Vendetta (15 page)

“And that's a problem, why?”

“It's not a problem, though it does up the chances that he's . . . I don't know . . . a serial killer or a bank robber or something.”

“A serial killer.” Tyler chuckled. “Yeah, that makes sense, because that describes most serial killers and bank robbers.”

“You're making fun of me.”

“Never.”

She shook her head but couldn't help but laugh. “I'm serious. Dating is just . . . complicated.”

“Why is it complicated? Why can't a guy just be nice? Why can't he have good manners, open the car door for you, pay for your dinner, and tell you how beautiful you are without worrying you're going to take it wrong?”

“Because every guy I've dated for the past couple of years has ended up having some annoying habit that I couldn't overlook. At first they seem perfect, or at least almost perfect. You know, during those first moments when they want to impress me. And then after a couple of dates—if it even lasts that long—they forget and start talking too much about themselves or their ex-girlfriends, or they agree with everything I say, which is annoying.”

“And so when you do find Mr. Perfect, it what? Scares you off. You're just waiting for Dr. Jekyll to turn into Mr. Hyde.”

Nikki took another bite, trying to figure out how to answer his question. “I'm sure you're probably right, but I think I'm waiting for the ball to drop. Waiting for that bad habit to appear. The one I decide I can't live with. Because, let's face it, I don't have a great track record when it comes to dating.”

“Maybe not, but maybe you're looking for something that isn't there.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Take our relationship for example. I'm not a serial killer, or a bank robber for that matter. We know how to be ourselves with each other. And I come in pretty handy when you're hanging on for dear life off the side of a cliff.”

“Maybe that's what I'm looking for,” she said.

Someone just like Tyler. Nikki shook off the thought before it had a chance to take root, and she grabbed a cashew with her fingers. “Anyway. You make me sound . . . I don't know. Indecisive.”

“I've never known you to be indecisive. Except perhaps with Mr. Per—Ryan.”

“Thank you. And I know I'm not making any sense. Katie would have understood.”

“I'm sure she would have, though she never accused me of being perfect.”

“Your and Katie's relationship did seem perfect. At least from the outside. You adored her, and she thought you hung the moon.”

“Then you've forgotten. Because you, more than anyone else, knew we struggled just like any married couple. I'm messy, and she could be stubborn when she wanted to. Switch?” He held out his carton.

Nikki nodded and handed him her chicken cashew.

“We had plenty of fights, you know that,” he said. “I can think of a couple of times when she went to see you after some argument we got into.”

“But you never let any of that ruin your relationship.”

“Because after a rough beginning, we decided we had to take our marriage seriously. Divorce was never an option.”

“But that's just it.” Nikki turned to Tyler, catching his gaze. “I don't need perfect. I just want someone who looks at me and sees my imperfections and decides to take a chance with me anyway. Someone who will tell me how he feels, love me despite my flaws, and maybe take out the trash while he's at it.”

The realness of two people being together, sharing who they were, the good and the bad.

“Somehow I have a feeling that one of these days Mr. Perfect—or someone close to it—will sweep you off your feet, and at that moment you'll know he's the one.”

“Maybe.”

Tyler finished up his last bite of food, then dropped his chopsticks into the box. “Your smile's gone.”

“I'm just frustrated. And I'm not talking about Mr. Perfect. I need to get back to work, but all we keep hitting are dead ends in this case. I don't know what else to do.”

“You once told me if you don't have a good lead, utilize logic until you're on the right track again. Can I throw out my two cents?”

“Of course.”

“Try looking at things from a different angle. Because it's like someone is leading this investigation, but it's not you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think Hansel and Gretel and a trail of bread crumbs. It's like everything so far has been too . . . too convenient.”

She shook her head, not following him. “It's called following the evidence.”

“Yes, but things just don't seem to be adding up. You don't take a girl after implementing some detailed plan, then leave a trail of crumbs behind you for the police to follow. It doesn't make sense. And you don't bring someone you've just abducted into the Smoky Mountains Park unless you have a surefire plan of escape. What if you're following the wrong trail?”

Nikki grasped the edge of the bench. “What do you mean? You think he's purposely trying to throw us off?”

“Think about it. You have her hat in an abandoned car, the phone, and a photograph. But she could be halfway to Alaska by now for all we know.”

If he hadn't already killed her.

“You mentioned earlier whoever brought her here needed to be someone who knows the park,” he said.

“That's logical.”

“So let's keep looking at it logically. In the park, there are paid rangers, volunteers, tourists, and thru-hikers.”

Nikki laughed. “That narrows down our search.”

“I think we can assume that whoever took her, assuming he
did bring her here, knows the park. Because I don't see him making a plan without having an exit strategy.”

“You heard what Anderson said, though. He wouldn't necessarily need an exit strategy.”

“True,” Tyler said. “The park covers over five hundred thousand acres. Bridget wouldn't be the first person who vanished without a trace inside the park. And if you think about it, his chances of not getting caught are high.”

