Without a Trace

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “I thought you said it had been a long time since you saw your niece. This picture looks pretty recent. And what happened to your wife’s cheek?”

  Martin looked down at the photo again. “I have no idea what you mean.” Again, his right cheek twitched.

  “Your wife wrote a message to us in her own blood. She was afraid of you…afraid for herself and her daughter.”

  I could feel Cummings staring me down, a silent warning to cool it. Now I was the one flexing my jaw.

  “How convenient that she would write that. Don’t you understand? My wife was mentally ill. She obviously isn’t above telling lies; after all, she did lie to the police about us having a child together. It’s insane!”

  “You’re lying. And everyone in this room knows it…”

  “I’ll talk to you, and you only,” Martin said, shifting his eyes back on Officer Cummings.

  “Why? Because you don’t like women standing up to you?” I jumped up from my seat, ready to hop across the desk and force him to tell me where Nova and Lily were…

  “Only you or I want a lawyer,” Martin said, through clenched teeth. He wouldn’t even look at me now.

  “I’m going,” I said to Officer Cummings. “Going to get busy finding out where Nova and Lily are.”

  Outside the interrogation room, Chad was waiting. He was staring down at his shoes.

  I placed my right cheek to the see-through glass, letting the cool relief rush over my angry, aching face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The Cop

  ELLIE

  Heavy pounding poked my brain like a handful of needles. I sat up in my hotel bed, beer bottles clanking around in the covers beside me.

  “Ugh.” My head was blistery and throbbing from my late-night drinking session and probably from grinding my teeth in my sleep. While Roland and Mike had gone out to dinner, I’d holed up in my hotel room with a six-pack of Corona. Six beers were too much for me.

  I rolled out of bed, knocking bottles on the floor and stumbling toward my overnight bag. “I’m coming, dammit.”

  My visitor banged and banged. “Just a sec!” I shoved myself into a pair of too-tight leggings and a YMCA t-shirt I’d brought along when I’d left for Granton in a hurry. “Who is it?” I asked, sliding the deadbolt from the door.

  Martin Nesbitt had spent last night in jail. That was reason to celebrate, but I couldn’t feel good about this case until Lily and Nova were found. Dead or alive.

  “Good morning,” I grumbled at Chad, who was perky and smiling despite the early morning hour. He had a bag of what appeared to be bagels in the crook of his arm and he thrust a cup of coffee at me.

  “Come in.” I took the coffee and bag from him, then led the way over to the small, lop-sided table in the corner of the hotel room. “This is my desk for the time being,” I joked.

  Chad sat down across from me. He waited until I’d added three packets of sugar to my coffee before he started talking. Immediately, I noticed that his speech was pressured, his eyes bloodshot. He seemed…more excited than usual, like he hadn’t slept all night.

  “What is it?” I asked, sitting my coffee back down on the desk. “Tell me.”

  “I’ve been up all night,” Chad said, confirming my earlier thought. He was gripping the sides of the table, his knuckles turning white. “You’re never going to believe what I found.”

  “Well, enlighten me then,” I gushed. Adrenaline thrummed through my bloodstream. Could he prove Martin was a killer? Did he find out where Lily and Nova might be? I silently hoped.

  “First, I looked at Martin’s cell phone. Clean as a whistle, unless you consider soliciting online prostitutes suspicious.”

  “Why am I not surprised by that?” I picked my coffee back up and took a long sip. It tasted pumpkin-y and I blanched.

  “He never deleted his history or tried to hide anything. If his wife was as paranoid and possessive as he claims, then you’d think he’d try to cover his tracks a little better, right?”

  “Where was he soliciting them from?” I asked.

  “An online website. Girls post pics of themselves, along with prices and either phone numbers or email addresses.”

  “How sad,” I said, forcing down another sip of the spicy coffee. “So, he’s a douche bag who cheats on his wife with prostitutes. That still won’t help us find Lily and Nova though, Chad.”

