She waited until they were back in Gideon’s car before turning to him. “Where to next? If she still had the locket when she arrived that morning, it’s likely that she was still wearing it when she got on the bus. She probably didn’t hock it here in Redding.”
“Probably not.” He started the car. “We’re going to see Mr. Gale Danton.”
“I thought as much. He might be able to tell us where she came from. Or at least where she was when he found her. That could dramatically reduce your search area for Eden.”
He nodded. “Yes to all that. But he’ll also know where she settled after arriving in Portland.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Eileen borrowed money from him. She wouldn’t have been able to rest until she’d paid it back. He would have received some communication from her, even if it was a money order or wired money.”
Daisy didn’t want to point out that he hadn’t seen Eileen in seventeen years and that people did change. Talking to this guy was worth a shot and she could get behind it. “Money orders or wires we can trace. Excellent. Who are you calling?” she added when he punched a screen on his cell phone.
“My boss.” He put the phone to his ear and waited, clearly not wanting her to hear the whole conversation.
Daisy couldn’t begrudge this, given how upset she’d been at overhearing his last conversation with the woman. Oh, Trish, I’m so sorry. Marked like that. Tortured like that. She scooped Brutus from her bag and cuddled her under her chin. Turning to look out the window, she tried not to cry again, focusing instead on a man striding to a beige car parked at the far end of the lot.
He’d been one of the people to buy a bus ticket while they waited for the man behind the glass to find the record of Eileen’s bus ticket purchase. Idly she wondered why he was leaving again. Maybe he forgot something in his car.
“It’s Reynolds.”
Gideon’s voice brought her back and she turned from the window to watch his profile. This had been devastating for him, too. Seeing Trish. Wondering if his friend had undergone the same fate. Finding out she’d been battered and bruised when she’d arrived at the bus station.
“Yes,” he said into the phone. “Thank you for vouching for me. He gave us some useful information.” He told his boss what they’d learned. “Can you run a check on Gale Danton of Macdoel?” He listened for a few seconds. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Ending the call, he leaned his head against the headrest. “Macdoel had a population of 133 in the last census.”
“I know. I looked it up, too. Your boss is going to do a background check?”
He nodded. “I don’t want to walk into an ambush. Especially if you’re with me.”
Daisy reached for his hand that gripped the parking brake like it was a lifeline. “Gideon.” She kissed his knuckles. “I’m not going to ask if you’re all right because you’re clearly not. But what can I do to help you?”
“You’re doing it.” He brought her hand to his cheek and held it there. “Thank you for back there, at the ticket counter. I hope I didn’t break your fingers.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
He glanced over at her as he pulled out of the lot. “I know.”
And that was one of the nicest compliments she’d ever received.
REDDING, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 9:40 A.M.
Well, shit. At least he knew why they’d come to Redding. Searching for little Miriam, who’d insisted her name was Eileen.
I knew that locket was important. Dammit.
He’d stood behind them in line at the ticket counter for as long as he’d dared, agreeing to buy a ticket to the next stop when the man behind the Plexiglas had asked if he could help him. He hadn’t wanted to arouse suspicion.
It hadn’t been a terribly expensive fare and well worth the price to hear what Reynolds was up to. The Fed was chasing that damn locket.
Chasing me.
Reynolds had to be stopped. And if that meant Daisy died with the Fed, he’d have to make himself okay with that. But he’d avoid that if he possibly could.
He found the town of Macdoel on his map app. Excellent. There was lots of open land in between here and there—and only one road to get there. And even if there were a decent cell phone signal, it would take forever for help to arrive. If the man survived.
If not, there was a helluva lot of land to hide a body. Or two, if he had to. He’d done it before.
And no witnessing bystanders to be loose ends, except for Daisy. It was perfect.
GRASS LAKE, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 11:25 A.M.
Eileen might have come to Sacramento, but for the flip of a coin. The words kept circling in Gideon’s mind. Had she searched for him? Hoped he’d help her?
Had she escaped the nightmare of Eden only to have fallen prey to another? God. Please let her be alive somewhere. Please.
“Gideon?” Daisy’s voice broke into the turbulent stream of his thoughts.
He glanced away from the road, surprised to see a laptop resting on her knees. He hadn’t even noticed her taking it out of its case. Of course, the sight of Brutus curled up in the open collar of her coat was no surprise at all.
“Yes? What’s wrong?”
“Your phone is buzzing.”
He hadn’t noticed that, either. God. He had to get his head back in the game. He grabbed his phone from where it was charging, not taking the time to look at the caller ID. “Reynolds.”
“This is Molina.” His boss’s voice was calm on the surface, but there was an undercurrent of urgency that immediately sharpened Gideon’s focus. “I ran a check on your Mr. Gale Danton of Macdoel, California.”
“And?” he prompted when she let the answer dangle.
“He has no criminal record. He appears to be exactly as he described himself—a man whose daughter once ran away and was returned by strangers. He filed a missing-person report on his sixteen-year-old daughter nine years ago. She returned home by bus about three weeks later. She was unhurt, but had been helped by ‘kind strangers.’ That’s all the police report said.”
“Good to know. Thank you, ma’am.” He was about to end the call when she cleared her throat. “Is there more?”
“Yes. I had Agent Schumacher run a search on crime scenes where a bleached knife was found. So far she’s come up with three additional victims, bringing the total to six—seven including Miss Hart. The three she found did not have letters carved into their bodies, though. So far, they’re the earliest victims, so perhaps he hadn’t started carving them yet.”
“I see.” Gideon glanced at Daisy, who was watching him with careful eyes. She’d nearly fallen apart when he’d told her about the marks on Trish’s skin. He did not want to hurt her any further. “I’m driving right now. Is it possible for you to e-mail me the information?”
“I already did. I figured you’d be driving. I wanted to let you know that these victims were also women between the ages of twenty and thirty-five.”
“And like Trish,” he murmured. “And Eileen.” And Daisy, if she hadn’t gotten away.
“And Miss Dawson, had she not escaped,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “So far we know of seven victims, including Miss Dawson’s friend, Miss Hart. There could be more who have not been found, like Eileen. These additional three have been added to the open investigation. So far, we’ve found no reports of any women who’ve gotten away other than Miss Dawson. They came from different cities, disappearing from various places—work, home, bars. One was last seen in the park walking her dog. All were found in their homes with the bleached knife in the drainer. All lived alone. Half had letters carved into their torsos and all had a bleached knife at the crime scene, but there were no other obvious similarities between the victims.”
“Which cities?”
“So far we have Seattle, Chicago, Miami, and then some small towns like Niagara Falls, New York; Carlisle, Pennsylvania; and Ellicott City, Maryland.”
“Over how much time?”
“Five years so far. They have different body types, different hair color, different ethnicities. The bleached knife left in the dish drainer was the only commonality between all seven.”
“‘SY,’ ‘EY,’ ‘N,’ and ‘D,’” Gideon murmured.
Beside him, Daisy blinked hard. “Sydney?”
“Yes,” Molina said. “That’s what we’ve assumed.”
Gideon pulled the phone away, glancing over to find Daisy looking resolutely grim. “Do you know anyone named Sydney, Daisy?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her, then returned his attention to his boss. “We got nothing on Sydney.”
“It was too much to hope for, I suppose.” Molina sighed. “We have a multistate serial on our hands. I’m joining our field office with Seattle’s open investigation. I’d like you on the team. When can you come back?”