by Laura Scott
Sawyer sighed, deciding not to mention the fact that she didn’t have a driver’s license, and glanced at the towing company owner. “Thanks for your help.”
The guy shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Sawyer returned to his squad and drove back to the precinct. He was oddly upset that Naomi had left without saying goodbye, yet what had he expected? She had thanked him several times for what he’d done. And he knew his telling her to go home hadn’t been welcome advice.
He shook off the despondency and focused on the next steps. He was irritated with Turner, although that was nothing new. The detective seemed a decent enough guy, but he certainly wasn’t as assertive as Sawyer would have liked. The trail was already cold, and if they didn’t find something soon, he feared they never would. Not that he was supposed to be working the case anyway. He wasn’t a detective, at least not yet. But he couldn’t do nothing either.
Returning to the dirt road to nowhere and the hunting shanty, he nodded to the crime scene techs working around the shanty. “I’m just going to look around,” he called out.
“Let us know if you find anything,” one of them answered.
He nodded and walked the area again, painstakingly trying to find any hint of evidence that may have been missed.
The relentless summer sun was only partially obscured by the leafy trees. Sweat trickled down his back, but he ignored it. This road and the shanty were the only clues he had, other than Naomi’s sketch.
If this place didn’t offer anything to go on, then he wasn’t sure what else he could do. The idea of failing to find Louisa and Kate was troubling.
These were only two girls he knew, but what about the others? How many others had been taken away from their homes, their families?
And why would God allow such a thing if He was truly watching over them?
At that moment, a hint of something pink caught his eye. He blinked and dropped to his haunches. Gently pushing the foliage out of the way, he saw the small round pink elastic hair band.
A thread of excitement ran through him. Logically, he knew the hair band could have been left by anyone, not necessarily from a girl who’d been targeted by sex traffickers. But its location here, within a stone’s throw of the shanty and the dirt road to nowhere seemed too much of a coincidence.
He pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and carefully picked up the hair band. He didn’t see any hair strands caught in the elastic, but there was always the possibility that the crime scene techs could find something using a microscope. Getting DNA from this could blow the case wide open.
If they could get it turned around in a reasonable time. Which wasn’t likely, given that he had no proof that it belonged to one of the missing girls.
For a second, he wondered how on earth he’d even found the elastic band. He’d been thinking about God when he’d noticed it.
Another coincidence? He gave himself a mental shake. Whatever. It didn’t matter how he’d found it. Far more important to get clues from it, if possible.
Buoyed by his find, he continued searching. But after another hour passed, he gave up.
Better to get the pink elastic hair band to the lab than to keep searching the woods. Yet, he headed up to the shanty to see what, if anything, had been found.
The crime scene techs were packing up. “Find anything useful?”
“A partial print off the door handle,” the tech answered. “But interestingly enough, no other prints. Almost as if the place had been wiped clean.”
“That is strange.” Sawyer looked around the shanty curiously. “No reason for a hunter to do that.”
“Unless they wear gloves or are poaching,” the tech pointed out.
“This close to the road?” Possible, but Sawyer didn’t think so. He pulled out the evidence bag and handed it over. “I found this about twenty yards from here. May be nothing, but I’d appreciate you checking for hair follicles that might provide DNA.”
“I can do that.” The tech put the bag in his pocket. “I’ll call you when we get the fingerprint sent through the system too.”
“Thanks.” Encouraged by the two clues, Sawyer headed back down to the dirt road where he’d left his squad. He found himself wishing he had a way to contact Naomi so he could fill her in on what they’d found and ask if Kate may have been wearing a pink elastic hair band.
He already knew Louisa hadn’t been wearing one, at least according to her mother. In the photo he’d been given, Louisa had long dark curly hair that she wore down around her shoulders.
What he needed was a photograph of Kate. He should have asked Naomi to get one from their home in Dalton. He never should have let her drive off without giving her his business card.
Lack of sleep wasn’t a good excuse for his mental lapse. He’d gone without sleep plenty of times.
Especially those terrifying days of surviving in the woods after escaping the fire.
Sawyer pushed away the memories of his past. There was nothing he could do to change what he’d done. His role in the Preacher’s death was irrefutable. And he wasn’t sure why it was bothering him so much these past few weeks.
Well, partially because he’d heard from Hailey Donovan, one of his foster sisters and the one he’d always been closest to. Hailey was currently living in Gatlinburg but was planning to come and see him next week, if they could coordinate their schedules.
He was truly looking forward to connecting with Hailey and shared her desire to find the rest of their foster siblings. But he could do without reliving the horrible memories, thank you very much.
His stomach rumbled with hunger. It was past noon, and he’d eaten breakfast at four thirty in the morning. Sawyer decided to swing by a local family restaurant to eat and radioed the dispatch center so they’d know he was on a meal break.
“Ten-four,” the dispatcher replied. “By the way, that woman you had in here earlier, Naomi Palmer? She called looking for you.”
