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“I can meet you at the station if that works,” I say, feeling like I need to get out of the house. I know there’s no way Ethan is going to let me go alone, and I really wouldn’t want to go without him anyway. “Can you tell me what’s going on? You have some new information?”
“A few of the guys who work with me spent the last few days combing through the security footage from the hotel where the car was stolen from. We think we have someone, and we’d like to see if you can identify him or if he seems familiar to you.”
I almost let out a defeated sigh the second he says they have an image of someone. I’ve told the detective and the police that I don’t know what the guy looks like. He was wearing a mask and hat and honestly very neutral and unassuming clothes. There was nothing that stood out and that’s the part that kills me. I hate that I can’t be more help.
“I can come take a look, but like I’ve said before, I don’t think I would recognize him even if he was standing right in front of me.”
Ethan is watching me, his eyes focused on my face and taking in every word. He wants to jump in, he wants to tell the detective to leave me alone. I can see it written on his face, the way his jaw tightens, the way he swallows hard as I talk.
I reach over and rest a hand on his arm, letting him know I’m okay. This isn’t going to be the last time I get a phone call like this, so we both need to get used to it. I’m hit with a wave of panic and Ethan is plagued with stress. This situation is taking its toll on us.
“I can head over in an hour. Does that work?” I now ask.
“Yes, thanks, Zoey. Just let them know you’re here to see me.”
An hour later, Ethan and I are walking into the Lake Tahoe police station, his hand in mine, his grip tightening as we head through the door. He hasn’t let go of me since we left the house, not that I want him to.
It is hard being away from the safety of his house and knowing my abductor is still out there has us both on high alert. I guess the police station is probably the safest place we could be, but that still doesn’t ease my fear. I really do need some normalcy back in my life. I can’t keep going to the police station and then back to Ethan’s house. That’s no way to live.
“We’re here to see Detective Simmons,” Ethan says as we approach the clerk sitting behind a glass window.
“Name?” he asks, never looking up from his computer.
“Zoey Holden,” I say, and suddenly his head shoots up, his eyes scanning my face. He knows who I am, and I can’t help but wonder if he knows my name because of Holden Winter Gear or if it’s because I’m the girl who was abducted.
I used to think that it would be nice to be known as something other than the girl whose family owns Holden Winter Gear, but now that I’m in this situation, I would give anything to go back to that girl.
“I’ll tell him you’re here,” he says, but I can tell by the look on his face he wants to ask me something. And again, I’d love it if he tells me the only gear he wears is Holden or that he loves our snowboards, but given I’m in a police station, I’m sure his interest has nothing to do with skiing.
It’s only a few seconds before the detective opens the door and invites us in. Greeting both of us with a handshake and smile, although, I can tell it doesn’t do anything for Ethan. He wants this over and I don’t blame him, but the detective is doing the best he can.
We follow him into a room, closing the door behind him, he asks us to sit down at a small table. Sitting down across from us, he opens a file folder and removes several pictures.
Sliding one over to me, he asks if I recognize the man in the slightly grainy photograph.
I look it over, not saying anything for a few seconds as I take in the picture. It’s a man in the car I used to escape. It’s been taken from a distance, and I can tell it’s from the camera that is at the exit to a parking garage. We have something similar at Badger Creek.
“That’s the car,” I say, my eyes still focused on the picture, my mind begging me to recognize something other than the car.
“Yes, it is, but do you recognize the man driving?” Detective Simmons prompts. This time, he slides another picture over to me. It’s the same picture, but this time it’s zoomed in on the man’s face.
I look at his eyes, his hands on the steering wheel, the way he’s looking right at the camera as it films him stealing this car. He has no shame.
But there’s something in me that tells me this isn’t the guy. This isn’t the guy who abducted me. This is the man who stole the car for him. This is the man who hit me over the head, but this is not the man who held me captive.
“This isn’t him,” I now say, my words said with such conviction that I feel them in my soul.
“You’re certain?” the detective now asks, and I nod my head, my eyes wide at my revelation.
“This is his accomplice,” I say, knowing that I have nothing to prove that but how I feel as I see this picture.
“How can you be sure?” he says, his words coming out fast and almost accusatory. It sets Ethan off the second the words leave his mouth.
“Are you questioning her?” Ethan barks out, his hand now flat on the table, his jaw clenched.
“No, I’m not. I need her to be sure of what she says. We need to put out an APB and I need her to be certain. Are we looking for an accomplice or are we looking for the man who abducted her.”
“You’re looking for both,” Ethan hisses, and I rest my hand on his thigh, shaking my head a little, telling him to calm down. His anger isn’t helping.
