Kill for Me

Chapter Sixteen

Ridgefield House, Saturday, February 3, 7:30 p.m.

Ashley Csorka drew a breath. She’d been picking at the mortar for hours, until the nail she’d found had dulled. She’d had to pull another stair free to get another nail, and that had taken a long time. Finally, finally she’d freed her first brick, about two feet off the floor. Holding her breath she gave it a push. It’ll be loud, they’ll come.

You’ve been at this for hours and they haven’t come. Maybe they’re not home. Hurry, hurry. She pushed the brick harder and nearly sobbed when it worked free, creating one brick-sized hole. The air was fresh on her face. Out there was freedom.

She’d need to loosen at least four or five more bricks. Hurry. Hurry.

Charlotte, North Carolina, Saturday, February 3, 9:35 p.m.

Harry Grimes knocked on the door of Nicole Shafer, the third name on the list of friends Genie Cassidy’s mother had given him. The door was opened by a young girl. Harry held up his badge. “I’m Special Agent Harry Grimes. Are your parents home?”

“Mom,” she called, and her mother appeared, wiping her hand on a dishrag.

“Can we help you?” she asked, and he showed her his badge.

“I’m investigating the disappearance of Genie Cassidy.”

The mother frowned. “I heard she ran away.”

“No, ma’am. We believe she was abducted. I’d really appreciate the opportunity to ask your daughter a few questions.”

“Of course. Come in.” He was led to a family room where Mr. Shafer watched TV. “Turn off the TV, Oliver. This man is from the state police. Please sit, Agent Grimes.”

Harry did, keeping his gaze on Nicole, whose gaze was fixed on her feet. “Nicole, Genie was chatting online with a boy named Jason. Did you know this?”

Nicole looked at her parents nervously. “Yes. But she didn’t want her mom to know. Her mom was so totally overprotective. Genie had, like, no life. Really, Mom.”

“Did you know her sister Monica also disappeared after talking to a boy named Jason?” Harry asked, and Nicole nodded.

“Half the boys in our class are named Jason,” she said. “It’s a common name.”

“Do you know where Genie planned to meet him?”

Nicole drew a breath, held it. “Niki,” her father said harshly. “If you know, tell him.”

Nicole let the breath out. “Mel’s. It’s a diner.”

“I know it,” Harry said, then leaned forward. “Nicole, do you chat with Jason?”

She looked at her purple fingernails. “Sometimes. Sometimes if I was with Genie, she’d let me talk to him. Jason was cool. Told her she was pretty.”

“Did he ask you to meet him?” Harry asked.

She nodded. “But I was afraid. Genie said we should go together, but I got scared.”

“Oh God,” Mrs. Shafer breathed, horrified. “Niki. That could have been you.”

Nicole’s eyes filled with tears. “Is she really missing? Like kidnapped?”

Harry nodded. “We think so. Be careful, Niki. The world presented by guys online is rarely accurate. Sometimes it’s even dangerous.”

“You’ll find her, won’t you?” Niki asked, crying now.

“We’re sure gonna try. Tell me, does he IM you at a certain time or do you IM him?”

“He IMs me. He’s a college boy.” She hesitated. “He thinks I’m in college, too.”

“I’m going to need all your screen names and passwords,” Harry said, his pulse accelerating. If they played their cards right, they might trap the SOB. “And I need your promise that you’ll say nothing about this. I don’t want your friends tipping him off.”

“So I can tell people you came to question me and I told you nothing?”

Harry’s lips twitched at the hopeful note in her voice. “Sure. Be cool.”

Mr. Shafer quelled his daughter’s hope with a look. “I want your phone. You’re technologically grounded, young lady.”

Nicole started to protest, then closed her mouth, pulling her phone from her pocket and putting it in her father’s outstretched hand. “It could have been me,” she said quietly.

Mr. Shafer pulled her to him in a hard hug. “Thanks,” he said to Harry over his daughter’s head. “Anything you need, just ask.”

Atlanta, Sunday, February 4, 12:15 a.m.

It was the weeping that woke him. Luke blinked at the light he’d left on in his living room, feeling like he had a hangover even though he’d consumed no wine. He’d been wide awake after that disaster of a kiss, blaming himself every which way he could.

