Too Close to Home (18 page)

But no mention of the missing babies. At least that area seemed to be going well. Not that they didn’t suspect a black market baby ring, but that’s all they had. Suspicion.

Satisfaction filled him. He’d been careful. Covered his tracks. Thought of everything. He had nothing to be worried about, and yet . . .

That small niggle of uneasiness worked its way into his brain and no amount of rationalizing or trying to convince himself he hadn’t left a traceable trail behind could silence it.

Another sip of coffee slid down. It was time. Under the table, he snapped on a rubber glove, rose, and started out of the restaurant. He bypassed several tables, stopping briefly to check his phone.

Then continued on his way.

Stopped to punch in a text message.

Then dropped the phone into the trash.

Message delivered.

The director of mall security pulled up the surveillance video in question. Tuesday evening a week ago. “We have six cameras and keep these going all the time. They hold about seven days’ worth of video. You’re right on the edge here.”

He clicked keys on the computer in front of him, scrolling through the days and time up to the point where Connor said, “Okay, stop there. Let’s just watch it.”

“Huh,” the director said, “you got lucky.”

Samantha watched the glass doors, waiting for a familiar face to appear. Finally. “There. That’s Alyssa and Miranda.” The two girls chatted as they walked through the seating area, carefully looking at each face as though searching for someone. As long as they didn’t venture left or right, the camera would stay on them.

No such luck. They went left. The director punched a few more keys. This time the camera angled from in front of them.

Sam observed, “Miranda really doesn’t look well. See the expression on her face?”

“Yeah. She looks ready to hurl.”

Miranda grabbed Alyssa’s arm and stumbled. Alyssa caught her, said something that brought a grimace to Miranda’s face as she shook her head. Alyssa guided her friend to a chair and Miranda sank into it.

Alyssa said something else, pointed, and Miranda nodded. Connor muttered, “Probably going to get something to eat for them.”

A few minutes later she appeared on camera again.

“Right, here she comes with a tray.”

For the next ten minutes, the girls talked and finished their meal with Miranda looking at her watch every few seconds, then glancing at the glass doors. “She’s watching for him.”

Connor grunted. “There goes Alyssa.” The girl wandered across the food court and out of range of the camera. “To the restroom.”

And here came the guy. Shoulders hunched, left arm in a sling, shaggy black hair sticking out from under a baseball cap.

Connor swore. “Can’t see his face.”

“Of course not,” Samantha said softly. “He knows there are cameras all over the place. I bet that hair isn’t real either.”

“He’s got on glasses.”

“Clean shaven.”

Three minutes passed. Miranda shook her head at something the guy said. He reached over with his good hand and touched hers in a comforting manner. He said something else. Miranda grinned, nodded, and pulled out her cell phone. Fingers flew over the numbers, then she snapped it closed.

Sam slapped the desk. “She’s texting Alyssa to let her know she’s leaving.”

“What’s taking Alyssa so long?” Connor asked. “Does it really take that long to use the bathroom?”

Sam studied the two figures walking out of the food court. Miranda’s gait, slow, unsteady, but determined. The food had helped—she seemed to have a bit more strength than she did when she’d first walked in. The guy kept his head bent toward Miranda, his face still hidden by the ball cap. “Alyssa got delayed.”

“You think he sent someone to stall her? To give him time to get Miranda out of the place so Alyssa wouldn’t see him?”

“Maybe, or something legitimate happened. As worried as she was about Miranda, I don’t think she would have stayed in the bathroom that long without something keeping her in there.”

Connor pulled out his cell, dialed a number, and waited. “This is Detective Wolfe, Mrs. Mabry. Is Alyssa still there? I have one more question for her, if you don’t mind.”

A pause. Then Connor said, “Hi, Alyssa. You said you went to the restroom, then when you came back out, Miranda was gone. How long were you in the restroom and did you talk to anyone while you were in there? Uh-huh. Okay. Right. Thanks. Bye.”

Samantha didn’t look away from the screen. “Look, there’s Alyssa coming back to the table. She’s looking around. See the puzzled look? She’s wondering where Miranda went.”

Then Alyssa pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Opened it. “She’s reading the message Miranda sent her.”

