She looked around the room, wondering where Jankowski had gone. Fordham had said he was in the living room, interviewing the witnesses, but as far as she could see he was nowhere in sight.
“Has Detective Jankowski spoken to you yet?” Nessa asked Eden.
She knew they needed to be patient and methodical, take the necessary time to gather all the relevant facts so they wouldn’t go charging off in the wrong direction, but her nerves shouted at her to hurry. Precious minutes and seconds were slipping away, and the probability of bringing Hope back alive was slipping away with them.
“No, we haven’t had a chance to speak yet, but I just talked to Sage Parker, the children’s nanny,” Jankowski said from behind her, making her jump. He must have come down the carpeted stairs.
So much for my cat-like instincts, Nessa thought as she turned to stare up at him.
“Let’s go in the kitchen and talk in private with Ms. Winthrop,” Nessa said, looking at Devon with concern. “Officer Fordham, can you be sure to watch over Devon while we’re talking?”
“Sure,” Fordham said, summoning a friendly smile for the boy. “We’ll be fine.”
But Devon didn’t look fine. He kept his eyes cast downward, looking at the floor and rocking back and forth. Duke sat next to him, the big golden retriever a familiar presence that should provide comfort, but the boy seemed oblivious to anything around him.
Nessa was worried Devon may be permanently traumatized, but there was little she could do to comfort him now. The best thing for him was to get his sister back. That had to be her only focus.
“Andy, make sure you watch out for the nanny, too. She’s still upstairs and is pretty upset,” Jankowski ordered.
Then Nessa heard him say something in a low voice. “And don’t let her go anywhere. Whatever happens, don’t let her leave.”
Nessa raised her eyebrows as they walked toward the kitchen behind Eden. “What was that all about?”
Jankowski leaned so close she could smell his musky cologne. “The nanny can’t remember much, but what she does remember just doesn’t add up. There’s something about her story that bothers me.”
Nessa frowned back at him, wanting to ask more, but deciding she needed to give her full attention to Eden for the time being. They needed to tell her about the second body that had been found that morning before she saw it on the news.
Leo Steele was sitting at the table with a notepad and pencil. He had been making notes and looked impatient as the detectives followed Eden into the room.
“We need to figure out where they may be taking her,” Leo said, tearing the top sheet of paper off his notebook and crumpling it into a ball.
Jankowski put up his hand in a placating gesture. “Hold on now, Leo. I know you’re anxious to find out who killed Jessica Carmichael, but we can’t jump to conclusions. We can’t assume the men who took Hope had anything to do with Jessica’s murder.”
“Of course, they’re related,” Leo fumed. “Eden reports that Jessica’s friend is missing, and she tries to identify Jessica’s body, and then her own niece is kidnapped days later? Do you seriously expect me to believe it’s just coincidental timing?”
Jankowski looked ready to fire back at Leo, but Nessa stepped between the two men and raised her voice. “A fifteen-year-old girl is missing and needs our help. So, just stop the macho bullshit!”
She looked Eden in the eyes, making sure she had her attention. “Before we go on we need to give you an update. You see, the body of another teenage girl was found in the Diablo River this morning. She’d been strangled.”
Eden gasped and sank into the chair next to Leo. Nessa could see the horror dawn on Eden’s face as she realized what this might mean.
“Did the same person who killed Jessica kill this other girl?” Eden asked, her voice strained. “Is this the work of some kind of serial killer?”
Nessa nodded. “There are similarities that make us think the homicides are most likely the work of the same perpetrator. Both girls were strangled and left in or by the river. Both girls had visible signs of drug use.”
Jankowski cleared his throat and loosened his tie. “The story on the latest river girl just broke on the news. And, well, some of the gorier details have been leaked.”
“What do you mean?” Leo asked.
“An alligator got to the poor girl before we did.” Nessa decided to just say what needed to be said and get it over with. “The gator was swimming around with the girl’s arm in his mouth. A woman walking her dogs saw and called it in."
