Abduction

by Wanda Dyson

  Nora checked the straps to make sure Kaitlyn was secure. She wasn’t afraid of Kaitlyn falling out. She was afraid of someone walking by and snatching her away.

  Every mother she knew was keeping an eagle eye on her children. You rarely saw a lone child playing on the quiet streets anymore. Not like before. Before the abduction stories hit the airwaves. Now if you saw children on bicycles, skateboards, or roller skates, you were certain to find a parent or two nearby.

  No one sent a child across the street to borrow a cup of sugar or to see if Johnny could come over and play. Play dates were arranged by phone and carried out with adult supervision.

  Even the malls were strangely void of little feet and giggles. Mothers left their children with trusted friends while they ran to the mall.

  The world had changed.

  Nora pulled her cart up to the register and smiled at the cashier. While the cashier scanned the groceries, Nora noticed a poster taped to the front of the nearby ATM unit.

  Missing. Jessica Matthews. Born October 15. Brown hair. Small birthmark on cheek.

  Below the contact information was a full-page color photograph of the missing baby. Nora stared at it, wondering how in the world this child’s mother was coping. She couldn’t begin to imagine. She reached out and traced a finger over the picture, something stirring in her heart.

  “Sad, isn’t it?”

  Nora looked up at the cashier with a nod. “Yes, it is. I can’t believe how bad this world has gotten.”

  “I know. When we were kids, we roamed the streets. No one worried. There was no danger.”

  “I remember. Days of innocence.”

  “Yeah.”

  Nora studied the picture again and then felt her heart lurch. She knew where she had seen this child before!

  “Do you have an extra one of these fliers?”

  The cashier nodded. “Stack of them at the customer service desk on your way out. That’ll be $64.83.”

  Nora paid the cashier then pushed her cart to the customer ser-vice desk. She grabbed a couple of fliers, folded them, and shoved them in her purse.

  Every time she’d seen a picture of Jessica Matthews, something seemed familiar. But it wasn’t until she saw the big color photo that it had come to her. She knew where Jessica Matthews was.

  Nora hurried out of the store. She had to talk to her husband right away. Kaitlyn tossed her plush puppy into the air and watched it land inside the grocery cart. Nora stopped and retrieved it, handing it back to the child. “Let’s go, sweetheart. It’s time to go home.”

  #

  “Paula?”

  Paula looked up from her computer to see the receptionist standing in front of her with a huge vase of roses. At least two dozen red and pink roses. “For me?”

  “That’s what the card says.”

  “Wow.” Paula took the vase and lowered it to her desk.

  “Wish someone loved me that much,” the receptionist said wistfully before walking away.

  Paula pulled the card out of its holder and opened the envelope.

  Okay. I’m a jerk. I’m sorrier than I can say. I love you. Will you marry me?

  Matt

  Paula felt tears spring to her eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered softly. “But I can’t let you know that yet. You’ll have to do better than this.”

  #

  Zoe stood at the window, staring across the front yard, while behind her, her father and FBI agent Vince Larson hooted and cheered at a football game on television.

  It had been almost three days since she’d heard from the killer. He was playing with her and she knew it. He wanted to keep her on edge, never knowing when or where he might strike. And it was working. Her nerves were as tight as violin strings.

  She was surprised, and perhaps a little disappointed, when the FBI descended. She had gotten used to having JJ as her defender. Maybe he was a reluctant defender, but she had begun to trust him. She should have realized that once the FBI moved in, JJ would be shuffled to an assisting role. This was their area of expertise. It was logical for them to head up the investigation. Still, she missed taunting JJ and watching him do a slow burn.

  Eyeing the men who were engrossed in the game, Zoe slipped out the front door. She hadn’t been outside in almost twenty-four hours and needed to feel the sun on her face. Needed to feel the breeze through her hair.

  Needed to feel. . .

  “Excuse me. Miss Shefford, isn’t it?”

  Zoe jumped.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jack Fleming. FBI. I’d like to talk to you.”

  That’s when she saw JJ climb out of the car. He appeared tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was tight with fatigue. Zoe looked back at the agent and smiled. “Of course. Come on in.”

  As soon as they came through the door, Special Agent Larson sprang to his feet, his face white. “Sir.”

  “Is this how we protect someone, Larson? Watching football while the protectee saunters outside in plain sight? Last time I checked, there was a direct threat against this young lady’s life. Or has that been resolved and someone forgot to inform me?”

  “No, sir. I mean, I’m sorry, sir. She was just standing right here.”

  “No, she was just standing out front when I got here.”

  Zoe stepped forward, feeling sorry for Larson. “I’m sorry, Agent Fleming. This was my fault. I was feeling cooped up and slipped out when no one was watching.”

  Fleming lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “That is entirely my point, Miss Shefford. You slipped out while no one was watching. And watching is the only reason Agent Larson is here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Zoe almost laughed when she realized how she’d answered him. Instead, she just smiled. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

  Fleming’s mouth twitched. “I’m fine, thank you.” He turned to JJ. “Detective Johnson?”

  JJ shook his head as he stared at Zoe with an unfathomable expression. He could have been staring at a brick wall for all the emotion he showed.

