Shock sucker punched Tony. “Are you able to see the license plate of the vehicle?”
Buckley shook his head. “We found another clip that wasn’t more than thirty or forty seconds of Conway having sex with Parton. She’s tied to a bed—looks like the one in his apartment—and she’s unconscious.”
Son of a bitch. “What about Tiffany?”
“We weren’t able to recover any footage of a sexual nature involving her.”
Tony somehow managed to drag air back into his lungs. He was glad that bastard had gotten his in such a fucked-up way.
Buckley led the way to Martin’s master suite. Like the downstairs, the rear wall of the room was all glass, the view overlooking the lake. The massive bed was front and center. Tangled sheets. Lingerie on the floor. The earthy smell of sex lingered in the air.
“How does Martin tie into what Conway was doing?” Tony asked, since the man hadn’t mentioned her in relation to the video footage they’d found on the hard drives.
“You’re gonna love this.” Buckley stepped back, allowing the gurney to be pulled from the bathroom.
“May I?” Tony asked with a gesture to the body bag. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Buckley and Phelps fully capable of doing their jobs, but he didn’t trust Hailey Martin—aka Madelyn Houser—not to have another identity up her sleeve.
Buckley gestured to the gurney. “Of course. Her real name is Madelyn Houser. She has a criminal record from fifteen years ago when the college fired her for stealing from some of the students. She was a professor’s assistant. Anyway, the driver’s license in her purse lists her as Hailey Martin. I’m guessing that was her way of escaping her criminal record.”
Joanna had mentioned some connection to a professor at the university. “The professor she worked with, was that Professor Blume?”
“That’s the one.”
The attendant drew back the zipper and revealed Martin’s pale, bloated face. Tony really had hoped she would lead them to Tiffany and the others. Son of a bitch. He nodded and the bag was closed once more.
As they continued toward the en suite bath, he said to Buckley, “You were saying that I was going to love something.”
“Martin—Houser—whoever the hell she was, walked in on Conway while he was raping Parton. That’s why the video ended abruptly. She pulled him off the girl and started screaming at him. Stuff like: I’m going to fucking kill you! and These girls are not your playthings, they’re goddamned merchandise.”
“Merchandise.” Tony felt sick to his stomach.
Buckley nodded. “I’m thinking human traffickers?”
Tony stared at the massive soaking tub that had been the death of the bitch partially responsible for his niece’s kidnapping. “I’m guessing we’re looking at something far bigger than two local thugs like Martin and Conway.”
Buckley made an agreeable sound. “We haven’t found her cell phone. Never found Conway’s. Car’s in the garage. My money’s on the same perp. This kill was cleaner than the other.”
Tony nodded. “Conway’s murder was far more emotional. His killer knew him. Hated him.”
Buckley nodded. “That’s my thinking.”
“Chief Buckley!”
Tony and the chief turned as the officer rushed into the bedroom. “Chief Phelps needs to see you, sir.” He looked to Tony. “You, too, Agent LeDoux.”
Agent. What do you know? Tony was apparently back on the right side of this cluster fuck with the local cops. Whatever he had to do. Bringing Tiffany and Vickie home safely was all that mattered.
Joanna, too. Maybe she was still waiting for this to be over so she could go back home.
Downstairs, Phelps gestured to the computer screen. “Have a look at this.”
Tony and Buckley moved around behind where the chief was seated at the table. The screen was frozen on the front door of Martin’s home.
“There’s no video in the bedroom,” Phelps explained. “Only at the entrances to the home. This is the last person to come into this house last night just after midnight and the first and only person to leave at ten forty-five this morning.”
A young woman, nineteen or twenty at most; short, tight blue dress; mega high heels; big tote bag–style purse arrived in the middle of the night. Martin met her at the door, gave her a big hug, and then invited her inside.
“She looks really young,” Buckley noted. “Like one of the students at the college.”
“Another freshman,” Tony agreed. Like Tiffany.
“She’s blonde,” Phelps said. “What you want to bet if we search that bedroom upstairs closely enough we’ll find a match for the hair we found at Conway’s apartment.”
Tony said, “There’s someone else who needs to see this video.”
Both Phelps and Buckley swung their attention to him. Phelps was the one to demand, “Who?”
“One of Martin’s and Conway’s first victims.”
Before they could demand any more answers, Tony walked outside, the idea that Conway had raped Parton twisting in his gut. Had Martin interrupted before he could do the same to Tif or had he already finished with her? The entire concept made him sick to his stomach. He suddenly wished the son of a bitch was still alive so he could kill him.
Joanna watched him approach the car. When he reached her door her eyes widened in question. She opened the passenger side door and got out. “What’s going on?”
“There’s video.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The Bureau’s forensic team was able to pull some video off the hard drives in Conway’s apartment. They now have proof he and Martin-Houser-Whoever took my niece and the other girl.” He held her gaze. “As well as a third girl. Just like you said.”
The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered wildly. “Was there anything about the other person or persons involved?”
“Not yet. But we may also have the unsub who murdered Conway and Martin on the home security video. I want you to have a look to see if you recognize her. She may be connected to someone else involved. Maybe one of the other victims you interviewed.”
Joanna nodded. “All right.”
He felt her tension mounting as they entered the house. The walk along the hall to the dining room felt like miles. When they reached the huddle around the laptop Joanna moved closer to him.
“This is Joanna Guthrie.”
Buckley frowned. “I thought your name was Carrie Cole.”
She shrugged. “I made that up.”
“What’s this about?” Phelps demanded. “I thought she was your girlfriend.”
Tony looked at her, urging her to tell them the truth.
“I was lured into a trap by Miles Conway and Hailey Martin—she was Madelyn Houser back then. Eighteen years ago. Ellen Schrader, too. Carson. Ellen Carson. Carson was her maiden name. We were taken the Friday before spring break. We were found fourteen days later.”
“Wait, wait,” Buckley said. “I pulled some old files and found this case—your case. It’s the only one I found that was anything like this one.”
Joanna took a breath. “There were others. One each year after we were taken for another four years. Different colleges, different times of the year. Of the ten victims, only four are still alive. They all described a blonde woman and a dark-haired man as flirting with them or associating with them in some way before they disappeared. The descriptions fit Conway and Martin.”
“She’s done extensive research,” Tony said. “It wasn’t until today—when you told me about the recovered video footage that we had evidence to back up what she’s been telling me all week.”
Phelps stood and offered Joanna his seat. “Have a look at this video and tell me if you recognize this woman.”
As Joanna moved around the desk, Tony brought her up to speed. “She’s the only person besides Martin who came into the house last night and she was the only one to leave this morning.”
Phelps cued up the video.
Joanna stared at the video for five seconds before speaking. “Oh my God.”