Abduction

by Wanda Dyson

  Zoe stopped in front of a shoe store and eyed a pair of strappy sandals. They’d go perfectly with that blue skirt her mother had given her for her birthday.

  Determined to buy them, she went inside the store and looked around for a salesperson. She found two over by the children’s shoes, chatting away.

  “And I’m telling you they’re all fakes!” one said passionately as she straightened a display.

  “They are not! I went to a psychic once and she told me all kinds of things she couldn’t possibly have known. She wasn’t a fake.”

  The first girl sniffed in derision. “Bull. She told you what you wanted to hear. They just give you generalizations that anyone could twist to match their own circumstances.”

  “Well, what about that psychic the police have called in to help them! She’s supposed to be pretty good.”

  “Hah! She hasn’t done squat, has she? You are so gullible sometimes, Trish. Has she found any of those missing children? No. And has she been able to tell the police anything about the killer? No. And has she ever found a single child before they were killed? No. So what good is she? A cadaver dog could do what she does.”

  Zoe flushed hot as she backed away from the girls and slipped out of the store. The girl’s words stung. A cadaver dog could do what she does.

  She drove home with the words still ringing in her ears. A light changed from green to yellow and Zoe slowed, easing to a stop as it turned red. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she glanced to her right.

  It was a billboard. And the message sent a cold shiver down her back.

  I’m talking to you. Love, God.

  #

  That night, Matt Casto chewed without tasting what he was eating. All he could think about was that poor mother collapsed on the grocery store floor, sobbing as she clung to JJ’s shirt, begging them to find her little girl.

  Emily Terrance.

  The scumbag had taken her out of the grocery store without anyone noticing. He glanced at his watch. More than twenty-four hours had passed, and they still didn’t have one clue as to the child’s whereabouts.

  “Matt?”

  The security tapes had been no help at all. The cheap cameras were set too far away to get a clear look at anyone’s face. They were clearly installed to intimidate shoplifters, not identify kidnappers. Once again, the kidnapper had been one step ahead of them. He’d gone out the back door with the child, making sure nothing would be caught on tape.

  “Matt, are you listening to me?”

  Matt started, nearly tipping over his glass and spilling his iced tea. He grabbed it, steadied it, and stared sheepishly at Paula. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about that little girl.”

  Paula tilted her head. “Maybe we should have just canceled tonight. Your mind is definitely not on dinner and a movie.”

  Shaking his head, he pushed his marinated chicken around on his plate. “I wanted to be here. Get my mind off the case for a few hours. Clear my head a little.”

  “But it’s not working.”

  “I know.” Matt looked up, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Paula reached across the table and stroked his hand. “What you do is important, Matt. Don’t apologize for being good at it.”

  Tension flowed out of him as her fingers stroked, her eyes forgave, and her smile warmed. Yesterday he and JJ had gone up and down every aisle on what they knew was a fool’s journey: to find evidence. They’d spent hours talking with store employees, customers, and the mother.

  They had gone over security tapes and witness statements in between fielding calls from concerned or outraged citizens and the press.

  By the time he’d pulled up in front of Paula’s apartment, he felt as wired as a druggie on a bad high.

  “Three little girls, Paula. And we don’t have a single lead to go on.”

  “What about that psychic? Has she been any help?”

  Matt shook his head as he toyed a little more with his food. “Not really. Besides, JJ doesn’t believe in her or her so-called powers, so he’s not giving her as much access to everything as Harris told him to.”

  “Won’t Harris find out? He might talk to this woman and then JJ could be in trouble.”

  “Harris hasn’t even met Miss Shefford. I think he’s afraid to. No, he won’t talk to her and find out anything. He’s leaving it all to JJ to handle. In the meantime, we’re getting nowhere on the Matthews case either.”

  “The missing baby?”

  “Yeah.” Matt speared a green bean and stared at it. “JJ still thinks the parents were involved, but we’ve got nothing so far to prove they were.”

