The Girl With No Name

Chapter Forty-Two

Whereas Alcott County had one major city and enough mid-sized towns to keep law enforcement busy all year round, Lenore County was mostly rural. When Josie called the Sheriff’s Office for assistance, they jumped at the chance to help. It took only minutes to find out that the farm and the factory that Josie and Noah had identified on the satellite map were indeed in operation. The Sheriff’s Office promised to send officers to each location to have a look around, but Josie didn’t think they’d find anything.

The church, however, had been abandoned for nearly a decade. It had been a Catholic church, and the land was still owned by the archdiocese, which had left it unattended for several years. The area was so remote, sheriff’s deputy Phillips explained, that they had no need to worry about homeless people or junkies taking up residence in the old structure. “You’re more likely to find a bear or a deer in there than people,” he told them.

It was the perfect place to keep someone hostage, Josie thought. Her skin tingled with hope that Luke might still be alive.

An hour later, a team of Denton officers and Lenore sheriff’s deputies had been assembled on the shoulder of a two-lane road about a mile from the old church. For the first time in a long time, Josie strapped on a bulletproof vest, feeling a surge of adrenaline. She missed this. This was the police work she had lived for from the moment she was sworn in. She checked her weapon, trying to keep her focus on preparing to raid the church so she wouldn’t think about what they might find there. Or what they might not find. Her heart paused and then kicked back into motion, its beats suddenly too rapid. She willed her body to calm down.

“I’ve got eyes in the trees on all three sides,” Deputy Phillips said. He was in his fifties with short graying hair, a paunch, and serious brown eyes. He had taken up Josie’s cause with gusto, putting together an eager and competent team in less than an hour. Josie pegged him for ex-military.

“Have you seen any movement?” she asked.

“Nothing. It’s all quiet. There’s one vehicle parked around the back of the church.”

“How many entrances?” Noah asked.

“You got the three doors at the front, one at the back.” Phillips pulled out a piece of printer paper where he’d drawn a rough diagram. He pointed to the rectangular layout on the page. “These three doors in front take you into a vestibule. We think there’s a maintenance closet on one side and a bathroom on the other side. To get inside where the services were held, there’s more doors. We assume the sanctuary still has pews and such.” He had drawn two sets of lines to represent the pews and the aisles between. At the front of those he had drawn a square. “This is the altar,” he said. “In front of it is a big open area—the transept. There are two doors on either side that lead into the sacristy. The back door is on the east side of the sacristy. There are confessional booths about halfway from the vestibule to the transept.”

“Let’s go in quiet,” Josie said. “Clear the front first. Put teams here and here,” she said, pointing to the back of the church. “They’ll be on standby.”

Phillips nodded. “Flush them out, yeah.”

They assembled three-person teams for each entrance. Since it was out of their jurisdiction, Denton PD made up only one of the teams. They took the center door at the front of the church, Josie in front, Noah directly behind her and one of their most competent patrol officers in the back. They used hand signals and padded silently to the front of the church and up the steps. Josie held her gun in one hand, pointed downward, and with the other she pushed the creaky church door open.

The front of the church was searched and cleared. As they moved through the second set of doors into the main worship area, the teams on either side of Josie’s people moved more swiftly down the side aisles, clearing the confessional booths while Josie, Noah and the other Denton officer kept eyes on the altar and the entrance to the sacristy. As they moved down the center aisle, Josie caught sight of a pair of jean-clad legs on the floor near the altar. Judging by the size and style of the sneakers, the legs belonged to a man. Her heart skipped ahead in rapid beats. Noah hollered something at her, but she was already running down the aisle toward the outstretched legs. Not Luke, a voice in her head said. Please, don’t let it be Luke.

As she rounded the pews she saw that there were two crumpled figures. Adrenaline pumped so hard through her veins, her brain couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing at first. As her hands touched the first body, she was transported back to the cold cell on top of the mountain where Ray died.

