Vanished (14 page)

Madison mimicked him quirking his eyebrow. “I do believe that is a sexist comment, Mr. Logan.”

He chuckled. “You're probably right.”

She liked hearing his laugh even if it was brief. “Besides, I'm married to my job. You know the kind of hours we keep.”

“So no one is waiting for you in Chicago?”

“Not that I know of. I was engaged once and that is the closest I want to come to getting married.” As she stated what she had believed for three years, the usual conviction wasn't there. She couldn't get out of her mind the few minutes of camaraderie at the table in J.T.'s kitchen this morning. She'd felt a part of his family and liked that a lot.

He turned onto a side street from the main highway. “What happened? Why didn't you get married?”

“My fiancé decided my job wasn't something he could handle. Of course, he didn't let me know that. He just decided not to show up at the church the day of the wedding. He had his best man deliver my Dear Jane letter to the bride's room where I was getting dressed in my gown.”

“I'm sorry. It sounds like he was a coward.”

“Among other things. I know I was lucky to find out before the wedding what kind of man he really was, but it hurt badly nevertheless. I didn't see it coming. It makes me doubt my ability to read people, which isn't good for my job.”

“So he's the reason you don't want to get married? He's only one guy.”

“But he's right. My job is demanding and dangerous. You know that better than most. If I hadn't been so busy, I would have seen it coming.”

He pulled up in front of the diner where Max had worked. “I know what a job can do to a relationship. My wife told me when we got married that she could handle the danger part of my job as long as I didn't shut her out. It didn't work.”

“When did you start shutting your wife out?”

“When she became pregnant with Ashley, I think. I figured out that my talking shop upset her more than she ever let on. She'd become quite good at covering up her fear.”

“Were you drinking?”

“I drank occasionally. I started drinking seriously shortly before Ashley was born.”

Madison put her hand on the handle. “So telling your wife had been good therapy and the bottle became your outlet after that.”

“You can't keep things inside of you for long. Something has to give.” J.T. exited the Jeep and caught her gaze over its top. “In my case my life.”

She peered at the diner with its large picture window with the name of the place plastered in bold red letters across the top of the glass—Big Mama's Diner. “How do you want to do this?”

“Let's play it by ear. I don't imagine Max's girlfriend has anything to hide. She did call the police about the fact that Max was missing.”

“Good cop, good cop. I like that.”

Madison entered the oblong eatery with the traditional counter, red leather stools and red leather booths. The decor was almost nonexistent—off-white walls with a few old posters of Central City. She headed toward an empty booth at the end by the restrooms and pay phone and slid in. J.T. sat across from her.

A waitress with Nancy embroidered across the top right corner of her white shirt stopped at the booth. She removed the pencil stuck in her curly hair. “What can I get you two?”

“Is Paula working today?” Madison took her FBI badge out of her purse and showed it to the woman.

Nancy's eyes grew round. “This is about Max, isn't it?”

“Yes, do you know anything about why he would be on Crystal Lake driving a speedboat?” J.T. handed back the menus to the waitress.

“No, and for the record I didn't like the man. I warned Paula about him. Shifty eyes if you ask me. He came here this time last year, bragging about how great a cook he was, how he had worked years at a cafe in Southern Illinois and people used to come for miles around to eat his food.” Her mouth pinched and brows lowered into a frown, Nancy scanned the half-filled diner. “He ain't done anything like that here. This is about as crowded as it gets. I'll get Paula. She's in back.” The waitress started to turn away but stopped. “Sure you don't want anything?”

“I'll take a cup of coffee.” Madison looked toward the back behind the counter but only saw an older woman whom she doubted was Max's girlfriend.

“Me, too.”

While Nancy went to get the coffee and Paula, Madison shook her head, chuckling. “Where do people get that shifty eyes means a person is a criminal?”

“Beats me. But in Max's case what was he doing in Crystal Springs? Was he in on the kidnapping and had a falling-out with his partner?”

