Vanished (8 page)

“About three years ago in a prison fight.”

“That doesn't surprise me. Underneath all that icy veneer, he was a mean one. Where is Connors?”

“He checks in with his parole officer in Chicago.”

“Just two hours away.” A nerve in J.T.'s jaw jerked. “He'll be the first person I check into.”

“Okay. Give me some more names.”

“Let me look at the list.”

She shook her head. “I want your gut feeling before you go through the names on the list. Who stands out the most in your memory?”

“Okay.” J.T. held his coffee up, his elbows on the table, and drank. “Another one is Aaron Adam Acker. I dubbed him the Triple A Man. He had a mean streak a mile wide. Explosive temper.” He snapped his fingers. “Then there is Joe Washington.” He paused for half a minute. “He liked girls—all ages.”

Madison checked the list again. “Acker is out. Has been for almost a year. He reports to his parole officer in St. Louis.”

“That's farther away, but he could get here in under half a day. How about Washington?”

“Still in prison. He started a fight and murdered an inmate so he'll be there for quite a while.”

J.T. blew out a long sigh. “Good.”

“Anyone else come to mind?”

J.T. finished the last dregs of his coffee. “No. Wait. There is another one. Bobby Johnson. I almost forgot about his threats.”

“Why? They weren't that serious?”

“No, they were.” He pressed his lips together, running his finger around the rim of his mug. Looking away, he shifted in his chair. “I went to court drunk. I'm not sure I remembered very well that time in my life. A lot of things are fuzzy.”

Drunk? Stunned by his admission, Madison couldn't think of anything to say for a long moment. An uncomfortable silence hung between them. “Then are you sure?” she asked finally, trying to recall if she had ever seen him take a drink the year before. No, never.

“Yes. His description of my slow death is memorable even through an alcoholic haze.” He pinned her beneath his intense regard. “I'm a recovering alcoholic, Madison, have been for almost six years. That time in my life isn't something I'm proud of.” He hoped he never returned to that life, but he couldn't let down his guard—ever.

She still didn't know what to think of J.T.'s confession. She couldn't afford at the moment to let it sidetrack her. Veiling her expression, Madison ran her gaze down the first page then the second until she found Bobby Johnson. “He was just paroled two months ago and he's living outside of Chicago about an hour and a half away from here.”

J.T. sucked in a gulp of air. “Then he goes up at the top with Connors. Both men are a great place to start our investigation.”

After the waitress took their breakfast plates away then refilled their mugs, Madison came around to the chair next to J.T. Her nearness threw him off-kilter for a few seconds. Her scent of apples and cinnamon vied with the aromas in the café, and all he could focus on
was the last time he had a piece of apple pie at the Fourth of July church picnic with his family.

“Now let's go through the list and prioritize the people on it.”

He heard Madison speaking as if through a long tunnel. He couldn't believe her presence suddenly had such an effect on him. She was a friend—a good friend—but that was all he could emotionally handle right now. He forced himself to concentrate on the paper in front of him.

“Mark one if we need to immediately look into them, two if we can wait a day or so and three if they're probably not a threat so we can wait until everyone else is cleared.” She spread out the sheets on the table. “I've already highlighted the people you named. Those will be first before anyone else. If you can remember their threats after all this time, then we have to take them very seriously.”

As he penciled a number by the names, his gaze trekked down the full length of each piece of paper—all six of them. He had been directly responsible for putting these people behind bars doing hard time. Maybe he should have seen this list years ago when he'd thought nothing he had done had helped stem the tide of criminals on the street. Maybe he wouldn't have started drinking.

But because of his job, Ashley was in jeopardy. Guilt pummeled him from all sides. How was he going to live with it if something happened to his daughter? His wife's death had sent him completely over the edge he had been teetering on for a year with his drinking.

Six years ago he hadn't known the Lord. He wasn't alone as before.

“Rachel, put the names of the ones out on parole in bold letters so it's easy to pick them out.” Madison pointed to the first person on the list.

Although he heard her words, their meaning didn't register for an extra few seconds. All he saw was the fact there were forty-four felons out that had a grudge against him. The thought sent a shudder down his spine.

Too many. Not enough time.

“J.T.?”

He compelled himself to fasten his full attention on Madison, on the case. He was thankful she was here to help him. “Ready to go back. There's a lot to do.”

She nodded. A frown creased her forehead and worry dulled her eyes.

He rose. The sound of the chair scraping against the tile floor grated on his raw nerves. As he headed across the street to the sheriff's office, all he could think about was: too many felons, not enough time.

Day two, 11:30 a.m.: Ashley missing forty-one hours

“Someone brought homemade sugar cookies and put them in the break room.” Susan stopped by the table where Madison worked at one end and Kim at the other, answering phones and logging the calls.

Kim perked up. “Mrs. Goldsmith's?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“She makes the best ones I've ever had.” Kim stood. “When she makes a batch, she always shares some with us. Ashley loves…” A thickness rose in the teenager's voice, a sheen glazed her eyes.

“I could sure use a few right about now.” Madison pushed back from the computer she had been sitting in front of for the past few hours. “I think my eyes have crossed.” She made a face as though her eyes really had.

A smile leaked into Kim's sad expression. “I'll get you a couple. There's some soft drinks. Do you want one?”

Madison held up her mug, half full of lukewarm black coffee. “I'll stick with this. Thanks.”

Susan's gaze followed Kim's progress toward the break room. “Do you think she should be here?” She swung her attention back to Madison. “Don't get me wrong. I have appreciated the help with the phones. They have been ringing off the walls, and with all that needs to be done she's been a big help, but she's really taking this hard.”

