Elusive Identities

by Olivia Jaymes

She could practically see the wheels turning in his head. It was funny how they'd known each other such a short time but they could read each other like a book.

  "Just because Kelly wasn't a good person doesn't mean that I can't be related to her."

  The age-old question reared its ugly head. Nature or nurture? Was it blood or environment that shaped who a person was? If Ella and Kelly were family, how much personality did they share?

  "It doesn't mean that you are, either." Chris sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "The whole issue here is that Kelly and Jane aren't here to tell us about themselves. All we're going to get when we do these interviews is someone's opinion about them. And everyone's got an opinion. They also often have an agenda to make themselves look better in comparison. So what you're hearing may not even be true."

  "You think Sheri is lying?"

  "Maybe. Maybe not. But the brain does funny things as time passes, Ella. She's had thirty years to think about Kelly and that last night. Thirty years to forget details, embellish others, maybe even add some to make a better story. All we know is what she told us. Until we have corroboration that's all it is...a story."

  A story. That might not even be true.

  "I should know that," Ella sighed, letting her head fall back against the seat. "I'm a goddamn reporter, after all. Eyewitness testimony is the worst."

  "It is. I'm not saying Sheri is lying, and I'm not saying she has a personal agenda. We just need to take her story with a grain of salt."

  Ella pointed to the phone he held in the other hand. "Did you send your office a message about Tim Wagner?"

  "I did. I also sent a message about that earring. I didn't see anything in the police inventory report about it."

  "That's why you doubt Jane is Kelly."

  Chris gave her a lopsided smile. "That's just one of the reasons I have questions. And I have questions because I'm a cop."

  "Not really."

  "Close enough." Chris started the engine and backed out of the parking lot. "Are you ready for our next stop? I can drop you at the office if you don't want to do this."

  "No way. I'm going."

  The need was even stronger, more forceful now. She had to know the truth. No matter what it was.

  16

  The next stop was Henry Johnson, a little gray-haired man in an assisted living facility. Henry was a smiling, cheerful man who invited them into his apartment and offered them lemonade and shortbread cookies. When they said no thank you, he dove into the plate himself, munching on one as he answered Chris's questions.

  "What was your daughter's name, Henry?"

  "Sarah. Sarah Johnson. She was eighteen when she disappeared. She went to visit a friend one day and never came back."

  Ella was beginning to realize just how many missing persons there were just in this area alone. Chris had a printout from the computer pages long of women that had gone missing within a five-hundred-mile radius in the two years before Jane's body was found.

  "No communication? No letters or calls?"

  Henry shook his head, his happy smile vanished. "Just gone. We looked for a long time. We talked to all of Sarah's friends and we put up posters in the neighborhood but we never heard anything. It was like she'd disappeared off the face of the earth. For years after that I looked for her in a crowd, wonder what she might be doing. But eventually you lose hope. I always felt something bad must have happened because my Sarah would have never left like that. No word and all."

  "Do you have any pictures of your daughter?"

  Henry pointed to the bookcase against the wall. "Over in those photo albums. Do you mind? I don't get around like I used to. Damn arthritis."

  "I'll get them." Ella jumped up, glad to be able to move around and be useful. Sitting and thinking wasn't the best way to spend her day and all it did was give her a nasty headache. "Both of these?"

  "One of them is the kids when they were little...Try that blue one. I think that's it."

  The album was large, heavy, and a little dusty. She sat back down and opened it up on her lap, faded pictures tucked into the brittle plastic pockets.

  A younger-looking Henry. A pretty dark-haired woman that was probably Sarah's mother.

  A teenaged boy that resembled his father, and a teenaged girl who resembled the drawing.

  Sort of.

  But not like Kelly had. This was a more superficial resemblance. Both had long dark hair and a pointed chin but the eyes and nose weren't quite right.

  Chris leaned over to see as well. "Is this Sarah?"

  "That's my Sarah and her brother David. Good kids. A little wild but nothing too crazy."

  There were pages of photos of them as a family. Christmas. Easter. Birthdays.

  "Where's David now?" Ella asked, paging through the album and pausing when saw a picture of brother and sister together posing next to the tree in Christmas pajamas.

  "He's a corporate attorney in New York City. Successful, too. I'm sure Sarah would have been as well. They were smart kids. Good grades. I was proud of them."

  Chris was scribbling in that notebook again, his gaze on his writing and not on the photos. He was the smart one. She, on the other hand, was fascinated by the pictures of this everyday seemingly normal family.

  Were they her biological family? As before with Kelly, Ella didn't feel any sense of connection. No tug of familiarity. If she'd thought that somehow she'd just know...she was completely wrong. There was nothing, just a blank feeling that all of these people were strangers. Which they were in reality, but somehow she'd fooled herself into believing it might be different.

  "Can you tell me what Sarah was wearing the last time you saw her?"

  Henry shook his head sadly. "It was too long ago. I don't remember."

  "You said you talked to her friends. Did they have any idea where she might be? Any names?"

  Henry shook his head again. "I just don't remember their names. I'm not as young as I used to be."

  "Did you call the police? File a missing persons?"