“She did?” His heart should not have kicked into triple digits at the news. He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and shut down the squad. He cleared his throat. “Do you have a number I can use to call her back?”
“Yeah, let me know when you’re ready.”
He pulled out his cell phone. “Go.”
As the dispatcher read off the numbers, he punched them into his phone. The area code wasn’t local, and he wondered if she’d gotten a replacement cell phone for the one she’d lost or if this was a disposable phone.
“Thanks.” Sawyer disconnected from the radio and immediately called Naomi. His spirits plummeted when she didn’t answer, and there was no voicemail set up for him to leave a message.
The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose in alarm. What if something bad happened to Naomi?
What if he’d made the wrong decision in sending her home?
Chapter Five
Naomi had returned home to Dalton, Georgia, just long enough to shower, change, pack a bag, and withdraw cash from the bank. At first they gave her a hard time because of her lack of ID, but thankfully she knew the mortgage department well after dealing with them in taking over her mother’s small house after her death, so they gave her what she needed.
She’d purchased a cheap cell phone and considered calling Sawyer. Then scoffed at herself for being foolish. Instead, she hit the road to head back to Chattanooga.
For some strange reason, she’d felt compelled to take the less direct route to Tennessee, heading up Highway 71. The same general area where she’d been rear-ended and kidnapped while following a white van.
As she neared the area where the crash had happened, she’d found herself clutching the steering wheel tightly in a deathlike grip. But then she was past the area and crossing the border.
Highway 71 turned into Highway 60, so she angled west toward Chattanooga. She stopped at a gas station in East Ridge and nearly had a heart attack when she saw a black Buick parked next to one of the pumps.
The
kidnappers?
Naomi’s heart pounded so fast she feared it would burst from the center of her chest. Scrunching down in the seat as much as possible, she slowly passed the Buick, memorizing the license plate. Being low in the seat made it difficult to see if there was damage along the front of the Buick. With trembling fingers, she called the Chattanooga police station to ask for Sawyer.
Some friendly lady told her he was out on a call but that she’d give him the message, reassuring her that he’d return her call as soon as possible. Naomi hadn’t been happy but gave the number of her newly purchased cell phone. She’d driven past the gas station, afraid to stay too close. What if they were the kidnappers and they noticed the damaged rear end of her car? She shivered despite the warm sun beating through the windows.
No, she couldn’t let them see her. But she didn’t want them to get away either. If they were in fact the kidnappers.
The car had been empty, the men must have been inside the gas station convenience store, paying for gas and getting something to eat.
Naomi realized she needed to go back, to see if she could catch a glimpse of the owner of the black Buick. Taking several deep breaths in an attempt to slow her racing heart, she looped around the block and approached the gas station again.
There! Someone was getting inside the black Buick!
From the back she couldn’t tell if the guy sliding behind the wheel was the same one who’d driven her and leering man away from the scene of her accident.
As the guy pulled away from the gas station, she followed, keeping a wary eye on her nearly empty gas tank. She edged as close as she dared, her stomach tied in knots. There was only one man in the car, which made her doubt in the fact that the driver was indeed the same guy she’d escaped from.
But she needed to know for sure.
The black Buick headed onto a two-lane exit leading to Interstate 75. Gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, she pressed the gas until she was alongside the Buick. The driver glanced at her, and she stared at him as long as she dared.
Was it the same man? As she hadn’t gotten a good look at him the first time, she couldn’t be absolutely sure.
But he might know her. A wave of panic had her stomping hard on the brakes, causing several drivers behind her to hit their horns, which had the opposite reaction by drawing more unwanted attention.
Hide! Hide! Naomi frantically looked for a place to get off the highway. Her instincts were screaming at her to put as much distance between herself and the Buick as possible.
She managed to jerk the wheel to get into the next lane, then she hit the gas again to zoom ahead of the car beside her so she could get off on the exit. In some corner of her mind, she heard her cell phone buzzing, but she was too scared to take her hands off the wheel to answer it.
More horns blared, and she found herself ducking down lower in her seat, so much so that she could barely see over the top of the steering wheel. When she reached the bottom of the exit ramp, she instinctively turned west to head into downtown Chattanooga.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later, she pulled into another gas station, her fingers trembling so badly she had trouble picking up the phone. She wanted to believe the driver of the Buick had been the same man who’d kidnapped her, but she knew she couldn’t swear to it. And there had been no sign of leering man, which was strange.
Was she losing her mind? Was the guy behind the wheel of the Buick really the same one who’d kidnapped her? He resembled her sketch, but the shape of his mouth and his nose hadn’t looked at all familiar.
She rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a long moment, pulling herself together with an effort. When her phone rang again, she managed to pull it from her pocket and answer it.
“Hello?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strained.
“Naomi? Are you okay?” Sawyer’s voice was panicked, and she belatedly realized he must have been the one who’d called earlier.
“I—think so.” She swallowed hard. “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Where are you? Are you safe?” His voice softened a bit as he added, “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’m fine.” Sort of. “I’m outside of East Ridge and have the license plate of a black Buick for you to check out.”
