Alvarez gave King a look and they entered the interrogation room together. They each took a seat across from Mrs. Bowers and made introductions, reiterating that she wasn’t in any kind of trouble.
King looked Mrs. Bowers in the eye and asked, “Can you please tell me again why you’re here?”
She flicked her brown eyes to Alvarez before saying, “As I mentioned to Detective Alvarez before, something tells me my husband may have had something to do with that young girl’s murder.”
“Megan Hines?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Bowers was a concerned wife. Her appearance was first class, her demeanor calm. She radiated a life of privilege and entitlement, but King kept asking himself how someone like her could end up marrying a monster.
“Do you know where your husband is now?”
“He was at the house when I left, but he’s a contractor with two jobs in progress.” Mrs. Bowers mentioned the neighborhood of her husband’s work, Arapahoe Acres, confirming Christopher’s story. “A client of his, Oliver Carr, has loaned him a red Ford truck.”
Alvarez turned to King and quietly told him that patrol had already run the VIN through the DMV and an APB was sent out, actively searching for both Christopher and the truck.
“I’m worried about him,” Mrs. Bowers said. “I’m afraid he’s not taking his medication. Chris has been forced to scale back his work because of mental health issues. He’s getting help for his manic depression, but I don’t think it’s doing enough to bring my husband back.”
King was taking notes when he asked, “And is he manic now?”
“He’s been on a binge for the last week, but this time seems worse than previous episodes.”
“Can you explain that for me?”
Mrs. Bowers explained what her husband had been up to. Up through the night, disappearing for long hours without her knowing where he was. His temper was short and his mood was swinging wildly depending on the hour of the day. As King listened, he thought about Christopher’s prostitution charges, how he didn’t want his wife to know about it. What else didn’t she know? Did she know her husband brought in Eva the other night?
When Mrs. Bowers was finished, King asked, “Mrs. Bowers, does the word thirsty mean anything to you?”
Her neck straightened and King saw her eyes flash with recognition. “It’s what he calls his manic state.”
King gently bit his lip and leaned in as a terrible feeling of being duped draped over him. Mrs. Bowers’s next revelation about her husband made King think Christopher Bowers was truly the person behind Eva’s abduction, maybe even Megan’s murder.
“The reason I came in today is that I found my husband taking photographs with his cellphone of my daughter and her friend sunbathing. Can you imagine? She’s only sixteen.” Her expression pinched with anger. “He didn’t even try to hide it from me.”
“And your daughter was home from school today?”
“She’s a student at South High. Classes were canceled because of what happened to Megan.”
“And you think he had something to do with Megan’s murder?”
She nodded. “There was something different in his eye today. He didn’t even look tired after being out all night. Since his diagnosis six weeks ago, he does this, and I started putting it together. Each of his prolonged absences coincides developments in Megan’s case. He’s sick in the head, Detective.”
King eased back in his chair, not liking what he was hearing.
“Then I found this on his desk.” Mrs. Bowers produced a contractor’s house plan. She unrolled the sheet of paper and pointed to the basement floor plan. “He labeled the room ‘Play Pen, for girls only’. It’s self-explanatory. I don’t think we need to guess what he meant by it.”
King pointed to the address labeled in the upper right-hand corner of the house plans and made a mental note of it. His pulse thrashed and pounded in his neck. He’d been to the house already. He now wondered if he’d been standing above where Megan had been kept captive.
The metal door opened behind him and an officer from the squad room peaked his head into the room. “We’ve got a hit on the truck.”
King twisted around and locked eyes with the officer. The officer told him the address and King knew the place. Christopher Bowers was parked outside Eva Martin’s apartment complex. Apparently, he didn’t get enough of her the first time around.
Chapter Eighty-Five
“I know he’s not a teacher, but it has to be him,” I said, squeezing my car keys inside my palm. Erin hadn’t seen the Polaroids in Carr’s desk drawer.
Erin’s hand was on her bottom lip, her eyes focused on Carr’s house. We hadn’t left the neighborhood, and I didn’t know if we could now that it was clear he and Archie might be working together to get to Eva.
“She’s going back to him,” I said. “And there is nothing we can do about it.”
Erin’s brow furrowed when she turned to me and said, “There’s no doubt Carr’s a woman collector, but does he like to sleep with younger women, too?”
To me, they all looked like girls. Their true ages were impossible to tell. Jenny was said to be sleeping with an older man; could it have been Oliver Carr? Did we just accidently find the second suspect I assumed was behind these crimes? He and Archie made two, the number I always suspected to be working.
“I don’t like this, Sam. I think we need to call the cops.”
I had considered splitting up to cover more ground, but I certainly wasn’t ready to call the cops. Instead I said, “And say what? We caught their guy? Everything we currently know is circumstantial at best.”
Erin sighed and held her hair up off her neck.
Discovering Eva’s picture on Carr’s desk furthered my suspicion Archie was scripting his own book. The thought made me sick. Archie still hadn’t responded to my requests to call, and I doubted he would now that Carr understood what we were after. There was no doubt in my mind Eva would eventually find herself here. When she did, would we be ready?