  "I did, but I never heard anything. Like I said, we eventually just gave up." Henry's brows raised. "Do you think it's my Sarah? She needs to be put to rest finally. We never had a service or anything for her."

  "I don't know," Chris replied, tucking his notebook back into his bag. "If I had someone stop by tomorrow would you be willing to give a DNA sample, Henry? They'd just swab your cheek and that would be it. It's the easiest way to tell if you're family to the deceased."

  "Absolutely. I'm here every day pretty much. Don't get out like I used to." He gave Ella a smile and a wink. "It's nice to see a pretty face around here."

  Chris asked a few more questions and then they bid Henry goodbye, climbing into his car and heading back to the office. They had some research to do. Chris wanted to speak to David Johnson, and he wanted details about Tim Wagner.

  They had far more questions than answers.

  When Chris dropped her off at the station later that day, Ella wearily plodded back to her cubicle, wanting to get some of her thoughts down regarding the case.

  Not about her and the case. Just the case.

  It wasn't going to be easy but she had to be professional about this. Somehow she needed to find a way to divorce herself from the process of finding out Jane's identity and simply be a reporter, telling the audience the facts. No judgment, no gut feelings. Just facts.

  And the facts were in short supply at the moment. After a day of interviewing people, they didn't know much more than they did this morning when she'd been filled with coffee and optimism. They had a few leads to follow up - which was a positive turn - but it was all still up in the air.

  What did I expect? To solve a thirty-year-old case in one day? Not likely.

  It would have been nice, though. It was her impatient nature. She wanted the truth and she wanted it now. Life didn't work that way and Jane's identity wasn't going to be any different.

  Flipping open her laptop, she began typing out notes from the day
. Facts only. No impressions or feelings. She summed it all up with their next steps.

  "I thought you'd gone home already."

  Galen was leaning over the short wall of her cubicle, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and the usual scowl on his face. Seriously, the man never slept. He was here no matter how early she came in and here late into the evening.

  "I just got here, actually. Thought I'd take a few minutes and write down some notes from today."

  "Productive?"

  That was Galen's standard question to all his reporters. What he really meant was did she waste her - and technically his - time today.

  "It was, although it's early in the investigation. We talked to some of the people from the tip line."

  "Anyone we could put on air?"

  Heavens to Betsy no.

  "It's too soon to say who might be good for the story," she replied instead of the flat negative she wanted. This was her boss, after all. "We have a hell of a lot more tips to follow up on."

  Galen took a sip of his coffee and then rapped the cubicle wall with his knuckles. "I'd like you to do an update tomorrow. Ninety seconds. We'll flash the picture and tip line again plus some commentary from you."

  "Right. Got it."

  This was her job and she'd begged Galen to let her cover this story. She needed to do her damn job.

  "Maybe get that guy to answer a few questions on camera. Put a face to the investigation."

  Wait...

  "Chris? You want to put him on the air?"

  He'd hate that. He didn't like attention. She'd learned that quickly.

  "Sure, why not? Is he ugly or something? Kind of stupid? Little slow?"

  Not in the least. Chris was too handsome, if anything, and very smart.

  "No, he's just more of an under the radar kind of guy. I don't know if they want the attention."

  "Whatever you decide but I want to put a personal spin on this story. The loss, the unknown for all of these years. How the public can help...that sort of thing. They eat that shit up. I want a regular update on this murder case. People love killers and forensics." He leaned farther over the cubicle wall. "This could be very good for your career, Ella. Play this right and it could take you far."

  Her throat tightened with an unnamed emotion. She wasn't sure if it was good or bad but she was becoming too used to being in turmoil. She didn't even question it now, simply enduring it until the next wave came over her.

  "I suppose it could," she managed without choking. "This case...means a lot."

  His eyes narrowed at her reply. "Just take some advice, okay? From a guy that's been doing this for a damn long time. Don't let it get personal. Don't let it get into your head. That victim has been dead for a long time and nothing you do is going to bring her back to life. Report the news and move on to the next story. Don't make someone else's problems your problems."

  With that Galen turned and strode away, his footsteps fading on the tile floor. He would be in his office working until the wee hours.

  As for his advice, Ella would love to have taken it but it was simply too late. These might be her problems whether she wanted them or not. She'd chosen to go after the truth and there was no turning back now.

  17

  The next morning, Chris took a gulp of his way too hot coffee - his second of the day - and felt it burn all the way to his stomach. He needed to let the damn thing cool off a bit but he desperately needed the caffeine. He'd slept like shit last night, his brain far too busy to let him rest. Realizing he wasn't going to get any more sleep he'd come into the office as soon as he'd dropped Annie at school.

  Taking a bite of his cruller, he picked up his phone and punched some numbers. He needed to talk to the former detective Wallace Wade and it was finally a decent hour to call. Chris's mom had drilled it into her son's head that it would be rude to call before eight in the morning.

  It was seven-fifty-nine. Close enough. The guy ran a bed and breakfast. Chris was betting he didn't get to sleep in very often.

  "I hope it's not to early to call. I had a question I was hoping you could answer."

