Kidnapped (23 page)

She tied the short piece of ribbon off her candy stick around the pot-stickers sticks and took them upstairs to add to her memory box.

* * *

Caroline woke up when she heard the sheriff move into the hallway, preparing to leave. She listened to Luke, hearing the tension and fatigue in his voice as he made final plans to meet up for the search tomorrow. The door shut, and minutes later Luke came upstairs and walked down the hall to check on Benjamin.

It's going to be okay, Luke. We'll survive this.
If finding her stalker was the next step they had to take, they would take it together.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

L
uke pulled into the driveway of his home in Sandy Hill very early Wednesday morning. He needed to pick up a change of clothes and search out the document copies from his safe, as Mark was in no shape to visit the bank deposit box to retrieve the originals.

Neither one of them wanted to risk the paperwork not being in order should a question arise regarding Benjamin's legal guardianship while Sharon was missing. Reporters were digging into anything that could be behind the snatch, and the task force had already had to dodge questions about Mark's partners and his recent marriage. Before he unlocked the front door, Luke picked up the newspaper from the stoop and lifted the lid on the mailbox to confirm his neighbor was picking up his mail.

The Friday paper still sat open on his kitchen table, a pair of scissors marking the comic page. Dry cleaning hung on the coat rack ready to go out the door with him, and the smell of lemon oil hung faintly in the air. Helpless bachelor didn't fit his lifestyle. Luke set down the current day's newspaper and glanced at the pile of mail on the counter. It would wait for another day.

He moved through the house turning on lights and took the stairs two at a time going upstairs. There was no reason to have a place with four bedrooms and two baths except for the fact he liked having the space. His one concession to the job, the travel, was the fact he had bought a house in a co-op community so he didn't have to keep up a yard.

He took a fast shower, washing away the grime, and returned to the master bedroom. It would be a day spent with the sheriff interviewing people. Luke pulled out a blazer to go with the dark slacks and white shirt. Out of habit, he reached for a tie.

He listened to the weather report as he stopped at his chest of drawers, picked up his wallet, and slid it into his inside coat pocket. The handgun in its holster was clipped to his belt, with two additional clips beside it. He picked up his badge and polished it, then slipped it onto his belt beside the gun. The Bureau should pay him more, but otherwise he had few complaints. For all the problems a bureaucracy as large as the FBI created, it still had room to let him be a lawman first and foremost.

He met his eyes in the mirror as he combed his hair, accepting the shadows he saw and their cause without dwelling on the emotions. Luke set down the comb and nudged Mark and Sharon's wedding photo from last year back into alignment with the one of his parents. They looked so happy in that photo.

He clipped a small flag to his lapel, a gift from Benjamin, and then slid a handkerchief into his pocket, figuring if he didn't need it before the day was over, Caroline might.
God, what do You think? A quiet day with a successful outcome? You know what's coming.
Luke looked at the wedding photo again as he slipped on his watch, then stepped away from the dresser. He efficiently packed a bag to keep him going for a week.

Luke headed to his private office. Case notes were stacked beside his laptop. He often worked here for a brief time before heading to the office in Sandy Hill. Jackie was one of the few agents he'd met who routinely kept the same early hours as he did. They'd chosen each other as partners out of a desire for sanity; they both preferred to do a day's work before lunch. He punched in her number on his phone as he knelt to open the safe.

“Jackie, what are the headlines?”

“We got a couple more possible sightings of Frank Hardin overnight. I'm running them down.”

“Where?”

“Milo, which makes them interesting.”

“Putting him back in the area. Anything I can help with?”

“I've got it covered.”

“The sheriff and I are going to work names off that stalking list this morning unless something more urgent comes in.”

“Henry James is focused on the roadblocks and media right now. It's going to be midday before a lot of the forensic data will be available from the campsite.”

“I'll plan to be by this afternoon to update on whatever the sheriff and I find.”

“I'll stay in touch, Luke. I 've got a call coming in, gotta go.”

