Vanishing Point

by Lisa Harris

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Cassie tilted her chair back and tapped her black painted nails against the table. “I’m just so scared. I watched the news this morning. They said a serial killer took her. They called him the Angel Abductor. Is that true?”

  Garrett glanced at Sam before responding. “That is a possibility we’re looking into, but right now we don’t know who took her. And since you’re the last person who saw her yesterday, we’re hoping that there might be something you saw that will help us find her.”

  “I wish I could give you more, but I already told the other officers everything I know.”

  “I understand, which is why this won’t take long. I’d just like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s okay. Sometimes there are little details that end up helping us that you didn’t even know were important.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” her mom asked.

  Cassie nodded. “If I’d been the one who disappeared, Sarah would be doing anything she could to find me. I have to do the same thing.”

  Garrett picked up his pen. “Let’s start with you and Sarah. How long have the two of you been friends?”

  “We’ve been in school together since, like . . . the second grade, I guess. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

  “So you would know if she was unhappy or not feeling well.”

  “Of course.”

  “Had Sarah been acting differently lately? Moody, withdrawn, anything that might have had you worried about her?”

  “No. Not that I can think of.”

  Garrett caught the hesitation in Cassie’s voice while he waited for her to answer. While the number one suspect on their list might be the Angel Abductor, they still had to verify that Sarah hadn’t simply run away.

  “Are you sure?” Sam asked.

  Cassie nodded. “Sarah was hardly ever moody. You know, she’s one of those people who are always happy. She always sees the good in everything.”

  “So you don’t know of anything she might have been upset about?”

  “No. She was excited about her birthday. She was planning a big party. She seemed fine, and if something had been wrong, she would have told me. We tell each other everything.”

  “And you don’t think it’s possible that she was hiding anything from you?” Sam asked.

  “Sarah couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. Especially not from me.”

  Sam eyed the file in front of him. “I understand that you and Sarah were in a car wreck a few weeks ago?”

  Mrs. Stratton leaned forward and shook her head. “What does this have to do with Sarah’s disappearance?”

  “We need to look at what Sarah’s frame of mind might have been when she got into the abductor’s car,” Sam said.

  “It’s okay, Mom.”

  “Listen.” Garrett caught Cassie’s gaze. “I know these questions are hard, but here’s the truth about missing teens. Most teens who go missing aren’t abducted. They run away because of boyfriend issues or problems with their families, so we have to look into every angle and hope that in the process we can come up with a solid lead to follow that brings her home.”

  Cassie shifted her gaze away from his and stared at the table. “Sarah and I were in a car wreck with a couple of boys about six weeks ago . . . it was pretty bad, but we weren’t drinking. None of us were.”

  “I read that in the report. Can you tell us what happened?”

  “Ricky, this guy we were out with, was driving too fast and missed a curve. It was stupid, I know, and scared me so bad I’ll never go with anybody like that again. They had a hard time getting me out of the car.” She held up her arm to show them the almost-healed wound running from her elbow to her wrist. “The doctor said I was lucky that this was the worst of it. It took them over an hour to get me out.”

  “What about Sarah’s parents? Were they upset?”

  “All our parents were upset.” Cassie avoided her mom’s gaze. “We were supposed to be studying. Sarah got in trouble, we all did. But she wouldn’t run away just because she was grounded.”

  “What about boys?” Sam asked. “Did she have a boyfriend or someone she was interested in? The guys from the wreck?”

  “No, Ricky and Hayden were just friends of ours. She liked this one boy, Brice Mitchell, but it wasn’t serious or anything. She didn’t even know for sure if he liked her.”

  “So there wasn’t anyone she was involved with that her parents would disapprove of? Or maybe someone they didn’t know about?” Garrett asked.

  “No . . . not Sarah. I love the girl, but she’s way too much of a Goody Two-shoes to do something like that.”

  “So she got along with her parents?”

  “Sarah got along pretty well with everyone. Her parents, teachers, coaches, the kids at school. I’m not saying her life was perfect. I mean, everybody gets mad at their parents, but Sarah was lucky. Her mom and dad are pretty cool. They invite me over to eat at their restaurant sometimes, and I hang out at their house a lot.”

  “Was there anything that she might have been upset with her parents about?”

  “Dumb things. Like she wanted a new dress for her party, but her dad didn’t think she needed one. She’s into clothes and makeup. Her sister was going to talk her dad into getting the dress. But you don’t run away over a dress, either. At least Sarah wouldn’t.”

  “Let’s move on to what happened yesterday after school.”

  Cassie pressed her lips together and nodded. “It was just like any other day. Our last class was over, so we left together.”

  “What were you talking about?”

  “How glad we were that we were done with our biology test and how she couldn’t wait for her party. She was really excited about it.”

  “What happened next?”

  “She was meeting Nikki, and I needed to go and talk to another friend of ours about this project we were working on for English, so I left her. Told her I’d see her tomorrow.”

  “But you still saw her get into the car?”

