Pursuit (19 page)

J
ulie contacted Captain
Walker and discussed her theories on how the cases connected.

“Okay,” said Walker. “Meet me at the office. We'll start pushing some of these interviews again. See who we can shake up.”

When Julie and Todd pulled up to the office, Captain Walker was outside, talking to two very serious-looking men in dark suits.

“Who are these guys?” Todd asked.

“I'd say feds,” guessed Julie, not too excited about the development.

Walker made the introductions as they approached. “Julie Worth, Todd Devlin, this is Supervisory Special Agent Jason Tyler and . . .” He trailed off, having already forgotten the second agent's name. “Agent Tyler was just offering his support.” Walker gave Julie a look that clearly meant “Play nice.”

“Sergeant Worth, we are sorry to hear what you're going through. We are here to offer the full resources of the Bureau.”

“Thank you.”

“Such as?” asked Todd.

Tyler flashed a quick and easy smile. “We're not here to take over your case, Officer. We've been talking to Captain Walker, and he was quite clear.” He shot Walker a quick glance. “This case is being directed personally by him and the Missouri Highway Patrol. And so far, we have no evidence to support that Sergeant Worth's daughter has left the state, so it is still not a federal case. We want to offer to handle this with the other potential victims around the country. Captain Walker says this guy might be a serial—”

“Abductor,” offered Devlin.

“Yes, sir.” Tyler smiled again. “We are staffing a command post in Saint Louis as we speak. We've requested copies of your cold cases, as well as others around the region. The Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico is already opening a case, building a profile. The crime lab already has a file open and is searching other pending unsolved cases. And we have agents around the country who can chase down interviews, so you guys can focus on finding Sergeant Worth's daughter.”

Julie nodded.
This might not be so bad after all
, she thought.

“We also have an Amber Alert issued. Anyone traveling with a pretty sixteen-year-old blonde in the Midwest will probably be interviewed. If they are not moving—”

“You mean if she is already dead?” Julie interrupted.

“No, ma'am.” Jackson Ross spoke for the first time. His face was solid and strong, and, unlike his supervisor, smiling did not come naturally for him. “We mean if he is holding her, in a room or a basement somewhere.”

Julie shivered at the image involuntarily.

Ross continued, “And if he is, we can bring Hostage
Rescue in from Quantico and get her back.” He held her eyes, his confidence undeniable and a little contagious.

“Special Agent Ross will be the case agent on this,” explained Tyler.

“Have you worked abductions before?”

Ross nodded. “Maybe a dozen.”

“How many have you solved?”

“All but one.”

“How many victims did you get back?”

Ross continued to look into Julie's eyes. “Alive? Four.”

Julie looked away. Jesus, she'd had better odds in the mall.

Tyler interrupted. “If we could get those files, we'll get out of your way.”

As the captain and Tyler walked off, Julie asked Ross, “So how did you get stuck with us?”

Hearing the question, Tyler stopped and turned. “Because he is the best I have at this.”

Julie looked at Ross, who nodded briefly, as if to confirm his supervisor's assessment. For the first time in a couple days, Julie smiled. “Then let's go find this motherfucker.”

And for the first time, Ross's face broke into a broad, engaging grin. “Yes, ma'am. Let's do.”

T
odd, Julie, and
Captain Walker stood at the wide double doors of Pastor Garthwait's church. Makeshift tents and large cabana-style beach umbrellas crowded the yard next to the church parking lot.

Walker scuffed his new black combat boots on the rough concrete. “Of all the fucking—” He stopped and looked around. “Of all the days to have a church bazaar, they gotta pick this one.”

When they arrived, a man identifying himself as a church deacon assured them that he would round up the good pastor. A scratchy “Onward Christian Soldiers” recording blared from somewhere in the crowded Bedouin-like encampment.

The reverend came from within the church. He appeared in a tight-fitting black suit, white ironed shirt, and patterned tie. Julie's eye caught his polished black shoes.

He looked as if he had been eating, wiping his hands on a delicate handkerchief, which he stuffed back into his pocket. “What, pray tell, may I do for you?”

“We'd like a few minutes with you in private, if we may.”

“And you are?” The reverend looked perplexed.

“Captain Walker, Missouri State Patrol.”

The man paced across the broad concrete landing of the church steps. He brushed lint from his suit jacket. “This is not convenient for me now, Captain. As you can see, we are in the middle of a celebration.”

Walker made impatient clicking sounds with his tongue. “You've been interviewed by Sergeant Julie Worth recently, do you recall?”

“Yes, so? And?”

“We're investigating a kidnapping.”

“She told me, and I relayed to her—”

Walker held up his hands to stop the clergyman. “It's not that kidnapping. Do you have an attorney?”

“Why do you ask, my good man?”

“Because if I have to get a court order to speak to you, you're probably going to need counsel, understand me?” Walker took a step toward the man.

“Sir, may I?” Julie asked.

Walker signaled for her to speak.

“You recall my having spoken to you, correct?”

The pious man blinked.

“We have something we think is relevant pertaining to a recent kidnapping. It may have a link to your daughter's case.”

“As I attempted to tell this elite member of the”—he tapped his heels together in a halfhearted salute—“I'm in the middle of a financially important church function.”

“Listen to me.” Walker turned his back to the tented crowd. “I'm going to tell you something confidential. Sergeant Worth's sixteen-year-old daughter was abducted last evening, and the sergeant's friend was ruled dead at the scene. That death, because it was connected to the kidnapping, is believed to be a homicide.”

