Vendetta (17 page)

But he had allowed it.

She'd thought the same questions as well. Most of the time she simply accepted she wasn't going to come up with another answer. God made the world. Sin entered the world and God had given man a choice. Free will. It was as simple as that.

Except it wasn't simple at all.

Because even with those explanations, she still wrestled with layers of deep-seated emotions and the constant trying to figure out how to let go.

Tyler leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I go to church, listen to the pastor, and end up wanting to run out of that building by the end of the sermon because I can't justify what God did. And then I feel like a hypocrite for being mad at God and blaming it all on him. Instead, I smile and keep going
to church for Liam. And because I know Katie would want me to be there, and her parents expect me to be there, but that's it. I don't feel the way I used to, and to be honest, I'm not sure I want to at this point. I don't have anything left to give.”

Nikki stared out at the terraced yard, now soaked with rain, and contemplated her answer. “Maybe that's okay.”

“Yeah, I'm sure God is happy I show up at church with the attitude of wanting to be anywhere else but there. I'm sure he's okay with the fact that I blame him for what happened to Katie.”

“I'm serious,” she said. “If he knows what you've been through, then he knows that you have to work through your grief. Isn't blaming him a stage of the healing process?”

“I know plenty of people who have suffered loss and react completely opposite to the way I have. They tell stories of how tragedies have strengthened their faith, but I'm not like that, Nikki.”

How many times had she felt the same way? Instead of tragedy strengthening her faith, she felt instead that she was holding on for dear life like she had been yesterday morning on the side of the mountain. Like she was hanging on a tattered rope—one false move and it would all be over.

But surely God understood their pain as well as their reactions.

“I want to blame God,” Tyler continued, “because I know he could have stopped my losing Katie and Liam losing a mother. I get the fact that bad things happen to good people, and we will all experience pain, but that doesn't make it any easier.”

“I know, because not only have I felt the same thing myself, I've watched my mother struggle to move forward. She's never completely healed from losing Sarah, and I'm not sure she ever will.”

“But she didn't lose her faith,” Tyler said.

“No, but her faith—or maybe just the way she looks at life and God—has changed.”

“I don't know. I accept the fact that Katie's gone, because I have no choice, but that doesn't stop me from questioning. Or feeling guilty in the process.” Tyler clasped his hands together, not even trying to mask the defeat in his voice. “It's ironic. I'm supposed to be going to school to learn how to counsel people to deal with loss, but when it comes to myself . . . I'm completely lost, Nikki.”

She looked up at him, not knowing how to respond. Wishing desperately she could take his pain away.

“But I'm also ready to find a way out,” he said. “So I can start living again. I need to for Liam, and I know Katie would want me to. I just don't know how.”

He was close enough that she could read the pain in his eyes. Anything she'd thought had passed between them earlier had been clearly imagined on her part. He was still in love with Katie.

“Thanks for listening to me,” he said.

“Always.”

He glanced at his watch. “You need to sleep.”

She might feel like arguing, but as usual, he was right. The case had drained her both physically and emotionally.

He pulled her up from the porch step and they walked into the house. Sam and Irene were sitting at the kitchen table drinking mugs of tea, still going through Sam's files.

“So did he finally convince you to get some sleep?” Irene asked.

Nikki forced a smile. “Just for a couple hours. I'd like to head back to the command post by three and get a jump on things. But thank you. Both of you.”

“Anything to bring that girl home,” Sam said. “Just lock the door on your way out when you leave. I'll come by in the morning to see you.”

A minute later she was settled on the couch.

“What about you?” she asked Tyler.

“This recliner's probably more comfortable than the bed I sleep on at home.” He pulled a light blue afghan from the back of the couch, pulled it over her, then bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, Nikki.”

“Good night, Tyler.”

“As soon as we find her, I'll buy you that breakfast,” he promised.

“I'm counting on it.”

She watched him walk away, then closed her eyes, her thoughts still on Katie, Sarah, Bridget . . . and Tyler . . . and willed herself to sleep.

