Did You Miss Me? (46 page)

‘What do you mean?’ Novak asked.

‘He’d . . . pop up. I’d turn around in the grocery store or the library and he was there, whispering in my ear or slicing his finger over his throat. That didn’t stop until I moved in with the Elkharts. Their security kept me safe from him, but Mama was still living in Riverdale and still vulnerable.’

‘When did you check him out and hear he was dead?’ Agent Kerr asked.

Joseph still hadn’t said a word. He looked tortured. Furious. Deadly. She wanted to beg him not to do anything crazy for her, but she kept those words to herself.

‘When I was fifteen. I was pregnant.’ She looked at Ford, remembering the exact moment she’d decided to act. ‘I’d just felt you move and you were suddenly so very real.’ She smiled at him sadly. ‘I remember thinking that now I had another life to consider. I couldn’t risk him trying to hurt you, too. I knew I needed to tell, but I had a lot of questions – like could he even be prosecuted? What if the statute of limitations on his crime had run out and I accused him and the cops couldn’t even arrest him? I’d be putting my mother in even bigger trouble. So I wrote a letter to the FBI asking about statutes of limitations and whether a parent could be placed in witness protection.’

Detective McManus’s brows rose. ‘You wrote to the FBI? What happened?’

‘I got a visit from an Agent Baker. Claudia Baker was her name. We met a couple more times and then she told me Beckett was dead. She even got me a copy of his death certificate.’

‘Did you tell your mother then?’ Hector asked.

‘No. Beckett was no longer a threat. She believed me about my father, but there was no way I could prove any of it to anyone else. There didn’t seem to be a point. I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me.’ She sighed. ‘I never dreamed he was still kidnapping girls. When I saw him tonight it was fast and I wasn’t paying attention to his face, just to his hands and the pillow he had over Ford’s face. I had this . . . déjà vu, you know? But I thought it was just being here.’

‘But none of this tells us why he’s doing this now,’ Novak said. ‘Why draw you here? And how does Doug and his black van connect with Beckett and his white truck?’

‘It was a van that stopped for me last night,’ Ford said. ‘Could have been black. He shone headlights in my eyes so I couldn’t see.’ He frowned. ‘Beckett said that he and Doug’s granddad were Army buddies in ’Nam. That that’s how he knew him.’

Daphne sighed again. Joseph and Novak both swore.

‘What?’ Ford asked, concerned.

‘That’s how he got into Bill Millhouse’s trusted circle,’ Daphne said. ‘Told him that their fathers had served together in the Gulf War. We’ve had the Army searching for troops who went on to have sons named Doug. If it’s just a ploy, we wasted our time.’

‘Now we’re back to Kim as our key connection to Doug,’ Novak said.

Ford went still. ‘Excuse me? What are you talking about? Kim isn’t connected to this guy.
She’s a victim
.’

Daphne’s heart sank. ‘Ford, there are some things you need to know.’

Chapter Twenty-One

Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 11.15
P.M.

J
oseph leaned against the doorframe connecting their rooms, holding onto both ends of the towel he’d hung around his neck, the jeans he’d pulled on clinging to his wet skin. He hadn’t taken time to dry off, worried about leaving Daphne alone. His concern at the moment was far more for her emotional state than her physical safety.

Her mother and Maggie had arrived, bringing Daphne’s dog. Tasha lay directly across Daphne’s door into the hall. Nobody was getting in Daphne’s room without getting past the dog first.

No, he’d sped through his shower because she’d cried through hers. He didn’t think she knew he could hear her. She’d waited till the water was full blast before letting go. But he’d heard. Her sobs tore at his heart.

Now she stood at the window, looking down at the street which was steadily being covered by the falling snow. She wore no wig. Someone from CSU had found it, but Beckett had touched it. She hadn’t wanted it anymore. Joseph had to admit he was glad of that small plus. In front of him stood the real Daphne.

Or as real as she could allow herself to be. She held herself gingerly, as if she’d break if anyone pushed too hard. But Joseph wasn’t fooled. There was nothing weak about this woman.

But she was . . . softer. The curls that been so tight out of the shower were drying into chaotic peaks, like a wind-tossed sea. Her face was bare, her silk pajamas a soft pink. She looked impossibly young. And so very sad.

She’d had to tell her son the truth about Kimberly MacGregor and at first he didn’t believe her, certain that she was mistaken. But one look at Joseph’s and Deacon’s faces told the boy it was true. He’d withdrawn, not letting his mother touch him.

She hadn’t wanted to leave him but Ford commanded her to go. No, not just to go. To ‘leave him the hell alone’. Deacon promised that he’d stand watch and would let no new harm come to her son. It had been the only thing that allowed her to leave.

Then she’d come back to the hotel to find her mother and Maggie pacing the floor of their room across the hall under Kate Coppola’s watchful eye.

Kate had texted Joseph of their arrival in Wheeling about a minute before he and Daphne had walked into Rampor’s office. Joseph had told Kate to keep the women in the hotel until further notice. Daphne had been poised to tell her story and he didn’t want anything to disrupt her. Plus, he figured anything that Daphne knew, Simone knew too.

