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“Do they have any leads?” I asked weakly. What if he’d killed her? The thought of her hurt or worse made me want to rip out all of the wires they had connected to me and go find her myself. Not that I had any ideas where he would have taken her.
“The police aren’t telling us much.” Rafferty massaged his temples. His hair stood up on one side, as if he’d been dragged from bed. His eyes were bloodshot, and stubble darkened his chin. “Maybe they have nothing to go on. I don’t know.”
A cop came into the room, introducing himself as Detective Walsh. “Would you mind if I talked to Caspian alone?” Walsh asked Mama. He clearly understood who was in charge here.
She agreed, albeit reluctantly. “We need some coffee anyway,” Mama said, kissing my forehead. “Don’t wear yourself out, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Don’t forget to eat.”
She shook her head, smiling indulgently. “Honey, that’s the last thing on my mind, but thank you.”
Walsh’s thick white mustache reminded me of a . He was probably my mother’s age but looked older because of his significant midsection girth and ruddy complexion.
He asked me to run through what I remembered, encouraging me to take my time and really try to envision exactly what I’d seen.
“I was fishing. Facing away from her, so I didn’t see where he came from or even exactly when. We’d had a picnic, and I’d left her on the blanket to read. When I turned back to see how she was doing, I saw a man with her. He stuck her with a needle in the neck. A sedative, I’m assuming.”
“Tell me what this guy looked like,” Walsh said.
I described him best I could. “Tall. Barrel-chested. Red hair that’s bushy around his face but recedes at the forehead. Kind of wide-set, bulgy eyes. He was dressed in all black.” I closed my eyes, conjuring the image of him. “He had a pistol in his left hand. That’s what he shot me with.”
Walsh scribbled something on his pad. “Left-handed. How old do you think he was?”
“Probably mid-thirties,” I said. “Or maybe older. It was hard to tell.”
“What else can you remember?”
I thought for a moment, seeing it play out in my mind. Elliot hadn’t looked as surprised as she should have. Like she recognized him. “I think she knew him.”
Walsh nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “We’re pretty sure it’s the man who was stalking her in Seattle. She had a restraining order against him. Mike Russo. Did she ever mention him?”
I drew in a deep, painful breath. “She never told me his name, but yeah, she told me about that situation.” How had I not put that together? Of course it was him. Who else nabbed someone from a remote spot on the river? “How did he find her? And how the heck did he know we were at the river? That’s a spot only my brothers and I go to.”
“We don’t know. We’re working under the assumption that he followed you guys there. He may have been watching her habits and routines for months.”
“Our fences don’t extend that far on the property,” I said, thinking out loud. “So it would be easy for him to follow us there.”
Walsh stuck the pad into an inside pocket of his tweed jacket. “There’s also been another kidnapping. We’re feeling confident they’re related. A young woman named Heather Douglas wastaken from the Boise hospital where she works as a nurse two nights ago. She’s twenty-four years old but lives with her mother and stepfather. According to her mother, two nights ago she never came home from work. A woman walking to her car in the parking garage witnessed her getting shoved into a van by a man who matches Russo’s description. The witness was certain she was under duress because of the way he tossed her in the back and then quickly closed the sliding door. She had the wherewithal to duck behind a car and jotted down the license plate and then called the police. We traced the number and now know it’s registered to a Mike Russo. We also found the van abandoned in a rest stop off the freeway. Which means he either had an accomplice or another car parked in wait. We’re trying to figure out the connection between the two women. Did you ever hear Elliot mention the name Heather Douglas?”
“No. Not that I recall. She told me about the stalker, but not many details. It was my understanding that the restraining order in combination with her upending her life to move to Montana had been enough to keep her safe. She stayed off social media and hadn’t even told any friends where she was.” I shifted, agitated. Movement caused my shoulder to hurt so I stopped. “It all happened so fast. After he shot me, everything gets blurry. But I heard an engine start as I faded away. It was him. Taking her.” A thicket of trees blocked the view of the flat patch of dirt that served as parking. He’d have been able to park without either of us seeing him and come in on foot, just as we had done.
“We have the woods within a five-mile radius being canvassed by volunteers on foot for any clues. But we also have an APB out. He may try to cross over the border to Canada.”
“What good will that do? We already know he was there.” Unless they were looking for Elliot’s body? My throat constricted. He had her, and we might never figure out where. Or worse, he’d already killed her or was about to. She must bescared and feeling alone. Even so, I’d bet money she was acting tough even though she was terrified. Hot tears stung my eyes. I was useless to her, stuck in this bed.
“As I said, we’re looking for clues about him or where he might have taken her. Like a book of matches with a logo, for example, could tell us where he might have stayed before the abduction.”
“Yeah, okay, that makes sense,” I mumbled.
“We’re doing whatever we can to learn more about Mike Russo. There’s a team of detectives working that angle in Seattle. If you think of anything else, I’m leaving my card with you.” Walsh set it on the table attached to the bed, next to the cup of ice water with a bendy straw. “I can assure you, no one will rest until we find the missing women and the man who took them.”
Dead or alive. Either way, they solved their case. But for those of us who loved “the missing women”? We wanted them home safe. In one piece. And very much alive.
“I’ll call you if I think of anything,” I said. “Please, Detective Walsh, find her. Please. She means a lot to me and my family.” I wanted to tell him how much I loved her and that I’d started to believe she was my soulmate and how hopeful I’d been about our future together. Instead I simply said, “We were just getting started.”
“I understand.” Walsh frowned, bushy white eyebrows coming together to make one white caterpillar. “You may think we care only about solving the case, but you’re wrong. I lost someone, years ago now, to violence. My sister’s murder is why I’m a cop. I can promise you my team and I will do whatever it takes to find them.”
“Thank you.”
