Maybe I should touch something of Greeley’s, so I could feel the same about him. But not before I ate some protein—a huge steak at the least, or maybe two chicken breasts. I’d read a lot of imprints already today, and even thinking about reading more was exhausting, especially if they were anything like the last one on John Doe’s shirt. Protein was as good as positive imprints to restore my strength.
“You know,” Shannon said to me as we followed Greeley, “Hayesville would be the perfect place to set up a drug smuggling operation. Near enough all the conveniences offered by a city like Salem, but far enough away to slip under the radar. We may have stumbled onto something really big. I hope their narc guys are as good as ours.”
“I’m just interested in Jenny,” I said.
Shannon’s eyes told me he didn’t believe me.
“Okay, and Cody, too.” I didn’t have time to say more because Commander Huish was coming our way. “The FBI is here with the Vandykes’ computer. They’ve finished with it and come up empty. It’s cleared for you to see.”
“What about the boot?” Shannon asked. “They bring it, too?”
“Actually, no.” The commander’s gaze shifted to Greeley. “How we coming on that?”
“Still tracking it.” Greeley shrugged one broad shoulder. “I’ll check with Celia and see how it’s going. But I wanted to let you know I sent Levine and Schmidt to pick up that clerk who was wounded this morning.” He explained Cody’s recognition of Bremer and the possibility that the attack at the gas station wasn’t random. “It’s a long shot, and it probably means nothing. We don’t even have proof that Bremer was involved in the stabbing.” This he spoke with a hard glance at me. “But I thought we’d cover all our bases.”
Huish only nodded. “Good call. Maybe we’ll catch a break. Meanwhile, we’ve located Mrs. Vandyke’s former husband. The FBI has a warrant to search his house in Portland and are questioning him now, but none of his neighbors have noticed anything out of the ordinary. We’re not counting him out, but at the outset it doesn’t look as if he’s involved. They’re still checking to see if he has any other properties or a remote place where he might take a child.”
“Wish I could interview him myself,” Greeley said. I was thinking the same thing, but that didn’t mean I liked Greeley any more for it.
“It might come to that.” Huish flashed the briefest of smiles. “For now let’s concentrate on finding the child’s real biological father. If he’s back in prison, that changes everything. No sense having a child kidnapped if you’re in prison.”
Huish led the way to the room where the FBI agents were still with the Vandykes. “Meet Liz Cross and Ben Morley,” Huish said as they rose to meet us. “They’re the FBI special agents investigating Jenny’s disappearance.”
“Two of the agents,” Cross corrected. “We have more on the case.” She was a beautiful blonde with ultrashort hair and a hawklike nose that was more striking than ugly. Agent Morley could have been Greeley’s twin, except for the face that was narrow compared to his muscled bulk. Both agents were in plain clothes, but the weapons at their waists were conspicuous.
Shannon offered his hand. “Detective Shannon Martin, Portland Police Bureau.”
“You’ve already met Detective Sergeant Greeley,” Huish added to the agents, indicating Greeley. “He’s still running point on our end.”
More hand shaking, and then gazes shifted to me. “Autumn Rain.” I’d left my gloves in my coat pocket so I didn’t offer my hand.
“She’s the one who reads things.” Gail Vandyke came to her feet.
Agent Cross smiled, looking predatory. “Psychometry. Yes, I’ve heard of it. You read people, too?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t—oh, we’re both wearing rings.”
Exactly. I was saving what was left of my energy for the Vandykes’ computer.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Cross said. Apparently, she was the senior of the two agents, or at least the more communicative one. “We need every bit of help we can get, though already you’ve been a great help.” Her eyes went briefly to the Vandykes.
Agent Morley added, “We weren’t able to get anything special from the computer. Unfortunately some things were erased, and we weren’t able to retrieve the information. We can’t verify that Jenny was talking with someone over the Internet.”
