Girl, 11

by Amy Suiter Clarke

  Ayaan laughed in disbelief and swiped at a single tear that threatened to fall. “I could ask you the same question, but I shouldn’t be surprised you came here on your own instead of waiting for me. I’ll add it to the list.”

  “What list?”

  “Of the ways you could have gotten yourself killed the last ten days.”

  Elle’s face heated. “Every time I told you my theories, you didn’t believe me. I didn’t want you to try to talk me out of it. When I knew he was the one, I just came here. I couldn’t stand the thought of Natalie being here another second.”

  Ayaan put her hand on Elle’s. “I know. I know that I haven’t always believed you, but you have been wrong before. You go with your gut, which is great, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stop to think about the consequences. To yourself, and to the people you love.”

  Elle looked back down at the water bottle wrapper, picking at the corner.

  “I think I know why you’re doing it, though. Now that I know who you are.”

  “Why?” The picture of the cabin tore away in Elle’s fingers.

  “You have spent the last twenty years feeling that you cheated death. That would make anyone bolder. But I also think that you feel guilty for surviving, like it’s your fault you were the girl who got away from TCK.” Ayaan squeezed Elle’s hand until she met her gaze again. “Elle, you deserve to live, okay? You have fought for your life, and you’ve earned it. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise, not even yourself.”

  Tears welled up in Elle’s eyes. Unable to speak, she just nodded.

  “I want you to feel like you can trust me. You can always come to me, and I think you know that, or you wouldn’t have texted me once you made the connection to Stevens. I’m only sorry I didn’t get it until you had already Mission-Impossibled your way into his basement.”

  “So, you believe me now?” Elle whispered.

  Standing, Ayaan retrieved her bag from the floor and brought it back over to Elle. She took out her laptop, opened it, and set it on Elle’s lap. “Sam got your text about what Duane told you. That Luisa and Douglas were dating, and Leo was stalking him, taking pictures. Once he got that, he was able to push a piece of evidence up the priority list for analysis: a flash drive found in Leo’s pocket when he was murdered. He wasn’t sure if it was connected to the murder, and it was password-protected, so Sam had been waiting for the techs to get into it. They finally did today.”

  Elle looked at the screen, hoping her expression was casual enough not to give away that she already knew about the flash drive.

  Ayaan continued: “Leo had two-hundred-fifty-six-bit encryption set up on the files, but the cyber team finally cracked the password and got access this morning.”

  Ayaan double-clicked on the first file, and Elle dropped her water bottle. It landed with a thud on the floor.

  “Oh, my God.”

  There were scans on the screen of diary entries, written in Spanish with perfect handwriting.

  “I assume you can read these?” Ayaan asked.

  Elle nodded, staring at the screen. It felt wrong, reading someone’s diary, but she pulled the laptop closer anyway, skimming the entries as fast as she could.

  Luisa had been infatuated with Douglas from the moment she saw him, that much was clear. They met when she worked part-time in the university’s salon, providing cheap cuts to poor college students and harried professors. He pursued her, called on her regularly, made her feel wise and insightful and unique. Then there were drinks after work, flirtatious jokes about her going home with him, which both thrilled and frightened her until she finally gave in weeks later. A darkness started to tinge her entries within days of their first night together. He started breaking her down, little digs and prods and twists of a knife that she came to miss whenever she tried to remove herself from the situation, like a runner longing for the ache of muscle after days without a run. She thought of leaving, but it was unbearable. And then her negative language stopped. Elle could almost see the exact moment she decided he was right about her, that she should be grateful for his advice, his instruction on how to live her life.

  When she got to the last page, she looked up. “How . . . how did Leo get these?”

  Ayaan shook her head. “I don’t know. The files were created three weeks ago. He must have found her diary somewhere, scanned it, and returned it before she realized it was gone.”

  “Or maybe she stopped writing in it because he never returned it.” Elle scrolled down more, but there was nothing else in the document. “This diary wouldn’t make Leo think her boyfriend is TCK, though. What else did you find?”

