The Blind (9 page)

“Cool costume,” the little hobo said as he tugged at Zoe's oversized T-shirt. “Mom, can I be an FBI agent for Halloween next year?”

Zoe kissed the top of his head. “Of course.” She turned the warm smile on Jack. “What brings you back home?”

“Abby.”

Zoe settled a hand on the little hobo's head and pulled him to her side. Jack knew this wouldn't be easy for Zoe. She'd taken Abby's death hard. After the accident, Zoe wouldn't talk about Abby, and she stopped coming over, even after his mom begged Zoe to remain a part of their lives.
It's like I've lost two daughters
, his mom had said.

Jack dipped his head at Evie. “It's important.”

“Of course. Let me get the kids upstairs. My husband is getting the bathtub ready now.”

The little princess was staring at Evie. “You look like a cowgirl, not an FBI agent.”

“Don't be stupid,” her little brother said. “She has the badge. She's an FBI agent.”

The princess nibbled her bottom lip. “You're a cowgirl, right?”

Evie squatted so she was eye-level with the little girl. “I'm a cowgirl
and
an FBI agent.”

The child's eyes widened. “A girl can do that?”

Evie didn't blink. “A girl can do anything.”

The princess smiled smugly, stuck her tongue out at her brother, and spun on her sparkly slippers. For the first time that day, Evie grinned.

It didn't last long as Zoe returned to the living room without the kids. She swept the blankets and blocks and scattered Cheerios from the sofa. With her hand at the small of her back, she lowered herself onto a rocking chair. “We have about twenty minutes before they're done.”

Evie took a seat on the sofa. “Did Abby have any friends who considered themselves artists? Particularly any who painted portraits?”

“There wasn't a big art crowd at school, and I don't remember Abby talking about anyone like that.”

“Did she ever sit for a portrait?”

“She liked to be behind the canvas, not on it.”

“Did she ever complain about anyone watching her, maybe even stalking her?”

“Never. This is a small town. Everyone pretty much knows everyone's business.”

“You were at the river the day of the accident searching with the volunteers, correct?”

Zoe rested her hands on the top of her belly and rubbed, long slow strokes. She nodded.

“I know that was a tough day for you, Zoe.” Evie leaned toward the other woman. “But I need you to think hard. When you were searching the riverbanks for Abby's body, did you ever see anyone who didn't belong, a stranger or someone who looked out of place?”

“It was dark and cold so everyone was pretty bundled up, but no, I don't remember anyone out of the ordinary.”

Zoe finally turned to Jack. “What's going on? Why is the FBI asking about Abby after all these years?”

Jack locked gazes with Evie, and she gave him a quick nod. He was not a trained investigator, but he knew how to deal with people, and Zoe had been like a sister to him.

“Have you heard of the Angel Bombings?” Jack asked.

“Of course. How awful. I had to turn off the television news after the last bombing. Those photos, especially of all those children outside the library.” She shuddered. “God, they were horrible.”

“We believe Abby may have known the bomber.”

Zoe stopped stroking her belly. “What?”

“We found some artwork belonging to the bomber, and in that artwork was a portrait of Abby.”

Zoe gripped the sides of the chair. “No.”

“Yes, Zoe, and there's more. You know the sun earrings and necklace Abby always wore, the ones I gave her? She was wearing them the day she died. One of the earrings was found on one of the bombing victims.”

Her nails dug into the padded arms of the rocker.

“We're looking for a young man who was between the ages of fifteen and twenty back when Abby knew him,” Evie added. “He was socially awkward or shy. He may or may not have known Abby, but he must have watched her.”

Zoe shook her head.

“I know it's hard to think about these things,” Jack said. Upstairs the water stopped running. “But try, Zoe.”

“No, you don't know.” She stood, her hands kneading her lower back.

“The thing you need to realize about bombers,” Evie said, “is that they grow their skill set over time. Fifteen years ago when he knew Abby, he wouldn't have had the knowledge or the confidence to do what he did to the women in those bombings.”

Zoe's chin trembled. “But now he does?”

“Well yes, and we're trying to stop him before anyone else dies.”

Her body swayed. “Oh, God.”

Jack turned to Evie, but her gaze was locked on Zoe, eyes hot and sharp. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “What's going on?”

Zoe sank back into the rocker and wrapped her arms around her belly.

“What's wrong with her?” Jack asked. When neither Evie nor Zoe moved, he started for the stairs. “I'm going to go get Dan.”

