving man’s hopes up, but he hated watching him go through the motions of accepting her death when there was still a chance she was still alive, even if it was only a slim one.
“She was like that her whole life,” Tasha’s mother added.
It was the first time she’d said anything since the three of them had entered the house. She’d been much too busy grieving for pleasantries.
“When she was a little girl, she’d bring home stray animals, and she’d want to give every homeless person we saw some money even though we didn’t have much to spare. There was one time she wanted to invite this man to dinner because she felt bad about his lot in life,” the older woman smiled as the memory hit her. “I think that’s why she went into social work as an adult. She wanted to help people.”
“She still tried to bring stray animals home, but I’m allergic, so we mostly just donated money.”
“When her father died three years ago, she tried to get me to move in with her and Troy, but I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready to leave the house I shared with my husband, but I also didn’t want to get in the middle of what she and Troy were starting here. They’d only been married a couple of years at that point, and I knew they desperately wanted a family.”
Mr. Simpson lowered himself into a crouch beside the chair his mother-in-law sat in and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders as she started to sob again. Tears streamed down her face while her son-in-law tried to fight them back. They pooled in his eyes, but he blinked them away. Remembering their loved one would be therapeutic down the line, but right now, it had to seem like they were digging at a festering wound. Cade wanted to say something to get the questioning back on track but was beat to the punch by Morgan.
“Had your wife told you about any unwanted attention she’d been getting lately? Maybe a situation that made her uncomfortable. You mentioned she was a social worker. Did anything happen at work recently that might have led to her abduction?”
Cade watched as they both tried to remember past conversations they’d had with Tasha. The team sent to Tasha’s place of employment had already briefed them before they started the interview. If anything had made Tasha uncomfortable there, she hadn’t reported it to her boss. Her last day in the office had been the day before, and things had been business as usual as far as her boss knew.
Mr. Simpson and his mother-in-law both agreed that Tasha hadn’t mentioned anything unusual as far as her work went. Before another question could be asked, Cade’s phone vibrated from the inside pocket of his jacket. He gave the grieving family members an apologetic smile, then pulled his cell out of his pocket. Reading the text quickly, he put his phone in his lap, then looked over his shoulder at Sloane. Her phone was in her hand down by her side.
The woman knew how to get around the rules when she needed to. She might have been told not to say a word during their interview, but nobody said she couldn’t suggest questions for them to ask.
“Was Tasha’s schedule the same every day? Did she follow a routine, like visiting the same coffee stand on the way to work, that kind of thing?” Cade asked before Reid could end the interview.
“Tasha gave up coffee when she got pregnant. Even though she could still have a little bit or even decaf, she said she didn’t want to take a chance,” Mr. Simpson told them, another sad smile gracing his face. “Every day, she left here and went straight to the office, then back here when her workday was over. Sometimes, she’d go to the store after work, but we liked to do those things together, so she’d usually come home and get me first. Same with her doctor’s appointments. I’d pick her up at work, if they were in the middle of the day, then drop her back off at work when it was over.”
Cade’s phone vibrated again before the man finished speaking. Looking down at his lap, he found another question from Sloane. He scanned it quickly, then looked back up at Troy Simpson and his mother-in-law.
“So today was unusual for you guys? Is there a reason she didn’t go with you to pick up her mom?”
The other man sighed, then looked down at his hands in his lap. “Tasha had wanted to go, but the trip would’ve taken twice as long both ways if she had. Between her being uncomfortable and needing to use the bathroom every ten minutes, we would’ve had to stop too many times to make it a quick day trip. And since she’s due any day now, we didn’t want to stay overnight at her mom’s house in case she went into labor while we were gone.”
“The drive up to my place is about three hours or so. The plan was for us to be back in a little over six hours, and that’s exactly what happened. Tasha knew she couldn’t make the trip, so she decided the best option was to stay home. Obviously, she didn’t stay at the house, though. She never was one for sitting idle.”
“If only we’d gone last weekend to bring you down here, or I’d just let her come with me.”
No matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could hold back the tears any longer. It was difficult to watch and made Cade wonder if they shouldn’t just leave the man to his grief already. If he didn’t have one last pressing question, he would’ve walked out then and there. Before he could ask, Reid jumped in to comfort their victim’s husband.
“You can’t play the what-if game with yourself, Mr. Simpson. It’ll only make the entire situation harder on you. There really is no way to know what would’ve happened if she’d gone with you today or you’d gone last week,” Morgan said, his demeanor having changed from “just answer the questions” FBI agent to a man who could empathize with losing a loved one.
He was far better at the switch than Cade ever was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sympathetic or couldn’t empathize; he just had a more challenging time separating the man who needed answers from the man who wanted to help.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Simpson, I have one last question for you. Did Tasha ever mention feeling like she was being watched or maybe followed?”
