Vendetta (11 page)

“I can think of half a dozen reasons why,” Gwen said. “Maybe he's been in jail or sick or even dead. For all we know, whoever took Bridget is just a copycat.”

“So all we really know is that person Bridget fell for, Sean Logan, doesn't exist,” Tyler said, “but she still got into that car willingly.”

“She didn't look so willing in that Polaroid shot,” Nikki said. One thing no one could argue with was the fear in her eyes. “Which leaves us with another question. What happened between the time she got in that car and he took that photo? She might be young and impulsive, but from everything we know about Bridget, she's not stupid.”

“Stupid, no, but you saw the stuff Jack came up with,” Gwen said. “She was hurting and looking for love.”

“Maybe our witness missed something,” Gwen said.

“Or he was lying.” Nikki knew she was going out on a limb,
and a flimsy one at that, going back to Knight, but she didn't care. It was her job to examine every angle. Every potential suspect. “Maybe Jack was right when he said he was only after publicity, but what if Knight
is
the one who took her?”

“Then why would he come to us?”

“Maybe he thinks he can get information. Or maybe simply to satisfy the need to believe he's won.”

Gwen didn't look convinced. “It wouldn't be the first time a perpetrator has posed as a witness, I'll give you that much. But Jack's been putting together a full background check on the man right now, and so far his story checks out.”

“That doesn't mean he's innocent.”

“You're talking about Brandon Knight?” Jack asked. He took off his earphones, then scooted his chair back.

“Yes. Why?” Nikki asked.

“I might have a few answers for you. Brandon Knight was telling the truth . . . just not all of the truth.”

Nikki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I called his agent a little bit ago. He's been fairly successful as a midlist mystery writer. And according to his agent, he really does have a deadline next week. He's received a few small awards here and there, but she said his book numbers have been dropping over the past few years. His one bestseller was a true-crime novel based on the murder of that A-list actress Riley Holmes.”

“That was a bizarre case,” Nikki said. Riley Holmes had been murdered fifteen years ago in a ritualistic killing the night before her long-awaited movie premiere, causing a huge stir in Hollywood and across the nation at the time.

“After that, he switched to writing mystery novels, thinking he'd ride the wave of the success of his breakthrough novel.”

“But switching genres didn't work for him?” Nikki asked.

“Nope. He never gained the audience he'd hoped for and has only had moderate success ever since.”

“Why didn't he go back to writing true crimes?” Gwen asked.

“Apparently he has. Or at least, he's trying to. His appointment was with a woman by the name of Shirley Roberts. Her husband, some Wall Street genius, was murdered two years ago, and it became another high-profile case. But after a bit of digging, I discovered she changed her mind about helping him with the book and canceled on him. Apparently he was going there to try to convince her to change her mind.”

“Because without her, he doesn't have much of a story,” Nikki said.

“Exactly.”

“I don't get it, though,” Gwen said. “What does all of that have to do with our Angel Abductor?”

“Maybe he thinks his luck just changed,” Jack said. “He meets a girl and her family, then sees the man who abducted her.”

“He's planning to play the hero and get a story,” Nikki said.

“But that isn't all the news I have,” Jack continued, clearly pleased with himself. “I've also been going through the text messages from the last twenty-four hours on Bridget's phone and found one from Sean.”

“And . . . ,” Nikki prodded.

“He told her he had a flat tire but was sending his older brother to pick her up. He was going to meet them as soon as he got his tire fixed.”

Nikki's stomach clenched as a piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Now we know why she got into that car with him without a fight.”

“Can you trace the number he used?” Nikki asked.

“I tried, but it's a dead end. Another burner phone, and it's been turned off.”

Nikki felt her frustration grow. “I suppose I get the whole ‘she was just looking for someone to love her' scenario, but
there had to have been red flags along the way. Something in her gut that was telling her things were off.”