Fear crossed the girl’s face. She sent an answer to the text immediately. Sat down and waited. While Alyssa sat, Connor explained the phone call. “Alyssa said a lady came in with a baby and a toddler. The toddler kept trying to get out the door while the mom was trying to change the diaper. Alyssa held on to the older one while the mom finished up.”

“So, it was just a freak thing, or did our guy pay the mom to ask Alyssa to do that?”

“No telling. We probably won’t ever know. As charming as this fellow seems to be, if he paid the mother, she probably thought it was all some kind of joke . . . or a surprise party, or whatever. And the arm in the sling was a good touch. Elicits sympathy.”

“Yeah.” Samantha knew he was right, but it was still frustrating all the same.

Five minutes went by. Alyssa finally stood and walked to the glass doors. The director kept switching cameras to keep the girl in view just as he’d done moments earlier with Miranda and her kidnapper.

Alyssa went out the doors and Samantha sighed. “Just like Alyssa explained. And we still don’t know what this guy looks like.”

Sam’s phone buzzed.

Tom. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sam. I got a call from the FBI. They’ve got a missing senator’s kid. I’m going to need your help on this one.”

Obligation to her buddy warred with the necessity to continue working the case she was already neck-deep in. “Tom, come on. You know I’m working this missing girls case. You’re going to have to get someone else, my friend.”

“No, you come on, Samantha. You’ve done what you were asked to do. The computer stuff. What’s keeping you there?”

“I don’t feel like I’m finished, Tom. And right now my boss hasn’t released me from this case, so this is my priority, okay?”

“What about this missing kid?”

She didn’t have an answer for that one. She sighed. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to find another agent to help you handle it. It shouldn’t be much longer, a few more days at most. I feel like we’re closing in and I’m not really ready to give it up yet.”

His answering sigh blew in her ear. “All right, I guess I can see if Bungee’ll help me.” Fred “Bungee” Kilpatrick was an avid bungee jumper, hence the nickname. Retired FBI, he also pitched in on an emergency basis when either Samantha or Tom needed help on a missing persons case.

“I’d appreciate it. And I promise, we’ll be back working together soon. I just really want to catch this guy, Tom.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t catch you first.”

His concern touched her. She had a feeling he was trying to get her to focus on something else because of the recent danger. “I’m being careful. And hopeful too. It means we’re getting closer if he’s scared enough to kill a cop.”

Just saying the words sent grief spearing through her. She hoped Connor wasn’t paying attention. Slicing him a glance, she relaxed as he still had his focus on the director.

Tom was still arguing with her. “I don’t know. Just . . . be careful, you know?”

“I know.”

“Have you talked to Jamie today?”

This time it was guilt that made its presence known. “Um. No, not today. When I talked to her day before yesterday, she was handling everything.”

“I think I’ll go by and see her.”

“Good idea. Give her my love, will you?”

“Of course.”

She hung up the phone and massaged her aching neck. Too much going on and not enough time to get to everything. Was she getting obsessed with this case?

Maybe.

They thanked the security director, shook his hand, and promised to let him know if they needed anything else.

Once back in the car, Connor said, “Those doctor reports are in. Let’s go check them out. Dakota’s waiting on us. Plus, I want to make a few phone calls about the girls receiving mail. I wonder if the parents have kept anything like that.”

His phone buzzed and he sighed, pulling it out. Sam watched the color drain from his face. Every muscle in him seemed to go rigid as his throat worked.

“Connor? Connor, what’s wrong?”

Connor felt like he couldn’t breathe. Samantha’s voice came from a distance, muffled, garbled, like she was underwater and trying to talk to him. He gasped for air and shoved the phone at her.

She took it.

“Oh no. Oh no. Connor, get to her school. She’s in school, right?”

A picture of the African-American couple sitting at the restaurant eating, their faces sad. Together, yet separate, lost in their own thoughts, maybe memories of happier times or wondering when they’d find joy again. Sydney Carter’s parents.

And a text message below.

DO YOU KNOW WHERE JENNA IS?

He shook, shuddered as he desperately tried to gain control. Fear for Jenna nearly strangled him.