  “Well, I haven’t told you about Nova’s phone yet,” Chad said, scooting his chair up closer to the table. His eyes were round and bright, like two shiny pennies.

  He cleared his throat. “Nova didn’t have access to the internet, apparently. There was no internet set up in their apartment building. Yes, we found a wireless router when we searched. But it wasn’t hooked up. Martin was using the internet provided by his cell phone provider. He apparently had some sort of parental controls set up on Nova’s phone.”

  “That’s disgusting,” I hissed, pushing the coffee away for good this time. “And proves he was controlling and abusive…”

  “Now here’s the really interesting thing.”

  My throbbing head was buzzing with excitement now. “What is it?”

  “Besides the normal apps that come on your phone, like weather, calendar, calculator, etcetera, she had only one app that had been manually downloaded. This knitting application, like an online club where you have access to patterns and knitting videos and shit,” Chad said, excitedly.

  “Sounds like a lot of fun,” I said, flatly.

  “Nova spent a lot of time on it. And when I say a lot of time, I mean a hell of a lot of time. Like sometimes eight hours a day, or more.”

  “Wow. I didn’t see any knitting stuff in the apartment, did you? I mean, maybe a blanket or her bed pillows, but if she was knitting that much, that obsessed with it, you’d expect to see all kinds of knitted items around the apartment,” I mused. “But you did say she had those markings on her teeth, so that part matches up.”

  “But what if the site wasn’t for knitting? What if it was for something else?” Chad said, bubbling over with anticipation.

  My eyes widened. “Like what?”

  “It took all night, and a lot of favors from my hacker buddy in Chicago, but I got in. I can’t see all the messages she sent yet, but I do know that she spent all her time talking to another user named Al. It’s an online shelter, Ellie, for victims who can’t or won’t go to a real one. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

  “You think she’s with this Al person, hiding out somewhere?” I asked. I stood up and started pacing. I thought about the mysterious truck parked at Widow’s Curve. Could it belong to Al?

  “It’s very possible,” Chad said, nodding vigorously.

  He pushed Nova’s cell phone across the desk. The site looked like a normal knitting site, at first glance. But it was so much more…

  “And this is the person she’s been talking to, non-stop.” I stared at Al’s profile. There was nothing in the profile that could help track this person down: no photos, no name or address…

  “The internet service provider is Banshee. I can see it here,” I said, tapping the ISP at the bottom of the browser.

  “But how can we figure out who this user is in real life? We could send a message, but then, it might scare them off,” Chad pondered.

  “Well, we could get a warrant, subpoena Banshee…they have to tell us the IP address. And if we have the IP address, we can trace the physical address…maybe this Al knows where Nova is…”

  Chad groaned. “Yeah, but how long will it take to get a warrant?”

  “Too long. At least a few days …” I mulled. “But maybe…why don’t we just go down there? I’m sure there’s a Banshee hub around here.” I used my own phone to search Google.

  “Less than an hour away. Let’s go,” I said, my pulse quickening.

  ***

  I laid my badge on the counter, getting an instant reaction from the guy behind the counter at the Granton Banshee hub. They were a new-ish
internet service provider; I’d never used them before, but I was hoping I could avoid the process of getting a warrant…

  The guy behind the counter was young, and a stoner-type, with bloodshot eyes and long, stringy hair.

  “Did I do something wrong?” the young man asked, his eyes flitting around the room, nervously.

  “Oh, definitely not, sir. We’re investigating two missing persons cases. We’ve tracked down a possible suspect in the crime, but we need an IP address. Do you think you could help me? This is time sensitive.”

  The guy looked around the empty office, still nervous.

  “Okay, let me see it.”

  I sighed. I passed him Nova’s phone. While he typed something into his own computer, I gave Chad a gleeful thumbs-up through the window. He was sitting in my cruiser in the parking lot, rocking with excitement.