“Love can be blind,” Jack said. “How many women have you known who fall for the wrong guy and choose not to see it? That's why we have domestic abuse cases of women who never leave.”

“He's going to kill her if we don't find her,” Nikki said. “You both realize that, don't you? And because of what? Because she trusted some guy she met over the internet. Believed he wouldn't lie to her, and then got in the car with a stranger because he said it was all right?”

“After the Angel Abductor took his victims, what did he do with them?” Jack asked.

“And how much time do you think we're looking at?” Gwen added.

“Three out of the four were killed and buried within forty-eight hours.”

“So he could be here looking for a place to bury her,” Gwen said.

The thought set off a familiar wave of panic in Nikki's gut. Because everything she knew about their presumed killer pointed to the fact that if they didn't find her—now—Bridget Ellison was as good as dead.

What were they missing? Nikki tapped her fingers against the conference room table in the back of their mobile command post while thunder rumbled in the distance. The dark clouds she'd seen this morning were supposed to bring with them a storm by tomorrow morning. She'd spent the last hour going over all of the notes Gwen had made, trying to dig deeper. But he'd hidden his tracks well. And even with Brandon Knight's information, they still didn't have enough to identify the man who had Bridget.

She drew in a breath, then slowly let it out, trying to let go of the tension that had settled in her muscles. A plate of forgotten pizza one of the volunteers had brought earlier lay shoved aside next to her. She should eat. Should take a break. But fear for Bridget had been compounded by worry over her sister-in-law and the baby and the memories of Sarah she couldn't seem to shake today.

Like that last family dinner they'd eaten together at her parents' restaurant.

For twenty-seven years her mom and dad had worked tire
lessly to keep Boyds' BBQ in business. It had been a family effort. Nikki had learned the value of hard work by washing dishes on weekends in high school, then later waitressing all the way through college.

Despite the hard work and long nights, she'd never come to resent her parents. Somehow, family had always managed to come first. Like Sunday nights. They'd grab their favorite corner booth, stuff themselves on her dad's barbeque, and spend an hour catching up on what had happened during the week while live music played in the background of the packed joint.

“I understand someone's birthday is just around the corner,” her dad had said, digging into his plate of barbeque, coleslaw, fried okra, and Mama's homemade jalapeño corn bread.

“I sent out my invitations yesterday,” Sarah said.

“I heard there's a certain boy on the invite list.” Luke, older than Sarah by two years, was constantly teasing her.

Sarah shrugged like it was nothing, but the gleam behind her blue eyes said otherwise.

“Give her a break, Luke.” Matt was always the first to jump in and rescue Sarah.

“Come on,” Luke said. “I'm just curious. Does this boy like you?”

Sarah frowned at the question. “He . . . I don't know . . . He always acts goofy around me.”

“That means he likes you, Sarah,” Nikki said, popping a piece of fried okra into her mouth.

Sarah nudged Nikki with her elbow. “You're saying that because you're my sister. I'm not sure he even knows I exist.”

“I'm saying that because it's true,” Nikki said. “Boys have weird ways of showing girls they like them. Like acting goofy.”

“I confess, it's true,” Matt said, holding up his hands in defeat. “And it worked with Jamie. I've decided to ask her to marry me.”

Matt and Jamie had married eight months later, and from day one, Jamie had wanted half a dozen kids. But a string of miscarriages and months of doctor appointments and tests had set them on a path they hadn't signed up for. Everything had finally changed with this baby. At least, that was what they'd believed.

Nikki quickly checked the messages on her cell phone, hoping she'd just missed hearing from her mom while she'd been busy working. But there was nothing. She let out a sharp sigh, wondering if she should interpret that as good or bad.

She dialed her mom's number, deciding that doing something was better than worrying. The call went straight to voice mail.

“Mom . . . hey, it's Nikki. I haven't heard from you for a while, so I thought I'd check in. Just give me a call with an update when you get a chance.”