  “Someone’s car alarm went off, and when I turned around to see whose it was, Sarah was getting into this black car. I thought it was weird, because she’d told me she was waiting for her sister and I knew it wasn’t Nikki’s car. But that’s all I know. I watched her get in and then she was gone.”

  “And yet she didn’t seem upset. Meaning no one was forcing her into the car.”

  “No. Not from what I could see.”

  “I understand you gave a description of the man to the officers who spoke with you yesterday.”

  “I didn’t see him well, but I know it was a man. I didn’t recognize him.”

  “Could this be him?” Sam pushed the artist’s sketch across the table in front of Cassie and waited for her to study it.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It kind of looks like him, though I don’t think he had a beard. But like I said, all I got was a quick look. Who is he?”

  “A possible suspect.” They’d have to leave it at that, though Garrett had no doubt that the media was already spewing out every conjecture they could come up with. But there was nothing he could do about that right now.

  “Let’s move on to the car she got into. Can you remember anything about the vehicle that stood out to you?”

  Cassie shrugged. “I don’t really pay much attention to cars.”

  “That’s okay. Just try to remember. Any bumper stickers? Unusual lights? Anything that that would help us recognize it?”

  “The hubcaps were shiny, but it was just another car to me.” Cassie spread her fingers out on the table in front of her, palms down. “If it wasn’t this Angel Abductor who took her, then where is she?”

  Garrett caught the panic in her voice. Things like this always happened to other people. And teenagers in particular believed themselves to be invincible. Except they weren’t.

  “We can’t answer that,” Garrett said. “But our job is to go through the evidence and then keep digging until we find out what
happened.”

  Cassie leaned forward. “I might not know what happened to Sarah, but she didn’t run away. I spoke with her right after school. She wasn’t upset at all. She was getting ready to meet her sister for ice cream, not some guy she was planning to run away with. And Sarah would never get into a car with someone she didn’t know.”

  “So you’re saying that she had to have known the person she got into the car with.”

  Garrett looked at Sam. They’d come to the conclusion that either there had been some kind of contact with the abductor ahead of time, or that he’d stalked each girl, waiting for the right moment to take them. But they’d yet to come up with a connection between the abductor and all the girls. With the past four victims, they’d investigated everyone from teachers, to school janitors, to church connections and extracurricular activities, but still hadn’t found the link they were looking for.

  Garrett slid his business card across the table to Cassie. “If you think of anything that might help us find her, please don’t hesitate to call. Day or night.”

  Garrett waited for one of the officers to escort the Strattons to the exit, then turned to Sam. “What do you think? Just like Sarah’s family, Cassie is insisting that Sarah wouldn’t have just got into a car with a stranger. But we know she did get in the car with someone.”

  Michaels met them outside their offices. “We might have a lead. We found fingerprints on the bag of marijuana that was found near the Polaroid and matched them to a man by the name of Matthew Banks. He’s been arrested twice for possession.”

  “So who is he?” Garrett asked.

  “He works at a place called Rob’s Gym as one of their personal trainers. He’s also a marathon runner, which could explain the marijuana.”

  Sam shook his head. “Why marijuana?”

  “Legal or not, a lot of runners use it in sports,” Michaels said. “Especially extreme sports like long-distance running.”

  Garrett frowned. He’d heard of the practice from more than one person he ran with, but had never had any desire to try it. As far as he was concerned, the high he got from running was enough for him. But if it connected them to Sarah . . .

  “We need to pay Mr. Banks a visit and see if we can connect him. I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to come forward himself with information regarding what he saw. Not if he had weed on him.”

  “Did you get an address for him?”

  “I called the gym where he works. He’s there now. And here’s the clincher. He owns a black Crown Victoria that matches Cassie Stratton’s description of the car that drove away with Sarah.”

  Garrett took the address and plate number Michaels had written down and nodded at Sam. “We might have just found our killer.”

  12

  1:06 p.m.

  Parking lot of Rob’s Gym

  Rob’s Gym was located on the end of a busy strip mall less than two miles from Sarah Boyd’s school, the location where she’d last been seen. Garrett strode across the parking lot toward the entrance with Sam, surprised at how many cars were in the parking lot in the middle of the day. He preferred to do his workouts early in the morning—often before the sun was even up—rather than deal with the hassle of trying to find time during the day to fit it in. But apparently not everyone felt that way.

  Halfway to the front door of the gym, he stopped in front of a black sedan and pulled out his phone to double-check the license plate number they’d been given.

  “This is Banks’s car,” Garrett said, dropping his phone back into his pocket.

  “An interesting choice of vehicle for our suspect.”

  “You can say that again. What are the odds that the man drives a Crown Victoria?” The most widely used automobile in law enforcement.

  “It could be the answer as to why they were willing to get into the car.”

  Garrett walked around the vehicle and stopped at the driver’s side. “There are marks under this window and above the door handle. And the frame is slightly bent. Looks like someone tried to jack it recently.”