  “Do you think they were? The parents? Do you really think they killed their own baby?”

  He looked over at Paula. “Honestly? I’m not sure. The Matthews woman has me confused. On the surface, she appears to be devastated to have her child missing. On the other hand, something isn’t quite right about her—like her circuits aren’t all wired with solid connections.”

  “So you think she may be capable of. . .what. . .killing her baby by accident and then crying wolf?”

  “Maybe.” He rubbed his chin. “I can’t quite get a handle on this one, Paula, and it’s driving me a bit nuts.”

  “Hey! Look who’s here!” Matt’s cousin Pete Gribbon leaned down and kissed Paula on the cheek. She smiled up at him.

  “Hey, Pete. How’s Ginny?”

  “She’s fine. Took the boys to visit her mom for a few days, so I’m reduced to take-out or eat-out.”

  “Have a seat,” Matt told him. “Eat with us.”

  “You sure?” Pete pulled out a chair but hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude. You two looked pretty intense. I’m not interrupting something, am I? You know. . .wedding plans, stuff like that?”

  Paula rolled her eyes and then pointed to the chair. “Sit, and bite your tongue. We were just talking about the little girls who are being kidnapped.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The grin disappeared as he shook his head. “I’ve been hearing about that on the news.” He pulled up a chair to the table and waved down a waiter. “There’s two missing, right?”

  “Three. We had another one disappear yesterday.”

  “Ouch. I didn’t even realize you were on that case.” Pete leaned back as the waiter appeared at his side. “I’ll have whatever they’re having and iced tea.”

  “Marinated chicken over wild rice with. . .”

  Pete waved his hand, cutting the waiter off. “That’s fine. I’m not hard to please.”

  “Yes, sir.” The waiter moved away.

  Pete propped his elbows on the table and looked over at Matt. “You’re on this special task force they’ve been talking about?”

  Matt nodded. In spite of JJ’s intense dislike of Pete, Matt found that except for occasionally saying tactless things at the wrong time, he was a good man. He was a loving husband, a good father, and a good friend. When Matt moved into his new apartment, Pete was there that morning with a borrowed truck to help with the move. Pete loved to harass JJ though; that was certain. The two had never hit it off and probably never would.

  “Matt? Pete asked you about the task force.” Paula shrugged at Pete. “He’s been like this all night. Don’t mind him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Matt replied sheepishly. “Just thinking. Uh, yeah, I’m on the task force.”

  “Any leads yet?”

  Matt shook his head. “Nope.”

  Pete leaned over and placed his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Hang in there, pal. You’re a good detective. You’ll catch the guy.”

  “I hope so, and I hope we do it soon.”

  “I’m sure you will. In the meantime,” Pete turned his attention to Paula, “how are you holding up with all this?”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Doesn’t make it easy though.”

  “What are you talking about?” Matt sat there, empty fork in hand, and stared at his cousin.

  “Oh, come on, Matt. W
e all know how you neglect Paula when you’re chin-high in some case. It’s gotta be lonely for her.”

  “I’m fine,” Paula insisted.

  “She’s fine,” Matt parroted. “And I don’t neglect her.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Do I neglect you?” Matt turned to Paula and watched as she dropped her eyes. “You think I neglect you?”

  “Could we not discuss this here and now?” Paula whispered tightly across the table.

  “I just want to know if you think I neglect you.”

  “No. I don’t. Okay? Now, can we drop it?”

  “Fine. Consider it dropped.” He jabbed angrily at a piece of chicken and shoved it in his mouth. He didn’t neglect her. Okay, maybe he only managed to squeeze in an hour or two a week to see her, but he called every couple of days, didn’t he? He was on a case, for crying out loud. She knew how it was.

  #

  JJ unlocked the front door to the townhouse he rented and stepped inside. Tossing his jacket over a sofa chair, he immediately went into the kitchen, flipped on a light, and opened the back door. A large golden retriever came bounding in, jumping up on him. “Hey, Zip, miss me?”

