“Your boss didn’t.”
“A couple of the other girls were talking. They’re afraid, too. They also thought the woman in the picture—the new picture, I mean—was Wendy. The other picture was really generic, and like I said the other day, it could’ve been anyone. Besides, I had no reason to think Wendy was even in town.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s so sad! We thought she was in New York taking a few days’ break and having a wonderful time. Wendy...wasn’t like the rest of us. She was a really good person.”
“You’re just making a living here—not stealing, cheating or hurting people. There’s no reason not to think you’re a good person yourself,” Aidan told her.
She smiled. “So far, I think I’m okay. But...well, the life. It can lead to drug use and sometimes addiction, and then...whatever it takes to feed the addiction. I’ve seen it before. But Wendy—Wendy just worked and smiled and was nice to everyone. She didn’t even drink.”
“Debbie, did someone here threaten you? Why were you so frightened when I talked to you on the phone?”
“I don’t even really know. Although I didn’t mean to hang up on you—and scare you. Forgive me. I’m sure the officers you sent out had better things to do. What happened is that my cell battery died. I’m sorry. I guess I panicked and that’s why I called. It was horrible, what was done to her! And I suddenly looked around and wondered who might have done such a thing. Could it be someone here?” She looked nothing like the wicked vamp who had graced the stage moments ago.
“I have another question for you. I learned that Wendy has...had a son. Do you—”
“Oh, Lord!” Debbie broke in. “Her little boy! I wonder where her little boy could be!”
“A friend? A parent?” Aidan asked urgently.
Debbie shook her head. “Wendy’s husband died in a car accident and her parents were older and they’re gone and she had no sisters or brothers. She had distant cousins in Great Britain, and that’s it! If she needed to go out, she usually asked me to watch J.J.—John Jacob—for her. He’s a darling, eight years old. Agent Mahoney, that little boy is out there somewhere! Oh, my God! You don’t think he’s dead, too?”
The possibility was a horrible one. Aidan tried to reassure her. “We’ll find him. Write down Wendy’s address for me. I’ll start at her house. We’ll check with the neighbors, and—”
Debbie shook he head, even more wildly this time. “He won’t be there! He was supposed to go to New York with her! She would’ve had me watch him if he hadn’t gone with her. You have to find him!”
“What about the school? Wouldn’t the school have called?”
“She told the school they were going out of town!”
She took the paper he handed her and wrote down an address. Aidan stood and summoned Sloan, who left the man he’d been questioning and strode over. Aidan introduced him to Debbie and tersely explained that they had the identity of their second victim—and that she had a child. “We need an APB immediately, an Amber Alert—everything we can blast out. Agent Everett needs to question the Highsmith party again. We have a missing child on our hands. I’m going to go straight to the Appleby house. Can you grab one of the officers and a cruiser, and get more information from Ms. Howell here? See that she gets home safely tonight, and call me once you’ve dropped her off.”
“Sure.”
“I haven’t come up with a connection between Richard and Wendy Appleby yet,” Aidan said in a low voice. “Also...there’s another venue here for finding a missing child. Mo Deauville and her dog.”
Sloan smiled encouragingly at Debbie Howell, who was sitting with a blank stare and misty eyes. “Where the hell would she even start? There’s a lot of territory here.”
“I don’t know how she does what she does, she just does it,” Aidan responded. “And I think, with her record of success, she’s the person we need.”
Sloan wasn’t a man prone to waste a lot of time—or ask too many questions. He nodded and turned to Debbie.
“Ms. Howell, my pleasure,” he said. He had taken out his cell phone and was calling Purbeck to get the notices going. Then he nodded at Aidan.
As Aidan left, he heard Sloan ask, “Debbie, do you have a picture of J.J. on your phone? We need to get that to the media. And tell me anything else you can about him.”
Aidan was already out the door. He felt his stomach churning.
Didn’t matter how long he’d done this, how many times.
There was a little kid out there. Dead or alive.
*