Vanished (15 page)

No one liked the thought of someone in their home.

Mason’s gaze went to the newspaper, and he shook it out of the thin plastic bag. He bypassed the front page and went to the Metro section, where the top story was the ransom attempt. Ava stepped closer and read about their wannabe ransomer. The teen’s mug shot accompanied the story. She scanned the article, finding it mostly accurate.

“Sounds like I missed quite the party last night,” Mason stated.

“You didn’t miss anything,” replied Ava.

Mason sucked in his breath, and Ava spotted the smaller headline a split second after he had.

OSP Detective on Leave in Prostitute Murder Case

“Damn it,” Mason whispered. The paper quivered in his hands.

“Oh no,” Ava said. She placed a hand on his upper arm in sympathy.

“What’s going on?” Wells asked.

She and Mason didn’t answer. They were both speed-reading the article. He flipped the pages to see the end of the story, and Ava mentally exhaled. The reporter hadn’t stated Mason’s name in the paper.

“‘We believe there was some inappropriate behavior,’” Mason read dryly. “Nothing like seeing your boss talk smack about you in the press.”

Ava winced. That had to hurt. “They don’t say your name. And the reporter does say the quote was given with the understanding that it was anonymous. Anyone could have said that. Or the reporter could have made it up.”

“Want to place bets that my name is in the paper tomorrow? This is going to drive the reporters to dig a little deeper. Nothing cranks up the public interest more than a report that a cop has crossed the line. And this was a big fat line.”

“But you didn’t do anything. No matter what they say now, they’ll have to publish the truth eventually,” Ava pointed out.

“Yeah, they’ll bury it on page twelve. An innocent cop doesn’t sell papers. Speculating that a cop murdered a prostitute puts dollar signs in their eyes. I’m surprised they didn’t put it on the front page.” He closed the paper and tossed it back on the table. Wells picked it up and scanned the article. He looked hard at Mason.

“What’s going on?” His gaze took in Ava. “You didn’t mention that he was on leave this morning. You just said he had a CI murdered. Does Duncan know?”

“He does,” said Ava. She gestured at Mason. “He obviously isn’t a killer. Someone has tried to make it look like he killed this poor woman. She was his informant.”

Wells looked at the paper again. “This happened Thursday evening?”

Ava could almost see the wheels spinning in Wells’s brain as he made the same conclusions that she’d pointed out to Mason minutes ago.

“No,” stated Mason, shaking his head. “It’s not all tied together. That little girl has nothing to do with a murdered prostitute. Don’t let this distract you.”

“Mason, you’re not considering—,” Ava began.

“Look. My dog, who isn’t my dog, has wandered off. That shouldn’t merit the attention of the FBI.”

Was he trying to convince them or himself?

“Christ. What am I saying?” Mason muttered. He stepped away from Ava and leaned over the kitchen sink, staring down the drain. The color had left his face.

It was finally sinking in.

Ava felt for the man. Not only were his coworkers speculating about what had happened with the prostitute, now the public was, too. She had a friend in LA who’d fallen under public scrutiny when his spouse had gone to a reporter with a story about how her FBI agent husband would beat her. The truth had finally come out, but not until he’d been crucified in the newspapers. He’d divorced his lying wife and been granted an immediate transfer to Texas.

He’d never been the same. The utter stress from the public exposure had been like nothing he’d ever experienced. He’d told Ava he’d rather go through months of academy training all over again than spend a single hour being tried in the public eye.

“We won’t jump to conclusions. But even you see now that we have to consider this might be related to Henley and your CI,” said Wells. “Will you be available to say a few words at a press conference? We’re going to hold one near the candlelight vigil tonight. Most of the news stations will already be there.”

A glance told Ava that Wells was struggling to hide his sympathy for Mason. It was easy to picture herself in Mason’s shoes. People with their jobs were held to a higher standard, and once the papers offered a whiff of scandal, any truth was often buried under speculation. It easily could have been any one of the investigators.

