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Brogan cleared her throat. “Guys, the stress of all this is getting to all of us. The thing I don’t understand is why kidnap fourteen-year-olds. Kids can’t drive, so no licenses to steal.”
“Social security numbers,” Kelly clarified. “Either they took their cards or needed the names to apply for new ones.”
Horrified, Brogan blinked back tears. “Kidnap and murder over a social security number? That’s insane.”
When Brent rejoined them, Lucien updated him with the bad news. He waited for that information to sink in before delivering the rest. “That leaves only two names we can’t match with a missing person’s report—David Halloran and Vivian Lawton.”
“I couldn’t find anything remotely current on those two people,” Jade confirmed. “The only reference that makes sense is from 1918. Coincidentally, Vivian Lawton died in May 1918 at the age of three from influenza, and David Halloran died as an infant from the same thing in July, a few months later. But the interesting thing is that both children were laid to rest at the same cemetery in Independence, Kansas.”
“You’re thinking the driver’s licenses are phony,” Brent prompted.
Jade nodded. “What else could it be? The licenses were both issued in Colorado in July 1969. And there are birth certificates issued in those two names.”
Brogan chewed her lip and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “That one detail goes a long way in proving there were two of them. Why else would Vera need a male driver’s license unless she had an accomplice?”
“They probably got the names from the headstones while in Kansas,” Jade explained.
“So the guy in the blanket box was probably still alive in July 1969 to get his phony license then,” Brogan decided. After gaining some composure, she let out a sigh. “I’m afraid none of this tells us where the name Vera Lockhart originated. Did Canadian Katharine Pellico go from Vivian Lawton to become Vera Lockhart somewhere between Colorado and California? I’m not sure how we’ll ever prove that with so many time gaps in between.”
Brent took the time to study each name listed on the whiteboard. “It’s probably not a coincidence that Vivian Lawton and Vera Lockhart have the same initials. VL.”
“Wait a sec,” Jade announced. “I forgot to do a complete name search within that same Independence cemetery. Let me check something real quick.”
Several keystrokes later, Jade let out a victorious whoop. “There’s a woman who passed away in 1888 named Vera Lockhart buried three rows away from little Vivian Lawton’s gravestone.”
“Vera Lockhart,” Lucien muttered. “Good work, Jade. Was Vera a criminal genius in an era without computers?”
“Not a genius,” Brent said. “Just an ordinary desperate criminal who learned early on how to beat the system.”
“Like Gidget’s killer,” Lucien directed. “Seems there was a lot of beating the system back in the day. Serious crimes went unpunished, unsolved, leaving behind a trail of disappointed families wondering what the hell happened to their loved ones.”
“Do you suppose anyone ever missed Gidget?” Brogan asked in a somber tone. “Are her people out there somewhere with broken hearts?”
“Let’s hope we can answer that question after the lab comes up with DNA,” Brent answered. “Look, I’m calling it a night. We made progress today. But right now, we need to pack this stuff up and store it away in a secure place. I’ll lock it in the evidence room on my way home.”
“I have a cardboard box in the mudroom you can use for transport,” Brogan offered. “Be right back.”
“I’ll take it. River reminded me that my boys would like to see their dad’s face around the table at suppertime. I’d advise all of you to get something to eat, relax, and get a good night’s sleep before we tackle everything again tomorrow. After all, we need to prove Vera Lockhart was this Katharine Pellico from Canada. All we have now is a great theory but very little to back it up.”
Brogan returned with the box and began to load up the stuff from Vera’s backyard. “Hopefully, tomorrow, we’ll make the connection. I didn’t realize how tired my brain was until right this moment. It hurts thinking about all those people who became victims.”
Lucien rubbed the back of his neck and tried to work out a kink that had settled there. “Same here. But it’s been a long day for all of us. Grabbing some downtime means we can stay on track. Maybe Tuesday will be better.”
“Let’s order pasta and salad from Longboards,” Brogan suggested. “I’m too tired to cook or think about what to fix for dinner. And you all deserve a good meal. I have Longboard’s menu on my phone.”
While the others decided what they wanted for dinner, Brent grabbed the evidence and turned to leave. But Lucien followed him down the hallway. “I’ll walk you out to the car.”
“What’s up?” Brent asked when he reached the porch. “What is it you didn’t want to say in front of the others?”
“Because we’ve theorized Vera Lockhart’s past this far, what if she actually did have a connection to Gidget?”
“It’s a longshot but one we’ll need to face if the DNA shows us a link. Otherwise, we’re left scratching our heads over it.” Brent slapped Lucien on the back. “Take a minute to enjoy the evening. Whatever you’re thinking, let it simmer on the back burner for tonight. A good cop knows when to shift his brain into quality time with family and friends.”
Lucien smiled at the praise. “You think I’m a good cop?”
“Yeah. But don’t let it go to your head.”
14
