Elizabeth Heiter - Vanished

* * *

There was just one man from the original list of suspects who hadn’t been cleared or moved out of state in the past eighteen years. And he didn’t match the profile in a very key way.

Still, with Walter Wiggins not talking, he was the best lead Evelyn had. She’d checked with Carly and discovered he was on their list for follow-up, but it hadn’t happened yet, because he wasn’t a high priority. Then she’d checked with Tomas and learned that the only officer not running down other leads was his head detective, Jack Bullock.

So, the two of them were driving to the nearby town of Treighton. They’d been on the road for fifteen minutes, but Jack had kept up a steady stream of questions that gave no sign of ending.

“If you think Darnell Conway is worth investigating, does that mean we should just disregard your entire profile?” Jack kept his tone casual, his hands loose on the wheel of his police vehicle. But the question fairly screamed his resentment.

Evelyn didn’t even glance his way. “You read the Charlotte Novak file, right? You know why I want to talk to him.”

“So, the profile...”

“Can have details that are off. The thing is to focus on the profile as a whole, not fixate on a particular point.”

“That’s a pretty huge point.”

Evelyn shifted in her seat to face him. “The murder of his girlfriend’s daughter was never solved. But after the investigation went cold, Darnell and his girlfriend left the state and came here. Do you know how old Charlotte would’ve been eighteen years ago, at the time of the first abduction, if she’d lived?”

Jack’s mocking expression slipped off. “You’re kidding.”

“She would’ve been twelve that summer. Same as the Nursery Rhyme Killer’s original three victims.”

“So, then why the hell aren’t those other FBI agents—the ones who specialize in this—chasing this guy down with everything they’ve got?”

Evelyn shrugged. “He was never arrested for that crime. He was a suspect, but obviously the cops didn’t have enough on him to make a case. It’s possible he didn’t do it. He’s got no other criminal history. And that case is the only reason he showed up on the list of suspects eighteen years ago. Which was probably a lucky fluke, since he was never charged.”

“That’s some fluke. How did they find out?”

“He was part of the search parties back then. The profiler had a weird feeling about him and did some digging. And I trust the profiler’s gut on this. I just want to feel Darnell out, see how he responds to my questions.”

“What if he’s the perp? You said not to get too close to Wiggins so we wouldn’t scare him into killing Brittany if he’s got her. Isn’t the same true here?”

Evelyn leaned her head back against the headrest, still tired from the mob scene that afternoon. She glanced at her watch, realizing it had now been a full twenty-four hours since Brittany was grabbed.

She closed her eyes, trying not to dwell on something she couldn’t change, but she could hear it in her voice when she told Jack, “If Darnell did kill his girlfriend’s daughter, it was within a few hours. Walter is different. His MO was to get his victims comfortable with him first. He wanted to believe they were willing participants. That’s part of his fantasy.”

“Okay, but just like Wiggins...”

“I know. Darnell Conway would probably be noticed on High Street. But I need to check. And there’s only so much I can tell from a copy of a cold case file. I need to see Darnell’s face when I ask him about it.”

Jack gave her a pensive glance as he drove over the bridge separating Rose Bay from Treighton. Fifty feet below them, the water looked calm in the fading light. Peaceful.

That instantly transported her back to when she was ten and she’d first come to live in Rose Bay. Her grandpa’s car had been too warm as they drove over the bridge in the middle of the night. She’d kept quiet, knowing the heat was for her—wearing a pair of threadbare, tattered pajamas and no shoes. Her grandpa had tried so hard not to let her see his anger, his sadness, his guilt.

His weathered hand had folded around hers as they drove, as he’d promised her she’d never have to go back. She was going to live with him and Grandma from now on and they would take care of her. They would protect her.

She’d never been more sheltered than her first two years with her grandparents. But then Cassie had disappeared. And the world had seemed to slide out from under her again.

“...don’t you think?”

“What?”

Jack sent her a perturbed look and she saw that he was on his cell phone.

“Well, maybe you should try to get the dad to let you in the house now.” A pause. “He refused? You think he has something to hide?”

“What’s going on?” Evelyn asked.

“Okay. Fine. Bye.” When he hung up, Jack told her, “Wiggins woke up. He’s in pretty bad shape, though, so they’re keeping him in the hospital. Apparently he’s not too happy about it, but he doesn’t want to press charges against Brittany’s dad. Which is good. Shit like that—protecting the perverts and criminals—is not why I became a cop.”

“So Walter’s dad won’t let police search the house?”

“You got it. You think he knows the girl is there?”

Evelyn shook her head. “I doubt it. I know he wants to protect his son, but that’s taking it pretty far. I’ve seen the families of pedophiles do their best to deny what their kid is, even when the proof is staring them in the face. But to be complicit in the abduction? You know his dad better than I do, but that seems like a stretch.”

Jack nodded. “True. Though his dad’s in bad health these days. I doubt he can walk down those basement stairs anymore. Maybe in his heart he knows she’s there, but just doesn’t want to believe it?”

Evelyn felt her lips twist downward. “Unfortunately, that’s a real possibility.”

When Jack’s hands clutched the wheel so hard the muscles in his arms bunched, Evelyn added, “But honestly, I still have a real problem seeing Walter being able to stalk and abduct a girl here. He’s got motive, sure, but means and opportunity?”

“Well, he’s at the top of my list,” Jack said as he pulled onto a dark street. “And frankly, a black guy like Darnell Conway on High Street would get noticed, too, especially eighteen years ago. Isn’t that why you profiled the killer as white?”

Evelyn didn’t answer as she gazed out the window at Darnell’s neighborhood. The houses were small and close together, the yards overgrown; beware of dog signs were posted everywhere. Every house was in need of a coat of paint, most needed new roofs and every yard could have benefitted from an attempt to landscape. The sun was setting, making it hard to see, but Evelyn would bet there wasn’t a single flower on the entire street. From the broken plastic kid’s slide in the front yard of one house to the car without wheels up on cinder blocks in the next, the whole street was depressing.

The house Jack pulled up to was the best of the bunch by far. Darnell Conway might not have planted a garden, but he’d at least mowed his lawn. As they walked up to the front porch, they discovered he definitely believed in security. Next to Darnell’s beware of dog sign was a security company sign; the lock on the door meant business, and all the shades were blackout-style.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Seems like he’s got something in here he wants to keep locked tight.”

Evelyn nodded, frowning. “I noticed that.”

“And judging by the lack of barking, I’m thinking most of those dog signs are for show.”

“It is pretty silent,” Evelyn agreed, glancing around. The kind of neighborhood where no one saw anything.