Mason blew out a breath. “Tonight? You’ve moved it to tonight?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. What if they’ve discovered my name by then? Is that who you want speaking for the family tonight?”

“That’s up to you and the Fairbanks family,” stated Wells.

Mason thought hard for several seconds and then nodded. “I told them I’d do it. The women are convinced they can’t do it without bursting into tears. This isn’t the time to worry about my own problems.”

“Do they know what’s going on with you?” Wells asked.

“No. They have enough to think about.”

Ava felt as if an invisible shield had just covered the man. The person they’d seen leaning over the kitchen sink, stressed out of his mind, had vanished and been replaced by a cop focused on his case. She silently applauded his shift but worried for his mental health. Her old coworker had nearly broken under the stress. Mason seemed to be able to compartmentalize his personal issues. He was the type of man who put his family before his job.

Or was he? Something had ended his marriage. Robin had hinted that he was a workaholic.

He wasn’t putting his family before his job, Ava realized. He was placing them before his own mental well-being. His job had been snatched away from him.

“What about your garage? Have you checked in there since you’ve been home?” asked Ava. She’d noticed the detached garage that sat behind the home. Mason shook his head and led them through the door to the deck. He didn’t say a word, and she could tell his mind was still processing the story and its potential to blow up to front-page news.

Who could he talk to? He must feel isolated from his peers.

He unlocked the side door to the single-car garage. His vehicle sat parked on the driveway in front of the building. They stepped inside the dark space, and he yanked on a light’s string over a workbench. There wasn’t room for his vehicle in the garage. He had three different workbenches full of woodworking saws and tools, and a row of cabinets overflowing with sports equipment. Looking closer, Ava noticed the sporting equipment was more suited to a child or teenager.

Jake’s stuff. He’s kept everything.

She wondered how long it’d been since Jake had used any of it. What appeared to be a four-wheeled ATV was covered by a tarp, taking up a large portion of the space. The area smelled of fresh-cut wood and old motor oil. Exactly how a garage should smell.

Wells pointed at a large metal locker. A gun safe, Ava realized. A huge one. She couldn’t imagine what it must have weighed. “You must have used a forklift to get that in here,” Wells commented.

Mason nodded. “Just about.” He spun the combination on the front and opened the door to a wealth of weapons.

“I know where I’m going during the zombie apocalypse,” Ava muttered.

Mason smiled at her over his shoulder then turned his focus back to the weapons. “Nothing missing here.” He slammed the door and spun the dial. Ava thought of her tiny safety gun case by her bed. She owned one weapon. It was enough for her.

He opened a few cabinets, scanning each one and then moving to the next. Ava glimpsed paint cans and gardening supplies mixed in with Jake’s sporting equipment.

“Looks like Jake played every sport there is,” Wells commented. He was watching Mason with sharp eyes. He hadn’t asked to look closer at Mason’s arsenal. Most men would have asked to spend a few minutes gazing at the weapons. Wells was private, and he respected other people’s privacy. It was one of the reasons Ava liked him. He wasn’t pushy or nosy.

Except when he needed to be for his job.

“Jake tried every sport at least once,” said Mason. “Some stuck, some didn’t.” He opened the last cabinet, scanned it, and started to close the door. He stopped and opened the door wider. And froze. Ava and Wells both stepped forward after exchanging a glance.

Ava saw baseball mitts, batting helmets, a catcher’s mask, a dozen baseballs, and three wooden bats.

It looked harmless.

“What’s wrong?” Wells asked.

Mason was quiet for a long moment. “There’s a bat missing.”

16

50 HOURS MISSING

When would the FBI finish asking questions?

Jake glanced at his mom. She sat stiff in her chair in the dining room next to Lucas with his hand clasped in hers. Lilian sat next to Jake and opposite his parents as they listened to Special Agent Sanford ask his million questions. Jake noticed Lilian couldn’t hold still. Her hands moved from the tabletop to her lap and to her cup of coffee and back again. Over and over. She shifted in her seat like she wanted to run away.