Their acceptance of my ability instead of mistrust and suspicion was unexpected, especially from someone as confident and together as Agent Cross. The only other person to react that way had been Shannon’s partner, Tracy.
I stifled a grin. “Okay, I’ll get to it.” The Vandykes looked so hopeful I had to add, “Don’t expect too much. There may be nothing to find.”
Only when I sat down before the computer and closed my eyes in preparation did the weariness crash down on me. The imprints of today and those from all the months before came to the surface, mixing in with my own memories. I was too tired to force it all back into the little compartments in my brain. It was hard enough keeping my own life straight, much less the events from other people’s lives.
Shannon moved past the Vandykes to stand beside me, replacing his phone in his pocket. I hadn’t heard him calling, so he must have been texting. I wondered if it involved a case he and Tracy were working on back in Portland. He’d taken time off to come with me, but that didn’t mean his cases could wait.
I was delaying again. Not good given how long Jenny had been gone.
This close to the computer, my skin was tingling. The keyboard contained imprints. Major ones. Odd because the half-dozen computers I’d read before retained only mild imprints—more often frustration than anything else.
Then again, Shannon had never asked me to read imprints from computers taken in pornography raids, for which I was infinitely grateful. At any rate, if these imprints were negative, I’d need the watch Shannon had unbuckled from his wrist. It had been his grandfather’s, and the imprints on it had helped me recover on more than one occasion when I hadn’t been able to reach Tawnia’s drawing.
I set my hands on the keyboard.
Happiness. Jenny/I loved her/my friends. They were wonderful! Chatting on Facebook was almost as good as being with them in person. Even if my mother didn’t want me to grow up, they knew I was grown up already. Not that Mom and Dad were terrible. They were great, as parents go.
Love filled my heart. Big and deep and long-lasting. They would do anything for me. Not like Mindy’s parents, who barely cared if she came home at night. Sure, she had a lot of fun, but being at her house alone at night was sometimes uncomfortable. Then again, if they hadn’t been absent so often, I wouldn’t have been able to go over there to search adoption reunion sites.
My birth father. What was he like? I would meet him someday, if I could find him. Six false alarms, where the details of my birth didn’t quite match up. Frustrating. But I’d added information to my profile, and maybe today I’d have new messages. The thought made me want to burst out in song. Mindy would be occupied with her boyfriend watching the video, and she would never know. Not yet.
Too bad I couldn’t look at the site now, but Dad checked the pages I visited, and I’d already deleted enough of my computer’s history that he’d mentioned it. I didn’t know how to tell him or Mom that I was curious. I didn’t want to hurt Dad. I had to wait until I got to Mindy’s.
The imprint faded, leaving me reeling with the intensity of Jenny’s emotions. Made more intense by the fact that I understood her longing only too well. I was infinitely glad I was seated, and I struggled to keep my face impassive because I didn’t want anyone to see how much the imprint affected me.
Earlier imprints followed, most of them full of laughter and fun—Jenny had loved connecting with friends—but mixed in were a few instances of disappointment that had been alluded to in the first imprint. He’s not the one. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe I’ll never meet him. There were also a few faint imprints from Gail and Kenken, but Jenny’
s imprints all started only eight months earlier, which was when I gathered her parents let her have Facebook.
I lifted my hands, my eyes refocusing on the room. The first person I saw was Gail Vandyke, her red-rimmed eyes staring. She wasn’t going to like what I’d discovered. I was glad to feel Shannon’s hand on my shoulder, steadying me.
“I take it there was something?” Agent Cross prompted.
“I call them imprints,” I said. “There were several. Jenny was looking for her birth father on adoption reunion registries. She’s had several disappointments, but on the last imprint, actually the first I experienced because I always see the latest one first, she was planning on going to her friend Mindy’s house to check for messages on a new profile she’d filled out. She didn’t do it on this computer because her father”—I looked at Mr. Vandyke—“always checked the sites she visited.”
“When was that?” Shannon asked.
I closed my eyes to remember. “A month ago, on a Thursday, I believe.”
