Vanished (10 page)

Jake looked at Callahan and Sanford. “Have you found anything?” he asked Sanford.

The special agent took a deep breath. “We caught an image of a vehicle on your street in the time frame Henley went missing. We’ll find it.”

“Could you see Henley in the vehicle?” he asked, his voice shooting up an octave.

“No, son.” Callahan put a hand on his shoulder and pointed at the computer monitor. “That’s what they’ve got. Look familiar to you at all?”

Jake studied the screen, and Ava watched his reaction. His eagerness rapidly faded to disappointment. “No. I can’t even tell what kind of minivan it is.”

“Toyota Sienna,” Ava told him.

The teen shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before. Can you find it off that partial plate view?” His nose wrinkled as he leaned closer. “What are the last two numbers?”

“A two and a four. We cross-referenced those numbers with that model and got a list,” stated the agent seated at the monitor. “We’ve narrowed the list to the Portland metro area, and we’re sending out teams to knock on doors as we speak.” He glanced at his watch.

“Nice,” commented Callahan. “We need to get back to the house. I want to talk to Lucas about the press conference. I think I know what his reply will be, but I’ll ask.”

“Oh shit,” swore the agent at the monitor.

“What?” asked Sanford, Ava, and Callahan at the same time.

“I’ve got a report of a stolen Toyota Sienna, dark gray, with a two and a four at the end of the plate number. It was stolen two weeks ago in Salem.”

“Two weeks ago?” muttered Ava. She looked at Sanford. “Someone’s been planning this for quite a while.”

Mason’s brain throbbed. His day was continuing on a downward shitty spiral. Not only did his fellow officers wonder if he was involved in Josie’s death, now Henley’s kidnapping looked like it’d been carefully planned. They probably weren’t dealing with a spur-of-the-moment kidnapper who’d grabbed her from the street on a whim. Those slobs were the easy-to-find perps. They acted fast without thinking, were sloppy, and made mistakes, practically begging the police to find them. Now, it was possible that someone had meticulously planned the abduction for weeks.

He’d ridden back to the house in silence with Jake and Special Agent McLane.
Ava.
She’d asked him to call her Ava, but he kept forgetting. Probably because she kept calling him
detective
. They were living in the same house; it was time for first names. She’d been great with Jake today. For someone who didn’t have kids, she seemed to have an instinctive knack for knowing what the teen needed to hear. There was still some power play going on between her and Sanford, but she didn’t let it interfere with her work. The fact was, Sanford’s responsibility was to manage the command center, and Ava’s job was to keep the family in hand. Two very different positions. And it looked like they were both doing their part.

The announcement of the stolen van had elevated the energy in the room. Though the thought that someone had possibly mapped out Henley’s kidnapping for weeks was upsetting, the bureau looked at the theft as a possibility for leads. Two teams had immediately been sent to Salem to interview the theft victim and dig up what information they could on the crime. That didn’t mean the first list of minivans with those plate numbers had been abandoned. Agents continued to pursue those leads.

Mason’s mind boggled at the sheer manpower needed to rapidly process every lead. Thank God the FBI made child abductions a priority. An immediate AMBER Alert had gone out. The full plate number of the stolen minivan was announced on electronic highway signs, TV, and radio, and also sent to every cell tower in the Portland area. It’d been eerie to hear the pings and vibrations in the big room as his and every agent’s phone received the alert within a few seconds of one another.

Fuck those people who objected to getting AMBER Alerts on their phones and took steps to deactivate the public service. If their kid had been missing, they’d be screaming at the police to send an alert to every phone in the nation. What type of asshole got upset when a missing-kid announcement landed on their phone?

He and Ava had sat down with Lucas, Lilian, and Robin and asked them if they wished to participate in the press conference. Lilian had immediately flinched and drawn back. “I don’t want to go on camera,” she’d begged. Lucas and Robin had looked curious and asked why the sudden change in plans. Mason had already agreed to handle all media appearances. Why was he suggesting something else now?

Ava had gently explained the FBI’s reasoning of putting a face on Henley’s family. Robin blanched at the description of Henley as an “object,” and Lilian immediately burst into tears.

“So this could help? This could be a little trick to help protect her?” Lucas asked.

Ava had taken a big breath. “It might. It might not. Your family pictures have already made the rounds. The media has shown plenty of happy photos that demonstrate Henley was part of a loving family. But this might add a degree of realness that the photos do not.”

The three adults had looked at one another, scanning for reactions and searching for a common ground. Lucas finally spoke. “I’ll talk. I’ll say something.” Robin and Lilian had nodded, relief on their faces.

