Vanished (9 page)

“I’m going to take care of you. You weren’t safe before.” She repeated the words she’d heard him say so many times.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

* * *

“Who did you say you were again?” Kiki Novak, Darnell’s ex-girlfriend, stared at Evelyn through a torn screen door and a haze of cigarette smoke.

Evelyn held her creds closer to the door. “Evelyn Baine, FBI. Can I come in and talk to you for a few minutes?”

She’d driven the half hour north from Rose Bay after Darnell had followed her into the dunes. He might not fit her profile in terms of race, but he was sneaky. And his behavior earlier had propelled him to the top of her suspect list. If anyone could give her more insight into him, it was his ex-girlfriend, mother of the girl whose murder twenty years ago had never been solved.

Kiki’s stringy brown hair swung forward as she squinted at the credentials, then she looked up at Evelyn, suspicion in her muddy-brown eyes. “Okay. I guess so.”

She held open the screen door and Evelyn walked into the house, almost a polar opposite of Darnell’s. The street Kiki lived on was clean and the neighbors kept up their lawns and houses. Kiki, on the other hand, had a house with solid bones, but everything inside was dusted with a layer of neglect.

Empty cartons and stacks of magazines lay discarded on the dirty floors. The furniture was a nice quality, but stained and ripped, as though the occupant had once cared about it, but didn’t any longer.

Evelyn followed Kiki through the entryway and into a living room, trying to lean away from the line of smoke that trailed from Kiki’s cigarette.

Kiki gestured to a recliner in relatively good shape, then sank onto the stained couch with a sigh and a drag of her cigarette. “What do you want?”

Eyes itching from the smoke, Evelyn tried not to cough as she said, “I have a few questions about Charlotte’s case.”

Kiki’s eyes went saucer-wide and clouded with tears. The hand holding her cigarette froze halfway to her mouth, and started visibly shaking. She held the position so long that a shower of ash fell onto the couch, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Finally she brought her cigarette to her mouth, sucking on it until her pale face turned even whiter and her lips went bloodless. Then she stabbed it out in an overflowing ashtray. “My daughter was murdered twenty years ago,” she whispered. “I thought there was no case anymore.”

Sympathy rushed through Evelyn, and regret. She’d been thinking of Charlotte’s death because it tied into the Nursery Rhyme case. And she’d been thinking of Kiki as Darnell’s ex-girlfriend, a possible source of information.

But really, she was just like Cassie’s parents. The difference was, Kiki had no more hope at all. She had gotten to bury her daughter, but she still didn’t know why. Or who had killed her.

Evelyn leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I know this is difficult. But there’s a possible connection between your daughter’s case and an open investigation.”

Kiki nodded, looking dazed. She blinked until her eyes were dry, then asked in a stronger voice, “What do you need to know?”

“Can you tell me about that day? The day you found her?”

Kiki tapped another cigarette from the package, but instead of lighting it, just clutched it in her hand. “August 6. Charlotte had turned ten a week earlier. I was working that day, and she was supposed to go to a friend’s house after school. When I got home, she wasn’t back. Darnell had been there all day and he said she never even called. I was mad. Like I said, she was supposed to be back by dinnertime.”

“Where did the friend live?”

“Down the street. We were in an apartment then, back in Mississippi. So, I called the friend’s house and it turned out she never showed up. I guess the girls argued at school and Charlotte told her she was going home instead.”

Kiki’s voice was monotone, and her eyes had gone flat, like she was retelling something she’d recounted dozens of times, but trying not to think about it. A common reaction to talking to police repeatedly, especially for the loved ones of victims. But it could also mean she was retelling the version she’d gotten used to reciting instead of what she actually remembered.

To break Kiki out of anything rehearsed, Evelyn changed direction. “Was it just you and Charlotte living in your apartment?”

Kiki blinked, some animation coming back to her eyes. “No, my boyfriend, Darnell, he lived with us, too.”

“How long had he lived with you at that point?”

“A year. Year and a half, maybe.”

“How long had you known him when he moved in?”

Kiki’s gaze darted upward, as if she was trying to remember. “About a year. We were together a long time.”