“Mindy’s parents just don’t keep a good eye on the girls,” Gail said. “That’s why I always encourage Mindy to come to our house. But sometimes, you just can’t …” She trailed off.
Something was off in her reaction, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.
Gail added, “Geyser didn’t even know he had a child. What if Jenny found someone who was only posing as her father? He could be anyone!”
I glanced at Agent Cross and saw she had long ago come to the same conclusion. She finished a quiet exchange with her partner and pulled out her cell phone.
“Jenny wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go with just anyone,” Mr. Vandyke said. “She would have asked for proof.”
Gail bit her lower lip. “Like what? What did she even know?”
“That a midwife delivered her, that it was in Portland, where you worked. Your name.” Vandyke’s words seem to soothe his wife.
“Well, she wouldn’t be the first girl who was lured by a pedophile,” Agent Cross said. “But we’ll hope she’s with her birth father, as that is her best hope of remaining safe. We’ll need to reinterview the friend and confiscate her computer. With any luck we’ll find out what sites she visited and which people responded. Regardless of whether she found her birth father or not, whoever she’s with has committed a felony. We’ll find him and put him away.”
The FBI agents and Detective Greeley excused themselves and left the room, leaving the Vandykes looking as though they didn’t know whether to shout with hope or to scream in fear. I didn’t know myself.
“We’ll let you know the minute we hear anything,” Huish said to the Vandykes. “For now, go home.”
“What if they don’t find anything on Mindy’s computer?” Gail asked.
“They’ll have their best experts on it before the end of the day. Don’t worry. They’ll find it. Meanwhile, I’ll also assign a few detectives to contact the most prevalent reunion sites on the Net to see if she’s registered there. One way or another, we’ll find out what happened.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Vandyke said. To me he added, “And thank you. If you hadn’t come, we wouldn’t have known any of this.”
I refrained from pointing out that if his wife had told the truth from the beginning, the commander and the FBI might have gone in this direction all on their own. They might even have found Jenny by now. “You’re welcome.”
Huish walked the Vandykes to the exit while Shannon and I retrieved our coats.
“Is it just me,” Shannon said in a low voice, “or did Gail Vandyke not seem very surprised to learn that her daughter was searching for her birth father?”
I turned to him, my jaw dropping slightly. “You’re right. I knew something was off. But why would she hide that?”
“I can’t think why.” He shook his head. “I know she didn’t tell us her husband wasn’t Jenny’s birth father because she didn’t want her own secret to come out, but if she knew Jenny was searching the adoption sites, not telling the police sabotages the entire case.”
“Must be shock,” I said. “Unless she’s covering up for something else.”
“What?”
I didn’t know. “Must be shock,” I repeated.
Shannon sighed. “Well, I canceled our reservations at the hotel tonight. The FBI and the commander have the Internet leads covered, so it looks like Portland’s where it’s at for us. I’d like to talk to the neighbors at the apartment building where Jenny was born. We may be able to track down Jenny’s birth mother and get a line on the birth father that way before the FBI gets a warrant for the information they need from those websites.”
“Won’t they be following that lead, too?” I asked.
He grinned. “Yeah, but they can’t read imprints. Besides, Portland’s my city. If he’s there, I’ll find him. I’ve been texting Tracy about the circumstances around Jenny’s birth, and she’s already looking into it. If we drive home now, she may have something by the time we get there. Maybe we can find Jenny tonight.”
He had a point, though I still felt reluctant to leave. I wasn’t satisfied that Cody wasn’t involved somehow. He was hiding something.
Beside me, Shannon stilled. I looked around and saw a young detective leading Cody in the direction of the exit, his hands still plunged deeply into the pockets of his worn jeans.
“They letting you go?” I asked. It was more than I hoped for, seeing as the detectives had already made up their minds about him.
“Until they find a knife with my prints on it, I guess they can’t really book me,” he said. “And I can guarantee they ain’t going to find that because I didn’t do it.”
