Vanished. Margaret Daley
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do anything wrong.”
“You paid me to look after her, not talk on the phone. I told her to go out back and play. If she hadn’t, she would—”
He pressed his fingers over her lips. “Shh. Ashley played out back all the time, often by herself. You had no idea this would happen to her.” He regretted his admonition of Kim earlier, but there was no way he could take it back. His words uttered in frustration would be with both of them for a long time. He knew what guilt could do to a person. He’d dealt with it six years ago with his drinking and his wife’s death.
“What if she ran away because of me?”
If only that was the extent of it. Another deep breath to fill his oxygen deprived lungs and J.T. said, “Let’s not play what-ifs. It won’t help Ashley, and it won’t help you. Now, I need you to go over one more time what Ashley was wearing when she went outside to play.”
She closed her eyes, a tear leaking out. “I told Rachel what she was wearing.”
“Tell me again.” He pushed her bangs from her eyes. He hated adding to Kim’s pain by interrogating her. But it had to be done.
“She had on her blue jeans with the butterflies around the hem and her pale pink T-shirt and no jacket because it was warm.” Kim came to a shaky stop, blinking rapidly. “Do you think she’s cold? It still gets cold at night in May, Daddy.”
He ignored her question because he didn’t have a good answer. Instead he asked, “Which pair of shoes was she wearing?”
“Her black patent leather ones. That’s all she wears anymore. I caught her one night sleeping—” Kim brought her hand up to cover her mouth and her tears returned to flow down her cheeks. “But now she’s missing one,” she mumbled through her fingers.
He couldn’t hold his own sorrow back any longer. His tears left a wet track as they slid down his face. Hugging his oldest daughter to him, he cherished the feel of her in his arms. At least Kim is safe. She had been inside the house alone with the back door unlocked. What if whoever had taken—Don’t play the what-if game.
Except for the murder almost a year ago, Crystal Springs was a safe Illinois town. People left their doors unlocked. Kidnappings didn’t occur here. Not a lot happened here, and that was one of the reasons he had brought his family back to his hometown after he’d pulled his life out of the gutter.
Kim jerked away and shot to her feet. “I’ve got to do something to help. I want to search like Neil is. Please, Daddy.”
His son had accompanied Reverend Colin Fitzpatrick and a couple of men from the church while they searched the area around Faith Community Church and the lakeshore near it. He hadn’t let Kim go with them, partly because she was the last person to see Ashley and needed to be interviewed and partly because he wanted to keep her as close to him as possible. He could have lost her today, too.
“No.”
“But I need—”
He planted his hands on his jean-clad thighs and shoved himself to his feet. “I said no, Kim. It’s too dark and most of the teams are finishing up.”
“Tomorrow then?”
“We’ll see. I’m moving the command center to the station, and I want you to come with me.” Again he heard thunder in the distance and realized another storm system was moving into the area.
She opened her mouth to say something, decided not to and snapped it closed. After snatching up her jacket on the back of her desk chair, she stalked out into the hallway.
With a heavy sigh, J.T. followed his daughter toward the foyer. The doorbell rang. Kim rushed forward to answer it before he could stop her.
Standing in the entrance to his house was Madison Spencer. The sight of her in her FBI jacket thrust him back to the previous May when murder had come to Crystal Springs. The implication of her presence in town underscored the gravity of the situation and nearly destroyed all the control he had mustered.
TWO
Day one, 10:00 p.m.: Ashley missing three and a half hours
“Madison,” J.T. whispered in his entry hall, his voice a weak thread. Seeing the FBI agent jacket cemented in his mind that his daughter wasn’t likely to waltz into his house, wanting to eat dinner, anytime soon.
Madison stepped through the doorway. “I’m sorry we’re meeting again under lousy circumstances.”
Kim looked from Madison to him then back to the agent, her gaze glued to the yellow letters on the navy-blue jacket. “Dad?”
J.T. shook his head at Madison, hoping his brief expression transmitted the need to be careful with what was said. “Honey, the FBI is routinely called in when a child’s missing.”
But as usual his daughter was smart and observant. “Ashley isn’t just missing. Someone took her.” Kim’s voice and lower lip quivered.
Although it wasn’t a question, J.T. answered, “We don’t know for sure—” he stalled, wishing more than anything he didn’t have to say the next part of the sentence “—but yes, I think she has been kidnapped.”
His daughter bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling. Tears glistened again in her eyes. “Why? Who? We don’t have much money.”
No words came to mind as he stared at the pain in Kim’s expression. Her observation about their financial situation made the fear he’d kept suppressed in order to function effectively bubble to the surface. Financial gain could be handled. The other reasons a child was kidnapped were so much harder as a cop and a parent to deal with. He shuddered. He realized his daughter needed some kind of answer, but he didn’t know anything to say that would make the situation better for Kim.
Thankfully Madison stepped forward. “That’s what we’re going to determine.” She steered his daughter toward the couch in the living room. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown since last summer.”
Alone in the foyer, J.T. dropped his head and stared at the ceramic tile. Visions of those other reasons swam around in his numb mind: someone who thrived on sexual exploitation, a person from his past while he was a detective in Chicago, or human traffickers. Another shudder passed through him.
Lord, please bring Ashley home. Protect her. I’m begging You. Help me! I can’t lose her. Where do I begin?
The sound of Kim and Madison talking in lowered voices drew him forward. If he was going to do a thorough job of finding his daughter, he had to shut down the thoughts that kept popping into his head. He couldn’t waste any more time on them.
“But there hasn’t been a ransom demand,” Kim said as J.T. entered the room. “There hasn’t, has there, Daddy?”
His daughter’s big blue gaze fixed upon him chipped away at the composure he had just shored up. “No. Nothing.” He instilled strength into his voice, a strength he had to maintain.
“Then, see, she’s probably just missing.”
“That’s a possibility, Kim, but we’re covering all the bases until we know something for sure.” Madison looked toward the kitchen. “I smell coffee, and I’ve been driving for a couple of hours. I could use a cup. Do you think you could get me one, Kim?”
“I guess so.” His daughter pushed to her feet and trudged across the room, her shoulders hunched.
When she was gone, J.T. came closer to Madison and sat in the chair next to the couch. For some reason her presence helped him feel as though he wasn’t totally alone in this. They had worked well last year on the murder case and she was very good at her job. That thought comforted him. “So you left the state police to join the FBI. Where’s the rest of the team?”
“They’re coming. Probably twenty minutes behind me. I think I broke a few speed limits getting here.” She tossed a wry