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“I don’t understand. You said that he’d kidnapped someone. But maybe she went willingly. He’s very persuasive.”
“She was kidnapped,” Sean said. “Do you know that he was in prison for rape?”
“Peter?” She sounded shocked.
Hans said, “Statutory rape. High school girls he taught.”
“Oh God, that’s so awful. I didn’t know. I cut all ties with everyone, even my book club.”
“Why did you change your name?” Dillon asked. “Did he threaten you?”
“I told him I wanted a divorce. My friends wouldn’t let me do it alone, they came with me, and he let me leave. I thought it was too easy, but that maybe he understood—but fortunately my friend Becca didn’t believe it. Her brother was a cop, and he let me stay with him. Separate bedrooms, there was nothing going on…then, anyway.
“I got a job as a secretary at the police station because of Jimmy, and felt safe for the first time in years. I didn’t hear from Peter for months. I had my attorney serve him the divorce papers. Peter walked into the police station the day after that with an envelope. He handed it to me, and said, ‘You are my wife. You will always be my wife, even though you are a filthy whore. Come home now, accept your punishment, and I will forgive you.’” She took a breath. “I didn’t go. He stared at me long enough to have six cops surround him. They escorted him out, and Jimmy told me I needed a restraining order.
“I opened the envelope. Inside, the divorce papers had been torn into tiny pieces. And there was a photograph of Jimmy giving me a hug. Peter had been spying on me. This had been the day my dad died—he’d been in a hospice for two years with cancer, and the director called me and said he’d died in his sleep. There was nothing sexual about that hug! Jimmy was just a nice guy!”
“Marie,” Hans said, “you don’t have to justify anything, understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I panicked. I said no restraining order was going to stop him. I don’t know why I was so scared, because Peter had never physically hurt me. But I knew he would kill me. I just knew.
“Jimmy helped me legally change my name and I moved to Arizona. I was so lonely. I had no family and had a hard time making friends. I called Jimmy after six months and he flew out, and that’s when we realized we cared about each other. He got a job in Austin as a police detective, and we got married a year later. I have two beautiful children, and I don’t want them hurt. Please, please—”
“Marie, Peter will never know. But we need to know where he’s keeping Lucy.”
“I don’t know. I’m telling the truth—I haven’t spoken to him since I left Wilmington.”
“We know that,” Sean said, “but he has no property under his name in Maryland, Delaware, or Virginia. We’re searching other states. We’ve tried his parents’ names, his grandparents—there’s nothing. He has to be somewhere. Maybe a friend? A cousin? A vacation house?”
“I don’t know…”
Dillon said, “It would be a place he felt safe, where he’d go or talk about when he was under stress. A place that reminded him of what was important to him. Very private. Secluded.”
“Like his great-grandmother’s farmhouse?”
“Yes,” Dillon said, leaning forward. “Where is it?”
“Warrenton. I was only there once—he took me when we graduated from college, on our way to Wilmington. We stayed a couple of days. No one lived there. It was in a trust because of some family dispute before Peter was even born. It was old and creepy, but Peter loved it. He said he was saving money to renovate the place and this was where we’d raise our family. I humored him because I didn’t think we’d ever live there.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know. In Warrenton, that’s all I remember.”
Sean asked, “What’s the trust’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
“His great-grandmother? Was she a Miller?”
“No, she was Adeline Harker.”
Sean started typing on his computer.
Hans said, “Marie, thank you. If you’re still concerned about your safety, have your husband call me. I’ll explain what’s going on. I give you my word: your ex-husband will never find you.”
“I hope you find her.”
“We will, thanks to you.”