“Yeah, those shifty eyes are a dead giveaway.”

“At least they weren't beady ones.”

Madison laughed. “Quit it. I won't be able to keep a straight face when we interview Paula.”

“Shh. I think she's coming over here.”

Madison glanced over her shoulder and saw a young woman in her late twenties with stringy brown hair that hung limply to her shoulders making her way toward them with two cups of coffee.

“Nancy said you wanted to see me. You're with the police. I've already talked with two yesterday afternoon. Don't you all share your information?” Wariness lined Max's girlfriend's face, her tone surly. She plopped the mugs down in front of them, some of Madison's coffee sloshing out.

“I'm with the FBI and we're working a kidnapping case in Crystal Springs. We needed to ask you some—”

“I don't know nothing about no kidnapping.” Paula took a step back.

“I wanted to ask you about Max Dillard,” Madison said quickly before the woman fled. “You reported him missing.”

Surprise replaced the wary look in Paula's eyes. “Max wouldn't do no kidnapping.”

“We aren't saying that he did. We just need to know about the job Max took to earn some extra money.” J.T. lifted the mug to his mouth, his gaze intent on Paula.

“I don't know nothing.”

“You don't know who hired him, what he was supposed to do?” Madison took her napkin and wiped up the coffee around her cup. “Someone killed him. We think the person who hired him did it. We can't find his killer without your help.”

Max's girlfriend stared off into space for a long moment before returning her attention to them. “He didn't say, but I got the feeling he knew the person. We was to
go out to that fancy Italian restaurant on Second Avenue. You don't get out of that place for less than a hundred dollars.”

J.T. leaned forward. “Do you know how he knew the person? Male? Female?”

Paula flipped her hair behind her shoulders. “Nope. I got the impression he wasn't to talk about the job. He usually told me everything.” Tears glinted in her eyes. “We'd been dating two months.”

Madison withdrew a card. “If you remember anything that might help us, please give me a call.”

The waitress glanced at their coffees. “Do you want a refill or anything else?”

“No, thanks.” J.T. took another sip.

When Paula strode away, Madison cradled her mug and lifted it toward her mouth. “Do you believe her?”

“Yes. We still don't know if Max was an accomplice or not.”

“I'm not sure it makes much difference at this point. We should go on the assumption that the person who hired Max crossed his path sometime in the past.”

“Which means we need to check this guy out thoroughly. I've got Rachel working on him. I'll make sure she does an in-depth background check. We need to know his favorite color and who his third grade teacher was.”

Madison started to say something when J.T.'s cell phone rang. He took the call, hope entering his expression as he listened. “We'll be there in fifteen.” When he hung up, he said, “That was Central City Police. They picked up a teen who was caught stealing a car last night. His prints match the ones in the metallic blue car
found in the field. They are holding him at the main station downtown.”

“Let's go.” Madison slipped from the booth.

After tossing a few dollars on the table to cover the coffees, J.T. walked beside her out of the café. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into a space in the parking lot at the side of the police station. Inside one of the detectives showed J.T. and Madison to the interrogation room where they were holding the teen.

 

The watcher paced the length of the room, glancing toward the door that led to the basement where she was. “I've got to get rid of her. I've got to kill her. Finish what I started.”

Day four, 12:30 p.m.: Ashley missing ninety hours

Madison walked into the sheriff's station next to J.T. Matthew stood before the time line up on the dry erase board, discussing something with Paul. Rachel sat at her computer, typing. Behind the front counter Derek nodded to her. A phone rang and Susan picked it up. The scent of coffee permeated the large room, a hushed level of noise.

Kirk came from the back area. “Was the trip productive?”

J.T. grinned. “Yes. There's a chance Max knew the person who hired him, and we talked with the guy who was in the metallic blue car.”

“And?”