He understood that.

He was sick of being trapped inside the house. Trips to the command center didn’t count. He wanted to go see his friends or go to a movie. But that didn’t feel right. He shouldn’t have fun while Henley was still missing.

He brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand, fighting off the images that flooded his mind when he thought of his little sister. Henley tied up in a cellar. Henley outside and cold. Henley not breathing with her eyes closed in death. If he was struggling, then her mom and Lucas had to be suffering a hundred times worse. He shuddered and concentrated on Sanford’s questions.

“Have you looked closely at your personal things? Sometimes you don’t notice that something is missing until you go to use it.” Sanford looked at the women. “What about jewelry? I’d like you to take an inventory and pay close attention.”

“What?” asked Jake’s mom. “For something to be missing, you’re suggesting that he’s been in our homes!”

Lilian froze, her hands in midcycle on her coffee cup. “In my house?” she whispered.

Sanford lifted his hands in a “calm down” motion. “There’s been no evidence that he’s been in anyone’s home. Someone was on the porch of Detective Callahan’s home, but we haven’t had any police there watching over the house. You’ve had protection every hour since Henley was reported missing, and we don’t plan to end that any time soon.”

Lilian pushed back her chair. “I need to go look at my place. When I was there Friday, I didn’t look for that sort of thing.” Her voice shook, and Jake noticed that she hadn’t applied makeup that morning. Lilian always wore makeup. Without it, her eyes looked swollen and dark.

Or that could simply be from crying her eyes out over Henley. Jake knew he looked like hell. They all did. He’d heard that stress had physical effects on the body; today he was seeing it. Even Lucas looked older than usual.

His easygoing stepdad had become a hermit. Lucas would watch a movie with Jake if he asked, but Lucas didn’t talk and joke with him the way he had before Henley went missing. He was on the phone with people at work, in his home office alone, or sitting quietly with Robin. The two of them sat in easy chairs that looked out the big window over the backyard. Or else they went and sat outside in the cold. Their conversations low and private.

His mom had baked enough to start a large bakery. Jake noticed Robin didn’t eat her desserts, but she offered them to every person who came in the door. Every time an agent or cop walked out the door, they took a big bag of cakes or pastries with them. Right now Special Agent Sanford had a thick piece of lemon pound cake on a plate in front of him. Robin hadn’t asked him if he wanted it; she’d simply served it along with his coffee. That was typical of his mom. She liked to take care of people and feed them. Her stress about Henley was causing her need to nurture to expand exponentially.

“What about you, Jake?”

Jake blinked at Sanford. He’d clearly missed something important.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Jake cringed inside. He’d been caught daydreaming when he should have been listening.

Sanford gave a strained smile. “Have you noticed anything missing since you’ve been home? It must be a little hard to spot since you’ve been gone for a few months; things are bound to be out of place. But have you looked closely at the stuff that’s important to you? I noticed you have a ton of sports trophies in your room. Are they all there?”

“Uh, I think so. I’ll look, but I think it would stand out if one was missing. There’d be a hole.” Jake thought hard. Had he even looked at his shelves since he’d been home?

“What about out in the garage? Do you have sports equipment? I assume you haven’t used anything since summer. Would you notice if things were disturbed?” Sanford asked. His eyes had brightened, and he watched Jake closely.

Was this a trick question?
The agent seemed highly interested in his answer.

“You’re right. I haven’t looked at that stuff since summer,” Jake answered, watching the agent for his reaction.

“It’s not exactly baseball season, right?” Sanford smiled.

No shit.
“It’s been too cold,” said Jake. “And it hasn’t crossed my mind since I’ve been home. I pretty much just slept until Henley went missing.”

Sanford smiled and nodded as if Jake had confirmed what he was thinking.

What was going on?
“Do you want me to go look?” Jake asked.

“Soon as we’re done.” Sanford smiled again.

