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Meems picked up her coffee and washed down her mouthful. “Probably for the same reasons the police told you when you filed your missing person report—she’s young, newly independent, probably testing her wings. That she’ll show up eventually once she runs out of money.”
Travis had worked through his plate of pancakes and was digging into his ham and cheese omelet. How he had an appetite Meredith didn’t know as she stared down at her own egg-white omelet. She picked up her toast instead and took a bite.
“Five years and nineteen girls—that we know of. None of their bodies have been found. That could be a good thing. Either that or they just haven’t been discovered yet. But after five years, you’d think something would have turned up.” He swigged a mouthful of coffee down, nodding as he processed the information. “And the girls. Anything of interest about their description? Same ethnicity? Race? Hair color?”
“All pretty, but other than that, nothing consistent. You got a handful of Hispanic girls, two Asian girls, one African American. Of the white girls, there were brunettes, blondes, redheads.”
She paused, looking at Meredith a second too long. “Do you want me to speak frankly?”
“By all means,” Meredith said, knowing that the woman’s hesitation had to be about her. “Are you thinking this is the work of a”—she barely could say it—“serial killer?”
The woman looked directly at Meredith now. “Honestly? It’s entirely possible, only…I have some other theories as well.” She flipped the laptop back to face her and typed as she continued, “Serial killers usually stick to an MO. Same race, and often within that race they might prefer brunettes, or blondes. Some attribute, some characteristic the victims share that means something to the killer. This guy—or gal—is picking them indiscriminately. Then there’s the fact that the women are from various areas, four different states.”
“That can hardly be uncommon,” Meredith said. “Bundy and countless others h
ave crossed multiple state lines.”
“Yes, but the pattern is odd here. According to the reports, sometimes two, maybe three girls go missing around the same time. Within the same few days. Utah and Colorado in one instance. That has to be tough, when you consider all the planning that would have to go into the apprehension of one. Planning that almost would require…a network. Not just one person, but a few to help carry this out.” She typed again, stopping as she studied the data. “January, March, June. November. These are months that the girls have disappeared for the past five years. Recognize any pattern?”
He thought about it for just a beat. “Sporting events. NBA finals, Super Bowl, maybe March Madness?”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Meems said and shared a look with Travis, who nodded slightly. They knew something, had some understanding, but they weren’t saying it out loud.
Meredith was going to stab her fork in Travis’s thigh if he didn’t stop the secrets.
“I’ve put out some feelers,” Meems said. “I don’t have any bites but I’m going to keep looking.”
It was like they were speaking in some secret code, both understanding the other and not feeling the need to share with Meredith.
She gripped her fork tighter. “What aren’t you telling me? If you don’t think this is the work of a serial killer, you clearly have some idea what might be going on. Spill.”
Meems looked expectantly at Travis, who turned to face her. “Sounds like…possibly human trafficking. These girls could be kept as forced prostitutes in some hole-in-the-wall in town. Then sold to high bidders and moved around the country. It all depends on who’s running it. Their connections. For a few years now, there’s been reports of these rings supplying girls for some of the big sporting events. For their guests.”
“According to the FBI database, there are three separate organizations in the area that they suspect operate in drug and human trafficking,” Meems added.
“Like a sex slave. You’re saying that there are men who will use these girls, willing or not, for sex.” Her stomach tightened, and she was relieved she hadn’t eaten her breakfast since she was sure it would be revisiting her right now. “And if the girls refused? What then?”
“It’s not optional. They might be beaten until they come around, or if they’re lucky, drugged so they can’t fight.”
She wanted to cry. Needed to cry. But not here. Not now. It had only been one day. If what they were saying was at all possible, she had time.
Darcy was alive. And she’d find her and bring her home.
“I’ve printed off each missing persons report,” Meems said and pushed the stack of files to Travis. “Along with a copy of the police notes and any conclusion as well as information the FBI has gathered. Don’t ask how,” she added when Travis opened his mouth. “I’ll continue to dig and if I find anything else, possibly some connection, I’ll let you know.”
The chime from Meredith’s phone sent her fumbling for her purse. It wasn’t the familiar song she’d selected as Darcy’s ringtone, but it could be someone with information. Her fingers found the device and she quickly answered.
“Meredith? Where the hell are you?” a female voice yelled into her ear.
“Excuse me? Who is this?”
“Are you kidding, Mer? It’s Annabeth. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” Twenty minutes ago? Why would she be— “You’re going on air in forty minutes. You all but blackmailed me into giving you this promo spot for that gala of yours and you’re going to leave me—and my job—out to dry?” the woman continued and Meredith grimaced, pulling the phone away from her ear.
From the looks of Travis and Meems, her shrill voice had been heard across the table.
Oh, mother of…
She’d completely forgotten. Annabeth was right. She had strong-armed the woman into making this happen, had even planned her outfit down to the lip color and accessories she’d wear, looking forward to the airtime and the attention it would give the event.