Madison noticed Matthew flip open his cell phone. “The kid is only eighteen, and when he heard about the
kidnapping and his possible part in it, he was very cooperative. He saw a white car on the gravel road about the time the kidnapper would have been parked there. He said about six.”

“What make, year?” Kirk asked.

“He didn't know. He glimpsed the car and hightailed it out of there. But at least we know we are looking for a white car.” J.T. looked toward the head FBI agent and frowned.

“Do you know how many white cars there are?” Kirk turned around to see what J.T. was staring at.

Madison peered, too, transfixed by the excitement in Matthew's expression as he spoke to Paul.

J.T. moved toward the FBI agent. “I know it's a long shot. But it's better than nothing which is what we had when we went to Central City this morning.”

“Did he know if it was a white car with an Illinois license plate?” Kirk asked from across the room.

Everyone stared at the deputy then J.T., who was approaching Matthew. Madison hurried toward the lead agent.

J.T. glanced back over his shoulder. “No, he didn't know.” Then he faced Matthew. “What's happening?”

The agent smiled. “Eric Carlton was picked up crossing the state line.”

Day four, 4:30 p.m.: Ashley missing ninety-four hours

M
adison glanced up from studying her notes. With his arms folded over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face, J.T. stood back from the table where Eric sat in the lone interview room at the station.

“You want us to believe you won a trip to Atlantic City out of the blue and you can't remember entering any contests?” Madison shook her head slowly.

Eric looked right into her eyes. “Yes, because it's true. A five-day trip and it was awesome.” He swiveled in his chair and stared at J.T. “I couldn't have kidnapped your daughter. I wasn't here. You can check.”

J.T. unfolded his arms and moved toward the table, still not one bit of emotion showing. “We are. If your story checks out and there are witnesses to prove you were there, then you will be free to go. What I want to know right now is how you were informed about this trip?”

“I received it in the mail. At first I didn't believe it, but then I called the hotel and they confirmed it. The
catch was I had to be there the next day if I wanted the free hotel and meals.”

“And you didn't think something was odd about that?” Madison rose, needing to stretch her legs after sitting for the past hour drilling Eric on his story.

“Lady, I've learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I like to gamble. This was my dream vacation.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone you were going to be gone?” J.T. lounged back in his chair as though he had not a care in the world.

“Who would I tell? No one will have anything to do with me since I got out of prison last year. I have an Internet business that barely makes me a living because I couldn't find a job here in town.”

J.T. leaned forward. “Then why have you stayed?”

“It's my home. A Carlton has lived in that cabin for several generations.”

“Let's go over this one more time.” J.T. planted his arms on the table, his hands fisted. “What was the postmark—”

A rap on the door interrupted his question. Madison crossed the small room and slipped out into the hall.

“He's telling the truth.” Paul gave her his notes on the calls he made to Atlantic City.

“Who paid for the trip?”

“Someone used cash.”

“Did anyone at the hotel remember the person?”

Paul frowned. “Not so far. A couple of our agents in New Jersey are still checking.”

“Okay, thanks. I'll tell J.T.” Madison reentered the interview room, wishing she had better news.

“So you don't remember anything about the letter or the envelope?” J.T. glanced up at her, his gaze lingering for a few extra seconds.

“Nope. I threw it away in Atlantic City after I arrived.”

“Where?” Madison sat again at the table across from J.T.

“Some trash can in the lobby.”

Dead end. She knew it would be because too much time had passed, but she had to ask. “You're free to go. We may have more questions for you later so please don't leave town.”

Eric shoved his chair back and leaped to his feet. He hurried out of the room.

Silence reigned for a good minute as J.T. stared at Madison.

Finally J.T. said, “His story checked out. I figured it would. If he had taken Ashley, he wouldn't have come back.”

“But we had to talk to him. We still have the Atlantic City lead. Maybe someone at the hotel will remember the person who purchased Eric's stay.”

“Cash?”

Madison nodded.

J.T. dropped his head forward, raking his hands down his face. “Why can't this be easy for once?”

