TOMMY FOUGHT NOT
to squirm as Burroughs continued to stare at him. He’d halfway expected a visit from the detective, what with the anniversary of Charlotte’s disappearance coming up, but he’d never thought he’d be confronted with him here at Beacon Falls.
The only thing the detective and Tommy had ever agreed on was that Charlotte hadn’t left voluntarily. The rest of the police had lost interest when the trail went cold and evidence suggested that Charlotte might have left of her own accord—something Tommy would never, ever accept. Not that he and Charlotte didn’t have the occasional argument—difficult to avoid since they both worked in the same hospital and their cases often overlapped—but
they
were solid. What they had together, that was real.
Even if Charlotte
had
left him, she’d never, not in a million lifetimes, leave Nellie. Which was the core of Burroughs’ case against Tommy. He had questioned Tommy for hours, driving home the point that there must have been something god-awful terrible going on inside the Worth house, something so horrific that the only way Tommy could protect himself and keep custody of his daughter was to kill Charlotte and silence her permanently.
Typical cop, always jumping to the worst-case scenario. And once the story was solidified in Burroughs’ mind, he simply would not let go. Last time Tommy had seen the man, he’d told Tommy, “You might have the rest of the world fooled with your ‘aw shucks, I’m just a doctor who loves kids’ act, but you don’t fool me. Not one bit. I’ll be watching. Nothing better happen to that little girl of yours, or I’ll be all over you faster than a bum on a chipped ham sandwich.”
Now, seated only a few feet away from the detective, Tommy fought to meet the man’s gaze. Not because he felt guilty, but rather because, despite leaving the ER to focus on finding Charlotte, Tommy had failed to bring his wife home. He didn’t give a damn about failing in Burroughs’ eyes. But… Nellie. He’d failed
her
.
Someday soon, she’d know that. Understand it. And he’d have to face her. He’d no longer be her hero, the daddy with the superpower to fix all ouchies and scare away any boogiemen. He’d be the man who’d lost her mother, the one left behind with no answers.
The sudden sound of laughter cut through his thoughts. He glanced up, realized Sarah was relating the story of how she’d been found. “So then I say to the trucker, ‘Who you calling ma’am?’ And he turns beet red, starts apologizing, but I say, ‘No, really. I have no freakin’ clue who I am or how I got here.’ Then the you-know-what hit the fan.”
She turned to smile directly at Tommy, as if realizing he was only just now tuning in and forgiving him for his lapse. “He runs me to the nearest hospital—guess I’m lucky the guy was so nice, I mean, he could have gotten away with anything and I wouldn’t have known any better. The ER docs say everything looks good except my ankle is a little sprained and my brain is a little bruised. They kept me overnight while the state police came, took my fingerprints and all. Good thing I’m not a wanted criminal, right?” She leaned forward. “Know who cracked the case? PennDOT!”
“PennDOT?” Wash asked. “They’re the ones who found out who you were?”
“The staties ran her face through the DMV facial recognition software,” Oshiro said. “Found a match to the registered owner of one of the vehicles at the scene.”
“Just like they do on all those TV shows,” Sarah added. “Kinda feels like I’m in one—like this isn’t even real.”
“What about the car?” Tommy put in, daring Burroughs’ wrath. “Or her driver’s license? Wouldn’t the DMV have access to former addresses? Might be a starting point.”
Burroughs rolled his eyes. Thankfully, it was Oshiro who answered. “Yeah, we thought of that. Her previous address was to a vacant lot in Altoona.”
TK looked up at that, but Burroughs quickly added, “Vacant because it was an old bottling plant that was used for Penn State-Altoona student housing before the owner sold it and tore it down to make way for a strip mall. We’re waiting for him to dig out the housing records and for the folks at Penn State to check their enrollment records.”
“Your car was broken into?” TK asked. “Was it the only one? Targeted?”
Burroughs answered. “There were seven cars at the trailhead left unattended.”
“He means parked,” Sarah interjected.
Both Oshiro and Burroughs smiled at her comment. “Anyway, they were all broken into,” Burroughs continued. “Isolated area like that, great opportunity for a smash and grab.”
“At least Sarah’s was locked,” Oshiro added.
