Unraveling Jane Doe (Holding The Line Book 3)

by Carol Ericson

  Another prank? A harmless game of Ring and Run?

  It wouldn’t be the first time. The subject matter of her radio program invited mockery. Some of the local teenagers had started hanging out at the Ruins again. She’d seen the bobble of their flashlights along the bank lately, had heard the whoops of their laughter as she sat out on the dock. She tried not to think harshly of their mischief. She’d been a teenager once, susceptible to peer pressure and the tug of her own curiosity.

  There’d been a blood moon on the night she and her friends had ventured into the Ruins, but she wouldn’t think about that right now. She wouldn’t dwell on the creaking floorboards that should have been a warning or the gleam of eyes that had watched from the shadows. She wouldn’t dwell on the lost memories of that night, the survivor’s guilt that still dogged her after all these years or the violent images that came to her in dreams from time to time.

  She wouldn’t dwell on any of that, even though all of it had brought her back to Echo Lake.

  She kept watch at the window for the longest time. Nothing seemed amiss. Whoever had been at her front door was either long gone or watched from the bushes to see how she reacted. Maybe if she went outside and waved her gun about, they’d turn tail and run. Might think twice about their next little game of Ring and Run.

  Of course, she would never behave in such a reckless manner. She would never knowingly terrorize anyone over a silly prank.

  Locking the gun back in the drawer, she returned the key to the box and told herself to turn in. Forget about pranks. Forget about those disturbing calls. Just get some rest. Everything will be fine in the morning.

  The good news was, she’d managed to fend off a panic attack and she could take comfort in knowing she was stronger for it.

  Even so, sleep was a long time coming. When she finally dozed off, images of a demonic face flickered across her subconscious like the strobe of an unwatched TV.

  * * *

  SAM REECE COULDN’T sleep. He sat out on the balcony of his Dallas townhome and watched the shimmer of moonlight on the surface of the landscaped pond that curved around the gated community. The streets were empty at this hour, the neighborhood almost preternaturally silent. Earlier, he’d spotted a young couple out walking their dog, but they’d long since scurried home.

  An odd restiveness plagued him, though he had no idea why. He liked it here well enough, having settled in a quaint area of town halfway between the hustle and bustle of downtown and One Justice Way where he worked. Maybe the neighborhood was a little too laid-back at times, but at thirty-seven, he no longer felt the need to be in the mix. The proximity of bars and restaurants had become less important to him than quiet neighbors.

  There’d been a time not so long ago when he never would have imagined himself in such a place. Never would have considered a voluntary reassignment to any field office—let alone Dallas—after spending so many years in DC. Maybe he was going through some sort of pre-midlife crisis, feeling the pull of his roots more strongly than the soar of his wings. He’d grown up in northeast Texas and had cut his teeth in the Tyler satellite office after Quantico. Eventually, he’d been transferred to the Dallas field office and from there to FBI headquarters where he’d spent the past ten years as a member and then leader of one of the first Child Abduction Rapid Deployment teams in the country.

  It had been an exciting, fast-paced life, grueling in some ways, but Sam had always thrived on chaos and clutter. He lived for new challenges and liked nothing more than the exhilaration of a complicated case. Yet here he was back on his old stomping grounds.

  He reminded himself that Dallas was hardly a demotion. The field office was one of the busiest in the country with no shortage of stimulating cases. But in all honesty, he hadn’t come back because of boredom or even to be close to his family. He’d come back because his first case still haunted him.

  On the night of a blood moon, three teenagers in Belle Pointe, Texas, had entered the ruins of an abandoned psychiatric hospital. One of the girls had been found unconscious the next morning at the edge of the lake. Another girl had been spotted a few weeks later wandering along the side of a country road in a fugue state. The third girl, Riley Cavanaugh, had never been seen or heard from again.

  In the days and weeks following her disappearance, the local authorities had combed the countryside and interviewed dozens if not hundreds of witnesses. In desperation, they’d finally requested help from the Bureau. Sam, fresh out of Quantico with a savior complex the size of Texas, had been sent in to offer assistance. He’d used all the federal resources at his disposal, but Riley Cavanaugh had never been found and her kidnapper remained elusive to this day.

  Sam had done everything by the book. Everything in his power to find and bring that girl home. He had no regrets as to his conduct, but if he’d had more experience or a deeper insight into the criminal mind, things might have worked out differently.

  The two survivors—Ellie Brannon and Jenna Malloy—hadn’t been forthcoming. Jenna had been deeply traumatized by her captivity. Her reticence was understandable. Ellie Brannon was another story. Sam had suspected all along that she was hiding something, maybe even from herself. To this day, he wondered if the key to solving Riley Cavanaugh’s disappearance was still tucked away somewhere in Ellie Brannon’s subconscious.