He’d been very wrong about that, which he hadn’t found out until she’d told her story in Ford’s hospital room. And so after telling her story once, Daphne had to tell it again. Simone hadn’t moved a muscle – until Daphne got to the part about the picture she’d drawn, the one that had caused her father to be accused.

Simone began to cry, silent tears that had all but ripped Daphne’s heart out.

Mine too
. He hadn’t been much help, though. He’d been strung so tightly while she told her story, it had been all he could do not to break something. Or someone.

Joseph had dealt with child molesters, kidnappers, murderers. In every case he’d wanted the perpetrators to be punished. He’d wanted to ease the victims’ pain.

But tonight . . . It had been a long time since he’d battled such a pagan urge to kill. Not since he’d held his dying wife in his arms. It had been Simone’s agony that had brought his rage to a grinding halt. Daphne’s mother had lost so much – her marriage, her daughter’s childhood, her family. But she’d also been denied the opportunity to heal her child because Daphne had been terrorized into silence.

Simone’s reaction had broken his heart. But Maggie’s . . . Maggie’s reaction had left him puzzled. He’d expected her to be there for Simone, to put her arm around her friend, to cry with her. But she hadn’t. Instead she’d separated herself from the group, almost an observer, her affect flat. Maggie’s ‘reaction’ was to have no reaction at all.

It might be the way she deals with loss
. But Joseph’s instincts told him it was something different. He just didn’t know what. But he’d deal with that later.

Right now, Daphne stood at the window looking lost. He didn’t know which piece to address first – her son, her mother, her trauma, or his reaction to hearing it. He decided to tackle the easiest one first. Ford.

‘It doesn’t have anything to do with you, you know,’ Joseph said softly.

She didn’t turn to look at him. ‘Which thing? There are so many to choose from.’

He crossed to her, sliding his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned into him and her quiet sigh was one of despair.

‘Ford’s a man now, Daphne,’ Joseph said. ‘There are some things he’s got to get through on his own. When my wife died I pulled into myself. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want anyone to speak to me, even my parents. I had to lick my wounds and move on. This is worse than a death for Ford, in some ways. He’s just found Kim isn’t the girl he thought she was. He has to lick his wounds. Find his dignity.’

‘I know. I guess it’s not
my job
to spare him from it.’ He wasn’t sure if the subtle edge to her words was meant for him or for herself.

‘No, it’s not. But it’s your job to
want
to spare him from it. You’re his mother. That’s what good mothers do. Better mothers step back and give their sons room to grow.’

‘I guess I got used to being the one he depended on,’ she said in a small voice.

‘He hasn’t rejected you. He’ll always need you. But pain is part of life and he has to learn to face the pain without your help.’ He kissed her ear. ‘Knowing you’re there if he does need you is sustaining him right now. He’s working with a safety net. You.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘That helps. It really does.’ She swiped her fingertips under her eyes, then cleared her throat. ‘What would help me more is to stab Kimberly in the eye with a really big knife, but . . .’

He chuckled. ‘But you can’t have everything. You’re a fearsome woman. I like that.’

‘Not a monster?’ It was asked uncertainly and he sobered. Sighed.

‘Daphne, I’m sorry. I was shocked when you knew Beckett’s name. But I never thought you were a monster. I was angry that you’d had to go through that. That any of this ugliness touched you. That there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to make the past go away. But never once did I think you were a monster.’

Her expression reflected in the window glass was one of abject misery. ‘I wonder how many he took,’ she whispered.

‘However many it is, they’re not your responsibility.’

‘Try telling that to their mothers and fathers. Try telling that to myself. He went free for seven years before I reported him.’

‘Seven years that he terrorized you with mind games.’

‘I always thought that he’d picked Kelly because she was Vivien’s daughter, that he knew we were coming or that Kelly might have even arranged it. I never once thought he’d do the same to anyone else. Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Because you were a child. A little girl who was forced to grow up way too soon.’

‘I know. But I can’t stop thinking of all those parents standing at the window waiting for their daughters to come home. Not knowing where Ford was for a day nearly broke my mind. How have these parents borne the pain for all these years?’

‘You’re assuming there were others between Kelly and Heather.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t want their blood to be on my hands, Joseph. But it is.’

‘No, it’s not. It’s on the hands of whoever declared Beckett dead twenty years ago. That could have been Beckett, faking his own death. It could simply have been a clerical error, but you didn’t make it. You told what you knew, honey. It’s not your fault that Beckett somehow managed to cheat the system. We’ll find out how. And if it was Beckett who’s responsible for the deception, we’ll make him pay. If it was an honest clerical error . . . I wouldn’t want to be in that clerk’s shoes because they’ll feel as culpable as you do now.’

‘Can we contact Agent Baker? Ask her who she talked to when she investigated?’

‘I’ve sent a request to the DC field office for the report she filed when she closed the case and for her to contact me, day or night. It’ll probably be morning before I hear anything, though.’

‘I hope by morning it isn’t too late, for Kim and her sister. And for Heather. She could still be alive. How can finding one cabin be so hard?’

