Читать книгу Stalked - Elizabeth Heiter - Страница 11

2

Early the next morning, the door to the broom-closet-cum-office burst open, and Evelyn looked up from the Haley Cooke case file. She’d left late last night and returned early enough that she might as well have just slept at the station. She’d barely had time to swing by the BAU office first, squeezing in a quick chat with Kyle on her hands-free while she drove to the station and he headed to his physical therapy appointment.

Standing in the doorway now was Quincy Palmer, the grizzled, veteran detective Sophia had introduced her to last night. He made up for having no hair on the top of his head with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, wore his detective’s shield dangling around his neck even inside the police station and didn’t seem capable of cracking a smile. She’d also learned he had poor boundaries when it came to other people’s food in the police fridge. Her 2:00 a.m. dinner had been a candy bar from the vending machine after he’d eaten her pasta.

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Quincy announced.

“What?” Sophia asked, barely looking up from the report she was reading.

“Morning news.” He turned and headed back the way he’d come, offering no more information.

“Shit.” Sophia dropped the report on the table and followed.

Evelyn trailed behind them, not even trying to keep up. They turned into the break room—it smelled of gunpowder and body odor—on the other side of the station. There were a handful of patrol cops inside, drinking coffee and chatting before their early morning shift started. A small TV was on in the corner, the sound low.

Quincy turned it up loud enough that the other cops scowled at him and left the room. Sophia and Quincy ignored them. Evelyn gave them rueful nods and stepped out of the way.

There, standing in front of a big white colonial in well-tailored dress pants and a bright blue sweater, was a middle-aged woman with dark blond hair and sad blue eyes. Microphones were pointed at her from all directions, as though she’d called a news conference.

“Linda Varner,” Sophia said unnecessarily. Haley’s name had been a staple on the morning news for a month, but it had been a while since Evelyn had seen her mom in front of a camera.

“Where’s the husband?” Evelyn wondered. The first few days after Haley’s disappearance, she’d gotten used to seeing Linda Varner speaking into the microphones, with Pete Varner standing slightly behind her, silently holding her hand. Always playing the part of the dutiful husband, and yet Evelyn had gotten the feeling it was for show. “What’s going on? Do they still camp out at her house or did she call them?”

Sophia shook her head, but it seemed to be at the TV rather than any response to Evelyn’s question. “Don’t do it, Linda.”

“My daughter left behind a note,” Linda said, her voice strong and clear.

“Damn it,” Sophia snapped. “What the hell is she thinking?”

“She must have called the press,” Evelyn said softly. What a disaster.

“What did the note say?” one reporter asked.

“When did you get it?” another called.

“I found the note last night,” Haley’s mother said in the same steady, even voice, almost as if she was reading from a script. “It said...” Her voice suddenly broke, and her chin dropped to her chest before she tipped her head back, looking determined. “It said she feared for her life.”

“Well, not exactly,” Sophia noted. “I can’t believe she’s doing this. She knows better.”

“It said she knew someone was coming after her.” Suddenly, Linda was staring directly, unnervingly, into the camera. The shot zoomed in close on her face. “My daughter suspected someone was stalking her. That person grabbed her. But I know she’s still out there. I know she wants to come home. So, whoever you are, know that we won’t stop looking. We’re going to find my daughter, and unless you let her go, that means we’ll find you, too.”

The camera was so close that when she stopped speaking, Evelyn could see Linda swallow, could see the shallowness of her breathing despite her calm demeanor. From a distance, she looked put together. Up close, the cracks were showing.

When Linda didn’t say any more, the reporters started yelling over one another with questions.

“That’s all I have to say.” Linda stepped back, opened the door and disappeared into her house.

Sophia lifted the remote and stabbed at a button. The TV went dark. “Unbelievable.”

“Have you talked to her about the press and—”

“Hell, yes,” Sophia said as Evelyn glanced at Quincy, who stood silently in the center of the room, arms crossed over his barrel chest, watching them.

She wondered about his role. In the short time she’d been involved, he seemed to show up a lot, and stick around for the details. “Are you involved in the investigation?”

