Vendetta (9 page)

“I'm sorry.” She hesitated, knowing it was going to take time for everything that had happened to sink in. “But right now we need to talk about your sister.”

“Did you find out something?”

Nikki jumped straight to the point. “Did you know Bridget was struggling with depression and cutting?”

“Yeah, I tried to get her to go to counseling, but she hated it. Said they didn't understand her, so I didn't make her keep going.”

“She was also communicating with your mother.”

“What?” Kyle shook his head. “She never told me that. And me . . . I was always so busy. This is all my fault.”

“Why?”

“If I'd been around more, paid more attention to what she was doing—”

“Don't go there, Kyle. All you can do is focus on what's happening right now.”

“I need to talk to my mother.”

“Not now, Kyle.”

But Kyle was already headed for the squad car. He made it to the vehicle just as they were about to put his mother inside. “You walk out of our lives and we don't see you for months on end, and then you think you can just show up and try to fix things?”

“Kyle—” Nikki started.

“I'm sorry.” Loretta turned around to face her son. “I know I wasn't a good mom, but after your father died . . . I didn't know how to take care of you, and Bridget, and myself.”

“You know how to drink. And party.”

“I wanted to help.” Loretta's voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

“With a gun?”

“I just wanted to protect her. When they took your father, I couldn't stop them. I thought . . . I thought they took Bridget away as well.”

“The police aren't the enemy here.” Kyle's voice rose. “Don't you see that?”

The flyer that Loretta had stuck in her pocket fell out and fluttered to the pavement. “I've missed so much. When did her hair get so long? Last time I saw her she had it cut short.”

Kyle picked up the flyer. “She decided to grow it out. About a year and a half ago. You'd have known if you'd been around.”

One of the officers motioned at Kyle. “Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step away now—”

“I was trying to protect her.” A tear slid down Loretta's face. “I know I'm not perfect, but I never stopped loving the two of you, no matter what has happened between us.”

“What's happened between us? Well, let's see. You're a drunk. You deserted your family. Shall I go on?”

“He took her, and you were too busy to notice what was going on.”

“Who, Loretta?” Nikki felt her heart pound in her ears as she took a step forward. There was something about the way she'd phrased her sentence. Was it possible the woman knew something? “Do you know who took Bridget?”

“Maybe. There was a man who'd been following her. She told me she was scared.”

“You knew she was being followed and didn't tell me?” Kyle said. “You—”

“Enough. Both of you.” Nikki motioned for them to stop. “At this moment, I don't care who failed who. I think we can agree on one thing. We all want to find Bridget.” She turned to the officer. “I need to know what she's talking about.”

The officer shook his head. “And I need to take her down to the station and have her booked. She just shot a ranger.”

“I realize that.” Nikki rushed on. “But I've got a girl missing and a woman who might know something. Please.”

“Meet me down at the station in thirty minutes, and I'll give you first dibs.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Nikki and Jack stepped inside the small interrogation room at the station back in town where Loretta Ellison sat rocking in her chair. Nikki slipped into a chair, wearing a pair of jeans, navy jacket, and white blouse she'd picked up on the way, replacing the bloodstained outfit she'd been wearing when Ford had been shot. The latest word from the hospital was that he was still in surgery but was expected to make it. She hoped so. Both for Ford and his family's sake and for Loretta.

“We'd like to talk with you for a few minutes about Bridget,” Nikki said.

“Did you find her yet?”

“I'm sorry, but no.”

“And the man I shot. They haven't told me if he's still alive.”

“The last update we received, he's in surgery. The doctors are expecting him to pull through.”

Loretta pressed her fingers against her temples. “I've disappointed my son again. I need to see him again. To try and explain.”

Nikki studied the woman's face, aged, she was sure, beyond her years. It wasn't hard to feel sorry for her, despite what she'd done. Nikki would never forget the moment everything in her own life had spiraled out of control. Or the fact that she could have easily become the person sitting across from her.

“I'll make sure you get a chance to speak with Kyle,” Jack said, still standing, “but we'd like to ask you a few more questions about your daughter.”

Loretta looked up at him, eyes bloodshot, hands shaking. Assuming the woman had been high when she came into the visitor center with a gun, she was crashing now. “I didn't mean to shoot him, but it was his fault. He . . . took my husband. And now Bridget . . .”

