“Perfect.” According to Google, an appliance that heated up—the hotter the better—was best. She placed the iron on the vanity in the bathroom.
Taking care to avoid the blood on the floor as she moved back down the hall, she left her bag next to the door of the bedroom with all the computers. One by one she unhooked the hard drives and carried them to the bathroom. On the second trip she shut off the water. She sure as hell didn’t want it to get high enough to splash onto the floor. When all the hard drives were in the bathroom, she immersed each one in the tub of water, holding it down until it stayed submerged.
She needed to hurry. The smell of blood and shit was making her heave. She dried her gloved hands on her skirt, checked again to ensure there was no water on the floor or on her shoes. Then she plugged in the iron. Wait, the outlet in the bathroom would be a ground fault, too.
“Fuck.”
It took her a few minutes but she found an extension cord. She plugged it into an outlet in the hall, and then plugged the iron into it.
She took a breath. “You get one shot at this.”
Backing as far away from the tub as she dared, she turned on the iron and waited for it to heat up. A minute later when it was hot to the touch, she tossed it into the tub.
The explosion or flash of fire she’d expected didn’t happen but she wasn’t getting any closer to check and see if her plan had worked. On the way out she grabbed her purse and his cell. On second thought, she executed a quick search of the place. She moved carefully from room to room, watching where she stepped.
She found no photos or stacks of DVDs as she’d feared. Whatever he’d done, he’d kept it on his computer or he had some other storage facility.
She glanced at him once last time. “Dumb ass.”
Once she’d ensured none of the neighbors were on the landing outside, she tucked on her sunglasses and got the hell out. It wasn’t until she was on the street headed away from the scene that she made the necessary call.
Her partner was not going to be happy.
14
Doe Run Road, Macon
11:30 a.m.
Tony glanced at the woman in the passenger seat. “Don’t mention being a reporter. Just observe. If you recognize her, don’t say a word until we’re done.”
Joanna scrutinized him for a long moment. “You’re still undecided about trusting me.”
“I’m not taking chances with my niece’s life.” He reached for the door but hesitated. “Fair warning, if you’re wasting my time you will wish you’d latched onto some other player in this case.”
Still angry that the chief of police had called to warn him about crossing any lines in his jurisdiction, Tony’s options were sorely limited. He’d expected the Bureau to put up roadblocks to his involvement in the case, but he’d held out hope the chief would keep a back door open. No such luck. He climbed out of the BMW. If his suspicions were on the money Miss Hailey Martin would still be in bed. She struck him as a full-time night person, not just the occasional stay-out-late kind of gal. The Jag in the driveway was a good indication she was home.
Joanna walked around the hood and joined him. “I’m sure you have contacts you can use to confirm what I’ve told you is the truth.”
He considered her for a long moment. “You were abducted eighteen years ago. You and another freshman were missing for fourteen days. You survived, got away somehow and returned to finish the semester, and then you vanished. At some point over the years you cut your hair and went blond. You move frequently. Never been married. No long-term relationships. Your mother hasn’t seen you in nearly two decades. The only trail you leave is your work for an online newspaper. Otherwise you’re a ghost. That’s what I confirmed. That’s what I believe. Until you show me proof, that’s all I believe.”
She had refused to discuss her time in captivity. The chief’s call had interrupted the shouting match over her refusal, and then she’d given him the silent treatment on the way here. He’d decided to give it a rest for now. When the time was right, he would have his answers.
“You called my mother?” The shock on her face quickly dissolved into anger. “You shouldn’t have called my family.”
“You want me to trust you, then I need to know you’re not some nutcase off her meds.”
She set her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Fuck you, LeDoux.”
He decided not to mention that she had already or that he had done a bang-up job of fucking himself the past few months. “Just keep quiet and let me do the talking.”
When they’d climbed the steps, he crossed the porch and pressed the doorbell. The chime echoed through the house. A minute later Hailey Martin’s toned legs came into view. By the time she reached the bottom of the staircase he glimpsed a full frontal view of Martin’s naked body before she bothered to cinch the robe closed.
“Jesus.” Joanna rolled her eyes.
The door opened. Martin was all smiles; the dog on her heels eyed her unexpected guests warily. “Agent LeDoux, aren’t I the lucky one? A visit two days in a row.” She opened the door wider. “Please, come in. Did you locate Miles?”
“Actually, we hoped you might be able to help with that.”
She glanced at Joanna. “Is this your partner?”
“We’re working together on this case,” Joanna said before Tony could. She thrust out her hand. “Carrie Cole.”
The lie slid right off her tongue without the slightest hesitation. She’s almost as good as you, Tony.
“As you know,” Tony moved on, “we have two missing freshmen from Georgia College. You appear to be one of the last people to have seen Tiffany Durand.”
“Would you like to come in and sit?” Martin glanced at Joanna again and smiled. “I’m dying for a cup of coffee.”
“Actually,” Tony said, “we don’t have a lot of time. Any additional information you could provide that might help us locate Conway would be helpful.”
“I wish I could do something more.” Martin lifted one silk-clad shoulder. “I gave you his number. I really don’t know him that well.”
“If you hear from him or recall anything else, call me.” He drew another card from his pocket and passed it to her. “Just in case you lost my number.”
Hailey took the card and flashed him a flirty smile. “More than happy to.”
Before she could reach for the door once more, Joanna snatched the card from her hand. She dug in her bag for a pen and jotted her cell number right under Tony’s, then offered it back to the woman. “Now you have my number also.”
Hailey didn’t smile this time. She opened the door once more and Joanna hesitated again. “Do you know Professor Orson Blume?”
Hailey frowned but not before Tony spotted the surprise in her eyes. “I don’t think so. The name doesn’t sound familiar. I’m sorry, do you and I know each other?”
Joanna shook her head. “I probably have you confused with someone else. I remember now. I was thinking of Madelyn. She had red hair. You’re a natural blonde, aren’t you?”
Hailey’s lips curved into a smug expression. “I am.” She reached out and touched Joanna’s hair. “And you are not.”
Joanna drew away from her and flashed a fake smile. “No, I’m not.”
When they were in the car driving away, Tony said, “You recognized her.”
“I did.” Joanna stared forward, the fingers of her right hand clenching the armrest. “Eighteen years ago she was Madelyn. She had red hair and she worked as an assistant to Professor Orson Blume.”
“Blume?”
“He was a psych professor when I was a freshman. He was also a much-loved advisor. All the freshmen I knew went to him. After the abduction Professor Blume went out of his way to try and help with our recovery. He was convinced Ellen and I needed additional therapy. I blew him off but I think Ellen went to see someone a few times.”
“You didn’t feel you needed counseling?” Tony kept his eyes on the road but he felt hers burning a hole through him.