Chris explained the significance of the Twinkies, and Michael felt acid burn in the back of his throat. There was no doubt who had Jamie now.
In the hands of a fucking-psycho-freak.
Where were they?
How were they going to find them? Hove and Spencer didn’t have any leads pointing them to the tattooed man. Ghostman. That was a better name. The guy had been invisible for twenty years, silently tormenting the families of his victims.
Michael’s phone vibrated. Detective Callahan. Crap. He’d forgotten to call Callahan back after his surprise meeting with Chris. Maybe the detective had good news?
“Callahan. You got some information, I hope?”
“Did you find Chris Jacobs?”
Michael studied his brother. He was sitting on the porch with Brian’s head in his lap, the boy half asleep. “Yes, and I found a hell of a lot more than that.”
Michael shared Chris’s story.
Callahan was stunned into a full five seconds of silence. “Where’s the real Jacobs kid?” he finally asked.
“Dead. Daniel buried him. But Daniel goes by Chris now. It’s his name.”
It was getting easier for Michael to say. He was starting to think of his brother as Chris.
“Well, we’ve got an ID on one of the pit bodies who was a former employee of your father’s. Katy Darby worked on a few of your father’s reelection campaigns before she vanished. She doesn’t fit the profile of the other victims. She seems to be squeaky clean.”
Katy Darby?
“I remember the name,” Michael said slowly, brain spinning. “I remember when she disappeared. My parents were pretty upset. They’d both liked her. I can remember my mother saying she was a very enthusiastic worker. I don’t think anyone ever thought about her disappearance in conjunction with my brother.”
“She’s connected now. Looks like the same perpetrator who killed her killed those kids. That makes a double connection to your father.”
“Chris said the Ghostman always threatened our family. He says he didn’t harass the other kids in that way. Only him.”
“Ghostman? You mean Mr. Tattoo?” Mason asked.
“Yep. That’s what the kids called him.”
“Formerly Gary Hinkes. We’ve got to figure out what name he’s using now and what his connection is to your family.”
“Christ. You don’t think this is about The Senator’s politics, do you? Don’t tell me all these people have died because of the way he voted on a bill.” Anger ricocheted through Michael’s chest.
“I don’t know why he has a hard-on for your family. I need to talk to your father again.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I was going to call him in the morning. You want to try reaching him tonight? We need to pull him in on this ASAP,” said Mason.
“I’ll call immediately. We need to figure out who the Ghostman is.”
Michael ended the call, and Chris met his gaze. “It’s linked to the senator?”
“I fucking hope not. But one of the bodies in the pit is a former campaign worker.”
Both men turned as Hove jogged up the walk. “Got a sighting. He was headed west on Highway 22 about an hour ago. One of my troopers says he had the tattooed wrists we mentioned in the APB.” Hove’s eyes were bright. “We pulled him over for talking on his cell. He gave a fake ID. Well, he gave a legitimate ID, but now we know that it wasn’t him. And the car is a rental. We’ve got the plates, and we’re keeping an eye out for it.”
Michael scanned a mental map of the state. Highway 22 crossed the Cascade Mountain Range and ended up in Salem. If he was going to Portland, the killer would have most likely taken a different highway pass. “Was he alone in the car? Was there a woman with him? He’s not going back to Portland. I wonder why he’s going to Salem? Did you pass this on to Callahan?” A million questions swirled in his head.
“Yes, he was alone, and I’m about to call Callahan.”
“Fuck. Where’s Jamie?”
“We’ll find her.”
Michael looked at Chris. “I’m heading to Salem. You coming?”
“You couldn’t stop me. She’s my sister.”