Darnell and Kiki had only stopped living together two years ago. They’d made it through Charlotte’s death with their relationship intact, which Evelyn knew from other child-killing cases was saying something.

“What ended the relationship?”

“With Darnell?” Kiki pursed her lips, then threw her hands up. “I don’t really know. One day, he just asked me to move out. No warning, nothing.”

“Okay...”

“Why? What does that have to do with Charlotte?”

Answering that question was probably a quick way to shut Kiki down, so Evelyn said, “Let’s get back to the day you found your daughter. When you discovered that she wasn’t at her friend’s house, what happened?”

“We called the police. Then Darnell and I started looking for her. We walked down the street to the school bus stop, but nothing. I was ready to go back up to the apartment and wait for the cops, but Darnell said let’s search the building. I don’t know why Charlotte would have gone anywhere else in the apartment building, but we looked.”

Her voice broke and she grabbed the edge of the couch, crushing her unlit cigarette. “We found her in the laundry room. It was down in the basement. Charlotte hated going down there. Gave her the creeps. But we walked in and there she was. We saw her feet sticking out from behind the machine.”

Kiki closed her eyes and tiny tremors shook her whole body. “She was dead. Strangled. And her clothes...” She broke off on a sob.

Evelyn put a hand on her arm. “I know. It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about that.” Charlotte Novak had been sexually abused before she was killed.

“I ran over there and tried to wake her up. Darnell, he pulled me away and checked for a pulse, but he couldn’t find one. So he tried to resuscitate her, but it didn’t work.”

And in the process, Evelyn recalled from the case file, Darnell had made testing for his DNA instantly problematic. Since he’d tried to revive her, there was a legitimate reason to find his DNA on Charlotte.

“Did Darnell say anything when the two of you found her?”

“What?” Kiki raised tear-filled eyes to hers. “I don’t remember. We were in shock, we were crying.”

“Both of you were crying?”

“Of course! Darnell loved Charlotte like a daughter!”

“He’d only known her for a few years, right?”

“Why does that matter?” Kiki’s teary voice got angry. “We were a family.”

She shot to her feet and seized a framed photo hidden behind a stack of papers, turning it to face Evelyn. It was taken at the beach. Darnell and Kiki were on either side of Charlotte, grinning widely for the camera. Between them, Charlotte had been caught midlaugh. She seemed happy, not at all uncomfortable with her mother’s boyfriend.

Evelyn tried to note the blond hair and dark brown eyes objectively, to focus on the confident posture and impish light in Charlotte’s eyes that suggested she was outgoing. But all she could see was a different little blonde girl whose memory she carried around everywhere she went.

“Look at him!” Kiki pointed to Darnell. “He loved her.”

“Okay. But you said he was home at the time Charlotte should have arrived from school, if she hadn’t gone to her friend’s house. Is it possible she did go up to your apartment that day?”

“No.” Shock flashed across Kiki’s face. “That’s... She couldn’t have made it up to the apartment. Someone must’ve taken her on her way home from the bus.”

“But the police investigated Darnell...”

“Did they arrest him?” Kiki snapped. “No, they didn’t. Because he didn’t do it. He never would have hurt Charlotte.
Never.
”

Evelyn stared at the fierce light in Kiki’s eyes, the hard angle of her jaw, the arms she’d crossed over her chest, and knew she’d never be able to consider the possibility that Darnell had killed Charlotte. Either she truly hadn’t felt even a flicker of doubt, or she couldn’t bear to believe it since she’d brought him into her home.

Evelyn suspected the latter, but either way, she wasn’t going to get anywhere with it, so she changed tactics. “Eighteen years ago, Darnell helped search for the victims of the Nursery Rhyme Killer.” In fact, she had no idea if he really had, but she held her breath, hoping Kiki would confirm it. “Did you go with him?”

At the mention of the Nursery Rhyme Killer, Kiki’s entire body shuddered, then she said, “No. I couldn’t. But Darnell wanted to help.”

Evelyn fought to keep her expression neutral. “He told you about it?”

Kiki narrowed her eyes. “Darnell would never hurt a child. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you to leave.”

Evelyn nodded, holding in her frustration. “I’m sorry to bring this up again. Thanks for talking to me.”

Kiki scowled and led her to the door.