  “Blueprints of this house, showing there was no access to the basement from the inside. Which you’ve obviously discovered is wrong?”

  Elle nodded and stood, leading Ayaan to the kitchen. The pantry door was already open for the forensics team, revealing the section of shelves that opened out into a narrow doorway. “I got in from the outside, through the vent, but the first responders were able to follow the sound of my voice when they came in.”

  “Very clever,” Ayaan said, her voice bitter. She turned and scanned the kitchen for a moment before crossing to the electric kettle on the counter by the sink. The countertops were like the rest of the house: clear of clutter and debris. More hard work by Amanda and Natalie, no doubt. Ayaan opened the cabinet above the kettle and stepped back. Elle went to stand next to her, and her breath caught in her throat. Inside the white cabinet was a tin of Majestic Sterling tea.

  “He got a picture of this too,” Ayaan said. “He must have broken in; that’s how he found the tea, and that’s how he knew there was no clear access to the basement.”

  Elle shook her head. “He found all of this, just on a hunch.”

  “That’s not all.” They went back to the living room, to the laptop. Ayaan’s fingers moved around on the track pad, and she typed a few things in before giving it back to Elle. “He also added this.”

  It was a picture of the exterior of a house. It looked ancient, broken down, but it must have once been impressive. She had no idea what the house meant. Why would this be important to Leo? There was no address, and the file name wasn’t helpful. The only clue to its location was a dirty white 213 hanging on the gray siding.

  “What’s this?”

  Ayaan shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve tried doing reverse image searches, scouring Google Earth, but I haven’t found anything. As far as I can tell, Douglas didn’t own any other houses, and he doesn’t have any close living family. His mother died in childbirth with him, and he had two brothers that were killed in some freak accident when he was seven years old. His father died a couple years ago.”

  Elle stared at the photo of the old house. “All the other files are named. I wonder why this is just the auto-generated file number from his phone?”

  “The photo was uploaded to the folder five minutes before . . . well before the ME’s best guess on when Leo died, factoring in the window of time between talking to you on the phone and when you found his body.”

  That had to mean it was important. This was the last thing Leo found, something he figured out even after he called her, believing he had enough. The bits of evidence collected in the folder made her smile. Leo reminded her so much of herself, the many wild goose chases she spent years following, sure she had the right person so many times. But Leo did have him, and that wiped the smile off her face, because he’d never know that he solved a case that had baffled hundreds of others for so long. He had the distinction of being the one who lost his life for it, though, and for that she would make sure he was remembered.

  Finally, she looked at Ayaan. “What do we do now? Douglas has Natalie, and I’m sure he knows we’re after him. He’ll kill her as soon as possible. And we have no idea where he’s gone.”

  Before she could answer, Ayaan’s phone rang. She dug it out of her coat pocket and answered. Whatever she heard on the other end made her instantly alert. “
What? Where?”

  “What’s happening?” Elle whispered, leaning forward.

  “Okay, one second, I’m putting you on speaker for Elle.” Ayaan pressed a button and held it up. “Sam found Luisa’s body.”

  Elle’s eyes were glued to the phone screen as Sam spoke. “After I got your voicemail, I drove to the abandoned house where we found Luisa’s car. We initially thought she’d run off with her boyfriend, but knowing she was with Stevens, the picture of why she disappeared changed. We got cadaver dogs in the woods near the house an hour ago and found her. In a shallow grave, buried underneath a fallen tree.”

  Tears filled Elle’s eyes as she thought about Maria Alvarez learning her daughter had been murdered. “How long?”

  “It’s still early, and it’ll be hard to tell, since it’s so cold. The body is pretty well preserved. But given how long neighbors said her car has been here, I’d say she’s been dead over a week. With her hair at Leo’s house, I’d guess she was with Douglas when he killed him, and he killed her afterward to keep her quiet.”

