Amanda Stevens - The Innocent

“I haven’t had a chance to do more than glance at the report,” Agent Burke said tersely. “Why don’t you two bring me up to speed? Later, I’ll want to have a look at the case files. All three, if the first abduction seems pertinent.”

“Oh, I’d say it’s pertinent, all right.” Sheriff Mooney shot Abby a glance. “Emily Campbell disappeared from the playground at Fairhaven Academy ten years to the day that Sadie Cross was abducted.”

“What about the third child? Sara Beth Brodie.” Abby had been watching the agent’s face closely, and she thought she detected a tightening of his features, a darkening in his eyes when he mentioned Sara Beth. But perhaps that was just her imagination. The man was already about as tense as he could get and had been since the moment he walked through the door. Abby had a feeling the austerity was normal for him.

“Abby?” She almost jumped when Sheriff Mooney said her name. She’d let her mind drift from the conversation, and now she realized they were waiting for her to speak, but she had no idea what the question had been.

Great, she thought dryly. Nothing like first impressions.

Her gaze met Sam Burke’s, and she thought she could discern a flicker of disdain in those icy gray depths.

“Why don’t you tell Agent Burke your theory?” Sheriff Mooney prompted.

“Shouldn’t Lieutenant Conyers be in on this meeting?” she asked, referring to the lead detective on the Emily Campbell case.

“Should be, but he’s not.” Sheriff Mooney glanced at his watch and scowled. Dave Conyers wasn’t known around the department for his promptness, nor for his consideration of others. If he’d missed a meeting called by the sheriff, it could be that he was following a hot lead. Or it could be he’d decided to stop off and have a cold beer. You never knew with Dave. “We don’t have time to wait for him,” the sheriff grumbled. “Go ahead and give Special Agent Burke your thoughts on both cases.”

Abby’s gaze moved reluctantly back to the agent. “I agree the school seems to be the obvious connection, but I’m not convinced the same suspect perpetrated all three crimes.”

Sam Burke lifted a dark brow. “Why not?”

“Partly it’s just a gut feeling,” Abby admitted, bracing herself for the agent’s condescension. “I agree with Sheriff Mooney that the disappearances are connected—maybe by the school, maybe in some other way—but that doesn’t mean we’re looking for only one suspect.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. Agent Burke’s gaze, so intense, was a little unnerving. “Emily Campbell was taken from the playground at Fairhaven on the tenth anniversary of Sadie’s disappearance. That can’t be a coincidence. Same school, same playground, almost the same time of day. The physical characteristics of the girls are also similar. Dark hair, brown eyes.”

Agent Burke was watching her with unwavering regard. Amazing, Abby thought. She finally had his attention. “Two days after Emily goes missing, Sara Beth Brodie disappears from a small drugstore a few blocks from the school. Not from the playground. The pattern is broken.”

“Let me play devil’s advocate for a minute,” Burke said. “After Emily Campbell was grabbed, security undoubtedly tightened at the school. The UNSUB—”

“UNSUB?” Sheriff Mooney said.

“Unidentified subject,” Burke clarified.

Mooney gave a shrug. “We just call ’em suspects down here.”

“All right, the suspect then. The point is, he could have hung around somewhere down the street until school was dismissed and then followed Sara Beth. He didn’t snatch her from the playground because he couldn’t. He was forced to change his M.O. His modus operandi.”

“I know what M.O. means,” Mooney snapped, momentarily losing his cool.

Abby decided she’d better jump back into the fray. “Sara Beth doesn’t share the same physical characteristics as the other two victims. She’s very petite, with curly blond hair and blue eyes.”

“What about a custody grab?” Burke asked.

Abby nodded. “It’s possible. The parents are legally separated, apparently headed for divorce court. There’s been some haggling between the lawyers about visitation.”

“You’ve interviewed both the mother and the father?” A slight emphasis on father.

“Of course,” Abby said with a frown. “Both seemed genuinely devastated by the news, but as we all know, emotions can be faked.”

“Yes,” Burke said. “That’s all too true, I’m afraid.” Again his gaze met Abby’s. She suppressed a sudden desire to avert her eyes, as if he could somehow see inside her. All the way to her soul, maybe.

“Two children missing within two days of each other,” he mused. “Another one disappeared ten years ago. All five years old. All went to the same school. Those are more than just vague similarities.”

“I realize that,” Abby said. “I’m just saying we can’t afford to overlook the possibility that Sara Beth’s disappearance could be a copy-cat abduction, maybe a parental abduction, maybe…something else.”

Again that flicker in Sam Burke’s eyes, a cold darkness that sent another shiver through Abby.

“What time did Sara Beth go missing?”

“Somewhere around 3:30,” Sheriff Mooney said. “Her father’s secretary picked her up from school at 3:15 or so, and they drove straight to the drugstore, which is less than five minutes away. The secretary, Luanne Plimpton, says that she and Sara Beth couldn’t have been in the store more than five minutes when she noticed the child was gone. She and the pharmacist, Gerald Ferguson, searched all over the store. It didn’t take long. It’s a small, privately owned pharmacy. No surveillance cameras or anything like that. The call to dispatch came in at 3:41. An officer was on the scene and had the area secured within ten, fifteen minutes, but what with the initial search, the place was pretty well contaminated.”

Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s just after three now. I need someone to show me where this drugstore is located. I want to be there, watching, when 3:30 rolls around.”

Meaning that whatever routine events had occurred in the area at the time of Sara Beth’s disappearance would likely occur again today at 3:30. Courier deliveries. People getting off work. Kids walking home from school. Potential witnesses that wouldn’t yet have been interviewed.

“I’ve got a couple of deputies already in place,” the sheriff told him. “But another pair of eyes and ears is always welcome. The Brodie case is Abby’s. She can ride along with you and fill you in on whatever details you’re missing.”

Abby had figured that was coming, but she wished she’d been a little quicker on her feet. Wished she’d suddenly had some critical errand that couldn’t wait.

Sam Burke stood. “Let’s get moving then.”

“I’m right behind you,” she said.

But at the door, he paused for her to pass through ahead of him. Abby wasn’t certain whether he’d done it out of common courtesy or to call attention to her gender, so she didn’t know whether to be appreciative or irritated.

She settled on annoyed, an emotion she suspected Special Agent Sam Burke generated fairly often.

SAM PARKED his rental car at the curb near Ferguson’s Drugstore where he and Sergeant Cross would have an unobstructed view of intersecting streets. A sheriff’s department cruiser was parked several feet in front of them and another a block and a half away. To their right lay the cordoned-off parking lot where dozens of tire tracks would have been marked, measured and photographed.

Across the pavement, the closed pharmacy looked abandoned, with its darkened windows and crime-scene tape crossed over the glass entrance.