Vanished (2 page)

With tears still streaming down her face, Kim nodded. “Daddy, I didn't want…”

Hearing her call him Daddy tore at his fragile composure. She'd stopped using it several years ago when she'd informed him she was too big to call him Daddy. He pulled her to him for a quick hug. “Everything will
be all right, honey.” When he opened the back door, he said, “See if you can get hold of Neil at the baseball complex and have him come home.”

“Hey, maybe Ashley went to see Neil practice.” She grabbed the phone.

“Maybe. If so, I'll be next door. Lock the door after I leave.”

He waited on the patio to hear the lock click into place. J.T. hated to quench Kim's theory. But Ashley disliked anything to do with sports and didn't even like to go to her brother's baseball games. So Ashley going there didn't seem likely.

At a jog he headed toward his nearest neighbor whose view of his backyard was blocked by his six-foot wooden fence down both sides of his yard that the previous owner had erected because he had wanted some privacy. That very privacy could have made it easier for someone to come onto his property undetected.

Day one, 9:30 p.m.: Ashley missing three hours

“Kim won't come out. She refuses to eat.” Susan grabbed the pot of coffee and began to refill everyone's cups as distant thunder rumbled.

Exhausted, J.T. pushed himself to his feet, his muscles protesting the movement after the hour spent sitting at his kitchen table mapping out a strategy to find Ashley. “I'll talk to her.”

The blaring of the phone cut into the silence. Its sound jarred J.T. He whirled around, reached across the
glass table and grabbed the receiver before it rang again. “J.T. here.”

“Sir, we checked all the places you gave us and found nothing,” Deputy Derek Nelson said, frustration marking each word spoken.

All energy drained from J.T. His eyes squeezed shut for a second as he leaned against the table for support. “Go back over every square inch a second time. The church. The school. The park.”

“Yes, sir.”

J.T. slammed the phone down. “Derek reported nothing.”

“We still have four more teams who haven't called in yet.” Kirk Carver studied the map of the town and the surrounding countryside. “Maybe she wandered off and lost track of time and they'll find her.”

Lost track of time? Three hours? After dark? J.T. faced his deputy and wanted to laugh. He knew in his gut that Ashley hadn't walked away from the yard willingly. Someone had taken her. What little evidence they had pointed in that direction. He needed to be searching like his sons. “As soon as I talk with Kim, I'm going back out. All this planning isn't doing my daughter any good.”

“We need to coordinate where people look. We need—”

“I don't. You can,” J.T. interrupted his deputy. “There's got to be something—some kind of evidence that will tell us what happened, where to look.”

“We scoured your backyard before it got dark. Except for her shoe there was nothing.”

“And those footprints by the bushes.”

“We've taken a casting. There's still a possibility—”

“What possibility? That Ashley is at a friend's playing? That someone opened my back gate and innocently wandered into my yard to stand by the bushes and face the back of my house?” All his anger and frustration—held at bay while he'd focused on planning—swamped him. “Nothing about this feels like a missing person. No one has wanted to say it, but I think Ashley has been kidnapped.”

Susan gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth. “Why?”

J.T. swung his gaze toward his secretary. “If I knew that, I might know who.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyes wide, she dropped her arm limply to her side.

“Don't you think with practically the whole town out looking for the past couple of hours we'd have found Ashley by now?”

“Sir, we still need—” Kirk paused a few seconds “—to drag the lake and search the surrounding woods. Your house isn't too far from it. The two teams checking all the places around the lake haven't reported in yet.”

His deputy's statement hung heavy in the sudden silence. J.T. lowered his gaze to the tile floor, his hands clenching at his sides. “I know we'll have to drag the lake if she isn't found soon,” he finally managed to say, though his throat closed around each word.

“She could have gone to the lake. Had an accident.” Kirk downed the last of his coffee and stood.

J.T. didn't know which was worse: thinking Ashley was at the bottom of the lake or she was kidnapped. At
least if she had been taken there was a possibility she was still alive.
Is that why I'm insisting she's been kidnapped?

No, he knew the reason. The evil he had encountered in Chicago nearly destroyed him to the point he had tried to forget the ugliness by drinking. Now he felt in his gut his past had come back to haunt him.