 

Ashley sniffed the air, sensing something different in it. She cocked her head and leaned close to the doggy door, trying to figure out what it was she smelled. Then she remembered what happened the last time she hadn't eaten real fast. She'd fallen in the dark and
hurt herself because the bad man didn't give her much time to eat.

Quickly she stuffed the rest of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich into her mouth, then gulped down the funny tasting water before hurrying back down the stairs to her cot. As before the light winked off, flooding the basement with darkness. Squeezing her eyes closed, she wrapped the blanket around her and scrunched into a ball to keep warm.

Sobs caught in her throat. She swallowed them. They did no good. Daddy wasn't coming. She missed her daddy…sister…bro…ther.

Wh-what's…hap…pen
…

Suddenly her mind swirled, each thought there for just a second, then gone. She opened her eyes, but they immediately slid closed again.

Day five, 7:30 a.m.: Ashley missing one hundred and nine hours

Seated at J.T.'s table in his kitchen for the second morning in a row, Madison felt the strain in the air among Kim, Neil and J.T. Halfway through day five and they didn't have much to go on. So many clues led to dead ends—like Eric Carlton. No one at the hotel could place the person who had bought him the vacation. They couldn't even tell them if it was a male or female.

Yesterday evening after another prayer vigil at church, they had continued to check out the ex-cons and new people to Crystal Springs. Rachel was still delving into Max Dillard's background, but no good leads yet.

Although he had gotten more sleep last night, J.T.
appeared beyond exhaustion. He was functioning on sheer willpower. “I think you two should go back to school. Keep yourself—”

Neil interrupted. “No way, Dad! I couldn't focus on my classes.”

“Me, neither. I'm not going.” Kim crossed her arms, a pout on her face.

J.T.'s gaze skipped from one child to the other then back. “You have finals.”

“Our teachers understand.”

J.T. played with his scrambled eggs, his gaze glued to his food, his movements slow, laborious. Again silence descended. Madison wanted to hug each one. She wanted to give them as much strength as she had. They were unraveling before her eyes. She ached for them, especially J.T. He was used to solving crimes and the most important one he couldn't.

J.T.'s cell phone rang. Everyone lifted their heads and looked toward him as he unclipped it from his belt and put it to his ear.

“Go to Lakeshore Park.”

Click.

He froze for a few seconds with the cell plastered against his ear as the mechanical-sounding voice registered on his brain. Then his heart began to pound. His clammy hand holding the phone shook.

Madison's sharp gaze zeroed in on him. “What's wrong?”

He forced himself to take several deep breaths. “That was the kidnapper. He told me to go to Lakeshore Park.” J.T. surged to his feet.

“How did he get your cell phone number?” Madison asked.

“It's common knowledge. A lot of people know it. Can you stay with the kids?”

Everyone at the table stood.

“We're going, too, Dad.” Neil took a step toward the door.

“Yes, Daddy. We can't sit here waiting to hear from you.”

J.T. sent Madison a beseeching look. “I'm coming, too, J.T. We can call for backup on the way.”

He dug his keys out of his front pocket, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the others, each set in determination. Frankly, his children were probably safer with him. “Let's go. Madison, you make the necessary calls.”

As he sped toward the park near the lake, he questioned the wisdom of bringing his children. What if he found Ashley—dead? The last word shivered through his mind. He had to deal with it now because he couldn't afford to fall apart in front of Neil and Kim. They would look to him for guidance and solace.

Suddenly the real reason he hadn't left them at home struck him. Madison would have had to stay to protect them in case this was a ruse the kidnapper was using to get his other children alone. And he wanted Madison with him—for guidance and solace. It was scary how important Madison had become to him in such a short amount of time.

He pulled into the parking lot near the park entrance with three cars rolling in right after him. When he clam
bered from his Jeep, he called to Rachel, “I need you to stay with Neil and Kim.”

“Dad, I want to come and help look.”

