Page 39 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

JP sat at his desk, Hannah Caldwell’s file spread open. Old cases bothered him, not because of what the file said, but because of what it didn’t.

JP flipped back to the beginning and read it like he was looking for what didn’t belong.

Hannah Caldwell was five years old when she went missing. Her mother reported it. After school was dismissed, she was supposed to walk home with some older kids that lived next door. The older kids left without her when she wasn’t there to walk with them. The mother’s boyfriend, Victor Hayes, wasn’t home until twenty-five minutes after she was last seen at school. His story changed as to where he was.

But first, JP had to figure out if Hannah and Bay were the same person. He read through the witness statements again—neighbors, teachers, students, even a crossing guard. Everyone had a version. None of them lined up clean.

He pulled a legal pad toward him and drew a line down the center. On one side, he wrote: Hannah Caldwell. On the other: Bay

He stared at the second name for a moment. “Or whatever your name really is,” he muttered.

He started with what little he knew about Bay. Female, maybe fifteen. Street-smart. Careful. Protective. Dark hair. Brown eyes.

He thought about Hannah. If she had lived, she would be the same age.

He made a note: Age works.

He flipped through the file again, looking for something else, her personality, behavior, anything.

He found a teacher’s note. “Quiet, but observant. Follows directions. Watches more than she speaks.”

That certainly described Bay. She watched everything, measured every word, and didn’t speak unless she chose to.

JP wrote: Observant—possible match.

He flipped another page. There were some medical notes, all routine, nothing remarkable. No long-term injuries they could compare.

JP read the family notes. Mother had a boyfriend and lived in an unstable environment.

JP shook his head. He looked back at Bay’s column. She was a possible runaway, independent, and didn’t trust the system or anyone for that matter, except Sabre.

That part isn’t a clean fit. He wrote it anyway. Selective trust doesn’t match early profile. But by now, the missing/runaway girl could be very distrustful.

Physically, they could match. According to descriptions by witnesses, Hannah had small bones. Bay did as well, and the brown eyes matched. Hannah’s hair was blonde when she was young, but it could have darkened, or Bay might have dyed hers.

He studied both sides. There wasn’t enough information to prove or disprove the connection. He wondered if Detective Nelson had found anything that might help from the crime scene. He picked up the phone and called him.

The detective answered on the third ring. "Nelson."

"JP Torn."

"It’s been a while. DuBois said you might call.”

"He warned you about me?"

A chuckle. "He said once you got interested in a case, I'd either answer your questions or trip over you asking somebody else."

"He's known me too long."

"I'll give him that. Does he always call you McCloud?"

“I can’t seem to break him of it. You got a minute?"

"Sure."

"I'm trying to figure out who Bay Mercer really is."

"So am I."