“Probably just as unlikely as I think it is that Eva isn’t one of the kidnapper’s victims,” I tell him. “Remember the alphabet pattern. She is E and F.”
“Gloria should be G and H,” he says. “But that didn’t stop you from thinking she wasn’t kidnapped at all.”
“Are you saying you don’t suspect Bianca at all now? Her drinking again doesn’t make you at all suspicious?”
“I don’t know what to think about her. I talked to the hospital, and they confirmed she did work that day, but she left two hours before getting to the community center to pick up Gloria. Not fifteen minutes like she told us. I don’t know where she was or what she was doing. But if Gloria fits the alphabet convention and we are still considering the possibility she wasn’t kidnapped by the same person, we have to give the same look to all the other children. That means acknowledging the chance Jimmy got out of jail early without telling his parents and came back here to take back his daughter.”
He’s extremely agitated, his words coming out short and sharp.
“What’s going on, Sam? What happened this morning?”
He looks at me for a few seconds, then picks up his phone again and pulls something up on the screen.
“I got an email,” he says.
Taking the phone from his hand, I check the sender. It’s from Vincent. There’s no subject line, but I read the message and feel a shiver move through me.
Out of town with the family, but thought you’d want to see this. If you need to meet, I’ll be back Sunday.
I scroll the message down and see he forwarded an email he received early this morning.
There’s a picture embedded directly into the body of the email. The image shows a single shoe sitting on a lonely stretch of running track and words written across it in heavy black marker like the one used on the envelopes.
Run, run, as fast as you can.
“He got another clue,” I say.
“But this one didn’t go to his house. It went to his email, which means whoever’s sending these things to him knew he was out of the house and wouldn’t find a clue if they just left it sitting there.”
“Or that the police are watching the house, and if they got near it again, they’d be seen.”
“The handwriting on the picture looks the same as the envelopes and the notes on the papers from the clues leading to Alice Brooks.”
I nod. “How about the email address? The one that forwarded this to Vincent?”
“It doesn’t have a name attached to it. There aren’t any details. The last two times we got clues; they were connected to the children in order of them going missing. First Alice and then Caleb.”
“So, the next clue should be for Eva,” I say.
“But look at that shoe. That doesn’t belong to a ten-year-old girl. It’s a guy’s shoe. It’s hard to tell how big it is because the picture is so close up, but that definitely doesn’t belong to her.”
“And it being so close up means we can’t tell where it is, either,” I point out. “Look at the message again. ‘Run, run as fast as you can.’ Maybe it’s still about Caleb? He didn’t die. This guy is arrogant. By the time we got to Alice, she had been dead for days. She was already dead by the time he sent the note. So, he decided to up the fun a little for Caleb and make it a race. He didn’t think we’d figure it out and find him still alive. Maybe he intends on making sure he doesn’t stay that way.”
“We need to go talk to Kendra. She’s probably at the hospital. She’s been staying in the family house next door so she can be as close as possible.”
“I’ll get dressed.”
I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear as I pull on my jeans. It rings three times before the line picks up.
“Hey, Emma. I was wondering why I haven’t heard from you. How’s Sherwood?” Eric answers.
“I’ve seen it in better condition. I need you to do something for me. I’m going to forward you an email. It’s a forward of another email. Can you find out who sent the original?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Thanks. Is everything okay there?”
“Everything’s fine. Your house is still standing and being watched. Creagan is bouncing back and forth between raging against you being insubordinate again to you being the pride of the department depending on who he’s talking to.”
“Well, that will be fun to deal with when I get back.” I pull the phone away from my face long enough to drop a shirt down over my head. “I’ll call you soon.”
I end the call as I head back into the living room and have Sam forward the email to Eric. I don’t hold out a tremendous amount of hope it will be as easy as finding the guy’s name attached to the email address, but I have to at least try.
* * *
Kendra is sitting in the exact same place she was the last time we saw her. The only thing that’s changed is her clothing. She’s still holding Caleb’s hand, and he’s still lying still on the bed, looking small and vulnerable. She looks up when we walk in, and her expression is a mix of happiness to see us and the instinctual concern that rises up in a mother when she knows something isn’t right.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Kendra, I need you to look at something and tell me if you recognize it,” Sam starts.
She nods her agreement, and Sam takes out his phone. He zooms into the image of the shoe and holds it out to Kendra. Stares at it for only a second before shaking her head.
“I don’t recognize it. That doesn’t belong to Caleb.”
“You’re sure?” he asks. “Caleb wasn’t wearing any shoes when we found him.”
“Yes, Sheriff. I know my son’s clothes. His shoes might be missing, but that’s not one of them. Did this come from the kidnapper?”
“We think so,” I say.
“You think he’s going to come after my baby again.”
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Sam says. “This just came up, and we’re just trying to cover all the bases we can.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Caleb is safe here. You’re here to watch over him, and the staff will take care of him. Let us handle the rest.”
We start out of the room, and I look to Sam. “You need to station officers around the hospital. Not just in the parking lot. Inside, preferably on this floor. They need to watch for any visitors who aren’t readily recognizable as Caleb’s family.”
Sam nods, but a desperate scream takes the words he was about to say out of his mouth.
“Help me! Someone, please help me!”
We run toward the sound and see Bianca at the door to the elevator; a little girl draped over her shoulder.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Bianca!” Sam shouts and runs toward her.
Her eyes are wild as she looks at him. He gets to her and rests a hand on the girl’s back.
“She just showed up at home,” Bianca says. “I work a later shift today, and when I was leaving for work, she just stumbled up into the yard and collapsed. Oh, god. What if I had my regular shift? What if I hadn’t been there when she got there?”
She turns her sobbing face into Gloria’s neck.
“Why didn’t you bring her to the emergency room?” Sam asks.
“She’s safer in the children’s wing. The ER has doors that open right to the outside. What if he comes looking for her?”
It’s the type of logic that only makes sense because of the situation, but we aren’t going to argue with her. A doctor runs up, and she hands Gloria over to him. The little girl groans, and her eyes flutter open.