MARK KANE MYSTERIES

BOOK FIVE

MISSING

Copyright © 2015 by John Hemmings

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by MKM Enterprises

Cover by Octagon

Special thanks to Kanell Speirs for her helpful advice & editorial assistance

Table of Contents

About the Author

THE MARK KANE MYSTERIES SERIES...SO FAR

FULL CHAPTER HEADINGS

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Book Six

A Word from the Author

Book One: Forget Me Not

Book Two: Ice

Book Three: The Black Widow

Book Four: Till Death

Book Five: Missing

Book Six: I Spy

Book Seven: A Tangled Web

About the Author

John Hemmings is a lawyer and writer of crime fiction with a one hundred percent record - none of his clients have been executed...yet! Some of his stories are suggested by cases he has been involved with, but some of the names have been changed to protect the innocent - or sometimes the guilty!

Each of his books features Boston private investigator Mark Kane, or simply Kane as he is known to most people, and his longtime companion Lucy - a slightly oddball couple with a somewhat unconventional relationship.

"I write for enjoyment - the sort of books that I hope have broad appeal in the mystery/detective genre; the kind of books I like to read myself - and as a family man I write for all ages - the sex private (even private eyes like a bit of privacy!), the language tempered. Take a look at those movies from the thirties and forties: Edward G. Robinson, Cagney, Bogart. The lack of strong language didn't take away anything from the air of menace those guys exuded. Of course, they wouldn't have talked like that in real life; but then a movie or a novel is not 'real life'.

"I have used my experience to make the stories as authentic as possible, although these books are intended as entertainments, so a little 'poetic license' is sometimes necessary. As for 'character development', this is a series told in real time. While each book is a standalone story, as my readers progress through the books more is gradually revealed about my protagonist and his sidekick. My readers sometimes ask me what Kane & Lucy look like; but as to their physical appearance well, that's the beauty of books over movies - they look just like each reader imagines they look."

Find out more or contact the author at http://johnhemmings.net/contact

THE MARK KANE MYSTERIES SERIES...SO FAR

‘Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated’ − Alphonse de Lamartine

For Catherine & Glen

FULL CHAPTER HEADINGS

Chapter One: Panic

Chapter Two: A Double Celebration

Chapter Three: The Cat and the Client

Chapter Four: A Free Sprit

Chapter Five: Springfield

Chapter Six: Jacky

Chapter Seven: Tommy

Chapter Eight: Jillian

Chapter Nine: The Tape

Chapter Ten: Regenerators

Chapter Eleven: Go Forth and Multiply

Chapter Twelve: The Best Laid Plans

Chapter Thirteen: A New Development

Chapter Fourteen: Clinton

Chapter Fifteen: Vicky

Chapter Sixteen: The Moment of Truth

Chapter Seventeen: The Red Market

Chapter Eighteen: The Awakening

Chapter Nineteen: The Crombies

Chapter Twenty: A Fruitless Search

Chapter Twenty One: Epiphany

Chapter Twenty Two: The Girl in the Basement

Chapter Twenty Three: The Escape

Chapter Twenty Four: The Ranch House

Chapter Twenty Five: Dr. Fooks

Chapter Twenty Six: Charlie

Chapter Twenty Seven: Bad News

Chapter Twenty Eight: The House on Farm Road

Chapter Twenty Nine: Honorary Scouts

Chapter Thirty: The Complaint

A Word from the Author

Mark Kane Mysteries Series

Book One: Forget Me Not

Book Two: Ice

Book Three: The Black Widow

Book Four: Till Death

Book Five: Missing

Book Six: I Spy

Book Seven: A Tangled Web

Preface

In writing this series I think it only fair to acknowledge my debt to that master of the detective genre, Raymond Chandler. Whilst I could never hope to produce narratives of such accomplishment, nor produce such a memorable hero as Philip Marlowe, in writing this series of novels I have nevertheless tried to be true to Mr. Chandler’s concept of what a private detective novel should comprise. I have adopted his famous guidelines, not simply because I admire him as a peerless writer of private detective crime fiction but because I believe they truly encapsulate everything that a good crime novel should be, namely:

It should be credibly motivated, both as to the original situation and the dénouement.

It should be technically sound as to the methods of murder and detection.

It should be realistic in character, setting and atmosphere. It must be about real people in a real world.

It should have a sound story value apart from the mystery element: i.e., the investigation itself must be an adventure worth reading.

It should have enough essential simplicity to be explained easily when the time comes.

It must baffle a reasonably intelligent reader.

The solution must seem inevitable once revealed.

It should not try to do everything at once. If it is a puzzle story operating in a rather cool, reasonable atmosphere, it cannot also be a violent adventure or a passionate romance.

It must punish the criminal in one way or another; not necessarily by operation of the law, but if the detective fails to resolve the consequences of the crime, the story is an unresolved chord and leaves irritation behind it.

It must be honest with the reader.

As for the hero, Chandler also had firm views. The morality of the detective is paramount. In his essay, ‘The Simple Art of Murder’, he wrote: ‘Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective in this kind of story must be such a man. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor – by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world’.

If Mr. Chandler were alive today it is doubtful that he would be impressed by my clumsy attempts at writing crime fiction, but I hope he would be satisfied with my attempts to carry on a fine tradition.

Chapter One

Panic

Although the moon was full, a thick blanket of cloud and driving rain filtered the light into no more than a faint, misty glow as the girl broke out of the huckleberry scrub and ran stumbling across the meadow. She was dressed in dark-blue jeans, a black T-shirt and trainers, all sodden by the relentless rain. An observer close enough to the girl would have been able to make out the words she was breathlessly whispering urgently to herself as she ran.

“Keep going…don’t stop…careful, watch out…don’t fall…don’t look back…keep going…”

The ground beneath her feet was uneven, and the coppery glow of the bluestems, the subtle purple of the alfalfa and the dark green crab-grass had been reduced to no more than dark shadows by the overcast night sky. As she ran she tried to avoid the clumpy knolls of big bluestem, but her eyes were focused on a line of trees about a thousand yards ahead of her. She was panting heavily and a sharp pain was gnawing inside her chest, but the sight of the distant trees gave renewed impetus to her flight. As she tried to calculate how long it would take her to reach the relative sanctuary of the woods she momentarily lost concentration and she stumbled and fell onto her knees, her outstretched hands breaking her fall.

For a few moments she stayed on all-fours, listening for sounds of pursuit; but the only sound was the steady beating of the rain on the brush and the noise of her own breathing as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. She stood, bent forward, her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. Then she stood upright and brushed her long dark hair back with both hands, leaving muddy streaks across her forehead. She started to run again, muttering whispered words of encouragement to herself.

*

It was almost an hour since Catherine and Glen Crombie had left the highway to escape a massive backup caused by a traffic accident. A truck had jack-knifed and they had a distant view of flashing lights and the emergency workers surrounding the stricken vehicle, the pale, milky moonlight glistening on their yellow oilskins. Glen had taken an almost instant decision and executed a U-turn across the median, located an exit ramp and then doubled back along a small road which appeared to run alongside the highway, but gradually veered away from it. Neither of them had any idea where they were headed now and scant idea of the direction in which they were traveling. The ageing Ford didn’t have the luxury of a GPS and the radio was broken. The situation was not conducive to friendly chitchat.

