by Laura Scott
Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and probed the depths of her soul, dragging out the faith she shouldn’t have given up on, praying for the first time in years. Lord, thank You for showing me that Skylar is alive. And please guide me. Give me the strength and courage to find my sister.
“Shanna?” Quinn’s tone was anxious.
She lifted her head and forced a smile. “It’s a gift, Quinn. A true gift. After all this time, we finally found Skylar. I have to call my mother, to let her know the news.” And her father. He’d flat-out refused to talk to her when she’d tried to get in touch with him a few weeks ago, but surely he’d talk to her now.
“Whoa, wait a minute.” Quinn took her hand in his, halting her from surging to her feet. “Why don’t we wait until we know what we’re dealing with?”
“Are you kidding?” Shanna stared at him, tugging at her hand. “My sister is alive. Do you know how many years we’ve waited to know even that much?” She was ashamed to admit she’d thought the worst. That Skylar was lying dead and buried in an abandoned field somewhere. At any moment she’d expected the police to uncover her bones.
God, forgive me for losing faith. Forgive me for believing Skylar was dead.
“Yes, she’s alive. But we don’t know where she’s been for all these years. And I highly doubt she’s going by the name of Skylar Dawson. Besides, her fingerprints were found at a crime scene, which makes her one of the many suspects in Brady’s death.”
Skylar a suspect? No, it wasn’t possible. But Shanna slid back into her seat, the sick feeling in her stomach persisting. No. There was no way she believed her long-lost sister was a murderer. “Skylar didn’t hurt your brother.”
Quinn’s glance held a trace of sympathy. “Maybe not, but take a moment to think this through. What can you really tell your mother at this point? You don’t know what name Skylar is using these days. We don’t even have a photo yet. Why don’t we go through the names of the kids who were known to be at the party? We can get their ID pictures from the school, and you can see if any of the girls look familiar.”
She had to admit, his idea had merit. And she had enough vacation time to get out of doing the routine lab work. Besides, now that her sister’s prints had been found, Eric would remove her from actively working the case.
“Maybe we can even get a younger picture of your sister to perform a computer aging process,” Quinn continued. “Once you know Skylar’s current name, you’ll have really good news to tell your mother.”
She bit her lip and nodded, knowing he was right to take things slow. But she wanted to find Skylar now. Her patience was nonexistent after fourteen years. “My mother has a computer age-progression image of Skylar—it’s posted on the website for missing children. But first I still need to go to the lab. I need to find out exactly where Skylar’s prints were found.”
“I’ll go with you.” Quinn released her hand and rose to his feet.
She stood, taking her phone from his hand. Skylar’s prints were found at a college house. How ironic to know Skylar was here at a local university, only twenty miles from home after all these years.
Did Skylar remember her? Or their parents?
She almost hoped not, because that would mean Skylar had suffered, missing her home and her family while being taken somewhere else.
Her stomach clenched as the worst-case scenario flashed through her head. She dearly hoped that Skylar’s life since she’d been gone had been decent and good.
Not dark and twisted.
Quinn kept a wary eye on Shanna as he drove to the CSI crime lab. Her face was still pale, but she looked a little less fragile than she had lying cold on the floor of her kitchen. She’d taken years off his life when she’d fainted like that. Although, after hearing her long-lost sister’s fingerprints were found at Brady’s crime scene, he certainly understood why she’d reacted the way she did.
He couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been to lose a younger sibling to a kidnapping, never knowing if she was alive or dead.
Dead. Like Brady. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Quinn knew he should be heading over to his mother’s offering his support, rather than sticking close to Shanna’s side, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave her alone. Besides, staying with Shanna meant he might get more information related to Brady’s case, which was what he wanted.
Satisfied with his decision, he turned his head from side to side, trying to ease the kinks from his neck. He wasn’t interested in Shanna’s mysterious past unless it had a direct bearing on Brady’s murder. Although for the life of him, he couldn’t see anything but a random connection. But if Skylar disappeared fourteen years ago, she would be nineteen now. Just a year younger than Brady. Interesting.
Pulling up in front of the state crime-lab building, Quinn glanced at her. “Is it okay if I come in with you?”
“Sure.” She glanced at him in surprise. “We’ll register you for a visitor pass.”
Intrigued by what they might find out inside the crime lab, he followed Shanna as she headed to her buddy Al, the fingerprint analyst.
“Shanna?” A tall, thin middle-aged man hurried over. “I’ve been waiting for you. I ran these prints first thing this morning. Come here—you have to look at this fingerprint comparison for yourself.”
“I believe you,” she protested, going along with him anyway. She peered at the computer screen for a long moment as if afraid to believe the truth. “You’re convinced there’s no way this could be a mistake?”
“None.” Al went on to explain exactly which pattern in the fingerprint made them unique. “Despite the size difference between an adult and a child, they’re definitely the same.”
“What part of the crime scene did this print come from?” Shanna asked.