Finally he’d turned his churning mind to “Bobby.” Every major player in this case had come from Dutton so that’s where he searched, coming up with a list of Dutton residents named Bobby. Then, too exhausted to think anymore, he’d e-mailed the list to Chase and closed his eyes. He’d been asleep four hours and might have slept longer, but for the weeping. He wondered if he’d imagined it. Sometimes he dreamed the weeping.

But tonight it was real. He heard it again, muffled and quiet. Finding his bedroom door ajar, he peeked in and felt lower than shit. Swallowed whole by his old sweats, Susannah sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around Borenson’s ugly bulldog. Her shoulders shook as she cried and he scooped her into his arms and sat on the bed.

He thought she would fight him, but instead she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and held on. Just like she had when he’d held her in front of the ER.

He threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape and cradled her head in his palm. After a time, she quieted, her sobs becoming sniffles. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Just rest,” he said quietly.

“I’ve cried more today than I have in my whole life combined.”

“My sister Demi says she feels better after a good cry. You should feel on top of the world right now.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Why were you crying?”

“The hospital’s call about our test results.”

It took him a second. Then he tensed, his gut turning to ice. Jane Doe’s blood. Their HIV tests. “Positive?” he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as he could.

She pulled back, her eyes wide. “No. Negative. I thought you got a call, too.”

“If I did, it went to voicemail.” He let out a shaky breath. “Whoa. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were awake because they just called you.”

“I’m awake because I heard you crying. It’s negative. We’re okay. Why the tears?”

She puffed out her cheeks. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” he said dryly.

She looked away. “I think you’re a very nice man.”

Luke’s brows went up. “So you cry your eyes out? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m trying to explain. It’s just that you’re the first man who’s paid attention to me. The first decent man. You’re kind and interesting, smart, engaging, and…”

“Handsome?” he supplied hopefully. “Sinfully sexy?”

She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. “Yes.” Then her smile dimmed. “A woman would be a fool not to be flattered.” She shrugged. “Or interested.”

“Or attracted?”

She looked down. “Yes. So when I got the call from the hospital, my first thought was, ‘Yay, I’m not going to die.’ My second was, ‘Yay, now I can have Luke.’ ”

He cleared his throat. “Define ‘have.’ ”

She sighed. “You know what I meant. But I can’t have you.”

“Because of your evil past. Susannah, for a smart woman, that is the most singularly stupid logic I’ve ever heard.”

She gritted her teeth. “It’s not stupid.”

“It’s not smart,” he said, exasperated. “If a rape victim came to you with that story, you’d fishslap her and tell her to get therapy and have a life. You know I’m right.”

She drew a breath. “I would not fishslap her.”

“Fine. But you would tell her to have a life. This guilt you carry around is wrong.”

She was quiet. “It’s not just the guilt.”

“So what else is it?”

“I can’t do it,” she said between her teeth.

“Yes, you can. You can tell me. I’m engaging and kind.”

“I can’t do it. Sex,” she snapped, then closed her eyes. “God. This is humiliating.”

Luke mentally backed away, then tiptoed back. “There’s a… physical issue?”

“No.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “Let me go. Please.”

“No. Tell me. You want me, you’ve all but said it. Wouldn’t you like to fix whatever problem you have, so then you could have me?”

“Altruistic, aren’t you,” she said irritably.

“And kind. And handsome. And sinfully sexy.”

One side of her mouth lifted sadly. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Mama always says that.” He sobered, stroking the side of her mouth with his thumb. “Tell me, Susannah. I won’t laugh. I promise.”

“Let me up. I can’t talk to you like this. Please.”

He opened his arms and she slid back down to the floor. “I miss my dog,” she said, petting Darlin’. “She probably thinks I’m not coming home.”

“Tell me why you named a female sheltie Thor.”

“Thor’s the god of lightning,” she said. “The night I found her, we had a horrible storm with thunder and lightning. I’d driven out to the cemetery to Darcy’s grave. I go every year on January nineteenth.”

“In January, you had lightning?”

“It happens, but it’s rare. It was snowing like crazy, so I was only going about ten miles per hour. If I’d been going faster, I would have hit her. There was this enormous bolt of lightning and there she was, bedraggled and wet and cold, standing in the middle of the road, like ‘Hit me or save me but don’t ignore me.’ ”

“So you stopped.”

“It was a rental car. What did I care if it got a little dirty? I’d planned to take her to the vet and leave her there, but then she licked my face, and… I’m a sucker for that.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said wryly, and she laughed, but sadly.