Evie grabbed his arm. “No.” She pulled him to her side. “Zoe is fine. She just needs to tell us the truth, and that will be much easier if it's only us.”

“What truth?” Jack asked. Something had just happened, and while he was in the middle of it, he had no idea what was going on.

Zoe's hands knotted in the fabric of her T-shirt.

Evie looked up at him. “Your sister did not drown in the river. Someone pulled her out.”

Zoe nodded.

The words hit him as hard as the rushing river ice fifteen years ago. “Carter Vandemere?”

Evie shook her head.

Zoe finally spoke. “I did.” Then the silent sobs rocked her entire body.

Saturday, October 31
8:09 p.m.

S
it.” Evie pointed to the sagging sofa, and when Jack didn't move, she reached up, placed her hands on his broad shoulders, and pushed. The man looked like he was about to topple over. Zoe Sobeski, Abby's best friend, had just admitted that Jack's sister had survived the crash into the frozen river fifteen years ago. Zoe sat in the rocking chair, convulsing with silent sobs.

Upstairs the splashing had stopped, and giggles poured down from the steps. “Listen, Zoe,” Evie said, taking the woman by the shoulders. “I need you to get it together and tell me exactly what happened the day Abby got swept down the river.”

The pregnant woman continued to rock and sob.

“Your kids will be down in a few minutes.” She gave Zoe's shoulders a soft shake. “They don't need to see you like this.”

Zoe wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “No, they don't.” She let out a series of short, fast breaths. She cast a glance at Jack, then turned quickly. “I, uh, arrived at the river about a half hour after the crash, and like everyone else was searching the riverbank on foot, hoping to find her on the shore or, God forbid, see her through the ice. The sun was setting, and I knew we didn't have much time.” The woman squeezed her hands so tightly her fingertips turned purple.

Evie unknotted Zoe's hands and placed them on her stomach. “What happened?”

Zoe flattened her palms on the bulge. “Everyone was on the main river, which seemed odd to me. Abby never went with the flow.” A shaky laugh tumbled from her pale lips. “Abby always did her own thing. So I started down a side creek. Lots of snow and rocks, but the water wasn't as deep, so there was less ice. I started running, chasing the sun, which was going down, and that's when I saw her. Stretched out on the bank. Yellow jeans, green jacket, white boots.”

Jack didn't move but for the blood draining from his face. Evie tried to catch his eye, but he was totally focused on his sister's childhood friend.

“And when you found her?” Evie prompted.

“I took her into my arms. She was so cold and still. I couldn't see her chest moving. I felt for a pulse and found one, just barely.”

“She was dead,” Jack said. “I saw her die.”

Zoe nodded so quickly, tears fell from her eyes. “She did die, Jackie. She told me all about it. About her lungs that felt like they were imploding, the world fading to black, and you refusing to let go of her necklace. Then she told me about the light, a brilliant golden light at the end of a tunnel with gold bricks, but when she got to the tunnel, she said she couldn't get through, that she pounded on those bricks until her hands were bloody. And finally, she stopped fighting. Abby said the next thing she remembered was me grabbing her around the chest and pulling her up the riverbank.”

Evie watched for Jack to crack, to explode and shatter. He swallowed twice. “Are you telling me Abby was alive and you never said anything to anyone?”

Zoe pushed aside Evie. “Yes, Jack, I said something. I said one word.
Yes
.” That single word was wrapped in steel. “I got Abby back to my car, and it was clear she was going to live. She was smiling and talking about the light. Jack, she looked so happy, I mean ecstatic. She said she wanted to go to the light.”

Jack's hands balled into fists. “You helped her die?”

“No, Jack. I helped her
live
.” Zoe heaved herself out of the rocker, her stomach throwing her off balance as she waved a hand at the picture window where sleet slashed at the glass pane. “She wanted out of this place, and for the past year she'd been planning on going to L.A.”

“Los Angeles?” Evie asked because Jack looked like he'd just taken a blow to his jaw.

Zoe nodded. “Abby had talked about moving to California for years, living and working in a place where the sun shone three hundred days a year, where there was no snow and sleet and steel mill dust. It wasn't just a dream. She made plans. She was saving money and found this place in downtown L.A. where a bunch of artists stayed in an old warehouse. She said it was a dive, but cheap. A week before the accident, I loaned her the rest of the money for a bus ticket.”

Jack found his voice. “She was only sixteen. She hadn't even graduated high school.”

“Like that was important to her,” Zoe said with a snap. “Come on, Jack. You knew Abby better than anyone. When she wasn't down, she thought she could take on the world.”