As Evelyn got back into her rental car, she considered what she’d learned. If Darnell
was
the Nursery Rhyme Killer, starting with someone familiar to him wouldn’t be uncommon. Afterward, he might have realized that continuing to pick victims he knew could get him caught. Or he just hadn’t had any more easy access to preferred victims, so he’d begun to troll for ones he didn’t know.

Talking to Kiki hadn’t diminished her suspicion of Darnell. But it hadn’t given her much to work with, either. What she needed was a reason to get into Darnell’s house. But she had no idea what pretext would actually succeed.

And Brittany Douglas—if she was still alive—was running out of time.

Eight

M
andy Toland bit down hard on her lip, glancing behind her as she eased the sliding glass door open. Slowly, slowly. She couldn’t make any noise. Couldn’t let anyone know she was going outside. She’d already been stuck inside all day long. She didn’t want to get grounded, too.

When the door was open just enough to slip through, she went outside, a grin breaking free. She’d done it!

She figured she had fifteen minutes before her mom noticed she wasn’t in her room. That would give her time to run down to the end of the yard and pick some flowers to put in her room. If she wasn’t supposed to be outside, the flowers could come
inside
.

She understood why her parents were acting so crazy. Everyone at the park had been talking about it. She didn’t really know Brittany—they’d been in different classes—but she knew Brittany was missing.

The parents had all been whispering about it when they thought the kids weren’t listening. Mandy had heard little bits. Someone had stolen Brittany and no one had any idea where she was. She might even be dead.

Mandy shivered as she ran for the patch of daisies that were her favorite. Her great-aunt had died last year, which meant they’d never see her again.

Mandy wondered if she’d ever see Brittany again. They were all supposed to start middle school next year.

A funny noise from the trees made Mandy slide to a stop. She didn’t see anything, but it sounded like an awfully big animal.

Spooked, Mandy spun and ran back to the house as fast as she could, no longer caring if she got grounded.

* * *

Was Cassie’s abduction—and Evelyn’s intended abduction—the key to solving the case now?

Evelyn flopped in the uncomfortable chair in the corner of her hotel room, exhausted after giving Tomas suggestions for finding Brittany’s abductor. She’d fought hard to get a pair of cops assigned to do surveillance on Darnell.

In case it was someone else, she’d also recommended they look into deaths of children around Brittany’s age from prior to eighteen years ago. It was a long shot, but if the perpetrator was trying to make up for his own loss, the death might show up in a closed case file. And it would’ve happened a few years before the first abduction.

She knew that if she could figure out why the abductions had stopped, it would narrow down the potential suspects. And the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she was the key. If he’d planned to take her but hadn’t, what had gone wrong?

She didn’t need the case file to remember the note that had been left in Cassie’s bedroom. It had been burned into her brain a month and a half ago, when she’d requested the file.

The sick nursery rhyme had been based on “Georgy Porgy.”
The notes found at the previous two abductions had been left outside, where the girls had been grabbed. But Cassie had been taken right out of her bedroom, his riskiest abduction. And the note had been on her bed.

Cassie, Cassie, do you know why,

They don’t protect you, don’t try.

All alone, you and Ev play,

But today is the last day.

Just thinking about it gave her chills. The profiler on the original case had interpreted the note to mean the abductor was coming after both of them, and she agreed. Cassie had almost always called her Evie. The one exception was when they were going somewhere together. Evelyn could hear Cassie’s words in her mind as clearly as if she was speaking: “Let’s go, Ev!”

The fact that the abductor knew this proved he’d been listening closely. And it didn’t matter how often she tried to relive the days leading up to Cassie’s abduction. She didn’t remember feeling nervous, as though someone was stalking her, watching her every move.

All she’d felt was happy. She’d finally found her home, her life.

But he’d taken it from her. And now it was time for Evelyn to take his life away, too. It didn’t matter what she had to do; she wasn’t leaving Rose Bay until Cassie’s abductor was in jail.

But she’d been struggling from the very beginning to stay objective, to think about this case like any other. So, she dialed her BAU partner, Greg.

“Evelyn. How are you holding up? How’s the case going?” Greg answered.

“Hi, Greg. I wanted to run some theories by you.”

“Did Dan put you up to this?”

