Vanishing Point

by Lisa Harris

  “It’s good to see you too,” she said.

  “What about your partner?”

  “Ryley’s working for NSA now. It ended up being a move that made sense for him.”

  “And you?” he asked, easing his way back into the traffic leaving the airport. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good, actually.” She leaned back in the seat and let out a soft sigh, glad to be back on the ground again. “Besides the fact that I’m here because another girl’s gone missing.”

  “I bet your father’s looking forward to seeing you.”

  “He is. It’s been a tough year for him, but I’ve been able to see him more since transferring to Memphis. He even drove the three and a half hours last month and took me out to lunch.”

  Garrett glanced at her before changing lanes. “I’m glad you came.”

  “The FBI wants this case closed as much as you do.”

  She didn’t miss the implication that his comment had less to do with their job ahead and more to do with the fact that he’d missed her. And if she were honest, she’d missed him too. But while visits to her father since her mother’s death had been frequent, she’d always found an excuse not to drop by to see Garrett. Her father needed her. Or at least that’s what she told herself. Today, though, the only thing that really mattered was finding Marissa Dillinger.

  Twenty minutes later, Jordan stepped through the open doorway of the Dillinger home in front of Garrett and felt a sense of déjà vu sweep over her. Another girl. Another family.

  How had they not found a way to stop this?

  Past the entryway, the living room opened up to the kitchen area, where half a dozen women were bustling around food that was spread out over the counter. Another fifteen or so sat working around a long table that had been set up in the middle of the living room. The murmur of low voices filled the room. A photo of Marissa smiling at the camera sat in the middle of the dining room table, ensuring that no one forgot the real reason they were there.

  A woman with dark hair and even darker brown eyes approached them from the kitchen. “You must be the officers I spoke with this morning.”

  “Yes. I’m Special Agent Garrett Addison with TBI,” Garrett said, holding up his badge. “And this is Special Agent Jordan Lambert with the FBI. We’re here to speak with Marissa’s parents.”

  “Candice Martin,” she said, shaking their hands. “I’m Marissa’s aunt. We’ve set up our own command post, as we’re calling it here.”

  “I’m impressed,” Jordan said. “What all are you working on?”

  “Initially, we started gathering photographs and video, which wasn’t difficult coming from a teen. We’ve got DNA samples together, search teams are recanvassing the area she was last seen, people are answering telephone calls, keeping up a MySpace page, and making sure she gets media attention. Contacting hospitals . . .” She shook her head. “Honestly, the list of things that needs to be done seems endless, but we’re determined to be here for the family.”

  “I hope you know that what you’re doing could be a big part of bringing Marissa home,” Jordan said.

  “I hope so.” The woman pressed her lips together. “I know you deal with things like this every day, but for us it’s like trying to maneuver our way through a nightmare.”

  “We know this is extremely hard for you, and we want you to know that we are doing everything we can to find your niece.”

  “Of course. Why don’t you follow me into the den. You’ll have more privacy in there.”

  Jordan recognized Marissa’s parents from the briefing she’d been given before catching her flight. Nathaniel Dillinger worked as a computer programmer. Bethany Dillinger was an office manager for a group of dentists. The couple sat on the couch across from a flat-screen TV and a stack of Disney movies, looking as if they had no idea what had just hit them. No idea how to deal with what was playing out in front of them. Jordan knew they were feeling that any sense of control had been suddenly jerked from their grasp and there was no way they could guess the enemy’s next move.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger. Thank you for seeing us,” Garrett said, urging them to stay seated after they introduced themselves. “I know this is an extremely difficult and emotional time for you both, and we promise not to take much of your time. We just have a few questions to ask you.”

  Mr. Dillinger nodded. “Of course.”

  Jordan studied the photos hung on the wall behind the couch. “Are your other children here?” she asked.

  Mrs. Dillinger shook her head. “They’re a lot younger than Marissa, so we haven’t told them what’s going on. They’re at their grandparents’ house an hour from here.”

  “When Candice told us you called,” Mr. Dillinger said, “we were praying you were coming with some good news. It’s already been over twenty-four hours. And like we’ve said over and over, Marissa would never run away. She does well in school, volunteers at a local preschool . . .”

  “We do have some news,” Jordan said, moving forward carefully. “There was a witness that just came forward. She saw your daughter in the parking lot of the library last night.”

  “That’s the last place we know she was,” Mr. Dillinger said. “She’d gone there to do some research.”

  “Our witness saw Marissa exit the library ahead of her, but she was on the phone with her husband, so she wasn’t paying close attention. What she did notice was your daughter getting into a car in the parking lot.”

  “Do you know whose car it was?”

  “No. She didn’t see the driver. And in fact, she didn’t think anything about the situation until later when she saw the news story.”

  Mrs. Dillinger pressed her hand against her mouth and shook her head. “I just can’t believe that. Marissa would never get into a car with someone she didn’t know. And she had no reason not to come straight home in her own car.”