Jake didn’t like his smile. It was fake. Judging by the frowns on his parents’ faces, they didn’t care for the agent’s smile, either.

“The woman who had her minivan stolen remembers chatting for a moment with an older man who’d sat on her bench at the park,” Sanford stated, abruptly changing the topic.

The adults at the table straightened in their seats, their focus rising ten notches. Jake felt the tension inflate the room.

“Could she give a good description of him?” Lucas asked. “What did he say to her?”

Sanford shuffled his papers, annoying Jake. The man had dropped a bomb in the room, then paused to make everyone wait to hear more. A jerk of a move in Jake’s book. Sanford studied a sheet from his pile.

“She says a man sat next to her for a few minutes reading a novel. He made some polite comments about the kids, asking if they were excited about Christmas, that sort of thing. It was a breezy, cold day, so he was bundled up. She said he wore jeans and a heavy wool black coat that reminded her of a sailor’s coat.”

“A peacoat,” Lilian offered. “Like with a wide collar and lapels and buttons down the front?”

Sanford nodded. “Exactly. He also wore a black knit cap and glasses. Our witness says she didn’t really look at him in the eye because he was beside her and her focus was on the kids. But she noticed what he was wearing. He was gray haired and he needed to shave. She mentioned thinking that he seemed like ‘an old sailor’ with the cap, coat, and day-old beard growth. He left before she did. She’d felt bad that the noise from the kids might have made it difficult for him to read.”

Something slid into place in Jake’s brain.

“Did he have an opportunity to get into her purse and get her keys?” Robin asked.

Sanford nodded. “She thinks so. She said she had to help the kids with the playground slide a few times.”

Jake struggled with a faint memory. “A sailor?” he asked.

Sanford nodded. “She didn’t say he was a sailor. She said his coat and hat made her think of one.”

Jake’s mind sped backward. He scratched the top of his head.

“What is it, Jake?” Sanford’s sharp gaze was on him.

Jake scratched again. “I don’t know. That sounds familiar . . .”
Where had he seen someone like that?

“You’ve seen a man wearing that type of coat or hat? Was it in the grocery store the other day?”

He shook his head. That wasn’t it. “I can’t remember. Maybe I’m thinking of something I saw on TV.” The four adults watched him, and his mind went blank. “I don’t know. I could be mistaken.”

“You’ve only been home a few days,” Sanford said in a calm voice. “You said you’d only been to the store and your friend McKenzie’s house, right? Did you see someone like that at the airport?”

Jake looked at the ceiling and then the chandelier. Then his mom. He couldn’t place the memory. “Not the airport,” he mumbled. “And the man you have on video wasn’t dressed like that.”

“Exactly. He had a black coat and cap, but not like what the woman at the park described.”

Everything clicked into place, the image suddenly clear in his head.

A rush of excitement flowed through him and he leaned toward Sanford. “I’ve got it. It was a few weeks before I came home. I was walking toward the dorm when a car pulled up beside me, and a man offered me a ride.”

Sanford’s pen scratched his paper. “What’d he look like?”

“Exactly like you said. The knit hat and . . . peacoat?” Jake looked at Lilian, who nodded.

“Do you remember the kind of vehicle?” Sanford asked.

Jake searched his memory. It’d been dark, late at night. “Sedan. Four door. Not fancy. I don’t remember the make, but it wasn’t anything flashy. I notice nice cars, and I would have remembered if it’d been a Beemer or something.”

“Beat up? New?”

“Neither?” Jake rubbed at his chin. The car was a blur in his mind. He really hadn’t paid it any attention.

“What day was it?”

Jake took a deep breath. “I’m thinking . . . I was coming back from . . .” His brain raced.
What had he been doing? Josh had been with him at first . . .

“Pizza. We’d gone out to pizza on a Monday night. Josh and I. He stayed later because another group of guys came in, but I had an early class the next morning, so I left.”

“You walked home alone? In the dark?” his mom asked.