“We should’ve stayed on the highway,” Catherine said. “At least we knew where we were back then.”

“We’d have been there hours Cath, probably all night.”

“We’ve been driving for almost an hour now, and we don’t even know where we’re going.”

“At least we’re moving.”

“Maybe we should pull over, take a look at the map.”

“We don’t have a map,” Glen said. “I didn’t think we were going to need one.”

“Maybe you should leave the thinking up to me in future,” Catherine said. “I don’t know why we even bothered to leave tonight. We already knew the weather was going to be dreadful.”

“You know I have to be at the quarterly meeting tomorrow afternoon,” Glen said. “This trip has been a disaster – a washout in more ways than one. They’re going to want an explanation. Unless I can come up with a satisfactory one I could be out of a job by the end of the month.”

“Well for God’s sake, if we see a motel, any motel, let’s stop for the night. The place we passed a few miles back would’ve been okay.”

“Okay, the next one.”

Glen was a salesman of universal joints and couplings for an engineering company in Arkansas. He’d been a salesman all his life. He prided himself that he could sell pretty much anything to pretty much anybody so long as the product was well-manufactured and competitively priced; but in the final analysis a salesman was only as good as the products he sold.

There was no internet and no emails when Glen started out. Back in the day it was all about the personal touch. He’d been successful for much of his career because his customers knew they could trust him. There was no bull – if the quality of the products he sold wasn’t as good as those of his competitors he didn’t pretend otherwise. Good salesmanship was often about compromise – there were factors other than product quality to consider: a combination of price, reliability, fitness for purpose and the assurance that the contract would be fulfilled exactly as promised. He’d built a reputation with his clients based on mutual trust. He’d personally oversee the execution of his contracts and act as trouble-shooter if any problems arose later. But things were different now. Glib young salesmen with no principles sold products to unsuspecting customers that were often unsuitable for the job. The growth of the internet had extended the reach of companies like the one that employed him now. It was all about sales volume, cutting corners, getting a fix. He wasn’t encouraged to meet his customers anymore − that took up too much valuable time.

This assignment had been different though. He’d been sent to Iowa to try and salvage a contract that had been dealt with by another salesman. The product the customer had agreed to purchase simply wasn’t suitable for its intended purpose without a significant adjustment which would make the deal uneconomic. Glen had been sent to try and sort out the mess even though it wasn’t his client. There was no valid argument to counter the customer’s complaint so Glen had been told to reach a compromise by negotiating a reduction in price for the components; even if he had to negotiate a price that cut their profit margin to next-to-nothing he must ensure that the contract was saved. But when Glen saw the detailed specifications for the job he knew the product simply wasn’t suitable – at any price – and he wasn’t prepared to sacrifice his integrity to pretend otherwise; so the contract would be cancelled. Glen doubted if the new head of sales, a young college graduate with zero experience in salesmanship, knew how to spell the word integrity.

The road was dark, lined by woodland on either side, and there was little illumination from the moon. Sheets of rain, leaves, small twigs and other debris were being driven into the windshield by gusts of wind and visibility on the road ahead was poor.

*

As the girl reached the edge of the trees she stopped again. The canopy of branches and leaves had prevented much of the rain from soaking the ground and she winced as she stepped on a twig; the sound of it breaking made her freeze. She looked back across the meadow. There was no sound other than the rain beating against the leaves above her and no sign of pursuit. It was hard to tell how far she’d come, and she had no watch to tell her how long she’d been running. The woodland was quite dense and so she moved forward warily. It was dark and she was afraid to fall. She continued at a fast walking pace, peering in front of her to try and gauge what lay ahead.

The pain in her chest gradually subsided as she walked, and her renewed confidence encouraged her to jog between the trees, but her legs felt like jelly and she slowed to a walk again. Then ahead she saw a light. Was it a house? No, it was moving. It was a vehicle. There was a road ahead. The light disappeared from view. As she pressed forward she peered through the trees trying to catch another glimpse of light, but there was none. It was late, and the heavy rain had probably kept most people indoors, she thought. But it was a road. Somebody would come eventually. Somebody would help her.

After several minutes she reached the edge of the woods and by the dim light of the moon she could see the rain glistening on the tarmac. She walked to the side of the road. She looked in both directions but could see no lights; but there was no point in going any further − across the road were more trees. She walked a few paces back to the trees behind her to get some cover from the rain, and after a few minutes she saw some lights heading towards her from the left. She stepped forward to the edge of the road and started waving frantically. She was wearing dark clothes – would the driver be able to see her? The car seemed to slow as it came towards her. She stepped out into the road waving her hands in front of her.

*

They’d left the city just before six and had intended to stop for a rest and something to eat on the way. Glen was getting hungry now and the concentration needed as he drove through the rain and darkness was making him tired. Catherine had fallen asleep beside him. Many years before he’d briefly nodded off while driving. He’d simply tried to drive too far and for too long. He’d been on his own in the car on that occasion and had veered off the road. He’d been aware of being tired and had lowered the windows to let in some air, but he fell asleep anyway. Fortunately, he’d awoken almost instantly as his car bounced off a guard rail at the side of the road, but the memory of what might have been a fatal accident had never left him. He was older now and he didn’t want to take a risk. He slowed the vehicle, took a deep breath and pressed ahead. He had seen no sign of habitation for miles and hadn’t even glimpsed tail lights ahead or headlights behind him. But as he slowed he saw a shadow move out of the trees and onto the road. It was directly in his path, not two hundred feet ahead. His foot hit the brake hard and the car veered to the left. He could feel the rear end of the old Packard swinging round as he tried to straighten the car and prevent it from skidding, but he was on the shadow before he could stop.

She heard the sound of the car braking, and a sudden rush of relief swept over her. And then the car was almost on top of her. As she tried to step back out of its path she was momentarily aware of the car turning sideways and then an intense blow to her hip threw her into the air. Then she felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing.

As the offside of the car side-swiped the girl the loud bang woke Catherine up. Glen’s car came to a stop, the silence broken only by an exclamation from Catherine.

“What the hell was that?” she said.

Chapter Two

A Double Celebration

“What are you going to wear for the wedding?”

I was lying supine on my recliner nursing a medium-sized hangover and was feeling a bit under the weather. For a split second I was seized by blind panic. I had scant memory of last evening and it briefly occurred to me that in my inebriated state I might have inadvertently proposed to Lucy, or she to me. This thought probably lasted no more than a millisecond but it was enough to bring me round. I sat up; the relief was palpable.

“It’s not for more than six weeks,” I said, “so I haven’t really given it a lot of thought. We only got the invitation yesterday morning.”

Lucy was referring to the wedding of Jenny and Jamie – the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Ribac. They were former clients of mine. It was to be a spring wedding.

“You’ll have to buy something. There’s nothing suitable in your closet.”

