Vanishing Point

by Lisa Harris

  “What time did you go running?” Garrett asked.

  “I don’t know. I got off work at five thirty and met a friend shortly after that to go running for a couple hours. I’m training for a marathon and usually do a long run on Tuesdays.”

  “Where’d you run?”

  “Percy Warner Park.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. It’s one of my regular routes.”

  “What about the trail that backs up to the high school? Do you ever run there?”

  “Why would I run there? It’s private property.”

  “We’re asking because you left something there.” Garrett slid the photo of the marijuana they’d found near the school across the table. “This matched those we found in your car.”

  Banks’s gaze shifted. “I said I wasn’t there, and even if I was, there’s no way you can prove that’s mine.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Garrett frowned. The guy was either innocent or incredibly stupid. “It has your fingerprints all over it.”

  “Whatever.” Banks’s jaw tensed. He was clearly feeling defeated. “But it’s not like it hurts anyone. People believe that if you use marijuana you’re some . . . druggy . . . but the truth is that more runners use it than you think. It helps with fatigue and anxiety, and helps to control pain.”

  “And it also happens to be illegal,” Sam said. “Did you know that in Tennessee, possession of more than half an ounce of marijuana is a felony? And if you’re caught cultivating even just one plant, it’s also automatically a felony. You’re looking at a felony with your third arrest of possession.” Garrett leaned forward, pausing for emphasis. “You’re looking at jail time no matter how this goes down. And if you’re cultivating or distributing, there’s a lot more jail time involved.”

  “No . . . no. I’m not selling. I swear, it’s all for personal use. I figured I’d have less of a chance of getting caught if I grew it myself. I didn’t have to deal with a seller. And I was hoping to not have to deal with the likes of you.”

  “Now back to the question of murder,” Garrett said. “Do you recognize this girl?”

  He slid a photo of Sarah across the table.

  “No. Who is she?”

  “She went missing yesterday, and we have evidence that puts you on the scene. We believe it’s very possible you abducted her.”

  “Whoa . . . wait a minute.” Banks shoved the photo back across the table and held up his hands.

  “I need you to think, Banks, because the evidence is stacking up against you. Your car was seen outside the school where Sarah Boyd disappeared. Your fingerprints were found on a bag of weed right next to where we found evidence of her abduction. And it’s not just this girl. You’ve heard of the Angel Abductor, haven’t you?”

  Garrett laid out the photos of the missing and murdered girls, one at a time.

  “No.” Banks shook his head. “This wasn’t me.”

  “Then where were you around three thirty yesterday?”

  “At the gym. Like I said, I worked till five thirty. I didn’t even leave the parking lot until I got off work.”

  “And you have people who can vouch for you?”

  “Of course. The gym is full of people who saw me there.” He gripped the edge of the table, realizing perhaps for the first time how serious the situation really was.

  “Okay, but if you knew your car was jacked, why didn’t you file a police report?”

  “Would you have gone to the police if your car had traces of weed in the trunk? But forget the weed. I wasn’t near the school, and I didn’t kill those girls. Whoever took my car had to have. He jacked the car, then brought it back and tried to frame me.” He folded his arms. “I want a lawyer. I’m done talking about this.”

  “What do you think?” Sam asked after they’d stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind them.

  “I think we need to confirm his alibis with his coworkers and his running partner, but I think he’s being set up.”

  “I tend to agree with you. I’ll have Michaels do the follow-up.” They started back toward their offices.

  “What about cameras at the gym?” Garrett asked.

  “Already checked. They have fake cameras up. No recordings. They’re just supposed to help deter crimes.”

  “Well, whoever jacked Banks’s car didn’t bother to try and hide the crime,” Garrett said.

  “Which is why I think he wanted us to find Banks.” Sam stopped in front of Garrett’s desk. “He wanted to send us on a wild-goose chase and keep us distracted. He’s playing games.”

  They were going in circles again, but this wasn’t a game. Not when girls’ lives hung in the balance.

  Sam glanced at the pile of files sitting on Garrett’s desk.

  “How late were you here last night?” Sam asked.

  “Most of the night,” Garrett said. “I went through the notes we have on the five victims, then did a search of abductions over the past three years, trying to find any similarities.”

  “I thought Jordan already did an expanded search of crimes across the state, matching our killer’s MO.”

  “She did. But I keep going back to this case we looked at last winter. It comes close to matching the parameters, but not close enough that we gave it priority.”

  He had his boss’s attention. “Which case?”

  “Amanda Love.”

  They both knew the case well. Amanda Love had been kidnapped one afternoon six months ago on her way home from school, but she’d managed to escape from the location her abductor had taken her. She never saw his face, because when he captured her, he’d grabbed her from behind and blindfolded her.

  “Did you find something else?” Sam asked. “Because nothing else about the case fit with our abductor’s MO. Our guy is precise, and this guy—whoever took her—fumbled from the get-go.”

  “True, but she does fit the physical profile of the other victims.”

