by Lisa Regan
“Wow,” Noah said.
Josie pointed upward. “Let’s check the upper stairs.”
On the sixth-floor landing, Josie stopped when she saw a little square of black fabric peeking out from behind the long, thick pipe that went from the ceiling to the floor. She knelt and took a pen out of her back pocket, using its blunt end to probe the item. Behind her, Noah snapped on gloves and knelt beside her. He used his hands to pull and out slid a large black T-shirt emblazoned with the words: Let Me Sleep.
“Shit,” Noah said.
Also stuffed behind the pole were a pair of pajama pants and slippers. “These are hers,” Josie said.
Noah carried them in his hands as Josie moved through the door and onto the sixth floor. They went to the nurses’ station. Josie showed them a photo of Maya Bestler, but no one recognized her. Josie said, “Is there a way to check with all the staff on the clock right now to find out if any of theirs or their patients’ personal possessions are missing?”
One of the nurses started making calls. Ten minutes later, they hit pay dirt. A nurse on the second floor was missing her backup scrubs which she’d left in a tote bag behind the nurses’ station on that floor the day before. Roughly ninety dollars and her sneakers were missing as well.
Josie and Noah put Maya’s discarded pajamas into a Patient Belongings bag that one of the nurses provided. Then they took the elevator back down to the first-floor security suite. The same guard who had helped them earlier was there. Josie explained what she was looking for and within a few minutes, he was able to find Maya Bestler, dressed in nursing scrubs and sneakers, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, walking casually from the sixth-floor stairwell to the elevator. Then he found her again, exiting the same elevator on the first floor. She didn’t leave through the main lobby as Josie suspected, however. Instead, she turned and exited through the Emergency Room, where everyone was far too busy to notice a nurse who was probably taking a smoke break.
They checked the exterior cameras, watching her stroll out of the parking lot onto the sidewalk, where she crossed the street and disappeared from view.
“Shit,” Noah said.
Forty-One
Two hours later, Josie and Noah were back at their desks, Chitwood looming over them once more. “This is not good, kids,” he said. His pockmarked cheeks were pink and wisps of his white hair stood up from his scalp, as though the angry energy emanating from him had set them afloat. “Bowen is already demanding we release his client. Without Maya Bestler’s testimony, the case against Michael Donovan falls apart. The District Attorney said even with the baby’s DNA, he’s not putting this guy on trial when the victim and main witness ran off. It doesn’t look good to a jury.”
Noah said, “We canvassed around the hospital, checked exterior cameras of other businesses. No one remembered seeing her, and we couldn’t find her on camera anywhere, but how far could she possibly get on foot?”
Chitwood said, “Maybe she wasn’t on foot. Maybe she hitched a ride.”
“From who?” Noah asked.
“We only canvassed a small area,” Josie said. “She could have gone out of that area and easily hitched a ride with some unsuspecting stranger or solicited help from someone on the street. She had ninety dollars. She could have gotten on a bus or train for all we know. No one knows who she is, so she wouldn’t be recognized.”
“We could call the press,” Noah said. “Put word out that we want to find her. Release a photo.”
“We can’t,” Josie said.
“Why not?”
“For the same reason we couldn’t call in patrol units to canvas for her. It’s not like we can detain her even if we do find her. She’s a grown woman. She left the hospital of her own accord. We have no evidence that her life is in danger, and she has no obligation to anyone in this situation.”
“She stole the nurse’s things,” Noah said.
“We can’t prove that,” Josie replied. “She wasn’t caught on camera doing it.”
“But the baby,” Noah argued. “That’s child abandonment.”
“Not according to the Safe Haven law in Pennsylvania,” Josie said. “She left him at a hospital in the care of medical staff. The charge would never stick.”
“And it makes her look like shit to a jury,” Chitwood added. “Even though she was kidnapped and raped by this guy, a jury is still going to hate her for walking out on her kid. I don’t know how long we can hold this hermit guy.”