Al’s glance slid from hers and he grimaced. “Now, don’t be upset, but I found her fingerprints on both the rugby trophy and the desk in the victim’s room.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. Quinn crossed over to stand beside her, since it seemed she’d forgotten his presence. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” he warned. “There might be a legitimate reason for her prints to be on the trophy.”
“True enough,” Al chimed in. “We found a total of four prints on the trophy, one from the victim, one from your sister and two others. After we get all the kids identified, we’ll start getting copies of their prints in the system, to see what matches.”
Shanna nodded, although Quinn could tell she was badly shaken by the news. She asked, “Do you have anything else to go on? Any other fingerprint matches?”
“Not yet,” Al admitted. “I started with the trophy and the kid’s bedroom, and so far, your sister is the only match I’ve gotten from the database, aside from the victim’s, of course. Getting through the rest of the house is going to take some time.”
“I understand.” Shanna fell silent.
Al looked at her with sympathy. “I already informed Eric about this. He told you to take off as much time as you need.”
Shanna nodded as if she were still in a daze.
“Do you need to do anything else?” Quinn asked, putting a hand on her arm. “Or do we have time to head over to the admissions office of Carlyle University to look at photo IDs?”
“The admissions office,” she agreed. “Al? If you find anything else, please let me know.”
“I will.” The older scientist gazed at her with true concern. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”
A slight smile flitted around her mouth. “Thanks. Let Eric know I’ll be in touch later.”
Clearly, Shanna was close to Al, and he found himself wondering about her family as they walked back outside to his SUV. She’d mentioned her mother, but not her father. “This news is really going to shock your family, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she murmured, sliding into the passenger seat as he climbed in behind the wheel. “My mother always clung to the belief Skylar was alive, but my dad refused to even talk about her. My parent
s divorced a few years after Skylar’s kidnapping, mostly because of my dad.”
His heart squeezed in sympathy. “I know what it’s like to come from a broken home.”
“Maybe, but at least you know the breakup wasn’t your fault.” The faint bitterness in her tone surprised him.
Her fault? He shot her a quick glance. “Shanna, I’m sure your parents didn’t blame you.”
Her gaze was bleak. “Yes, they did. Because it was true. Skylar’s kidnapping was my fault.” She turned away, staring out the window. “You were right to hold off on telling my mother. I want to find my sister first. I can’t bear to raise her hopes for no reason.”
He reached over to take her hand in his. “Maybe looking through the student IDs will help.”
“I hope so,” she murmured. “I need to be able to give my mother that much.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. His cell phone rang, and he juggled the steering wheel, going against state law by answering it. “Hello?”
“Quinn?” His mother’s shrill voice echoed in his ear. “Where are you?”
“I’m following up on some leads from Brady’s case,” he told her, trying to ignore that she hadn’t bothered asking how he was doing. His mother tended to live in a world that was centered on herself and her second family. Not the mistake of her first marriage. “What’s wrong? Are you and James doing all right?”
“It’s been awful to sit here not knowing anything. We’ve been waiting for you to bring us some news.” Her tone was full of reproach.
“I wish I had some news to bring you, but I don’t.” He maneuvered the car around a turn with one hand, refraining from reminding her that Brady had been dead for just a little more than twenty-four hours. “Look, Mom, I have to go. I’m driving. After I go through the list of kids who were at Brady’s party, I’ll be in touch.”
“Call us the minute you find anything. We have an appointment at the funeral home this evening, but we don’t know when they’re going to release Brady’s body.” Her tone grew thick with suppressed tears.
Guilt swirled as he realized he should be making the funeral arrangements for her. “I’ll help you with the arrangements, Mom. I’ll find out when they’re going to release Brady’s body, and I’ll meet you at the funeral home when I finish here.”
“All right. I’ll let James know the plan.” His mother hung up. Fighting a surge of helplessness that he couldn’t do more, Quinn flipped his phone shut.
“I can look through the photo IDs myself,” Shanna offered in a low tone. “Sounds as if you have a lot to do at home.”
Selfishly, he didn’t want to leave Shanna. Not yet. Not until he knew whether or not she’d recognized any of the photo IDs as potentially belonging to her sister.
“I have time. Let’s go through the pictures first, see if anyone looks even vaguely familiar. For now we’ll use whatever aged photo your mom has posted on the missing children website.”
“Sounds good.”
Quinn parked in a no-parking zone, using his campus police tag to identify his car, and walked inside the main registration office with Shanna at his side. It was busy for a Monday, but within moments they were granted access to the library and the database where the computer records of all the college students’ information and photos were kept.
“Here’s the list of partygoers,” Quinn said, pushing the list in front of her. At least half the attendees were female. “Let’s start with these first.”
She nodded, and he typed in the first name on the computer. After a few seconds, the photograph popped up on the screen. Shanna stared at the image so long, he cast a concerned glance her way. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Shanna slowly shook her head. “It’s just that other than Skylar’s brown eyes, I don’t even know what to look for. Her hair could be any length, any color.”
“Brown eyes?” He raised a brow, peering at her. No contacts that he could see. “Yours are blue.”