A surprised laugh burst out at Greg’s joke. She’d been at BAU just over a year, but her boss still babied her, suggested she get Greg’s help on every case. And normally, as much as she liked and respected Greg, that made her resist asking for help at all. She didn’t want to prove Dan right.

But on the cases where she really
did
want a second opinion, there was no one better than Greg. “No, I just need a little objectivity.”

“Sure. Tell me about the case.”

“Well, you know the basics.” She took a deep breath. “But eighteen years ago, the note on Cassie’s bed said he’d taken me, too.”

Shock rang in Greg’s brief silence. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn.”

There was genuine sadness in Greg’s voice, but Evelyn didn’t want to get bogged down in the past. If she did that now, she might never get free of the quicksand.

“I only found out about that part recently, but here’s what I need help with. Why
didn’t
he grab me? He took Cassie at night, left the note on her bed that said he’d taken both of us. I lived next door. Mr. and Mrs. Byers discovered Cassie was missing that morning. They’d checked on her once, so there was a seven-hour window when she must’ve been taken. What happened? That’s what I’m trying to work out.”

“Because if you determine that, it could tell you who he is,” Greg mused.

“Right. I gave the cops here a list of reasons this guy could have gone dormant for eighteen years—illness, jail, someone noticing him, victims in an easier capacity, trophies satisfying him.” Her nails dug crescents in her palms. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize this earlier, but I was just thinking about the note in Cassie’s room. And when I think
only
about that night...”

“Most of those reasons don’t seem to explain why he didn’t come back for you. If the trophies were going to satisfy him or he had easier victims, he wouldn’t have taken Cassie or left the note at all. An illness probably wouldn’t be that sudden. Jail is really unlikely, unless he took Cassie wherever he was keeping his victims and then got arrested between that time and as he was going back for you. It’s possible.”

“But, as you said, unlikely,” Evelyn agreed, trying not to imagine Cassie stuck somewhere, all alone, with no way out. Trying not to imagine her locked up in some hole, slowly dying. Her voice cracked when she told Greg, “What if someone realized what was happening? Maybe someone noticed him that night.”

“You think someone knows and is keeping this guy’s secret?”

Evelyn closed her eyes, sickened by the idea that someone had just stood by while Cassie was hurt, perhaps killed. “That’s why I want your opinion, Greg. Is there some other reason you can think of? Some reason he didn’t come back?”

“Well, he could have
planned
to go back for you, but got delayed and then it was too late.”

“Maybe, but it was the middle of the night. And he had a seven-hour window. He could’ve run into someone at home, but would he have gone home in between? Unless he lived
really
close? Since he left a note, every minute he waited meant Cassie’s parents might have woken up and decided to look in on her.”

“Could he have had a partner?” Greg asked. “Someone else who was supposed to grab you, but then changed his mind?”

“No.” The reply came out before she’d even really thought about it, but his suggestion didn’t make sense. The person who’d spent time stalking and studying his victims so closely, who left such personally motivated notes, worked alone.

“Okay,” Greg said, not questioning that she was right. “Then your perp is probably married. Or living with someone.”

“Damn it,” Evelyn muttered.

“And you’ve got a point,” Greg added. “That person must’ve noticed he was gone and either went looking for him or called him. Or he does live close by and went home and she kept him there.”

“And she probably knows what he is.”

“Or at least suspects.”

Fury built up to suffocating levels, but she tried to force it down and just think about how she could use the information. “So, this woman might have died and can’t hold anything over him anymore. Or they recently divorced or separated, freeing him up to start again.” Like Kiki and Darnell.

“And we can use that.” Greg said what Evelyn had been thinking.

“Involve the media. Put out a request for help.” Evelyn sighed. “She’s protected him this long. What are the chances she’ll come forward now?”

“Maybe if it’s anonymous,” Greg suggested.

A tip line. They had one, of course, but they hadn’t stressed that callers could contact them anonymously. If the woman was worried about being tied to the crime because she’d kept silent for eighteen years, maybe the promise of anonymity would work. Especially if Evelyn wrote a script for the police specifically targeted toward a woman like that.