  “It will take fifteen or twenty minutes. Do you just need the IP address, or do you want the actual address of the IP user?”

  I couldn’t believe my luck. Smiling, I said, “Both please.” For the first time since taking this case, I felt a glimmer of hope and excitement.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Al

  She trusted me, which is why we planned her escape together. With the ad in the paper for the cabin in Northfolk, we both agreed: it was the perfect place. Out in the middle of nowhere and already partially furnished, it was far away from her family and friends. Far away from her abuser. Martin expected her to run toward her father and sister, and he expected her to leave while he was at work. So, we had to do the opposite.

  At night, while he was sleeping comfortably, was the perfect time to do it. All she had to do was plant the blood evidence, but that was sort of tricky. She said it hurt, a lot, but I told her it was necessary. We had to take extra measures to make sure they suspected him. Who knew if they would use luminol in the apartment…but hopefully, they would, and then they would find her bloody message on the bathroom wall and the blood spots she left behind…

  One week before she left, she waited until Martin and Lily were sleeping. In the bathroom, she locked the door and plugged the drain, then she slit both of her wrists. I told her how to do it so that she would bleed a lot, but not lose her own life. It’s all in how you cut, I’d told her.

  There was a small part of me that thought she wouldn’t do it, but I’d never tell her that. The next day, she messaged me a picture that made my stomach turn. She’d lost enough blood to write the message and she’d scooped up the excess blood in the tub and splattered it around the living room and streaked it toward the kitchen. Afterwards, she wrapped her arms in gauze, and using heavy bleach, she stayed up all night scrubbing the evidence away. Martin beat her bad for the cutting, but she told him she was depressed because she wanted another baby. That sick bastard liked that for some reason. So, life in the Nesbitt household went on as normal for the next seven days.

  She took only what she could throw together, even leaving the car seat behind. She turned his phone on silent so that his app wouldn’t wake him up to alert him, and then her and Lily slipped out into the night. Before they left, she tossed Lily’s extra pair of orange sneakers into the back of Martin’s truck.

  Halfway to Northfolk, she stopped and bought a cell phone. One of those disposable kind, just so no one could trace her. She texted me the number and told me to wait twenty-four hours, as we’d planned. I was so relieved when I got that text and knew she was close to safety.

  I waited to call like she told me to, but I didn’t wait to act. Leaving Martin wasn’t enough. Unless the police had a reason to suspect him and search his home, he eventually would have found her. With his money and resources, it was only a matter of time.

  So, I didn’t have a choice. I had to take the girl. She needed to be somewhere safe, away from all the drama.

  I slipped inside the cabin while they were both sleeping. The little girl barely stirred as I lifted her from the bed. I carried her out of the house, and as I cut through the woods behind the property, she opened her eyes and moaned for her mother.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Neighbor

  CLARA

  After last night, I was afraid to go outside. With the windows locked and the curtains drawn tight, I felt a slight sense of relief. If I can’t see out, then they can’t see in, I assured myself as I made myself dinner in the kitchen. I was too nervous to eat, but my mother used to say that sometimes going through the motions can make you feel a little better when nothing else can.

  Darkness had fallen over the farm like a warning shadow, and with the windows plastered shut, the house had assumed a foggy gloom akin to a cave. All of the stale cigarette smoke floating around didn’t help much either. My throat felt blistery and sore.

  Holding the butter knife, I slowly smeared Miracle Whip on six slices of bread. Suddenly, the knife clattered from my hand and hit the floor. A pair of headlights, deep red, pierced through the pearly white kitchen curtains even though they were closed.

  I held my breath, waiting. Listening. Finally, I heard the soft thud of a door slamming and then a gentle knock at the door. Nervously, I crept over to the peephole. Taking a deep breath, I looked out to see who it was.

  It was only Officer James. As usual, she looked like a nervous Nancy. I considered not answering, pretending to be asleep, but I wanted to hear an update about Martin Nesbitt and what happened to him in Granton.