He hung up the phone, satisfied his partner was plugged into the latest news at the task force.

Luke sorted papers and found the document copies he sought. Mark's adoption of Benjamin had just recently been approved by the courts. Luke knew he was listed in Mark's will, and Caroline was listed in Sharon's, setting up dual guardianship and administration of a trust in Benjamin's name should anything happen to Mark and Sharon. It would help to have a dual power of attorney designation added specifically referencing Benjamin and any medical care he might need.

He slid the papers into his briefcase and closed the safe. He spun the dial.

He glanced at his watch. Caroline should just be getting ready to take Benjamin out to distribute flyers. He tried her cell phone. “It's Luke. How was breakfast?”

“I'm a fan of donuts, which I think you knew. Thanks for buying the chocolate-filled kind.”

“They're another thing we have in common. I'll stop by and pick you and Benjamin up at the community center around noon. I've got Mark's prescriptions. Anything else you need me to bring?”

“That will do.”

“I think your phone battery is going dead.”

“I'm going to see about getting a new one today; this battery won't hold a charge anymore. Noon at the community center; Benjamin and I will be ready.”

“See you then,” Luke replied, letting her go. He turned off lights and locked up his home again. It was odd to realize Caroline had never been here. He'd have to fix that one day soon. It was a nice place to entertain, and he'd enjoy having her at his side hosting an evening for their friends. One day . . . This storm was going to end, and life would return to normal. He had to hold on to that hope.

* * *

Luke held the squad car's rear door open for Caroline. “I wish you had stayed with Mark and Benjamin.” The list of names in his pocket the sheriff had helped him put together was slowly being crossed off as they gathered enough information to either clear a person or move the name to a list to investigate further. He hadn't vetoed Caroline's request to ride along with them, knowing it was easier on him to have her around as this day unfolded. But now he was regretting that decision. As the list dwindled, Caroline grew more and more tense.

“I need to do this. I'm okay, Luke, just tired.”

He let his hand rest reassuringly on her shoulder for a moment, then he closed the door. In some ways it felt their roles had reversed overnight. He had something to work, and in the activity there was some relief, while Caroline was now the one able to only watch events and feel the weight of what they might discover today. Luke feared word would come about Sharon today and be the worst kind of bad news.

Luke picked up the stack of folders. “Who's next on the list?” he asked the sheriff.

“Gary Gibson. We'll try the farmhouse first.”

The drive took only five minutes, and during the short ride, they passed two volunteer groups who were walking the roadsides, looking for anything out of the ordinary. If only they had something to go on to give those volunteer groups a chance of turning up good news.

“I'd like to stop by the volunteer center later today,” Caroline said.

“We'll go in tonight and help serve dinner for the volunteers,” Luke offered.

The sheriff turned off the main road onto a graveled winding road. Luke felt uneasy and couldn't put his finger on why. “It's a large place.” Cattle grazed in the expansive pasture coming down to the edge of the road, and it looked like acres were planted with corn and beans.

“Most of the land is rented out to be farmed.”

The road turned to the right and the farmhouse came into view. The two-story home looked to be built in roughly the same era as Caroline's home, but it did not appear well maintained. The roof looked reasonably new and a breezeway off the side of the house looked like a recent addition.

Luke checked the file. “Gary has only one vehicle, a gray pickup truck with blue trim?”

“Yes.”

Caroline turned to look back toward the barns. “I don't see it.”

“Neither do I.”

The sheriff parked in front of the farmhouse. “Gary isn't one to be out in the fields or checking on the cattle. If he's around, he'll probably be near the house.”

Luke got out of the car. “Why don't you stay put, Caroline? This may be a short stop.” She nodded and Luke closed his door. He walked with the sheriff up the walk on to the porch. Chimes mounted on the top of the well moved in the breeze.

The sheriff knocked. “Gary, you home? It's Rob. I need to talk with you.”

No answer. Luke walked down the porch and around the house to look in the windows. The living room looked deserted. He saw no sign of a light on inside. “You said he had a darkroom?”

