by Mary Stone
Ellie screamed, flailing her arms and kicking, trying to break free of her captor’s grip.
“That’s right, puppet. Scream! No one can hear you.”
She felt a pinch at her shoulder, and the world started to dim. Her voice wouldn’t come out of her mouth anymore, and her body started to melt. Muscles heavy, she sank against him, bile rising in her throat. Struggling to breathe, she was frantic. She tried to speak, choking instead.
“What’s that, puppet?” He was taunting her. “Are you trying to say something?” Light glinted off the needle of the syringe he held in his hand.
She was freezing, the cold creeping from her fingertips and toes and moving inward to her spine with frightening speed. She opened her mouth again, forcing herself to speak even as grayness crept in, and her thoughts grew jumbled.
“You don’t know my name,” she managed, just before the world went silent.
“You don’t know my name.” Ellie gasped, dragging herself out of the darkness, mouth wide as if coming up from the depths of the ocean for air. “He didn’t know my name.” Blurting out the words was all she could manage before collapsing against the couch, her breathing heavy, heart pounding painfully against her ribs.
Powell’s forehead wrinkled, and he leaned closer. “What?”
Ellie heard the rustle of paper as Powell flipped to the next page, but she was focused on the back seat of the dark car. “He didn’t know my name.”
“Okay. Can you explain what you mean by that?”
“My parents were convinced that I was kidnapped for ransom, and the kidnappers were unsuccessful when I escaped.” Powell nodded, patiently waiting for her to finish. “My parents hired round-the-clock bodyguards, even though I didn’t know about them most of the time, so whoever took me wouldn’t try again. They never told me because someone who only wanted money would move on to another target.”
“I don’t follow,” Powell said with a tilt of his head as he watched her. “He didn’t know your name and—”
“If he kidnapped me for a ransom, how would he not know my name?”
Powell blinked, and his lips parted. “Oh. You’re absolutely right. He would’ve known who you were, or he would have had no reason to kidnap you in the first place.”
“Not for ransom, at least. Kidnap for ransom is premeditated, sometimes being carried out by the kidnapper calling the person by name to distract while someone else swoops in and catches them by surprise. But a kidnapping of opportunity has always fit better. He tried to win my trust, and when that didn’t work, he pounced. I told my parents when I was young, it wasn’t for ransom, but they didn’t listen.”
“You couldn’t remember what happened.” Powell’s voice was even and soothing. “And when the children of rich families disappear, it’s almost always about money.”
“I don’t blame them for jumping to the most logical conclusion.” She frowned, lost halfway between her scattered memories and Powell’s office. “The theory never made sense to me, and I told them as much then. But I was young, and my parents were so convinced of my naiveté. They couldn’t believe a fifteen-year-old would have that sort of sense about what had happened. When I tried to explain that I just knew, they asked how I could know anything if I couldn’t remember what had happened to me.”
“Sometimes, the memory of the way someone made us feel is stronger than anything they did.”
“Right.” Ellie nodded. “I felt like every interaction that night was him getting to know me, breaking down my walls so I would get into the car with him. But even if he only knew me from my public appearances, he should’ve at least known my name. That would’ve made me an easier target.”
“I agree with you.” Powell’s pen scratched over the bottom of another page before he flung it up and folded it behind the notebook. “What else did you see?”
She shook her head. “Just little snippets of the abduction and being in the car. He drugged me, and he wasn’t alone, but the other person didn’t help. He was just driving.”
“Was your kidnapper’s face any clearer?”
“It wasn’t your face this time, if that’s what you’re asking. His features were blank.”
“Blank?” Dr. Powell glanced up at her, scrutinizing her face.
“Like a mannequin in a department store. Smooth, with no distinct features. He didn’t have a mouth, but he spoke clearly.”
“Did he have an accent?”
Ellie thought back to the voice, holding back a shiver. “Not that I noticed.”
“What about word usage?”
“No.” She held in a sigh, already getting impatient with analyzing details she’d just remembered. It still wasn’t enough. “He just seemed very sure of himself.”
“Arrogant?”
“No.” She shook her head, forcing herself to run over the memory again. “I mean, yes, it was, but he didn’t come off as arrogant. There was no showiness. Like he just expected things to go his way, as if they always did.”
“Entitled.”
She thought about the description for a moment. “Maybe.”
“Did you get the feeling that he was wealthy? What kind of car was it?”
“I couldn’t figure out the make or model. It was just a car.”
“It’s possible that your mind has inserted a generic car until it can remember what the real car looked like. Kind of the way your mind heard me say something similar to what the abductor said, then inserted me into the memory.” Dr. Powell set the pen on the side table and smiled at her. “Luckily, aging has been hard enough on me that it’s obvious a fifteen-year-younger me wasn’t in that car.”
“I get what you’re saying, but it still doesn’t make much sense.”
“Which part doesn’t make sense?”
“All of it? None of it?” She stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts. “I don’t honestly know. I’ve remembered so much, but only as far as the abduction. There’s nothing I can use to find out who this man was.”
“You’re making progress.”
