Abduction (32 page)

No one sent a
child across the street to borrow a cup of sugar or to see if Johnny could come
over and play. Play dates were arranged by phone and carried out with adult
supervision.

Even the malls
were strangely void of little feet and giggles. Mothers left their children
with trusted friends while they ran to the mall.

The world had
changed.

Nora pulled
her cart up to the register and smiled at the cashier. While the cashier
scanned the groceries, Nora noticed a poster taped to the front of the nearby
ATM unit.

Missing.
Jessica Matthews. Born October 15. Brown hair. Small birthmark on cheek.

Below the
contact information was a full-page color photograph of the missing baby. Nora
stared at it, wondering how in the world this child’s mother was coping. She
couldn’t begin to imagine. She reached out and traced a finger over the
picture, something stirring in her heart.

“Sad, isn’t
it?”

Nora looked up
at the cashier with a nod. “Yes, it is. I can’t believe how bad this world has
gotten.”

“I know. When
we were kids, we roamed the streets. No one worried. There was no danger.”

“I remember.
Days of innocence.”

“Yeah.”

Nora studied
the picture again and then felt her heart lurch. She knew where she had seen
this child before!

“Do you have
an extra one of these fliers?”

The cashier
nodded. “Stack of them at the customer service desk on your way out. That’ll be
$64.83.”

Nora paid the
cashier then pushed her cart to the customer ser-vice desk. She grabbed a
couple of fliers, folded them, and shoved them in her purse.

Every time
she’d seen a picture of Jessica Matthews, something seemed familiar. But it
wasn’t until she saw the big color photo that it had come to her. She knew
where Jessica Matthews was.

Nora hurried
out of the store. She had to talk to her husband right away. Kaitlyn tossed her
plush puppy into the air and watched it land inside the grocery cart. Nora
stopped and retrieved it, handing it back to the child. “Let’s go, sweetheart.
It’s time to go home.”

#

“Paula?”

Paula looked
up from her computer to see the receptionist standing in front of her with a
huge vase of roses. At least two dozen red and pink roses. “For me?”

“That’s what
the card says.”

“Wow.” Paula
took the vase and lowered it to her desk.

“Wish someone
loved
me
that much,” the receptionist said wistfully before walking
away.

Paula pulled
the card out of its holder and opened the envelope.

Okay. I’m a
jerk. I’m sorrier than I can say. I love you. Will you marry me?

Matt

Paula felt tears spring to her eyes. “Yeah,” she
whispered softly. “But I can’t let you know that yet. You’ll have to do better
than this.”

#

Zoe stood at
the window, staring across the front yard, while behind her, her father and FBI
agent Vince Larson hooted and cheered at a football game on television.

It had been
almost three days since she’d heard from the killer. He was playing with her
and she knew it. He wanted to keep her on edge, never knowing when or where he
might strike. And it was working. Her nerves were as tight as violin strings.

She was
surprised, and perhaps a little disappointed, when the FBI descended. She had
gotten used to having JJ as her defender. Maybe he
was
a reluctant
defender, but she had begun to trust him. She should have realized that once
the FBI moved in, JJ would be shuffled to an assisting role. This was their
area of expertise. It was logical for them to head up the investigation. Still,
she missed taunting JJ and watching him do a slow burn.

Eyeing the men
who were engrossed in the game, Zoe slipped out the front door. She hadn’t been
outside in almost twenty-four hours and needed to feel the sun on her face.
Needed to feel the breeze through her hair.

Needed to
feel. . .

“Excuse me.
Miss Shefford, isn’t it?”

Zoe jumped.

“I didn’t mean
to startle you. I’m Jack Fleming. FBI. I’d like to talk to you.”

That’s when
she saw JJ climb out of the car. He appeared tired. There were dark circles
under his eyes, and his mouth was tight with fatigue. Zoe looked back at the
agent and smiled. “Of course. Come on in.”

As soon as
they came through the door, Special Agent Larson sprang to his feet, his face
white. “Sir.”