“They’re going to kill her,” Erin muttered.
“We can’t let that happen,” I said as my phone rang. It was Dawson. I hoped he had some good news when I answered with a question. “Did you find what happened to Jane Doe?”
“Chief Watts is calling a press conference. I need you there.”
“Now’s not a good time.” I told him why.
“Sam, there are early reports that Jessica Hinojos’s abduction was a hoax.”
I rolled my gaze over to Erin. She leaned across the console and listened in on the call. As much as I wanted to know if what he was saying was true, I knew I couldn’t go.
“Dawson, you don’t understand. I’m about to crack the case on these kidnappings.”
“Sam—”
“I’m sorry. You’re going to have to find someone to cover for me,” I said, killing the call early, thinking about how Jenny was still out there somewhere waiting for someone to find her. I couldn’t abandon her, just like I hadn’t abandoned Megan.
Erin whistled a low tune that said I shouldn’t have done that.
“He’ll get over it,” I said, deciding how best we could protect Eva without her ever knowing it.
A part of me still believed Carr might be hiding some undiscovered truth we were close to learning. What that was, I wasn’t exactly sure, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way. How could we surveil him, Archie, and Eva with only the two of us?
Erin picked up her phone and began working. After I asked what she was doing, she said, “Going fishing.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“If Archie is going after Eva like we suspect, and Eva won’t talk to us, we need to make sure we know where he is.”
Erin was using Eva’s credentials to log into the dating website, requesting to meet with Archie. I wasn’t convinced he’d go for it, being that it was the middle of the day, but what other choice did we have?
“Okay,” I said, “but what about Carr?�
��
Erin pointed her painted nail to the mirror and said, “I don’t think he’s going anywhere fast.”
When I flicked my gaze to the rearview mirror, wondering what she was referring to, I was surprised to see a police car turning onto the street. We watched it approach, pass us by, and turn into Carr’s driveway. I didn’t know how or why this grace from God happened when it did, but I wasn’t complaining.
Erin’s phone dinged and she smiled. “Would you look at that? Archie is excited for his date with us.”
Chapter Eighty-Six
Eva circled the block, trying to give herself enough time for Archie to learn she wasn’t home and move on with his day. As she walked, she kept her head down, still believing everyone wanted to see her face and look her in the eye. It was an awful feeling and she couldn’t wait to go back to living a more inconspicuous life.
Nearly twenty minutes had passed when she came back around to her apartment building. This time she approached from the adjacent street just in case she had been spotted before. Shortening her gait, she dug the soles of her shoes into the pavement and took a step back when she saw him. Archie was still there, sitting behind the wheel of his small car with phone in hand.
What was he doing? How long would he wait for her?
Eva glanced behind her, then back to Archie, deciding what to do next. She needed to get inside her apartment, if only for a few minutes, to pack up and leave. Then, to her surprise, Archie started his car and pointed the hood into traffic, driving away.
Eva watched him leave. He’d never even looked in her direction. She could breathe again. Seeing her window of opportunity, Eva made her move and headed for the crosswalk just as a red Ford truck took Archie’s spot.
Her heart skipped with hope, but her eyebrows knitted with confusion. The truck looked exactly like Carr’s but it couldn’t be. Carr never took his truck out with her. Eva hoped to steal a glance at the driver, but he never turned. Her anxiety spread. Was that Carr behind the wheel or someone else? It looked like someone else.
A pang of fear cramped her side as she thought about what Carr might do when he learned she’d been kidnapped by another man. He’d never believe she wasn’t touched. With her heart pounding, paranoia and fear got the best of her. Eva froze, uncertain whether to go forward or retreat into hiding.
The traffic lights turned red and the crosswalk flashed white. It was time for her to decide. Just when she took her first step, the man in the truck turned his head and revealed his face.
Eva stopped mid-step. She was certain he wasn’t looking at her, but she was definitely looking at him. What was going on? Why was he here?
Quickly, Eva spun around before she was spotted. She darted to a nearby tree, hiding behind its thick trunk. With her back against the scaly bark, Eva wondered how the driver knew where she lived. Had she told him? She couldn’t recall.
Keeping her body concealed, she peeked around the tree. The little doubt she still had was quickly erased after a second look confirmed it was the man she thought it was.
The driver was now out of the truck, slowly heading toward the entrance to her apartment. He looked around, but never in her direction. It was the man who picked her up the night she was running for her life—the night she thought she was going to die.
It didn’t make any sense. Unless—
They were working together. Carr had told him where she lived.
Feeling a trigger coming on, she scrolled through her contacts and called the only person she knew she could trust. After three rings, a man’s voice answered.
“Are you home?” Eva said, trying not to sound too desperate.
“Yeah. I’m here. Are you okay? You don’t sound too good.”
“Listen, I’ll tell you all about it, but first I need you to let me in the back.”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Susan woke feeling awful. Sleep had been elusive. After Daniels left last night, she blamed herself for what happened. She was too honest. She’d allowed their relationship to take off too fast. There were so many things she could have done differently, but the one truth she couldn’t escape was the unexplainable need she felt to apologize to him.