“It doesn’t feel like progress.” She took in a deep breath through her nose, blowing it out her mouth, mentally forcing some of the tension out with it. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like the gaping holes are shrinking, but the memories are still mostly empty. I feel like I’m picking up random book pages and piecing the story together without page numbers—the plot is getting clearer, but I’m still missing a big chunk of the story.”
“It will come to you.”
“You keep saying that.”
Powell arched an eyebrow. “Have I not been right?”
Ellie chuckled, her abdomen muscles relaxing a little. “You have. It’s not how I want it to happen, though, and patience is not my strong suit.”
“You’ve waited almost half your life to learn the truth of what happened that weekend. Hastening the process will only make it harder to recover. It’s normal for you to want an explanation for the time you lost.”
“Nothing about this is normal. The memories taunt me throughout the day, and when I’m falling asleep, I hear little snippets of things he said to me. When I try to focus on them, they disappear. I don’t have control over my own brain, and that pisses me off.” Mentally cursing herself, she let her head fall back on the pillow. She hadn’t meant to tell him all that.
“Understandable.” Powell glanced at the clock and gave Ellie a tender smile. “I think that’s enough for one day. Go home and get some rest. We had a good session today, but your brain is probably overwhelmed. You may have flashbacks tonight, so be prepared for that. As scary as they are, they are a positive thing and a sign that your mind is finally ready to unpack the baggage it has been hiding all these years. If you remember anything else, write it down and bring it to me in the morning if you want to talk again.”
Ellie shook her head. “The search starts at six tomorrow morning.”
“The search?”
“I’m investigating a cold case. A man
was shot in Bartlett Woods. It turns out that he wasn’t the only possible victim, so we’re hoping to find a second body up there. I would go up there myself today, but by the time I do, it will be dark, and it’s better if I wait until the search and recovery team is there.”
“So, there’s no chance of finding the victim alive?”
Ellie shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Powell’s eyes widened. “That’s disturbing. I hope you find her so her family can have some closure.”
“That’s why I do what I do.”
“Luckily, there’s someone like you with a passion for the forgotten.”
Powell’s words brought a smile to her face. “I’ll see you in a week or two. And if I have any dreams or more memories surface, I’ll stop by.”
“My door is always open.” He got up from the chair and walked her to the door.
“I know. Thank you. It’s hard for me to trust anyone after that night. It’s nice to know I have a safe space to dredge all this up.”
He smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad I can be there for you.”
She walked down the hall with a smile on her face, feeling more optimistic despite the weight of the vibrant images still floating around in her head. She was going to get through this, and she had Dr. Powell to thank. Without him, she wouldn’t be making this progress.
The missing piece of the puzzle was within reach, she could feel it.
All she had to do was stay the course and trust Powell to guide her through the darkness and into the light.
13
Ellie was on her second cup of coffee when she pulled up to the impromptu basecamp for John Doe’s—suspected to be Ben Brooks’s—body site. The sun rising was barely peeking through the trees, but the house at the base of the hill was already buzzing with activity.
Cutting the engine, she spotted Tucker Penland amid crime scene techs and officers. When he waved and headed her way, she reached into the back seat to retrieve his jacket.
“Thank you.” He took the coat and folded it over his arm. “It’s nice to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” He held up the coat. “Are you sure you won’t be needin’ it today?”
She smiled, hoping he wasn’t flirting. “I learned my lesson. I’m dressed for the cold and ready to get going. I can’t thank you enough for letting us use your property as a staging area. It’s much better than setting up in town.”
“I don’t mind at all.” He took a few steps toward his porch and tossed the jacket onto the railing. “The area around my house is just about the only place the ground is level. It doesn’t make sense to set up anywhere else. I just wish I could help in the search.” He turned his attention to the group waiting near a table covered with the maps and grid assignments as he stroked his beard. “It looks like you have enough hands on deck, though.”
“I hope you understand. We can’t have civilians helping and risk compromising evidence.” She bit the inside of her lip and sighed. “Not that people tramping through the forest for the past couple years hasn’t done that already.”
“I’m not offended. Lucky for you, Bartlett Woods isn’t as popular as some of the other trails near Charleston. It takes too long to drive here, and the terrain is a bit too rugged for city folk.”
“Maybe that will work in our favor.”
“My fingers are crossed.” He nodded, tipping his ball cap. “Y’all knock on my door if you need anything. Don’t guess I can get through all these parked cars to go anywhere, anyhow.”
“Perfect time to catch up on your favorite show.”
“You be careful out there, Detective Kline. Good luck findin’ whatever it is you’re lookin’ for.”
“Kline, over here!” Fortis called out, pulling her attention away. When she turned back, Tucker was already walking through his front door, letting the screen slam shut behind him as he disappeared.
She jogged over to the table lined with neat stacks of paper and covered by a three-sided canopy. “I’m here.” She took the map Fortis handed her. “Which grid am I on?”
Fortis shook his head. “None. It’s your investigation, so you’re overseeing the searchers. Here’s your clipboard and a copy of the checklist. Every officer’s name is listed beside their grid number. I’ll man the table and help where I’m needed, but this is your show, Kline.”
