Elizabeth Heiter - Stalked

She sighed, wishing there was an easy answer. “Maybe. He was quick to insist he hadn’t heard from her, but when I asked if he was positive she was okay, he looked like he wasn’t sure. Still, it is odd he’s not more worried about her condition or where she might be, who she could have run off with. That could be a sign he’s not concerned because he knows the answer. His behavior was a little contradictory.”

Sophia tapped her hands on the wheel in a frustrated thump-thump-thump, and then started up the engine. “What do we need to do so you can point us in a solid direction? I’m running in circles with this case. And if Haley’s out there somewhere, I want to bring her home.”

As she pulled out of the driveway and Evelyn watched the curtain flutter back into place in Bill’s front window, Sophia added, “And if Bill’s abuse claims are legit, I want to deal with that, too.”

“Let’s talk to Linda and Pete, then,” Evelyn said. “Profiling isn’t a Magic 8 Ball. I can’t just talk to someone for ten minutes and tell you if he did it. But once I get a better handle on all the players, I should be able to help you narrow your search.”

Sophia’s phone rang, cutting off any reply she’d been about to make. She pressed the phone to her ear as she turned onto the street. “Lopez.”

There was a pause, and although Evelyn couldn’t hear whatever was being said on the other end of the call, Sophia’s suddenly furious expression told her it was bad news.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sophia said into the phone, then gave a heavy sigh and said, “Yeah, I’ll deal with it.”

She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the console, muttering, “Un-fucking-believable.”

“What is it?”

“You wanted to meet Haley’s mom?” Sophia gunned the engine. “Let’s do that now. I’ve got some things I want to say to her myself.”

“What was the call about?” Evelyn asked, bracing her elbow against the door as Sophia took the turns out of Bill Cooke’s neighborhood too fast.

“As if that TV interview wasn’t enough, someone just posted a picture of Haley’s note online.”

“What?” Evelyn gaped at her.

“You heard me,” Sophia said. “Now the whole world knows that Haley predicted someone was going to kill her. Which means all the wackos who weren’t already calling our tip line claiming to have seen her are going to start now, claiming to have killed her.”

“And it tells everyone with an internet connection that the person who grabbed Haley Cooke is probably someone she knows,” Evelyn said.

“Yep,” Sophia agreed. “Which means whoever did it knows we could be on to him. That person could be destroying evidence as we speak. And if Haley was wrong, and someone had been keeping her alive before...”

“He might worry we’re going to start focusing on people Haley knows, and that could make him act.”

“Yeah. If Haley didn’t predict her own death before, whoever leaked that note might have just caused it.”

3

“He’s lying.” Linda Varner stood in the doorway of her house, arms crossed over her chest. Her husband stood behind her, peering over her shoulder.

While Linda was an odd mixture of pissed off and frayed nerves, Pete Varner just glared suspiciously. Evelyn pegged Linda as being in her midfifties, but Pete had to be a decade younger. He had a weight lifter’s build, and his long, thin face seemed mismatched to his body. He stuck close to Linda, as though he was trying to protect her.

Still, he seemed oddly at ease. After less than thirty seconds in Linda’s presence, Evelyn felt the woman’s twitchy nerves transferring to her, but Pete was calm.

Sophia visibly tensed and Evelyn could tell she was working hard to stay composed. “Who’s lying?”

“My ex-husband,” Linda said. “He called here, made a big fuss about you visiting him. He obviously thought we sent you, which—”

“We know what that bastard said,” Pete Varner interrupted his wife.

“He’s been claiming from the start that Haley ran away from home.” Linda opened the door wide for them. “If you’d believed his lies about Haley running away and he’d prevented the police from investigating, I would have killed him.”

“I’m not sure you want to say that to a police detective,” Sophia muttered, stepping inside and adding, “This is FBI profiler Evelyn Baine. She’s consulting on your daughter’s case.”

Linda’s wide eyes darted to Evelyn and she gripped Evelyn’s outstretched hand with both of hers. In contrast to Bill Cooke’s rough, strong grip, Linda’s freezing-cold hands felt desperate and shaky.

Evelyn studied her closely, taking in the bloodshot eyes Linda had tried to disguise with heavy coats of mascara.

Pete wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, making Linda drop Evelyn’s hand.

The move was somehow both protective and aggressive, and Evelyn hid a frown. Could there be merit to Bill Cooke’s claim? Was Pete just watching out for a wife who’d been thrust into the spotlight after personal tragedy? Or was he keeping her within sight at all times to make sure she didn’t spill a secret he wanted to keep hidden?

“Did you find something?” Linda asked frantically, bringing Evelyn’s attention back to her. She clutched her husband’s arm, her fingernails biting into his skin. “Did you make a profile we can see? Of the person who took her?”

“Actually,” Sophia said, “we’re here to talk about how one or both of you is hindering our investigation, and could be hurting our chances of bringing Haley safely home.”

Evelyn tried not to grimace at the harsh tactic, especially since Haley could already be dead, but she knew how badly media leaks could damage a case.

“Wh-what?” Linda stuttered, leaning backward, even though there was nowhere to go, with her husband pressed against her back.

“Someone released a picture of the note from Haley’s notebook onto the web this afternoon,” Sophia continued, moving closer until she was practically in Linda’s face. “Between that and your little stunt on the news, you’re putting our investigation—and possibly your daughter—at risk.”

“I—I...” Linda’s face went so pale that Evelyn actually stepped forward to catch her if she fell.

Not that it would be necessary, since her husband practically had a death grip around her shoulders. He was glaring at them, but there was something else in his eyes that gave Evelyn chills.

Recognition made her breathe faster and her fists clench. She knew that look. The look of someone who felt sure he held all the power. Someone who thrived on control, usually at the expense of others.

A memory flashed through her mind, of a man who looked nothing like Pete Varner. A man who’d dated her mother, but who’d stared at ten-year-old Evelyn with a predatory intensity. A man she’d known instantly to try to avoid.

She’d done her best, which was difficult with a mother prone to passing out on the couch, surrounded by the stink of stale vodka. She’d escaped a very bad fate through pure luck and a little desperate ingenuity. If the flimsy lock she’d latched on the bathroom door hadn’t held long enough for her to climb out the window...

Evelyn’s attention shifted to Linda and she noticed the glaze over the woman’s eyes. Had she started taking medication to numb the pain of her daughter’s disappearance or had she been on painkillers before?

Anger flooded, and she knew it was directed more toward her own mother than at Linda Varner.

It must have shown on her face, because Pete suddenly snapped, “Leave her alone,” bringing Evelyn’s focus back to the conversation. “We had nothing to do with leaking the note.”