Gone without a Trace

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Gone without a Trace Page 8

by Patricia Bradley


  The closer she got to Logan Point, the more Robyn wondered if she’d lost her mind. What if someone recognized her? What if the man who abducted her recognized her? But the desire to see her daughter overrode all her doubts and planted another question. What would it take to go home? More strength than she had right now. But one day . . .

  She refocused her thoughts and laid out a plan. It was a beautiful day and warm for February, so a lot of people would be stirring, maybe enough that she wouldn’t stand out in a strange car. She checked her watch. She should arrive in Logan Point before school let out. Maybe she could drive by and see Abby standing in the parking lot. Or, if she arrived early enough and Abby still had recess her last class period, she might even be on the playground. Robyn could drive by on the street that ran parallel to the school and possibly see her daughter.

  She arrived in Logan Point a little after two and stopped at the McDonald’s near the bypass and fortified herself with a cup of coffee. At two thirty, she drove past the playground filled with fifth graders practicing soccer.

  So many. Impossible to tell which one was Abby. Or if it was even her class. Wait. A soccer ball rolled toward the fence that kept the children from running out into the street. A blonde-haired girl ran to get it, and for a tiny second their eyes met before the girl kicked the ball back to the group. Abby. Robyn’s heart beat so fast she thought it would jump out of her chest.

  Seeing her was like an addictive drug. Now she wanted to see her again. But she didn’t dare drive past the playground again. She turned at the next street and drove to the service station across from the school and waited, hoping no one would notice her.

  Robyn glanced toward the playground. The students had gone in. It must be almost time for school to dismiss. Yes. Cars had begun to line up, and an SUV she recognized joined the line. Livy. She had expected her mother to pick Abby up, not her cousin. She slid down in the seat. The cop in Livy would notice anything unusual. Now she was afraid to follow them. She’d thought that perhaps if her mother made a stop, like Walmart or the grocery, she could observe her daughter again. But Livy was a different story.

  The line began to move quickly, and Livy’s SUV passed by again with Livy driving and a man in the passenger seat. Robyn hadn’t seen a second person in the car earlier. But Abby was in the backseat. In spite of her fear, the lure of being close to her daughter pulled her out of the parking lot. She expected Livy to turn right at the stop sign—toward home—but she turned left. Where was she going? The park. It was nearby. Abby must have talked Livy into taking her.

  She couldn’t believe her luck and followed them into the park and around to the lake, parking some distance from where they pulled in. Robyn sat in the car for a few minutes, watching as Abby ran down to a bench near the water’s edge. Livy and a man who towered over her cousin trailed after her. Livy carried a paper sack. Bread for the ducks, she’d bet.

  Robyn grabbed the camera she’d brought, thinking she might use the long lens to capture a shot of Abby, but this was so much closer than she ever thought she’d get. She snapped several from inside the car, but then she hung the camera around her neck and grabbed her purse. If she could just get a little nearer. She climbed out of the car and walked toward a bench near where Abby threw bread for ducks to gobble up.

  Several people passed her on the walk, and she glanced around as a light wind touched her cheek. Quite a few people had taken advantage of the warm temperature and had come to the park to walk. A few people had their dogs on leashes. She glanced up at the blue sky interwoven with streaks of white plumes from planes taking off and landing at the airport in Memphis. She dropped her gaze to four teens throwing Frisbees. And Abby stood less than a hundred feet from her with Livy and the man Robyn didn’t recognize.

  Robyn had thought she could do this. Sneak into Logan Point, get a glimpse of her daughter, and then leave. Now she wasn’t so sure. Seeing Abby and Livy made her want more. She wanted to gather her daughter in her arms and never let her go. She wanted to see her mom and dad and Chase. The vault where she kept those desires cracked open. Maybe she could return. Maybe Chase would believe her.

  Movement overhead caught her eye as a bird swooped in front of her car. A red-tailed hawk. Her muscles tensed as it dove like a missile to the ground where a small squirrel hunted for acorns.

  “No!” Robyn waved her arms. Too late. The hawk grabbed the squirrel in its talons. A scream came from somewhere to her left. She hurled the only thing she had in her hands. Her purse. The startled bird released the squirrel and flapped back.

