A Shred of Evidence (39 page)

Chet’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You really think the FBI’s going to care why he kidnapped that girl? People are scared of Billy because he’s different. This is going to ruin him. He and Lisa will be separated, probably institutionalized. It’ll break their hearts.”

Gordy rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, we can’t sit on this.”

“I’m not going to the FBI until I talk to Billy! Maybe he’ll be home soon.”

Gordy glanced at the wedding picture of Billy and Lisa on the bookshelf. “Will’s a reasonable guy. Let me call him. He’ll make sure Billy doesn’t get hurt.”

Chet rested his head against the back of the rocker. “Billy was doing so well. He and Lisa were happy. I thought he had a future What was he thinking?”

Gordy got up and laid his hand on Chet’s shoulder. “Listen, buddy, we’ve been friends a long time. We’re gonna have to agree
on this. We can’t wait to call the police. Billy and Lisa aren’t emotionally equipped to handle this kind of pressure. They’re liable to do somethin’ foolish and really get hurt. There are
three
kids out there, and we need all the help we can get to find them.”

Will Seevers sat at his desk, thinking about his confrontation with Moira McDaniel and wondering if Bryce had gone off somewhere to nurse his bruised ego.

Every police officer, sheriff’s deputy, and FBI agent that could be spared was knocking on doors and combing the area around Old Seaport, trying to get new leads on the couple and the little girl in pink.

The report had come back on DNA found on a candy wrapper at the playground in Bougainvillea Park. It didn’t match the Hamilton girl’s. And a dozen partial prints found on the swings were inconclusive. Nothing with DNA was found around the duck pond or along the county road where the woman told police she had seen them.

Will’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Seevers.”

“Will, it’s Gordy. I hope you’re sittin’ down. The Hamilton girl’s alive, and I know who’s got her! I’ll tell you where I am, but you gotta promise me you’ll come over here with an open mind.”

Will grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. “Tell me where you are, and don’t mess with me. Our friendship can’t influence how I do my job.”

“I promise I’m not messin’ with you. But there’re extenuating circumstances you should know about before the FBI gets in the middle of this.”

“Gordy,” Will lowered his voice, “don’t put me in a position to have to charge you with impeding an investigation.”

“Hey, I’m not impedin’ anything. I think I just
solved
it. I’m at Mattie Lewis’s old place. 314 North Third Street. Last house on the block.”

“Isn’t that where … oh, no …” Will’s heart sank. “I’ll be right there.”

Will grabbed the keys to his squad car and rushed out of the building.

Gordy laid his head against the back of the couch in Billy Lewis’s living room and rested his eyes. “That’s it. You know everything I know. Call whoever you want.”

“Special Agent Moore is already on the way,” Will said. “I called him when I drove up. Mr. Lewis, can you think of any place Billy would go—a friend’s house? A favorite place?”

“Honestly, I can’t,” Chet Lewis said. “I’ve been racking my brain, but nothing comes to mind. Billy loved the park, but I doubt seriously he would’ve gone back there now.”

“We’ll check it out anyway.”

“Chief Seevers, my son is a gentle young man. His reasoning ability is equivalent to an eight-year-old’s. His heart is innocent and good …” Chet’s voice cracked. “He wouldn’t harm that little girl. I’m sure his reasons for keeping her here made sense to him. Please don’t let anyone hurt him. I’m positive he’s not armed. I can get him to turn the little girl over to you if we can just find him.”

Will looked at Gordy, his eyebrows raised. “You have any idea where he might’ve gone?”

Gordy shook his head.

“Okay, then. When Moore gets here, we’ll map out a search plan and tear this town apart. Those flyers are everywhere. That can only work in our favor. We’ll have a team here gathering evidence, so we’ll be prepared if Billy and Lisa come back.” Will turned to Chet. “Mr. Lewis, you need to call your wife. We’ll need to talk to her, too.”

Ellen Jones put a ham and cheese quiche in the oven, then turned up the volume on the six o’clock news.

“… Sources confirm that police investigators and the FBI are currently searching a residence at 314 North Third Street, where Sarah Beth Hamilton reportedly has been held.”

“Guy, you need to come in here!” Ellen hollered.

“Police Chief Seevers confirmed that investigators have recovered a pink dress and bonnet identical to those described by three local residents who reported seeing the missing child yesterday. Investigators are hopeful that DNA found on the clothing and elsewhere in the home will prove to be that of two-year-old Sarah Beth Hamilton.

“No arrests have been made, but police and FBI are searching the city for a mentally challenged couple who live in the home, twenty-one-year old Billy Lewis and his twenty-year-old wife, Lisa.

“The Lewis’s home is situated on a heavily wooded lot at the end of the block and is relatively secluded. Police and FBI have been questioning neighbors, most of whom are elderly, and so far no one on North Third Street remembers seeing the Hamilton girl.

