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Katherine’s thought froze there. Until what? Her death? Her rescue? One thing was certain, her captor was capable of murder.
Again, her mind tortured her with why her. If putting her in the ground was their intention, her body would be back at the gas station with that young woman.
The van started to slow, and an uneven terrain rocked the chassis side to side.
Katherine strained to listen. Nothing. She had been carted to someplace isolated. This isn’t good at all!
The car stopped, and he got out of the front. Sometime later, tires crunched, and she heard a car’s engine that sounded much like her Mercedes. Next, a woman said, “We pulled it off.”
“Don’t get too cocky, or you’ll jinx the whole thing. And what took you so long? You left before me.”
“I… I had to?—”
There was the sound of flesh striking flesh.
The woman yelped.
“You better not screw everything up.”
What was everything? Shivers tore through Katherine again. This confirmed they had more planned for her than just murder. The seemingly unstable dynamics between her abductors didn’t help her nerves. Unpredictable equaled extremely volatile and dangerous.
Footsteps crunched over stones and twigs and headed toward the rear of the van.
Katherine was holding her breath as the rear doors were opened.
Their faces were covered, and he was holding a gun on her. So much for fighting back. That would have to wait.
Who are these people, and what do they want with me?
SEVEN
7:30 AM, MONDAY
Missing for 2 hours, 40 minutes
The clock had started, even if time seemed to lag. But they were already nearly three hours behind. And every second that passed diminished their chances of finding Katherine alive. Emotionally, Amanda was numb. Physically, she moved slower for a few moments. Her legs had weakened and her eyes became unblinking. But once the initial shock had worn off, everything swung into full action.
They replayed the video and followed the shooter out of the store again. On a second viewing, they noted his height was five eleven using the security tape next to the door as a guide. But Trent had spotted something else. When the shooter reached out to throw the door open, the sleeve of his winter coat rode up his arm a few inches, exposing some flesh between it and the cuff of his glove. Zooming in, they were looking at a tattoo on his left wrist. They couldn’t distinguish what it was depicting, but detectives in the Digital Forensics Unit could possibly enhance the video. A copy of it would be sent to them. They might even be able to make out the obscured license plate or other distinguishing features on either the shooter or his partner.
A lot of things happened at once. The BOLO was issued for Katherine’s Mercedes, and a request was made to track its current whereabouts through its GPS. Since stolen vehicles were sometimes used in the commission of a crime, Malone was getting two other detectives in the Homicide department to look into any white Ford vans that were reported stolen. If that didn’t pan out, they’d check for registrations within Prince William County and pull backgrounds on those people to see if any led to possible suspects. In the case all that failed, local vehicle rental companies would be contacted to inquire about Ford vans that may have been recently rented out. A request would also be made for CCTV footage from intersections east of the gas station. They might help determine if the shooter continued in that direction. If they were lucky, maybe one or both let their guard down and removed their balaclava.
CSI Blair collected a cigarette butt from the area that the accomplice had flicked one, and pieces of a smartphone were also in that area. It would presumably be Katherine’s to cut off their ability to track her, but that still needed to be confirmed. Regardless, there was a trace being done on her number, just in case it wasn’t hers.
Trent had also texted Rideout with Leah’s time of death.
All these pieces clicked together seamlessly as if this was something the team experienced every day.
The woman who had found Leah was released, but they showed Porter Landry and Marty Evans a picture of the man’s left wrist. The tattoo was out of focus, but it still might jog their memories. They added they suspected the shooter was five eleven of solid build. Neither were able to confirm they’d seen him before. It had been a reach, but a necessary one, and they were sent home.
Arrangements were made for an officer to update the Bernards on the situation while Amanda and Trent took care of something else.
Trent was driving them to Hannah’s Diner, and with every turn that took them closer, Amanda braced herself for the conversation that was to come. May Byrd was a dear friend and had been a part of Amanda’s life since she was young. Assuming Katherine was next planning to go to the diner, May would be worried sick about where she was.
The lot was full of vehicles, and people were bustling in and out of the diner. May had established a strong customer base with her stellar coffee, but the diner’s recent success could be attributed to Katherine’s advertising efforts.
The increased business meant May had to take on more staff. Until recently, it was her and a full-time cook who stepped up as a server when needed. Now, in addition to Katherine, there were five part-time servers and two cooks. It looked like Hattie Knox was working the counter with May today. She was the newest employee, in her late fifties, and had taken an early retirement from her career in finance only to find life had gotten tedious. This and a desire to get out among people had her applying for the job.
Trent parked and turned to Amanda. “Do you want me to handle this?”