“Is this how
we protect someone, Larson? Watching football while the protectee saunters
outside in plain sight? Last time I checked, there was a direct threat against
this young lady’s life. Or has that been resolved and someone forgot to inform
me?”

“No, sir. I
mean, I’m sorry, sir. She was just standing right here.”

“No, she was
just standing out front when I got here.”

Zoe stepped forward, feeling sorry for Larson.
“I’m sorry, Agent
Fleming. This was my fault. I was feeling cooped up
and slipped out when no one was watching.”

Fleming lifted
an eyebrow in her direction. “That is entirely my point, Miss Shefford. You
slipped out while no one was watching. And watching is the only reason Agent
Larson is here.”

“Yes, sir.”
Zoe almost laughed when she realized how she’d answered him. Instead, she just
smiled. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

Fleming’s
mouth twitched. “I’m fine, thank you.” He turned to JJ. “Detective Johnson?”

JJ shook his
head as he stared at Zoe with an unfathomable expression. He could have been
staring at a brick wall for all the emotion he showed.

Zoe looked up
at Fleming. “Won’t you have a seat?” She reached out her hand to her father.
“This is my father, Keyes Shefford. Dad, this is Agent Fleming and that,” she
waved dismissively at JJ, “is Detective Johnson.”

Agent Fleming took the lead. “I’m here because I
wanted to talk to you not only about your impressions of our unsub but also—”

“I’m sorry.
Your what?”

“Unsub. Sorry.
Unknown suspect. It’s just lingo for the man we’re trying to catch.”

“Ah,” Zoe
nodded. “The serial killer.”

“Yes.” Fleming
cleared his throat. “Anyway, I wanted to discuss the possibility of you working
with us on this.”

Zoe shook her
head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t have any psychic ability to help you
anymore. I’ve renounced it. . .and it’s gone.”

Fleming looked
confused. So did JJ, but she tried to keep her eyes on Fleming. “You see, I
became a Christian recently and—”

“Oh, great.”
JJ stood up, rolling his eyes.

Zoe lifted her
chin. “I beg your pardon. Are you talking to me?”

“I thought you
were smarter than that! ‘God forgives all.’ ‘God loves.’ ‘God will send you to
hell if you don’t do it His way!’ ” He jammed one hand in his pocket and cocked
his knee as he leaned forward a little. “First you’re this superpsychic; now
you’re going to be some super-Christian. Ever think of just being yourself
instead of exchanging one phony crutch for another?”

With calm
deliberation, Zoe came to her feet. She saw her father start to open his mouth,
and she waved him to silence. “He’s mine,” she told her dad in a quiet but firm
voice.

She stepped
toward JJ, her eyes focusing in on what almost looked like fear in his eyes.
She didn’t need her old abilities to know what was tormenting him. “I don’t
need crutches and I don’t need someone to feel responsible for protecting me.
I’m not Macy, Josiah. I’m nothing like her and I never was.”

“I never said
you were! And this isn’t about Macy! You don’t know anything about her.”

“You loved her. More than anything in this life,
you loved her and someone killed her. And it tore you up because you felt you
should have protected her. You felt you had failed because you didn’t keep her
safe—because you didn’t take her fears seriously.”

“That blasted
psychic told her that no one was stalking her!” His voice trembled with rage.
“Macy threw caution to the wind after that con artist lied to her.”

They were both
heaving with anger, but neither was willing to let it go. It was time for JJ to
let it out.

“Macy threw
caution to the wind because she wanted you to think that she was as brave as
you were—that she was worthy of your love!” Zoe reached out with both hands and
shoved against his chest. He barely moved. “You never let her see your
weaknesses, so she didn’t think you had any.”

“So it’s
my
fault she was killed? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No! It was
never your fault. She built you up in her mind until you were perfect and
strong and capable and Superman. Only a very special woman would be worthy of
such a man.”

As sweat began to glisten on his forehead, JJ
yanked off his jacket and tossed it angrily to a nearby chair. It slid to the
floor. He ignored it as he narrowed in on Zoe. “I never tried to be Superman.”