  “Now that’s definitely odd. Your average car thief doesn’t usually go for this model.” Sam stepped up next to Garrett. “But this looks familiar. When I was in college, my father and I restored a ’51 Packard. Someone tried to steal it one night and did this same kind of damage in the process. My father was fit to be tied.”

  Garrett scanned the interior through the window but didn’t see anything of significance. “I didn’t know you were into cars?”

  “I’ve rebuilt a couple engines since then,” Sam said as they started back for the entrance of the gym. “A ’65 Ford Mustang and a ’62 Pontiac Grand Prix.”

  Inside the two-story building was row after row of state-of-the-art fitness equipment. To the left on the main floor, cardio equipment lined up beneath flat-screen TVs playing the news and reality TV. To the right was a separate glassed-in swimming pool where an instructor was teaching a class.

  Garrett flashed his badge at the receptionist, who didn’t look a day over eighteen. “We’re looking for one of your employees. Matthew Banks.”

  She nodded toward the wide staircase beside them. “Last time I saw him he was headed up to the weight room on the second floor.”

  “Thanks.”

  Garrett and Sam hurried up the stairs to the large room that held even more rows of equipment with mirrored walls that opened to the floor below. They searched for their suspect among the couple dozen members working out.

  “There he is,” Sam said, heading for the far side of the room. “Matthew Banks?”

  Banks looked up. “Yes.”

  “I’m Special Agent Bradford and this is Special Agent Addison with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. We’d like to have a word with you about your car.”

  “My car?” Banks peered behind him, then started running.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Garrett said.

  He headed after Banks with Sam right behind him, weaving his way between weight machines and a group of bodybuilders who stood gawking at the chase.

  Where in the world did he think he was going?

  Banks kicked a barbell on the ground and rolled it toward them. Anticipating the move, Garrett jumped over the obstacle and kept running. Banks scurried down a side staircase that led directly to the pool and swung open a glass door. Garrett managed to catch it before it swung shut and breathed in the chlorine and high humidity in the air as he ran into the pool area where a group of middle-aged women were participating in a class. A large sign hanging on the wall said NO RUNNING. Right. At the far end of the room was an exit sign over the door leading, he presumed, back out to the parking lot. That was where Banks was headed. But not if he stopped him first.

  Garrett pulled a round life preserver off the wall, aimed, then threw it like a Frisbee as hard as he could at the man, hitting him square on the back of his legs. Banks lost his footing and took a nosedive into the pool.

  A scurry of movement erupted as the women scrambled to get out of the pool and their instructor shouted at Garrett and Banks for disturbing their class.

  Banks bobbed in the water like an apple at a carnival.

  Garrett held up his badge to the women, then turned back to Banks and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s over. Get out of the pool.”

  Banks pulled himself onto the tiled deck, then followed orders to lie on his stomach in order for Garrett to handcuff him.

  “Sorry for the interruption, ladies,” Sam said, shooting the women his best smile.

  “Maybe we should start over outside,” Garrett said to Banks as they walked toward the exit.

  Garrett led the man out the side door, with Sam following right behind, then headed across the parking lot, stopping at the man’s car.

  “Like my partner said before you decided to bolt,” Garrett said, “I’m Special Agent Addison and he’s Special Agent Bradford with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. Why’d you run?”

  Water dripped from the man’s
gym clothes, forming a puddle on the ground beneath him. “I owe some money to a couple of rough guys. Thought you were them.”

  “Is this your car?” Garrett asked.

  “Why?”

  Garrett raised his brow, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, it’s my car.”

  “Good, because we need to take a look inside,” Garrett said. “Do you happen to have the keys on you?”

  Banks frowned. “You can’t just search my car.”

  “A bag of marijuana with your fingerprints on it was found near a crime scene. I’d say that gives us probable cause.”

  “What crime scene?”

  “Where are your keys?” Garrett repeated.

  Banks hesitated, then shrugged. “They’re in the zippered pocket in my shorts.”

  Garrett fished out the key and opened the driver’s door, then stepped aside for Sam to take a look.

  “It’s been temporarily fixed,” Sam said, “but someone definitely pried out the ignition switch so they could get to the wires.” He stepped away from the car. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? And I’m guessing that you didn’t report it, because you were afraid your secret might be discovered.”

  “What secret?” Banks asked.

  Sam popped open the trunk, then walked to the back of the car.

  “You can’t search my car—”

  “Actually he can,” Garrett said.

  “Is this what you’re worried about?” Sam asked, nodding to a small stash of weed. “These pick-me-ups in the back of your car?”

  “Ouch,” Garrett said. “Did you know that a third offense of possession of marijuana is a felony and, according to our records, you’ve already been arrested twice for possession?”

  Sam closed the trunk and nodded at Banks. “I think it’s time we have a long talk. About murder.”

  Matthew Banks stared at the table in the interrogation room, looking terrified. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I didn’t murder anyone.”

  “First things first. We understand you were out running last night,” Sam said, sitting down beside Garrett.

  “I run most nights, and last I checked, there’s nothing illegal about running at night. I’m training for a marathon.”