“It’s not the same. Turns out she was microchipped. She’d escaped from a family up north months before and she’d survived all that time on her own.”

He was starting to see the parallel. “Tough little sheltie.”

“Yeah. They’d already bought their kids another dog, so they said I should keep her. So I did. It makes a difference, not walking into an empty silent house every night. There have been a lot of nights she sits up with me at three a.m. when I can’t sleep. She’s a good dog. I’m lucky to have her.”

“Sounds like she’s just as lucky to have you.”

“There you go, being kind again.”

“Susannah, tell me why you can’t have sex.”

She sighed, heavily. “All right. I can, but not the regular way.”

“What do you consider the regular way?”

“This is so embarrassing,” she muttered, and he had pity on her.

“Missionary, you mean?”

“Yeah. But I can’t do it. I can’t… look at a man. During.”

“You mean, during sex?”

“Yeah. It’s like I’m trapped. Not enough air. I panic.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair. “After everything you’ve been through? I’m not surprised. So during your… encounters before, how did you do it?”

She laughed self-consciously. “Not facing them.”

He drew a careful breath, determined she would not know how that turned him on. “That’s all? That’s your only problem?”

“No. Just one of them.”

“What are the others?”

She made a strangled sound. “It has to be… unconventional. Has to be. Or I can’t.”

He frowned. “Susannah, does anything you do hurt?”

“Sometimes. But only me. Nobody else gets hurt.”

He closed his eyes. “So you like it…”

“Rough. And I hate that,” she said fiercely.

Have mercy. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she went on in an explosion of angry words.

“I hate needing it that way. I hate that that’s the only way…” She stopped, trembling.

“The only way you can come.”

She dropped her chin to her chest. “It’s wrong. It’s not normal.”

“And by needing, and wanting it, then doing it that way, you got your friend killed.”

“I’m not that complicated, Luke.”

Oh, yes, you are. He scooted back, his legs apart. “Come here.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to look at me. Come here. I want to show you something, and if you don’t like it, I won’t ever mention it again. I promise.”

“You promised before,” she grumbled, but she stood.

“Now sit. No, don’t look at me,” he said when she would have turned around. He pulled her to sit between his legs. “Look over there.” He pointed to his dresser mirror. “Look at you. Don’t look at me.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’m dressed. You’re dressed. Nothing’s going to happen here except this.”

He pulled her hair back and kissed her neck, her quick intake of breath sending shivers prickling over his skin. “It’s just you and me and the mirror,” he said.

“This is silly,” she said, but she tilted her head to give him better access.

“Does it hurt? Do you feel panicked?”

“No. Not really. Just stupid.”

“Just relax. You think too much.” He kissed his way down the side of her neck, then ran his tongue along the curve of her shoulder. “Don’t I do that better than Thor?” She laughed breathlessly. “You have a very long neck,” he murmured in her ear. “This could take awhile.”

“But you… You can’t be…”

“Enjoying this? Susannah, I’ve got my arms around a beautiful woman who thinks I’m sinfully sexy and she’s letting me kiss her neck. What more could I want?”

“Sex,” she said flatly, and he laughed.

“I’m not that kind of guy. You have to buy me a drink before I hit you a home run.”

In the mirror he saw her close her eyes. “I can’t believe I told you this.”

“I’m engaging. Besides, you were ready to tell someone. I’m just glad it was me. I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me.”

“I know,” she said seriously, and he had to take a moment to control himself, to keep it slow and nonthreatening when he wanted to gobble her whole.

He’d started on the other side of her neck when his cell phone buzzed, making them both jump. He held her, flipping open his phone with one hand. “Papadopoulos.”

“It’s Chase. I need you back here.”

Luke straightened and let Susannah go. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Lots of stuff,” Chase said. “Get in here as fast as you can. And bring Susannah.”

Luke pocketed his phone. “We have to go,” he said to Susannah. “Chase wants you to come. You should probably change your clothes. I’ll walk the dog and then we can go.” He had his hand on the doorknob, then decided to take a chance. From deep in his closet he pulled a dusty box and set it on his dresser. “You’d be surprised what’s normal and what’s not, Susannah,” he said, then clicked his tongue. “Come on, Darlin’.”

Susannah sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the box for a full thirty seconds before giving in to her curiosity. It obviously had not been opened in some time. She struggled with the lid, then stared when it finally budged.