“Right,” she said brightly. “So we’ve established that I’m not an idiot, leaving my car—vehicle—” she added with a nod to Burroughs, “unlocked. Since the car is a Prius, I’m guessing I’m environmentally conscious as well.”
“Cell phone?” Lucy asked.
Sarah shrugged. “Not with me. Maybe I’m forgetful? Or it needed charging?”
“Anything else in the car? Receipts, notes, maps?”
“Only thing left was broken glass, a spare tire, and a jack,” Burroughs answered.
“And a repair bill,” Sarah added ruefully. “I didn’t even know the car was mine. Only thing I recognize, including my face, is this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a slightly battered, professional-looking camera. Despite its size and obvious weight, she hefted it easily in one hand. “Had it with me when they found me. ER nurses said the only time I got hysterical that first night was when they tried to take it from me. Like it’s my baby or something.”
“Did you run the info from the camera card?” Wash asked.
“All the photos are from Saturday, all taken at Fiddler’s Knob,” Burroughs said. He slid a data storage card across the table to Wash. “Here’s a copy. Maybe you can get more from it than we did.”
“But surely there was something at your current address to give us more information?” TK persisted. Tommy noticed that Burroughs gave Lucy a little nod at that.
Sarah smiled. “I guess not. Detective Burroughs went through my apartment while I was in the hospital. I was only there long enough to change clothes before we came here.” She gestured to her outfit. “At least I remember how to tie my shoes and button a shirt without help.”
As a joke, it fell flat. Sarah tensed the slightest bit, and Tommy realized she was straining to make it seem as if this was a totally normal situation—when it was anything but. He edged closer to her, hoping that knowing they were all on her side would help.
“Nothing on the public appeals?” Lucy asked Burroughs.
“Not yet. We’ll keep them going, update you with any progress.” Burroughs shifted in his seat, frowning at Tommy—or at Sarah, it was hard to tell. “Honestly, I’m not sure where to go next.”
“Which, I’m guessing, is where we come in.” TK sounded excited. Tommy had to admit, it was nice not to be digging around cases where all they had to work with were decomposed bodies and ancient trails of clues that led nowhere. “Boots on the ground.”
“You mean fingers on the keys,” Wash said with enthusiasm.
“Exactly,” Oshiro said. “It’s not a criminal case, but we’ll assist with the public appeal and any court orders you need to access databases.”
“Not that that’s not going to lead anywhere fast,” Burroughs cautioned. “Without a crime or exigent circumstances, cutting through the red tape is going to take forever. Companies and organizations are more concerned about protecting themselves against a violation of privacy lawsuit by releasing the wrong info than they are helping someone who may or may not have a right to that info.”
“How can I prove I have a right to anything if I can’t find out who I am?” Sarah asked. She spread her arms wide. “It’s like I don’t even exist.”
“So we have a name, social, basic demographic data—”
“I’m not data,” Sarah interrupted Lucy. “I’m a person. Please help me. I just want my life back. Do I have a family out there worrying about me? Or maybe not, since they haven’t come forward, but maybe they don’t even know I’ve lost them.”
She stood, fists balled in frustration. “Maybe I’m some crazy cat lady, living alone, and not one single person in the world would have noticed if I never came home. I don’t know. Or maybe…” Her voice dropped and she seemed to focus on Tommy, but that was probably just his imagination since he was fighting with everything he had to hold it together; her questions were a mirror image of the ones he’d been struggling to answer for almost a year. “Maybe there’s someone out there who loves me, who’s waiting for me… and to him, I’ll just disappear. Poof.”
She rapped her knuckles against her head. “All because of some stupid slip and fall. My life—my real life, who I was—could vanish forever. And he’d be left waiting, never knowing. I can’t take the thought of that. Could you?”
The tear surprised Tommy. Only it wasn’t Sarah’s tear. It was his. Funny, he could barely feel it. His face felt frozen, numb. But inside—
He pushed back his chair and turned away before the others could see. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, not trusting his voice, as he forced himself to walk, not run, from the room.
He lurched down the hall, toward the stairs, needing air, needing space, needing… he wasn’t even sure what.
