Traynor nodded at the kid with the mouse, who clicked.
Another photo, another little girl, wearing a sailor top and a navy bow in her hair. She was younger than the last, her hair a darker blond, but still there was a resemblance.
“Ashley Cahill, age six, was seen getting into a car in the parking lot of a public swimming pool in Lebanon four years ago,” said Traynor.
He let it all sit for a moment.
“Gone. Never seen again. Either of them. We think,” he said, nodding to the Fed, “what we have is an MO, which is not much, but it’s similar, and there’s a physical resemblance between all the girls. That and they all took ballet classes. These two and Kylie Brandt.”
Traynor nodded at a cop by the door, who flipped on the lights. The photo of Ashley Cahill stayed on the wall behind him, overexposed, the top half of her face whited out.
“We’ve talked to every registered sex offender who fits the profile between here, Harrisburg, and Reading. Everyone ruled out aside from five we can’t locate. Agent Cartwright has people working on that.
“As you know, we have three witnesses of varying reliability, two of whom have a similar description of the suspect, which matches the image of the sender of the email we got from Kinko’s. You say you have something similar?”
Vega nodded.
“We’ll want to have a look at that afterward to line it up. You tell us—Caplan, Miss Vega—what brought you to Evan Marsh?”
Caplan looked at her and held his hand out, opening a door.
“After we received the email about Nolan Marsh we talked to his mother,” said Vega. “She didn’t have anything new as far as we could tell. I talked to Evan Marsh just to cover the base. He seemed under the influence of something—your team will find the pills in his bathroom. And your ME should look at his right wrist—I saw scratch marks there.
“We, Caplan and I, we think Evan Marsh had some opportunity to meet Kylie, even though we’re not sure where.” She paused. “We think he was the kidnapper, initially at least. His plan was to take the girls and use them to get his brother’s case revisited. Then, we think, he would’ve returned them. He wasn’t a pedophile, didn’t want to raise them as his own, just wanted his brother’s body so his mother could put on a funeral. But he obviously didn’t do this alone, and whoever helped him or worked for him got angry.
“But now, this guy, Marsh’s killer, has the girls and an unknown motive. Maybe he’s one of your five.”
The Fed, Cartwright, leaned forward.
“You talk to Marsh’s acquaintances? Co-workers? Girlfriend?” he said, no blame in his voice, just a slight southern accent.
“We didn’t get that far,” said Cap. “This is our theory as of”—he looked at his watch—“two and a half hours ago. And we’ve been tied up.”
“What about your team?” said Cartwright to Traynor. “They get anything from Marsh before he was killed?”
“Hollows?” said Traynor.
Junior sat at the opposite end of the table. He looked at something on the palm of his hand.
“Lieutenant Ralz spoke with the mother. She indicated she had no involvement.”
“Which is probably the case,” said Traynor. “What did Evan Marsh say to you?”
Hollows paused and glanced at Ralz.
“We didn’t speak with him.”
Traynor combed his mustache with his bottom lip. He turned his head halfway, in Cartwright’s direction.
“Let’s get two people to the mother’s house now to break the news and get the information while it’s fresh.” He turned back to the group at the table. “We’ll keep the team we have now at Marsh’s apartment and have them look for anything, specifically financial records and statements, get his phone and computer so we can get the tech in here. Miss Vega, Cap, you two,” he said, pointing to Junior and Ralz. “Stay two seconds with me, please. Everyone else, let’s move.”
The rest of the cops scattered and filed out the door. Vega watched Traynor and the Fed. Traynor gripped the edge of a chair and leaned down slightly. Nervous energy, she thought, but holding it together. The Fed’s face was round and red. He tapped a pen on his knee and watched the cops leave, moved his jaw like he was cleaning something out of a molar with his tongue.
The door closed, and Junior held his hands up, indignant.
“This is what we’re going on now?” he said. “This is the working lead?”
Cap laughed lightly. He’s used to it, Vega thought, this little fucker’s attitude and sycophantic bullshit that passes for work. Doesn’t make a move unless it makes things easier for him, less paper on the desk. Or, worse, he just can’t have anyone else be right first. Even cleaning five bloody, shit-stained toilets with her own T-shirt in Basic was better than working in a goddamn office with goddamn office people trying to climb a ladder, crushing knuckles along the way. Vega squeezed her hand open and shut around her pen.
Traynor shoved the chair into the table.
“Yes, Captain, it is one very viable lead seeing we’ve had an abduction and a homicide within four days’ time that appear to be related. Just so you can get a nice sleep tonight, we’ll still chase the five SOs and the father. That okay with you?”
Junior shifted in his seat.
“Yeah, Chief.”
“You sure? You sound a little depressed about it.”
Junior stopped moving, and Traynor stepped back toward the wall, crossed his arms. Vega watched him, noticed how he got relaxed as soon as Junior appeared to be getting nervous. She could see the cop in him then, could imagine him in an interrogation room firing questions out one after another before the suspect had a chance to think up a lie.
“It’s clear to me you and Miss Vega have met before, correct?”
“Yes, Chief,” said Junior.
“When was that?”
“Monday, Chief.”
“Did you discuss this case?”
“Yes, sir. She wanted to pool resources.”
“And what was your response to that proposal?”
Junior’s face contorted for a second. Sniffing bad milk.
“I told her we don’t work with civilians, Chief.”
“You said no thanks,” said Traynor.
“Yes, sir.”
“You turned down help from an experienced private investigator hired by the family.”
Junior rolled his shoulders back.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Policy, sir. We don’t work with civilians, never have.”
“And you didn’t think this case might warrant a different approach, when we’re maxed out on manpower and officers are working triple shifts?”