They’d received word that the teams had aborted their search for the evening. The dogs had lost Ford’s scent as they backtracked his path.

‘They’ll try again tomorrow at first light. They won’t give up.’

‘They may not have a choice. Look at that snow. It’s erasing everything. And what if Beckett’s gone back to the cabin already? He’ll kill her.’

‘If he goes back to the cabin he’ll be seen. The Bureau has all the roads into that wildlife management area under surveillance. If someone drives in, they’ll know.’

‘And if he never goes back and we never find the cabin? If by some miracle she’s still alive, she’ll die anyway.’

She was coming unraveled so he tightened his hold. ‘
Stop this
. You’ll make yourself crazy. You didn’t cause this, Daphne. And their blood is not on your hands.’

‘I hear you. And I appreciate it. It’s just . . . never mind.’

He squeezed her again, more lightly this time. ‘Talk to me.’

She met his eyes in the glass. ‘When I was thirteen years old I decided to be a prosecutor because they were . . . righteous. And they made a difference, even if it was after the fact. They got
justice
. And I wanted justice.
Needed
it.’

‘I understand.’

‘I know you do. The day I met Travis, all I wanted was information on being a lawyer. He was the first one I’d ever met.’

‘He was a prosecutor, too?’

‘Oh no. He was defense. And if I’d known
that
, I wouldn’t have approached him to begin with.’ Her mouth winged up briefly, then drooped again. ‘If I’d known Beckett was still alive, I would have reported him.’

‘I know that, honey.’

‘And I appreciate that you do. What you think matters.’

‘But?’

She sighed again, this time so wearily it made his heart ache. ‘I worked hard to get my law degree. I’ve worked hard to become a prosecutor. To be fearless. Fearsome. Dedicated to getting victims justice. But now . . . God, this is going to sound so selfish.’

‘So? It’s just us, Daphne. Talk to me.’

‘It’s just that nobody’s going to care that I’ve worked for the victims. Or how many bad guys I’ve put away. When this comes out – and it will – everyone will say, “She waited
seven years
to report him?” I’ll have to explain why . . . which will rip me open, for everyone to see. This could ruin my career, everything I’ve worked so hard to do.’

Which would be
, Joseph thought darkly,
an excellent motivation for someone with a grudge against Daphne to orchestrate this revelation
. Still, why now? And how did any of this connect to Doug and the Millhouses?

She blinked and two tears rolled down her cheeks, followed by more that fell as steadily as the snow outside. There was no explosion of emotion, no sobs to wrack her body. No drama. Just simple despair that filled her up and had nowhere else to go.

‘It’s so selfish of me to care about myself or my career,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘because Beckett’s got more victims. Their families will want to know why, why I said nothing when I knew his name. I’m going to have to tell them. They’ll despise me, Joseph, because I was
weak
. And I can’t disagree with them.’

She was breaking his heart. She hadn’t been weak. She’d been a traumatized child. There was no weakness in this woman and he’d defend her from anyone who said there was. Even if it was herself.

‘They won’t despise you. Come on.’ Pulling the drapes shut, he turned her in his arms and nudged her toward the stuffed chair in the corner. ‘Sit with me.’

Wednesday, December 4, 11.30
P.M.

Well
. Mitch lowered the binoculars, no longer able to see them through the window once Carter pulled the drapes. Agent Carter and Daphne. That he hadn’t expected.

Shame on you, Agent Carter
. Fraternizing with a witness. And a perpetrator. Although he shouldn’t have been so surprised. The expression on Carter’s face as he’d leapt to save her from Marina’s bullets had been chilling. A man saving his woman.

But just now, he’d looked helpless. A man comforting his woman as she cried like a baby. It would all be gelling together for her now.

Wilson Beckett had been a busy man this evening.
Took him long enough to get here, though
. Filling his tank with gasoline had taken him longer than Mitch had expected.

But once Beckett had arrived, he’d made good use of his time. The first BOLO that Mitch caught on his police scanner described Beckett wearing nurse’s scrubs, armed and dangerous. He’d stabbed a cop after attempting to murder a patient.
Go, Beckett
.

A few minutes later the BOLO was upgraded to include a white pickup truck at the same time that emergency personnel were called to the southwest corner of the hospital. Sounded like Beckett had hurt somebody for those scrubs.

Idiot
. He hadn’t needed to hurt anyone for the scrubs. There would have been plenty in the hospital’s laundry room. Plenty more if he’d just followed the guy home and stolen the scrubs from his clothes hamper. Now there was a new victim and an even higher price on Beckett’s head. Which was Beckett’s problem.

Beckett’s problems were mounting.

Because shortly after the cops went back in the hospital, BOLO was updated with the suspect’s name. Wilson Beckett. Daphne had come clean.

Mitch was surprised. He hadn’t been sure that she’d ever tell, that she wouldn’t take her secret to her very early grave. He’d predicted that she might reveal Beckett’s name, but only when she was shamed into it by being shown proof that she’d been in that little bunker twenty-seven years ago. That she’d known all along.