“We'll do it first thing tomorrow morning if we haven't found her by then.” J.T. scanned his kitchen. “And we need to move the command post down to the station.”

“J.T.,” Rachel Altom, another one of his deputies, said from the doorway, “I've cataloged everything in Ashley's room and secured it. You need to go through it and determine if anything is missing.”

Only an hour ago he'd briefly checked Ashley's room to see if her favorite doll or stuffed bear was missing. Both had been on her bed in their usual place, mocking him with their presence. The rest of his survey of his daughter's belongings had been quick. He'd barely held himself together and didn't know how he was going to do a more thorough search.

“I didn't see anything earlier, but I'll do it again.” J.T. didn't say it was a waste of time. He knew in his heart his daughter hadn't run away, but this investigation needed to be by the book and he was the only one who could do the search.

“I need to talk to Kim again.” Rachel took a mug of coffee that Susan handed her. “Now that she's had time to think, I want to make sure she's positive about what Ashley was wearing.”

J.T. shook his head. “I'll do it. But unless Ashley changed after school, what Kim told you was right.” He
remembered his oldest daughter fleeing to her room an hour ago, refusing to talk to anyone. The longer Ashley was gone the more silent Kim had become.

J.T. plodded across the kitchen and passed Rachel at the doorway. The hallway to the bedrooms lay before him. The sight of Kim's and Ashley's closed doors tightened his chest, making breathing difficult. As he approached Kim's room, he drew in one shallow breath after another but nothing alleviated the pressure. It felt as if his heart had broken into hundreds of pieces.

For the first time in years, since his time in Chicago, he wanted a drink. He wanted to drown his pain in a bottle of alcohol, to forget that evil existed. His hand shook as he reached for the handle.

Lord, I can't go back to that kind of life. Help me! Bring Ashley home safely.

He knocked softly on Kim's door, then pushed it open. Kim sat trancelike in front of her small TV set, listening to the Amber Alert broadcasted over the Central City television station. He moved closer as his daughter rewound the tape and began to play it again. He touched her shoulder and leaned forward to switch off the TV.

“Kim—”

“Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” She spun toward him and threw her arms around his waist.

Although she buried her face against him, he heard her sobs and the tightness in his chest expanded. Stroking her hair, J.T. fought to keep his own tears under control. For the past few hours they were ever present, a huge lump in his throat.

He swallowed several times. “Honey, you're
not
at fault.” He managed to kneel next to her and cup her face, forcing his daughter to look at him. “Do you hear me? You didn't do anything wrong.”

“You paid me to look after her, not talk on the phone. I told her to go out back and play. If she hadn't, she would—”

He pressed his fingers over her lips. “Shh. Ashley played out back all the time, often by herself. You had no idea this would happen to her.” He regretted his admonition of Kim earlier, but there was no way he could take it back. His words uttered in frustration would be with both of them for a long time. He knew what guilt could do to a person. He'd dealt with it six years ago with his drinking and his wife's death.

“What if she ran away because of me?”

If only that was the extent of it.
Another deep breath to fill his oxygen deprived lungs and J.T. said, “Let's not play what-ifs. It won't help Ashley, and it won't help you. Now, I need you to go over one more time what Ashley was wearing when she went outside to play.”

She closed her eyes, a tear leaking out. “I told Rachel what she was wearing.”

“Tell me again.” He pushed her bangs from her eyes. He hated adding to Kim's pain by interrogating her. But it had to be done.

“She had on her blue jeans with the butterflies around the hem and her pale pink T-shirt and no jacket because it was warm.” Kim came to a shaky stop, blinking rapidly. “Do you think she's cold? It still gets cold at night in May, Daddy.”

He ignored her question because he didn't have a good answer. Instead he asked, “Which pair of shoes was she wearing?”

“Her black patent leather ones. That's all she wears anymore. I caught her one night sleeping—” Kim brought her hand up to cover her mouth and her tears returned to flow down her cheeks. “But now she's missing one,” she mumbled through her fingers.

