“Who’s asking?”
“I’m SA Riggs with the FBI,” I say, showing her my badge. “Do you know this woman or have you seen her?” I hold up the photo of Penny and she takes it. This is the first house I’ve stopped at where the resident has actually taken the photo from my hands. She doesn’t need to know that they’re potentially sharing the same name. I’m here to find an Amy Jones who knows my wife and is paying her storage bill. I’m trying not to get my hopes up at the way she’s studying the photo of Penny. This woman is probably just concerned that a woman is missing and that’s all.
“Does she look familiar?” I hedge.
“Yes she does, but I can’t place her.” She shakes her head, maybe clearing her thoughts. My heart falls when she hands the photo back to me. “I’m sorry.”
“But you’ve seen her?”
She bites her lower lip, seeming unsure of herself. “I don’t know. Maybe it was her, but I’ve met a lot of people recently.”
“Where do you think you’ve seen her?” I’m trying to remain calm when in reality I want to reach out and shake her.
“Like I said, I’m not sure. My fiancé and I have been doing a lot of traveling recently, trying to find a wedding venue. We’ve come across a lot of people. But the woman I’m thinking of isn’t blonde.”
“What color hair did she have?”
“Dark brown I think. Is she in trouble?”
I shake my head. “No, she’s been kidnapped and we’re trying to locate her.”
“Oh, that’s sad.”
“Yes it is. Where have you traveled recently?”
“Oh gosh,” she says, inhaling deeply. “All over New York, including upstate and Long Island, and throughout New England, too. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember exactly. My fiancé might, but he’s not home right now.”
“What time will he be home? I can come back.”
“Usually about six or seven, depending on if he catches the right train.”
“Great, thank you,” I say as I turn away and walk down her steps. I can feel her watching me, so I stare down at my clipboard and make notes even though I’m dying to call Cara and Marley. I know Cara only wants to touch base at night, but this is too important. I pull out my cell phone and hover over Cara’s name, but at the last second press Marley’s number. She’ll be able to find out where this Amy Jones has recently visited.
“Marley Johnson,” she answers on the third ring, much to my relief.
“This is McCoy.” I keep my voice down because Amy Jones is still standing in her doorway watching me.
“How’s the East Coast weather?”
“Great. The ninth address on the list knows something. She says Penny looks familiar but can’t place her, and also says she has dark hair, maybe brown. She’s been traveling recently all over New York and into New England looking for a wedding venue.”
“But she can’t tell you where?”
“No, she can’t place her.” I glance over my shoulder at Amy and smile, hoping to relieve any suspicion she’s feeling right now. Here I am standing on her sidewalk talking on my cell phone instead of in a car. I need to get moving before she decides to call the cops on me.
“Okay, give me a few hours to pull her financials.”
“Thank you, Marley.”
“Of course, Tucker. I’ll call you in a few. In the meantime, keep knocking on those doors. We’re getting close. I can feel it.”
“Hey, Marley … I just want to thank you for doing what the others couldn’t.”
“Tucker, if I didn’t try, I wouldn’t be doing my job properly. We’re going to find them and you’ll have your family back.”
Marley hangs up, leaving me speechless and torn. I have no doubt we’ll find them, but I’m not so confident that I’ll have my family back. Even though it’s what I want most in the world, I may have to accept the fact that they’ve moved on without me and I’ll be the dad Claire is forced to come see during vacations and the rare holiday.
Hard decisions will have to be made if they’ve moved on. I don’t want to disrupt their lives. I don’t want to be the dad that makes their daughter regret them because I interrupted her happiness. My feelings aren’t going to matter if she doesn’t remember me or wants nothing to do with me.
I wave to the one Amy Jones who may have changed everything for me and continue down the street until I’m about a half mile away and knocking on the next door.
“What the fuck did he do now?” the lady behind the screen door screeches.
“Ma’am, I’m SA Riggs, have you seen this woman?”
“You ain’t here for Junior?”
“Not unless he has something to do with this woman’s kidnapping.”
“Oh I’ll kill him.” She leaves the door and starts yelling down the hall. I should leave, but I’m interested in knowing who Junior is and why he’s in so much trouble with his mother.
When Junior comes to the door, I estimate that he’s about fifteen years old and maybe one hundred and ten pounds if he ate a sandwich.
“Wasn’t me,” he says as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.