“Goodness,” she murmured, lifting out a set of fur-lined cuffs. There were all kinds of toys in the box. Some she’d used before. Some were tame, some lame, but all enticed her on a level that made her ashamed. But… She frowned, dropping the cuffs back into the box and replacing the lid.

Her heart was racing to beat all hell as she changed her clothes quickly. He hadn’t been repulsed. He shared her tastes. But that doesn’t make it right. Does it?

He knocked on the door, startling her. “Are you… decent?”

He’d chosen the word carefully, she knew. “You can come in.”

He did, glancing at her, then the box. Without a word he put it back in the closet. “Let’s go. It’s time to get back to work.”

Atlanta, Sunday, February 4, 1:45 a.m.

Susannah paced outside the door to the conference room. Luke had been in there for twenty minutes and with every minute her dread climbed. She’d only had to look at Chase’s face when they’d arrived to know something was very wrong.

The door opened and Luke came into the hall. There was no smile on his face. “We’re ready for you,” he said, then took her hand. “Let’s just get it over with.”

She hesitated before she walked into the room. All those people in there would know. So? After Gretchen’s press conference tomorrow the entire world will know.

But these people know about Darcy.

It didn’t matter anymore. There could be no more secrets, she thought as she entered the crowded room. Chase was there, and Talia and Chloe. And Ed Randall, who she’d met at Sheila Cunningham’s funeral. And to her surprise, Al Landers. He patted the empty chair beside him while Chase introduced the team members she hadn’t yet met-Pete, Nancy, Hank. Mary, the psychologist.

Uh-oh. They’d brought in the shrink. It had to be bad. “What’s happened?”

“A lot,” Chase said. “But a few of the things directly affect you, Susannah.”

“Chloe and I sent someone to question Michael Ellis,” Al said. “Darcy’s murderer.”

“You talked about doing that this morning. So what did Ellis say?”

“Nothing,” Chloe said, “which was odd. He’s serving twenty to life and was offered a deal that would take a few of those years off his sentence, but he wouldn’t say a word.”

“After six years, he’s still terrified,” Al said. “But, the man has a tattoo.”

“The swastika with the bent edges,” Susannah said.

Chloe nodded. “On his thigh. But that wasn’t the most interesting part.” She slid a photo across the table. “This is one of the photos from Darcy’s autopsy.”

Susannah’s stomach twisted in dread, knowing what she’d see before she looked at it. It was a close-up of a woman’s hip. “The brand,” she said. “She had one, too.”

“You mentioned the brand when you were giving your statement this morning, and I remembered it from the pretrial papers,” Al said. “I wanted to confirm before I told you.”

“Did this come out in the trial?” Chase asked.

“Ellis never went to trial,” Al said. “He took a plea. The police held the brand back in case other victims were found. They didn’t want any copycats using the brand.”

“So this was all an elaborate setup?” Susannah asked, incredulous. “Somebody killed Darcy just to get to me? Why? I’m not that important.”

“You are to somebody,” Chase said. “Important enough to stage this assault seven years to the day from the first one. Someone who knew you wouldn’t come forward.”

“This is unbelievable,” Susannah said, shaking her head. “Who would do this?”

“Hold that thought,” Chase said. “Ed?”

“We recovered a number of hair samples from the bunker,” Ed said. “We’ve been running DNA and found something we didn’t expect.” He slid two profiles in front of her.

She studied them both. “These two people are related,” she said. “Right?”

“Siblings,” Ed said. “One of those samples belongs to Daniel.”

Susannah was stunned. “Are you saying that Simon was there?”

“Philly PD faxed Simon’s profile,” Ed said. “This isn’t him. Actually, this is a she.”

“But I never went into the bunker,” Susannah insisted.

“The hair wasn’t yours,” Luke said quietly. “It was short and blond.”

She tugged her long, dark hair. “So we have a sibling that we don’t know about.”

“That’s the way it looks,” Ed said. “We wanted to know if you knew of one before we asked Daniel. This could be a shock to him.”

Susannah’s heart was racing. “I don’t know of one. It’s a shock to me.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Ed also ran mitochondrial DNA. No common maternity.”

“So my father had illegitimate offspring.” Susannah blew out a breath. “Why am I not surprised. I have a half-sister out there somewhere. Shit.”