He couldn't hold his own sorrow back any longer. His tears left a wet track as they slid down his face. Hugging his oldest daughter to him, he cherished the feel of her in his arms.
At least Kim is safe.
She had been inside the house alone with the back door unlocked.
What if whoever had taken—Don't play the what-if game.

Except for the murder almost a year ago, Crystal Springs was a safe Illinois town. People left their doors unlocked. Kidnappings didn't occur here. Not a lot happened here, and that was one of the reasons he had brought his family back to his hometown after he'd pulled his life out of the gutter.

Kim jerked away and shot to her feet. “I've got to do something to help. I want to search like Neil is. Please, Daddy.”

His son had accompanied Reverend Colin Fitzpatrick and a couple of men from the church while they searched the area around Faith Community Church and the lakeshore near it. He hadn't let Kim go with them, partly because she was the last person to see Ashley and needed to be interviewed and partly because he wanted to keep her as close to him as possible. He could have lost her today, too.

“No.”

“But I need—”

He planted his hands on his jean-clad thighs and shoved himself to his feet. “I said no, Kim. It's too dark and most of the teams are finishing up.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“We'll see. I'm moving the command center to the station, and I want you to come with me.” Again he heard thunder in the distance and realized another storm system was moving into the area.

She opened her mouth to say something, decided not to and snapped it closed. After snatching up her jacket on the back of her desk chair, she stalked out into the hallway.

With a heavy sigh, J.T. followed his daughter toward the foyer. The doorbell rang. Kim rushed forward to answer it before he could stop her.

Standing in the entrance to his house was Madison Spencer. The sight of her in her FBI jacket thrust him back to the previous May when murder had come to Crystal Springs. The implication of her presence in town underscored the gravity of the situation and nearly destroyed all the control he had mustered.

Day one, 10:00 p.m.: Ashley missing three and a half hours

“M
adison,” J.T. whispered in his entry hall, his voice a weak thread. Seeing the FBI agent jacket cemented in his mind that his daughter wasn't likely to waltz into his house, wanting to eat dinner, anytime soon.

Madison stepped through the doorway. “I'm sorry we're meeting again under lousy circumstances.”

Kim looked from Madison to him then back to the agent, her gaze glued to the yellow letters on the navy-blue jacket. “Dad?”

J.T. shook his head at Madison, hoping his brief expression transmitted the need to be careful with what was said. “Honey, the FBI is routinely called in when a child's missing.”

But as usual his daughter was smart and observant. “Ashley isn't just missing. Someone took her.” Kim's voice and lower lip quivered.

Although it wasn't a question, J.T. answered, “We
don't know for sure—” he stalled, wishing more than anything he didn't have to say the next part of the sentence “—but yes, I think she has been kidnapped.”

His daughter bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling. Tears glistened again in her eyes. “Why? Who? We don't have much money.”

No words came to mind as he stared at the pain in Kim's expression. Her observation about their financial situation made the fear he'd kept suppressed in order to function effectively bubble to the surface. Financial gain could be handled. The other reasons a child was kidnapped were so much harder as a cop and a parent to deal with. He shuddered. He realized his daughter needed some kind of answer, but he didn't know anything to say that would make the situation better for Kim.

Thankfully Madison stepped forward. “That's what we're going to determine.” She steered his daughter toward the couch in the living room. “I can't believe how much you've grown since last summer.”

Alone in the foyer, J.T. dropped his head and stared at the ceramic tile. Visions of those other reasons swam around in his numb mind: someone who thrived on sexual exploitation, a person from his past while he was a detective in Chicago, or human traffickers. Another shudder passed through him.

Lord, please bring Ashley home. Protect her. I'm begging You. Help me! I can't lose her. Where do I begin?

The sound of Kim and Madison talking in lowered voices drew him forward. If he was going to do a thorough job of finding his daughter, he had to shut down
the thoughts that kept popping into his head. He couldn't waste any more time on them.

“But there hasn't been a ransom demand,” Kim said as J.T. entered the room. “There hasn't, has there, Daddy?”

His daughter's big blue gaze fixed upon him chipped away at the composure he had just shored up. “No. Nothing.” He instilled strength into his voice, a strength he had to maintain.

