“Houser was the professor’s assistant for a good number of years,” Buckley pointed out for anyone who didn’t know.
“Ms. Guthrie,” Tony went on, “has already told us of Houser’s connection to her abduction and we have video taken from Conway’s apartment proving a connection to the current abductions. Blume is a lead that needs to be followed quickly and thoroughly.”
The room was quiet for ten or so seconds. Jo’s pulse pounded with each one.
“We’ve been looking into Professor Blume,” Buckley said. “He has no family beyond his wife, but most of his friends are current or former faculty members so it was relatively simple to get some recent background on him. According to those who know him best, the professor and his wife decided to take an extended vacation for their anniversary. Most got the impression they would be gone for several months. Agents Richards and Johnson have just this morning put into works an investigation into their whereabouts.”
“What about Sylvia Carson?” Jo spoke up. “Has she been located?” For God’s sake Ellen’s parents were going through the horrors of having a missing child all over again. It was bad enough to live through it once. No family should have to go through that nightmare twice.
“We’ve had several tips come in on our BOLO for Sylvia Carson,” Phelps said. “She used her debit card so we were able to confirm a stop at a gas station in Macon three days ago. The attendant confirmed she was driving a white Honda Civic.”
“No sightings since?” Tony asked.
“She’s taken to ground,” Phelps said, “the best we can tell.”
“Or she’s driving something else,” Tony argued.
“It’s possible,” Jo countered, “whoever gave Houser and Conway their orders has Sylvia.”
Nods and grunts of agreement went around the table.
“Since we haven’t discovered her car abandoned,” Phelps said, “we’re going with the scenario that she’s in hiding, but we’ll keep an eye on any vehicles reported missing, as well. She may very well have taken another vehicle.”
“What about the missing weapon in Houser’s home?” This from Tony.
“Since the weapon wasn’t registered, it’s hard to say.” Phelps shook his head. “We believe it was a .38 based on the case she kept it in. Whatever it was, Carson likely took it with her.”
“Where are the boots on the ground focused?” Tony wanted to know.
“We have people on Central State Hospital property,” Buckley advised. “We have a committee of students who are helping with the questioning of other students. Every student on campus is being asked if they knew Tiffany or Vickie. We’re hitting all the clubs, bars and restaurants suggested by those who knew the two best with flyers and pleas for help. Every detective and deputy in the county is shaking his or her sources. We have hundreds of volunteers working with us. The entire county is being turned upside down.”
“Tip lines are still ringing off the hook,” Phelps added.
More search options were suggested and discussed. Jo couldn’t slow the pounding in her chest as the men went back and forth about the best way to find the unfindable. This—this meeting felt like a waste of time. They all—everyone at this table—should be out there searching.
“What about Dr. Alexander?” she blurted. No one had mentioned her and Jo was certain she was involved on some level with this.
All eyes shifted to her.
“She’s still in guarded condition,” Phelps said. “Her doctor has assured me that my detectives should be able to question her by tomorrow. We didn’t find anything on her cell phone. She’d obviously deleted her call and text history. We’ve subpoenaed her phone records. We’ll have those in a couple of days. Her husband was out of the country but he’s back now. We’ve talked to him and he has no idea about her being involved with anything outside the clinic.”
Jo nodded. She appreciated their efforts but they were getting nowhere faster and faster.
Tony said, “Ms. Guthrie and I would like the authority to continue our own search on the Central State Hospital campus. I’m hoping she might see something that triggers a memory.”
An argument about the legalities of the proposition broke out among the members of law enforcement. Jo could hardly catch her breath as they went back and forth and back and forth. Didn’t they understand that they were wasting precious time?
Phelps held up his hands for the others to quiet. “LeDoux is a former highly trained federal agent. He is fully aware of evidentiary procedures. I’m certain—” Phelps stared straight at Tony “—that if he stumbles upon possible evidence that he will immediately call me or Chief Buckley.”
“Absolutely,” Tony confirmed. “The only thing worse than not finding your unsub is screwing up the evidence and losing him in the courtroom. Do not forget for a moment that this is my niece we’re talking about. No one wants to find her and to see that justice is served more than I do.”
Buckley nodded. “It’s in the best interest of these two missing students to do all within our power to find them. They’ve been missing far too long. If unorthodox measures are necessary, then so be it. I, for one, don’t want to be the person who looks back at this time with regret.”
Agent Wagner leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get no argument from me.”
Richards shook his head. “I’ll need to speak with my superiors before I agree to having a disenfranchised federal agent stumbling around a potential crime scene.”
Phelps crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I tell you what, Agent Richards. You go ahead and speak to whomever you feel you need to, but since this is my jurisdiction, this is how we’re going to do it.” He turned to LeDoux. “As of right now, Mr. LeDoux, you’re working as a special consultant to me and this department. You do everything you know to do to find these young ladies, but don’t cross that line we talked about or your friends here will be the least of your worries.”
“Thank you, Chief.”
The meeting adjourned and Jo couldn’t get out of the building fast enough. She hurried down the steps and into the shaded yard. The security building was actually a historic home that had been renovated years ago. She scanned the neighborhood, the sorority houses, the buildings of the main campus where she’d started the rest of her life eighteen years ago.
One mistake had stolen that future from her and so many others, like poor Ellen.
Someone was going to pay for all the futures they’d stolen.
Whatever Tony had promised Phelps, she hadn’t made the same promise. The bastards who did this didn’t deserve their day in court.
Conway and Houser were already in hell where they belonged. If Jo had her way, the others would go straight there, too.
42
Day Ten
Eighteen years ago...
Ellen is back. She is seriously injured.
She keeps vomiting.
I demand to know what happened, but No-Name won’t talk. She’s hiding in the farthest, darkest corner of this place.
I hate No-Name. She isn’t like us. She doesn’t care if we all make it out alive. She only cares if she makes it.
Bitch!
I stroke Ellen’s tangled hair. I whisper softly to her, promising her that she’s okay now. I caress her skin. My fingers come away wet. I smell the sticky stuff and recognize the metallic odor of blood.
I search her body in the darkness for the origin of the blood and find a wound on her chest. A slash.
Dear God—had they been given knives?
Rage detonates inside me.
I shoot up and rush around the blackness until I find the fucking bitch who won’t even tell us her name.
I launch onto her, straddling her skinny body before she can scramble away. I grab handfuls of her stringy black hair. “What did you do to her?”
I’m screaming, I know. I don’t care who hears me.
She doesn’t answer. Only whimpers.
I bang her head against the floor. “What did you do?”
“They gave us spears. We had to fight.”
Her body starts to shudder and she sobs like a child.
My fingers loosen in her hair.