“I thought I might go disguised as a nineteen thirties’ private detective – you know, just for a bit of fun,” I said.

Lucy stood in front of me, arms akimbo. “I hope you’re not going to embarrass me.”

“You started it,” I said.

“Started what?”

“With those movie posters you decided to decorate the office with.”

“They lend a certain panache to the place, don’t you think?” Lucy said.

“Shouldn’t you be there,” I said, “in case a potential client drops in?”

“It’s not necessary – there’s a sign on the door which says ‘by appointment only’.”

“Highly organized,” I said. “No doubt you’ve had a price list printed as well.”

“No, but I have been reviewing your advertising policy; or rather the lack of one. I’m considering a website.”

I groaned inwardly but smiled sweetly to pacify her. I sensed that she was in a potentially critical or even argumentative frame of mind, so I decided to err on the safe side. “I can’t wait,” I said, with what I thought was mild enthusiasm; but Lucy had apparently picked up on an undertone of insincerity.

“Rather than drinking myself into oblivion,” she said.

“It was a rare indulgence to celebrate a special occasion.”

The arms were still akimbo, the expression challenging. “What special occasion?” she said, somewhat impatiently.

“The anniversary of the birth of MK Investigations,” I said, lying through my teeth.

“Well if you carry on like that it’ll be the last anniversary,” she said. “Anyway, you never told me.”

“I thought it would be a date etched in your memory,” I said. I should have known better; I should have let it go.

“It’s February,” she said. “You started your business in October – I should know, I was there.”

“It’s like the Queen of England,” I said. “I have two celebrations each year – one for the actual birthday and one for the official one.”

“Is that true? Does the Queen really have two birthdays?” she said.

“So I’m told. And being an admirer of the English monarchy my following suit is by way of showing respect to an old established tradition.”

“So she must be about a hundred and seventy,” she said, thoughtfully.

Lucy had wandered off into my kitchen and was opening drawers and doors in a fruitless search for something to prepare for lunch.

“It’s two celebrations for the same birthday,” I said. “You don’t count it twice.”

“If there was an award for talking gibberish you’d be at the front of the line,” she called over to me. “You need to do some shopping.”

She came back into the living room and settled herself on the sofa. “I’ve decided to become a vegetarian,” she said. “I think that would be good for you too. It apparently helps to unclog the arteries and detoxifies the body. It’s particularly recommended for those approaching middle age,” she said, looking me straight in the eye.

“Lucy, if God had intended us to be vegetarians he wouldn’t have given us incisors – or cows.”

“You could still have milk,” she said, “and cheese. And alcohol,” she added, in an attempt to lure me into submission.

“Nope. But we’ll compromise,” I said. “I’ll eat vegetarian food if I come to your place; how’s that?”

“Well I think you should try it for a while. Janey’s been a vegetarian for six months now and she says it’s completely reinvigorated her – she feels years younger.”

She didn’t look years younger the last time I saw her, I thought, but I kept the thought to myself.

“Each to his or her own,” I said. “You’ll soon get tired of it. I suppose you know that cows have four stomachs in order to digest their vegetarian diet? Nature hasn’t designed us to be vegetarians.”

“Nature didn’t design us to be intoxicated on a regular basis,” she said.

I decided to change the subject. “Now what’s the plan of action for this afternoon – apart from shopping?” I said.

“We’ve got two insurance jobs. Obviously even I can’t be in two places at once so I suggest we do one each.”

“Or we could split them between you and either Tony or June,” I said. “That would free me up in case a meaty investigation comes along.”

Tony and June Scipio were freelancers who did most of my routine surveillance work.

“Tony or June can be standbys,” Lucy said. “If a meaty investigation manifests itself one of them can take over your surveillance. We can start tomorrow.”

Insurance surveillance was what paid the office rent every month. The work usually involved keeping tabs on personal injury claimants who asserted that they couldn’t work or play sports or, on some occasions, couldn’t even leave home because of some debilitating injury. It involved making copious notes and taking photographs and video footage of the unsuspecting claimant, sometimes over a period of several days. It was tedious and often mind-numbingly boring. Very few cases ever resulted in litigation. If the subject was proved to be lying, the claim would usually be withdrawn. If the claimant was found to be exaggerating, then a compromised settlement could be achieved. Even in dubious cases both sides would be anxious to avoid the cost of going to court.

Fortunately, I’d never been involved in a case where I was called upon to testify, but I’d occasionally had sight of the expert medical reports which were prepared pending litigation. It always surprised me that two medical experts on opposing sides could examine the same patient and come to diametrically opposed opinions as to the effect or extent of an injury. Alleged whiplash injuries arising from traffic accidents were a common complaint, because the doctors had to rely on the claimant’s own account of the symptoms since most injuries of that nature are soft tissue injuries, invisible to the probes of x-rays and magnetic resonance imagers.

“I’ll have to see,” I said. “There may be some urgent paperwork I need to do. In fact, I just remembered that I’ve got a few important calls I need to make this afternoon, so I was wondering whether you could perhaps do my shopping for me as well as your own. You could put any meat products into a separate bag to avoid contamination of your own purchases.”

“If I do your shopping I’ll only buy things that I consider to be good for you – you do realize that of course?” Lucy said, raising her eyebrows at me.

“I consider that an added bonus,” I said, in an attempt to take some of the wind from her sails. “And as for lunch, why don’t we go to your place and you can cook any meat or fish you may have left over pending the commencement of your new diet. I spotted some sea bass in your refrigerator yesterday.”

Lucy got up with a look of detached resignation. “Come on then – and you’d better bring your cell phone so that you can make some of your ‘urgent calls’ while I prepare lunch,” she said with more than mild sarcasm.

Chapter Three

The Cat and the Client

We were eating our lunch when the call came through.

“Kane,” I said.

“Is that Mr. Kane, the private investigator?” a rather quiet voice said.

“Yes, it is. How may I help you?” I said, grinning at Lucy and pointing triumphantly at my cell phone.

“You’ve been recommended to me by the police, Mr. Kane. I’m told you’re the best there is. My teenage daughter’s missing and the police haven’t made any progress in their investigation. The case is likely to take at least a week I should think, possibly longer, and it will involve some traveling; would you be free for that period? The matter’s an urgent one – my daughter’s been missing for almost two weeks.” There were labored pauses between each sentence. It was the voice of a tired, elderly man.

“I’ve just wrapped up an investigation,” I said, “so I’ll be able to give it my full attention. Shall we make an appointment for me to come and see you?”

“Yes…please. As soon as you possibly can.”

“Tomorrow morning,” I said. “Perhaps you can give me your address; and your name.”

“Yes of course, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I’ve been under a considerable amount of stress recently.” The voice was weak, the speech wheezy. “My name’s Roberts, Dean Roberts and I live in Beacon Hill.” He recited his address and I wrote it down. “If it’s more convenient I can come to your office,” he said, coughing slightly. He didn’t sound well enough to travel to my office; or anywhere else for that matter.