“Then, see, she's probably just missing.”

“That's a possibility, Kim, but we're covering all the bases until we know something for sure.” Madison looked toward the kitchen. “I smell coffee, and I've been driving for a couple of hours. I could use a cup. Do you think you could get me one, Kim?”

“I guess so.” His daughter pushed to her feet and trudged across the room, her shoulders hunched.

When she was gone, J.T. came closer to Madison and sat in the chair next to the couch. For some reason her presence helped him feel as though he wasn't totally alone in this. They had worked well last year on the murder case and she was very good at her job. That thought comforted him. “So you left the state police to join the FBI. Where's the rest of the team?”

“They're coming. Probably twenty minutes behind me. I think I broke a few speed limits getting here.” She tossed a wry half grin then sobered. “I know what you must—”

“Who's the agent in charge?” He couldn't take her pity and sympathy at the moment. He wasn't
that
strong.

“Matthew Hendricks. He's good at finding people. That's why the Chicago office is handling this instead of the small one in Central City.”

Susan came into the living room with a mug. “I talked Kim into eating the ham sandwich I had for her earlier.” She handed the coffee to Madison. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks.” Madison sipped her coffee. “This is just what I needed.”

“J.T., we've almost got everything packed up to move down to the station. We should be ready to leave in a few minutes.” His secretary started back toward the kitchen. “Glad you're here, Madison.”

Madison flipped open her cell phone. “I'll call Matthew and let him know to meet us at the sheriff's office on Lake Shore Drive.”

While J.T. listened to her talk to the agent in charge, a restless energy hummed through him. He shot to his feet and began to pace. When she finished her call, he stopped in front of her, hands stuffed into his pants' pockets. He remembered her efficiency and professionalism and was glad to see a familiar face.

She took several more sips of her coffee, then placed it on the coaster on the table in front of her. “Okay. That should keep me going. Show me where Ashley was last seen.”

“Kim saw her on the swing last, probably right before she was—kidnapped.” The word stuck in his throat. Thinking about that shook him to his core. He could have lost both daughters today. Kim had been so close—an unlocked door away. He couldn't get that realization out of his mind.

“What time was that?”

“Kim saw her at about five-thirty. I came home at six-
thirty.” He recited the facts he'd learned earlier from his daughter as though this was just another case. If he let his emotions rule him, he would fall apart. He couldn't afford that. Not when Ashley's life depended on him keeping a level head.

“So she disappeared some time between five-thirty and six-thirty. We can start building a time frame.”

J.T. headed for the front door. “Let's go around to the back this way. If Susan has finally managed to get Kim to eat something, I don't want us to interfere by going through the kitchen.”

Madison stepped out onto the small porch first. “Any evidence at the scene?”

“We found one of Ashley's shoes in the grass under a swing.” When he followed her, he saw a news crew from Central City setting up in the street behind the barricade his deputies had erected to keep people away from the scene. He had been to hundreds of crime scenes in his career as a law enforcement officer, but never at his own home.

“A tennis shoe? They don't come off easily.” Madison strode toward the wooden gate at the side of the house and pushed aside the yellow tape slashed across it.

“No, a slip-on, so in a struggle it could have come off.”

“But Kim didn't hear anything?”

“No. She said she checked on Ashley when she first went outside to play, then she moved back to the couch across the room to talk on the phone.”

Madison stared into space, a good minute of silence passing. “Still, if there had been much of a struggle, she should have heard something.”

“I particularly asked Kim about that. There wasn't anything unusual. All she heard was a dog barking two houses down.”

“Which way.”

J.T. pointed east. “That way. The Morgans. They have an American Eskimo.”

“Maybe the abductor came that way and stirred up the dog. I'll check on that when I interview them.”

“I already did. Or rather, I discovered neither Jill nor Ross Morgan were home at that time. Some of the people on the street work in Central City and hadn't gotten home yet.”

“Convenient time to take someone.”

He massaged the taut muscles in his neck. “Yes, my thinking exactly.”

“Do you mind if I interview Kim later? Maybe she'll remember something she's forgotten in the trauma of finding out her sister is missing.”