Mr. Simpson’s head snapped up, his gaze meeting Cade’s as he stood up, then slowly lowered himself into the chair he’d vacated earlier. “She mentioned a few times over the last couple of weeks that it felt like someone was watching her, but there was never anyone there. The sensation came a few times when we were together, and I never saw anything or anyone suspicious. We both figured it was just her imagination working overtime. They say people become overly cautious when they become parents for the first time. We figured it was just a bit of that whole ‘wondering what could be lurking in the shadows to hurt my child’ type of thing. We never actually thought somebody was out there watching her. Were we wrong? Was someone stalking her?”
“We don’t know for sure, Mr. Simpson, but it’s a possibility we’re considering,” Morgan assured him before looking over at Cade. His eyebrow rose slightly, his head tilting toward the phone in his lap.
“We know it wasn’t easy to answer our questions, but you’ve been very helpful. Just know we are determined to find Tasha and the baby. We’ll keep you updated the best we can.”
“Please find my baby girl. Whatever you need, we’ll help anyway we can, right, Troy?”
“Of course. I want my wife back. I want my baby boy back. I’ll help however I can.”
“For now, just stay vigilant. Let us know if you hear anything or if someone reaches out to you. If this is someone other than the Mommy Murderer, they may contact you.”
“Oh goodness.”
Morgan and Cade stood up simultaneously, both holding out their hands when Mr. Simpson and Tasha’s mother started to get up.
“Please, we’ll show ourselves out. If you think of anything else or if anything happens, please give us a call,” Morgan said as he placed a business card on the coffee table.
The three of them quickly filed out of the house, leaving Tasha’s family alone. They walked out to the street where Morgan’s SUV was parked behind Cade’s rental car.
“Pretty neat trick you guys had going in there. I guess that’s one way to get around the no talking rule.”
Sloane shrugged, a sly smile spreading across her face. “We need to head back to the office. I’d like to go over some things and put the board up. I need to see everything together.”
A rumble following her words pinkened her cheeks in embarrassment.
“We should probably get some food in us, though,” Cade said before looking down at his watch. “It’s nearly six o’clock, and we have a long night ahead of us.”
“That’s a great idea. We could have something delivered.”
Cade shook his head. “Why don’t you two head back to the office, and I’ll pick up enough Chinese food for an army.”
After receiving a few requests from Sloane, Cade was in his car, heading toward the best Chinese restaurant in the city. His mind reeled with everything thrown at them in less than twelve hours. None of them had expected a new victim so soon. They thought they’d have time to get Sloane caught up on the case while Cade tried to figure out if she was involved in the real reason he was there.
Morgan was adamant she wasn’t. Unfortunately, Cade needed more to go on than Morgan’s feelings about his ex, especially since he hadn’t been so sure of her innocence in the beginning.
Cade didn’t want to believe she was. From the moment she walked into the conference room, he’d become more than aware of her presence. There was something about the woman that put him on edge, and it had nothing to do with why he was in San Francisco and everything to do with her.
Sloane Matthews was beautiful in a dangerous sort of way. She looked like a woman who could rock a man’s world just as easily as she could slit his throat. There was a lot he didn’t know about her or understand about her life before the FBI. He knew there was more to her than the edgy, standoffish persona she presented to the world. There had to be if she married Reid Morgan.
Her past scarred her, but it didn’t ruin her. At least, Cade hoped that was the case. If Morgan was right about her not being involved, then things would get messy.
&
nbsp; Before he was done with her, Cade was going to have to ask her to re-open wounds she’d probably rather forget. He’d have to tear down her walls and get to the truth of things.
And then he’d have to ask for her help.
Chapter Nine
He knew he’d jinxed himself when he thought things were going according to plan. Nothing could ever be easy for him. No matter how hard he tried to make a plan and stick to it, something always happened to derail everything he put together. His newest find was turning out to be no different.
First, she’d woken up a hell of a lot sooner than he’d planned. Since he’d been driving at the time, there was nothing he could do but hope he’d done a good enough job of securing her zip ties so she couldn’t get away or, worse, come after him.
By the time they’d arrived at their destination, she’d been unconscious again, which worked in his favor because it made her easier to transport. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.
When she’d come to the second time, she’d lashed out and kicked him in the face giving him a bloody nose and a god-awful headache. When he pulled the bag off her head and backhanded her, she started sobbing uncontrollably, which only made his headache worse.
“It’ll be easier for all of us if you stop fighting,” he’d told her before strapping her legs down to the table.
By all of us, he’d only meant him and her unborn child, but she didn’t need to know that. Maybe if he gave her some hope she’d make it out alive, she’d calm down.
Methodically, he began getting everything ready. He laid his tools out on the tray next to the bed; a scalpel, a syringe with the right amount of Diazepam in it to make the surgery more manageable, the retractor he’d need to keep her stomach open so he could pull the baby out, scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He then set up everything he’d need to check and swaddle the baby after removing it. Finally, everything looked perfect.