“Because of the nature of the investigation I’ll no doubt need some photographs and perhaps other documents relating to your daughter. I think it would be preferable to meet at your home. Once I have more details I can let you know exactly what I shall need. I’d better let you have my fees; they’ll be a thousand a day and…”

“There’s no need for that. I’m assured you’re the best and that’s what I want − what I need.” There was a pause. It sounded as if he was trying to catch his breath. “How early can you come?”

“Would nine o’clock be suitable?”

“Thank you…until tomorrow then.”

“We’re back in business,” I said to Lucy after I hung up. “Sounds like a meaty case – it involves traveling and will last at least a week.”

“I may as well shelve the shopping for the time being then,” Lucy said. “Traveling to where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Am I coming to the meeting tomorrow?” she said.

“Provided you behave; I don’t want any more of that head and tail stuff – it’s probably all over the Twin Cities by now.” Lucy tried to kick me under the table but I was out of range.

“So it’s good news for Tony and June again,” she said. “What’s the case about?”

“A missing daughter,” I said. “Missing for several weeks – the police have come up blank. Apparently someone in the department recommended me. Mr. Roberts, the client, says money’s no object, or words to that effect. He lives in Beacon Hill, so I guess he’s pretty well-heeled. He didn’t sound at all well, though.”

“I wonder where we’ll be going; maybe to some exotic foreign location. I hope it’s somewhere warm,” she said.

“I’m not taking a vegetarian with me,” I said.

“Oh, that can wait until we get back,” she said. “It’s not an urgent thing. Since we’ve got a client to pay the expenses this time we’ll be able to stay somewhere half-decent, instead of those crappy places we stayed in on the last trip.”

“I think basic rather than crappy would be a fairer description,” I said. “And your instant abandonment of your proposed new lifestyle shows a degree of fickleness in my opinion.”

“I haven’t abandoned it – I’ve just postponed it,” Lucy said. “If we’re going to the Bible belt we’ll probably have to have separate rooms. I’ve heard they frown on unmarried couples sharing hotel rooms down there.”

“Especially non-couples,” I said. “I think you’ll find those somewhat anachronistic views have mellowed in recent times, but I’ll tell you something – when my parents first visited New York as a married couple back in the sixties they stayed in the Y. In those days they didn’t just have separate rooms for men and women, they had separate floors – and that included married couples. So my folks had to stay on different floors and call each other when they wanted to meet.”

“Get outa here.”

“For real,” I said.

“It’s a good job they didn’t have to stay there long or Duncan might not have been born,” Lucy said.

“My parents always maintained that Duncan was conceived at a drive-in. Maybe a similar set of circumstances with your parents explains your love of movies; did that ever occur to you?”

“No it didn’t,” she said, prissily. “And if it had happened like that it’s not the sort of thing my parents would have told me about.”

Lucy started to clear away the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “It’s funny how things work out just when you least expect them to, isn’t it?” she said.

“That’s probably why I allowed myself to run out of food,” I said. “It must’ve been like a sixth sense. Somehow I knew that this was going to happen and that I’d be going away.”

“Or maybe it was just laziness on your part.”

“I prefer my theory to yours,” I said.

“So what kind of things do we need to discuss with the client tomorrow?” Lucy said. “I’d like to take part in the discussion so that he doesn’t think I’m just some kind of decorative menial.”

“I’m sure nobody would ever form that impression, Lucy. The first thing we need to establish is whether she’s missing voluntarily or not. I don’t know how old his daughter is yet – Roberts sounded quite elderly − but he said she’s a teenager so she may simply have decided to fly the nest. You remember Prudence?”

“Brad’s daughter? Yes of course. I wonder if she’s still around.”

“Well let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that she’s a girl in her late teens, and that there’s some evidence that she hasn’t absented herself voluntarily. From what he told me I assume that he has some notion of where she might be or he wouldn’t have said that travel was necessary. I also assume that he knows her last point of contact, and that’s where we’ll have to begin the search. No doubt the local police in wherever that is have already made comprehensive enquiries. They’ll have checked the local hospitals within a certain radius and they’ve probably checked whether she’s accessed her bank account or used her credit cards. Probably they’ve interviewed her known friends and contacts. She may be at college or she may have been working away from home before she disappeared. So those are the general sort of things we’ll need to find out, but it really depends on what he tells us tomorrow.”

“But if the police have carried out all these investigations already do you think there’s much chance of us finding her? I mean thousands of kids go missing every year,” Lucy said.

“Tens of thousands, actually; but the vast majority go missing of their own accord. If this is such a case then our chances are slim − she would have covered her tracks, probably told her friends not to give any information to the police and so on. But if she’s been abducted, for example, there’ll likely be something that the police have overlooked. The problem with this kind of case is the delay – if Roberts had come to me earlier then the chances of finding her would have been substantially increased. Still, it’s no good crying over spilled milk.”

“God, you don’t think she’s dead, do you?” Lucy said.

“That’s obviously a possibility. I certainly hope not. If she’s been abducted and there’s been no contact from her abductor it certainly wouldn’t look good – but on the other hand the police inquiry obviously hasn’t thrown up any reason to expect the worst. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.”

“It’s a pity the client isn’t coming to the office,” Lucy said. “I’ve worked so hard getting everything right and nobody’s been there yet.”

“Except the woman who lost her cat,” I said.

“Oh yes, except her.”

“How did that go?”

“She thinks it’s been kidnapped.”

“Or catnapped,” I said. “Did she receive a ransom note then?”

“No, of course not.” Lucy giggled. “She didn’t mean it like that. She meant she thought it had been taken on purpose, rather than just wandering off or been run down or something.”

“Did she check the local ethnic restaurants,” I said. “The French eat horses and the Chinese eat dogs. I expect cats are a delicacy in some places.”

“Oh that’s horrible,” Lucy said. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“I don’t really understand the attraction of cats,” I said. “I mean they don’t come when they’re called and you can’t take them for walks or play fetch. They just disappear all day and all night and only show up when they’re hungry. And they’re not even useful to society. I mean they don’t use cats to sniff out drugs at the airport or to run down criminals. And did you ever hear of a seeing-eye cat?”

“People like them because they’re cute and independent, and they don’t need so much attention as dogs; and they catch vermin.”

“If you’re unlucky enough to have any vermin,” I said.

“And actually there is such a thing as a seeing-eye cat, or at least there was,” Lucy said. “I read about it in Life Magazine recently. It was called Baby and it won an award back in nineteen forty-seven.”

“You’re a mine of information, Lucy, of that there can be no doubt. Not always terribly useful information, but…”

“It’s as useful as knowing that a cow’s got four stomachs,” Lucy said tetchily, “if that’s even true.”

“Now then, more importantly we’re going to need someone in the office while we’re away. Can you fix that? Maybe Brenda can help out again – she knows the ropes. And she’ll only be looking after us this time so she’ll be free to do her assignments, or whatever they call them, for most of the time.”

“I’ll give her a call this afternoon,” Lucy said. “And I’ll brief Tony and June about the surveillance, assuming they’re free.”

“They better be – I don’t want to turn the work away,” I said. “Assuming everything goes to plan we’ll see the client in the morning and head off to wherever it is in the afternoon or evening. So we better eat out this evening.”