“I’ll prepare a more formal statement,” Mason told him. “I think seeing a united front from the three of you is a good idea. My first instinct was to protect all of you and keep you totally out of the public eye, but maybe I overreacted. It doesn’t hurt for the public to see that you guys really exist and are hurting, but I don’t want Jake up there.” He paused, eyeing Robin, who nodded in agreement.

Now Mason stared at the blank notepad in front of him. Why had he offered to be the spokesman? He hated speaking to reporters. He usually passed on that duty to the public information officer at work. It was his own dread of interacting with the media that’d made him want to protect the family from the experience. Now they were all going to be part of it.

Thirty minutes to go.

Crap. His mind spun, trying to form a coherent minispeech.

He was failing.

Ava crossed his line of vision as she paced in the backyard. She was on her phone, gesturing as she spoke. Her hand moved abruptly and sharply in a cutting motion in front of her. He couldn’t see her face, but the angle of her head was stiff.

She was not pleased with the person on the other end of the line.

Personal? Work? Argument with Sanford? Something wrong with the press conference?

She ended the call and rubbed a temple, shaking her head, her breath showing in the chilly air. His gut told him it was personal. She’d made a similar motion that morning after an email as he’d walked into the kitchen.
Her sister
. She looked at her phone screen and tapped it, then lifted the phone to her ear for another call.

Ray had said he’d ask around about Ava McLane. Mason tapped his perfectly sharpened pencil on his notepad and wondered what he’d found out. He hadn’t heard from Ray since the crack of dawn, and he hesitated to call his partner. What was being said behind his back at the office? Why hadn’t Ray called or texted him since that morning? Paranoia swept through him. Was Ray busy or giving Mason space to deal with Henley’s family?

Or was Ray being questioned about Mason’s actions in the days leading up to Josie’s murder? Had he been ordered to not talk to Mason?

Fuck me.

No wonder he couldn’t get anything on paper. He stared at the blank yellow pad.
Just thank the public for their concern. Say the family—

Ava swept in from outdoors, bringing a rush of icy air. Mason jumped in his seat, his focus shot again. He started to glare at her but froze at the expression on her face. Her eyes were bright, and she clutched her phone to her chest. His pulse skyrocketed. In the split second before he spoke, Mason’s brain shot to two opposite assumptions.

Henley is dead.

Henley is alive.

“What happened?”

“They’ve found a ransom note.”

11

28 HOURS MISSING

Ava sat motionless at the dining-room table, her mind spinning through the possibilities a ransom note could indicate. Yesterday when she’d sat in the exact same spot, meeting the Fairbanks for the first time, she’d known next to nothing about these people. Now they almost felt like family. She lived and breathed for the safety of their daughter. And she’d fight to keep their son from beating himself up with guilt.

How had her perspective changed so fast?

Henley had been a girl in a photo; now she was the daughter of friends. She’d known this would happen. Ava couldn’t work a case like this without getting emotionally caught up in it. Yes, it was painful, but it also made her more effective.

Robin clanked dishes in the kitchen, preparing coffee and putting together a plate of her midnight pastries as they waited for Wells to arrive. Ava admired the woman. She’d channeled her grief into keeping busy. The bathroom floors had received a scrubbing like Ava suspected they’d never experienced, and then Robin had moved on to the windows. The woman was levelheaded and practical, and knew how to calm and comfort her husband. Ava wondered if Callahan saw what he’d lost when they divorced.

Wells had called her, passing on the ransom news within twenty minutes of finding the note. He’d been brief with details, offering to stop by and talk with the family. “Don’t get them too excited about this, Ava. Let’s find out what we’ve got here. Don’t let them jump to conclusions.”

Translation: It could be fake. Don’t assume Henley is alive.

She’d blurted the news to Callahan, who’d immediately assembled the three parents.

Wells arrived and laid a photocopy of the note on the table in front of Lilian. Robin set the pastry plate on the table. “Coffee is brewing,” she stated, her gaze on the note.

“This was found at about eleven this morning on her elementary school playground,” Wells started.

“What?” Callahan asked. “That area has been covered a hundred times.”

Wells nodded. “Correct. Covered yesterday. Once it was determined Henley wasn’t on school grounds, and once we saw the video that showed she never even made it on the bus, everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere. The school was considered clear.”

“So someone left it last night,” said Robin.

“Or this morning,” added Wells. “We haven’t had any eyes on the area since yesterday.”

Ava stared at the note. “Is that crayon? Seriously? Someone wrote it in crayon?” Red print covered the page. It was too neat for a child to have written, but someone had deliberately chosen a child’s writing instrument.