“Thanks, Greg.” Evelyn stood, filled with nerves and anger and a tiny flutter of hope that she had something new to offer Tomas. Now, she just had to pray that the person who’d kept this secret for eighteen years would finally break his or her silence.

* * *

Kyle should have been resting up for the night’s surveillance. But whenever he’d tried, an image of Evelyn rose in his mind, the way she’d looked as she stared, dazed, at Cassie’s parents. She’d had an expression on her face he’d never seen before—as if she was terrified and alone. As if her responsibilities were burying her.

So, he’d gotten up an hour early, leaving all his heavy gear behind, and gone to Evelyn’s room. Which was stupid, because she might not even be here. Knowing her, she was skipping sleep and spending all her time at the Rose Bay police station.

But when he knocked, the door opened and she was standing there in capris and a T-shirt, her long, dark hair loose around her shoulders.

“Mac,” she squeaked as he tried not to gawk.

“I had some time before my mission, so...”

“Come in.” She cut him off, holding the door open.

He tried to hide his surprise as he walked inside, but she probably saw it. There wasn’t a hell of a lot she missed—except perhaps the huge crush he’d had on her. That, she’d managed to miss for about a year, despite Gabe’s constant and ridiculous hints.

Now, obviously, she knew. But what
he
still didn’t know was what she wanted to do about it. She was definitely interested, but he’d been called away too soon to figure out much beyond that.

Given the current circumstances, he’d expected her to be distracted and push him away. Instead, she was inviting him into her room.

It was tidy, with her travel bag tucked neatly in a corner and, surprisingly, no case files spread all over her bed. No notepads filled with profiling details on the table. Although, Evelyn being Evelyn, she’d likely memorized it all.

She perched on the edge of the bed, her feet jiggling as she looked up at him. The angle emphasized the circles under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders.

As he sat down beside her, the worn mattress sank, shifting her closer. “You doing okay, Evelyn?”

“I just got off the phone with the police chief.”

Okay, not exactly an answer to his question, but Evelyn hiding behind her work was pretty typical. Maybe she was doing better than he’d thought.

“He’s going to set up an anonymous tip line. I think someone knows who this guy is, Mac. Greg thinks so, too.”

She turned a troubled gaze on him and he immediately revoked his last impression. She was sharing case details. She was definitely not okay. She was just hiding it better than he’d expected.

“You still think it’s that guy from the dunes?”

“Darnell. Yeah, he’s at the top of my suspect list. But if it’s not...”

“What?”

She moved slightly to face him, her knee jammed practically underneath his thigh. “If those notes are genuine, if this guy really believes he’s saving these girls...”

She cut herself off, probably at the face he must’ve been making. The killer thought he was
saving
his victims? Damn. He saw a lot of screwed-up things in HRT, but at least he could go in fast and hard, and take down whoever was doing it.

Evelyn had to get inside these scumbags’ heads. How did she get back out again, case after case, without all that evil leaving some horrible imprint behind?

He folded her hand in both of his as she continued softly. “Mac, maybe Cassie is still alive.”

He’d gone on a raid in one of those cases—where a victim was still alive nine years after being abducted. A teammate had taken a bullet that day, so he’d been at the hospital when the girl’s parents had shown up. He’d seen the disbelief, the joy, the fear, on their faces as a nurse led them toward their daughter’s room. She’d been seven when she went missing and was sixteen when they’d found her.

They’d all known she had a long road back, but they’d thought she was one of the lucky ones. Later, they’d learned her Stockholm syndrome was far worse than anyone expected. Two years after her rescue, her captor had been killed in prison. Twenty minutes after the girl heard the news, she’d jumped off a freeway overpass.

Sadness flooded him and he tried to keep it off his face. But this was Evelyn, so of course she saw it and glanced away.

“Should I even want that? Eighteen years. I know what that means. I
know
.”

Her gaze lifted to his again, hope brimming from her eyes. “Maybe it’s better just to hope she’s gone, but I’ve never really been able to...”

He raised her hand, tugged her closer to wrap his arms around her, and she fell against him, twined her free hand around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

The first time she’d kissed him, a month ago, it had been tentative, questioning. There was nothing tentative about this. She actually got up on her knees to eliminate the height difference between them, practically in his lap as she crushed her lips against his.