“No we’ll eat here,” Lucy said. “I’ve got something special for tonight.”

“Meow?” I said.

Chapter Four

A Free Sprit

The house on the flat of Beacon Hill was a beauty. It was a triple-decker row house dating from the mid-nineteenth century. They knew how to design houses in those days. The house was of dark red brick and it was almost as if some of the color from the house had been washed off over countless years onto the sidewalk, which was a pale shade of pink. On the left-hand side were three steps up to the front door between Greek columns supporting a portico. To the right of the entrance were two casement windows and the second and third floors each sported three of the same. Each of the windows was flanked by black shutters, and the entire frontage was liberally covered in Boston ivy.

I rang the door-bell and an elegantly dressed, rather slim middle-aged man opened the door within a few moments. He didn’t proffer his hand to shake. Instead he said:

“I’m Timpson; Mr. Roberts will be pleased to see you – may I take your coats?”

We disrobed and Timpson indicated that we should proceed upstairs. At the foot of the staircase was an electric chair lift with the seat folded back. At the top of the stairs we were led into a large sitting room at the front of the house. Inside was a stone mantel beneath which there was a log fire, but the logs weren’t lit. Between the fireplace and one of the casement windows, seated in a wing chair, was Mr. Roberts. Next to the chair was an oxygen tank to which a regulator was attached, and from this a thin clear plastic tube snaked up to Roberts’ face where it was secured to his septum by an opaque piece of sticky tape. He was perhaps seventy years old, I guessed, thin and rather gaunt. There was little color in his face and his cheeks were hollow. The lower part of his body was concealed by a rug, and a shawl was draped over his shoulders.

“Ah Kane,” he said. “Please come in. Do sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Now then, would you care for some tea?”

Lucy and I nodded in unison. “That would be very nice,” I said.

Roberts nodded in the direction of Timpson who disappeared soundlessly from the room.

I took the proffered hand which Roberts held out to greet me. It was thin and bony and almost as cold as ice, but the grip was surprisingly strong.

“You’ll have to excuse me I’m afraid.” he said, as Lucy and I took our places on a plum-red chesterfield sofa which was angled to face his chair. “I have to take my time.” He indicated the oxygen tank by making a slight open-palmed gesture in its direction. “I have emphysema I’m afraid.”

“We have as much time as you need, Mr. Roberts,” I said. I introduced him to Lucy to whom he smiled and nodded.

“Well it’s good of you both to come, especially at such short notice. Timpson has placed some photographs of my daughter in the envelope on the coffee table in front of you. There are probably far more than you need – I got a bit carried away. Still you may take the ones you feel will be most useful to you. Her name’s Marisa.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I said, picking up the envelope and extracting a dozen or so photographs from it. I looked briefly at the photographs before handing them to Lucy. In the photographs I saw a slim, pretty girl in her late teens. She had an elfin face, eyes the color of an arctic sky, small features and was about five feet four or five I guessed. Her dark brown hair was parted slightly off-center and hung loosely over her shoulders. In the majority of the photographs she had a warm and friendly smile. In each of the photographs she had the appearance of someone who didn’t have a care in the world.

“She’s my only daughter,” Roberts said; “my only child. She turned nineteen in the fall.”

“Perhaps you can tell us the circumstances of her disappearance,” I said.

“Let me tell you first something about myself and then something about my relationship with Marisa,” he said. “I’m an old man now,” he said, “although not as old as I appear.” He smiled weakly. “I was fifty when Marisa was born; I had a rather late marriage. I’m the product of several generations of accumulated wealth and it was expected of me to join the family business when I came of age. I won’t bore you with the nature of the business except to say it’s to do with mining. It wasn’t a business in which I had any interest – I’d rather hoped for an academic career of some sort, or perhaps something in the arts, but it wasn’t to be. By the age of twenty five I was effectively at the helm of the company and I had little time for socializing or doing the sort of things that most young men want to do at that age.” Roberts paused and reached out for a glass of water on a small table beside his chair; he took a sip before continuing. “But by my late forties I was able to find a little more time for myself and I’d always wanted a child − not as a means of carrying on the Roberts’ dynasty; quite the contrary, in fact.” Roberts paused again, taking two or three slow but deep breaths. “I was blessed with a beautiful daughter, but I’m afraid the marriage didn’t last long. My wife left me for a gigolo, y’know?” He laughed, mainly to himself, and it resulted in a minor fit of coughing. He reached for the water again, and kept the glass in his hand. “It wasn’t unexpected and no great loss. And the gigolo only stuck around as long as the divorce settlement lasted – which wasn’t long, I assure you. So I brought up Marisa by myself and she transformed the next two decades of my life into a time of peace, harmony and happiness.”

“And do I take it then that your relationship with your daughter was without problems? When teenagers disappear from their homes it’s often as a result of a yearning to be free of the constraints that they may feel the family life has imposed,” I said.

“Marisa and I have always had a close and loving bond; she describes me as her father, her mentor and her best friend. Because of my own straight-jacketed life I always made it clear to her that she must have the freedom to do and be whatever she chooses.”

Timpson appeared with the tea on a silver tray which he placed on the table in front of us. He poured some tea into a delicate china cup and placed the cup and saucer next to Roberts.

“Thank you Timpson,” he said. “I expect Kane and Lucy here would rather see to themselves.” Timpson nodded and silently withdrew.

“I should have asked whether you’d have preferred something else…coffee perhaps?” he said.

“No, not at all,” Lucy said. “What kind of tea is it? I’m afraid I’m a bit of a dunce.”

“It’s Lapsang Souchong, a Chinese tea originally from Fujian Province. It has a slightly smoky flavor which isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s one of the great teas in my opinion. You’ll have noticed that Timpson lacks an honorific, Kane – like you prefer yourself, I understand? I’m going to let you into a little secret,” he said, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice as if imparting a confidence. “Although Timpson’s been with me for several years now I’ve never asked him what his first name is.”

I laughed. “Well mine’s not a secret” I said, smiling and rising from my seat to hand him my own and Lucy’s business cards, “as you can see. It’s just how most people refer to me, and I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Well let me continue. I’m a Harvard man, like my father and grandfather before me, and I’d like Marisa to have a good college education too if it’s what she wants. But she’s always been free to make her own choices, and as yet she hasn’t decided for certain what she wants to do, except that she wants an occupation that serves the community in some way. Last summer she completed a year-long course as a Licensed Practical Nurse, vocational nursing as it’s known in some states; came top of her class as a matter of fact, which didn’t surprise me. When she sets her mind on something she has a single-minded determination to be the best. But before she commits to a degree course in nursing she wants to be sure she’s made the right choice. There’s no rush; she knows that whatever her choice in life I will accept and support it. She’s had a rather privileged life from a material point of view but the pursuit of money doesn’t interest her. Like so many youngsters she’s still finding her feet. We’ve always had a close and loving relationship, and although she’s something of a free spirit and has a determined and independent streak, there is no way she’d simply disappear by choice.”

Roberts sipped his tea. “How is it?” he said to Lucy.