“No, no, no.” It was her voice. She was saying it. “Not again.”

There was shouting behind her as the rest of them caught up to her, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears and her own muttered voice. “No, no, no.”

She rolled the man onto his back. Not Luke. Josie wheezed in a breath and held it. She was afraid to look at the second body, but knew she had to.

Not Luke.

She let out her breath. From behind her, a hand reached under her right arm and gently pulled her to her feet. “Boss,” Noah said. She was aware of the pounding of feet all around them, the shouted commands, and the hollered word “Clear” each time a room was found to be empty and safe. Noah guided her to a nearby pew and she sat down. “Boss,” he said again.

Josie’s gaze drifted back to the dead men. Both wearing jeans and plain black T-shirts, boots and shoulder holsters. One of them still had his gun in place, the other guy’s was a few feet away. Like someone had kicked it away from him after he was shot.

“He’s not here,” Josie said. “We were too late.”

Noah frowned. He looked down at her, his expression filled with pity. “I’m sorry, boss.”

One of the deputies stepped out from a room beside the altar. “Chief,” he yelled. “There’s no one else here, but we found something in the sacristy you should probably see.”

Josie moved on numb legs with Noah at her back. She followed the deputy into the small room where the priest usually prepared for mass. There were no vestments left from the church’s active days. Only an old vinyl chair and a couple of wooden benches lining one wall. That, and a baby’s wooden cradle—white with zoo animals dancing across its bumpers. Josie stepped closer, feeling a dread so cloying she thought she might suffocate. But the bassinet was empty except for an unused yellow blanket sealed inside its store packaging in one corner. She looked around the room again.

“There’s nothing else,” she said.

Noah and the deputy stared at her. She looked once more at the cradle. “This doesn’t even look like it was used.”

Noah said, “They must have moved them. Luke and the baby.”

“Why are Dunn’s men dead though?”

“Maybe Dunn didn’t think they were doing a very good job?” Noah offered.

Josie shook her head and went back out to the altar. Nothing made sense. Why were the men dead? Who had killed them? Where was Luke? Had he ever been here? She panned the transept, noticing for the first time a folding chair in one corner, a vinyl chair turned on its side, bottles of water scattered around—most empty but one still full—a hamburger on the floor, and a hammer. Beneath the first row of pews were several fast food wrappers, foam coffee cups, and cigarette butts.

Phillips walked slowly around the perimeter of the transept, his eyes panning the floor. “Someone was being held here,” he said, pointing. Josie stepped closer and noticed the severed zip ties on the floor, some crusted with blood.

She looked back toward the hammer, suppressing a shudder. She didn’t want to think about what they’d been doing with it. Nudging an empty McDonald’s French fry carton with her foot, Josie said, “Looks like they were here a few days.”

“Look at that,” Phillips said, pointing at the floor behind the overturned chair.

A white sneaker with a dark-blue Nike swoosh on it sat discarded on the floor. The top of it was splattered with brown-red spots that Josie recognized as blood. She sucked in a breath and turned away from Phillips so he wouldn’t see the tears leaking from her eyes. Brushing them away, she croaked, “It’s his. That’s Luke’s sneaker.”

“How do you know?” Phillips said.

“It’s a size eleven, isn’t it?”

She heard him groan as he got onto all fours to get a closer look. He wouldn’t move the shoe. The scene still had to be processed. Photos would have to be taken before anything was moved.

“Yeah, size eleven,” Phillips confirmed, heaving himself back up.

“That’s his sneaker,” Josie whispered.

“I’m sure we can get DNA from it,” Phillips said. “To confirm. Might take a while to get the results back.”

She rubbed her temples, feeling a new headache forming. “I know. Labs move slowly. The state police might be able to expedite it since it might belong to one of their own. In the meantime, we need IDs on these guys. I’m guessing they’re from Atlantic City or nearby.”

Phillips nodded. “We’ve got an evidence response team. I’ll get started. Let you know what we find.”