Madison came to her feet to stretch and work the kinks out of her muscles produced from sitting in the same hard chair for hours. “As to be expected. She needs to help. This seemed the best way. We're here if she needs help dealing. More importantly J.T. is.” She looked toward the break room. “Hopefully when they return to their house tonight, things will be better. Being away from familiar surroundings can add to the stress for everyone involved.”

“Not just Kim?”

“No, J.T., too. He's been camped here since the kidnapping. I think spending some time at his home with his family will be good for him.”

“Among familiar surroundings?”

“Yes.” Madison twisted from side to side.

“Won't that spark memories of Ashley that would make it harder for him?”

The quick stretches eased the aches enough for Madi
son to sit again. “Maybe. I'm no psychologist, but I think it will help in the long run for the whole family.” Peering beyond the older woman, Madison glimpsed Kim emerging from the break room with a paper plate full of cookies and a soft drink. “Thanks, Susan, for letting us know about these.”

“I'm going to go across the street to the café to get some food in an hour. I'm taking orders. Do you want anything?”

“Why don't you bring a turkey sandwich for me and one for J.T.? Knowing him, he'll probably not take the time to eat lunch.”

“Will do.”

Kim placed cookies in the middle of the table. “I already had one. They're great!”

Susan shuffled toward Rachel and an FBI colleague, Paul Kendall, both situated before another computer working on the list of criminals. With a quick scan around the large room, Madison noted the price this abduction had exacted from the various members of J.T.'s team. Tired lines aged Susan's face and worry painted her complexion a pasty white. Dark smudges circled Rachel's eyes, dulled to a lackluster brown. None of Derek's usual cockiness was evident now and Kirk ran on cup after cup of coffee, which made his movements jerky.

Madison glanced down at her own hands poised over the keyboard. Their slight tremor brought a smile to her lips. Obviously not just J.T.'s team was affected. Hours ago coffee probably replaced the blood coursing through her veins.

Before getting back to her task of checking the criminal list, Madison grabbed a cookie off the paper plate
and took a bite. The delicious sweetness melted in her mouth. She finished that one and got another.

“I probably should warn you that Mrs. Goldsmith's cookies are addicting.” Kim snagged one for herself as the phone rang.

While the teenager answered it, Madison munched and thought about what J.T. had revealed this morning over breakfast. He was a recovering alcoholic. Having witnessed his strong personality and control, she was surprised by his revelation. As she finished a third cookie, she again surveyed the people in the room. What were they hiding? The realization that others often hid behind a mask like a clown strengthened her earlier idea. She still couldn't rid her mind of the thought the kidnapper could be someone J.T. knew.

When J.T. emerged from his office with Matthew, he came over to Madison. “I just got off the phone with the lab in Central City. There weren't any useful leads derived from Ashley's clothing. The poison used on the Morgan's dog was boric acid.”

“Is it common?”

“It can be found in a medicine cabinet as an antiseptic. I'll have Derek do some checking around to see if any has been purchased lately, but if the kidnapper poisoned the Morgans' dog, you can bet he didn't buy it nearby.”

“If the kidnapper took Ashley out by the gravel road, he had to go right by the Morgans' yard.”

“Buddy liked to bark at anyone who came around his place. It often drove the neighbors crazy.” J.T. sat on the corner of the desk, folded his arms over his chest. “So
the dog was probably barking at the exact time of the abduction which means six o'clock.”

Madison walked to the dry erase board and wrote the dog's poisoning on it as well as when it was barking. She noticed the metallic blue car that Mrs. Goldsmith had seen pulling out of the side street near the gravel road had been at five-forty. The timeframe didn't quite jell, but it was still a lead that needed to be tracked down. “Now if only we could find this car and who was driving it.”

“Since one that fits the description has been reported missing in Central City, it might turn up soon.”

“Or it's being sold for spare parts as we speak.”

 

Inky blackness pressed in on Ashley. Her body curled into a tight ball, she huddled under the itchy blanket on the cot. Warmth evaded her. A chill that always hung in the air caused her teeth to chatter.

Where was Daddy? Why hadn't he come?

She didn't like the bad man. She'd tried to be good so he would leave the light on, but he always turned it off after she'd eaten. She wanted to tell him she would be good, but she never saw him. The last time when a peanut butter and jelly sandwich had been delivered, she'd shouted the words near the doggy door, hoping he would hear her, right after she had started eating her food. He'd switched off the light a couple of seconds later.

With the sandwich clutched in her hand, she'd stumbled down the stairs and missed the bottom one. The pain in her ankle still hurt. Ashley rubbed it. Tears filled her eyes.

Hunger pangs competed with her throbbing ankle for her attention. The bad man had been gone a long time. What if he had left?

For a moment relief at the thought that he might be gone pushed her to a sitting position. Then fear of being left alone forever drove all joy from her. Tears slid down her face and fell onto her lap.

“Daddy, where are you?”

Day two, 1:00 p.m.: Ashley missing forty-two and a half hours

“Dad, Kim and I are going with Emma and Colin to put up posters in Central City.”

J.T. lifted his head and stared at his son in the doorway into his office. “I thought Kim wanted to help down here?”

Neil gestured toward his sister. “I don't think she counted on it being so hard on her. She wouldn't say anything to you, but she's getting more withdrawn as the day passes. She's not even answering the phone anymore. She's sitting in the break room, staring at the floor.”