He grunted at her. “Nope. This is a small station. Sophia and I are the only experienced detectives. Sophia’s handling this case close to full-time, and she’s a single mom with two kids at home.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Sophia snapped. “I’m not the only cop with kids.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only detective here working all night long, while a babysitter watches your kids. Believe me, that can’t lead to anything good. When’s the last time your good-for-nothing ex...” He trailed off as Sophia’s lips tightened and she jammed her hands on her hips. “Anyway, it means I’m getting called in on nearly everything else. Just consider me an interested party.”

“We had a lot of department turnover last year,” Sophia told her, dropping her arms to her sides.

She still looked annoyed with Quincy, but Evelyn got the impression they were friends, and she seemed to shake it off fast.

“We’ve got some new detectives, but they’re not fully up to speed yet,” Sophia added.

From the loaded gaze Quincy was sending Sophia, Evelyn had a feeling there was a story there, but instead of asking, she said, “Should we talk to Haley’s mom again? At this point, the damage may already be done, but—”

“I’ll handle it,” Sophia cut her off. “Fact is, I can’t stop Linda from talking to the press. She’s doing anything she can to keep Haley’s story in the news. And honestly, if I were her, I’d probably be doing the same thing. Maybe it will even help. If she’s still alive, someone must have seen her.”

“Sure, but put too much pressure on her kidnapper and if she’s alive—”

“I know.” Sophia grimaced. “She won’t be for long. So, let’s get down to it. You’ve looked through the files. What do you think? Is she still alive?”

“I need to get a closer look at all the players before I can answer that,” Evelyn hedged, because although she was ready to give Sophia a victim profile, she had too little to go on to give a helpful perpetrator profile. “But why would Linda think the note meant her daughter had a stalker? Did anything turn up about a stalker?”

Sophia sighed, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the break room carafe as she shook her head. “No. But Linda’s convinced Haley was grabbed by a stranger. She’s thought that since the beginning. She’s talked herself into thinking a stalker set his sights on Haley the week before Haley went missing, when Linda was away at a work conference. She can’t bring herself to believe it’s someone she knows.”

“But it makes no sense for Haley to leave some cryptic note if she thought a stranger was stalking her. She’d tell someone.”

“Agreed,” Sophia said.

“Why would she leave the note at all?” Quincy spoke up. “If it was a stranger, why not tell someone she was scared right away? And if it wasn’t a stranger, and she really feared for her life—if she really believed that if anyone ever found the note, it would be too late for her—then why not write down his name? Or at least give us some details so we can figure it out. I mean, by then, if she’s right, that person can’t hurt her anymore.”

“That’s a damn good point, Quincy,” Sophia said, and looked at Evelyn. “You have a take on that? You think the whole thing could be some kind of hoax, could be planted?”

“I really doubt it,” Evelyn said. “But you’re right. It’s an odd note. We should consider the possibility that Haley had an entirely different intent, that she didn’t name anyone because there was no one to name.”

“Meaning?” Quincy asked.

“Meaning, maybe she ran away, and she left the note behind to send everyone in the wrong direction.”

“That’s what Haley’s dad is claiming.”

“Linda’s husband?” Evelyn asked, surprised.

“No. Haley’s biological dad. Bill Cooke. He went to the press, too, not long after Haley went missing. It didn’t get as much airtime because he doesn’t have Linda Varner’s presence or persistence and he isn’t the custodial parent. But he claimed Haley ran away from home because of abuse.”

Evelyn gaped at Sophia. “I didn’t see anything about that in the case file. Did you investigate that possibility?”

Sophia dumped her coffee down the sink, muttering under her breath, then said, louder, “Of course. And it is in the file. You probably haven’t gotten to Bill Cooke’s interview yet. But I haven’t found anything to substantiate his claim. If anything, I’m seeing signs Bill was abusive and that’s why the parents divorced.”

“How long ago?”

“The divorce? About three years. Right before Haley started high school.”

“Okay. What about the stepfather? Any possibility of abuse there?”