She ended the call, still trying not to worry. Her mom was probably just in a part of the hospital that had bad cell phone reception. Which was normal. It didn't signal that there was necessarily a problem.

“Nikki?” Gwen called her over from the other room, pulling her away from her thoughts and back to where she needed to be at the moment. Her being distracted wasn't going to help them find Bridget. “We've got another call that just came in that's worth checking out.”

“What have you got?” Nikki asked, heading into where Gwen and Anderson were sitting at the workstation.

“I was just patched in on a call from someone who says he saw a man fitting the description of the man in the sketch.”

“The sketch our mystery writer gave?”

Gwen nodded.

“Where did the call come from?” Nikki asked.

“Right here in the park. They were on the Little River Road when they saw him. Man said his name was . . .” Gwen glanced
down at her notes. “Robert Hayes. His wife's name is Dorothy. He said that he and his wife were driving this direction from Cades Cove and had planned to spend half a day driving through the park. They had stopped at one of the trails and saw him heading to his car. They had the flyer and called right away. I've got the exact location written down.”

“You think it's legit?” Nikki asked.

“They gave me a license plate number and a description of a car. It was a black, four-door Chevy Impala. Said by the time they were able to get back to their car, he was pulling out, headed in the direction of Cades Cove.”

“Got a name on the car?” Nikki asked, hovering over Gwen and her computer.

“One second . . . Yeah. Here it is. It's registered to a Justin Miller. He's got an address about five miles outside Gatlinburg on a couple acres of land and, it looks like, a pretty extensive record.”

Nikki went and stood in front of the park map they'd added to the whiteboard. “How far up the road would that put him?” she asked Anderson.

“Fairly close,” Anderson said. “There have been several bear sightings the past hour as well, which means traffic is moving slow. If he has her, he'll want to blend in and keep to the speed limit.”

“What if he dumped her body?” Gwen asked the question Nikki had wanted to ignore. “I'm sorry—”

“No.” Nikki shook her head. “We have to look at all the possibilities. Get a team out to his property and see if they can find anything.”

“And I'll get a group of rangers and a tracking dog to the location now to do a quick search of the trail and nearby riverbank where they saw him,” Anderson said.

“Good.” Nikki tapped on the map. “Where do you think he's going?”

“Definitely looks like he's headed west in the direction of Cades Cove, but there are a couple other ways out of the park along that road. Here . . . and here,” he said, pointing to the map.

Which meant if they didn't find him soon, the chances of losing him grew with every minute that passed.

“Gwen, let's get Gatlinburg police to set up roadblocks on these spots.” Nikki grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair. “Can you get me out there as well, Anderson?”

“I've got my vehicle here in the parking lot and can take you myself,” Anderson said, grabbing his keys.

“Great.” Nikki nodded at the officer, then turned to Tyler, who was still working. “Want to come with us, Tyler? After what happened this morning, who knows . . . we might need you.”

“If you need me, I'm there,” Tyler said.

She nodded her thanks, then headed out the door with the men behind her. She did need him. More than she'd realized.

A minute later Nikki slid into the passenger seat of the ranger's car, her adrenaline pumping with expectation. She'd been in this situation a hundred times. A hopeful lead—like the phone call—was what kept them moving. All she could do now was pray it was enough.

She tried to relax as Anderson followed the winding road away from the visitor center, intent on finding their suspect. The view from the road was stunning, which meant traffic was heavy with tourists enjoying an afternoon drive. Below them, the Little River ran parallel to the road with its rapids, small waterfalls, and ferns. Along the road were overlooks, trailheads, picnic areas, and paved hikes. All places where their abductor could potentially hide out.

This wasn't the first time Nikki had taken this route, but today, she barely saw the picturesque view millions of visitors flocked to each year. Instead, Bridget's photo was seared across the front of her mind.

“I keep going back to the same question,” Nikki said, still needing to work through the facts they had. “If this is him, why head into the park that's packed with tourists?”