  Sam leaned against the edge of the desk. “What else?”

  “I’ve been going over the transcript of Amanda’s interview.” Garrett said, sitting back down at his desk. “We have a witness that has Sarah Boyd getting into a car with a man.”

  “Okay.”

  “Until now, we haven’t had any evidence of how our abductor takes the girls,” Garrett said. “Does he grab them off the street when no one’s looking? Does he lure them into a vehicle? We just haven’t known. We only have a sketch of the man because a witness in Wright’s case saw her talking to someone. We have evidence that our abductor watches the girls, looking for an opportunity to take them, but we’ve never known exactly how he takes them. We always assumed that he grabs them when no one is looking. Sarah’s case, though, shows us something different. At least in her abduction. We have a witness who saw her get into the vehicle of our abductor. We just don’t know why she would go with him.

  “In the interview with Amanda,” he continued, “she talked about feeling as if she were being followed—just like most of the other girls. She mentioned an incident that happened when she was walking home from school by herself, three days before her abduction. A car pulled up alongside her and a man rolled down his window. When three boys rode past on bikes, the car drove away. When she was shown the sketch of Julia Wright’s abductor, she said it looked like him.”

  Sam shook his head. “There are still far more discrepancies than similarities. The main one is that Amanda didn’t just get into a car when she was taken, she was grabbed from behind, bound, and blindfolded. There were no signs of the other girls being bound or blindfolded.”

  “I agree, but while there have been basic similarities to each abduction, I also see him evolving in his methods. Changing them to fit the situation. It makes sense.”

  “Or like I said, it has the fingerprints of a copycat. Because if it was a copycat who took Amanda, he wouldn’t have known about the photos. And he wouldn’t have known what we know now—that maybe the girls went wi
th him willingly, like Sarah did.”

  “Or maybe something just went wrong and he didn’t get the chance to take her photo. I’d like to bring her in and speak with her again,” Garrett said.

  “I’m not sure it’s worth the trauma on her end of bringing her in and making her relive her experience again. She’s had it rough. Her parents weren’t too keen on her being interviewed the first time. You remember the interview. She talked about her ongoing nightmares. Her fear of strangers and dark places. And I’m not sure how speaking to her again is going to help.”

  “We dismissed any connection she could have had to the Angel Abductor, which means there might be things we missed. What if we met outside the department? Somewhere neutral that she chose so she wouldn’t feel intimidated.”

  “You think it’s that important?’

  “It’s possible she’s the best eyewitness we have. And we’re running out of time to find Sarah Boyd. I think it’s worth a second look.”

  “Okay.” Sam nodded. “Go ahead and make the arrangements.”

  13

  7:14 p.m.

  Shelby Avenue Bridge

  Jordan walked beside Garrett as they started across the iconic pedestrian bridge that crossed the Cumberland River. She finally felt her entire body begin to relax. While they were dating, he’d always seemed to be able to read her mind and anticipate her needs. It was one of the things she’d loved about him. And tonight, once again, he’d anticipated exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her family and wanted to be near her mother, she needed an hour away to catch her breath and refocus. And she could tell he’d needed it as well. The case to find the latest girl who’d been abducted was grueling.

  The outlook from the bridge seemed to stretch for miles, giving them a stunning view of both the football stadium and the familiar skyline of the city she’d always consider home. Soon the sun would set across the river, followed by a display from the night lights of the city. Part of her missed the leisurely southern pace, live music, and the open green spaces. But what she missed the most was family, friends . . . and Garrett.

  “That was the best pie I’ve had in months,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “Okay, the only piece of pie I’ve had, but definitely the best.”

  “Somehow I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.” Garrett laughed as they fell into a comfortable stride.

  He’d always been good at remembering what she liked. They’d created dozens of memories together. Hiking in Percy Warner Park, canoeing on the Cumberland, music at the Bluebird Café . . . Their relationship hadn’t been perfect, but if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine everything from when they were back in the police academy. Rookie officers out to save the world. They’d been young and invincible. And yet for some reason she’d chosen to walk away from him.

  “Any changes with your mom?” he asked.

  She pulled her thoughts back to the present. “She sleeps most of the time now. The nurse says it won’t be long. One of us tries to be with her all of the time, but today, when she did wake up, she didn’t know who we were. Kept asking for her sister Kitty, who’s been gone for years.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Honestly, I suppose it depends on the hour.” She drew in a deep breath. “What’s struck me most is that beneath the grief is this sense of peace I never would have anticipated. We’ve cried as we’ve talked to her, given permission for her to leave when she’s ready, promised her we’d take care of each other. And while I can’t be sure, I think she hears us. It’s like God has allowed us to create sweet memories of our time together, despite the grief we all feel.”

  “I know it’s hard, but you’re right. This time you’ve been given with her is a gift.”

  “It’s also made me think about the girls who were murdered.” She slowed down, catching the fading sunlight sparkling against the water. “Their families never had the chance to say goodbye. I don’t think I ever realized how important it is emotionally to say goodbye, but not everyone gets to do that.”