“Me, too.” Kim gripped the handle to open the back door.

J.T. leaned in. “You two have to stay here. No arguments about this. Do everything Rachel tells you to. Understood?”

Both Neil and Kim nodded somberly.

Neil started to say something. J.T. held up his hand and pinned him with a fierce look. “Don't.”

J.T. strode to the group of agents and deputies. Matthew Hendricks directed different teams to fan out from the entrance and scour the park that ran three miles along the north shore of the lake.

J.T., paired with Madison, took the farthest southeast quadrant. He picked his way through the wooded area, comforted by Madison's presence only a few yards away even though they kept quiet to listen for any unusual sounds.

In the distance he spied a mound of blue, not moving. He could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a split second. The pain that ripped through his chest almost drove him to his knees. Fear like a rock anchored in his gut held him immobile for a few seconds.

Then he ran. Ran toward the blue mound. “It's her,” he shouted as his legs pumped as fast as they could.

Ten seconds later he fell to his knees beside Ashley, crumpled on the ground at the base of an old oak tree, her back to him. So still. He reached out to feel for a pulse but snatched his hand back, afraid to know the truth.

“Is she alive?” Madison panted next to him.

Lord, let her be alive. Let her be alive.
His arm trembled as he stretched it out toward Ashley.
Let her be alive.
He laid two fingers along her warm neck.

He squeezed his eyes closed, whispered, “Thank you, Lord,” and turned his daughter toward him. He scooped her up into his arms and held her. Tears gathered in his eyes. He blinked, releasing several to run down his cheeks.

“J.T., look.”

He glanced at Madison and followed the direction she was pointing. Then he saw it. A note he must have dislodged when he moved Ashley.

In bold red letters cut from magazines, it read, “This is only the beginning.”

Day six, 7:00 p.m.: Ashley found eleven hours ago

Madison entered J.T.'s kitchen and found him standing before the refrigerator with the door open, staring at the contents. But she suspected by the faraway look in his eyes that he wasn't really seeing anything before him.

“J.T.?”

Nothing.

She stepped nearer and with more force said, “J.T.”

He jerked around and faced her, slamming the refrigerator behind him. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“I know.”

“When did you get here?”

“Just now. Neil let me in.”

He lounged back against the counter, trying to appear
relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the stiff lines of his body. “I didn't hear the doorbell.”

“I didn't ring it. I knocked. I didn't want to wake Ashley up if she was sleeping.”

“She's not. She's playing a game with Neil and Kim in the den. They won't leave her side.” He peered at the refrigerator. “I came in here to make something for dinner. Or, rather, heat something up. The ladies of the church have been filling my kitchen with food all day long.” He swept his arm in a wide arc to indicate the counters with various dishes sitting on them. “I don't think I'll have to cook for a month.” Suddenly as though he realized he was chattering, something he never did, he clamped his mouth closed.

“Matthew and two agents have left. Paul Kendall and I are staying to help you with the investigation unless you don't want our help.”

He sighed. “Of course I want your help. This time it ended good.” His gaze drifted toward the window near the table as though he half expected to see the kidnapper spying in on them.

When he didn't continue, Madison waited until his attention returned to her before saying, “But the threat is there. The lab report came back on the note and pajamas. Nothing was found. No fingerprints. Nothing special about the letters, the glue, the paper nor the pajamas she was dressed in.”

“Somehow I'm not surprised. The note only confirms this is someone out for revenge against me. We need to double our efforts on the list of criminals. I thank the Lord that my daughter wasn't sexually assaulted. Put
ting her in pajamas was certainly an effective way to get to me.”

“I won! I won!” Ashley shouted from the den.

Madison glanced toward the doorway into the hall. “I'd like to interview her.”

“I already did. She doesn't remember anything except being in a dark—” he inhaled several large swallows of air “—basement on a cot with a scratchy blanket. She doesn't know how she got there or to the park.”