“It’s not Henley’s writing,” Lilian stated. The blonde woman looked thinner to Ava. How had she lost weight in one day? She felt a bit guilty that she hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with Henley’s mother since their ride back from her apartment yesterday. She’d been focused on Jake and had let Lilian’s needs slide because she’d been quiet.

“It’s not a child’s writing according to our handwriting experts,” Wells said. “A full analysis is in process, but that was one thing we wanted clarified right away. We had to determine if this was worth following up.”

Lilian’s gaze flew up. “Of course it’s worth following up! It’s a goddamned ransom note! I’d hope the FBI would take something like that seriously!”

Sitting beside her, Lucas took her hand and rubbed it. “They’re taking it seriously. If it’d appeared to have been written by a ten-year-old, they would have handled it differently is all he meant.” He nodded at Wells, encouraging him to go on. Ava eyed Robin, wondering if she’d react to her husband holding his ex-wife’s hand. Robin had watched the action and then ignored it. Either she was extremely secure in her marriage or skilled at hiding her feelings.

“It was found on one of the play structures, folded up inside a plastic bag so that Henley’s name showed through the bag.” Wells flipped the note over, showing
Henley Fairbanks
printed in one-inch letters. “A mother found it. She took her two children to the school to play on the equipment this morning and discovered the plastic bag. Henley’s name caught her attention immediately, and she opened it, thinking it’d been left behind by Henley. After reading it, she called 911.”

“Why in the hell did she open it?” Lucas asked. “Why didn’t she call the police first?”

Wells shrugged. “She didn’t think it was anything. She was pretty upset when she realized she might have compromised some evidence. She said she hadn’t wanted to call the police simply because she found Henley’s name written in crayon on something.”

Ava nodded. As much as she hated that the woman had opened the note, she understood her reasoning. “It was left to be found,” she said. “I doubt she ruined any evidence. Whoever left it knew it’d be analyzed by the FBI, so they’d have taken steps to eliminate anything that could give them away.”

“No cameras on the area?” Callahan asked.

“None,” answered Wells.

“So what happens now? Will you do as the note asks?” Lucas’s voice trembled. “I don’t have that kind of money. Just because I own a business doesn’t mean I have a ton of money sitting around. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

If you wish Henley returned, leave two million dollars in a black backpack at the west side river walk in downtown Portland
at 7
P.M
.
Saturday night. Place the backpack behind the second bench from the south end in front of the seafood restaurant. The child will be left somewhere safely Sunday morning before 8
A.M
.

“Don’t worry about money,” Wells stated. “No one expects you to come up with two million dollars. That’s not what we’re focused on. We’re trying to figure out if this is a legitimate ransom note or someone taking advantage of the situation.”

“It’s not logical to ask for that kind of sum on a weekend,” said Ava. “Or expect us to wait until the next day for the child to be returned. And why did they wait so long to leave a note? This lacks credibility to me.”

“But we can’t just let it slide by!” exclaimed Robin. “What if they hurt her because we didn’t act?”

“We have negotiators here,” Wells reassured her. “And there is a negotiation specialist among the CARD team that we flew in.”

“But there’s no one to negotiate with. It’s a note! There’s no phone number or person to talk to. It’s simply ‘do this!’” Robin argued.

Ava sympathized. The note writer hadn’t left an avenue for communication, so the parents felt they needed to follow the directions of the note. Would it evolve into a hostage negotiation? She’d done the FBI’s specialized training for hostage negotiation and participated in three incidents while in LA. There was no bigger stress than realizing that your voice on the phone and the words you chose were the only things keeping a hostage alive.

She knew the negotiator from the CARD team; he’d been her instructor. There was no one better at talking down an angry person who wanted to strike out.

“We’re moving on it,” Wells said. “We’ve got agents headed to that area, and the actual note is being analyzed for any trace evidence the writer might have left. You’d be surprised what we can find on a piece of paper. Or on a plastic bag.”

“It’s not real, is it?” Lilian whispered. “It’s just someone trying to get some money out of us. There’s no proof here that this person has Henley. Wouldn’t a real kidnapper have known that’s the first thing we’d question? He would have put in some of her hair, or taken a picture to show he really has her.” Tears streamed down her face.

Ava leaned closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “There are going to be jerks out there who try to take advantage. They don’t care who they hurt along the way. Do you not want us to bring this sort of thing to you until we know for certain if it’s real?” She included Lucas and Robin in her question.