  “I’ve never thought about that, but you’re right.”

  “I heard Special Agent Parks called my boss.” She studied his solid profile. “What do you know about the missing girl?”

  “Her name’s Sarah Boyd. Her parents own a restaurant. She vanished outside her school.” Garrett shoved his hands into his pockets, the frustration clear on his face.

  “Have you confirmed she was taken by the Angel Abductor?”

  “So far no body has shown up, but we have found a Polaroid. Beyond that, we haven’t been able to find a solid lead. I even dug through a bunch of missing persons cases to see if I could find something we’ve missed.”

  “And did you find something?”

  “A young woman was abducted about six months ago, but was able to escape her captor. Her case hit just outside the parameters we’re looking at, but I think it merits taking another look.”

  “I think it’s a good idea, though personally I’ll never be able to wrap my mind around just how many kids go missing. And the sad thing is that I see hundreds of cases behind the scenes that never stay on the radar with the media, because they want the sensational ones like what we see here with these girls.” She felt the tension start to seep back into her muscles as she spoke. “No matter their social status or their color, every missing child needs an advocate to ensure they’re found.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I’m sorry. I’ll get off my soapbox now. It’s just that I’ve seen too much in my job. It’s impossible not to let it affect me.”

  “Sometimes I think you actually have the harder job,” he said.

  “But you’re the one who has to face the families. I still find that the toughest.”

  She stopped and stared out across the water. Even though thousands of cases were never reported, there were still over eight hundred thousand missing persons in the country’s NCIC database. Of those who were under eighteen, most were categorized as endangered runaways. A much smaller percentage were family abductions, and only around 1 percent were non-family abductions. But when taken by a stranger—like their Angel Abductor—the odds of finding them alive were frighteningly slim, with only a quarter of the victims surviving the first few hours.

  Downtown Nashville rose up along the horizon. She didn’t want to think about death and sorrow. She’d seen enough of that lately. The last rays of sunlight burned across the horizon, casting shadows across the buildings. There was always something mesmerizing about the scene, and it made her wonder once again why she’d left this city.

  “Do you remember when we first came here, to this spot?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “How could I forget?” he said. “It was just a few weeks before we graduated from the academy. Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago. At other times it seems like yesterday.”

  It had been the first time she’d realized she was falling in love with him. The feelings had been unexpected, but then everything had changed with her decision to go with the FBI. She’d never found out what could have happened between them. And now, after all these years, it seemed that too much time had slipped away from them.

  “What about the guy you were dating?” he asked, as they started walking again. “I figured you’d have a ring on your finger.”

  She shook her head. Trey wasn’t exactly someone she wanted to think about. Not right now.

  “Too personal?” he asked when she didn’t answer.

  “No . . . sorry. Let’s just say Trey didn’t end up being the kind of guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We broke up shortly after I returned home last year.”

  “You thought he might be the one?”

  “Maybe I just wanted him to be. My mom used to always remind me that I hadn’t given her any grandchildren.”

  Garrett laughed. “My mom kept pulling that card on my sister. Thankfully, she doesn’t bug me about it, but that might just be because she’s given up.”

  “So what abo
ut you?” she asked, flipping the subject back to him. “Any women in your life?”

  “Besides my mom? No.”

  The glowing sunset lit up the city in a closing grand finale, leaving shades of yellow and orange splashed across the water.

  “I always envied how close your family was,” he continued. “I show up for our family dinners on holidays, and everyone pretends like we’re one big happy family. But we’re not.”

  “Your parents love you.”

  “Yes, but they’ve always been so focused on building their careers that they never bothered to see who I really am. They only saw who they wanted me to be. And unfortunately, I never met their expectations.”

  “If you ask me, that’s not a bad thing. You’ve followed your heart and done extremely well.”

  “And I wouldn’t do any of it over, though I wish . . .”

  She looked up at him as his voice trailed off. “You wish what?”

  “You told me once that you didn’t regret joining the FBI. Do you ever think about what might have happened between us if they hadn’t come calling?”

  Unable to tell if he was serious or just reminiscing, she decided to take the easy way out. “I’m not sure, but we’d probably both be married and have a couple of kids by now.”

  “Married to each other, or someone else?”

  “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

  She’d dated on and off while living back East, but she’d never found that one person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. There had always been some reason why it wouldn’t work. If she were completely honest with herself, Garrett had been the only person she’d ever thought about marrying.

  They turned around and started walking back across the bridge. Garrett wouldn’t let the subject drop. “If we had married, what about our careers? Where do you think we’d be? I’ve heard that two cops married to each other can be tough.”

  “But there has to be advantages of being married to someone who understands the long hours and the dynamics of our jobs. I guess I thought that marriage would just happen. The whole family, kids, and a picket fence, but then . . . I don’t know. Then it didn’t, and I wonder now if it ever will. It’s sad, because I’m realizing that if it does happen, my mom will never see the grandkids she wanted to hold so bad.”