“I believe so.”

“He probably built it in an interior room of the house that already had no windows. Why don't you check the barn for his truck. I'll walk around and try the back door. I'd hate to leave only to find out later he was here and working.”

The sheriff nodded.

Luke walked through the tall grass around the house. Why did the man keep flower beds if he never weeded them? The two concrete steps to the back door had begun to chip. Luke knocked on the back door, then opened the screen and knocked again. “Gary, are you home?” He listened but heard no sound of movement. Not entirely surprised, Luke stepped back to the yard.

A kitten appeared briefly from under the stoop and disappeared again. Luke knelt to coax the kitten into coming back out. The guy liked cats; Luke supposed that was to his credit. This one looked to be about three months old. Luke picked the kitten up and carried it as he walked the west side of the house, checking windows. He stepped around a rosebush to see in the window of what he guessed would be one of the back bedrooms.

“There's still no sign of his truck,” the sheriff said, walking over.

Luke slowly lowered the kitten to the ground, then stepped closer to the window, raising his hand to stop the sun's glare on the glass. “Get us a warrant. We've got probable cause.”

Feeling a bit sick, Luke stepped back so the sheriff could see.

* * *

Luke walked the hallway of Gary's home, studying the photographs lining the walls. Gary had spent a lot of time documenting a house fire. A few photos showed firefighters at the scene as the fire burned and part of the roof collapsed. The rest of the photos were taken in the weeks and months afterward, as the remains of the home weathered with time.

Gary had used the burned-down house as a photo study, projecting his own moods onto the burned-out wood. Twisted beams still reached into the sky set against the blue of a noonday sky. Ash drifting away in a breeze. A slim blade of grass poking up through the rubble. A flower in bloom projecting up through a broken picture frame. “This guy has talent.”

“Photography is probably the only safe outlet he has for his emotions since the accident,” Caroline said. “He'd occasionally show me the photos he was having framed.”

“I don't think you should come any farther.”

Her hand in his tightened. “I'll cope with it. It's not going to be worse than I have imagined.”

Luke stepped into the office he had seen through the window. The room had tall ceilings and narrow windows, the lighting good and the furniture sparse. Only a couple dozen framed photos hung on the walls, but they were enough to get them a warrant.

Luke stayed by Caroline as she paused in the doorway and took everything in. They were clearly photos taken without Caroline's or Sharon's knowledge.

There were photos of Benjamin going back to when he and Sharon had lived at Caroline's home. “You can tell when he found the zoom lens and mastered it. He's putting himself in your lives.” Luke stopped at one of the photos. “This one looks recent.”

“That sweatshirt—it's from last fall. And from the lighting, he had to be watching me sometime around dawn. Do you think he was making those phone calls?”

“Probably.”

Caroline stopped by one of Sharon putting groceries in her car. “We never saw him.”

Luke rested his hand on her back. “You didn't see him because he didn't want either of you to notice him.” There were empty places on the wall. Luke stopped and touched one of them, seeing the different amount of fading on the paint from the sunlight. “This one was removed recently. He must have taken his favorite photos with him.”

“Can we find his darkroom? see if there are negatives still here?” Caroline asked.

“It's set up back in the second bathroom,” the sheriff said, rejoining them. “Based on the trash creating a stench in the kitchen, Gary left fast and he hasn't been back here in a few days.”

“With those kinds of burn scars, he's not going to be exactly inconspicuous as he travels. So where would he be heading?”

“I don't know if he owns property beyond this farm.”

“What about the insurance settlement after the accident? Didn't he receive that recently? Has he spent any of it in the last months?” Caroline asked.

“I'll start making calls to find out.”

Luke led the way to the darkroom to see what they had to work with. Several strips of negatives hung from the shower curtain rod. A small counter had been built out from the wall, extending over the bathtub to form a stand for the photo wash trays. Spiral-bound books of negatives sat stacked beside the stool next to glass jars of developing solutions. “This place is a fire hazard.”