“The DA is going to release Donovan.” Josie said, feeling defeated. “Just like that.” Without definitive proof that he had also killed the Yates couple and Renee Kelly or that he had taken Emilia Gresham, they couldn’t charge him for any of those crimes. Chitwood was right. They wouldn’t be able to hold Donovan much longer. If he was behind the recent deaths, they’d be letting a sadistic killer loose.
Noah said, “He stole items from the Yates campsite. Can’t the DA charge him with theft?”
Josie shook her head. “There’s no one to press charges and no witnesses. Tyler and Valerie Yates are dead. Emilia Gresham is missing. That would never hold up in court. Even if the DA charged him with theft to buy time, he’d be released on his own recognizance. The county isn’t going to spend money housing a prisoner on a misdemeanor offense like that.”
“Shit,” Noah muttered. He looked at Chitwood. “Can you get us some more time? Maybe we can find her and talk her into coming back.”
“You think you can find her?” Chitwood asked.
Josie said, “We can try. I don’t think she’ll want to come back, but we can give it a shot.”
“Where do you think she went?”
Josie said, “The ex-boyfriend. That’s the first person I’d check with.”
Chitwood rolled his eyes and then looked at the clock on the wall. “Jesus,” he said. “That guy lives a couple of hours away, doesn’t he? Who’s working the cult?”
“Gretchen,” Josie said. “And Mett will be in this afternoon. She’s going to check property records. Try to get more information about Charlotte Fadden before we go back in to rattle her.”
“Fine,” Chitwood said. “Go see if you can find Bestler. But you only get one day. If she doesn’t want this guy prosecuted, I’m not wasting any more manpower on this. Especially when the Gresham woman is still missing.”
Josie and Noah nodded.
Chitwood’s voice rose to a shout as he waved his hands upward, motioning for them to stand up. “What are you still doing here? Go, go!”
Forty-Two
Josie took the interstate. Luckily for them, it was early afternoon, so the traffic was light. They made it to Doylestown in just under an hour and a half. It was a sprawling, mid-sized town just north of Philadelphia. Josie and Noah stopped first at the local police station to let their department know that they were in town and what they intended to do, which wasn’t much more than asking Garrett Romney some questions. With the local chief’s blessing, they drove to the address they had for Romney. He lived in a large, blocky, four-story apartment building. The foyer was unlocked. They passed a row of metal mailboxes and found a staircase to take them to the third floor. Loud music could be heard behind the door to apartment 310. Noah rapped his knuckles against the door.
“Just a minute,” a male voice called.
They waited five. The door didn’t open. Noah knocked again. After a few seconds, the music cut off and the door swung open. Garrett stood before them. Josie had only seen photos of him in the press stories from two years earlier when Maya went missing. Time and the cloud of suspicion hadn’t been kind to him. In the photos she had seen, he was lean and well-groomed. The man before them now had a round, bearded face and a sizeable paunch. He wore a gray Lehigh University T-shirt with various food stains on it and a pair of cut-off sweatpants. His dark brown hair was greasy and uncombed. His small, dark eyes narrowed when he saw them. “Who are you?”
Josie and Noah flashed their credentials and introduced themselves. Garrett
started to close the door, but Josie put her foot near the doorframe, preventing him from shutting it in their faces. “Mr. Romney, you’re not in any trouble. We just have a couple of questions.”
He scowled. “A couple of questions. That’s how it starts. The next thing I know, you’re trying to charge me with murder. Well, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He tried to close the door once more, but Josie’s foot stayed firmly planted in the doorway. “Mr. Romney, we know you didn’t do anything wrong. We’re not even here for you. We’re looking for Maya Bestler.”
He stopped pushing against the door and looked from Josie to Noah and back. “What?”
Noah said, “We were wondering if you’d seen Maya Bestler today.”
He gave a nervous laugh. “Are you crazy? The cops called me and said she was found. It was some guy who took her. I’m innocent.”
