Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

the purse?’
    ‘ID.’ Deacon clicked to the next photo.
    It was a girl, seventeen years old, dark brown hair. Her address was Wheeling, West Virginia. ‘Heather Lipton. Ford said “Heather” when he first woke up.’
    ‘When did he wake up?’ McManus asked.
    Joseph told them about the second dose of ketamine and the violence with which Ford had woken thirty minutes after being brought into the ER. ‘The doctor said he screamed Kim’s name and Heather’s. I assumed they’d heard him wrong and that he was saying MacGregor.’
    ‘Heather Lipton disappeared last summer,’ McManus said. ‘She’d been on her way to a concert with her friends. Their car broke down and Heather decided the concert was too big to miss. She set off hitchhiking, even though the other girls begged her not to. She never showed up at the concert. We had search crews out every day for a month. Cops, Feds, community volunteers. It was like she vanished into thin air. This is the first lead we’ve had.’
    Dread building in his gut, Joseph slid the contents of the envelope to the bed. There were copies of newspaper articles and a series of police reports, typed on an old fashioned typewriter. Grace Kelly Montgomery had been abducted in November of her senior year of high school. She was seventeen. Also missing was Daphne Sinclair, age eight. The report included photos, taken on school picture day. Daphne had blonde pigtails and an engaging grin. Kelly’s photo was her senior portrait.
    ‘Seventeen,’ he murmured. Like Heather Lipton . What the hell was this about?
    He leafed through the pages that documented the search and subsequent discovery of little Daphne hiding in a bathroom stall at a rest stop off the interstate near Dayton, Ohio. She’d been dirty and half frozen. And unable to tell them where she’d been or how she’d escaped. Or even if her cousin still lived. ‘ “One week later Kelly’s body was found, ” ’ he read quietly. ‘In a state park north of Dayton, Ohio.’
    ‘I remember this now that I’ve read the report,’ McManus said. ‘I was only five and my mother and all the neighbors were scared to let us walk to and from school alone.’
    ‘What the hell is all this about? Where’s the connection to Doug?’ Joseph whispered, staring at the grainy copies of the old photos.
    ‘We need to talk to Ms Montgomery,’ McManus said. ‘And we need that kid to wake up and tell us where the hell he found that purse.’
    ‘You said Agent Kerr was setting up a search,’ Joseph said. ‘Over what area, and what kind of support?’
    ‘Canine units and foot teams for now. We’ve got a helicopter coming from Charleston. We’re starting from where we found the backpack.’
    Joseph rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, thinking. And as he breathed, he could smell Daphne’s scent on his hands. ‘Let’s go talk to Miss—’
    A shrill scream cut him off, quickly followed by another scream.
    ‘ Joseph! ’
    Daphne .
    Baltimore, Maryland, Wednesday, December 4, 8.10 P.M.
    It took Cole a few minutes to find something to pry the door open. Luckily it was a regular door, not a super-secure steel model like his great-grandfather had used when he built the place. Or so Aunt Betty had told him.
    All the good tools were up in the garage, but he’d found a fire axe in the storage closets. It looked super-old. Cole hoped he didn’t break it. He slipped the axe blade in between the door and the frame and yanked.
    The door flew open like it was butter, revealing the girl who’d begged him for help. She was small and still, lying in a cot like the one he’d seen in the other room. Cole leaned over her, studying her. She was college aged, Asian. He touched her forehead. She was also burning up. Hopefully she doesn’t have a contagious disease .
    He sat on the floor next to her, his back to the wall. ‘Great,’ he muttered. ‘I’m stuck in a bomb shelter with Typhoid Mary.’
    ‘Kim.’
    Startled, he flashed the cell phone light in her face again. ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘My name is Kim,’ she said in a voice that sounded like sandpaper. ‘And I don’t have typhoid. Your brother stabbed me and my leg is on fire.’
    ‘Which brother? I have two.’
    ‘Doug.’
    ‘I don’t have a brother named Doug.’
    ‘You’re Cole, right? The one who gets suspended all the time?’
    He scowled. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then you have a brother named Doug.’
    Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 8.28 P.M.
    Daphne’s