James Grippando - The Abduction

“Mark David Chapman.”

“Right, Chapman. He was just a regular guy when Lennon went into relative obscurity. But as soon as his idol starts to make a big comeback, Chapman snaps and shoots him in the back.”

“Chapman had psychological problems that we can’t assume about Mitch. All we know for sure about your ex-fiancé is that he got drunk and cursed you out at a black-tie event.”

“What about the photograph-the scarlet letter message?”

“We don’t know that he sent it.”

“Who else could it be?”

“The lab is analyzing it. Maybe they can tell us. I should be getting a report soon.”

“What are the forensic experts telling you?”

He scoffed with sarcasm. “Unfortunately, I’ve been playing in a golf tournament all week. I haven’t had time to talk to them.”

“Get them on the phone. This is important. I want to talk to them now.”

“Allison-”

“Just get them on the phone. I don’t have time to wait around for a typed and bound report in triplicate.”

“Hold on,” he said with a sigh. Allison drummed her fingers, waiting. After thirty seconds, the line clicked for the conference call.

“Allison Leahy,” said Harley, “I have Dr. Gus Eversol on the line, from our lab at headquarters.”

“Good morning, Doctor.”

“Good morning,” he replied. “Abrams tells me you would like a preliminary report.”

“Yes. A preliminary report. I suppose that’s an appropriate label. Or as my dear old mentor used to say, tell me what the hell you’ve figured out so far.”

Eversol stuttered, then spoke in the stilted voice of a scientist. “I have two preliminary findings at this time. The first shall come as no surprise to you. The active ingredient in the red substance used to create the message on the photograph is octyl methoxycinnamate. It also includes lesser quantities of petrolatum, polybutene, microcrystalline wax, castor oil, lanolin, and propylene carbonate. But, as I say, that comes as no surprise.”

Allison said, “Are you trying to say it’s lipstick, as we suspected all along?”

“Uh, yes. Lipstick.”

“What kind?”

“That’s something I haven’t narrowed down as yet. They’re all very similar, so pinpointing an exact brand is not as easy as you might think. In any event, you may find it more interesting to know that, in addition to the traditional ingredients of lipstick, I have isolated one definite foreign substance.”

“What kind of foreign substance?” asked Harley.

“Human saliva.”

Allison winced with disbelief. “Doctor, are you saying that somebody scrawled that message on the photograph with a tube of used lipstick?”

“Precisely,” he replied.

The line went silent. Finally Allison spoke. “Can you tell anything as yet about the person who may have used this particular lipstick?”

“Not really. In an hour or so I should have a blood type, and I should know whether the person is a secretor or a nonsecretor. The genetic testing will take a little longer, but I will positively determine the sex. In the meantime, if you wanted to play the odds, I suppose you might go ahead and assume it’s a woman.”

Allison said, “I’d like to identify her, if possible. Do you have enough saliva to do DNA testing?”

“Certainly. Just bring me a sample to compare it with. Blood, hair. Whatever you can get from your suspect.”

“That’s very helpful,” said Allison. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll be in touch. Harley, stay on the line.” She waited for Eversol’s line to click, then continued. “Harley, do you have any female suspects?”

“Not really.”

“What about that woman who was shot in her apartment in Philadelphia?”

“Yeah, Diane Combs, but that’s a long shot. My original theory was that the stolen Camaro with the Tennessee tags found outside her apartment had been used to transport Kristen, but we scoured the entire vehicle and didn’t find a single hair or fiber from Kristen. Whoever stole it doesn’t have a criminal record, either, since none of the fingerprints in the car or in the apartment turned up a match. I guess what I’m saying is that we’re making a double inference here. We’re assuming the photo is connected to the kidnapping, and we’re assuming that Combs was connected to the kidnappers.”

She kneaded her brow, thinking. “What can it hurt? Call the morgue and get a tissue sample.”

“Will do. But I’d still like to broaden the search. Maybe pursue some other suspects simultaneously.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any other female suspects.”

“True. But we could just proceed by process of elimination.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that we assume everything is connected, like you say. Or let’s at least assume that the scarlet letter photo you received last month is connected to Kristen’s abduction. We start by eliminating the women with a direct connection to Emily, to the photo, or to Kristen.”

“Harley, I didn’t send the damn photo to myself .”

“Okay, that eliminates one mother. There’s still another.”

Allison shook her head. “No way Tanya Howe’s dirty. I’d bet my life on that.”

“I agree. I guess I was thinking more along the lines of a grandmother than a mother.”

Allison sank in her chair. “You mean Natalie Howe?”

The line crackled with Harley’s sigh, as if he were thinking very hard before he spoke. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not in my lifetime,” she scoffed.

“I’m right here in Nashville. Are you saying you don’t want me to check it out?”

She bit her lip, weighing it. “I’m saying you’d better be discreet.”

Harley had slept only four hours since arriving in Nashville last night, having risen well before the Saturday morning sun. At 8:00 A.M. he’d held a case briefing for the Metro Nashville Police, Davidson County Sheriff’s Department and various other local law enforcement agencies involved in the multi-jurisdictional task force. He’d spent another hour with his key people at the local command center-the lead room manager, the hot-line operators and investigators, and their local supervisors. The system was apparently working well. Each agency was using uniform lead sheets and hot-line intake forms, uniform summary reports and tracking forms, uniform statement forms and consent forms. Follow-up appeared to be good as well. All information was properly collected, entered into the computer database, analyzed, and compared. As far as Harley could tell, there was just one problem. No Kristen.

The unexpected phone call from Allison hadn’t really changed his plans, though it was mid-afternoon before he was able to set aside a block of time to visit Tanya Howe’s residence in Enchanted Hills. The most positive thing to come out of last night’s meeting, in Harley’s view, was that Allison had secured Tanya’s agreement to allow the FBI back inside to monitor her phones. The technical agents had arrived early Saturday and should have been fully operational by now. Harley was stopping by not so much to check on their work-those guys knew what they were doing-but to let Tanya know that she had the ear of someone in the FBI with authority. And to take a closer look at Natalie Howe-discreetly.

Natalie greeted him at the door, pleasant and presentable. Some mothers and even grandmothers neglected their appearance in times like these. Not Natalie Howe. Hair looked good, makeup was in place.

She wore lipstick, too. Red.

“Come in, please,” she said.

Harley nodded appreciatively as she took his coat and led him down the hall to the family room.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Abrams? Coffee? Tea?”