by Karen Rose
‘Yes. He was my bodyguard at the time. But he didn’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He wouldn’t, any more than Scott would.’
‘Was Scott there?’
She frowned harder. ‘Yes. Part time, but yes. Part of the agreement my mother and Nadine signed was that I’d have access to horses. It was . . . therapy.’
‘For the nightmares?’ Agent Kerr asked kindly.
‘Yes. Scott would trailer them up from the estate a few times a week for me to ride. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Nadine. She was hypersensitive to scandal.’
Joseph remembered Maggie’s story of Ford blackmailing his grandmother. He wondered what the boy had known. He sure as hell planned to ask.
‘None of those people are Doug, though,’ Joseph said. ‘At some point Doug intersects with Beckett, but Doug isn’t even thirty. He was a baby when you and Kelly were abducted. Somehow he had to find out about your history with Beckett, and if the woman posing as Baker was the only one you told that has to be the intersection point.’
‘What about sons?’ Deacon asked. ‘Does anyone have a son Doug’s age?’
‘Hal doesn’t,’ Daphne said firmly. ‘Scott has three, but none of them would do anything like this.’
Joseph leveled her a steady look. ‘Grayson, are you still there?’
The speakerphone hummed as Grayson un-muted his line. ‘I am. I’ll check out the sons, too. How about the tutor, while I’m at it?’
Daphne’s brows shot up. Her annoyed expression said, Too? ‘My tutor’s name was Joy Howard. I have no idea where you’d find her after all these years.’
‘I’ll see what I can dig up,’ Grayson said.
‘Now can we talk about the gas man?’ Daphne asked. ‘Heather could still be alive.’
‘Yes.’ Joseph briefed the team on Daphne’s idea and McManus sat up straighter.
‘Do you remember the name of the company?’ he asked.
‘No. But there was a cat on the driver’s door. Like a bobcat.’
‘What about the driver, Daphne?’ Joseph asked.
‘He was about my father’s age, black hair. That’s all I remember.’
Deacon took out a note pad and sketched an outline of a man, giving detail to his shirt. He added a round oval where a name tag might be, then sketched a bobcat above the oval. He slid the sketch to Daphne. ‘Take a look,’ he said quietly, ‘then close your eyes and see if you can fill in the oval.’
She gave him a puzzled look, but did what he asked. She closed her eyes, her brows crunching as she tried to remember.
‘What color was his shirt?’ Deacon asked softly.
‘Blue.’
‘Good. Now I want you to picture his shirt. Can you see the oval?’
‘Yes.’ She opened her eyes, dismayed. ‘But I can’t remember his name.’
‘That’s okay. Just close your eyes. Picture the oval and I’m going to read you some names. Think about how big the letters were, how curvy, how straight. How many. Are they wide or skinny. Ready?’
She frowned. ‘Okay.’
Deacon looked at his laptop screen. ‘Dave,’ he said and after a moment she shook her head. ‘Jim. John. Bob. Mark. Bill. Tim. Chuck.’
Her chin lifted and her eyes flew open. They shone with satisfaction. ‘Mark. It was Mark, with a k. I remember the cursive k at the end. But the letters were bigger – there were fewer of them. So Mark. My best guess.’
McManus looked suspicious. ‘Where did you get the names?’
‘Social Security website,’ Deacon said. ‘You can search the Social Security administration’s website for names in order of popularity by state and birth year. Daphne said he was about her father’s age. I input that plus West Virginia and that list was generated. Getting the name of the company might be trickier, although your Better Business Bureau may have a list of companies doing business back then. You can ask your state income tax department, but they’ll put a yard of red tape around it.’
‘Or you could check the old phone books,’ Daphne offered. ‘I’ve searched old phone books for individuals before. The local library might have an archive.’
‘So we have to find the company and a guy named Mark,’ Joseph said. ‘Not a needle in a haystack, exactly, but not a simple Google. What else do we have?’
‘General contractors,’ JD said. ‘I’ll be checking with local contractors and hardware stores today to see if anyone matching Doug’s description has bought any HVAC supplies.’