  Ayaan met Elle’s gaze, her eyes reflecting the same devastation. “Does she have anything on her?”

  “There’s a diary buried underneath her, but it’s . . . well, it’s unreadable now. But her phone was in her car. I’m just charging it up to see if I can get anything off it.”

  After updating Sam about the situation at the Stevens house, Ayaan said, “Sam, I need you to look at her phone and see if you can find anything in her maps app. Anything that would show places she visits often, addresses she’s entered recently. It’s our best shot for finding out where Douglas might have taken Natalie.”

  He was quiet for a moment and then there was a shuffling sound. He read off a list of her most recent trips, mostly for local department stores and restaurants. But one address made Elle sit up straighter.

  “What was that last one?”

  “Two thirteen Forest Drive, Stillwater. She went there the day before she was last seen at work.”

  Ayaan’s eyes locked on hers. “Did you say two thirteen?”

  Elle stood up, vibrating with excitement.

  “Yes,” Sam said.

  “That was the house number on one of the pictures Leo had on his laptop, the last thing he saved.” Elle rubbed her chest with shaking fingers. “Sam, do you have your tablet? Can you find out who owns that property?”

  “Sure, let me check.” There was another brief silence. “The owners are Mark and Betty Miller. They’re in their sixties; I’m guessing it’s a summer home. Looks like they bought it from the bank about six months ago. It was an escheatment, forfeited to the state after the previous owner died, so it went cheap.”

  “Who owned it before the state?” Ayaan asked. From the look in her eyes, Elle guessed that the commander already suspected the same thing she did.

  “Hold on. Ah, got it. Shit. The previous owner was Douglas Josiah Stevens, our college professor’s father.”

  44

  Elle

  January 20, 2020

  It took almost a half an hour to get to Stillwater, even blasting the speed limit with the siren on. After Ayaan called for more backup to the house, Elle couldn’t stand the silence, trying to push through the panic as they sped along Highway 36.

  “Why do you think Douglas gave up his dad’s property? Even if the guy died without a will, his son still had a right to it, didn’t he?”

  Ayaan nodded. “State law would automatically hand over the house to any living children or other relatives, if there was no spouse. It’s rare for property to escheat to the state. So, either the lawyers couldn’t find Douglas Jr. to hand over the assets, or they found him and he relinquished his rights.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. If this is his kill site and he planned to start taking girls again, why wouldn’t he claim the house?”

  As she took the next exit, Ayaan cut the lights and sirens. “Maybe this wasn’t his planned kill site. We know he used the cabin where you were kept back in the nineties; his father was alive, so it would have been too risky to use his house then. If he murdered Luisa and dumped her body at that abandoned place in Shoreview, maybe that’s where he planned to take Amanda and Natalie too.”

  Elle fidgeted in her seat, shaking with adrenaline. “That must be what made him break his pattern. He accidentally killed Amanda early, and then when he tried to bring her to the house to store her someplace safe, he saw the cops and had to change his plans.” Her place wasn’t far from there. Maybe knowing the pain and dread he would cause her was a suitable substitute since he couldn’t follow his normal pattern.

  Silence fell between them. Elle stared out the window, a constant prayer chanting in her brain. Please stay alive. Please stay alive, Natalie.

  After a few turns, they were on a leafy country road just outside of town, driving past giant summer houses for people who could only stand Minnesota from June to September. Their windows were shuttered like eyes screwed up tight against the winter chill. When they came to the house in the picture, Elle struggled to breathe.

  Natalie was in there. She could feel it.

  “Sam should be right behind us,” Ayaan said. “I want you to wait in the car.”

  “Ayaan, you said you want me to trust you, and I do. So, I’m going to trust you with this truth: if you leave me here, I will just jump out and follow you the second you’re out of sight.”

  The commander was silent for a moment, jaw tight. Elle knew she was pushing it, but her hand shook on the door handle. They were wasting time.

  Finally, Ayaan glanced at Elle’s handgun. “That stays in your holster unless I give the word or you have a gun pointed at your head, got it?”