“But she wanted Los Angeles?” Evie had to keep this on track.

“Yes. So after I pulled her from the riverbank, she begged me to help her escape.” Zoe crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Jack. “She knew you would never let her go. God, Jack, you were her brother, father, and bodyguard all rolled into one. She said if she stayed in this place any longer, she'd die. She didn't use the word suicide, but she was talking about getting out of this place one way or another.” Zoe took a deep breath. “I gave her clothes and drove her to the bus station in Pittsburgh and that night watched the bus take off.”

Color crept back into Jack's face. A raging red. “You let my mother, a woman who loved you like her own child, think Abby was dead!”

“I made a promise to a friend!” Zoe's cheeks pinkened. “Abby said she loved you and your mom and would come back. She just …. she said she'd come back eventually.”

“She didn't!” Jack's voice was so loud the giggling on the floor above stopped.

“I know, Jack. I think about it every day. I loved her, too, and that's why I let her go.” Zoe's calm, steady gaze landed on Evie. “What do you need from me now?”

“Let's all be clear,” Evie said. “At no time was a young man in the picture who liked to paint and draw and may have been stalking Abby?”

Feet padded down the steps. “Never,” Zoe said softly.

Evie let out a long breath. “Which means Abby must have met Vandemere in Los Angeles.”

The tight line of Jack's mouth bent at the corners, and she could see the struggle. He wanted to say it, but he couldn't bring himself to. He was a man who didn't let go, and for more than fifteen years he'd been hefting a mountain of guilt on those broad shoulders.

She, on the other hand, tasted the words—the hope—perched on the tip of her tongue. She savored the sweetness, the fullness and richness of a time in an investigation when anything was possible. She squatted in front of him, forcing his gaze on her. “Which means…” Jack had to be the one to make the jump, but damn if she wasn't going to give him a push.

His jaw twitched. Then his lips curved into a barely there smile. “Which means my sister still may be alive.”

Sunday, November 1
12:26 a.m.

“Dammit, where are you?” Evie said under her breath.

With only the soft glow from the dimmed cabin lights, Jack watched her dig through the cupboard behind the bar in his jet. After less than twelve hours in his hometown, they were flying back to Los Angeles. He ran both hands through the sides of his hair, still damp with icy rain. It was amazing how your entire life could change in a handful of hours.

Evie swatted at the hair falling across her face and muttered another curse.

He grinned, and Evie had been the catalyst, the spark, for the monumental change. “Second shelf on the right.”

Bottles clanked until she finally pulled out a squat bottle of a twenty-five-year-old single-malt scotch. “How'd you know what I was looking for?”

“You strike me as a whiskey kind of girl.”

“I am, but right now this girl isn't the one in need of a shot.” She slammed two ice-filled tumblers on the table and poured a long stream of the amber liquid into each.

Jack lifted his glass to her. “Well done, Agent Jimenez. You have officially rocked my world.”

She settled into the captain's chair across from his. The wind and rain had tangled her hair. Mud clung to her boots. She scraped a fingernail along her jeans, and two dried Cheerios popped off. “Glad to be of service.”

Jack brought the glass to his mouth, the icy liquid burning a swath of warmth down his throat and into his gut. “She's alive. Until anyone can give me proof otherwise, Abby is alive.”

Evie set her glass aside and reached across the aisle, curving her palm over his hand. “I'm with you all the way on this one.”

He rotated his hand so her palm rested against his. Such a small hand. Dirt under two nails. But so powerful.

“I will find her,” Evie said with the same conviction she used when promising to track down and stop the Angel Bomber.

This was the woman who had no qualms about defying presidential orders and who carved a spot for herself on Parker Lord's famed team. To say she was formidable was an understatement. He laced his fingers with hers. “I appreciate the sentiment, Evie, but right now you're doing what you need to be doing.” With his free hand, he tapped the face of his watch. “It's November first. The bomber could strike at any time. You need to be pouring your heart into finding Carter Vandemere.”

“It's a good thing I have a big heart.”

Agreed. She poured it into her work and wore it on her sleeve.

She scooted to the edge of her chair, her knees brushing his. “I also have a big team of incredibly talented people, including Agent Jon MacGregor. He is the best missing and endangered person finder in the world. He's on his way to L.A. and will meet with us in the morning.”

He shouldn't be surprised. Evie, who knew only one speed, was charging ahead. He brought their clasped hands to his lips and whispered against the intertwined flesh, “Thank you.”