  “Get away, bird!” Abby’s scream froze Robyn as the girl ran toward her.

  The hawk abandoned all thought of its prey, and the squirrel took off to a nearby oak. “I think the squirrel is safe,” Robyn said, keeping her voice low. What if someone recognized her voice? She’d perfected her boss’s Virginia accent, but still . . .

  Abby bent over and picked up Robyn’s purse. “You saved him,” she said, handing her the purse.

  By now, Livy had reached them. “Good throw.”

  Robyn could not still her heart that had taken off like a jet. “I’ve never seen that happen before,” she said.

  “Sometimes those red-tailed hawks can be quite bold.”

  Yeah. Like the man who abducted her. The hawk had looked exactly like the tattoo she’d seen on his body. Why couldn’t she remember where on his body? She risked a glance at Livy and almost didn’t breathe. Her cousin was staring at her.

  Livy held out her hand. “I’m Livy Reynolds, and the young lady here is Abby Martin.” She waved to the man who had remained behind. “And that is Alex Jennings.”

  Robyn shook Livy’s hand. “Susan Carpenter,” she said, borrowing from her boss again. She faltered when Abby held out her hand, and then took it, imprinting the warmth of Abby’s small fingers in her brain. “Thank you for getting my purse. Well, I better be going.”

  “You’re not from around here,” Livy said.

  “No.” Robyn slid her wedding band back and forth on her finger. If it were anyone other than Livy, she would dismiss the statement as curiosity. Somehow she’d aroused Livy’s suspicion. “I’m on my way to Memphis for a job interview.”

  “I live in Memphis. Who are you applying with?”

  She searched for a name. “FedEx.”

  Livy nodded. “Good company. You remind me of someone, just can’t put my finger on who.” Suddenly enlightenment reflected in her face. “My cousin. You remind me of my cousin.”

  Robyn froze, not daring to breathe. “R-really?”

  “Yes. She’s a missionary in Mexico.” She turned to Abby. “Doesn’t she remind you of your aunt Bailey?”

  Abby cocked her head to the side, studying Robyn. “A little bit.”

  Robyn wasn’t sure she could speak. She had to say something that would be opposite of what Robyn would say. “Lucky her. They say we all have a double.”

  Livy chuckled. “Yeah. What made you stop here at the park? I mean, it’s a little out of the way if you’re going to Memphis.”

  “Excuse me?” At least Livy blushed while Robyn searched for a plausible reason to be here.

  “I’m sorry. I tend to ask too many questions sometimes.”

  “I do have to leave.” She smiled at Abby. “Maybe the hawk won’t come back.”

  “Did you stop to take pictures?” Abby pointed to the camera around her neck.

  Now Abby was curious. The question needed to be settled or it could look as though she had something to hide. Which she did. “Not really. I’ve been driving a long time and thought maybe walking a little would stretch my legs. I asked at McDonald’s if there was a park nearby. And voila, here I am. It was nice meeting you both.”

  She turned and forced herself to walk slowly back to her car. She’d bet her blood pressure was at stroking level. When she slid behind the steering wheel, she noticed Livy and Abby had followed her. She waved, and they waved back. She pressed her hand against her lips. Just g
et out of the car. Tell Livy, explain what happened thirty months ago. A mental picture flashed in her mind—the hawk swooping to grab the squirrel, bold as daylight. Just like her kidnapper.

  She held back the tears until she was out of the park. She didn’t want to be afraid. She wanted her life back. But how did she stop living in fear when she didn’t know who her abductor was?

  8

  Alex shifted on the concrete bench. He had only one reason for being in Logan Point, and that was to find Samantha Jo, and sitting at a park was not getting it done. He’d been a little surprised when Livy wanted to stop at a convenience store and pick up bread before going to the school. To feed the ducks, she’d said. At the park. That was when he figured out she planned to take her niece somewhere other than home. He had to stay sharp to follow her conversation sometimes.