Nikki had gone over Daniel Ellison's file when she arrived at the police station. According to the autopsy, he had died of a heart attack while in police custody after being arrested for stealing a car found with narcotics.

Nikki leaned forward and rested her arms against the table. “I'm very sorry for the loss of your husband, but the police arrested him, Loretta.”

“I still can't trust them.” Loretta traced an imaginary line on the table with her finger. “Said he was in trouble for stealing some car, but all I know is that he never came home.”

“It's hard to lose someone you love.” Nikki swallowed the emotion threatening to surface. She needed answers, and in order to get them she needed to connect with the woman. Needed to earn her trust. “My sister was abducted when she was sixteen.”

Loretta looked up at her, frowning. “Did you ever find her?”

“No. That's why I want to help you. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love. And even harder not to know where they are. I want to find your daughter, Loretta. And I think you might be able to help me.”

“But I don't know where she is.” The woman started coughing.

“Would you like some water?” Jack asked.

Her fingertips gripped the edge of the table. “No . . . I'll be okay.”

“Back at the visitor center you said ‘he' took her,” Nikki said. “Like you knew who might have taken her? I need to know who you were talking about. Did someone threaten to take Bridget?”

Loretta was losing focus. Rocking in her chair again. “Maybe.”

“Loretta?” Nikki leaned forward. “I need your help to find Bridget. Remember? Just tell me what you know. You must have had a reason for saying that.”

“She . . . she sent me a message a week or so ago. She seemed scared of something.”

“Did she tell you what she was scared of?” Jack asked.

Loretta shook her head. “I think she didn't want me to worry, though I couldn't help it. I always worry about her.”

“Think, Loretta. Did she ever mention someone specific? Perhaps someone she believed was watching her or stalking her?”

“She thought someone—an older man—had been following her.”

“Did she know who he was?” Nikki prodded. Gwen was going through Loretta's phone records and text messages, but she had to make sure they didn't miss anything. “Who had been watching Bridget?”

“Don't know. She never gave me any details. Told me later it was nothing. Just a creepy feeling like you have when someone walks over your grave. When I heard she'd gone missing, I remembered she'd told me that.”

“I need you to tell me everything Bridget told you, Loretta. When did the man follow her? Where was she?”

Loretta clasped her hands together. “Once . . . once while she was jogging, maybe. A second time I think she was . . . leaving school.”

“And she was afraid?” Jack asked.

Loretta nodded. “She wouldn't tell me she was afraid, but I could tell. The first time she thought someone was following her, she sent me a message and told me she ran into a store until she was sure she'd lost them. I told her to tell Kyle. Later she told me to forget the whole thing. That she'd watched some horror movie with her friends and it had creeped her out. Set her imagination on overdrive.”

“And these conversations you had with Bridget. Did you call her or simply text each other?”

“We texted,” Loretta said. “She likes to communicate that way.”

Nikki quickly sent Gwen a message, telling her to look specifically through the conversations between Bridget and her mother.

“Tell me more about Bridget,” Nikki said.

A slight smile appeared on Loretta's face for the first time. “She was always happy. Hardly ever cried. And so beautiful. I thought about putting her in one of those pageants you see on TV, but she loved sports and playing outside. She was always a tomboy. Never wanted me to dress her up in frilly clothes.”

“When's the last time you saw her?” Nikki asked.

“Christmas, a year and a half ago. Kyle invited me over for dinner. I was surprised. We don't much get along. Not since Daniel died. He blames me for not being able to take care of Bridget.”

“And since then?”

“I . . . I've had some problems with drugs. Drinking. Messed me up after Daniel died. They told me I couldn't take care of Bridget anymore.”

Yet another reason Loretta didn't trust the authorities.

“How often do you talk with her?”

“Every few weeks. Emails and texts, mostly.”

“What else do you and Bridget talk about?”

“She tells me about school and her volleyball games. I promised her I'd come to one of them someday. About her friends. Boys she likes. Classes she likes. She's smart, but I don't think she tries hard enough.”

“Did she ever talk about a boy named Sean Logan?”

“Sean . . .” Loretta shrugged. “Don't remember the names. I tease her sometimes. She seems to like a different boy every week. She's such a sweet girl. A little sad and lonely. I don't understand young people today. They talk all day on their phones but still seem lonely. It wasn't like that when I was her age. I had my first job when I was fourteen, washing dishes for the pizza place in town. But Kyle was right. I don't know how to take care of myself, let alone a teenager.”