“Well, technically, Bill was blaming Pete all along,” Sophia said. “But we looked into Linda, too. And we didn’t find anything at all. Although quite frankly, I’m not so impressed with Linda’s husband. He’s—” Sophia seemed to be searching for a word, then finally settled on “—cagey. I’m not seeing evidence of abuse. Doesn’t mean there isn’t any, as I’m sure you know. But as far as Bill’s claims go, they seem to be intended to hurt Linda more than help Haley.”

Evelyn got ready to ask more, but Sophia preempted her. “Look, the divorce was ugly. Really ugly. There was a custody battle and Bill lost big-time. Haley was old enough to have a say, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Haley never went as far as to say there was abuse, at least not in the court documents I dug up, but Linda got primary custody. Bill got a few weekends a year. From what I can tell, his time was usually cut short.”

“By who?” Evelyn pressed.

“According to Linda, that was Haley’s choice. But given the animosity there...” She shrugged.

“So, this could be a custody issue,” Evelyn suggested. “Maybe Bill grabbed Haley, and he’s claiming abuse by the mother’s new husband to deflect attention.”

“It’s a possibility,” Sophia said. “But if he grabbed her, where is she? We’ve interviewed Bill Cooke, several times. He lives in a little brownstone in DC. He won’t let us in, but he’s got almost no yard. The houses there are close together. I’ve talked to his neighbors, and they can tell me what he watches on TV at night. It would be pretty hard to hide a seventeen-year-old in there, especially one who’s been on the news as much as Haley, and particularly if she didn’t want to be there. If he took her, wouldn’t he have gone into hiding?”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the search to die down before he moves her,” Evelyn said.

“That might work with a four-year-old,” Quincy spoke up.

His deep voice startled Evelyn. Even though he’d planted his large frame in the middle of the room, he’d been so quiet she’d nearly forgotten he was there.

“But hiding a seventeen-year-old is a little trickier,” he continued. “I agree—he’d have a hard time keeping her there if she didn’t want to stay.”

“I know it’s a long shot,” Evelyn said. “But we need to look into it, especially in a case where there was a hostile dispute over custody. And with Haley turning eighteen in less than a year, maybe Bill Cooke figured this was his last chance, especially if Haley was threatening to cut him out of her life entirely.”

Sophia nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s true. I don’t really like Bill Cooke for this, but honestly, I don’t really like Bill Cooke at all. I wouldn’t be surprised that if we do discover there was any abuse happening, he’s at the center of it.”

“Okay,” Evelyn said. “Let me finish reading through the case files. Because all I can give you now is about Haley.”

“A victim profile?” Sophia asked. “Tell me.”

“Well, the key thing here is that Haley is very high risk for whoever took her. And the location and timing was high risk, too. He—or she—had to be certain he could pull it off.”

Sophia nodded. “Someone close to her.”

“Someone Haley trusted,” Evelyn said. “Because either she walked out of that school with her abductor, or she let him get close enough to subdue her without screaming.”

“Maybe she expected the person,” Quincy suggested. “Or there was more than one of them and they overpowered her.”

“Both are possible,” Evelyn agreed, “but remember, no one heard her yell for help, or any kind of struggle. So as soon as I finish reading this case file, I want to meet all the people in Haley’s life. Anyone who could have grabbed her, or might have insight into why she thought her life was in danger.”

* * *

“Bill Cooke?”

The man scowling at her from behind a screen door might have had a strong resemblance to his daughter at one time. Blond hair, now receding back to the middle of his head, faded blue eyes, heavy lines alongside his mouth that suggested once he’d had reason to smile a lot. Now, from the top of his balding head to the bottom of his muddied boots, everything about him screamed “angry.”

“Yeah.” Bill glanced from Evelyn to Sophia as they stood cramped together on the small stoop in front of his house. “What now? You haven’t found her, have you?”

“Don’t you want us to?” Evelyn asked, surprised by the tone of the question.

Bill stepped back, held the door open. “Maybe she’s better off if you don’t. I’m telling you, Haley ran away. Linda’s looking for attention, but my daughter was just trying to escape.”

“You think she ran away?” Evelyn prompted as she slid sideways past Bill and stepped through the doorway, taking in the tidy entryway tracked through with fresh mud.

They didn’t have any snow, but the ground was still near frozen. Where had Bill Cooke gone to get mud all over his boots?