Julie took in a sip of air at the spoken words.

“We also have evidence that it is related to your daughter's abduction. We want to show you a few pictures.”

The reverend paced again and then nodded.

Walker looked him in the eyes. “Not here.”

Garthwait stepped aside and opened the double doors to the church foyer. Set up at the back of the gallery, a long table piled with plates of fried chicken, potato salad, and corn on the cob. A young woman sat alone at the far end of the banquet table.

“Excuse us, please.” Walker gestured for the woman to trot along.

Todd moved aside a plate of salad and opened a manila envelope, spreading five eight-by-ten-inch photos on the table. “Any of these look familiar?”

“Where did you get these?” The reverend adjusted his glasses and leaned over the table.

“Let's just stay on point here, okay? Where we got these is not important.” Walker pushed the photos closer. “Any of these look familiar? Do you recognize the ring? Can you answer the question? Please, we're pressed for time.” Walker tapped at the table's edge.

“That's my grandmother's ring.” Garthwait pointed to the center photo.

Julie resisted putting her hand to her mouth.

Walker stepped closer and lifted the photo close to his eyes. “How can you tell? The letters on top are broken.”

“Look at the bottom, inside of the ring. My grandmother's initials in Old English script.”

Julie stepped forward to take a look. The initials
DG
appeared more like worn scratches. Todd gathered the photos, slipped them back into the envelope, and headed for the door, with Walker and Julie close behind.

The reverend shuffled his feet. “What does this mean vis-à-vis my situation?”

Walker stopped at the door. “It means, vis-à-vis, that you are to remain quiet about this discovery. Understood? Even a hint of a rumor that gets out will be on your head, not to mention your soul. Good day”—he slammed the door—“sir.”

They burst into the morning light. Behind them, Reverend Dr. Garthwait. “Thank you. The Daughters of the American Revolution thanks you.” His voice rose to a gospel-style head tone.

“That ass.” Walker slapped the top of his squad car. “I didn't handle that well. Sorry.”

“If no one else will say it, I will.” Julie hesitated. “We are dealing with a serial”—she almost said “killer”—“abductor.”

Walker's phone buzzed in his breast pocket. He held up a finger to them while he answered with a series of uh-huhs.

Todd and Julie waited in silence.

Walker ended his call and looked at his two underlings. “That was UltraTest in Chicago. Prelim work on the blood from the branch you gave them the other day and the specks in the mason jar show identical blood type. No DNA yet, of course, but I don't think we need it.”

“Why is that?” Julie said.

“The guy has a rare blood type.”

“How much so?”

“Very. AB negative. One in a hundred seventy. It's not DNA, but close enough for now. Probably a white male.”

Todd leaned against the fender of the squad car. “That links the Garthwait and the Preston mur—” He stopped and looked at Julie. “Sorry. The blood on the leaves and
branch puts him recently visiting the Preston abduction scene that happened seventeen years ago. But how does that link—”

“He saw me in one of the interviews,” Julie blurted. “Probably not Preston; her house is too isolated.”

“When you went to the factory, who saw you?” Walker asked. “Were you identified?”

“Yeah. I walked through the cafeteria with the secretary, nosed around a little after my lunch with Drew. That's William Drew, sir. Head honcho at Drew Inc. Do you know if the box factory has come up with that list of employees yet? The ones who were working at the plant when the niece was taken?”

“Nah, let me check.” He phoned his secretary and stepped away from the squad car.

Julie and Todd had nothing to say to each other. They both paced, Julie watching the chosen as they arrived for the church social, waiting for Walker to return from down the sidewalk. She thought of Cheryl and her early days of antipathy for Sunday school.

When the captain returned, he did so with a sober expression. “Jan says she received the list of workers who had tenure in 1995, and we can look at that later at the office, but, this is unreal—I called UltraTest again and pushed them a bit. They say samples from the truck with the blood drop is AB negative.”

Todd's look told Julie that he would agree with her suspicions that this abductor and the tormentor who'd driven her off the road were, in fact, the same person.

Walker headed for his squad car. “But kids, here's the capper. Sergeant Worth—” He took a deep breath.

Julie knew she was in trouble from that hesitation.

“There's a gentleman at headquarters who wants to
talk to me. He's with an attorney and another fellow. This gen-tle-man”—he overenunciated each syllable as if she were hard of hearing—“happens to be a certain Barton Worth. Sound familiar?”

Her ex-husband had finally made a showing in the clusterfuck. Walker signaled for Julie to step closer to his vehicle. “In my office as soon as we get back, understood?”

Julie held up her hand for him to hear her. “I've left a number of messages for him. Rather than call, it's so typical of him to just show up. Did he specifically ask for me or what?”

“More of an ‘or what.' His attorney is with him, and my secretary says he's pissed.” Walker shut his door and drove off.

Todd looked puzzled.

“My ex, all out of shape, just made an appearance at headquarters. Walker wants us back there ASAP.”

In the car heading to the station, Todd and Julie kept to themselves. They never shared family matters. Julie busied herself by trying to get comfortable with the assorted impediments on her service belt. “This is going to get messy, Mr. Devlin. Watch out for flying glass.”

“Is he that violent?”

“No, I am.” Julie gazed out the passenger-side window.