  He reviewed what they’d learned at Johnny B’s. Jason was in love with or at least had a crush on Samantha Jo, but he didn’t seem her type. A hunter and trapper. Visions of frontier days flashed in his mind. Alex didn’t know people still trapped wild game. But Livy had explained after they left that mostly all Jason trapped was beaver, and only because they were such a nuisance. Alex wasn’t sure how he felt about a taxidermy business. He’d never liked the moose head that hung in his grandfather’s den.

  The other two men seemed nice enough. Timothy, along with Jason, appeared to be in his early thirties, and Bobby clearly was older, in his late thirties. All three of the men believed she’d taken off for Nashville. Tomorrow, he’d fly up there and make the rounds of record producers to see if she’d made contact with any of them. Leave her photo too. Perhaps if she showed up, they would contact him.

  His gut told him she hadn’t gone to Nashville. If she had, those expensive clothes would have gone with her. A girl like Samantha Jo didn’t go off and leave a tie-dyed sweater that cost over three hundred dollars. And then there were those cases of the waitresses who’d been abducted and released. He took out his phone and called Ben Logan. When he answered, Alex asked if he’d learned anything about the cases.

  “Not yet,” Ben said. “There were too many customers at each of the diners who could have administered the drug. The detectives in each state are faxing their reports. After I read those, I’ll send one of my deputies to interview the waitresses.”

  “Do you know if any of the regulars at those diners have quit coming?”

  “If that information isn’t in the reports, I’ll definitely send Wade to find out.”

  “If you’ll clear the way, I’ll fly to Nashville tomorrow and see if I can interview the waitress there.” He preferred a firsthand report any day over a written one.

  “I’ll call the detective working the case and let him know you’re coming,” Ben said.

  Alex told Ben he’d be in touch and disconnected, then checked on Livy. He couldn’t help but notice the difference in her when she was around her niece. Lighter. That’s what she was. Although at this particular moment, she seemed puzzled as she and Abby walked toward the parking lot. They waved to a woman who was backing out, then after the car pulled away, Livy took out her phone and seemed to be texting.

  As Livy and Abby walked toward him, he took the opportunity to watch her without being obvious about it. She wasn’t like most women he knew. The wind had tousled her hair, but that didn’t seem to bother her. Earlier today, he’d seen a photo that looked like it’d been taken when her hair was much shorter, spiky even, and blonde. The look she’d given the camera was sassy. Sassy. That was what he liked about her. With a start, he realized he’d better be careful about liking her at all.

  As the tan Camry backed out of the parking spot, Livy used her phone to key in the license plate number on the front of the car. She turned to Abby. “Do you want to run get the bag we left at the bench?”

  Abby ran to retrieve the bag, and Livy dialed a friend at the Department of Motor Vehicles. After she answered, Livy gave her the license number. “It’s a Virginia tag.”

  “Can I call you back? I’m swamped right this minute.”

  “Sure.” She hung up and tapped her phone against her palm. Something was off about this whole scenario. And she couldn’t shake the feeling she knew this Susan Carpenter. Was it that she looked a little like her cousin Bailey? Except her cousin had darker blonde hair, whereas this Susan’s was almost platinum, but some of her mannerisms were like Bailey’s. But it was more than that. A gut instinct. But about what? Abby returned, and she took her by the hand and walked toward Alex. She’d bet he was chomping at the bit to leave.

  “Are you ready?” he asked when they reached him.

  “Um, yes.” She’d been right. Livy glanced back to where the car had been parked.

  “Who was the lady?”

  “She said her name was Susan Carpenter.”

  “She was nice,” Abby said.

  “Yes, she was. Do you want to run get in the backseat and buckle up?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Alex didn’t say anything until Abby was out of earshot. “Something bothering you about the woman?”

  “Am I that obvious? The whole thing seemed weird. She was nervous. And I can’t figure out what she was doing here.” Livy slowed her pace, wanting to get a handle on her thoughts before she drove Abby home. The kid could pick up on worry better than she could.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She had Virginia tags—I’ve called the tag number in to DMV—and said she’d been driving a while and wanted to stretch her legs. But why did she drive all the way to the park when she could have simply walked around any of the fast-food parking lots just off the bypass? And why did she come through Mississippi from Virginia when it would’ve made more sense to go through Nashville?”