Nessa could see the panic rising in Eden’s eyes. Her chest was heaving in and out, and Leo put his arm around her.
“Eden, just breathe,” Leo said, immediately coaching the distressed woman as if they were in a Lamaze class. “Try not to think about anything. Just concentrate on breathing.”
“I’m okay,” Eden said, shrugging off Leo’s arm, but her breathing was still heavy, and her eyes were wet. She turned to Nessa.
“Do you think Hope’s kidnapping is related to these murders, and to Star’s disappearance? Is that why you’re telling me this now?’
“We can’t be sure, yet,” Nessa said. “We need to find out more…but, we do need to consider the possibility.”
“The victim found today has already been identified through fingerprints. She had an arrest record for drug possession.” Nessa hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t be sharing this type of confidential information with a civilian. “We can’t release her name yet pending notification of her next of kin.”
“Let me guess,” Eden said, her voice thick. “Was the girl’s name Brandi?”
Nessa and Jankowski stared at each other in shock.
“Why would you say that?” Jankowski demanded. “What do you know about the girl in the river?”
“I know that a girl named Brandi went missing from Clear Horizons, the same place that Star was staying before she came to Mercy Harbor asking for help,” Eden said, raising her chin to glare at Jankowski.
“And I know that Star’s real name is Stacey Moore, and that she was friends with Jessica Carmichael before she disappeared.”
“We sent officers to check out Clear Horizons earlier today based on the tip we got from Leo yesterday,” Jankowski said, frowning down at Eden. “I haven’t had a chance to review the report yet.”
“Well, I went by there today and one of the neighbors said that the assistant manager, Trevor Bane, likes to hang out with the young female residents. The neighbor claims that Trevor singled out Star, or Stacey as he called her, before she suddenly moved out. He said another girl named Brandi had gone missing as well.”
“So, who is this neighbor that knows so much?” Jankowski asked, “We can send someone over to interview him right away.”
“His name is Charles. I don’t remember his last name.”
“Wyatt,” Leo muttered. “His name is Charles Wyatt.”
Jankowski narrowed his eyes. “Have you talked to this guy, too?”
“I met him the other day,” Leo admitted. “Seemed like he had some anger issues.”
“What’s his address?” Jankowski was typing in a message on his phone as he spoke.
“I don’t know.” Eden clasped her hands together in her lap. “He just said he lived near Clear Horizons. That he’d gone to school with Trevor. Oh, and he said they both had gone to school with Tiffany Clarke.”
Nessa’s heart jumped at the words. Could they finally have found a solid connection between the Clarke case and the new murders?
“We need a description of this man right away,” Nessa said, trying to keep her voice even. “We’ll send Ingram and Ortiz over to talk to Trevor Bane and to find out more about Charles.”
Eden’s voice trembled as she gave Jankowski a description of the big man she’d seen in the park. She then crossed to the counter and pulled out a sheet of paper from her purse.
“This is the information I found out about Star. Her real name’s Stacey Moore, and she
stayed with her mother and little brother at one of our shelters two years ago.”
Eden took a deep breath as she handed the paper to Nessa. “Their new address is in there. Please keep the information confidential. As you’ll see, the family was trying to escape the mother’s ex-boyfriend. A real lowlife named Buddy Jones. He may still be trying to track them down.”
Nessa remembered the call she’d gotten earlier from the crime lab.
“The techs checked those shoes you turned in. The ones Star was wearing. A common GPS tracking device had been tucked into the lining. The techs are going to see if they can trace the source, but it’s doubtful.”
Eden exhaled a tortured moan. “That must be how these guys found out where Star had gone. It must be how they found me. They must have followed me home, must have seen Hope.”
Nessa strained to make sense of it all. She needed to think fast and figure out what was going on before another girl ended up dead.
Her eyes rested on a picture of Hope displayed on the refrigerator. It showed a strikingly pretty young girl holding up an honor roll ribbon. An image flashed into her mind of the photo taped to the whiteboard next to the other pictures in the River Girl’s Investigation room.