Nikki shuddered and zipped up her jacket. “So in other words, instead of being some sort of stupid mistake, the park becomes the perfect place to disappear.”

“Exactly.” Tyler took her empty takeout box and tossed it in the trash can. “I think this is some sort of game.”

“Okay.” Nikki looked up at him. “Then I know who might be able to help us.”

Nikki leaned back against the passenger seat of the car the local PD had loaned them and closed her eyes as Tyler turned left onto a two-lane road just outside of Gatlinburg. She'd managed to finish her dinner under Tyler's watchful eyes, but only because she knew she needed the energy to combat the heavy fatigue—both physical and emotional—she was fighting. Sleep would come later, but for now she had to keep going. And try not to let memories of Sarah's abduction completely overwhelm her . . .

That morning she'd dropped Sarah off at school early. Sarah had worn her favorite
I Love New York
sweatshirt with jeans and a pair of red sneakers, her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail. She had been her usual bubbly self as they'd talked about Brice Mitchell on the way.

“Camy told me that Brice is planning to come to my birthday party.”

“Didn't I tell you he liked you?”

“Yes, but that was only because you're my sister.”

“Say what you want,” Nikki said, stopping beside the curb in front of the school, “but I was right.”

“I'll see you after school, Nikki.” Sarah paused before shutting the door. “Oh, but before I forget, I need you to convince Dad to buy me that new dress we found last week. He doesn't think I need another one.”

Nikki laughed, then promised Sarah she'd do her best. And that she'd be back at three.

At three fifteen that afternoon, Nikki's entire world had begun to crumble.

She fought back the tears. Missing Sarah as much today as the moment she'd realized she was gone.

Even Ryan's call had managed to push her in a direction she didn't want to go. As if adding one more card to the house of cards would bring everything crashing down. She tried to brush aside the new layer of guilt that had begun to form. Ryan hadn't deserved her curt response, but neither could he begin to understand what she was going through. He seemed to thrive on numbers, end-of-the-month financial reports, and business meetings. In contrast, her work forced her to delve into the world's darkness. And sometimes, on days like today, that darkness spilled over into her world, threatening to pull her under.

Which was why she couldn't allow herself to give in to the fear that would only paralyze her. Not now. Not knowing that Bridget was out there somewhere.

“You're awfully quiet,” Tyler said, dragging her from her thoughts.

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. “I'm just . . . thinking.”

“About?” Tyler prodded.

“About Sarah and Bridget, mainly. And hoping Sam can help.”

“Tell me more about Sam before we get there.”

Nikki shifted in her seat, her fingers clutching the armrest.
“Sam retired from the force about a year after Sarah disappeared, but during his last year, he was the lead investigator working on her case.”

“And your connection with him?”

“He realized how determined I was to stay as involved as I could in the investigation. He never tried to put me off. Always managed to find time to answer all my questions. We've kept in contact all these years. He became both a friend and a mentor.”

“Sounds like a good man.”

“He is a good man. After his retirement, he formed a private investigation agency with a couple of his buddies. They've actually solved a number of cold homicide and missing persons cases. And he's never stopped looking for Sarah.”

Tyler glanced at the GPS, then pulled into the driveway of a modest, two-story residence just outside the city limits. “Are you sure you're up to this? You look tired.”

“I am, but this is important.”

“We could meet him in the morning after you've gotten some sleep.”

“I'm fine, Tyler.”

Tyler turned off the engine, apparently realizing there was no use arguing with her. She could see the same fatigue reflected in his eyes as well. Peeling back the layers of an abduction was never easy.

Sam met them at the door with a huge grin on his face, not looking a day older than he'd been on the force all those years ago when she first met him.

“Nikki. It's about time you came to see me. If I remember correctly, you owe me a visit.”

“It has been a long time . . . too long.” Nikki gave the man a big hug, then turned to Tyler. “Tyler, I'd like you to meet Sam Bradford. Sam, Tyler's a longtime friend of mine who's been volunteering with the case we're working on.”

Sam shook Tyler's hand, then motioned them both into the entryway. “This girl was destined to become a detective. Even a decade ago, she knew more about the details in every missing persons case across the state than I did. She was smart, determined—”

“But none of that was enough.” Nikki tried to shake the growing frustration seeping through her.

“You're right,” Sam said. “Those cases were the toughest part of the job for me.”

“Sam?” Irene, Sam's wife, bustled into the entryway. “Are you planning to invite them in, or catch up in the middle of the entryway?”

“Sorry. Please come in.”

Even this late, Irene looked like she'd just stepped out of the hair salon with her perfectly styled short hair and a smart navy-blue pantsuit.

“It's great to see you, Nikki, though I would have enjoyed seeing you under different circumstances. You don't make it out this direction near enough.” Irene gave Nikki a hug, then linked arms with her. “Come in. Both of you. Give me your jackets, then I'll get some coffee going. Weatherman said at eleven that the cold front's about to hit, and I think he's right. The temperature's dropping like an anchor.”