“Rather nice,” she said. “You’re supposed to drink it black, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I think the flavor is too subtle to add anything to the brew,” he said.

“Where was Marisa when you last heard from her?” Lucy said.

“She was in Springfield, Missouri. She was travelling Route 66 to the West Coast. She had no particular plan other than that. She left Boston in the fall soon after her birthday and went first to Chicago where she took a job as a waitress to save money for the trip. Of course, I could easily have afforded to pay all her expenses but, like I said, she’s an independent girl and prefers to make her own way. She said she wouldn’t value the experience if it was handed to her on a plate, and anyway she’s gregarious by nature and she enjoys meeting people and making new friends. She wants to experience life with all its ups and downs. After a while she wanted to get away from the city and she headed west planning to stop if she needed to work or if she found places that were interesting along the way. When I last heard from her she’d reached Springfield. She’d met a girl on the bus about the same age as herself and her friend needed to work for a while to earn some money so Marisa decided to stay with her. They were both planning to resume their journey together after a month or so. She told me this in late January and since then I haven’t had any contact with her.”

“Did she tell you the name of her friend?” I asked.

“No, she didn’t say.”

“Or where she planned to stay in Springfield?”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t help there.”

“How did you communicate when she was away?”

“Only by telephone – she’d call me about once a week usually, although there was no set time. Sometimes it would be more than a week. Her last call was almost two weeks ago.”

“And it’s on that basis that you’re concerned about her – nothing else?” I said.

“Yes; except that last week it was my birthday and she definitely would have called me then. And her cell phone’s dead. I told the police her telephone number and network and they’ve checked. There’ve been no calls from that number for almost two weeks.”

“Did the police come up with any leads at all?”

“Nothing; it’s as if she’s simply vanished into thin air.”

“Does she have any credit cards, charge cards, debit cards…?”

“She has an account with Wells Fargo and a debit card. She also has a debit card on my account. That was strictly for emergencies, in case she got sick or had an accident or something, but she’s never used that.”

“And her debit card?” I asked. “When was the last time that was used?”

“It was last used at an ATM in Springfield on January twenty-seven. Up to then she’d regularly been depositing small amounts of cash into her account; there’s a balance of just over two thousand dollars in the account right now, but there’s been no kind of activity on that account since the twenty seventh.”

“And when was your birthday?”

“February second. I reported the case to the police the following day.”

“And the date and time of her last call, if you can remember.”

“It was the twenty third of January, in the morning. She’d just arrived in Springfield on the Greyhound bus and she told me that she and her friend were going to look for a place to stay. That’s the last time I heard from her.”

“Who’s been handling the search in the local area?”

“The sheriff’s office in Greene County. The detective dealing with the case is Matt Peters; I understand he deals with all missing persons cases within their jurisdiction. Actually it took some time for the police to take any real interest in the case. As far as they were concerned she’s an adult and there was no evidence that anything untoward had occurred; and she’s not a Springfield resident. The police initially took the view that she’d probably simply had a change of mind and moved on somewhere else. I have some contacts in the police department here in Boston and they were able to pull a few strings for me to get the police moving down there; but I don’t know how thorough their investigation has been. Of course they’ve checked the local hospitals, checked her cell phone record, her bank records. I guess there’s nothing much more they can do.”

“Well I’m not going to pretend that there’s likely to be a rapid result in this investigation,” I said. “We need to get over to Springfield, talk to the sheriff and then start searching. I guess they’ve already checked with the bus companies, railways and so on to see if she may have left town?”

“I understand that they’ve done that, but they pointed out that she may simply have gotten a ride out; they have photographs of Marisa. But if she simply upped and left town I’m sure she’d have let me know.”

“When she last used her debit card do you know what the nature of the transaction was?”

“It was a withdrawal of a hundred dollars I’m told.”

“We can narrow down the date she went missing. She used the card on the twenty seventh and failed to call you on your birthday; that’s a period of about six days. She was presumably fine between the twenty third, when she arrived in Springfield and at least the twenty seventh, perhaps longer. Somebody somewhere must know where she was and what she was doing during that period. It’s going to take legwork, Mr. Roberts, and the sooner we start the better. We’ll fly out this afternoon and start looking.”

I started to get up, but Roberts motioned for me to sit again.

“There’s something I need to ask you,” he said.

“Okay.”

“When I spoke to you yesterday I told you that you might need to spend a week or so on this investigation, but it may take longer than that, I know.” He paused to take a few shallow breaths. “However long it takes, Kane, I want you to stay with it.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Roberts, but if I exhaust all avenues of inquiry there may come a time when you’ll be wasting your money; I’m sure you understand that.”

“What good is money?” he said. “But I understand your situation too. You can’t afford to be away too long from a business point of view; I fully understand that. So I propose this: if you have no success after ten days but there’s still hope then you must stay with the hunt. In those circumstances I’ve made arrangements with Timpson to see to it that your daily fee will increase by fifty percent. I hope that’s not presumptuous of me and that you’ll accept my terms.”

“We’ll stay with it, Mr. Roberts. You have my word.”

“I’ve prepared a check for ten thousand dollars. You’ll keep me informed if you require anything additional by way of expenses,” he said.

I stood up again and Roberts reached over and picked up a small brass bell with a teak handle from the table next to him. He shook it and Timpson appeared within a few seconds.

“Please show Mr. Kane and Lucy out, Timpson,” he said. “And please give the young lady the check I prepared earlier.”

Lucy followed Timpson out of the living room, but as I went to follow her Roberts made a slight beckoning movement with his left hand. As I walked over to where he was seated he beckoned me again with a slight movement of his hand and a slight backward tilt of his head. It was as if he had something confidential to impart so I leaned towards him, putting my hand on the arm of his chair. As I did so he grasped my wrist with his left hand with a grip that belied his frail appearance. He looked me straight in the eye.

“Find her Kane,” he said. “Bring her home to me.”

I nodded and walked over to the living room door.

Chapter Five

Springfield

“I don’t mean to sound unduly pessimistic,” Lucy said as we drove home to pack, “but it seems like a hopeless task. It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “There are plenty of avenues to explore.”

“Like what?” she said.

“They were two girls together and we have Marisa’s photograph. We know when they arrived in Springfield and we know they planned to stay for a month. And what else do we know?”

Lucy looked over at me blankly.

“Think,” I said.

“They’d be looking for work as well as a place to stay?”

“What kind of job?”

“Probably waitressing, I guess. That’s what Marisa was doing in Chicago.”

“Well, that’s a start isn’t it?” I said.

Lucy, organized as ever, had already packed, so we stopped at my place and she suggested that she’d pack for me and I could make a coffee and go online to book the tickets. There are four airlines that fly nonstop to Springfield and I chose United because it was the shortest flight time. There was an early afternoon flight leaving just after one o’clock and I calculated we’d have enough time to make that. It was a five-and-a-half-hour flight but because of the time difference we’d arrive at about five thirty. I booked us a hotel near to the sheriff’s office so that we could make that our first stop in the morning. The hotel was a bit pricey by my standards and the cheapest rooms were called the ‘Modesty King’ or the ‘Humble Queen’. I thought humble queen sounded a bit like Lucy, well the queen part of it anyway, so I settled for that.