Her stomach lurched, and she had to fight off a wave of nausea. She couldn’t let another young girl die. She couldn’t tape yet another picture on that white board. She had to piece together the information in time to save Hope.
✽ ✽ ✽
After Leo had followed Eden back into the living room to check on Devon, Jankowski took out his cell phone and called Ingram.
“I hear you guys got called out. What’s the status?” Ingram asked, his voice tense.
“A fifteen-year-old female was abducted from her house at gunpoint. We’re still at the scene. Based on what we’ve uncovered so far, we figure the abduction might be linked to the River Girls Investigation.”
Jankowski filled Ingram in on their suspicions, and they agreed that Ingram and Ortiz would track down Trevor Bane and bring him in for formal questioning. They would also attempt to locate Charles Wyatt and get a statement.
“Hey man, before you go, can you do me a favor?” Jankowski asked. By the time he turned back to Nessa he’d gotten Ingram to run initial checks on Buddy Jones and Trevor Bane.
“Ingram verified the information Eden Winthrop gave us,” he said, jotting some notes on a small pad of paper. “Buddy Jones was sentenced to two years for domestic battery, aggravated assault and violation of a restraining order. Victim was one Trisha Moore.”
“He get out recently?” Nessa asked.
“He was released over a year ago, but he’s still on probation.” Jankowski checked his notes. “According to the latest probation report, he’s unemployed and lives with his brother in a trailer park off Good Shephard Highway.”
Nessa looked at the paper that Eden had handed her. She studied Trisha Moore’s name and address.
Is this where Stacey Moore has been these last few days? Did she run back home after dumping the tracker on her shoes? Or is she already dead and waiting for us to find her in the river? Nessa knew there was only one way to find out.
“Jankowski, why don’t you drive over to Trisha Moore’s place? See if she’s heard from Stacey. She may not even know the girl moved out of Clear Horizons. If that doesn’t lead to anything, you can go by and see what Buddy Jones has been up to.”
“I should stay here and try to get more information out of Sage Parker or Devon,” Jankowski said. “They’re the best leads we have. They have to be able to provide something more useful.”
“You go and try to find Star. Let me see if I can get more information from Sage.” Nessa hoped the young nanny would be more comfortable talking to a woman.
Jankowski could be intimidating when he questioned witnesses, and Nessa liked to use a gentler approach. Did that make them the stereotypical good cop, bad cop team?
“Okay, then, I’ll go by Trisha Moore’s first,” Jankowski agreed.
“You shouldn’t go on your own,” Nessa said, standing up. “There’s been too many dead bodies and people running around with guns in Willow Bay lately for you to be out there on your own. Call Reinhardt and see if he’ll back you up.”
Jankowski seemed ready to object, but Nessa raised her hand. “Don’t bother arguing. I’m heading up this investigation and I can’t let you go on your own. Reinhardt’s the only other detective that knows what’s going on, and Chief Kramer already gave the okay for him to work with us.”
“Fine,” Jankowski said, gathering his notepad, papers, and pen and stuffing everything into his black leather backpack. “I’ll call Reinhardt on the way back to the station. I’ll ask him to meet me there.”
Nessa watched the paper with Trisha Moore’s address on it disappear into Jankowski’s bag. She felt a pang of worry.
“Oh, and Jankowski? Remember not to give the Moore’s address to anyone. Trisha Moore is most likely still in hiding from Buddy Jones. And make sure you tell Reinhardt to keep it under wraps, too.”
“Yes, boss,” Jankowski shot back with more than a little sarcasm as he opened the back door. “Whatever you say.”
Nessa watched the door close behind him, a frown marring her forehead. She thought again about Jankowski’s reaction to working with Reinhardt. She knew the older detective wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs, but he seemed competent. So, what was Jankowski’s problem? With two new murders, an abduction, and a missing girl, they didn’t have time for internal politics.
See why I need you back here, Barker, she thought, knowing even as she did, that her old partner may not ever come back.