“And I know how late it is—”

“Don't give it another thought.” Irene smiled. “Sam's work has always come first in our marriage, and after forty years, I finally stopped resenting that fact. You're both welcome, so make yourselves at home. I'll go get that pot of coffee going.”

Nikki stepped into the cozy living room that clearly had Irene's decorative touch. Sam nodded toward the long tan couch with orange accent pillows, then sat down across from them on a matching recliner.

Nikki glanced up at the mountain scene hanging above the
couch. “Is that one of Irene's paintings? I remember how much she loved to paint.”

Sam nodded. “She's good, isn't she? That one's of the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

“She is good. And what about you? Still working on cold cases?” Nikki asked.

“Yep. It keeps me out of trouble—or so Irene says.” Sam rested his arms against his thighs. “Let me tell you, though, if you ever decide to retire from the force, I'd hire you in a heartbeat.”

Nikki laughed. “Who knows? I might just take you up on that offer one day.”

Sam leaned back. “I've always regretted not being able to find your sister. Finding her body would at least bring closure to your family, but I couldn't even do that.”

“Neither of us could,” she said.

Nikki picked at a chipped fingernail. She'd known that seeing Sam would resurrect old memories forever linked to Sarah. He'd been the one who'd sat in the living room with her family on that first day, asking question after question. Then, when the weeks had turned into months, he'd still call every once in a while to update them on the investigation. He'd sat with Nikki for hours, teaching her procedure, sharing with her any new leads they were following, and listening to her ideas.

“But we still haven't given up hope,” she said finally. “At least, I haven't.”

“You never can. I've learned that. And your family? How are they?”

“My mom still has nightmares occasionally, but she volunteers with a missing persons organization, and that really seems to have given her a sense of purpose. It's a bit . . . therapeutic, I guess. She still struggles, though, especially at Christmas and Thanksgiving, but all in all they've managed to move forward as much as they can. My father pours himself into his restau
rant and still enters his sauces every year in the local barbeque festivals and competitions.”

“What about your brothers?”

“Luke's twenty-eight now and still wants to be a professional musician. He works at my dad's restaurant and entertains the customers a few nights a week. Matt's married to Jamie and they're expecting a baby. She's in the hospital right now, actually, after some complications with her pregnancy.”

“I'm sorry. I know this is hard on you.”

“My father warned me when I took this job that it was going to be difficult to separate my emotional self from my professional self. He was right.”

“You wouldn't be human if you could separate the two, Nikki. I can't tell you how many times I've sat in someone's living room during some of the worst moments in their lives. And while I've lost track of many of them over the years, I'll never forget their faces or their names.”

“I guess I thought if I could help, it might bring some sort of meaning out of what happened to Sarah.”

“And this case. You really think I can help?”

“That's what I'm hoping,” Nikki said.

“I have to say, your call intrigued me,” Sam said. “I've seen the reports on the news about the missing girl, but you said you believe it's connected with your sister's abduction?”

Nikki glanced at Tyler, then nodded. “How much have you seen on Bridget Ellison's abduction?”

“Just what's been on the local news. I'm guessing by your being here that you haven't found her yet?”

“No. And all we've got so far is a bunch of dead ends.”

“I'm still not sure how I can help.”

Nikki decided to jump straight to the point. “We found a Polaroid photo of Bridget—just like the other girls connected to Sarah's case.”

“Whoa . . .” Sam stared at her. “Are you telling me that whoever took this girl is using the same MO as our Angel Abductor?”

“The Angel Abductor?” Irene walked into the living room and set the tray on the coffee table. “I thought the man behind those abductions died years ago.”

“That was one conclusion,” Sam said, “but no one knows for sure. For all we know he could still be out there.”

“I've been reading through the files,” Tyler said. “There were specific things that the police kept from the public. The Polaroid, for example, was never released.”

“That's true, but after all these years, it's always possible for something like that to have leaked out.”

Nikki leaned forward and took the mug of coffee Irene offered her. “Thanks, Irene. We need to determine if this is just a copycat or if our abductor really is back. And we need to find him.”

“Wow . . . It's been so long, but I think all of us who worked that case believed he was dead. The authorities have always given us a tremendous amount of cooperation over the years digging up cold cases, but I've never stumbled across anything that pointed to him. Of course, we never had more than a rough sketch of what the man looked like.

“And you know as well as I do that his trail went completely cold after your sister went missing. I'm honestly not sure how I can help. It's been so many years, I have no doubt that you know more about those cases than even I do.”

“Maybe, but that doesn't mean there isn't something we've both missed. Do you have all of your notes on my sister's case?”

“He has case files on every investigation he worked in one of the extra rooms.” Irene laughed. “I don't even go in there. It's his private domain.”

“I need your help to determine who this guy is.”

“And if he really is the Angel Abductor?” Sam asked.

“Then it's up to us to ensure he never strikes again.”

Two hours later, they were set up at the dining room table, still going through the dozens of files, police reports, lists of evidence, and notes Sam had. Thanks to adrenaline and unlimited refills of coffee, exhaustion had been shoved to the back burner for the moment.