BURROUGHS, CLEARLY ANGRY
at Tommy’s reaction to Sarah’s story, turned to follow him, but before Lucy could intervene, Oshiro placed a palm on the detective’s arm, holding him in place.
“You’ll help her?” Oshiro’s question was for Lucy alone, but she answered for her entire team.
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. We’d best get back to work. Right, Burroughs?”
Burroughs narrowed his eyes at Lucy. “Right,” he said grudgingly.
He and Oshiro moved to the door.
Lucy followed, intending to check on Tommy. When she drew near Burroughs, he glanced back at Sarah, who’d sat back down, arms folded in a posture of waiting.
As they stepped into the hall, he said to Lucy, “Watch Worth around her. He’s trouble. If I’d known he was working here—”
“I can take care of my team,” Lucy snapped. “And our client.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat but nodded. “Keep me in the loop.”
“Will do.”
The two men left, and Lucy turned to the window beside the staircase landing. She could see Tommy pacing along the edge of the bluff, hands balled into fists, shoulders hunched, his entire body twisted into a walking question mark.
Questions, she thought. She had plenty of those. How to get some answers?
Before she could decide on a direction, the door behind her opened and TK emerged, followed by Wash, his chair gliding over the polished oak floorboards with ease.
“Tommy okay?” Wash asked. Despite his frequent joking, Wash was the most empathetic member of the team.
“Are you sure he’s the best person for this case?” TK asked. “Maybe he needs a little time. Get his head together.”
Lucy frowned. “He handled sexual assaults and child abuse cases all the time when he worked in the ER. This case should be relatively pain free.”
Wash and TK both looked away from Lucy. Damn, she hated being the new kid on the block. “Okay, what am I missing? I mean, I know his wife is gone and that’s why he came to work here. But this isn’t a missing person case. We have the person. It’s her past we’re trying to find. If anything, that should bring him some relief or hope, right?”
“It’s just that Charlotte’s case, the anniversary…” Wash stalled out.
“It’ll be one year in two days,” TK finished for him. “Still no leads. No idea if she went voluntarily, if someone took her, if she had an accident, or… if she did something to herself. Nada. Not a single blessed clue. Every time the cops start looking, every time he tries to chase down a lead, it just breaks his heart all over again.”
“You think Sarah’s case is too close to home for him?”
Both of them nodded.
Lucy hesitated, watching Tommy out the window. Misery radiated from him as he walked the bluff. She knew from her own experience with trauma that isolation was not the solution. Plus, she wanted to keep an eye on him.
“Benching him is only going to make things worse,” she decided. “TK, you and I will work directly with Sarah. Why don’t you get started, gauge her baseline?”
“Baseline?” Wash asked. “The girl can’t remember anything. How are you going to get any kind of baseline?”
“She remembers more than she realizes,” Lucy said.
“She dressed herself, remembered how to tie her shoes,” TK added. “Remembers how to use idioms in her speech.”
“But that’s all like muscle memory.” Wash gestured to his legs strapped to his chair. “After I got shot I remembered how to walk, but that didn’t mean my legs could do anything about it.”
“Which is why we need to see where Sarah’s memories start, map them out. Like a minefield,” TK said. She glanced at Lucy. “You want a cognitive interview, right? Use her sensory impressions as triggers?”
“Right.” Lucy added, “Wash, Tommy can work with you on the leads the detectives couldn’t close out.”
Which basically meant database diving—Wash’s favorite pastime—and dumpster diving, tracking down the origin of anything of Sarah’s they could get their hands on. Including her garbage.
And it was past time that Lucy delved into the specifics of Tommy’s wife’s disappearance. If it was going to impact his work, she needed to know more about Charlotte Worth.
<><><>
LUCY WAITED FOR
the others to clear the hallway before attempting the steps. Going down was always more painful than going up, but she refused to use the house elevator. Every step was rehab, she told herself as she gritted her teeth against the pain and slowly hobbled down the staircase.
She grimaced as her weight settled onto her left leg. Days like today, she regretted abandoning the cane, but it felt like too much of a crutch. Honestly, it didn’t even decrease the pain—instead, it alerted other people to hover and try to help, which was, in its own way, just as painful.