“It could be a motive, Susannah,” Luke said. “For Darcy, for everything.”

Susannah closed her eyes. “So I have a half-sister who hates my guts enough to do all this? To taunt me with DRC license plates and shoot people who…” Her eyes flew open. “Oh my God. The woman in black at Sheila’s graveside.”

“One of Chase’s agents found her on the video,” Luke said.

“Just a glimpse,” Chase said. “Not enough to see her face through the black lace. She appears to be a woman, not a man.”

“Not Bobby or Rocky,” Susannah murmured.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked.

“Yes and no. I mean, I’m not sure if it helps to know I have had some sadist plotting my life like this. I mean, I thought Simon was bad.” She rubbed her forehead. “I have a half-sister,” she said, still stunned. “That my father had an affair isn’t all that shocking, but… I wonder if my mother knew.”

“Who would know if she did?” Al asked her.

“Angie Delacroix,” Susannah said instantly. “If my mother knew, she might have told Angie. They were friends. As much as my mother was friends with anyone.”

“The lady who owns the beauty shop,” Luke said. “Let’s go talk to her.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” Luke said. “This woman was in that bunker. She was involved somehow with Granville and Mansfield. If she’s not directly involved in the disappearance of the girls, she has to have known they were there.”

“Maybe she was being tortured, too. Maybe she was a victim, too.”

“It’s possible,” Luke said. “Except that the woman in black likely killed Kate Davis.”

Chase hesitated. “We think the man who assaulted you is involved, may even be Rocky or Bobby. We want you to sit with a police artist. We have one waiting.”

“Of course,” she murmured.

Luke walked her to the door. “You were wonderful,” he said quietly. “The police artist is right there.” He pointed to a woman who sat quietly in a chair. “When you’re done, go to my office. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, then we can see the hairstylist.”

“All right.”

Luke closed the conference room door. “That went better than I anticipated.”

“She’s been through hell,” Al said, visibly upset. “I hate to leave her, but I have a major trial starting Monday morning. I have to fly back to New York today.”

“We’ll be with her,” Luke said. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, Al,” Chase said. “You’ve been a huge help. Have a safe flight back.”

“You’ll take care of that other thing we discussed?” Luke asked, and Al nodded.

“You bet. I’ll call you with the details.”

“What details?” Chase asked when Al was gone.

“Something for Susannah,” Luke said. “It’s personal.”

“I guess she’s entitled to something personal,” Chase said ruefully.

Luke sighed. “Now to deal with the rest of it. We’ve got three dead witnesses who might have led us to Granville’s partner. Nancy?”

“It was not a pretty sight. I found Chili Pepper at his girlfriend’s house. They were both dead, throats slit. Crime lab is still there, looking for leads.”

“Thanks, Nancy,” Chase said. “Hank, what about Helen Granville?”

“The ME found the ligature marks around Helen’s neck didn’t match the rope. She was strangled with something thinner, then strung up and made to look like suicide.”

Luke rubbed his forehead. “So the man hired by Granville’s partner to torch his house is dead. Granville’s wife, who might have known the partner, is dead. And the nurse who might have seen Granville’s partner is dead. This just sucks.”

“Granville’s partner is tying up loose ends,” Chase said. “Granville’s wife is dead. Davis’s wife could be next. Pete, have you found the Davis woman and her kids?”

“No, but I did find this. I got the video from three of the gas stations where Mrs. Davis made those phone calls to Kate Davis’s cell phone. Garth’s wife doesn’t show up, but this guy does.” He tapped the photo of a burly man with a grizzled beard standing next to an eighteen-wheeler.

“He’s a trucker,” Luke said, and comprehension dawned. “He’s got Garth wife’s cell phone. Does he have Garth’s wife and kids, too?”

“I’ve got a BOLO out for this guy,” Pete said. “Nothing yet, but if he’s on the interstates, some trooper is going to see him sooner or later.”

“Let’s hope it’s sooner,” Chase said.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Mary McCrady said from the end of the table where she’d been silently listening. “If she believes her children are in danger… A mother will go to great lengths to protect her young.”

“It’s possible,” Chase said, “but we won’t know till we find her. What about the mistress, the one who works at the airport?”

“Kira Laneer. I haven’t talked to her yet,” Hank said.

“What about the nurse?” Luke asked. “Have we found anything among her effects?”