“Investigators won’t say whether they believe the Lewises were responsible for abducting the girl or whether the couple conspired with someone else. However, authorities are hopeful that fingerprints taken from the Lewises’ home will match those found on Sarah Beth Hamilton’s bedroom window after her abduction just eight days ago.

“Chief Seevers told reporters that a huge concentration of law enforcement personnel is using every means available to search the area around Old Seaport. He feels confident that Sarah Beth will be found, and encouraged each resident to be proactive and refer to the picture of the girl on the flyers that are circulating around the city, and to call the police if you think you’ve seen her or Billy and Lisa Lewis.

“Billy Lewis is described as five-feet-eleven, two hundred pounds, dark hair and eyes, slow speech and childlike demeanor. His wife Lisa is five-feet-two, one hundred and thirty pounds, long dark hair and glasses, and a quarter-size birthmark on her right forearm.

“WRGL news will stay on top of this story and bring you breaking news as it happens.”

The TV screen became a blur, and Ellen was aware of Guy standing next to her. She turned and wrapped her arms around him, the side of her face resting on his chest. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Lord, help them find her!”

Julie Hamilton sat on the couch with Ross, holding tightly to his hand and realizing both of them were trembling.

“How’re you doing?” Special Agent Newt Clifford asked.

“I’m terrified someone’s going to get trigger happy,” Julie said.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hamilton. No one’s going to take chances with your daughter’s safety. As far as we can tell, the couple isn’t violent.”

“Will they let us know when they find them?” Ross said.

Clifford nodded. “Immediately. The search is intensive, and if they’re hiding in the area around Old Seaport, the bloodhounds will find them.”

Julie felt a wave of nausea and was glad when it subsided. She wondered if she had ever been so excited and so terrified at the same time.

Ross pulled her hand to his lips, then held it to his cheek. “You okay?”

“My heart’s racing a hundred miles an hour. And I feel like I could throw up.”

“Yeah, me too. Think we ought to pray?”

Julie looked at him and tried not to show her surprise. “Okay.” She bowed her head and kept a firm grip on Ross’s hand.

“Lord,” Ross whispered, “we’ve been far away from You the way Sarah Beth’s been far away from us. Bring Julie and me back into a right relationship with You—and please bring Sarah Beth home—”

Special Agent Clifford’s cell phone rang, and Julie jumped, her hand over her heart. She wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“This is Clifford … You’re sure …? Want me to tell them …? Okay, thanks.” He put his cell phone back in his pocket, a smile on his face. “The fingerprints on the plastic cup in the kitchen are a match. They’re definitely Sarah Beth’s.”

Gordy leaned against Will Seevers’s squad car, his arms folded, his skin tacky from the humidity. He looked up when Will came out of Billy’s house and walked over to the car.

“I thought you’d left,” Will said.

“I wanna go with you to look for Billy.”

“Sorry. It’s better if you stay out of the way.”

“He listens to me, Will. I might be able to help talk him into lettin’ the girl go.”

“If we run into problems, his parents can do that.”

“Maybe. Have you taken a close look at them? They’re devastated. They could probably use a little moral support from someone who understands and cares about their son.”

Will seemed to search his eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d hired him.”

“Billy’s a good kid trapped in a man’s body. He just needs people to give him a break.”

“Well, he may not get a break this time,” Will said. “He’s in big trouble.”

“Just keep in mind he thinks like an eight-year-old and should be judged accordingly.”

“You think I don’t know how to do my job, Gordy?”

“I never said that. Come on, let me go with you. I promise not to get in the way.”

Will rolled his eyes. “All right, get in. But you have to do exactly as I say.”

“Fair enough.”

Gordy got in on the passenger side of the squad car and fastened his seatbelt as Will backed out of Billy’s driveway. Gordy wondered if Mattie Lewis could see what was going on, and if she had any pull with the good Lord to bring this thing to a happy conclusion.

“Where are we headed?” Gordy said.

“Old Seaport. There’s a heck of a lot of ground to cover. But now that our investigators have the pink dress, those bloodhounds ought to take us where we need to go.”

G
ordy Jameson counted two dozen law enforcement vehicles from the time Will Seevers turned his squad car onto a gravel road behind the warehouse district of Old Seaport, until he pulled into a grassy field and turned off the motor.

“I’m trusting you to stay out of the way,” Will said. “This could get real intense, and I can’t worry about where you are or what you’re doing. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Bryce and tell him why you’re here.”

Will got out of the car and Gordy followed him over to where a man in khaki pants and a sport coat was talking with half a dozen guys wearing FBI shirts. The baying of bloodhounds echoed in the distance.

Will walked up to the man in the sport coat and shook his hand, then patted him on the back. “Bryce, this is a close friend of mine, Gordy Jameson. Gordy, this is Special Agent Bryce Moore.”

Gordy shook hands with Bryce, feeling as though his hand were in a vice. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Gordy’s one of Billy Lewis’ employers,” Will said.

“How long have you known Lewis?” Bryce said to Gordy.

“Since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. His parents are friends of mine. They used to play cards with me and my late wife.”

“And Lewis works for you?”