  “You’d make a good cop,” he said.

  “You think?” Livy eyed him. She never knew when he was serious. His chiseled lips curved into a smile, and her heart quickened when he winked at her. She’d noticed before how thick the lashes that fringed his eyes were. So not fair for a man to have thicker lashes than she did. She drew her gaze from his face. This was not good. She couldn’t let his looks distract her. Where was she? Susan. “I got the strangest vibes . . . like I know her from somewhere. At first I thought it was because she looked like my cousin Bailey, but it’s more than that.”

  “I didn’t get a good look at her. I noticed she was a little taller than you, but what’d she look like?”

  “I think it was those wedge shoes that made her taller. Straight blonde hair—I liked her hairstyle.” She might try that all-one-length style the next time she had the urge to cut her hair. “She had brownish, hazel eyes.”

  Livy’s cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID. “My friend in DMV.” She answered. “What’d you find?”

  “A tan Camry registered to one Susan Carpenter in Bristol, Virginia. No outstanding warrants.”

  “Thanks. Do you mind emailing me a copy?” Her friend agreed to send the information, and Livy hung up.

  “Find out anything?”

  “The tag confirms she’s who she said she was. Susan Carpenter.” Livy relayed the rest of the conversation. “I think I’ll google this Susan Carpenter and see what I can find out about her.”

  Abby climbed out of the SUV and waved. “Aunt Livy, are we going home or can I play some more?”

  “We’re going home.”

  As they drove out of the park, Abby spoke up. “I like that lady. She smelled like Mom.”

  She glanced at Abby in her rearview mirror. “What do you mean?”

  “When I handed her the purse, I could smell the perfume Mom used to wear.”

  “Really, honey?” Livy said.

  Abby nodded. “Are we going to Nana’s or is Daddy home yet?”

  Livy exchanged glances with Alex. “Nana’s. Did the woman look familiar to you, Abby?”

  “A little.”

  An hour later, Livy leaned over her laptop with Alex sitting beside her. She typed Susan Carpente
r, then Bristol, Virginia, into Google. Several hits returned.

  “This Susan person gets in the newspaper a lot.”

  “Yeah.” Livy clicked on a link, and when the link came up, she skimmed the article. She clicked another link, and a photograph of a dark-skinned woman in her sixties popped up. The caption read “Susan Carpenter at ribbon-cutting ceremony.” “That’s not the woman we saw today.”

  “You sure?” He glanced at the photo. “Oh no, I don’t suppose it is. Did your query bring up any other women by that name in the Bristol area?”

  She clicked back to the original query. “No, all the links are connected to the Susan Carpenter associated with the Wings of Hope Ministry.”

  Alex typed on his tablet. “The Tennessee-Virginia line splits Bristol and is a little over an hour and a half from here by air. You want to take a little trip?”

  She swallowed. “Fly?”

  “It’s the only way I know to get there in an hour and a half. It’ll take the lady you met today over seven hours to drive it. We could be there and have the situation checked out before she arrives in Bristol.”

  “But it’ll be dark soon.”

  “I’m both IFR and VFR rated. I have—”

  “What’s IFR rated? And VFR?”

  “Visual Flight Rules. Instrument Flight Rules. I’m rated for either one. I also have a private pilot license, and I’m a certified flight instructor.” He typed on the tablet again, and after a pause looked up. “And the weather is perfect for flying. Full moon, no fronts, no storms, no clouds expected here or Bristol. What do you say?”

  She still didn’t know what the two acronyms meant. Perhaps if she’d paid more attention when her dad tried to talk to her about flying, she would know. But her mom had passed her fear of flying on to Livy, and she’d never wanted anything to do with planes or flying.

  And now Alex wanted her to fly at night. In a small plane. No was on the tip of her tongue, but what if the woman she met today was Robyn? For the first time, Livy allowed the question to surface. She hadn’t looked like her cousin. The last time she saw Robyn, she weighed at least fifty pounds more than the woman today. And had curly red hair. Dye and a flat iron. She’d had hazel eyes, and Robyn’s eyes were bright blue. Contacts.

 

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