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After exchanging a meaningful look with Carter, Jo nodded. “Okay.” She handed Ellen a card. “Call me if you hear anything and, of course, if she shows or calls you. We’ll keep searching for her. Thank you for your time.” She led the way out through the gallery and back to the cruiser.
“What do you think?” Carter tossed a toothpick into his mouth and looked at her.
Jo pulled open the door and looked at him over the top of the cruiser. “From the evidence, this is another abduction.”
THIRTY
Maisy Jones paced up and down, the words of the Smiling Man ringing in her head like an earwig. She hadn’t slept, even though the new room he’d given her was clean and fresh. Set away from the rotting corpses, the room resembled a backpacker hostel. She had a clean bathroom, a bed with pillows, linen and blankets. Clean clothes, a small refrigerator stocked with food, even a coffee maker. He obviously didn’t have any qualms about her throwing a pot of hot coffee over him to escape. She sat on the bed chewing her nails. After seeing him wheel a young woman with long red hair into the makeshift morgue, her life had suddenly changed.
“What does it feel like being my accomplice?” He’d grinned at her and, clasping her arms behind her, had pushed her out the door and along the passageway to her new room. “I appreciate what you did to help me, but I want more. This room proves I keep my word. Help me one more time and I’ll set you free. This was just a test.”
Maisy had stared at him uncomprehending. “You made me lure that poor woman to her death. What else do you expect me to do?”
“I want a child.” He’d opened his arms wide. “I’ve seen the perfect one. They go to the supermarket every second day and allow the kids to run riot. She has two, and I want the boy. All you have to do is to distract the mother and I’ll do the rest.”
The plan surged through her mind. They’d actually discussed tactics. She’d listened to his plans and even suggested an alternative. Her task would be to steal the baby and he’d distract the mother. Oh, yeah, she’d agree to take the baby to get away from him, but then she’d run straight to the cops. He’d seen straight through her as if she’d written the idea on her forehead. Yet he’d promised her that once he had the child, she’d be free to go but he’d reminded her, he had proof she’d made the call. He had her fingerprints on the phone and he’d make sure to leave evidence to incriminate her. Overnight the implications of what would happen if the Smiling Man was caught dominated her mind. The cops would find the bodies and he’d cut a deal and give them her name. She’d be as guilty as he was because, in fact, she had lured the redhaired woman to her death.
Pushing back tears, she flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her heart pounded when her gaze settled on the front of an air-conditioning vent. It was industrial size and big enough for her to climb through, but how would she open it? She stared at the two spoons on the counter. They were all he’d given her to eat with and she might be able to use one to pry open the front of the vent if she could reach it. She pushed the chest of drawers over a foot or so and, using the chair as a step, climbed on top, spoon in hand. To her surprise, at closer inspection she found the front of the vent wasn’t screwed down at all. It swung open on hinges like a door and was probably left unlocked for cleaning. She used the end of the spoon to reach high enough to push it wide, but the opening was too high to reach. She tucked the spoon inside her pocket and, taking a deep breath, she stretched her fingers as far as she could reach and jumped. Her fingers gripped the edge and, using the molding around the wall for leverage, she pulled up and slid inside.
Panic gripped her as she stared ahead into the darkness. The once shiny aluminum surface was thick with dust and animal scat. Anything could be living in there, snakes, spiders or rats. Her skin crawled at the thought of them running all over her, but she had to get away. Edging forward, she moved her hands slowly, feeling ahead into the musty air. The thick coating of dust and grime made it hard to breathe and cobwebs hung down everywhere. She moved slowly, inching her way into the smothering darkness. It was so tight her back rubbed the top and she couldn’t lift her head. The duct went straight for a time and then, to her horror, turned sharply to the left. Squeezing around the bend would be her worst nightmare. Claustrophobia swamped her, and she fought down waves of panic.I can do this.
She sucked in stale air and tried to concentrate. Rolling onto her side, she jackknifed her body and, using the rivets in the metal, pushed with her feet and slid around the bend. Darkness closed in around her but a tiny spot of light in the distance shone like a beacon of hope. She moved onward but ahead the vent narrowed. The joints between the sections had been reinforced with metal surrounds. She collapsed in despair. There would be no going back now. It would be impossible to shuffle feet first all the way back to her room. Breathing rapidly, she fought for control and rested her head on her arm. Sweat trickled down her back and thirst tore at her parched throat, but she lifted her head and pushed one arm through the hole. Her head went through next and then she wiggled until her shoulders slipped through. She pushed forward but couldn’t move. Stuck against the reinforcement and desperate to escape, she wrenched her body forward and realized that her shirt was caught on the screws. Terrified of dying alone trapped inside a metal coffin, she swallowed a scream of despair and panting, rolled onto her side and eased one arm back to untangle her shirt, and then dragged her body forward. The tiny light grew bigger and soon she could make out the outline of another grate.