Huish returned in time to hear Cody’s comment. “You may be right about that, Mr. Beckett. I just got word that we’ve identified the John Doe at the hospital from his fingerprints. He’s Weston Millard, the registered owner of the handgun Bremer used at the gas station. And we found Millard’s car parked down the road from the station, where Bremer must have stashed it. So the two cases are definitely related. Hopefully for you, the evidence will show that, for reasons yet undetermined, Bremer attacked Millard with the knife and then stole his gun.”
“Ha!” Cody said. “I told you I didn’t do it.”
I felt almost as if his comment was directed toward me. I pulled my coat tighter around me.
Cody’s gaze shifted to me. “What are you hiding from, anyway?”
“What makes you think I’m hiding?”
His curious expression vanished, replaced by a shuttered look I’d seen many times on my sister’s face, one I wished I could copy. Unfortunately, I knew my annoyance at his question was plain on my face, right along with my own curiosity about him, my anger at what he’d done to my mother, and whatever else was hidden in the mixture of emotions raging through my body.
“Your eyes never meet mine,” he said. “Besides, I’ve been hiding myself long enough to recognize it.” Without waiting for a response, he headed toward the exit, the young detective trailing him.
I watched him leave, once again remembering Jenny’s emotion. If she had found her birth father, I hoped her experience was better than mine.
Chapter 10
Before he let us leave the sheriff’s office, Greeley made us view head shots to see if we could identify our attackers at the hospital, but none of those we’d seen were in the pictures. As we sped back to Portland with the aid of Shannon’s portable police lights, I pondered Jenny’s curiosity about her birth father. I shared that with her, at least in my teen years, but I’d never considered trying to find him until last year after being reunited with my sister and discovering my ability. The ability was the real impetus. I’d needed to know more about it. I still needed to know, and yet here I was heading back to Portland without ever having made myself known to Cody Beckett.
It’s better this way, I thought. He could still be guilty, and if so, all I had done by going to Hayesville was to muddy the investigation with my discoveries about Jenny’s birth parents.
>
Could it be a coincidence that Jenny had gone missing so soon after beginning the search for her birth father? I shivered, glad that I hadn’t made the same mistake, glad I hadn’t appeared on Cody’s doorstep as a child, perhaps as they hauled him off to prison or after he came home in one of his drugged stupors.
No, not drugged. I’d been told he’d sworn off drugs after the night he’d hurt my mother, and from what I could tell, that might be true. But there was still the alcohol abuse and the fact that he’d moved to a remote area. Was it so he wouldn’t hurt anyone again?
“Whose name is on the birth certificate as Jenny’s father?” Shannon asked.
“Kenyon Vandyke.” I tapped the police file. “But it’s an amended one. Gail must have changed it later.”
“The irony is that if Kenyon Vandyke hadn’t insisted on telling his daughter the truth, she might still be safe at home.”
“Or she might be dying of a rare disease and her birth father could save her life but doesn’t because they don’t want to tell her she’s adopted,” I countered. “Life throws curves. That doesn’t mean you start lying.” I’d known from the beginning that I was adopted, and Winter and Summer had told me all about my birth mother and how she’d stayed with them during her pregnancy. They hadn’t known about Tawnia; only the doctor had known we were twins. Later, Winter had told me he’d go with me if I ever wanted to search for my birth father. Maybe that openness was why I never tried.
“I’d better call my sister,” I said when Shannon didn’t respond. “She’ll want to know what’s going on and how her picture tied into it.” My stomach gave a loud growl, though it hadn’t been that long since I’d finished my second sandwich.
Shannon laughed. “We need to think about dinner, too.”
“Uh, yeah.” My appetite, always large, had grown even more since my ability blossomed.
Tawnia’s husband, Bret, answered her cell phone. “She’s taking a nap with the baby,” he said. “She’s had a tough day. Unless it’s important, I’d rather not wake her.”
Line of Fire Page 12