Nikki leaned forward. “And is there anything else you know that might help?”

“No . . .” Loretta's hands shook as she moved them to her lap. “I don't care what happens to me, but please . . . please find my girl.”

Back at the visitor center, Nikki grabbed a Coke from the vending machine. She took a sip, hoping the early afternoon sunshine would improve her mood. Loretta clearly believed Bridget had been afraid. Sometimes an abduction was simply a window of opportunity, but abductors often stalked their victims before they took them—like the Angel Abductor. The victim might not know their abductor personally, but it wasn't uncommon to discover there had been contact prior to the crime. And if Loretta was right, Bridget had this connection with her abductor as well.

A couple with three energetic kids in tow strolled past her as she headed back inside. The man held Bridget's flyer, turned
and said something to the woman, then crumpled up the paper and dropped it into the trash. Nikki drew in a breath of fresh air and let it help calm the adrenaline still pumping through her. Maybe they hadn't seen Bridget, but someone had to have seen something.

She headed back toward the command post vehicle. Manpower was essential if they were going to find Bridget. The local police department had assigned one of their officers to be the liaison between local police and the volunteers who had come forward. This would guarantee not only that their help was effective, but that any evidence encountered was safeguarded. Each volunteer was signed in, then assigned a specific task, including fielding calls. Most of them, though, were spending the day passing out flyers with Bridget's photo and talking to hikers who were emerging from or entering the trailheads.

Inside the vehicle, Nikki walked over to where Gwen was working, leaned over, and braced her arms against the table where Gwen was still going through Bridget's phone. “Please tell me you've come up with something we can use.”

Gwen slipped a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “From what you told me on the phone, Loretta was telling the truth. There were dozens of emails between her and Bridget, as well as some text messages.”

“And . . . ?”

“Two weeks ago, she wrote ‘Hey Mom, there's this old, creepy guy I've seen twice now, following me. Not sure what's up with that.' Three days later she says, ‘I shouldn't have worried you. I'm sure it's nothing. Never watching another horror movie!'”

“And her mom's response?” Nikki asked.

“‘I'm supposed to worry. I'm your mother.'” Gwen pushed her chair away from the table and leaned back. “She never
mentioned it again. I'm assuming because she didn't want her mother to worry.”

“Any description?”

“Nothing that helps.”

Kyle knocked on the door of the vehicle, holding a stack of flyers, then handed them to Nikki. “I had a bunch more flyers made up. I'm heading out now to make an appeal to the public.”

“Kyle, wait,” Nikki said, stepping outside. “I just returned from speaking to your mother. I know your relationship is strained, but she'd like to see you.”

He glanced at his watch. “Maybe later. I'm getting ready to meet a reporter for an interview they've promised to broadcast.”

She wanted to tell him how important it was, but that wasn't her place. Tragedy tended to either bring people together or rip them apart. She'd seen it firsthand with her own family. The only thing that had saved them was the support of family and friends, and prayers. She could only pray that he and Loretta someday found healing, because she had a feeling nothing she could say or do was going to change his mind right now.

Tyler stepped out of the truck, a printout in his hand. “I'm not finished, but I went ahead and printed out my initial observations. I don't think any of it's going to be new, though.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it. This will help.” She took the list he'd made and read through it quickly before turning to watch Kyle disappear across the parking lot. “Loretta never should have come. She's going to go to jail for what she did this morning, and all she wanted to do was find her daughter. I know what that feels like.”

“Yes, but you didn't bring a gun inside a public place, hold a bunch of hostages, and shoot an officer,” Tyler said. “Just like you, she's made choices along the way.”

“I just hope she can get some help.” Nikki folded her arms
across her chest. “Was your grandmother's name really Loretta, or were you just trying to connect with her?”

“Loretta Caroline Hall Grant.” Tyler smiled. “She was my father's mother. Married when she was fourteen, had twelve children over the next decade and a half. Eight of them lived.”

“Wow. She must have had a hard life with all that loss.”

“She did, but you wouldn't have known it from talking to her. She never grew past five feet, but she had more fire than anyone I know. She died when I was nine, but I remember her so clearly. She smelled like roses and made the best peach cobbler in the county.”