“Sure. I know the drill. We'll do anything to bring Ashley back.”

“Has the scene been processed?” She hung back, not going more than a few feet inside the gate.

J.T. came up behind her. “Yes, the crime scene unit from Central City finished about an hour ago.”

“That was fast.”

“I know the police chief, and I wanted them to start when they at least had some daylight. There wasn't much we found except the shoe and a set of footprints behind there.” He indicated the group of trees and bushes along the chain-link fence at the back of the yard. “Most of the area is grassy except for a small spot.”

“What size?”

“Cowboy boots, size ten. It rained enough earlier today that it would have washed away any previous prints.”

“Did you take a casting?”

He nodded, then realized she couldn't see his answer because she was facing away from him, surveying the yard. “Yes. Ashley had a fort in the bushes. She played there a lot. In fact, when I first came out that was where I thought she was hiding.” He gestured toward the largest one that served as Ashley's fort, then toward a chain-link gate not five feet away from it. “There are two ways into the yard.”

“So if someone took Ashley, he probably used the back one.”

“That's what I'd do. Less chance of being seen since the woods are directly behind my property.” A few raindrops spattered him. “Great, more rain.”

“Which doesn't help.” Madison held her hand out flat as if gauging the intensity of the rain.

J.T. took a step toward the gate. “We fingerprinted the swing set and anything else we could.”

“Both gate handles?”

“Yes,” he answered in a tight voice as she walked past him. “I know my job. My deputies know their job.”

She turned then and stared up at him. “I know, but I still need to ask. You don't want any mistakes in this case. Especially this one. You know how important the crime scene can be.” She again scanned the yard. “Even with the lights on, it'll be hard to see anything tonight, especially if it starts raining harder. I'll come back tomorrow. Did your next-door neighbors see anything?”
Madison headed back around front, her short brown hair beginning to get wet.

J.T. hurried his steps. “Nothing. One wasn't even home at the time and the other one is an older lady with a hearing problem. She was watching TV on the far side of the house from four until I knocked on her door at a little before seven.”

“So you interviewed all the neighbors on your street?”

J.T. opened his front door and let Madison go into his house first. “There was only one neighbor I didn't talk to. I figured if anyone saw something it would be a neighbor, but no one did.”

“Not even an unusual car?”

He shook his head. “Not that anyone can recall. I'll get you copies of the interviews.”

“Which neighbor did you not talk to?”

The muscles in his neck ached, pain radiating from his shoulder blades down his back. He again kneaded his nape, but nothing relieved the tightness. “Mrs. Goldsmith left for Central City a little before six to do some shopping and won't be back until probably ten, according to her husband.”

“Mr. Goldsmith can't reach her on her cell?”

“She doesn't have a cell.”

“Oh.” Madison walked through the living room toward the kitchen. “We'll need to talk to her as soon as she returns. She might have seen something and not realized its importance.”

“Yeah, I told Bob that. He'll call when she comes home, which should be anytime now.”

While Madison went into the kitchen, J.T. hung back,
watching her introduce herself again to Kirk and Rachel, even though they had all worked on last year's murder case together. His daughter sat at the table, a couple of bites taken out of the ham sandwich sitting on a plate before her. Her pale features, too-shiny eyes and hunched shoulders revealed the strain the past few hours had taken on her. Unless Ashley was found soon, he knew the stress had only just begun.

“Besides canvasing the neighborhood, what other searches have been done?”

Although Madison had asked Kirk the question, J.T. moved into the room and said, “We have searched the usual places kids like to hang out and any place Ashley is familiar with. We have checked with all her friends and classmates.”

Madison turned toward him as a flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a clap of thunder, rocked the house. “How about the area behind your yard?”

With a box in his hands, Kirk skirted around Madison and headed toward the front of the house. “I'm in charge of organizing a search of that area all the way to the lake and the lake itself first thing tomorrow morning. The terrain is rough and would be difficult to search properly in the dark even with lights. We've got some firefighters and police coming from Central City to help us. We'll be using Central City's K-9 unit along with some search-and-rescue teams. They should be here an hour or so before dawn. Hopefully the rain will let up by then. That's what the weather report says.”