Her chest filled with an emotion that threatened to leak out of her eyes. She focused on the clipboard to get herself under control. “Thank you, sir.”
“No need to thank me. That was damn fine work connecting John Doe to a second victim. More victims mean more evidence.”
“Thank you, but it was Jillian who helped lead us to Valerie Price.”
“Thorough and modest.” Fortis smiled at her approvingly, his light hazel eyes gleaming. “I like it. Good luck today.”
She could see that Jillian was going to get no credit, no matter what she said. “Thanks. We need all the luck we can get.”
Footsteps crunched in the gravel before a man appeared around the side of the canopy. His khaki uniform and name badge gave him away, but Ellie thrust out her hand anyway, smiling as he joined them. “Hello, I’m Detective Kline.”
“Thomas Patton, from U.S. Fish and Wildlife.” The game warden gave a sharp nod of his head.
“Wildlife Officer Patton will be on hand to help you out,” Fortis explained.
“We’ll make sure not to destroy any habitat.” Ellie smiled at the man as his dark eyes measured her.
“I’m not here to tell y’all how to do your jobs. I’m just here to lend a hand if you find any bones.” Officer Patton hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Some animal bones are a lot like human bones if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
Fortis clapped a hand onto Patton’s shoulder. “Between Officer Patton and Tom, we should be able to avoid wasting Dr. Faizal’s time with remains that aren’t human.” When Ellie quirked a brow, Fortis pointed to a tall, lanky man near the edge of the first grid. “Dr. Faizal’s assistant, Tom Blankenship. I can introduce you if you want.”
“No need. I sort of met him at the medical examiner’s office.” Ellie tried to keep her smile under control. Tom was the clumsy man who’d dropped all his papers outside the M.E.’s office. She’d bet he wouldn’t be real happy to see her. “I’m sure he remembers me.”
“Good. I’ll leave you to it. Handheld radios are set on channel one.”
She nodded and moved to the edge of the Penland property, where the search had already begun. Between the dormant trees was a line of officers moving slowly, their eyes on the ground in front of them. They had miles to cover, and no way of knowing what they would find. The search was a long shot, but there was always a chance they would get lucky and find what they needed and more.
Maybe we’ll find the bullet, she thought, but she knew the chances were almost nil. If they could find some type of evidence of Valerie being in the area as well, or even her body, and prove two murders were connected, there might be enough evidence to piece together to find the killer.
When an officer paused and raised her hand, Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. She hurried over to where the woman was standing.
“There’s a bone.” The officer pointed at the spot when Ellie was just a couple yards away.
Ellie called for the photographer, keeping three feet between herself and the potential evidence as the necessary pictures were taken. In the center of the space, just visible, a pitted off-white object was partially buried.
The crime scene photographer circled, making sure to photograph every angle before stepping into the area immediately surrounding the bone. Squatting down until her heels rested against the back of her legs, Ellie took notes on the bone before she waved Tom and Officer Patton over.
Officer Patton got there first. He used a tool that looked like a knife to loosen the dirt before turning the bone with the tip of his blade as he inspected it. “It’s a small animal vertebra. Most likely a
fox.”
Tom walked up just as Officer Patton was giving his opinion. Tom gave Ellie a single, serious nod. “I concur.”
The officer who’d found the bone shrugged. “Is there a way to tell the difference?”
“Not that I can train you on in one morning.” Officer Patton cast a glance at Tom.
Ellie caught the smirk that passed over Tom’s face, but the young officer missed it. When Tom glanced Ellie’s way, she narrowed her eyes at him, and the smile faded from his face.
She turned her attention back to the officer and gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re not here to be an expert on bone identification. You’re doing an excellent job. Keep up the good work.”
A look passed between the two men, but Ellie ignored it. She knew the type—smug, and assuming they were intellectually superior.
When the female officer was a few steps away, she crooked her finger at Tom and Officer Patton, leading them out of earshot of the searching officers. “I know you two are experts in your field, but we’re working together. That officer might not be as book smart as the two of you, but I’ve seen her take down a perp. You don’t want to mess with her.” Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Ellie silenced him with a raised hand. “Don’t. I don’t care for an explanation. The fact is that Dr. Faizal can run circles around all of us, yet she still manages to treat people with respect. If you can’t, I’ll bring in another expert, and you can both leave.”
Neither of them liked what she had to say, but she didn’t care. She was running her first search and there was still a great deal to do.
The morning passed quickly as find after find was bagged and labeled as evidence to be sent to the lab. Most of it probably wouldn’t pan out—old candy wrappers, newspapers that were nearly decomposed, even bits of cloth—but still had to be collected and gone over further.
They were deep in the woods near the body site, and Ellie was ignoring her grumbling stomach when an officer called out to her.
The officer waved frantically at her from the hill above, and Ellie lengthened her stride, straining her legs as she jogged up the incline. When she got closer, she slowed, following the officer’s gaze. At the base of a young tree, a single root had grown through the void in the middle of a brittle looking discolored piece of bone with a scooped side.