  Zoe looked up at Fleming. “Won’t you have a seat?” She reached out her hand to her father. “This is my father, Keyes Shefford. Dad, this is Agent Fleming and that,” she waved dismissively at JJ, “is Detective Johnson.”

  Agent Fleming took the lead. “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you not only about your impressions of our unsub but also—”

  “I’m sorry. Your what?”

  “Unsub. Sorry. Unknown suspect. It’s just lingo for the man we’re trying to catch.”

  “Ah,” Zoe nodded. “The serial killer.”

  “Yes.” Fleming cleared his throat. “Anyway, I wanted to discuss the possibility of you working with us on this.”

  Zoe shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t have any psychic ability to help you anymore. I’ve renounced it. . .and it’s gone.”

  Fleming looked confused. So did JJ, but she tried to keep her eyes on Fleming. “You see, I became a Christian recently and—”

  “Oh, great.” JJ stood up, rolling his eyes.

  Zoe lifted her chin. “I beg your pardon. Are you talking to me?”

  “I thought you were smarter than that! ‘God forgives all.’ ‘God loves.’ ‘God will send you to hell if you don’t do it His way!’ ” He jammed one hand in his pocket and cocked his knee as he leaned forward a little. “First you’re this superpsychic; now you’re going to be some super-Christian. Ever think of just being yourself instead of exchanging one phony crutch for another?”

  With calm deliberation, Zoe came to her feet. She saw her father start to open his mouth, and she waved him to silence. “He’s mine,” she told her dad in a quiet but firm voice.

  She stepped toward JJ, her eyes focusing in on what almost looked like fear in his eyes. She didn’t need her old abilities to know what was tormenting him. “I don’t need crutches and I don’t need someone to feel responsible for protecting me. I’m not Macy, Josiah. I’m nothing like her and I never was.�
��

  “I never said you were! And this isn’t about Macy! You don’t know anything about her.”

  “You loved her. More than anything in this life, you loved her and someone killed her. And it tore you up because you felt you should have protected her. You felt you had failed because you didn’t keep her safe—because you didn’t take her fears seriously.”

  “That blasted psychic told her that no one was stalking her!” His voice trembled with rage. “Macy threw caution to the wind after that con artist lied to her.”

  They were both heaving with anger, but neither was willing to let it go. It was time for JJ to let it out.

  “Macy threw caution to the wind because she wanted you to think that she was as brave as you were—that she was worthy of your love!” Zoe reached out with both hands and shoved against his chest. He barely moved. “You never let her see your weaknesses, so she didn’t think you had any.”

  “So it’s my fault she was killed? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No! It was never your fault. She built you up in her mind until you were perfect and strong and capable and Superman. Only a very special woman would be worthy of such a man.”

  As sweat began to glisten on his forehead, JJ yanked off his jacket and tossed it angrily to a nearby chair. It slid to the floor. He ignored it as he narrowed in on Zoe. “I never tried to be Superman.”

  “You didn’t have to try, Josiah. You were,” Zoe said, evening her tone. “You simply were. You worked so hard trying to prove you were wonderful because you didn’t believe you were. You didn’t believe your parents loved you. You didn’t believe anyone cared about you.”

  JJ took a step closer to her, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Shut. . .up.”

  “Not this time, JJ.” Zoe straightened and looked into his eyes. “Your father loves you. He thinks you walk on water, just like Macy did. He’s so proud of you that he brags everywhere he goes. But he can’t let you see that because he’s terrified someone as special as you would see him as unworthy. He’s so afraid of losing respect that it’s driven him to blustering arrogance. He hates it. You both hate it. But you have the power to turn it around. It’s enough, Josiah.”

  JJ’s glare was hot enough to make the sun envious. He spun on his heel without another word and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Zoe flinched. Then sighed. “Well, that was fun.”

  #

  Linda Foxwell slid open the glass door and stepped onto her patio. “Pogo! Here, boy!” She whistled loudly and then looked around for her dog. “If you’ve jumped the fence again, I’m going to tie you to a rope!”

  She stepped out to the edge of the patio. “Pogo! Come!”

  Suddenly the black lab came sailing over the back fence from the yard behind. He bounded toward her, tail wagging. “You are so bad! You’re not supposed to go in other people’s yards!”

  Pogo stopped a few feet away, wagging his tail harder, then dropped something from his mouth. Plopping down on his haunches, he stared up at her.

  “What in heaven’s name is that?” Linda stepped closer, bent down, and looked more closely. Then she stiffened.

  And screamed.

  Then fainted.

  #

  Patrolwoman Rachael Carstairs and Kevin Kirkwood answered the emergency call on Nebel Street at 3:27. At 3:29, Kirkwood notified dispatch of the need for backup and the medical examiner’s van. He also notified Tripp in Homicide that he would be needed at the crime scene.

  Lieutenant Tripp was, at that moment, on his way back to the station. He turned his car around and arrived on the scene at 3:51. He found Carstairs at the curb; she looked white, and from the smell of things, she had been sick to her stomach. She lifted her blanched face and pointed to the backyard.

