Abduction (27 page)

She spotted
Matt before he saw her. He was bending over a dispatcher’s desk, laughing at
something the woman was saying.
Keep laughing, Matt Casto.

He caught a
glimpse of her and straightened, his lips going tight with disapproval.
Tough.

“I need to
talk to you. Now.” Without waiting to see if he followed, she went into one of
the empty offices and turned on the lights. She heard the door close behind her
and whirled around.

“Care to tell
me what’s on your mind?” Matt leaned against the closed door, his arms folded
across his chest, belligerence oozing from every pore.

“I haven’t
heard from you for awhile. Thought I’d find out why before I said what I came
here to say.”

“Didn’t think
you’d notice.”

“Really? And
what would give you that idea?”

Matt shrugged
evasively. “I’m sure you’ve been busy.”

“Actually, I
haven’t, but that’s not the point. You’re not going to tell me what’s on your
mind, so I’ll tell you what’s on mine. I’ve had enough, Matt. I love you. I’ve
always loved you, but I can’t play second fiddle to your flirting anymore. I’ve
had enough. It’s over. I’m out of here.”

She started to
move past him. He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Off to your new boyfriend?”

“I don’t have
a new boyfriend. Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to be validated by every man
I meet. I’ve never gone out on you, Matt. Never.”

“I
saw
you. On Tuesday. You and some GQ in loafers.”

It took a minute before Paula could figure out
what Matt was talking about, but finally the fog cleared. She almost laughed.
“That was a coworker. It was the first and only time I’d ever had lunch with
him, and he asked me as we were leaving the building. Had you bothered to walk
over and join us, rather than sulking from wherever you were spying, you would
have known that and we could have had lunch together.”

She pushed him
aside and stormed out of the office, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her
lids. She wasn’t about to let him see her cry. That could come later. She’d go
home, curl up on her bed, and cry her eyes out, but not yet. Not here. Not now.

#

Janice Alberry looked stunned as she walked in and
found Zoe waiting for her. Zoe stood up, smoothing her skirt. “I probably
should have called first, but I thought you might like an exclusive interview.”

“Uh. . .yeah.
. .I’d love to talk to you.” She took a deep breath. “Come on back. We can talk
in one of the conference rooms.”

Zoe followed
Janice out of the reception area, weaving down one hall after another before
entering a small conference room. She hoped she didn’t have to storm out in a
huff, because she was positive she’d never find her way out of the building.

“Please, have a seat. I just need to get a notepad
and my tape recorder.” Janice stopped at the door. “I can tape-record this,
can’t I?”

“Sure,” Zoe
waved a hand airily.

While the reporter was gone, Zoe started to have
second
thoughts. Standing up to a
killer’s threats was one thing. Delib
erately taunting him was a much
more serious matter. She had no choice. He had to be stopped. The thought that
he had been so close to her mother was enough to send chills down her spine.

The door
opened. In a rush of breathy apologies for taking so long, Janice set up the
recorder and started the interview.

“I’m so glad you came in. I thought about calling
you. But I’m no star in the news business. I figured you wouldn’t want to talk
to me.”

“That’s
precisely why I chose you.”

“Oh. Well.
That’s great. My anonymity finally works to my advantage.” With a nervous
laugh, she picked up her pencil. “Okay, let me ask you a few questions.”

Zoe reached
out her hand and covered Janice’s. “Let me tell you what I want you to say.”

“But,”
Janice’s eyes went wide, “I’m not supposed to do that. I mean, I’m supposed to
direct this. . .”

Zoe’s smile
was polite but firm. “I’m going to give you the article. I guarantee it will be
picked up by papers all over the country.”

Janice didn’t look convinced, but she slowly
nodded. “Well, okay.”

“Good. The
killer has taken and murdered dozens of little girls over the past twenty
years. . .”

“Dozens?!”
Janice squealed with shock.

“Yes. Now
write. He’s a coward who picks on children because they can’t fight back. He’s afraid
of the police and afraid of adults. He preys on helpless things like children,
puppies, and kittens. He doesn’t have the nerve to face—”

“You’re
taunting him.” Janice stopped jotting notes, her face reflecting the horror of
the sudden realization. “You’re trying to make him come after you.”