  The dog let out one sharp and very loud bark. JJ laughed and pushed the dog down. “Ready for dinner?” He reached out on the deck and brought in Zip’s water bowl.

  Zip stayed on JJ’s heels while he changed the water in the water bowl and filled the food bowl. Then he settled down to eat while JJ went through his mail and fished through the refrigerator for something to make for dinner. He decided to broil a steak, throw together a salad, and toss a potato in the microwave.

  While dinner was cooking, JJ changed into a pair of sweats. Treading barefoot through the house, he fed the fish in his aquarium, watered the plants in the living room, and checked on the steak.

  It had been the day from hell. He’d thought it was rough after Gina Sarentino and Jessica Matthews had disappeared, but he’d found out that was nothing compared to the eruption after Emily Terrance was taken. Harris could be heard screaming from one end of the station house to the other. The mayor was out to roll a few heads—and careers with them. The press was screaming. Civic-minded citizens were up in arms.

  And he had nothing to tell any of them.

  That thought had him pushing away his half-eaten plate in disgust and frustration. Zip was thrilled, of course. Half a sirloin steak ended up in his bowl.

  After tossing the dishes in the dishwasher, JJ headed for his den. He turned on the radio to a classical station and settled down in front of his computer to do some work.

  So far there had been no leads on the whereabouts of Nancy Darrington—or whatever name she was going by this week. Gerry Otis had obtained a photograph from John Darrington and sent it out to all the police stations not only in this state but in the four surrounding states as well.

  They hadn’t heard a word yet.

  Then there were the three little girls. JJ looked down at the pictures again, although he didn’t need to. He could see them in his dreams. The killer had been slick. And elusive. No fingerprints, no fluids, no trace of him at all. Nothing.

  Leaning back, JJ rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. This was going nowhere fast. All he could hope was that his call to Quantico might provide some answers. Or at least some help. The profiler, a man by the name of Adam Zahn, had been with the Child Abduction Serial Killer Unit for over twelve years. He was supposed to be one of the best. CASKU had merged with Investigation Support at the FBI headquarters in Quantico and was now known as the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime. He didn’t care what name they had on the door. He just needed someone who understood the mind of a kidnapper and could help find him. And bring him to justice.

  He was certain the Matthews case was different. And he was sure Karen Matthews had something to do with the missing child. He no longer had any hope that Jessica Matthews was still alive. The way he figured it, Karen had killed the child—either intentionally or by accident—and was covering up the crime by screaming abduction. Was her husband in on it? Was he protecting his wife? Maybe.

  JJ leaned back in his chair and propped his legs up on the corner of the desk. The man was obviously protective of her and had implied, ever so subtly, that she wasn’t particularly stable. Yet was Ted Matthews protecting whom he believed was his innocent wife, or was he tossing out a smoke screen to deflect the investigation from looking at her too closely?

  He didn’t want to think of Zoe at all. There was no doubt that Harris was going to be all over him to call her again about Emily Terrance, but JJ was inclined to wait until he had no choice. The last thing he wanted was that little witch digging at him again.

  His fist scraped across his chest as if he could still feel the pain of her words lashing out at him. “Your father was right about you!”

  chapter 9

  Saturday, April 15

  JJ woke up with a throbbing headache and temper to match. Rather than driving to the station after showering and dressing, he drove straight to the Matthews’ house and caught Mrs. Matthews washing the breakfast dishes. Her husband, she explained, had already left to help some friends for the day. The conversation went downhill quickly. As soon as he started playing hardball, Karen withered into a worthless puddle of whining.

  “But Alice wouldn’t do such a thing.” Karen wrung her hands, which only fueled JJ’s temper. Why couldn’t the woman just stand up and answer the questions without all these oh-poor-pitiful-me games?

  “There is no Alice Denton! She didn’t have children. And she uses at least three aliases that we’ve been able to come up with so far. If one of the aliases is her real name, she was married and left her husband almost a year ago. He’s been looking for her.”

