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two years and forty-three days missing
chapter 73
quinn
Quinn finds the mystery woman.
Of course she does: she’s Quinn Wilde.
It takes her forty-two hours and so many Panamanian coffee beans she’ll never sleep again, but there she is: the dark-haired woman in the lilac dress, right at the edge of a photo taken by one of the wedding guests.
From the timestamp, it was evidently snapped at the end of the ceremony; the bride and groom are facing their guests, preparing to walk back down the sandy aisle together as man and wife. Whoever took it must’ve been sitting towards the rear of the rows of chairs because much of the foreground comprises a blur of the back of people’s heads.
But the woman in lilac is in perfect focus.
She’s standing by the shore with several other tourists who’ve stopped to watch the ceremony. Quinn almost didn’t spot her, because most of her distinctive lilac outfit is obscured by the photographer’s fat finger. But there she is, staring at the wedding party under the canopy.
At Lottie.
Quinn crops everyone else out of the photo and runs it through some enhancing software, enlarging and sharpening the image of the woman until her features are recognisable.She’s in her mid to late sixties, at a guess. Her skin has the deep caramel tan of someone who’s spent a lot of time in the sun over many years, not just a few weeks on their summer holidays, suggesting she’s either a native Floridian or lives somewhere warm, like Australia. Her dark hair is heavily greying and pulled back from her face in a ballerina bun at the nape of her neck. There’s nothing remarkable about her; had Quinn not been looking for her, she’d have been just another face, lost in the crowd.
She can see why the four witnesses confused the woman with Penny Williams. They resemble each other quite closely and they’re wearing similar dresses. If this woman’s the kidnapper, she certainly had luck on her side.
Those spidey senses of Quinn’s tingle. The woman could just be a local who was taking a sunset walk along the beach and stopped to enjoy the romantic spectacle. Complimented Lottie on her dress, perhaps, or told her not to go too near the water.
But Lottie’s abduction was on every news channel and in every newspaper for weeks afterwards. There were posters of her in supermarkets and bars all over St Pete Beach; the president even made an appeal for her safe return. Unless this woman lived under a rock, she must’ve known there was an international manhunt underway for the little flower girl she’d stopped and chatted to.
So why didn’t she come forward?
Quinn copies the enhanced image into a text message to Alex, and then hesitates. She doesn’t want to send the poor woman down a conspiracy rabbit hole again, especially since she’s got no actual proof the woman in lilac has any bearing on the case. She knows the chance Alex will recognise her is remote at best.
But if this womanisthe one who took Lottie, then clearlythe little girl felt comfortable enough to go with her without making a fuss. Which means Alexmether.
In a nail bar, maybe. Handing out towels by the pool.
It’s got to be worth a shot.
Quinn hits send.