“Nikki?”

Nikki sat up at the sound of Tyler's voice and tried to reach through the fog that had settled on her brain. She glanced at her phone—2:45. “My alarm didn't go off.”

“I turned it off. You were sleeping so peacefully. I thought I'd give you another ten minutes.”

A dimmed light still glowed over the large dining room table where they'd been working. Boxes and files lay among an empty bag of Oreos and the bag of microwave popcorn Irene had fixed for them.

Nikki rubbed her eyes as the frustration of the past twenty-four hours rushed over her. If they didn't stop him now, Bridget wasn't going to be his last victim.

She glanced up at Tyler. “What about you? You've got to be exhausted as well.”

“I closed my eyes for a few minutes on the recliner. I'm used to not sleeping more than four or five hours a night.”

Another result of Katie's death. “That doesn't mean it's good for you.”

“I'm fine. Can I get you some coffee? Irene left a pot in the kitchen we can heat up.”

Nikki sat up, forcing herself to wake up. “That would be great. Thanks.” Her phone vibrated on the coffee table beside her. “That's got to be either Jack or my mom this late.”

“I'll be back in a minute.”

Nikki stood up, stretching her back as she picked up the phone, her brain still seared by a heavy fog of fatigue. “Hello?”

“Nikki?”

“Yeah . . .” She tried to place the voice, but came up blank. “I'm sorry. Who is this?”

There was a short pause on the line. “Did you find the photo I left you?”

Did
you
find
the
photo
I
left
you
?

The words shot through Nikki like a hard punch to the gut, sucking the air from her lungs. The room spun. It couldn't be him. She'd wanted to believe they were just dealing with a copycat, because he'd dropped out of the game years ago. She'd always imagined him turning up dead after a drunken brawl in some deserted back ally, or locked away in some high-security prison, caught for another crime he'd committed. Because the alternative meant he was still out there. Silently snuffing out the lives of other young girls one by one.

Like Sarah.

Like Bridget.

“I'm disappointed, Nikki,” he said. “I expected more of a response from you.”

She started to hang up, then hesitated. She had to be right. This couldn't be
him
. Just some bad imitator wanting some attention. But if she hung up and it was him, or if he really did have Bridget . . .

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Do you really need to ask that? Sometimes I think you know me better than anyone, Nikki, after all these years of searching for me.” He laughed. “By the way, I've been wanting to congratulate you on your recent promotion. I'm sure you've become a huge asset to the governor's latest special task force after you've studied every case of missing girls you could get your hands on. Memorized abductors' MOs and profiles—mine included. It's funny, though, how you're their poster girl, and once again, you haven't been able to find the girl you're looking for.”

Nikki sat back down on the couch, her legs shaking. “If you're who you say you are, tell me where Bridget is.”

“I might. In time. But not now. She's not who I want to talk about.”

She looked up as Tyler walked into the room with two mugs of coffee in his hands. Nikki mouthed
Angel Abductor
, then switched to speakerphone
.

Tyler's eyes went wide. He set the mugs down on the coffee table, pulled out his phone, then started recording the call.

“If you don't want to talk about Bridget, then why are you calling me?” she asked.

“I thought we could talk. I've always enjoyed getting to know the girls. Getting them to trust me before I took them. You wouldn't believe how easy it is. Throw a bit of charm their way, a few compliments . . .”

Nikki fought the nausea spreading through her. Tyler squeezed her hand and motioned for her to keep him talking.

She gnawed on her lower lip and nodded. “Tell me where Bridget is.”

“Once again you surprise me, Nikki. I thought you might be more interested in talking about the day Sarah vanished. You can't imagine how disappointed I was when the authorities didn't find her, considering the clues I left.”

“Is she alive?” Nikki couldn't fight the growing emotion
pressing against her chest. Ten years of searching, hoping, praying . . . She was realistic enough to know that the chances of Sarah being alive were slim, but even if there was only a chance of finally finding out the truth . . . Even that would help fill in the holes of grief left behind by her sister's disappearance. “Please . . . please tell me where she is.”