“It would make sense that he's running scared,” Anderson said.

“Maybe, but like I've said before, everything he's done has seemed clear and calculated. Stalking her. Arranging to meet her. Leaving us the photo. He's got a plan.”

He'd stalked her for months, while gaining her confidence, and got her to trust him enough to pick her up from where she was staying despite the fact that he wasn't Sean Logan. Running scared just didn't fit.

“Which means he knows the park,” Tyler said.

Anderson pressed through the tourist traffic, flashing his lights when needed, in order to get through.

“I think you're right, Tyler, but why the park? No matter how I look at it, it still seems like a foolish move.”

“If you ask me,” Anderson said, “it's the perfect place to get lost. There are plenty of stories of people who simply vanish in crowds.”

Nikki glanced at the officer. “Simply vanishing seems so . . . final?”

But she knew it was possible. Someone had taken her sister, and after ten years and thousands of man-hours logged, Sarah had vanished without a trace.

“We look for twenty, maybe thirty missing people a year,” Anderson continued. “Most of them we find within twelve to twenty-four hours. Only a small handful of cases take months. But then there are those who've never been found. A year ago, a six-year-old was playing hide-and-seek, hid behind a bush, and completely vanished, despite efforts of law enforcement, the National Guard, and thousands of volunteers. A girl vanished in 1976 while on a school field trip. Again, thousands of volunteers spent months looking for the teen but never found a
trace of her. Five years later a woman was hiking with friends and went missing. All of them seemingly vanished into thin air. If you don't want to be found, this park is as good as it gets.”

Nikki had studied the cases he'd mentioned. Some hinted at the possibility of a serial killer or an opportunistic predator. Others were convinced Bigfoot was involved, or that the victims had encountered a natural phenomenon like a mine shaft or some kind of sharp drop-off. Just the dense undergrowth of the park made searching in some areas impossible.

But the risk of bringing Bridget here still outweighed the advantage, in Nikki's mind.

“What's your personal explanation of people who have vanished in the park?” Nikki asked.

Anderson made his way around another car whose occupants had stopped to watch a white-tailed deer. “It's hard to say, but there are as many explanations as there are people who have opinions. In each of these cases, none of the victims were ever found. They just . . . vanished. No bodies, no clues, no suspects, nothing. I know I've never encountered Bigfoot. Which pretty much leaves two possibilities. Either they died from natural causes, or they were abducted.”

Anderson's radio buzzed with a call from dispatch. Another ranger had just spotted the suspect's car.

“Suspect's vehicle has just passed the Elkmont turnoff, but he's refusing to pull over,” the dispatcher relayed.

“How far ahead are they?” Nikki asked.

“A quarter of a mile at the most,” Anderson responded, still trying to maneuver through the traffic.

Red brake lights flashed in front of them. Nikki strained to see what was going on. A dozen cars were stopped in the middle of the road, blocking the way.

Nikki's fingers tapped against the armrest. “We've got to get around them.”

The ranger eased his vehicle through the line of cars. A man had climbed out of his car, camera in hand. A group of kids hung out the window, next to an SUV with its back hatch open.

“There's a bear up ahead causing the holdup,” Anderson said, pointing to the right.

Nikki spotted the bear close to the side of the road, digging for bugs in a tree. Anderson flashed his lights, not wanting to scare the animal as he weaved carefully through the line of cars until they were finally out of the bottleneck and could speed forward.

A minute later, Nikki spotted the second ranger vehicle.

“The suspect's car's in front of him,” Tyler said.

Anderson flipped on his lights, then sped to catch up with the two vehicles.

“He's still not stopping,” Nikki said.

God, please let her be here. Let her be alive . . .
Please.

Nikki felt her heart race as the suspect's vehicle sped up. He'd been meticulous up to this point, but everyone had a weak point. It was too easy to believe you had everything under control. To miss a crucial detail that in the end would become your downfall. This situation was no different.