“Honey, he’s already after me. I just want him to
come after me
now.”

#

JJ looked at
the list of suspects and frowned. At the top of the list was Keyes Shefford,
age fifty-seven, owner of Keyes Realty.
Whereabouts currently unknown.
Not so much as a parking ticket to pin on him. Keyes Shefford was a
squeaky-clean, upstanding citizen.

He drew a line
through Keyes’s name. This was no time to let personal feelings get in the way
of an investigation. He’d tried to hurt Zoe. He’d wanted to put some distance
between them. He’d accomplished that in spades. She’d never speak to him again,
of that he was sure.

Then they had Frank Harrow. Age forty-eight.
Married with two children. Landscaper with unlimited access to Keyes’s
properties. One arrest for being drunk and disorderly when he was nineteen, a
couple of parking tickets, and that was it. He had opportunity. He
could
fit the profile. And he lived only two blocks from an elementary school.

Zoe.
Pushing thoughts of her aside, he kept going down the list.

Robert
Maysonet. Keyes Shefford’s right-hand man. Age fifty-two, single, never
married, a loner. Has access to properties. Lives a mile from an elementary
school. Wayne’s interview notes indicated that Maysonet was arrogant and
disdainful of the police. A profiler would flag that.

Was one of
these men the killer, or were they chasing shadows? If he really had to narrow
in on someone, he’d go with Maysonet or Harrow.

In the
meantime, Alice Denton, aka Nancy Darrington, was on the run again. By the time
the police had closed in, she was gone. Ted Matthews’s body was still missing,
and Tripp said they were having trouble tying his disappearance to Karen
Matthews.

It made JJ
long for the days when he worked Homicide. He’d have pressed charges and locked
her up before she had time to lawyer-up. Too late now. And it wasn’t his case.
His worry was the child, not the husband. He had increasingly less hope that
the child would be found alive.

#

If Zoe was
surprised to find Rene sitting on the park bench in her front yard when she got
home, she didn’t show it. “Come on in.”

Rene waited
until Zoe offered her a seat before she said, “I had to try again.”

“I figured you
would.” Zoe sank down in a chair and stretched out her legs. “I’m sorry, Rene.
I wish I could explain it to you, but I can’t. Not yet. Let’s just say that I
need my gift one more time before I give it up.”

“If you don’t
give it up now when you know the truth, what makes you think you’ll be able to
give it up later?”

Zoe flipped
back her hair, more to buy time than because it was annoying her. She didn’t
want to be having this conversation. “I can’t explain what’s going on, Rene. I
wish I could.”

“You don’t
have to.” Rene leaned forward. “You’re convinced that you need to be a psychic
a little while longer, probably to do one last act of good, and then you’ll be
able to set it aside forever. It doesn’t work that way.”

The woman’s words hit too close for comfort, and
Zoe oddly felt like squirming. Instead, she stared at Rene and concentrated on
keeping her hands steady. “I won’t deny what you’re saying is truth, but you
don’t have all the facts. You don’t understand what’s at risk here.”

“I don’t have
to, Zoe. I understand the battle that’s going on for your soul, and that’s all
that’s important to me. Everything else is illusion, meant to deceive you and
draw you away from the truth.”

“And what
truth is that, Rene? That God finds me detestable?”

“Not you,
child. Not at all.”

Zoe sighed and
closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to go through with this.
Her plan was starting to look foolhardy and downright stupid and incredibly
dangerous. “I know, Rene. It’s the psychic bit, not me. He loves me. He died
for me. I understand all that. You explained it all very well. I just. . .”

“What are you
going to do, child? Take him on alone? Draw him out and defeat him? Do you
honestly think you can?”

Zoe’s eyes flew open and she sat up straight. “I
have to try, Rene. Do you understand? He went into my mother’s shop and taunted
her. He was letting me know that no one I care about is safe from him.”

Rene shook her
head. There was obvious compassion in her eyes. “I’m sorry. That’s despicable.”