A wave of loneliness washed over her, and she thought of Jerry and the boys at home, probably having dinner by now. She picked up the phone and waited for the voice that always seemed to calm her down, no matter how bad things got.
“You holding up, babe?” Jerry asked, sounding concerned. “I’ve seen the news, about the second girl found in the river. It’s horrible.”
“Yeah, it’s bad.” Nessa felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked hard and cleared her throat. “The day has been a nightmare, and I’m not sure when it’ll be over. You go ahead and give the boys a goodnight kiss from me. And, Jerry? Don’t wait up. It’s gonna be a late night.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Reggie’s Mini-Cooper slid to a stop inches from the black and white police cruiser blocking Eden Winthrop’s driveway. Flashing blue lights illuminated a torrent of raindrops spewing from the cloud-darkened sky.
Reggie stepped out of the car, popped open a bright red umbrella to shield her silk dress, and refused to think about the damage the relentless downpour would cause to her eye-wateringly expensive pumps.
Eden needs me, she told herself, wincing as she stepped into a puddle. Shoes are replaceable - friends are not.
“I’m Reggie…” she started to say to a young police officer standing beside the cruiser. Then she paused; the jarring site of the yellow crime scene tape along Eden’s front walk had taken her breath away. The whole scene felt surreal, like she’d walked onto the set of a horror movie.
The officer stared at her with raised eyebrows. After an awkward silence Reggie regained her composure.
“Um, sorry. I’m Dr. Reggie Horn and Eden Winthrop is expecting me.”
“Oh, yes, Dr. Horn. Detective Ainsley told me you’d be coming. Follow me.”
The officer turned and led Reggie around the side of the house. She followed muddy shoe prints onto the back deck and into the kitchen.
As Reggie entered through the back door, Eden was talking in hushed tones to a woman in a wrinkled black suit. The woman’s disheveled auburn curls and short, softly rounded frame contrasted sharply with Eden’s golden hair and tall, striking figure.
Earth mother meets Greek goddess, Reggie thought distractedly as she approached the women, not wanting to interrupt, but anxious to let Eden know she was there.
“The crime scene technicians will
be working for a few more hours I’m sure,” Nessa said to Eden as Reggie approached.
“They are searching inch by inch to try and find any trace evidence the abductors may have left behind in the house, and they’ll be searching the immediate vicinity of the neighborhood as well.”
Reggie met Eden’s eyes over the woman’s shoulder.
“Reggie, what am I going to do?” Eden cried out as Reggie hurried to wrap her arms around Eden’s trembling shoulders. “Hope is gone, Reggie. They took her.”
“I know, honey, I know,” Reggie soothed as she patted Eden’s back. “But we’re gonna find her and bring her home. She’s gonna be fine.”
Reggie turned her eyes toward the woman in the wrinkled black suit. “Are you with the police?”
“Yes, I’m Detective Ainsley.” Nessa held out a firm hand, but her voice revealed fatigue. “You can call me Nessa.”
“And I’m Dr. Horn, but please call me Reggie.” She felt a flash of sympathy for the disheveled detective as she took the offered hand.
The woman looked drained, and Reggie wondered how she coped with such a stressful job. Did the responsibilities listed in her job description include finding missing children and hunting down killers? She imagined that very few people would be willing to take on the life-and-death role.
“I was just telling Eden she should take Devon to stay somewhere else for the night. Our crime scene techs are still working, and the poor boy looks knackered.” Nessa met her eyes, and her worried expression scared Reggie.
“Is Devon okay? Can I see him?” Reggie asked, moving toward the living room.
“Oh Reggie, he won’t say a word,” Eden said as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what to say to him. What can I tell him?”
“Let’s take him to my house and see if, away from all this, he’ll talk to me,” Reggie said.
She’d counseled both Hope and Devon in the year following their parents’ deaths, and she’d come to know them and love them. So much so that when Eden had requested that Reggie become the children’s guardian in the event of Eden’s death, Reggie had instantly agreed.
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