Joseph frowned. ‘HVAC? You lost me.’
‘Heating, ventilation, air conditioners?’ JD said tentatively.
‘I know what HVAC stands for. Why are you looking at them?’
‘Because Doug does HVAC work. It’s how he got into all those cops’ houses to plant cameras to watch them open their safes. He put flyers in cops’ mailboxes offering a free duct cleaning. The cops’ who took him up on the offer said he did good work, so he’s had training of some kind. If he’d been in the business, he’ll need supplies. Also, you said your sister Holly heard Kimberly say that he needed to bring his GC.’
‘“General contractor,”’ Joseph murmured. ‘I remember now.’
‘GCs and HVAC operators are advertised together in the phone book,’ JD said. ‘Wait . . .’ There was a long pause with a muffled conversation, then a very clear, ‘Shit.’
‘What?’ Joseph asked, afraid he knew.
‘Brodie and I are at the drugstore. She just checked with the clerk and all of the superglue inventory has been turned over. But we have a list of people who bought it, so that’s where we’re going. We’ll be in touch.’
Joseph bit back a curse of his own. ‘Anything else?’
‘Yeah,’ JD said. ‘Brodie wanted me to tell you the paternity test came in for Marina’s baby. George is the daddy.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Joseph shook his head, still trying to shake off the superglue disappointment. ‘I’m really stunned. Speaking of daddies, how much longer do you think we’ll have you in the office? How is Lucy doing?’
‘Don’t ask. We’ve been at “any day now” for a week. I’m losing my mind. Brodie and I are headed off to the names on this list. We’ll call when we know anything.’
‘Do you have any more questions, Bo?’ Joseph asked, when JD had hung up.
‘No, not right now. Daphne, I’m sorry if you were upset with me, but I couldn’t assume you were telling the truth off the bat.’
‘Actually you could have,’ Daphne said quietly. ‘The questions would have been much the same, but the way you asked them would have been different. Tell me when to expect the sketch artist. I’ll be happy to try recreating the woman’s face.’
Good for her, Joseph thought. He’d wanted to charge to her aid with Bo, but she’d handled herself with dignity. ‘If there’s nothing else, we’re adjourned. We’ll regroup by phone at noon.’ He turned to McManus and Kerr. ‘Tell us what you need and we’ll support you. You have the necessary resources to find Mark the gas man.’
‘Assuming he’s still alive,’ McManus cautioned. ‘And if he is, that he knows what the hell we’re talking about.’
Agent Kerr took a map from his briefcase. ‘This is the area we covered last night with the canine teams, tracking Ford’s path. Maybe it’ll jog his memory.’
‘Or maybe he has invoices or an old file of clients,’ Daphne said. ‘The company might still have route records. Let’s find him first and see what happens.’
When Kerr and McManus moved off to the side to plan, Joseph turned to Deacon. ‘I’m impressed with how you brought that memory out of Daphne’s mind.’
Deacon shrugged. ‘We’ll see how impressive it is when we find him. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to catch a little more sleep. I take over for Hector at noon, standing watch over Ford.’
‘Thank you, Agent Novak,’ Daphne said quietly. ‘For watching over my son.’
He smiled at her. ‘He’s a good kid. Who feels terrible about
the way he treated you last night, by the way. He told me to tell you that. I think he could use a visit.’
‘I’ll go as soon as Joseph can free up someone to go over with me. And don’t volunteer,’ she said when Deacon started to do just that. ‘I want you to be alert and rested in case Beckett comes after Ford again. Go to sleep, Agent Novak.’
When he was gone, Joseph leaned in closer to her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had the certificate in your purse?’
‘I really didn’t find it until after you’d left my room. I had a nightmare the night before last but Kate was there and I didn’t want to show her the certificate I have hidden at home. I didn’t know any of this was connected to Beckett then or I would have told her.’
‘But when I came to get you and told you Bo was suspicious, why not then?’
‘You needed to be surprised in front of the others, I thought. Genuinely surprised. Otherwise they’d start doubting your objectivity. Bo did, didn’t he?’