“We believe you,” Josie said. “The facts bear that out. We’re not disputing that you’re innocent. But the fact is that you had a prior relationship with Ms. Bestler. She asked for you when she was brought to the hospital. I made it clear to her that you didn’t want to see her again.”
Noah said, “But today she left the hospital of her own accord. Since she asked about you several times, we thought she might come see you. We still have some things we need to discuss with her about her case.”
Now Garrett’s laughter was deep and raucous. He opened the door slightly and put a hand over his stomach. “You guys lost her! You lost her!”
Josie said, “She wasn’t in our custody, Mr. Romney. She was in the hospital recovering. When she left, she didn’t notify us of where she was going.”
Garrett’s hand moved from his stomach to his chest. “You think she came to see me? You think that bitch would have the nerve to show up here and ask me for help?”
“Would you help her?” Josie asked.
For a beat, Garrett looked stunned. Then he quickly collected himself. “Uh, no. I wouldn’t. She ruined my life. I’m done with her.”
“You wouldn’t want to give her hell for what she did?” Noah asked conversationally.
Garrett leveled a finger at Noah. A smile curved his lips. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to admit to shit so you can pin me with her disappearance for a second time. No way, pal. Not gonna happen. You think if you act like my friend and say some shit like, ‘Oh, don’t you want to hit her for what she did?’ that I’ll say something incriminating. Well, I got nothing to hide. I didn’t do anything.”
“Mr. Romney,” Josie interrupted, but he kept going.
“You all thought ’cause I got a little rough with her when we were going out that I killed her and buried her body. You were wrong. You know, if you knew her, you’d understand why it happened.”
“Why what happened?” Josie asked.
“Why I had to hit her. She can really twist a person up. You have no idea what she’s like. She pushed me. She pushed and pushed until I snapped. But I never meant to hurt her—and I didn’t. She wasn’t really injured. I sure as shit wouldn’t have killed her and buried her body. But none of you believed me. Now I’ve been proven innocent. I want her and everything to do with her out of my life. In fact…” He swung the door open wide. “You search my apartment right now.”
Noah held up a hand. “Mr. Romney, we’re only here to talk.”
Romney motioned them into his small apartment. “We can talk in here while you look around. Then you’ll see I have nothing to hide.”
Josie and Noah walked in. There wasn’t much to the place. In the small kitchen there was a dining table with four chairs tucked underneath it and a pile of mail, some unwashed dinner plates, and a tie were scattered across its surface. The small living room had only one gray couch with a pile of clothes—clean or dirty, Josie couldn’t tell—covering one cushion. More random items covered the coffee table: a couple of remote controls, a cell phone, keys, magazines, and a cardboard box. Noah poked his head into the bedrooms, bathroom, and closets while Josie asked, “So you haven’t heard from Maya since she was found? No phone calls? She didn’t show up here?”
Garrett shook his head emphatically. “Nothing.” He walked over to his coffee table and picked up the cardboard box. “Actually, after you called me, I dug this out of my closet. I was going to mail it to Maya’s parents’ house but since you’re here, you can have it.”
Noah came back into the room and took the box from Garrett. “What is this?” he asked.
“A bunch of shit from when Maya and I lived together. We used to rent a house across town. After she went missing, the police came and ransacked the place. They took a bunch of her stuff. Then her parents came and took the rest. Well these are things they both missed. I don’t want them at my place anymore. I told you, I’m done with her.”
Noah looked at Josie, one brow kinked slightly. It wasn’t really their job to courier belongings from one person to another, but in this case, it couldn’t hurt. She gave him a barely perceptible nod and to Garrett, she said, “We’ll make sure Sandy and Gus get this. They can give it to Maya when she comes home.” She almost said “if she comes home” but corrected herself before the words came out.
“Thank you for speaking with us,” she added. She pressed a business card into his hand, which he would probably toss into the garbage as soon as they left, and asked him to call them if Maya showed up on his doorstep.
As they walked back to their vehicle, Noah asked, “You think this guy is telling the truth?”