We took a cab to the airport and were there early enough for me to have a drink; “to calm my nerves,” I told Lucy. She raised her eyebrows and tutted before grudgingly accepting a non-alcoholic fruit punch.

“So what did you think of the old guy then?” I said.

“I thought he was charming. I hope we can help him – I’m dreading finding out that something awful has happened to Marisa.”

“The thing is, Lucy,” I said, beckoning the barman to bring me a beer, “we have not one but two missing girls.”

“You mean…?”

“According to Roberts it was Marisa’s new friend who needed to work for a while and Marisa decided to keep her company. It’s logical to assume that they were staying together and quite possibly working in the same place. If Marisa disappeared, then the other girl would have reported her missing – unless of course they both went missing together.”

“I wonder if the police have thought of that,” Lucy said.

“Well no doubt we’ll find out tomorrow. Is Brenda happily ensconced in the office?”

“She’ll start tomorrow; she’s looking forward to it. She loves the new place; I showed it to her yesterday when I gave her the keys. She thinks the posters are really cool. I told her there won’t be much for her to do except to keep Tony and June employed as much as possible. She says my life sounds thrilling – you know, traveling all over the place and solving crimes. I think she’s a bit jealous.”

“Well it may not be that thrilling traipsing around bars and restaurants for a few days seeing if anyone recognizes Marisa.”

“It’s a lovely name, isn’t it? I wonder where Mr. Roberts got it from. You know not long before Marisa was born Marisa Tomei won an Oscar for My Cousin Vinnie which is one of my favorite movies. Maybe Mr. Roberts liked that movie too.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask him,” I said glibly.

“I didn’t think of it then,” she said pensively.

“It seems to me that you have a lot of favorite movies.” I said.

“Well I have lists in my head; separated into genres of course.”

“Of course,” I said.

A disembodied voice was calling our flight so we trudged off to the gate.

“Pity we’re not going somewhere warm” Lucy said.

“It’ll be warmer than where we were last month.”

“We’re not really staying in the Best Western are we?” Lucy said glumly.

“No I was only teasing you. We’ve got a room fit for a queen.”

*

The sheriff’s office in Springfield is on North Boonville Avenue just a block or two from the interstate; it was a short walk from our hotel and we were there at nine. Detective Matt Peters, a congenial-looking man in his late thirties with prematurely greying hair, was there to meet us, the appointment having already been made by Roberts. After we’d introduced ourselves Peters sat on the corner of his desk while we made ourselves as comfortable as possible in a couple of office chairs.

“There’s not much I can tell you that you don’t already know,” he said. “Right now you’re looking at the only detective assigned to deal with missing persons in Greene County, which encompasses most of urban Springfield and a total population of nearly a quarter of a million people. My duties here include not only locating missing persons but also apprehending dangerous fugitives and coordinating with the United States Marshall’s Fugitive Task Force.”

“By yourself?” I said.

He smiled. “The Greene County sheriff’s office has an operating budget of almost fourteen million dollars,” he said. “We employ 266 personnel with 46 Reserves and over 200 Citizen Volunteers. We operate a jail with an average daily inmate population of 544. There are 88 sworn Deputies and 178 non-sworn employees at the Greene County Sheriff's Office. FBI studies show the regional average of sworn officers to citizens is one officer for every 417 citizens. Greene County has a ratio of one sworn deputy for every 956 citizens. It would take 114 more sworn deputies to reach the regional average.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Lucy said.

“We manage okay, but we don’t have the resources or manpower to launch a major investigation every time a teenager goes missing I’m afraid.”

“Well you seem to have done everything that could be expected of you,” I said. “It’s up to us now to see if we can find the young lady; or at least find out what’s happened to her.”

Peters pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Right now we have thirty-six active cases of missing persons on file. Some of them date back a long way, but sixteen of the cases occurred within the last twelve months. There’s no way of knowing how many of the cases involve persons who’ve disappeared on purpose. Frankly there’s usually little I can do. Apart from the initial routine enquiries we publicize the cases as best we can; putting up posters and so on. Of course what you have to understand is that the cases I’ve mentioned relate to Springfield residents, or former residents, perhaps. They don’t include cases of persons who disappear on the way through the city or through the state.”

“I appreciate your difficulty,” I said. “Nevertheless there’s good reason for concluding that Marisa disappeared while in Springfield. It doesn’t seem likely that she’s left town – at least not voluntarily.”

“I agree the trail appears to end here,” he said. “Since Marisa’s disappearance her cell phone hasn’t been used and her bank account hasn’t been accessed, neither has the debit card that her father gave to her for emergencies. I understand from Mr. Roberts that she has no other means of support.”

“Did Mr. Roberts tell you about the other girl? Apparently she was travelling with a girl she met on the bus,” Lucy said.

“So I understand; but nobody’s reported the other girl missing. Of course, her friends and family may not even know if she’s missing too; it depends how closely she kept in touch with them. As it happens Marisa called her father to tell him where she was and also told him she intended to stay in town for about a month; but as for the other girl we know absolutely nothing. We don’t have a name, let alone a picture or an ID.”

“Perhaps she found somewhere to work during the week or so before she went missing,” I said, “but she withdrew a hundred dollars from her bank account on the twenty seventh of January so she might not have found work by then. All we know for certain after that is that she failed to call her father on his birthday on the second of February.”

I noticed a look of slight skepticism on Peters’ face.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “Kids forget their parents birthdays all the time; but I’ve been in this business a long while and having seen Mr. Roberts I’m sure that Marisa was not that kind of kid. Anyway we have a gap of six days during which she probably disappeared. It may be possible to narrow that down if I can find out where she was living or working prior to her disappearance.”

“As for where she was staying we faxed flyers to the hotels and motels. While her photograph may not have been much help there’s no record of anyone with that name having stayed in Springfield recently,” Peters said. “As for where she may have worked there are countless places with a high turnover of temporary staff.”

“As for the hotels and motels,” I said, “If the two girls took a room together then either of them could be on the register. If Marisa’s friend is on the register, then a search would turn up zilch. As for the flyers, with no criticism of your department intended, most of those are probably sitting unread in the desk clerk’s drawer. It’s going to be down to old-fashioned legwork. Fortunately, we have the time, and I’m fairly confident we’ll turn up something.”

“You’ve got quite a task ahead of you,” Peters said; “but I wish you luck. If I get any new information I’ll be sure to let you know right away.”

I thanked Peters for his time and Lucy and I headed back to the hotel.

“So where do you suggest we start looking,” Lucy said.

“We’ll start at the bus station. That’s where she was when she called her father and told him she was going to look for a place to stay. It’s logical that she and her friend would have looked for someplace nearby, at least as a start. I’m sure they’d have been managing on a small budget so we can forget about most of the hotels.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, “let’s go.”