“Yeah, and I’ve told that to Detective Lopez here a hundred times. Who are you? New to the police force? Don’t you people share your notes? No wonder you can’t find Haley.”

Ignoring the dig, Evelyn held out a hand as Bill stepped farther back. Sophia joined them inside, closing the heavier door behind them and shutting out the fierce wind. It may have been unusually warm over the past month, but it was still January.

“Special Agent Evelyn Baine. I’m consulting from the FBI on your daughter’s case.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Bill wrapped two work-roughened hands around hers and squeezed; she tried to remember what he did for a living.

“I appreciate the thought, Agent Baine. But my daughter is fine.”

“Have you heard from her?” Sophia asked, stepping forward slowly, and making Bill drop Evelyn’s hand and move back. Instinct when someone stepped into your personal space, and a smart way for Sophia to get farther into the house.

She’d told Evelyn that he’d never invited her inside before, instead always insisting on meeting at the police station. Evelyn had wanted to do this interview spontaneously, hoping it would change things, but she was still surprised he’d invited them in so easily. If he’d ever had Haley hidden here, it suggested he didn’t now.

“No, I haven’t heard from my daughter. And I doubt I will. At least not until she’s eighteen and she can finally be free of her mother and Linda’s new husband.” He spat out “husband” as if it was a dirty word.

Sophia stepped forward again, but this time, Bill didn’t move, just crossed his arms and stared back at her. The aggression in his eyes was barely concealed by the exasperation.

“Why are you so convinced she ran away?”

“We’ve been through this. Haley hated living in that house. Linda’s new husband is a real jerk. He resents having to deal with a teenager, treated Haley like crap.”

“How so?” Evelyn asked, hoping he’d be more willing to go through the details again if she was the one asking, instead of Sophia.

He studied her, and she could see him cataloging the details: long, dark hair, carefully knotted into a bun; light green eyes from her mother that always stood out against light brown skin, which had come from her father; prim black suit, cut too large to conceal her weapon, that made her look even smaller than she already was.

She suspected he’d be like a lot of suspects and translate “small” into “not a threat.” If he was responsible for Haley’s disappearance, though, she vowed to make him regret it.

“Haley never told me any specifics. But she made all these offhand remarks about Pete Varner that made me think...” He shuffled his feet, drawing Evelyn’s attention back to the mud on his boots, an odd contrast to the clean, tidy house.

At least what she could see of the house. The three of them were jammed into the entryway, just far enough back that Evelyn could peer into a small living room. Everything looked dust and knickknack free, but nothing had much personality. Just a dark, matched set of furniture and a big-screen TV, probably purchased after the divorce.

She wondered how much of Bill’s animosity had justification, and how much was just resentment toward his family for moving on. Then again, all she knew about Linda’s new husband, Pete Varner, was what was in the background checks Sophia had completed. Nothing had stood out, other than his job installing vending machines. A job that took him to a lot of high schools, including Haley’s. Maybe he’d seen the daughter before he’d married the mother.

“You think there was sexual abuse?” Evelyn cut straight to the point, watching Bill carefully.

His head jerked backward at the question, and he shook his head. “No, not... No. I don’t think so.”

“So what kind of abuse? Does Pete hit her?” Evelyn pressed.

“I—I don’t know. Maybe.” Bill fidgeted. “What I know is she was unhappy. What I know is she hated it there. She ran away.” He yanked his wrist up, stared at his watch, then said, “I’ve got to be somewhere soon. Call next time and I’ll come to the station.”

“This could help us locate Haley,” Evelyn started.

“You’re not asking me anything I haven’t already told Detective Lopez,” Bill responded. “And here’s the thing—I know Haley ran away. I’m not going to help you bring her back to her crazy mother and that asshole she married.”

“What if she didn’t run away?” Evelyn pushed, even as Bill got in her personal space, practically herding her out the door. “What if you’re wrong?”

She didn’t move, just tilted her head back so she could look up at Bill, who had almost a foot on her. Sophia stayed right beside her.

“I’m sure—”

“You haven’t heard from her,” Evelyn reminded him. “Which means there’s a chance someone took her. Even if there’s only a small possibility she’s in trouble, don’t you want to make sure she’s okay?”