  Jordan felt their frustration. The evidence showed that the abductor had somehow convinced these girls to get into the car with him. But they still didn’t know how.

  She held out the police sketch of the Angel Abductor. “We need to know if you recognize this man.”

  “Is that the man she left with?”

  “He is a suspect,” Garrett said.

  Mr. Dillinger shook his head. “He doesn’t look familiar. I’m sorry.”

  “What do we do now?” Mrs. Dillinger dabbed her eyes with a tissue, clearly fighting to hold back the tears. “We were given a list of things to do to help, but I still feel as if I’m just sitting here waiting for her to walk through the door.”

  “I know this is extremely hard,” Jordan said again. “What you need to do is make sure you take care of yourselves and your family. The stress and exhaustion makes decision making harder. Rely on the people who are out there right now. And in the meantime, we’ll keep you updated on any developments.”

  Jordan knew her words rang hollow. Any hope the couple had held that she and Garrett had come with good news had vanished when they arrived.

  They headed back through the house toward the front door, feeling the tension that filled the room. Parents weren’t supposed to have to worry about their daughters getting home safely from studying at the library.

  Garrett hesitated halfway across the living room. Jordan followed his gaze to a man standing in the corner of the room talking to one of the women.

  “Garrett?” Jordan’s hand pressed against his elbow. “You okay?”

  He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and nodded. “Yeah. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

  She followed Garrett out the front door, wishing she could melt some of the tension that had built up in her muscles. Even the couple of pain pills she’d downed an hour ago had done little to take away the throbbing at the base of her skull. She couldn’t shake the heavy weight of this case. Another girl gone. Nothing but a handful of flimsy leads at best. They couldn’t find another dead body. Not this time.

  Jordan walked through the open
-office floor plan of the TBI headquarters, surprised it was already half past two. And surprised that Garrett was still sitting in front of the computer where she’d left him over an hour ago. After comparing notes with the officers who’d canvassed the neighborhood where Marissa had gone missing, Sam and Michaels had left to go speak with the woman who’d witnessed Marissa leaving the library. Jordan had spoken briefly with her boss, then decided to go pick up lunch for the two of them.

  She stopped in front of his desk. Garrett looked up from his computer screen to the takeout bags she was carrying.

  “Thought you might like a late lunch. I was craving a spinach veggie wrap,” she said.

  He wrinkled his nose.

  “Don’t worry.” She set a bag down next to him, along with two bottles of water. “I got you the Reuben sandwich. Half a pound of corned beef, Swiss, and sauerkraut, and fries.”

  “Ah . . . you’re the best,” he said, pulling the sandwich from the sack and breathing in the aroma.

  She laughed. “I know. I figured that would make you happy.”

  She didn’t even try to stop the memories that surfaced. The deli two blocks from the police station had always been a favorite hangout of theirs. Sometimes they’d eat in. Other times they’d grab takeout and watch a movie at her apartment. She always ordered the spinach veggie wrap. He always ordered the Reuben.

  “I didn’t think I was hungry,” he said, “but I’m just smelling this and my stomach’s already starting to growl. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “You look exhausted.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I want this guy caught, but it’s the same old problem.” He unwrapped his sandwich and took a handful of fries. “Everything so far leads us to a dead end. The security cameras at the library weren’t working, our witness didn’t get a close look at the guy . . .”

  “There’s got to be something we’re missing,” Jordan said. “Nobody’s this smart. He had to have made some kind of mistake. And hopefully the witness will end up remembering something that will help.”

  “In the meantime,” he said, “I think we need to consider reinterviewing the families of the other girls. We need to find a common denominator that connects them, beside the fact that they’re all teen girls with long blonde hair.”

  “I agree, but Sam called me as I pulled into the parking lot,” Jordan said, taking a sip of her water. “He needs us to follow up on another lead that just got called in.”

  “What is it?”

  “A woman was watching the news this morning and said she saw Marissa. No license plate, but she can give a description of the vehicle.”

  Another photo popped up on Garrett’s computer screen. He was clearly not listening to what she was saying.

  “Garrett? You’ve been sitting here for hours, like you’re on to something. What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “But you think it might be something. I know that look of yours. What’d you find?”

  He looked up from his desk that was covered with the piles of evidence and testimonies they’d been going through. “Something’s been nagging me ever since we were at the Dillinger home. There was a man in a suit, talking with a woman in the living room. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

  “Where?”

  He leaned back and caught her gaze, his sandwich forgotten. “Remember a couple years ago, when we had to tell the Kerrigans that we’d found their daughter’s body?”

  “I’ve never been able to forget it.”

  “There was a large group of friends and family at their house as well. They were all sitting around. People were coming and going to give their condolences to the family. That’s where I saw him. He didn’t have the goatee and his hair was a bit lighter, but it was him.”

  “That was two years ago,” Jordan said. “Are you sure?”