“The killer is
targeting me. He wants me. I can get to him. I’m the only one who can.”

“No,” Rene
replied. “You’re the last one who should even try.” She stood and gathered her
purse and keys. “I can see that I can’t talk you out of anything right now.
I’ll let you think about some of what I’ve said. In the meantime, Karen’s
brother is in town. We had a nice long talk this morning. He and Karen are
coming over tonight for prayer and fellowship. I’d like you to come. I’d like
you to see what we’re talking about.”

“I’ll think
about it,” Zoe replied, slowly standing to her feet. “I can’t promise any more
than that.”

“It’s enough.”

As Zoe escorted Rene to the front door, another
thought occurred
to her. “Rene? Does
God—I don’t know how to explain this—but does
He like, chase you down?
Leave messages for you everywhere? Things like that?”

Rene laughed
and squeezed Zoe’s hand. “Oh, my, yes. And He won’t stop until you start paying
attention.”

#

Frank Harrow
was close to tears as his eyes shifted from Matt to Wayne and back again. “I
wouldn’t hurt a child. You can’t think I would. I just mow lawns and trim
shrubs.”

“And you had a
whole bag of candy in the front seat of your truck.”

“I have it
there for the children. I give them treats, you know, when I go to a house that
has children. I love children. I wouldn’t
hurt
them.” His eyes begged for someone to believe him. His hunched
shoulders
marked his fear. This was not a man who thought he was smarter than the police.

Matt tapped
his pencil on the table, his instincts screaming to apologize to the man for
hauling him in for questioning. A few more minutes of this and he might give in
to those instincts. “What can you tell us about Keyes Shefford?”

The landscaper
looked confused at the change in questioning and tilted his head. “Mr.
Shefford? He’s a nice man. Sad man. Has had some rough times in his life. Loves
his wife and daughter. Would do anything for them.”

“Anything?
Maybe kill for them?”

“Well, I
wouldn’t say that. Maybe to protect them or something. He’s not a violent man.
Can’t rightly say he’s even got much of a temper. He’s good to people. Once, a
single woman with three kids rented one of his properties. Now usually when
someone rents a house, I don’t take care of it unless they hire me on their
own. But this time he told me to keep on caring for the place ’cause he knew
she couldn’t afford to hire me on. That’s the kind of man he is.”

This was going
nowhere. Matt wanted to spit with frustration. “What about Robert Maysonet?”

Frank almost
curled his lip in distaste, and it was comical enough to make Matt smile.

“Mr. Maysonet,
huh? Don’t know that I have anything good to say about the man.”

“Why not?”

Frank leaned
back in his chair, warming to the discussion. “He’s one of them stuck-up types.
Thinks he’s too good for common folk, you know. Looks down his nose at just
about everybody, including Mr. Shefford sometimes. Saw him nearly smack a
little boy once for accidentally hitting him with a ball when he was showing a
house to some couple. Got real nasty with the kid ’cause it left a streak of
dirt on those fancy clothes he wears.”

“So he doesn’t
like kids?”

Frank shook
his head. “Calls ’em rug rats or animals.” He wrinkled his nose. “And what was
it he said once? Oh, yes, he said kids are ‘worthless vile creatures that prove
abortion is a good thing.’ ”

Matt felt his
blood run cold. “Oh,
did
he now?”

chapter
22

Monday, April 24

N
ancy
Darrington stared helplessly as the police came through the door with guns
drawn. She didn’t move a muscle, afraid they might shoot and hit the child in
her arms.

“Nice and easy
now, Mrs. Darrington. I’m going to ask you to hand over the child to my partner
and then slowly raise your hands and put them behind your head.”

“I didn’t do
anything wrong,” she whispered huskily, trying to speak through her dry throat
and fear.

“Well, time
will prove you right or wrong. In the meantime, there’s a detective who would
like to talk to you.”

One of the officers lifted the child from her
arms and backed away. She slowly lifted her hands and turned around.
Immediately she felt the small pinch of a handcuff as it circled her wrist and
slapped shut. Then her arm was yanked down and around to the small of her back.