Something shifted in Bill’s eyes, but Evelyn couldn’t be certain what she’d seen before he blinked and it was gone.

“That didn’t happen,” Bill insisted, and this time, he actually put his hand on her arm, pushing her backward. “I want you to leave.”

Evelyn pulled free of his grasp, and planted her feet farther apart. “Okay.” She peeled off a card and handed it to him. “But the FBI doesn’t usually waste their time chasing runaways. Call me if you think of anything that might help.”

She turned and headed for the door, but not before she saw him frown down at her card.

Once they were back in Sophia’s police car, Evelyn asked, “What does Bill Cooke do for a living?”

“He’s a construction foreman. Why?”

Evelyn nodded. That might explain the mud on his boots, although she still found it odd that he’d track mud through his ultraclean house to answer the door for them. Especially since he hadn’t wanted them there. But maybe he hadn’t looked through the peephole before he’d opened the door. Or he’d been so anxious to deal with them and then get rid of them he wasn’t worried about the mud. “Just curious.”

Sophia jabbed her keys into the ignition, but didn’t start it up. “Okay, I have a question, too. What do you think? Is Bill Cooke lying to us? Did he take Haley?”

Evelyn frowned at the house as they sat in the driveway. She could see the curtain move at the front of the house, as though Bill was watching them. “He’s lying. I’m not sure what about—maybe the abuse claims. But he seemed genuinely surprised—and worried—when I mentioned sexual abuse. So, it’s hard to say. I don’t think he would have let us in the house if he had Haley in there. But does he know where she is?”

She sighed, wishing there was an easy answer. “Maybe. He was quick to insist he hadn’t heard from her, but when I asked if he was positive she was okay, he looked like he wasn’t sure. Still, it is odd he’s not more worried about her condition or where she might be, who she could have run off with. That could be a sign he’s not concerned because he knows the answer. His behavior was a little contradictory.”

Sophia tapped her hands on the wheel in a frustrated thump-thump-thump, and then started up the engine. “What do we need to do so you can point us in a solid direction? I’m running in circles with this case. And if Haley’s out there somewhere, I want to bring her home.”

As she pulled out of the driveway and Evelyn watched the curtain flutter back into place in Bill’s front window, Sophia added, “And if Bill’s abuse claims are legit, I want to deal with that, too.”

“Let’s talk to Linda and Pete, then,” Evelyn said. “Profiling isn’t a Magic 8 Ball. I can’t just talk to someone for ten minutes and tell you if he did it. But once I get a better handle on all the players, I should be able to help you narrow your search.”

Sophia’s phone rang, cutting off any reply she’d been about to make. She pressed the phone to her ear as she turned onto the street. “Lopez.”

There was a pause, and although Evelyn couldn’t hear whatever was being said on the other end of the call, Sophia’s suddenly furious expression told her it was bad news.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sophia said into the phone, then gave a heavy sigh and said, “Yeah, I’ll deal with it.”

She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the console, muttering, “Un-fucking-believable.”

“What is it?”

“You wanted to meet Haley’s mom?” Sophia gunned the engine. “Let’s do that now. I’ve got some things I want to say to her myself.”

“What was the call about?” Evelyn asked, bracing her elbow against the door as Sophia took the turns out of Bill Cooke’s neighborhood too fast.

“As if that TV interview wasn’t enough, someone just posted a picture of Haley’s note online.”

“What?” Evelyn gaped at her.

“You heard me,” Sophia said. “Now the whole world knows that Haley predicted someone was going to kill her. Which means all the wackos who weren’t already calling our tip line claiming to have seen her are going to start now, claiming to have killed her.”

“And it tells everyone with an internet connection that the person who grabbed Haley Cooke is probably someone she knows,” Evelyn said.

“Yep,” Sophia agreed. “Which means whoever did it knows we could be on to him. That person could be destroying evidence as we speak. And if Haley was wrong, and someone had been keeping her alive before...”

“He might worry we’re going to start focusing on people Haley knows, and that could make him act.”

“Yeah. If Haley didn’t predict her own death before, whoever leaked that note might have just caused it.”