  Stepping over a red plastic Big Wheel, Tripp opened the gate to the backyard and quickly took in the scene. Two patrolmen stood at the rear of the yard talking to the medical examiner. A third officer was on the patio talking to a young couple. A dog was tied up on the patio and looking extremely unhappy about it.

  “Someone called for me?”

  One of the patrolman nodded and pointed to an area on the other side of the fence. Tripp leaned on the fence and looked over. He felt the blood rush to his feet.

  It was a corpse—or what was left of one, anyway—buried in a shallow grave.

  One hand rested on his gun as the other rubbed one of his heavy jowls. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to the question he had to ask, but he asked anyway. “Whose property is that?”

  “Matthews’.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He looked over the fence again. “I think we have probable cause to enter the property, folks. Let’s get this done. I want this whole area taped off back here. No one goes over this fence. We’re going in through the Matthews’ gate.”

  He returned to his car and radioed dispatch while he drove around the block and pulled into the Matthews’ driveway. It took that long for dispatch to patch him through to JJ. “Yeah, Johnson. I’m at the Matthews’ house. We’ve discovered a body behind the shed in the Matthews’ backyard. Any bets it’s our missing husband?”

  Vivian Amato pulled up in her van. Tripp leaned against the front fender while she pulled out her evidence kit and locked the van. “This is going to be a nightmare, Roger. I’m going to have neighbors leaning over that fence down there.”

  Tripp shook his head. “I’m going to have them tape off everything for at least fifty yards in every direction. You’ll have your privacy.”

  “Thanks.”

  The front door of the house opened, and a man stepped out. Tripp eyed him suspiciously. Has the woman replaced her husband already? Or did she already have this one in the wings?

  “What’s going on?” the man asked.

  Tripp strode up the front walk, pulled out his badge, and held it out to Ray. “Tripp. Homicide. Who are you?”

  “Ray Timms. This is my sister’s house.”

  Then Tripp noticed the family resemblance and eased up a little. “Is your sister home, Mr. Timms?”

  “Yes.”

  “A neighbor found something suspicious back behind the shed at the rear of your sister’s property. We need to check it out, if you have no objections.”

  He didn’t really care if Timms objected, but just in case a lawyer decided to try to suppress evidence on an illegal search and seizure, he’d have his backside covered.

  “No. No objections.”

  “Then I’m going to have to ask you and your sister to remain in the house until we figure out exactly what we have. I’ll post an officer on the front porch to ensure no one bothers you.”

  “Bothers us or prevents us from leaving? What is it, exactly, that was supposedly found back there?”

  The man wasn’t stupid. “I can’t say anything more until we check it out more closely. I’m just asking that you remain indoors so as not to contaminate any evidence while we’re working.”

  “Look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I think I need to call my sister’s lawyer first.”

  Tripp took a step forward. Time to play hardball. “You can call anyone you like. We have probable cause to enter the property and we are going to enter the property. Please don’t make things worse for your sister by getting arrested for obstruction of justice or interfering with an investigation in process.”

  #

  Vivian knelt carefully at the edge of the shallow grave and shook her head as she pulled her gloves out of her evidence bag. Nasty piece of work. Time of death was going to be tricky. The body had been burned beyond recognition and looked to have been in the ground anywhere from three to six days. Animals hadn’t helped matters any. She pulled out a small whiskbroom and began to carefully brush away dirt still piled on the body. It was going to a long, tedious process to extract the body and save any evidence.

  “Anything I can help you with, Vivian?”

  Vivian looked up at Tripp and jerked her head back toward
the patio. “On my way down, I passed that barbecue pit. It looks like someone has been burning something besides hamburgers. Have someone tape it off. There might be evidence.”

  “You got it.”

  Two hours later, Vivian and two seasoned officers carefully lifted the body out of the grave and rolled it onto a pristine white sheet. Most of the burn damage had been done to the front of the body, as if someone had laid the body down on the ground, applied an unknown accelerant, and then tossed a match.

  “What’s that?” Tripp asked sharply, pointing to the back of the body.

  Vivian reached down and gently pulled a wallet out of the singed back pants pocket. Carefully she held the wallet with two fingers and let it fall open. “Some of the credit cards appeared to have melted from the heat, but there is a driver’s license.”

  “Name? As if I didn’t already know.”

  Vivian looked up at him. “Edward Matthews.”

  Tripp walked back to the house. He didn’t bother to knock as he entered through the glass sliding doors off the patio. The brother jumped to his feet. His sister was standing at the sink. She turned and looked at Tripp, surprising him with the curiosity he saw in her expression. No fear. Just questions. Somehow that wasn’t what he was expecting.

  “Mrs. Matthews?”

  “Lieutenant.”

  “Do you know what we found back there?”

  She shook her head.

  “Your husband.”

  “My. . .” Her face went white and she looked like she was about to faint. Johnson was right. She’d missed her calling. Hollywood would have loved her. “Ted?”

  “Ma’am, if you’d be kind enough to turn around.”

  “Turn around? Why?”

  “Karen Matthews, I’m arresting you for the murder of Edward Matthews.” He pulled out his handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. . .”