“Actually, I do,” Josie said.
“He was awfully insistent. I don’t know if I trust someone who tries to convince me with that much force.”
Josie laughed. “I think he’s just angry. I don’t think he’s overcompensating.”
They got into the car and she pulled out of the parking lot and started driving through the streets of Doylestown. “Maybe we’re just too early. She only had a couple of hours’ head start on us and she was on foot.”
Noah said, “You think he’d call us if she showed up?”
Josie shrugged. “Probably not. I think he’d slam the door in her face and that would be that. But we can stop at the police station again and ask the Doylestown PD to check in on him in the next couple of days and ask if she’s been by. That might buy us some time with Bowen, keep Michael Donovan behind bars a little longer.”
“Let’s do that,” Noah said. “Then we’ll head home.”
Forty-Three
After a quick stop back at the local police station, they got back on the road to Denton, but an accident near the interstate forced them to take a detour. Josie was two towns over when she spotted a building with the name “Lantz Snack Factory” above its front doors in large, glowing yellow letters. Without warning, she put on her turn signal and made a right into the parking lot.
“What are you doing?” Noah asked.
“This is where Jack Gresham worked right before he left to join the cult. That’s what Wes Yates told us.”
“We don’t have a warrant,” Noah said. “If you’re thinking of getting his personnel records.”
“We don’t need a warrant to ask questions,” Josie said.
She parked and they got out of the car. Josie pointed toward the side of the building. “There,” she said. “I see the loading docks. That’s where Wes said Jack worked. The front office isn’t going to tell us anything without a warrant. You’re right about that. But it’s not his personnel file I’m interested in. I want to know what people thought of him, how he acted when he was here.”
Together, they walked past several tractor trailers that were backed up to the massive loading dock, their doors yawning open, their cargo areas in various stages of loading. Men and one or two women moved briskly from the warehouse onto the dock. Some had clipboards, some drove forklifts with pallets of boxes on them, and others unloaded the boxes from the pallets and fit them into the backs of the trucks. Josie and Noah stopped for a moment to watch. Finally, Noah po
inted to a man wearing a black Philadelphia Eagles T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, a hard hat, and goggles. He was leaning on the back of a truck while a much younger man loaded boxes into it, trying to strike up a conversation with every person who walked by. Noah said, “We should start with him.”
Josie smiled and followed Noah over to the loading dock steps. Sure enough, the moment they alighted onto the dock, the man in the hard hat called out. “Hey, you can’t be up here. Hey!”
Josie and Noah had their credentials ready, flashing them at him as he jogged over. The man squinted at their badges and IDs. “Denton?” he said. “Where’s that?”
Noah answered, “About an hour and a half west of here. We’re sorry to bother you, uh…?”
“Tim,” the man filled in.
“Tim,” Noah repeated. “We have a case right now involving a guy we think used to work here.”
Tim looked over his shoulder, but all of his colleagues had gone back to work. Probably getting more done now that he was distracted, Josie thought. “Well, the front office could tell you…”
He drifted off and Josie filled his silence. “We were told that this gentleman worked back here with you guys. Maybe you remember him. Jack Gresham?”
She took out her phone and swiped until she found one of the photos of Jack she’d saved from Tyler Yates’ Facebook pictures.
Tim’s lips twisted in thought, one hand reaching up to scratch the top of his helmet. “Sure, I remember him. Didn’t remember his name, but I remember him. Couldn’t get a smile outta that guy if you offered him a million dollars.”
Noah said, “Guess he didn’t make a lot of friends here, then?”
Tim shook his head slowly, his eyes still drawn to the photo. “No, no friends here. You know, we’re a pretty close group, but there was no getting to that guy. He was a weirdo.”
“We were told he got fired,” Josie said.
The man’s eyes flicked from Josie’s phone to her face. “Oh yeah, there was that business with the girl in receiving.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Shana. Been in the office up there about five years. Nice kid.”