  “I know it’s been a long time, but there’s more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was at the vigil for Sarah Boyd.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jordan set her wrap down on his desk and stared at his computer screen. “Are you sure?”

  He scrolled down to the news brief he’d dug up from the archives. “Watch this.”

  He clicked on the arrow and replayed the video. A reporter was standing outside the school where Sarah Boyd had disappeared.

  “Authorities with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation have asked for the public’s assistance in finding a missing sixteen-year-old. Sarah Boyd was last seen getting into a black sedan after school yesterday afternoon. Many believe that this case could be tied to the notorious Angel Abductor, who continues to terrorize Eastern Tennessee. But according to the latest reports, authorities are still no closer to finding the person behind these horrible abductions and murders.”

  “This is a candlelight vigil that was held for Sarah back in May of 2005, four days after she disappeared.”

  “Okay . . . I’m still not sure what you’re looking at. I’ve seen this footage before. We never found anything significant.”

  He paused the video, then tapped on the screen. “That’s him, at Sarah Boyd’s vigil. And I saw him at both the Kerrigan home and today, at Marissa Dillinger’s home. Tell me the odds that he just happened to know the three families whose daughters have vanished, and that he was simply there to give his condolences.”

  “The odds aren’t high, granted, but it’s not impossible.” Jordan leaned closer to the screen and frowned. “And while this guy looks a bit like the man we saw today, the video’s too grainy to make a positive ID. Do you have a name?”

  “Not yet.”

  “And you honestly think he could be our kidnapper?”

  “Think about it, Jordan. It’s not unusual at all for the perpetrator to return to show up at something like this.”

  She shook her head and frowned. “I still think you’re pulling at straws. I see the resemblance, but I’m still not convinced that this is the guy we saw today. It seems too much like a—”

  “Like a coincidence? I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences.”

  Jordan frowned. “I don’t, but—”

  “I can find out who he is, bring him in, and see what he has to say.”

  “On what charges?”

  “No charges. Just as a person of interest.”

  “What about this other lead? Sam wants us to move on it now.”

  Garrett was back to staring at the screen.

  “Fine. I’ll go follow up on the witness Sam gave us,” Jordan said. “You go with your gut.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t normally do fieldwork.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” she said, picking up her wrap and taking a bite. “I think I can handle an interview.”

  “Okay.”

  “How are you going to find him?” she asked.

  “I’m going back to the Dillinger home. Someone there should know who he is.”

  “You think Sam and Parks will go for this?”

  “They don’t have to know,” Garrett said, grabbing his coat and the rest of his sandwich. “Let me find out who he is, and then I’ll tell them.”

  17

  January 19

  2:53 p.m.

  Tennessee Bureau of Investigation

  Garrett headed out of the bureau headquarters lobby toward his car, thankful that the predictions for snow had been cancelled. The last thing they needed right now was a string of dreary wet weather. It was only January, and he was already anticipating spring.

  “Chasing a lead on our killer?”

  Garrett stopped at the familiar face. “Nikki Boyd. I heard through the grapevine that congratulations are in order on your graduation from the academy.”

  The disappearance of her sister had been all the motivation Nikki had needed to turn in both her resignation to her principal and an application to the police department. Not long after that, she’d entered the police academy training program.

  “I’m
now officially a rookie, but thanks,” she said, stopping in front of him. “That’s not why I’m here, though. I heard that another girl’s gone missing. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “I’m on my way out,” Garrett said, “but you can walk with me to my car. I’m on my way now to follow up a lead.”

  “Do you think he took her?”

  He knew all too well who he was. And he wished he had something to give her. “We don’t know at this point what happened to Marissa Dillinger.”

  Nikki followed him across the parking lot. “I left everything I knew to join the police academy because I had this crazy idea that it would put me in a better position to find my sister. I spend every free moment going over phone calls and leads that have come in, trying to find something—anything—that might have been overlooked, all while trying to keep my sister’s face in front of the media and the public. I’ve been researching every abductor and serial killer case across the state, trying to see if there might be a connection. I just need you to understand that I’ll do anything to find Sarah. Whatever it takes. But it’s been eight months, and we’re no closer to finding out who took her than we were the day she disappeared.”

  “I understand you’re frustrated that we haven’t found your sister, because I’m just as frustrated. We’re doing everything in our power to find Sarah and the guy who took her, so we can bring closure to the other families.”

  “But now it’s happened again,” she said. “Another girl is missing. When is this going to end?”

  “I understand—”

  “I don’t think you do understand,” she said. “You don’t have children. My mother’s not sleeping at night. My parents are struggling with their marriage and wondering if they should shut down the restaurant. It’s like a nightmare that you never wake up from. It’s been eight months, and you haven’t found anything. No solid leads. You can’t even tell me if my sister’s dead or alive.”

  Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. He had no idea what to say. She was right. He didn’t understand. And saying he was sorry didn’t do anything to help her find her sister.