Daniels had what she needed. He could be her saving grace if she allowed him to be. He’d said it himself on his way out the door. “Call me when you’re ready to commit. I have everything you need waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Now, as Susan sat behind her work computer wrestling with fear over the possibility of losing everything she’d worked so hard to build, she believed she was ready to commit. Even if that meant making a deal with the devil.
Gathering her purse and keys, she left the office with a straight face. Her colleagues were busy working as if the business wasn’t about to fold. Susan couldn’t stomach the thought of letting them down, but the look on Carly’s face said it all; she knew she’d failed.
Susan drove across town and, as she neared Daniels’s office, her nerves tightened her stomach. Would he welcome her visit? Be happy to see her? Would she feel comfortable being in a room alone with him? Susan told herself she could do this—that she was strong and had no choice—but the replay in her head of last night wouldn’t stop. It was enough to give her pause.
“This isn’t about us,” she reminded herself. “This is strictly business.”
Susan wanted access to Daniels’s promised circle of influence. Nothing more. Just a chance to stay in business and do the work she loved.
When she arrived at the studio, she parked out front and was about to turn the car off when the news report playing through the speakers caught her attention. With one hand on the wheel, the other on the keys, Susan listened.
“The Amber Alert has been canceled for Jessica Hinojos. Early reports are saying the teenager is alive and well and the chief of police will be holding a press conference soon.”
Susan closed her eyes, breathed out a sigh of relief. It was welcome news, but she still worried about Naomi’s friend Jenny. Where was she? If she was still alive, did Jessica know where the police could find her? Susan prayed she could.
Exiting her car, she marched to the entrance and swung open the glass door. Making her way to the front office, she was greeted by an empty reception desk. Susan looked around and decided to find Daniels’s office herself. Following the signs only got her so far before she knew she was lost. A young man rounded the corner and Susan asked him for directions.
He looked no older than a freshman in college, but was happy to point her in the direction of where she needed to go. Susan thanked the man and a beat later was knocking on Daniels’s door. When no one answered, she looked up and down the empty hallway before peeking her head inside. “Hello?” she called.
No response.
Daniels wasn’t here.
Susan entered and was immediately impressed by his office. The expansive mahogany desk, the panoramic view of the Rockies, and all the awards and achievements he’d accumulated throughout his impressive career were on full display. It was everything she dreamed of having herself. A corner office, prominent career, and influential power. But a part of her was happy Daniels wasn’t here. Rebuilding his trust would take time, time she didn’t have.
Not wanting to wait around for him to show his face, she decided to start small by leaving him a note instead. Finding a pen and paper, she simply wrote, Let’s try this again, Susan.
She folded the paper into a tent and placed it in front of his computer monitor to make sure it wouldn’t be overlooked. That’s when Susan noticed Daniels’s very detailed interest in the cases of the missing girls. It was clear to her that he’d been following the stories very closely. She read through the notes on his desk, noticing a glaring discrepancy: almost everything was written about Jenny, hardly a mention about Megan, and not even Jessica’s name.
Susan pulled at her collar and straightened. She glanced to the door as the temperature in the room seemed to climb. Sifting through more of the pile, she grew more
and more confused as names she didn’t know began mixing with those of the missing girls.
Who was Josie Zapatero? She didn’t know.
Susan made a mental note and continued reading.
Nicholas Bennett… teacher at South High… sleeping with Jenny Booth!!
Could this be true? Susan didn’t believe it. Nicholas Bennett was Allison’s new man. She was too smart to be interested in someone who preyed on his students. Daniels’s next line of notes made Susan even more nervous than before.
Have Heidi sell this story!!!
Susan’s hand trembled and the paper she was holding shook.
Sell this story? Did that mean it wasn’t true? Why would he want to do that?
“Oh god,” she breathed with realization. This was why he didn’t want to talk work last night. His work was all lies.
Susan pressed her hand against her forehead and felt her temperature spike. She felt used. Like Daniels was only interested in her to keep close to the story she gave him permission to tell. But why spin it and create sensational fodder? Susan didn’t understand.
Daniels’s office phone rang and Susan jumped back like someone had entered. Covering her mouth, she listened to it go to voicemail.
“Oliver, it’s Hoffman. It’s done.”
Susan knew the voice and recognized the name. It was the client she’d lost. Her eyes widened as she listened closely, knowing this couldn’t be coincidence.
“Now I need the name of that company you promised could deliver better results. Call me.”
Tilting her head away, Susan’s entire body tensed with betrayal. Did Daniels sabotage her proposal? It certainly seemed that way. But why? Susan hit replay on the machine and listened to it again. She couldn’t believe it. Who was this other company Daniels promised? Did he actually have one? How did he even know about her proposal to Hoffman?
As Susan stood, lost in her thoughts, the machine skipped to the next message without Susan realizing it. It was from the night of the award ceremony, the one Susan’s company hosted.
MAD AS BELL Page 23