There was a brief moment of silence before Sawyer said, “I can do that, but you know there are lots of black Buick vehicles on the road.”
“I know. There was only one man in the car, and when I came up alongside him to get a good look at his face, he did resemble my sketch of the driver.”
“You what?” Sawyer’s voice rose in agitation.
“I had to know, Sawyer.” She tried to downplay the danger, even though she’d been scared out of her skin. “Not that it helped, since I never got a good look at the driver during the kidnapping.”
Another pause. “What are you doing in East Ridge?”
“Getting gas. Listen, can I give you the license plate information? If it turns out to be nothing, then fine. But it can’t hurt to check.”
She heard him sigh. “Okay, give it to me.”
“Purple, yellow, orange 238.”
“Got it. I’ll see what we can find out. In the meantime, I have a question for you.”
“What?”
“Did Kate wear elastic hair bands?”
Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Yes. Why? Did you find something?”
“Any particular color?” Sawyer asked.
“Her favorite color is blue.” She gripped the phone so tightly her fingers ached. “Did you find a blue elastic band?”
“No, sorry. I found a pink one, about twenty yards from the hunter shanty.”
She cast back in her memory. “I think Kate has worn a pink one in the past.”
“Well, it could be nothing, so don’t get your hopes up,” he warned. “I have the crime scene techs taking a look at it more closely, see if we can find any hair follicles caught in the elastic. But again, it could be nothing. People hike in the woods all the time. Anyone could have dropped the band.”
Logically, she knew he was right, but she couldn’t bear to let go of the possibility that Kate had recently been in Chattanooga. “Thanks for telling me, Sawyer. I appreciate it.”
“I assume the fact that you’re currently in East Ridge means you’re not planning to return to Dalton anytime soon.”
For the first time in what seemed like forever, the corner of her mouth tipped up in a smile. “You assume correctly. I’ll be back in Chattanooga soon, although I honestly don’t know how far away I am.”
“Fifteen minutes, tops. Listen, why don’t you meet me at the City Café Diner for lunch? It’s right off the main highway.”
She was pleasantly surprised by his offer. “Okay, see you soon.”
Somehow, just talking to Sawyer calmed her nerves. On one hand, she felt certain he’d prefer she return home to Dalton, yet on the other hand, she was glad to be seeing him again when she didn’t look like something dragged up from the bottom of the Tennessee River.
While waiting for Naomi, Sawyer used his computer in the squad to run the license plate of the black Buick. The owner was a guy named Melvin Curtis. As he peered at Melvin’s driver’s license photo, he noted there was only a passing resemblance to Naomi’s sketch of the driver.
Interesting that she hadn’t been able to recognize him either.
Sawyer put Melvin’s name and date of birth into the system, hoping he had some sort of criminal record. The guy had done time for auto theft, but that had been fifteen years ago, when he was twenty-five. Now he was forty, and Sawyer couldn’t help but wonder how the guy had gone from auto theft to sex trafficking.
If Melvin was guilty of anything at all.
He glanced up as Naomi pulled in and parked beside him. He quickly pushed out of the squad to join her.
She looked amazing, and still far younger than her twenty-six years. Her blond hair was shiny and clean as it framed her face. S
he’d changed into clean clothes, nothing fancy. A soft pink T-shirt and blue jeans that hugged her figure. She also must have gotten a replacement phone too.
He had to give her credit for pulling herself together the way she had, despite her horrific ordeal.
“You look great,” he said by way of greeting.
“Thanks, although that only makes me think I must have looked awful before,” she said wryly.
“Not true.” Idiot. He mentally kicked himself for making her think that.
“Well, thanks.” She blushed and turned toward the entrance to the diner.
Despite being quarter past one o’clock in the afternoon, the place was crowded, likely the result of the summer tourist season. He only saw one empty table and quickly snatched it up.
“Did you run the license plate number for the Buick?” Naomi asked.
“Yes, the guy who owns the vehicle is Melvin Curtis.” He watched for any sign of recognition, but she only stared blankly. “Sound familiar?”
“No.” She sat back against the seat when their server arrived to bring menus and water.
After placing their orders, she leaned forward again and asked in a low voice, “Can I see the elastic hair band?”
“No, I’ve already given it to the crime lab.” He eyed her steadily. “Try not to get too excited about a simple elastic band. Do you know how many people hike the Smoky Mountains each year?”
She sighed and sat back in her seat. “I know you’re right. It’s just . . .” She glanced away. “I can’t stand not knowing where Kate is and if she’s okay.”
“I know.” He hesitated, then added, “You should have stayed in Dalton, Naomi. There isn’t anything more you can do here.”
A spark of anger lit up her blue eyes. “I found a black Buick, which could be the same one used to kidnap me.”
Could have been, but not likely. “Melvin doesn’t have much of a criminal record. A car theft when he was twenty-five, and that’s it. No solicitation for prostitution charges or anything similar. No crimes involving weapons.”