  Elle nodded her agreement but looked away from Ayaan’s gaze. If she had a clear shot at TCK, she was going to take it. Death was the only thing that would stop him.

  They got out of the car at the same time, and Ayaan threw her a bulletproof vest from the backseat.

  Sam drove up as they were jogging toward the house, and he ran over, strapping on his own vest. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  Ayaan pointed at them. “You two go around the back. I’ll take the front.”

  They started toward the back door, the snow in the yard coming up almost to Elle’s hips. She trudged as quickly as she could, following Sam’s lead and ducking out of sight underneath the windows.

  Sam looked over his shoulder, his eyes tinged red with fatigue. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Elle.”

  Unable to think about anything but where Natalie might be, she simply nodded, and they continued on.

  The silence was immense. She heard no sounds from the inside of the house, no cars driving by, no birds singing or planes flying overhead. Nothing to suggest they were not out in the middle of nowhere, even though they were only about ten minutes from the main drag of Stillwater. Once Sam got to the end of the house, he peered around the corner. Elle stepped up behind him, following his gaze. There was a well-shoveled path leading from the back door to a shed about thirty yards away. A drooping, snow-dusted clothesline stretched between two metal poles. Other than that, the yard was mostly bare—or whatever was there was covered by several feet of white powder.

  The coast looked clear; Sam nodded at her, and they rushed to the back door. He checked the handle. It was unlocked. No surprise, out in the country, but still stupid. As quietly as possible, he opened the door. She looked inside and saw straight down a narrow hallway to the front, where Ayaan was silently entering. Their eyes met, and she lifted her chin at Elle. Sam stepped in first, and Elle followed close behind, shielding herself behind his bulky frame.

  The mudroom was dirty, everything coated in a layer of grime. There were a few old coats hanging on hooks, a pair of dusty rain boots slumped in the corner, and several stacks of old newspapers lined up against the opposite wall. It looked like nothing in this room had been touched in decades.

  Exiting the mudroom door, Sam went right and Elle turned left into an
old, seventies-style kitchen. The white tiles were decorated with orange and brown patterns. Wood paneling lined the walls. An old teakettle sat on top of the cold black stove rings. She tiptoed through, her legs trembling from the combination of tense muscles and melting snow soaking through to her skin.

  Back out in the hallway, there was no Ayaan in sight. The glimpse through the doorway across from the kitchen revealed a sitting room. Elle walked in, gaze darting around for any sign of Natalie. There was barely any furniture here, as if part of the house had been cleared out before the new buyers gave up until next summer. A battered wheelchair sat in the corner, waiting for its owner to return. The grimy window let in a weak ray of light. When Elle looked out through the glass, a flash of movement caught her eye.

  Out in the distance, just past the shed, there was a large figure looming dark against the snow. Her stomach plummeted when she saw him lift his arm.

  “Natalie!” she screamed. Then she ran—out of the room, through the back door, and as fast as she could down the path. The only sound aside from the pounding in her ears was boots slapping the ground behind her. They were not being subtle in their approach, and it occurred to her when it was already too late that this was a problem. By the time she was close enough to see that Douglas was looming over Natalie’s little body, tied to an old tractor, she could see he had heard them coming. And he was not the least bit concerned. Rage seared her skin when she saw the red welts raised on the girl’s pale, shivering back.

  “Stop right there,” he commanded.

  “Gun!” Ayaan shouted.

  Elle froze and heard no movements behind her, but she knew Ayaan and Sam were there, staring at the same thing she was.

  Douglas wasn’t brandishing the belt anymore. He was holding the end of a pistol right underneath Natalie’s left ear. Elle lifted her own gun to aim it at his chest, but then cried out and dropped her arm. Her shoulder spasmed with pain from her fall inside Douglas’s basement. She could switch the weapon to her left hand, but there was no way she could trust her aim with it—not with Natalie only inches away from him.