Chapter Twenty-Six
Erin was just about to leave her house when she heard a familiar chime ring out from her computer’s speakers. She glanced over her shoulder and debated whether or not to march back into her home office and read the message that had just come in or get on her way. Torn, Erin was also anxious to learn what was waiting for her at Sam’s after hearing about Eva Martin.
“Screw it,” Erin said, deciding to stay. She marched into her office, murmuring, “It will only take a minute.”
Dropping her tote at her feet, Erin leaned over her desk, pushed her podcast microphone off to the side, and draped a hand over the computer mouse, waking up the screen. She opened her Real Crime News website message board and clicked the notification link.
Today marks Megan’s twentieth day gone, she read.
Erin sighed, closed her eyes, and said a quick prayer for Megan Hines. A day hadn’t gone by that she hadn’t thought about Megan. Megan was her first—and last—thought of the day, and twenty days missing felt like an eternity.
“We’re still looking for you, Megan,” Erin said as she continued to read.
Bringing one hand to her belly, she felt her stomach roll. There were enough people giving up on Megan to make Erin suddenly not feel so well. With her thoughts on the general victimization of women, she lowered herself into her desk chair thinking about yesterday’s Jane Doe. Erin hoped she wasn’t Megan Hines, but that chance was very real. And despite others giving up on finding her, Erin wanted nothing more than to help bring Megan home.
Tipping forward, she continued to scroll through more comments.
The message board was lighting up with remarks rolling in from around the country. Everyone had an opinion to what might have happened to Megan, but more interesting was how Megan’s disappearance encouraged women to share their own stories of abuse and violence.
“Why does it always seem to be women these things happen to?” one commenter asked.
Another post said, “Men don’t understand how scary it can be for us women to walk to work, school, or take our children to the park. Worse, it’s usually the men we trust that turn around and hurt us—or, God forbid, kill us.”
Erin glanced to a photo of her mother framed on her wall. She’d thought about her father and what had happened to them both when the queasy feeling in her stomach fluttered up into her chest.
Another chime and the latest comment began working its way to the top of the list. A participant admitted to being a victim of domestic violence, then a few more women followed up with their own stories until the snowball effect grew into something much larger than Erin could have ever predicted. Then, without warning, women began calling out their assailants by name.
Erin felt her heartrate turn up a notch. It was exciting to see, but also dangerous. None of these accusations could be verified, and Erin could only hope it was true. The last thing she wanted was to provide the platform for a smear campaign. Not sure if she should shut it down or not, she let it go. Five minutes later, Erin was walking to her car where she found another message waiting.
Pinched between the wiper and windshield was an envelope, and inside were more individual words cut out from newspaper. Erin didn’t know what to make of it, or what was meant by it, but as she held the envelope in her hand, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I don’t know who she was,” I said, telling Dawson about last night’s Jane Doe. “But it’s possible the victim could have been Megan Hines.”
I’d been on the phone with him since my call to Erin. I could hear Dawson thinking and I diverted my attention back to the TV.
The local news report still hadn’t said anything about Jane Doe or Eva Martin. It didn’t make sense. How could I have the exclusive on this? The longer these crimes went unreported, the more I believed the mayor was trying to hide something.
“Stay ahead of this, Sam,” Dawson said. “Even if everyone else’s interests have waned, there is still a story out there waiting for you somewhere.”
I glanced to the calendar and thought about how many days Megan Hines had been missing. My red X’s were adding up and it had quickly become my least favorite time of day—the time I marked off another day without having found her.
“I’ll be heading to the morgue to try to ID our Jane Doe,” I said, thinking how lucky I was to have Dawson’s unwavering support.
“Let me know as soon as you find out,” he said before pulling my feet back down to Earth. “And, Sam, I suggest you keep your opinions private—it might be your blog but it’s your byline in my paper.”
He was referring the opinion piece I wrote last night about the mayor. There was no way in hell he’d approve it for print, but it needed to be said. I’d put it out to the audience I had full control of to see what might come of it without fears of repercussion. Apparently, I’d managed to get at least one person’s attention.
“What I do on my blog is my own business,” I said, hearing my front door open. I waved for Erin to come inside. She hurried to the couch and emptied a plastic bag of clippings on the coffee table. I’d wondered what she had, but Dawson was barking in my ear, distracting my focus.
“I’m not ready to go to battle with the mayor’s office,” he said. “Not until you can deliver more concrete proof that Goldberg is actually hiding crimes in order to make his administration look good.”
“Is that a challenge?” I asked.
“Talk to me after you figure out who Jane Doe is.”
Once off the phone, I turned to Erin. She was hunched over and focused, busy rearranging the clippings she’d dumped out. I moved to the living room and saw that they were words, just like the cryptic message I’d received.
Erin paused and gave me a look before telling me where she’d found it.
I immediately thought about Archie Smith and what I read about PQK. “Did you see anyone who may have left it?”