Joseph had no intention of answering that question. ‘I need to brief Hector. If you’re ready to go, I’ll take you with me and you can visit Ford.’
She regarded him for a moment, head slightly tilted. ‘Five out of ten.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Your score. For diverting me from my question. If you want to improve, watch your father with your mother. He’s a smooth diverter. I’m sorry Bo gave you a hard time.’
‘He’s just annoyed because the raid on the Russians was a bust.’
She smiled. ‘That was an eight out of ten.’
‘I’d give you the same score – for putting off the confrontation with your son,’ he said and watched her eyes flicker. ‘Come on, Daphne. Your son loves you. Let’s go see him.’
Baltimore, Maryland, Thursday, December 5, 10.30 A.M.
Cole woke to find everything dark. But not pitch dark. More a hazy dark, like peeking through a blanket.
Reality returned in an icy wave. That’s because I’m under a blanket. And not just one. Based on the weight that covered him, he was under at least two, maybe three of the fuckers. And he was tied. Hands behind his back, ankles crossed. He tried to open his mouth and couldn’t.
Kimberly. The shovel. And . . . duct tape. The bitch had bound and gagged him with the same duct tape he’d used on her during the night.
Mitch, if I ever see you again, I’m going to fucking kill you. And Cole meant that. Mostly. He struggled against the tape, but the more he struggled, the harder it was to breathe. His heart pounding like the whole damn marching band, he gave up.
I will fucking kill you, Mitch. Now I mean that more than mostly.
Somebody had to come at some point. Mitch. Matt. Even the damn sheriff was starting to sound good.
No, I’m not going that far. The sheriff would arrest him first and ask questions maybe never. Not with all the shit Mitch had in the basement. Guns. Cash. A girl.
God. He drew a breath and held it. Relax. You’ll never get free if you don’t relax.
But panic took hold and wouldn’t let him go. Relax or you’ll suffocate. The air was so totally not fresh. By the time help comes you’ll be dead. Tears pricked his eyes.
God. What am I gonna do now?
Wheeling, West Virginia, Thursday, December 5, 10.30 A.M.
‘How do you want to handle this?’ Joseph asked Agent Kerr as the two of them plus Daphne and McManus gathered at the entrance to the bus station.
In the end, they’d used a combination of their ideas to locate Mark O’Hurley, who worked for Appa-Natural Gas, serving a large portion of the Appalachian area thirty years before. They’d found an ad with the bobcat logo in an old-fashioned phone book in the library, used Better Business Bureau records to locate the name of the business owners, now retired, their company defunct. But the owner of Appa-Natural Gas had a good memory and a willingness to gossip. Unfortunately he had a wife who hadn’t seen the need to keep thirty-year-old records. All of his client lists, invoices, and route maps had been thrown away in an office purge fifteen years before.
Then they’d done a new-fashioned Google search to find O’Hurley himself. He hadn’t been home, but they found neighbors more than willing to talk about Mark.
The old gas company owner remembered needing to fire O’Hurley twenty-five years before after several years of warnings and two DUIs. O’Hurley had developed a serious drinking problem, joining AA after he’d lost everything.
Now Mark O’Hurley worked for the bus station.
And here they were.
Daphne cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me? I’m talking to O’Hurley.’
Joseph looked concerned. ‘He might feel too intimidated to talk to you.’
‘Joseph, don’t you think it’s interesting that the man starts drinking around the time my incident occurred?’
‘Yes, I do. That’s exactly what I meant by intimidating. You’re his personal demon.’
‘He’s gone through AA,’ Daphne said stubbornly. ‘He’ll want to make amends.’
‘Lady’s got a point,’ Kerr said. ‘Let her try, Carter. If he looks like he’s shutting down, we can take over.’
‘All right,’ Joseph agreed. ‘Let’s hurry.’
Daphne searched the faces at the bus station until she found the night watchman. She knew it was the right face when her lungs suddenly deflated and her knees went weak. He was twenty years older, but the shape of his face, the placement of his eyes, hadn’t changed. ‘There he is,’ she murmured, grateful that Joseph was there to put his arm around her waist, keeping her upright.