  “I didn’t know. I swear. She seemed so nice, and she was so good with Jessica. I just didn’t think to check her references.”

  “You place your child in the care of a woman you don’t know just because you think she seems nice? No wonder your baby is missing.”

  “That’s not fair!” Karen took a step backward.

  It wasn’t and he knew it, but this case was driving him crazy. He had never seen such ineptitude in his life. “You never thought it strange that she would only take her pay in cash? No checks?”

  Karen shook her head. “She said she preferred cash. I didn’t see any crime in that.”

  “What reason did she give you for leaving?”

  “She said that she had a family problem and couldn’t work for me anymore. She even cried when she told me. She was so upset to have to leave us.”

  “Right,” JJ snapped caustically. “Well, what about her car? Did you ever see it?”

  Karen shook her head again. “No. She said she didn’t have one. I think she took the bus.”

  “She owns a fairly new burgundy Chrysler Concorde.”

  Karen stared down at her hands. “I can’t believe she lied like that. I thought she was so nice.”

  JJ ignored her comment. He was afraid that if he responded she would sue him for attacking her. “What was she like with Jessica?”

  “Oh, she adored Jessica.”

  JJ made a face as he continued to make notes. “Think back. Can you recall her ever talking about where she’d come from or someplace she always wanted to go? Anything that might give us a handle on where she might be headed?”

  Karen thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. She didn’t talk about other places. I assumed she was local and always had been.”

  She wiped new tears. “I can’t believe this. She was so good with Jessica. And she was always talking about her little boy. I think his name was Johnny.”

  Johnny. As in John Darrington. He hadn’t thought to ask if they’d had a child together. Something else to check out. This water was getting muddier and muddier. In the meantime, he had to get back to the station. With any luck, he might hear from the profiler in Virginia. At least the aspirin had started to kick in and dissipate th
e headache.

  #

  Most Saturday afternoons, Jan Alberry would be getting her hair cut or her nails done or cleaning her house and doing laundry—catching up on everything she didn’t have time to do during the week while she was chasing the news.

  But on this particular Saturday afternoon, she had her face buried in copies of old newspaper stories scattered across her desk. After nearly a week of research, she was finally hitting pay dirt. One old clipping in particular had her foot tapping beneath her desk.

  Local Girl Disappears—Community Locking Their Doors

  Ten-year-old Amy Marie Shefford disappeared yesterday after walking home from school with her twin sister, Zoe. “She was right behind me,” cried the distraught blond-haired child. “When she didn’t come in the house, I looked and looked for her but she was gone.”

  State police were called in by Police Commissioner Thomas Ryder when an extensive search of the neighborhood proved fruitless.

  Jan flopped back in her chair, blowing out a heavy breath. “So the woman has a history after all.”

  “What did you say?” Lois Pollack looked up from her desk where she was working on recipes for the Sunday edition.

  “Did you hear about that psychic the police brought in to help with the missing children?”

  “Sure.” Lois shrugged. “Who hasn’t?”

  “Well, I just found out that the woman had a twin sister, and when they were ten, the sister was kidnapped and killed.”

  “Whoa.” Lois stared, her eyes wide with amazement. “No kidding?”

  Jan picked up the clipping. “Her sister disappears and is never found, and now she’s devoted her life to finding missing children. I wonder if she’s still looking for Amy.”

  “Huh?”

  Jan shook her head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

  She set the story aside and began searching through the rest, setting the articles in chronological order. She was on to something. She just knew it. Amy Shefford had disappeared in 1983. Then there was nothing more in the news for almost ten years. In 1992 Zoe Shefford made the news again when she found a missing boy down by the lake after he’d wandered off from his parents. He’d been seriously injured in a fall, and if Zoe hadn’t found him when she did, he’d have died. The parents touted her as a hero. There was a picture of the mayor shaking her hand.