“Yes, we want to see this sort of thing,” Lucas stated after exchanging glances with Robin and Lilian. “We don’t need to know every trivial thing, but something like this is big. We need to see that things are being done.” He looked at the note again. “They’re very specific about how to leave the money. Black backpack. Which bench it should be set by. Someone seems to know the area very well.”

Wells nodded. “It’s typical for them to pick a site they’re familiar with. It gives them a sense of control over the event.”

“Do you think they work or live near the area?” Robin asked.

“It’s very possible. And we’ll look into that.”

“What did you find out on the stolen minivan?” Callahan asked.

“It was taken from a park in Salem,” Wells replied. “It belongs to a family with three young kids. Mom had the kids at the park and swears she locked the van, but she couldn’t find her keys when it was time to leave. She doesn’t know if she left the keys in the van, or if they were stolen out of her purse while the kids played.

“They were pretty shook up to hear it might have been involved in Henley’s abduction. The mother was rattled to find out that her kids might have been near a kidnapper,” Wells finished.

“Nothing on the AMBER Alert?” Ava questioned.

“All sorts of stuff.” Wells lifted both brows. “We’re getting calls about every minivan in the area. Our people manning the phones are trying to weed through the responses. You’d be surprised what people will call in. We posted the plate and color, but people are calling in with different-colored vans and completely unrelated plates.”

“Everyone wants to help,” Ava said with a sad smile at the parents. “Henley’s turning into the city’s child.” She turned to Wells. “Will the ransom be discussed at the press conference?”

Wells dropped his gaze and shuffled his papers around. “We’re gonna cancel the press conference. When this came in, it took priority and all available hands to process it as quickly as possible. I don’t think we should be using that manpower on a press conference.”

Ava saw Callahan’s shoulders relax. The man had been dreading the conference. Not everyone enjoyed pubic speaking, but Ava didn’t mind it. She’d welcome the chance to get up there and inform the public about the search for Henley. Should it really be cancelled? She bit her lip, not wanting to question Wells in front of the family. Judging by his behavior, Wells hadn’t wanted to break the news to them . . . Were there other reasons to cancel the press conference, reasons he was holding back? Callahan, his razor-sharp gaze on Wells, appeared to be having the same thoughts.

What wasn’t being said?

Wells pushed back his chair. “I guess that’s it for now. I’m going to find out where they’re at on the note.”

“Are they sending it back east to their lab?” Callahan asked.

“They will. They’re using the state police lab to run some tests first.”

“That lab is notoriously backed up,” Callahan pointed out.

“OSP is making this a priority. We’ve got a deadline of seven tonight.”

Mason munched the last of his Big Mac and washed it down with a Diet Coke. He crumpled up his napkin and shoved it in the white bag, then smashed the bag into a ball. He tossed the garbage into the can outside the door of the Oregon State Police building.

He didn’t feel right raiding Robin and Lucas’s refrigerator for food, even though they expected him to eat there. There was plenty of food because neighbors had dropped off casseroles left and right. When people didn’t know what to say, they made food and brought it over. He probably could have found something healthier in one of the casseroles. One of these days, his fast-food diet was going to kill him. Preservatives. Shouldn’t those make him live longer?

The hamburger churned in his stomach as he made his way to the building’s fingerprint lab, feeling like a common crook. A walk of shame. Why in the hell did he feel guilty when he hadn’t done shit?

Something was foul in this investigation.

His fingerprints weren’t in Josie’s apartment. At least not where the investigators claimed they were. Making new prints today should clear up the confusion. He swiped his ID card through the security pad outside the fingerprint lab and pulled on the door handle. A red light flashed on the keypad. He swiped his card again. Still red.

The acid in his stomach increased.

He peeked through the narrow window in the door and knocked. Relieved that he recognized the tech on duty, Mason relaxed as Tom Hannah strode to let him in. A tall, gangly guy, Hannah always had a big smile. Seriously yellow teeth, but you forgave him because his smile was so infectious.

“Hey, Callahan. Schefte said you’d be stopping by. Need new prints?”

“I guess. Looks like I’m turning up in places I haven’t been.” Mason hung his hat on Tom’s coat tree inside the door.

“We can’t have that happening. Let’s get you scanned again.”

“Say, Tom. My card didn’t work on the keypad.”

Tom Hannah frowned. “That’s weird. You get demagnetized somehow?”

“Beats me.”

“Maybe they’re fooling with the system.”

“Yeah, maybe.”
Like fooling with the system to lock me out?

Tom led him over to what looked like a photocopier with a computer monitor on top. He typed for a minute. “Date of birth?” he asked.