  Which was why, for the past few years, he’d been tuning in to her radio show every chance he got. Midnight on Echo Lake. An evocative name for a strange broadcast patterned, he supposed, after the more famous Coast to Coast AM. At first he’d listened to try to pick up on subtle clues and gain some insight into the host. Ellie’s calm demeanor and soothing voice kept him coming back. He wondered what she was like these days in real life. She’d been a frightened kid when he’d last seen her, wary, defensive and perhaps a little intimidated by the presence of an FBI agent, even one still wet behind the ears.

  Jenna Malloy had been the opposite. She’d taken to Sam when she’d refused to see anyone else, including her family and, for a time, Ellie Brannon. After he’d been transferred to DC, he’d still managed to touch base with her now and then. Maybe that had been a mistake. She had a tendency to fixate and he’d been forced to set some boundaries.

  Strange how he hadn’t heard from her in a couple of years and then all of a sudden in the past few weeks, he’d gotten a spate of phone calls and letters. It was almost as if she’d somehow intuited his return to Dallas before he’d known himself he was coming back.

  Now that they were in the same city, he’d have to be careful how he handled their interaction. He didn’t want to turn his back on her, but neither could he allow her to think of him as a friend. He needed to maintain professional distance, but that wasn’t always easy when he remembered the shape she’d been in after her rescue. She’d spent the first two years after her captivity in one mental health facility after another. Sam could still picture her sitting in front of the large window at the Penn Shepherd Hospital in Dallas staring absentmindedly out at the grounds until she would turn, blue eyes shimmering with quiet excitement as the fog lifted and she recognized his features.

  Special Agent Reece! How nice of you to come and see me.

  How are you feeling today, Jenna?

  Better, I think.

  That’s good to hear.

  Can I ask a favor of you, Agent Reece?

  Of course. What is it?

  I would like it very much if you called me Jenny, the way Riley used to.

  All right...Jenny.

  You have no idea how happy that makes me. Will you say it again?

  Let’s focus on something else, shall we? I’d like to ask you some questions if that’s okay.

  I guess so. But I hope you haven’t come to talk about her again.

  You mean Riley?

  You know that’s not who I mean.

  Why don’t you want to talk about Ellie Branno
n?

  She left me there. She left us both. We were her best friends. Like sisters, she used to call us. I don’t understand how she could have done such a thing.

  I don’t think she had a choice. She was found unconscious at the edge of the lake the next morning. If her brother hadn’t acted as quickly as he had, she would have died.

  There are worse things than dying, Agent Reece.

  I’m well aware, Jenny.

  The ringtone on Sam’s cell phone crashed the memory. He checked the screen, startled to see Jenna’s name on the caller ID. How could she possibly have known he was sitting out here in the dark, thinking about her? Sometimes her intuition seemed downright uncanny.

  He considered letting the call go to voice mail, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “Hello, Jenna.”

  “It’s Jenny, remember?” She sounded peeved.

  He kept his voice moderate but firm. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “I know it’s late, but you’re still up, aren’t you?”

  He scanned his surroundings, peering between buildings and down each street. Was she out there somewhere watching him? He didn’t think that likely and yet he felt an inexplicable apprehension. “You couldn’t have known that, though. We agreed you would only call during the workday at a preset time, remember?”

  “This couldn’t wait.”

  “Even until morning?”

  She sighed. “You’re angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry. I just want to make sure you understand our agreement.”

  “Of course I understand. I’m not a child. But sometimes there are extenuating circumstances.”

  “What are the circumstances?”

  She didn’t say anything for the longest moment.

  “Jenny? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  He searched the darkness. “Tell me what’s on your mind tonight.”

  “A lot of things, actually. Did you know that I have a new job?”

  He tried to temper his impatience. “That’s great, but you didn’t call me at one o’clock in the morning to talk about a new job, did you?”

  “I also have a new place. I’m not far from you now.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck where the hair at his nape suddenly stood on end. “How do you know where I live?”

  Another long silence.

  Sam got up and paced to the end of the balcony. The moon was up and the grounds were well lit, but the shadows on the other side of the pond were impenetrable. He told himself that even if she’d somehow managed to ferret out his address, she wouldn’t be able to get through the gate without a code. But as he knew only too well, there were ways of breaching any space if one wanted in badly enough. Jenna Malloy was nothing if not resourceful.

  “Don’t worry, Agent Reece. The location is just a coincidence.”

  Was it?

  “My roommate had already rented the house when she invited me to move in with her. Her name is Hazel. Don’t you love that name? So dreamy and old-fashioned, although there’s nothing traditional about Hazel Lamont. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”

  Sam wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, but he also knew better than to allow annoyance to creep into his voice. His relationship with Jenna Malloy was unorthodox and not without risk, but he always had the hope that something would come back to her during one of their conversations. That something would still break in the Riley Cavanaugh case.

  “How did the two of you meet?” he asked.

  “Oh, we’ve known each other for quite some time. I guess you could say we met through a mutual acquaintance. We have a lot in common.”