Erin hadn’t.
I didn’t like this one bit. Someone was playing games with us. I joined in, kept moving words around, trying to make sense of them. It was clear we’d gotten someone’s attention, but was it Archie or the person behind Megan’s suspected kidnapping? I didn’t know.
Then I got it.
We both stared at the sentence I’d formed before locking eyes.
“Where is Eva?” Erin asked.
I pointed to the bathroom in the back.
Erin craned her neck and whispered, “Sam, I think I’m being followed.”
“Like, followed here?”
Erin nodded.
I pushed my fingers through my hair. I didn’t like what I was hearing. Eva was already afraid to go home, and now I feared Erin might have led whoever did this to her straight to my front door. I cast my gaze back to the words and heard the thick bubble of confusion close over my ears.
Eva stepped out of the shower just then, and we both turned to look at her. Our eyes met and I looked once again to the sentence I created from the clippings. The connection seemed obvious, but could this message really be about Eva? I read it again, wanting it to say something other than what I’d come up with. Deep down, I knew this was the message we were meant to receive—He’ll kill the girl if you don’t help.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eva stared to the front of the house like she knew what we’d just discovered. I looked back, feeling my vision tunnel. There were many times I wished I had more square footage than what I did, but nothing like what I wished for now.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
I erased the sentence we’d just formed with a quick swipe of my hand as I stood and introduced Eva to Erin. “Eva, I’d like you to meet Erin.”
Erin ironed her hands down her thighs and stood with a bright smile. “Hi, Eva. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Eva flicked her gaze between us before padding forward on tender feet. She traveled through the kitchen, past the dining room table, and into
the living room. She looked beautiful even in my tee and sweats. Her long jet-black hair—now washed and combed—cascaded down the center of her back and was absolutely gorgeous. She looked like a college kid taking it easy on vacation break.
As Erin made small talk with Eva, I kept glancing to the coffee table to make sure the clippings didn’t resemble anything other than a pile of random words. Eva didn’t seem to notice—or at least she didn’t say anything—and I never saw her gaze settle on the words.
After a minute with Erin, Eva took a seat on the sofa chair and pulled her knees to her chest. She said, “The shower was wonderful. Thank you.”
My smile hit my eyes. “You must be hungry. Can I make you something to eat?”
“I’m sorry for barging in like this, but I really didn’t know where else to go.”
Eva was holding my gaze longer than when she first arrived to my house. It was another small sign that she was letting her walls down. Though we were complete strangers, there was something about her that made me feel like I’d known her from some time before. Perhaps it was the possible connection to Megan? Or maybe it was that she seemed completely genuine in character—a trait I was attracted to? Whatever it was, I knew she felt right at home.
“Do you have roommates? Family? Anyone we can call to let them know you’re here and safe?” I was leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and fingers weaved together. “They must be wondering where you are.”
Eva looked down and shook her head no. “I live alone and don’t have any family.”
I felt my stomach harden at the thought of having no one to call. I couldn’t imagine a life without Mason, King, or my sister in it—let alone the girls. I wondered what her story was, what happened to her family, and why she didn’t have any friends. But I saved my breath for the questions I wanted to ask about her kidnapping.
An awkward silence settled between us, and I could see Erin getting antsy to ask more questions. But I didn’t want to push too hard, too fast. This was the slow road to recovery—maybe even a slower road to learning who took her and why.
“What is today?” Eva asked.
I met her eye and said, “Wednesday, August 26th.”
Eva sighed. “I should be in class today.”
Erin asked where she attended school and we learned Eva was a sophomore at Denver University studying business information and analytics. “Don’t worry about school,” Erin said. “It will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”
“Can you tell me why you requested Detective King to bring you here?” I asked, already having an idea thanks to King’s report. But I wanted to have Eva tell me, get her more comfortable talking, and trusting us with the information she was willing to share.
Eva said, “I saw your coverage of Megan Hines’s disappearance at some point.” Eva’s eyebrows knitted when she locked eyes with me. “Is she still missing?”
“She is,” I said.
“Do you know how long you were gone?” Erin asked.
Eva thought about her week. “I think I was taken Sunday night.”
“Were you taken from your house?”
“A block away from my apartment while I was out for an evening run.” Eva wet her lips with a single swipe of her tongue. “At least, that’s what I think happened.”
“But you don’t know who took you?”
Eva shook her head.
Erin met my eye and I quickly shifted my focus back to Eva. I thought back to what King said about how Eva feared her kidnapper would be waiting for her to return. I hated knowing Erin thought she’d been followed here. Could it have been Eva’s kidnapper who had followed Erin? I hoped Erin was only being unusually paranoid—but the envelope she found on her car told me otherwise.
“You’re safe here,” I said, glancing to the clippings, hoping I wouldn’t regret my words. “But we need to know what happened to you after you were taken. It’s not only Megan Hines we’re looking for, there might be others, and we think that you were the lucky one who got away.”