She drew a steadying breath before approaching him. ‘Excuse me. Mr O’Hurley? Mark O’Hurley?
He looked up from zipping his coat. ‘Yes? Who are you?’
‘My name is Daphne Montgomery. I’m with the state’s attorney’s office in Maryland. These are my colleagues, Special Agents Carter and Kerr, FBI, and Detective McManus, Wheeling PD. We’d like to talk to you about the days you worked for the propane gas delivery company.’
O’Hurley’s eyes flickered. ‘All right. What do you want to know?’
‘November, 1985,’ she said. ‘I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember making a delivery to a cabin in what’s now the wildlife management area?’
‘That was nearly thirty years ago,’ he said, but he’d paled slightly. ‘I made a lot of deliveries out there in those days.’
His hands were trembling, Daphne noted. He knows.
‘This is very important,’ she murmured. ‘I’m interested in a day about a week after Halloween. You’d stopped at a cabin to make a delivery and it was late afternoon. Just starting to get dark. As you got out of your truck, the cabin’s owner pulled up next to you in a car. He asked if you’d seen a little girl running around, told you that his sister had dropped off her brat and she’d run off. You told him that if you saw her, you’d bring her back.’ He’d closed his eyes. ‘You do remember, don’t you?’
For a long time he didn’t speak. When he did, his voice was hoarse. ‘I remember.’
‘What do you remember?’ Daphne asked, forcing her voice to remain gentle.
He looked up at her. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Daphne Montgomery. In 1985, I was Daphne Sinclair.’
‘It was you.’ His throat worked as he tried to swallow. ‘You were in my truck, weren’t you? That’s how you got away. You hid under my tarp.’
Surprise had her eyes narrowing. ‘You knew I was there?’
‘Not that day.’
‘When, then? When did you know I’d been there?’
‘Not until a few days after the newspaper headline said you’d been found. I found a little girl’s hair bow in the bed of my truck, under the tarp. Then I remembered a guy asking me if I’d seen a little girl. I wondered if it might be you.’
‘But you didn’t tell anyone?’ The question stuck in her throat. I’m a damn hypocrite.
‘I didn’t know for sure. I told myself that one of my own daughters ha
d probably dropped it in the bed, although it had been a year since I’d seen my girls. Because their mother took them away from me.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Because I was a drunk. I was drunk the day you climbed into the back of my truck.’
‘Did you hear about my cousin?’
‘Yeah, I did. I worried about it, worried that I should tell the cops what I’d seen. I even went back to the cabin when the man wasn’t home. I snuck in to see if he was holding anyone. He wasn’t, so I figured I’d got it wrong.’
‘I see.’
‘And then I saw the family interviewed on the news and there was the man from the cabin, cozy with you. I figured maybe the whole thing was a mistake. That you hadn’t really been kidnapped. That you really had run away from that man at the cabin and that your family had . . . handled it in their own way.’
‘Hm.’ Handled it in their own way? Really? ‘I see.’
‘And then a few weeks later the papers said you’d identified your own daddy as the kidnapper. I figured the guy at the cabin was telling the truth after all.’
It was Daphne’s turn to pale. Oh God. This nightmare keeps going on.
She felt Joseph’s hands on her shoulders a moment before he spoke. ‘I can see how you might have thought that,’ he said, no recrimination in his voice. ‘There was a lot of confusion in the case back then. But today we got new information that the man you talked to at the cabin was the kidnapper. It’s important that we find that cabin. Do you remember where it was?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s been almost thirty years. Even if the place still exists, the roads are going to look different. I just don’t know.’
‘Will you try to help us find it?’ Joseph asked.
‘Now?’ O’Hurley asked, dismayed.
‘It’s important,’ Joseph said again. ‘Please.’
O’Hurley shrugged. ‘I’ll try. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.’
Thursday, December 5, 12.15 P.M.
The police scanner woke Mitch up. A glance at the alarm clock had his eyes bugging out. He’d overslept, seriously so. But all those nights with no sleep and all that driving had finally caught up to him. He’d slept like the dead.