  “That’s great. I’m happy for you,” Sam said. “But you also didn’t call to talk to me about your new roommate.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m just making small talk to try to calm my nerves. It’s an exercise one of my therapists taught me a long time ago.”

  “Why are you nervous?”

  Her voice lowered to a near whisper. “I’m not just nervous. I’m scared, Agent Reece.”

  Suddenly she sounded young and vulnerable, and Sam remembered why he always tried to hold back his irritation even when she crossed an uncomfortable line. He’d never been able to shake the image of her on that lonely country road, eyes haunted as she clutched a dirty blanket around her frail shoulders. He’d never been able to forget the photographs and medical reports that had graphically documented her abuse.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked gently.

  “Weren’t you listening tonight?”

  He knew what she meant, but he asked anyway. “You mean to Ellie Brannon’s radio program? I missed it tonight. I didn’t get home until late.”

  “She called again, Agent Reece.”

  “Who called?”

  “Riley.”

  “You know that’s not possible.”

  Jenna’s voice rose in agitation. “I don’t know anything of the sort and neither do you. Her body was never found. She could still be alive for all we know.”

  “That’s highly unlikely after all this time.”

  “Well, someone has been calling into Ellie’s show for the past three nights. She’s been calling me, too, Agent Reece.”

  “What?” Sam leaned against the railing as he tried to quell his unease. The night was still quiet. The brick wall that surrounded the community muted the traffic noises, and yet the darkness suddenly seemed alive with prying eyes and creeping shadows. His imagination, of course. No one was about this time of night. Not here. Not inside his protected haven. Outside the gates, where Jenna Malloy dwelled, was another matter.

  “Why are you only mentioning this now?” he asked.

  “Because I wanted to make sure it was Riley. She always calls at night. Maybe that’s the only time she can get away. Sometimes the phone goes dead as soon as I answer, but sometimes I can hear her breathing.”

  “How do you know it’s Riley?”

  “She started to cry once. Tiny little sobs that reminded me of a lost kitten. It made me cry, too, Agent Reece. I felt so helpless, not knowing where she was or how I could help her.”

  “Have you told anyone else about these calls?”

  “Like my therapist, you mean? She wouldn’t believe me.”

  He chose his words carefully. “The caller says nothing, but you’re convinced she’s Riley?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A few days, I guess. You know how I sometimes lose track of time.”

  “What did she say tonight when she called the radio show?”

  “She said he’s coming.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Isn’t that enough, Agent Reece? What more would you want her to say?”

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve heard Riley’s voice,” he reminded her. “You were once convinced she was living down the street from you. You said you spotted her at the bus stop, remember?”

  “This is different,” she insisted. “I was confused in the past. I know that now. I sometimes couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. I blame that on all the medication they were giving me in that awful place. But I’m better now.” Her voice dropped again. “She doesn’t just call, Agent Reece. She was at my house tonight. That’s why I had to call you. I didn’t think I should wait until morning to tell you.”

  “You saw her?”

  “No, but she left something on my front porch. A gift that has meaning only to me.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Since we were little girls, Riley and I both loved peacocks. It was our thing. A local woman used to raise them and we would ride our bikes out to the lake to watch them. Sometimes we’d find their feathers on the ground and Riley collected them. Sh
e left a peacock feather on my front porch as a message. She’s trying to let me know that she’s alive and in trouble.”

  “If that were the case, why wouldn’t she go to the police?” Sam reasoned. “Why take the time to leave a feather on your porch, much less to call in to Ellie Brannon’s radio show?”

  Jenna once again fell silent. When she finally spoke, her voice was still low but surprisingly determined despite an underlying tremor. “I was held against my will for nearly three weeks. Nineteen days of unspeakable horror. When I was found wandering down the side of that road, I had no idea where I was or where I’d been. I could barely speak. I didn’t know enough to flag down a car for help, let alone call the police. Riley has been with that monster for fifteen years. Fifteen years, Agent Reece. Can you even imagine such a thing? Can we really expect her to behave in a rational manner? She’s found a window and she’s reaching out in the only way she knows how.”

  Her argument was so compelling that Sam found himself buying into the possibility before he mentally shook himself. Riley Cavanaugh had disappeared without a trace fifteen years ago. The chances she could still be alive were miniscule. Hallucinations or a cruel hoax was the more logical explanation.

  But if there was even the slightest chance...

  “Maybe we should set a time to meet so we can discuss this further,” Sam said.

  Jenna said eagerly, “Yes, of course. We have to figure out what to do next, don’t we? If she’s somehow managed to get away, he’ll come for her again. He’s probably out there looking for her at this very minute.”

  Sam tried to reel her back in. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

  “But we’ve wasted too much time as it is!”

  “Jenna—”

  “Promise me you’ll find her. Promise me you won’t give up like you did last time.”

  The accusation stung like the point of a white-hot dagger. “I never gave up,” Sam said quietly.

  “Then go find her, Agent Reece. Go find her before he does.”