“You didn’t have to try, Josiah. You
were,”
Zoe said, evening her tone. “You simply were. You worked so hard trying to
prove you were wonderful because you didn’t believe you were. You didn’t
believe your parents loved you. You didn’t believe anyone cared about you.”

JJ took a step
closer to her, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Shut. . .up.”

“Not this
time, JJ.” Zoe straightened and looked into his eyes. “Your father loves you.
He thinks you walk on water, just like Macy did. He’s so proud of you that he
brags everywhere he goes. But he can’t let you see that because he’s terrified
someone as special as you would see him as unworthy. He’s so afraid of losing
respect that it’s driven him to blustering arrogance. He hates it. You both
hate it. But you have the power to turn it around. It’s enough, Josiah.”

JJ’s glare was hot enough to make the sun
envious. He spun on his heel without another word and stormed out of the house,
slamming the door behind him. Zoe flinched. Then sighed. “Well, that was fun.”

#

Linda Foxwell
slid open the glass door and stepped onto her patio. “Pogo! Here, boy!” She
whistled loudly and then looked around for her dog. “If you’ve jumped the fence
again, I’m going to tie you to a rope!”

She stepped
out to the edge of the patio. “Pogo! Come!”

Suddenly the
black lab came sailing over the back fence from the yard behind. He bounded
toward her, tail wagging. “You are so bad! You’re not supposed to go in other
people’s yards!”

Pogo stopped a few feet away, wagging his tail
harder, then
dropped something from
his mouth. Plopping down on his haunches, he stared up at her.

“What in
heaven’s name is that?” Linda stepped closer, bent down, and looked more
closely. Then she stiffened.

And screamed.

Then fainted.

#

Patrolwoman
Rachael Carstairs and Kevin Kirkwood answered the emergency call on Nebel
Street at 3:27. At 3:29, Kirkwood notified dispatch of the need for backup and the
medical examiner’s van. He also notified Tripp in Homicide that he would be
needed at the crime scene.

Lieutenant
Tripp was, at that moment, on his way back to the station. He turned his car
around and arrived on the scene at 3:51. He found Carstairs at the curb; she
looked white, and from the smell of things, she had been sick to her stomach.
She lifted her blanched face and pointed to the backyard.

Stepping over
a red plastic Big Wheel, Tripp opened the gate to the backyard and quickly took
in the scene. Two patrolmen stood at the rear of the yard talking to the
medical examiner. A third officer was on the patio talking to a young couple. A
dog was tied up on the patio and looking extremely unhappy about it.

“Someone
called for me?”

One of the
patrolman nodded and pointed to an area on the other side of the fence. Tripp
leaned on the fence and looked over. He felt the blood rush to his feet.

It was a
corpse—or what was left of one, anyway—buried in a shallow grave.

One hand rested on his gun as the other rubbed one
of his heavy jowls. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to the
question he had to ask, but he asked anyway. “Whose property is that?”

“Matthews’.”

“That’s what I
thought.” He looked over the fence again. “I think we have probable cause to
enter the property, folks. Let’s get this done. I want this whole area taped
off back here. No one goes over this fence. We’re going in through the
Matthews’ gate.”

He returned to his car and radioed dispatch while
he drove around the block and pulled into the Matthews’ driveway. It took that
long for dispatch to patch him through to JJ. “Yeah, Johnson. I’m at the
Matthews’ house. We’ve discovered a body behind the shed in the Matthews’
backyard. Any bets it’s our missing husband?”

Vivian Amato pulled up in her van. Tripp leaned
against the
front fender while she
pulled out her evidence kit and locked the van. “This is going to be a
nightmare, Roger. I’m going to have
neighbors leaning over that fence
down there.”

Tripp shook his head. “I’m going to have them tape
off everything for at least fifty yards in every direction. You’ll have your
privacy.”

“Thanks.”

The front door
of the house opened, and a man stepped out. Tripp eyed him suspiciously.
Has
the woman replaced her husband already? Or did she already have this one in the
wings?

“What’s going
on?” the man asked.

Tripp strode
up the front walk, pulled out his badge, and held it out to Ray. “Tripp.
Homicide. Who are you?”