  "Hell, no," Wally's voice boomed on the other end of the line. "I was up with the chickens. What can I help you with?"

  "I know I'm testing your memory here but I was wondering if you remembered Jane Doe's belongings including one earring. It would have been a long gold chain. I didn't see it in the inventory of personal possessions but I know that sometimes small items like that can be overlooked or lumped together under the generic term jewelry."

  It was a long shot, but Sheri had been adamant that Kelly had been wearing it that night. If it wasn't in her belongings, it was an indication that Jane and Kelly might not be the same person.

  "I can't say that I remember that, no," Wally replied. "But that was a long time ago and my memory isn't what it used to be. Funny, I can remember riding bikes with my brothers around the neighborhood but I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. I think it was pancakes but I'd have to ask the wife to be sure."

  "That's okay, Wally. I was just checking. If you remember it later will you give me a call?"

  "I sure will. Now don't be a stranger. You and your friends stop by anytime. I have other stories I can tell, and if you come later in the day we can all have a beer."

  They could have a beer. Chris would have a water or soda.

  "I bet you do. We'll do that soon. Thanks again, Wally."

  They ended the call and Chris made a checkmark on his to-do list. It was far too long to finish in one day, hell, even two or three days, but it felt good to actually mark an item as done.

  The office was starting to come to life, although non-attendance didn't mean they weren't working. Knox had an early meeting with a witness today and Jared often worked from home when he was doing deep research.

  Logan had been in his office on the phone but he stuck his head out now, motioning to Chris.

  "Do you have a minute?" Logan asked. "I have some info from Jared."

  "Sure." Standing, Chris headed for his boss's office, closing the door behind him. "What do you got?"

  "Quite a bit. Might as well sit down. You may or may not like some of it. First of all, we checked into Henry Johnson and his daughter Sarah. Jared talked to David, Henry's son. He said that his dad is...how do I say this? Delusional. Apparently Henry Johnson was a real son of a bitch for a parent and Sarah took off the minute she graduated from high school. David wasn't far behind but he keeps in touch with the old man. Sarah doesn't and she has good reason. She took the brunt of her dad's temper and she's not the type to forgive and forget. He said that he heard from Sarah a few years ago. She reached out to him and was alive and well and living in Chicago with her husband and two children. He doesn't know if she's still there but she was fine. I asked Jared that when he has a chance to track her down and get her address and phone number for the son so they can reconnect."

  "I guess that's one off of the list," Chris said with a sigh. "And it's good news that Sarah is alive. I can cancel Henry's DNA test. What should I tell him?"

  "You don't have to tell him anything. His son is going to call him today. He apologized this his father wasted our time." Logan rubbed his chin. "Getting old is hell. Johnson's mind has created an entire scenario to deal with his daughter's absence."

  "Except the truth."

  Logan nodded solemnly. "Agreed. It's probably difficult for the man to admit that he drove his own child away."

  "He seemed like a nice guy, too. Friendly, jovial. I never would have guessed."

  "Those are the ones you have to watch out for."

  Logan would know.

  "I also have news about Tim Wagner," Logan continued. "He's passed on. Years ago. Leukemia. The daughter would have been less than two years old. His mother had a heart attack about a month later, but an adoption was already in the works. He must have known that his mom couldn't take care of the little girl."

  "And Kelly was already dead," Chris croaked. "
Ella could be that little girl."

  "It's possible."

  Logan then picked up a piece of paper on his desk, holding it out. "The interns worked late last night and found the missing persons report for Kelly Perkins. Interesting thing about it is that it wasn't her friend that filed it. It was her husband. Steve Adams."

  Husband?

  "I'm floored," Chris admitted. "This is the first we've heard of a husband. Sheri never mentioned him."

  "Maybe Sheri wasn't that good of a friend after all," Logan observed. "Remember all we have is her perception of that time. Like Henry Johnson, she may have changed it up a little. Either way, we have a name and address on the guy. I'm guessing you'll want to talk to him."

  Right away, if not sooner.

  "Thanks, I will. I have a lot of questions for him."

  Logan's hand was on another folder but he didn't move it from its spot on the desk. "I have something else for you. I wanted to give it to you when your friend Ella wasn't here."

  That didn't sound good. What could possibly be that bad?

  "Okay, but now I'm a little nervous about it."

  The corner of Logan's mouth turned up. "I simply wanted you to take a look at it and decide if you wanted to show it to her. This is your case and she's helping you so I'll trust your judgment."

  That was good...being trusted and all. But it still didn't tell him what Logan had in the folder.

  "Thank you."

  This time Logan did hand him the folder. It wasn't thick, but it was full of official-looking forms. Before Chris could identify the contents, Logan spoke again.

  "It's Kelly Perkins' police file. She had a record."

  Shit.

  "Please let me she had a lead foot or that she parked in front of fire hydrants."

  "Sadly, no. Try possession and prostitution."

  Chris's head jerked up. "A prostitute? She was a hooker?"

  "And a user. That poor girl lived a hard life and frankly, I'm not surprised she ended up young and dead. The odds weren't in her favor."

  "Fuck," Chris muttered under his breath. "No wonder you didn't want Ella to see this."