His hollow laugh mocked her. “Begging doesn't suit you well, Nikki. It makes me feel you're not a worthy opponent, and I'd hoped that you were more worthy than Sam Bradford and the rest of his team.”

“Sam?”

“He was more focused on his retirement than closing another case. He missed things he shouldn't have, but you . . . you should have found them, Nikki.”

“What did I miss?” She caught Tyler's gaze. She'd gone over and over every transcript, witness report, and piece of evidence available. Just like last night, everything appeared to be nothing more than dead ends, and nothing had managed to lead her any closer to Sarah. “If you wanted me to find her, tell me what I missed. Surely it can't make any difference if I know now.”

“She was wearing an
I
Love New York
sweatshirt that day and looked so pretty with the sunlight streaming behind her. It made her hair look almost white,” he said, ignoring her question. “Just like an angel.”

Nikki squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears as he continued speaking. The summer before Sarah disappeared they'd taken a family trip to New York and seen the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and walked through Central Park. Sarah told her she would have been happy to have spent the entire week at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

“She told me you'd promised to pick her up,” he continued. “Figured you must have gotten caught up in traffic. She was worried about a test she had the next day. Spanish, if I remember
right. She was worried she wasn't going to have enough time to study if she didn't get home soon, so I offered her a ride. It was so easy.”

“No.” Nikki's voice cracked. “Sarah never would have gotten into the car with a stranger—”

“Who said I was a stranger? Who said any of them were strangers?”

“So you did meet them in person before you took them.”

“It wasn't that hard.”

The tension in her neck was back. Pulsing across her head to her temples as she tried to absorb what he was telling her. That
was
the connection they'd missed. Each girl had known or at least had been familiar with him before he'd even attempted to take her.

They'd missed that connection. Even after she'd looked, cross-referencing everyone from gardeners to school personnel, people at church and after-school dance classes. She'd looked at each one meticulously, and like the police, she'd eventually made the assumption that the abductions had been random. But he'd planned each one. Possibly even weeks in advance.

“You're there with Sam now, aren't you?” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Desperately trying to figure out what the two of you might have overlooked. Hoping that you'll be able to find a connection in Bridget's abduction that will in turn end up leading you to your sister.”

She felt the warmth of Tyler's hand and drew in a slow breath. She wasn't going to engage in an argument. She needed information. Needed him to keep talking.

“Sam's not working this case anymore, but you're right,” she said, “we never found a connection. But you must be calling me for some reason. You must want me to know what that connection is.”

In all the profile studies she'd read on him, she'd never felt
as if he'd wanted recognition. But maybe she'd been wrong. Or maybe he'd changed over the years. Maybe he'd continued quietly killing young girls, using a different MO.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

“I'm here,” he said finally. “But I've already given you enough. Now you're going to have to find the connection. And find out why I'm back.”

Nikki's heart raced. She'd managed to fool herself into believing the Angel Abductor was gone, even though it wasn't uncommon for years to pass between crimes committed by serial killers. Some simply stopped, never getting caught. Others quietly took their secrets to the grave.

She pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders, still shaking. She wasn't done yet. She needed to keep him talking. “You haven't really told me anything. What do you want from me now?”

“I've said enough. I'm sure we'll speak again soon.”

“No, wait . . .”

The call went dead.

Nikki dropped the phone onto the coffee table as if it were poison and watched it skitter across the surface. Her heart raced. Her stomach felt as if she was about to heave.

“Nikki?”

She stood up abruptly, pulling away from Tyler's grasp. Turning too quickly, she jammed her elbow into the lamp on the side table. It tumbled onto the hardwood floor, shattering the glass base.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the quiet house. Tears burning her eyes, she knelt down and grabbed one of the large shards of glass, stabbing herself in the process. Blood pooled at the end of her finger. She automatically stuck the injured spot in her mouth.