Jake shrugged. “It’s safe. Everyone does it there. It’s not that far.” He looked away from the fear in his mom’s eyes. Would she have asked the question if Henley hadn’t been taken?

Everything was different now.

“What did he say?” Sanford grabbed his attention.

Jake thought. “He pulled alongside the curb, the car still running, rolled down the power window, and asked if I needed a lift.”

“Did that seem odd to you since you weren’t that far from your dorm?” Sanford asked.

Jake nodded. “A bit. Most people walking that stretch are headed to the dorms. They don’t need a lift for that short of a distance. I don’t know why he thought I might be going farther. I told him no thanks and that I was almost home.”

“And then?”

“He said something like, ‘Oh, do you live in the dorms?’ And I told him I did.”

Lucas shook his head as Robin gasped.

“I guess I shouldn’t be saying that sort of thing to people I don’t know. I see that now,” Jake said.
Shit. How stupid was he?

“Things look different now,” stated Sanford, and Lilian nodded. “Did he say more?”

“Something like, ‘Have a good night’ and drove off,” said Jake.

“Do you remember looking at the plate? Was it North Carolina or maybe out of state?”

“I don’t remember looking,” said Jake. He had a mental image of taillights in his head but didn’t see the plate between them. “It creeped me out a bit. I just wanted to get back to my dorm room. I started jogging home after he left. Felt like a dork for running.”

Sanford nodded and made some more notes. “You said a Monday. How far back? Not this past Monday, right?”

“No, it’s been a few weeks.”

“More than a month?” Sanford asked.

“Noooo . . . I don’t think it’s been that long. Maybe three weeks? Two sounds too short.”

“Were you watching TV or sports at the pizza place? Do you remember if there was a game on?”

“No TV in there. That would have been a good way to figure it out, though.”

“How about tests or school projects? Were you eating out because you’d finished—”

“That’s it!” Jake leaned forward. “We’d both turned in a history paper that day. That had sucked big time. It was due on the fifth.” He smiled as he sat back in his chair, memories of the pizza night clear in his head.

“Good job,” Sanford said. “Any chance the man was in the pizza parlor before you left?”

Jake slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. It was packed, and I wasn’t looking at the people. You’d think an older guy would stand out, though. Most people in there are college kids.” Jake froze. “Holy cow. Do you think that guy tried to get me in the car to kidnap me? On the other side of the United States? That can’t be right!” Shock rocked through him.
Had
he
been the kidnapper’s target?

“How many police are at Robin’s parents’ with the little girls?” Lucas asked. Robin paled.

“We’ve got two Clackamas County deputies at their home. One outside and one inside at all times.”

“Are they safe?” Robin asked. She rubbed her eyes in frustration. “I want to bring them home, but I don’t think they should be around this stress and agents and police coming in and out of the house constantly.”

“They’re just fine,” Lucas reassured her. “When I talked to them on the phone last night, they barely slowed down to say hi. They wanted to get back to baking cookies with your mom. They’re in the right place for now.”

“I know.” Robin wiped a tear. “They didn’t even blink when I got up to leave after visiting them this morning, but I miss them.”

“I think you made the right decision,” added Sanford. “Kids are perceptive. They’d know something was up. What are your thoughts on going to the vigil tonight?”

“I want to go,” said Robin, looking at Lucas and Lilian, who both nodded in agreement. “But maybe Jake should stay home.”

“Aww, Mom!” Jake wanted to be there for Henley. He looked at Sanford. “There will be police everywhere, right? I’m sure it’ll be safe. Who would try anything in plain view of the cops? And we don’t know that someone tried to get me, right? It could be a coincidence.”

The adults looked at Sanford, who shrugged. “He’s right. He’ll be protected whether he goes or stays. I’m sure Special Agent McLane would stay at his side the whole time. I’ll talk to her about it.”

Jake nodded and sat back in his chair. He knew McLane would support his decision. He wasn’t going to hide in his bedroom while the community prayed for his sister.