“Are you Jessie Cole, the investigator everyone says is making the rounds?”
Jessie squinted her eyes but still couldn’t make out a shape. The voice definitely sounded female. “That’s me,” Jessie said. “I was hoping you could tell me if you recognize the man in this picture.” She held up the photo.
“Meet me at the gate to the side yard. I’ll be right there.”
Jessie took the long way around so she wouldn’t step on the grass. The gate creaked open, and she joined the woman on the other side. The woman looked to be in her late forties, with auburn hair and a friendly face.
“I’m Gina. Let’s see what you have there.”
Jessie handed her the photo and pointed out the person in the reflection of Zee’s sunglasses.
“My husband and I try to stay out of all the drama that goes on around here,” she said as she examined the photo.
Jessie said nothing.
Gina straightened and handed the picture back. “I don’t recognize him. I’m sorry.”
“What about Zee Gatley?” Jessie asked. “Before she went missing, did you ever see her pass by?”
“I work from home, so, yes, I see her walk by fairly often. I’d be surprised if there was even one person in the neighborhood who hadn’t seen Zee walking along the street at some point or another.”
“Have you ever seen her with anyone?”
Gina considered that for a moment. “No. My windows are usually open, and I do hear her talking to herself on occasion.” She frowned. “What’s wrong with her—do you know?”
“She has schizophrenia, which has caused her to suffer from a faulty perception of reality.”
“How sad. I’ve never talked to her, but I should have at least tried.” She shifted her weight from one side to the other. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Zee isn’t the first young woman to disappear from this area.”
“Nobody has mentioned anything,” Jessie said.
“Four years ago Beth Cordell, a sixteen-year-old girl who lived two doors down, went to get the mail and was never seen again. It was all over the news. There were search parties, all the usual events that happen when a child goes missing, but she was never found, and her parents have since moved away.”
Jessie wondered why Arlo hadn’t mentioned Beth Cordell’s name. “Is there anything else you think might be helpful for me to know?”
“Afraid that’s all I’ve got. I should go now, but I do hope you find her.”
Jessie thanked her before heading out through the gate. She jogged across the street. Olivia was no longer talking to the woman with the young kids, so she continued on down the road.
The names Zee Gatley and Beth Cordell swirled about in her mind as she picked up her pace, keeping an eye out for Olivia as she went along.
Two girls on the same block had gone missing.
Shivers raced up her spine.
A car drove slowly by. An old man in the back seat stared at her. His lips were moving. He was telling the driver to stop and let him out. The car made a left at the corner and disappeared.
She felt as if she were in The Twilight Zone.
A dog barked in the distance. Where was Olivia?
She spotted an open garage. There was a man fiddling around inside. “Excuse me,” Jessie called to him. “Did you happen to see anyone walk by here in the last five to ten minutes?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Are you sure?” Jessie asked, trying not to panic. “She’s fourteen, and she has brown hair.” Jessie touched her own hair. “Darker than mine.”
“I’m sure I didn’t see anyone,” he said with a tinge of annoyance. “But I did go inside for some water, and she could have snuck by without my noticing.”
She thanked him as she walked off, looking both ways, seeing nothing. “Olivia!” she called out as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her number. Her call went directly to voice mail. “Olivia, where are you? Call me right back.”
Maybe Olivia had headed back for the car, Jessie thought as she turned around, calling her name as she went. All the emotions from the days after Sophie went missing came rushing back.
“Olivia!” she called out once again, louder this time. Before she reached the car, she spotted Olivia up ahead, exiting the same house where Jessie had seen her last.
Olivia looked her way and waved, oblivious to the turmoil Jessie was experiencing.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Jessie said when she approached, trying hard to catch her breath, angry and relieved at the same time.
“Do what?”
“I had no idea where you went.”
“I saw you slip through the side gate across the street,” Olivia said, “so when Mrs. Goodman invited me inside, I figured it would be fine.”
Jessie started walking toward her car parked at the curb. She could hear Olivia’s footsteps directly behind her on the sidewalk.
“Are you mad at me?”
Jessie stopped and turned around. “No.” She took a breath. “I was scared. It turns out that Zee might not be the only young woman who disappeared from this area.” She paused, thought about what she was feeling. “When I couldn’t find you, I panicked. It was my fault. I never should have let you out of my sight.”
“I was right by the front door the entire time. I’m not a little kid.”
“You’re right. I have a lot going on right now. Colin stopped by last night to let me know the Heartless Killer is on the prowl again. My every nerve is shot.”
Jessie opened the car door and climbed in behind the wheel.
Olivia opened the passenger door and said, “Can I drive?”
“No.”
“I’ll be fifteen soon. I need to learn to drive sooner or later.”
“No. Get in.”
Olivia shut the door and buckled her seat belt.
Neither of them said a word for the rest of the drive. Jessie’s adrenaline was still working overtime when they reached Sacramento. For a moment in time, she’d thought she might have lost Olivia. It was something she never wanted to experience again.
TWENTY-SIX
The most important part of Ben’s job as a crime reporter was spending time on the crime beat. He hung around police stations, firehouses, and medical technicians. He’d gone on countless ride-alongs and had been walked through unsolved cases with a number of homicide detectives. He knew the judicial process because of long hours spent in the courthouse. He knew what police officers and detectives dealt with on a daily basis.
Too often reporters merely wrote accounts of a crime as it occurred, using little background or depth. A good reporter needed to do his homework, which is why Ben had spent enough time with these guys to earn their respect. They knew he cared about trends and the impact crimes had on a community. And for that reason, he was granted access to things many reporters were not.
Today Ben was at the Auburn Police Department, waiting to talk to Police Lieutenant Anne Garcia. He liked Anne. She was professional and seemed to see things many people didn’t. She’d always been a good listener with a keen eye to conscious and unconscious gestures and body movements.
Lieutenant Garcia had been the first officer to arrive at the scene of Ben’s car accident ten years ago. The vehicle, a stolen 1974 Ford Pinto, had crashed head-on into a tree and exploded after veering off Highway 49 onto a secluded side road and into an area known for hiking and rock climbing. The crash occurred at one in the morning on August 18, 2007. The driver, identified as Vernon Doherty, a young man he had never heard of, was found dead at the scene, 90 percent of his body burned to a crisp.
Ben was led to a conference room, where Lieutenant Garcia was waiting for him. They shook hands, and the door was closed behind him as they sat across from each other.
“How are you doing, Ben? Busy working the Heartless Killer case?”
“Gavin is covering the case for the Tribune, but he keeps me in the loop. I heard about Natalie Bailey being taken from her bed while her husband slept. Any evidence her abduction is connected?”
Anne shook her head. “It’s too early to tell.”