“Yeah. Skylar takes after my dad. He has brown eyes. Mine and my mom’s are blue.”
“I see. We could narrow the search function to just those girls with brown eyes.”
“No.” She put her hand on his arm, stopping him. “I’d like to see them all, if you don’t mind.”
He hesitated, but then nodded. His time constraints weren’t hers. After all these years, Shanna deserved at least a couple of hours to get through the list. “Okay.”
One by one, she paged through the list of girls who’d been identified as attending the party. A few times she toggled back and forth between the picture of how Skylar might look now and the actual student photo, but in the end she sat back, slowly shaking her head.
“None of them look familiar.” Her dejected tone made him empathize with what she must be going through. “I thought…” She didn’t finish.
“Hey, we’ve only gone through the party list. There are thousands of other female student pictures to get through.” He didn’t have time to get through the rest now, but he could come back later, after the visit to the funeral home.
“Maybe.” Shanna lifted her tortured gaze. “Looking at these pictures is harder than I thought. I should recognize her. My own sister. The image should jump out at me, don’t you think?”
“Try to relax,” he soothed. “We still have time—”
“No! You don’t understand! It’s already been fourteen years. I have to find her, Quinn. I have to!”
FOUR
Shanna stared at Quinn, feeling the pressure building up in her chest, preventing her from breathing. At the same time, her pulse skyrocketed into triple digits. For a moment she was helpless, unable to fight the overwhelming sense of panic.
Fourteen years! She’d waited fourteen years to hear news about her sister, and she was so close. Her sister was here, somewhere on this college campus. She couldn’t fail to recognize her now. She couldn’t.
“Easy, Shanna, breathe,” Quinn said in his low, hypnotic voice. “This isn’t the time to have a panic attack.”
Panic attack? What was he talking about? “I’m not!” she snapped. The flash of anger at Quinn helped loosen the tightness in her chest. But her breathing was still shaky.
His green-gold gaze held a note of sympathy. “It’s okay. You’ve certainly been through a lot over the past few hours.”
She closed her eyes, feeling like the worst kind of basket case, and concentrated on breathing. Deep breath in, hold for ten seconds before exhaling slowly. She repeated the process several times, calming herself and realizing Quinn was right. She was having a panic attack.
Earlier today, she’d fainted for the first time ever, and now this. What in the world was wrong with her? She needed to pull herself together, or she wouldn’t be any good to Skylar. She needed to remember she was a trained crime-scene investigator.
Not a victim. Not anymore. Her sister was alive. And she’d need every one of her investigative skills to find her.
“I’m fine,” she murmured when he lightly rested his hand on her shoulder in apparent concern. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to glance up at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this much of a mess.”
“Shanna, cut yourself some slack already, would you?” Quinn stared at her with mild exasperation. “First you have some creepy guy following you, and then you discover your long-lost sister is alive. I think you’re entitled to lose control a bit.”
For the first time in what seemed like hours, she cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Quinn. But that’s not a good excuse. I’m not the type to fall apart like this.”
He scowled in disagreement. “If that’s not a good excuse, I don’t know what is.”
Slowly she shook her head. Suddenly, everything fell into place, crystal clear. “No, this is God’s way of reminding me I can’t succeed on my own. For years I didn’t put all my heart, soul and faith in God, and now I realize how wrong that was. It’s about time I face the truth. I need to put my fears and my worries into God
’s hands. With His support and guidance we’ll find Skylar.” Even as she said the words, Shanna felt calmer. More at peace.
How could she have forgotten the power of prayer? How could she have abandoned her faith when she needed it the most? No wonder she’d started falling apart.
Quinn’s eyes widened as if he were surprised by what she’d said, and then he physically pulled away and averted his gaze. “So, how about I drive you home?” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I need to leave now to meet my mother and her husband at the funeral home.”
His withdrawal and the abrupt way he’d changed the subject was a response she hadn’t anticipated. Clearly, Quinn wasn’t comfortable talking about faith and God. Because he didn’t believe in God? Or the power of prayer? While she could relate to a certain extent, hadn’t she made a similar mistake over these past few years? She still found it unbearably sad that Quinn might not believe in God at all.
But she wasn’t brave enough to broach the subject now. Not when he clearly had other problems crowding his mind. Like planning his brother’s funeral.
“No thanks. I’m going to stay for a while,” she said lightly, turning back toward the computer screen. “I want to make a dent in these photos.”
“There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow,” he started, but she cut him off.
“No. I’m staying.” She wasn’t the weak woman who’d suffered from a panic attack just a few minutes ago. Already she felt stronger, more determined. With God’s help and support she could do anything. She forced a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch a cab home when I’m finished here.”
He stared at her for several tense moments before letting out a heavy sigh. “I’d rather you wait for me,” he protested. “How about if I come back here to pick you up after we’re finished with the funeral arrangements?”
“I’m fine with taking a cab, Quinn. You don’t need to go out of your way.”
He scowled with frustration. “Wait for me,” he repeated with more force this time. “I’ll pick you up when you’re finished here, okay?”