“Connor! Get it together and let’s go!”

He cranked the car. Fury sizzled through him. “If that creep so much as lays a finger on her . . .”

Samantha had her phone out, dialing.

“Is she answering?” He put his siren on.

Swerved around the next curve.

“It’s ringing.”

“Why isn’t she answering?” he shouted.

Samantha snapped her phone shut. “Voice mail.”

He had to think. “Call the school. She . . . she won’t answer her phone if she’s in school. She’ll have it on vibrate.” Hope leaped within.

He yanked the steering wheel to careen around a car whose driver had slammed on the brakes.

Samantha grabbed the dash. He didn’t care. All he could think about was Jenna in the hands of a psycho killer. He started praying.

Connor squealed into the parking lot of the school. Samantha had gotten the receptionist and asked her to get Jenna out of class immediately and have her waiting in the office. The woman agreed, but Samantha still didn’t know if Jenna was actually at school. She could have left the campus without informing anyone.

Connor raced to the front door. Samantha pulled in close on his heels, catching the door as it started to close behind him.

The door led directly to the office. Two receptionists stood nearby, chatted and laughed while sipping coffee.

Slapping his badge on the counter, Connor demanded, “Where’s Jenna Wolfe?”

The poor receptionist pedaled backward, no doubt petrified by the large scared and angry man in front of her. Coffee sloshed over the side of her cup and she winced at the sting.

Samantha stepped forward. The woman’s name tag read Melody Mann. Samantha covered Connor’s hand with her own and said, “I’m sorry. We just really need to see her. It’s an emergency.”

Flustered, but wanting to help, Ms. Mann went to her computer. “I called her to the office just a few minutes ago, but she hasn’t shown up yet.”

Connor threw his hands up, paced back toward the door, did a one-eighty, and stopped in front of the counter again. “What class does she have right now?”

The woman consulted her computer screen again. “Um. English.” “Where?” Connor barked.

“Room E310.”

“And that’s the room you just called her from?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Call her again.”

“But, I . . .” She stopped at his ferocious look and picked up the phone. “Mrs. Hayden? Please send Jenna to the office at once. Her father is here to pick her up.” She listened. “Uh-huh. All right. Thank you.” A troubled frown creased her forehead. “She’s not in class right now.”

“Then where is she?” Connor spoke in a very tight, extremely controlled voice.

“Well, I’m just not sure.” She consulted the sign-out log. “But she hasn’t signed out, so I’m sure she’s here.”

“Dad?”

Samantha and Connor turned as one at the young voice coming from the door behind them. Relief nearly knocked Samantha to her knees. Connor strode forward and grabbed Jenna by the arms.

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged him off. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

Samantha watched Connor swallow hard.

“Where were you? Why weren’t you in class?”

“Chill, Dad. I was with the new guidance counselor.”

Connor swung back to the receptionist. “Mrs. Hayden couldn’t have shared that information with us?”

Before the harried woman could answer, Jenna did it for her. “I never made it to Mrs. Hayden’s class. He caught me in the hall just after the bell.”

“Um, excuse me,” Ms. Mann interrupted.

Everyone turned to look at her. She wrung her hands and said, “We don’t have a new guidance counselor.”

Connor narrowed his eyes and swung back to Jenna. “What was his name?”

The teen sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Um, I think he introduced himself as Daniel something.”

Samantha froze. Connor did likewise.

Daniel. Danny.

His tone more gentle, he told Ms. Mann, “Get Principal Harrington in here and put this school on lockdown. Now!”

Alarm streaking her already stressed features, she nodded and got back on her phone.

“What did he look like, Jenna?”

“Um . . . dark hair, kind of curly. Green eyes, but I think they were contacts. He had an earring in his right ear that was kind of cool. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He was taller than me, but shorter than you—and cute. Oh, and he looked like he worked out a lot.”

Connor immediately got on the school intercom system. “This is Detective Connor Wolfe with SLED. We have a trespasser on campus. Be on the lookout for a white male, dark hair, green eyes, around six feet tall, and an earring in his right ear. This is not a drill. This man is dangerous. Do not approach him. Keep your doors locked until further notice.”