The dim light pushed her on. She dragged her body through each narrow section until she finally reached the grate and peered into an empty room. It was the same as the one she’d left but dust and remnants of plastic and old newspapers littered the filthy floor. She must be in a room farther down the hallway outside the makeshift morgue. Excited, she pushed on the grate, but it didn’t move. Panic had her by the throat and in desperation. She thrust her fingers through the vents and pushed. With a whine of rusty hinges, the door moved an inch. Using all the strength she could muster, she pushed hard, willing the door to open. Inch by inch, she forced the door and stuck her head outside. She breathed deeply and shook the cobwebs from her hair. It was a long drop to the floor and there was nothing to climb onto. She couldn’t turn around to drop down feet first and lay flat, panting not knowing what to do. Going out headfirst wasn’t an option. She’d likely break her neck.Think, there must be a way.
Staring at the hinged door, she sucked in a deep breath and reached up with one hand to grip the top. Taking a firm hold, she eased out her shoulders and grabbed the top with the other hand. She turned and sat on the edge and then pushed out and dropped down her legs. Metal cut deep into her palms as she hung in midair, suddenly too afraid to let go. It looked such a long way down. Her sweaty dust-covered fingers slipped and she fell, hitting the floor and biting her tongue. As the metallic taste of blood spilled across her mouth, she staggered to her feet and stumbled to the dirt-encrusted sink. She turned on the faucet and waited for the rust to clear. After washing her hands, she cupped her palms and drank. Turning toward the door, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and moved closer. She’d made a noise when she fell, and if the Smiling Man was close by, he’d have heard her. Trembling with the fear of being caught, she pressed her ear against the gap beside the hinges and listened for a few minutes. Hearing nothing but her own ragged breathing, she slowly turned the handle. “Nooooo!”
The door was locked.
THIRTY-ONE
Inside Aunt Betty’s Café, the smell of pumpkin soup filled Jenna’s nostrils. She inhaled deeply and sighed. As she raised a spoonful of the delicious nectar to her lips, a shadow crossed the table and beside her Kane stiffened. She raised her attention from the bowl of soup and looked straight at the black microphone held by the news anchorman Troy Leman.
“Sheriff Alton, are the reports about the local artist Ginger Vaughn, correct?”
Jenna lifted her gaze, annoyed a camera was pointed at her, invading her privacy. “What reports are you referring to, Mr. Leman?”
“The Blackwater sheriff alerted the FBI after Ginger Vaughn went missing. She didn’t show for her exhibition at the gallery in Blackwater. Do you believe this case has anything to do with the people who are missing from Black Rock Falls?”
Jenna kept her expression neutral. “Mr. Leman, my jurisdiction ends at the border of Black Rock Falls. I believe you should direct your questions to Sheriff Nolan.” She cleared her throat. “Before you ask, I have nothing further to add on the missing persons cases or the explosion. Please direct all your enquiries about the latter to the Helena auto forensic team.” She stared at him. “Now, if you’d allow us to eat our meal in peace, we can continue to do our jobs.” She raised both eyebrows and stared at him.
“Come on now, Sheriff.” Leman pushed the microphone closer to Jenna’s lips. “Everyone knows you’re tight with the FBI from Snakeskin Gully. Are you working together on these cases?”
“That’s enough.” Kane pushed back his chair and stood. “In future direct all your questions to Deputy Rio. He is our public relations officer. Sheriff Alton will only address the public if the need arises. At this point in time, there is no development in any of the cases. Should that change, you will be the first to know.” He walked toward Leman with one arm extended until they all backed out of the diner.
Shaking her head, Jenna watched as Kane walked back toward her. “That has to be a first. I know these reporters need to get a story, but he could have waited until we’d finished eating.”
“It’s the nature of the beast.” Kane shrugged and sat down. “How’s the soup?”
Jenna laughed. “As soon as I can get a spoonful in my mouth, I’ll tell you.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived outside a neat log-built cabin on Hatchett. Jenna climbed out of the Beast and headed up the gravel pathway. Alongside the house sat a black truck with advertising along one side. She waited to one side of the stoop for Kane to examine the truck and then knocked on the front door. A few moments later, a man came to the door and she looked up at him. “Lance Barker?”
“Yeah, Sheriff, what can I do for you?” The tall thick-set man leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest.
Jenna indicated to the black truck parked in the driveway. “Is that your truck?” She watched his expression as his gaze moved past her and then back again.
“Yeah, that’s my girl.” Barker grinned at her.