  Finally, I placed my hand on the knob and pulled the front door open while wearing a wooden smile. “Saw you on the news last night. You made it back to town pretty quickly.”

  “We need to talk, Clara.”

  Officer James’ usual nervousness was all but gone, her face now grim and daunting.

  “Okay. Come in.” I headed for the kitchen to sit down, but she was already talking as I turned my back.

  “Where did you take the girl? And what did ya do to Nova Nesbitt?”

  My mouth dropped open and I turned around. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “We know about the website. The secret knitting club. We know you were the one chatting with her in Tennessee. I know you lured her here as your renter. Shit, you probably showed her your own ad in the paper. But why? If you cared about her so much, why would you take her little girl?”

  I shook my head in disgust. “You’re insane. I’ve never even met Nova. She mailed in her deposit, and we spoke by email twice when she was interested in renting the property. She disappeared before I even got to meet her, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know that. You knew her well, didn’t you, Clara? All those conversations between her and Al. Between her and you.”

  “Al? I don’t know anyone named Al!” I snapped, pressing my back against the kitchen counter. The edge of it felt sharp as a razor against my back, and I pressed harder, wishing this woman would leave.

  “Your little sister who got sick and died when you were a kid. Her name was Allison, right? You called her Al. My mother told me that. And you had a daughter who died, tragically, too. Were you trying to replace your daughter with Nova’s?”

  “Of course not!” The room tilted and swayed sideways, like I was upside-down at the fair. I closed my eyes, wishing the spinning would go away.

  “And that’s not the only thing we found. I got the VIN number off the truck. I know it belongs to your sister. Did she help you hide the girl? Did she help you hide the body? Is your sister here right now?”

  Officer James was serious, her hands on her hips, lips curled up in a nasty smile. Any trace of that anxious woman I met the other day was gone.

  “I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stumbled around the kitchen until I found my cigarette pack. But my hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t light one.

  “Oh, but you do, Clara. Your sister, Rachel, and your daughter, Krissy, are involved with a website that helps victims of domestic violence. I know you guys think you were doing the right thing by taking Nova’s child, but y
ou weren’t. You can’t just take someone’s baby. I wish you’d just talk to me. Explain what’s going on…”

  My throat tightened in dread. “Rachel? What does Rachel have to do with any of this? It’s my daughter Krissy’s website; Rachel just helps refer women who are in trouble to the site…”

  Officer James cursed under her breath. “He really must have done it.”

  “Done what?” I asked, my voice as small as a child’s. “Has something happened to Rachel?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this but Rachel is also missing,” she said. “So, cut the crap. I know you knew Nova before she became your tenant.”

  “Then he killed her. That awful man must have killed her,” I moaned. My feet wobbled out from under me and I dropped down to my knees. Had Nova’s awful husband murdered my sister? I wouldn’t put it past him…

  I flopped forward onto the kitchen floor, burying my face into the sandy linoleum as the pain washed over me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  72 hours earlier

  The Mother

  NOVA

  “Al? I-is that r-really you?” I stammered into the phone. I was out of bed now, pacing, eager to talk to her on the phone for the very first time.

  Her voice was gravellier than I’d expected, and she sounded scared. The fact that Al was scared, scared the hell out of me. But then she started talking, started explaining herself, and everything fell in line.

  She’d taken my daughter.

  “God, Al, I fr-freaked the f-fuck out. I c-called the cops and everything. I th-thought Martin took her.”

  “He didn’t, but I needed you to call the cops. We need them to have an excuse to search his apartment, you know? They’ll find the blood and the shoes in the backseat. That should be enough right there to make a jury distrust him. And, now he knows where you are, so you must get going. That police woman called him and so did you. It won’t take long for him to track you down, he could already be on the way,” Al said. The fear in her voice was gone, replaced with stone-like seriousness. “You still there, Nova?”