“Nikki, stop.” Tyler grabbed her wrists and eased her back
onto the couch. He grabbed a tissue from a box on the floor beside the couch and started wrapping her finger. “Forget about the lamp. I'll clean this up. Call Jack and have him trace the number.”

“It won't matter. It'll be another dead end.”

She felt completely frozen inside. As if a part of her had died—again—from hearing his voice. And that wasn't all. Accusations and guilt flooded through her. If they'd caught him a decade ago, they wouldn't be looking for Bridget today. And Sarah might still be with them.

“Nikki.” He knelt in front of her, tilting back her chin with his thumb so she had to look at him. “None of this is your fault, but I need you to focus. Maybe he's simply getting scared, I don't know, but you need to call Jack. He might not be able to trace who bought the phone, but he might be able to get us a location.”

She nodded, took the phone he handed her, then punched in Jack's number. He had to be nearby. Watching her. He knew she was here with Sam. She didn't expect Jack to be able to give her a name. He was too smart to have not used a burner phone. He'd simply called because he knew how hearing his voice—and not knowing who he was or where he was—would destroy her.

“Everything okay?” Sam flipped on the switch near the doorway as she hung up the call with Jack, flooding the living room with light. “I thought I heard a crash.”

Nikki still sat on the couch, phone in her hand, her forearms resting on her legs, trying not to shake. Trying not to relive every moment of panic she'd allowed herself to succumb to since her sister's abduction. Or the fact that she'd just spoken with the man who ripped her family apart forever.

“I'm sorry, Sam . . .”

Tyler looked up from where he was carefully picking up the shards from the lamp she'd broken. “The lamp fell over.”

“Forget about the lamp. I'll be right back.”

He returned a moment later with a dustpan and broom. “Why do I get the feeling this isn't really about the lamp?”

“He called me,” Nikki said, still unable to move. “The man who kidnapped Sarah.”

“Whoa . . . the Angel Abductor called you?”

Nikki still shivered despite the warmth of the room. She could feel herself shutting down like she had the afternoon Sarah had gone missing.

Sam grabbed a plastic trash can from beside the desk and held it while Tyler dumped in the glass. “What did he say?”

“That we missed clues. That he was disappointed we hadn't been able to find Sarah.”

“I recorded the call,” Tyler said.

“I want to hear it.”

Tyler sat down on the couch across from Nikki and replayed the conversation. Sam leaned against the armrest as he listened to the conversation, the lines on his forehead marked with worry.

Tyler stopped the recording at the end, then set down his phone.

“What do you think, Sam?” Nikki said. “Do you think this guy's for real?”

Sam shrugged. “I don't know.”

“And why now?” Nikki asked. “Why surface after all these years, and why involve me?”

“Because it's personal?” Sam said, throwing out ideas. “Because he wants something. Maybe a reaction from you?”

Nikki tucked her feet underneath her and pulled the afghan tighter across her shoulders. She didn't know how to put the pieces together. Didn't understand what he wanted from her. All she knew was that he'd left her feeling vulnerable, and they still weren't any closer to finding Bridget.

“What about tracing the call?” Sam asked, running his hand across his graying beard.

“Jack's trying to get a location on the phone right now.”

“You're still exhausted,” Tyler said.

“It's part of the job—”

“He's right, Nikki,” Sam said. “This isn't just a lack of sleep we're talking about. You're emotionally exhausted.”

She glanced at her watch. “I need to go relieve Jack and Gwen.”

“Your boss can get a couple of officers to man the command post tonight in case any more leads come in,” Sam suggested. “I'm going to make the call now. I've still got contacts within the local police department.”

Nikki frowned at the two men. She couldn't fight them both. And she wasn't sure she was going to be able to function without a couple more hours of sleep.

Her phone rang again. This time it was Jack. “What did you find?”

“Traced the phone to the other side of town.”

“But he knew I was with Sam.”

“It was either a lucky guess,” Jack said, “or more than likely, he could be tracking your phone like he did with Bridget. I could send some uniforms your way if you're worried—”