“Cell phone, keys, her tracking badge, all in her purse,” Chase said, pointing to a plastic bag on the table. “They’re in there.”

“Only her prints on the phone,” Ed said slowly. “Wait.” He pulled on a pair of gloves and took the nurse’s cell phone from her bag. “There is something. This phone number. She got a call at 8:20 yesterday morning. This incoming call is from the same number Granville called just before everything went to hell on Friday.”

“Granville’s partner,” Chloe said. “He called her. Was he threatening her?”

“ ‘It was Bobby,’ ” Luke quoted softly. “Bobby threatened her, then killed her.”

“So who is Rocky?” Pete asked.

“Could it be the same person?” Nancy asked. “Rocky sounds like a nickname.”

“Here’s the list of Dutton Bobbys,” Chase said, referring to the list Luke had made earlier that evening. “We’ve got Bobbys, Roberts, Bobs, Robs…”

“Pass it over,” Chloe said, then blinked in surprise. “Congressman Robert Michael Bowie? His son, Robert Michael Bowie, Jr. Rob Davis, Garth’s uncle.”

“The congressman’s son’s about the same age as Granville and Mansfield,” Ed said. “I met him when I processed his sister’s room after she was killed by Mack O’Brien. He was cooperative, but then we were investigating his sister’s murder and not his private affairs. The congressman himself is older. Maybe sixty. But he’s in good shape.”

“Good enough to slit the throats of two people half his age?” Nancy said.

“He could have paid someone,” Hank argued.

But Luke was thinking about the Dutton residents he’d reviewed to compile the Bobby list. He’d consciously discarded one name in particular earlier, but now…

“Could Bobby be a woman?” Luke asked, and everyone stilled. “The woman in black killed Kate Davis. She was physically in the bunker. She’s involved.”

“But… Bobby’s a man’s name,” Germanio said.

Luke looked at Pete, whose expression said he’d just come to the same conclusion.

“Mrs. Garth Davis,” Pete said slowly. “Her name is Barbara Jean. Bobby Jean.”

“Ed?” Luke asked. “How tall was the woman in the video?”

“Five-ten with her running shoes on,” Ed said.

“Same as Mrs. Davis,” Pete said.

For a long moment, nobody said anything. Then there was a frantic knocking at the door and a second later it opened, Susannah standing in the doorway, her open laptop in her hands, her eyes bright and energized. “I found her.”

“Who?” Luke said. “Bobby?”

Susannah blinked. “No.”

“Where’s the police artist?” Chase asked.

“Finished,” Susannah said impatiently. “She gave the sketch to Leigh so she could make copies. Dammit, listen to me. I found Jane Doe on the missing kids site.” She put her laptop on the table. “I was looking at girls whose names started with M. Then I thought ‘What if M was a nickname,’ so I started back at the beginning. Here she is, in the Bs.”

Luke squinted at the screen. “She doesn’t look like the girl in ICU.”

“Because she weighs thirty pounds less and her face is all bruised up. I told you your people wouldn’t recognize her based on what she looks like now. But I saw her eyes, Luke. She looked up at me in the woods and I saw her eyes. This is the girl. Her middle name is Monica. M. Look. Beatrice Monica Cassidy.”

“Excellent work, Susannah,” Chloe said.

“There’s more. I Googled her.” She toggled to another screen and Luke stared.

“Amber alert,” Luke said. “Her sister Eugenie Cassidy was abducted from Charlotte sometime between Friday at midnight and Saturday at eight a.m. The contact is Special Agent Harry Grimes. Was Charlotte a point on Mansfield’s map, Nancy?”

“Yes. Mansfield marked a route to Port Union, South Carolina, south of Charlotte.”

Susannah looked around the table. “Well? What are you waiting for? Call him. I’m going to the hospital.” She started to move, but Luke gently grabbed her arm.

“Wait.” From the pile of photos on the table, Luke found stills of the woman in black and Mrs. Davis. His jaw tightened as he saw what he hadn’t seen before. “Look.”

Susannah went still. “It’s her. Her mouth is the same shape. It was so red, I saw it through the lace. But… this is Barbara Jean Davis, Garth’s wife. Oh,” she breathed. “Bobby Jean. She was in Dutton yesterday morning. She never ran away.”

“Look closer,” Luke said. “Look at her eyes.”

The color in her face drained away. “Her eyes are Daniel’s. Our father’s eyes.”