Eva’s face paled. “There are others?”
“We think so.”
Erin asked, “Did you see his face?”
Eva shook her head no. “He wore a mask. And he didn’t rape me, but I knew he eventually would.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Yes.” Eva’s words caught in her throat. “He talked in whispers, saying how much he cared.”
“Is that all he said?”
“No. He also said he was thirsty, always thirsty.” Eva’s watery eyes lifted. “I thought I was going to die.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Because I escaped.” Eva raised her gaze and speculated why she wasn’t blindfolded. “He wanted me to see him hiding behind his mask—wanted me to know what was coming.” Eva told us how she got away, how she was picked up in the middle of the night by Christopher Bowers. She’d gotten lucky.
When we thought we had the whole story, a knock on the front door made us all freeze.
Eva’s breath hitched as she looked to me. Cooper was in the window barking. Erin gave me a look, too, one that didn’t inspire confidence. We were thinking the same thing, asking if this could be the person she thought was following her. I hoped it wasn’t.
I stood and said, “I’m sure it’s nothing, but maybe you two should go to the kitchen.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Is it Him?”
This was Eva’s fear—that her kidnapper would come back for her. The only difference was that we weren’t at her place.
As I stood, I gave Erin a look. Without speaking, she followed my suggestion and took Eva into the kitchen for added precaution.
Another quick rap on the door and I knew Erin would blame herself if this turned into something dangerous for us all. I remained optimistic. Once they were out of sight, I dried my palms on my pants and reached for the doorknob. Taking a look through the peephole, I couldn’t believe whose face I saw.
Archie Smith was dancing on his toes, his eyes hopeful he was at the right place.
Anger welled in my chest as I flung the door open. I said, “What are you doing here and how the hell do you know where I live?”
The corners of Archie’s mouth curled into a sharp grin. His eyes glimmered as he cast his gaze over my shoulder. “Hey, is that my book I see?”
My hands fell to my sides as my eyebrows gathered with regret. There were many reasons I shouldn’t have left his book out in plain view, and this was one of them. But how could I have predicted Archie Smith would come knocking?
The corners of his eyes crinkled. He was looking at me differently now. “You didn’t say you were a fan.”
Archie stepped forward like he wanted to enter my house, and I blocked his pursuit. “That’s because I’m not.” He cocked his head to the side and gave me an arched look, as if surprised I didn’t want to invite him inside. “This is my private residence and I don’t like surprise visits.”
Archie smiled. “I’m sorry, I really should have called, but I didn’t have your number, I had to follow Detective King.”
I silently cursed King for not noticing he was being tailed. He was a better cop than that. I cast my focus to Archie’s hand and saw what he was holding, then asked, “What do you want?”
“I want to know who she is.”
“Who who is?”
Archie chuckled. “The girl the police brought you.” When I didn’t answer, Archie continued, “Was it Megan Hines? And don’t deny that there’s a girl inside because I saw her enter with my own eyes.”
I dropped my focus back to his hand. “What are you doing with one of my articles?”
“Oh, this?” Archie raised the newspaper above his waist and, as he did, I looked for holes, possible places where words had been cut out. I didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean I didn’t miss something. Archie continued, “You reported on Megan Hines’s disappearance more than anybody else. Why is that?”
I knew his angle, knew Arc
hie was hoping Megan would be found dead so he could work his active serial killer theory. There was no way I was going to tell him about Eva. “And your point is?”
“You’d be the first to know girls like Megan aren’t chosen at random.”
I repeated myself. “She’s not here.”
“If not Megan, who is the girl?”
I thought about why Archie was here, what he was doing in Colorado at all. He should be looking into cold cases, murders, not kidnappings or missing persons. And he should be talking to the cops, not me. “I’m sorry, Archie, but that’s none of your business. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I really must be getting back to work.”
When I turned to face the door, Archie caught me by the arm. I turned and raised my lip with a snarl that got him to back off. He immediately uncurled his fingers and released me.
He said, “Do you know why last night’s Jane Doe went unreported?”
My eyes squinted. “How do you know about that?”
Archie tipped his head back. “The same way you do.”
Allison told me about the scene, but did she also tell Archie? Impossible. “I’m still looking for answers,” I said after Archie asked me again why the Jane Doe scene played out the way it had.
“Then let me save you some time.” Archie backpedaled his way down my short flight of stairs. “Perhaps it’s because there is an active serial rapist-killer currently working the Denver area that the mayor doesn’t want the public to know about. Don’t believe me? Ask the girl inside what she thinks about my theory.”
Chapter Thirty
“Thank you for coming.” Ruth Booth stepped aside and invited Detective King and Detective Gray into her two-bedroom, single-story house in the University neighborhood. Gray entered the apartment first, followed by King. Ruth latched the door behind them both and said, “Please, have a seat on the couch.”
MAD AS BELL Page 7