Chapter Six

Jacky

The Greyhound bus station in Springfield is on East Kearney Street, otherwise known as the fabled Route 66. On the way Lucy googled the area for motels. About a mile west of the bus station is the junction with Route 65 which leads north to Interstate 44. Along Route 65 were about twenty hotels and motels but my attention was drawn to a motel called the Red Haven which was about five hundred yards to the west of the bus station on the south side of the highway. It wasn’t much to look at, but then it wasn’t designed to be looked at. A yellow neon sign with a red arrow snaked around it told us there were vacancies. There was an L-shaped block of twenty-six rooms and a large lot with a single truck parked there. Right next door to the Red Haven was a diner so we stepped inside for coffee and Lucy brought her laptop. We found the Red Haven on google and were invited to be the first to leave a review. Lack of reviews was always a good sign in my experience – lousy motels usually had a lot of lousy reviews. On the other hand, who was going to go to the trouble of leaving a review? So it probably meant nothing. What did mean something was the price – claiming to be ‘from forty dollars’ – and its proximity to the bus station.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this place,” I told Lucy. “They’d have been tired. They arrived in the morning so they’d been travelling overnight; why go any further than this? Let’s finish up and see how good the desk clerk’s memory is.”

In the reception area an amiable-faced large lady of about forty, with a name clip that announced to the world that she was called Pamela, was on the phone. She smiled across at us and mouthed that she’d be with us in a moment.

“Yeah, it was a surprise to me too,” she said into the phone. “I’ll call ya back, got some customers.” She put the phone back in its cradle and smiled warmly at us. “So what can I do for you folks?” she said. She peered over our shoulders into the parking lot. “You don’t have a vehicle, huh? You come in on the bus?”

“No we came by taxi as a matter of fact,” I said. “We’re not looking for a place to stay I’m afraid; we’re looking for a lost girl − two lost girls in fact.” I handed her my card and one of Lucy’s. Lucy’s card had embossed gold lettering on a white background; mine didn’t.

I took out the envelope with Marisa’s pictures and spread them on the counter-top. “This young lady has been missing for about two or three weeks,” I said. “Lucy and I have been hired to find her if we can. She’s from Boston, and we know that she and another girl arrived on January 23rd. She called her father from the bus station and told him they were going to find a place to stay. Given the proximity of this place to the bus station and your more than reasonable prices I think there’s a good chance that they may have come here.”

Pamela reached over and thumbed through the register. “January 23rd,” she muttered, “let me see. This could be them.” She turned the register around so that I could read the page and pointed at an entry timed at eleven ten. “Is that the name?”

The name in the register was Vicky Boraski. “The girl in the photographs is Marisa Roberts,” I said, “but we don’t know the name of her travelling companion, so it could be. Were you on duty that day?”

“No, that was Jacky. You want me to call her?”

“I’d love you to call her, but we may draw a blank. Maybe we can arrange to meet somewhere convenient for her.”

“Nowhere’s more convenient than this,” she said; “she’s in the end chalet, though she’s prob’ly snoring her head off right now.” She laughed and her shoulders shook sending a ripple effect down the rest of her body.

“We can come back,”

“Hell no, I’ll go wake her up. Jimmy!” she called out.

A skinny kid of about fourteen put his head around the door behind her. “This is my son, Jimmy,” she said. “Jimmy, you look after the desk for me for a moment; I gotta go get Jacky up.”

“Sure mom,” Jimmy said. He looked at us. “Hi I’m Jimmy,” he said. “You folks from out of town?” Pamela was already outside, striding purposefully to keep the cold at bay.

“We sure are,” I said. “I’m Kane and this is Lucy – we’re from Boston.”

“Wow,” he said. “We get folks from all over, here.”

“I bet you do,” Lucy said. “You’re right next to the Mother Road.”

“Yep,” he said. “The birthplace of Route 66.”

“I guess that’s one of the first things you learn in school,” Lucy said.

“First paved highway to stretch all the way from east to west,” he said proudly. “I’m gonna follow it all the way to LA one day.”

“Not the other way – to Chicago?” I said.

“Nah, too cold. I’m gonna get myself to LA and be a movie star; or maybe join a band or something; I haven’t right figured it out yet.”

Pamela returned to tell us that Jacky would be over in about fifteen minutes.

“Okay, we’ll go and grab a bite to eat next door,” I said. “You want to come with us Jimmy? Lucy here knows everything there is to know about movies − maybe movie stars too.”

Jimmy looked at his mom. “Yeah, go on then,” she said.

Fifteen minutes later we were back, and a few minutes after that Jacky appeared. She was a tall girl in her early twenties wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. Both arms were covered in multicolored tattoos which disappeared under the short sleeves of her shirt; who knows where they ended up.

“Hi Jacky, I’m Kane and this is Lucy. We’re sorry to bother you,” I said, “but it’s vitally important that we find these girls as soon as possible.”

“Ah, shoot it’s no problem. Pam told me who you’re looking for; I know her − let me look at the pictures.” She looked at Marisa’s photographs for a brief moment. “That’s her,” she said.

“Are you sure?” I said.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I spent some time with them after they checked in here.”

“Look, can we take you next door for coffee, and you tell us as much as you can?”

“Okay.”

The single waitress in the diner welcomed us back for the third time in less than an hour. We sat in a booth by the window.

“Before you tell us anything let me fill you in on what’s happened,” I said to Jacky. “Lucy and I have been hired by Marisa’s father to try to locate her. We don’t know anything about Vicky, the girl she was travelling with, except that they met on the bus from Chicago. Marisa told her father they intended to stay here for about a month before continuing west; Vicky needed to work for a while. About a week later they both disappeared. The folks in the sheriff’s office have done their best but haven’t turned up any leads. What we need to do is find out where they were staying and working before they disappeared.”

“Well you’ve come to the right place,” Jacky said. “How’d you figure they’d been here?”

“A lucky guess,” I said.

“Well not really,” Lucy said. “We knew they’d be tired after their journey from Chicago – they’d been travelling overnight – and this place ticked all the right boxes. We know they were travelling on a budget; it seemed a logical place to start.”

“The police never came here,” she said.

“Well, they’re a little busy and a little short-staffed,” I said. “They faxed flyers to hotels and motels with Marisa’s picture.”

“We oughta get that fax fixed,” she said; “been sitting under the counter for the last coupla months.”

“Can you tell us as much as you know?” Lucy said.

“Well I was behind the desk when they came in. I guess they were tired but it didn’t show because they were both so excited. Marisa loved my tats – you’ve probably noticed.” She grinned. “Anyway she wanted to know what they all meant, because they’re like pictures. Marisa thought they were like symbolic or something. She laughed when I told her I was mainly blasted when I had them done and I just chose them because I liked the look, y’know; they don’t really mean anything. But Marisa said they did mean something because they said something about me; about who I am. Anyway they stayed here for,” she thought for a moment, “three days. It was a Friday when they arrived and they stayed over the weekend. I got them a temporary job right here in the diner – Vicky did some work in the kitchen and Marisa waited tables, but it was only until they could find their feet. I told them I’d ask around and Tommy said he would too; see if we could find a better paid job for them both to do.”

“Tommy?” I said.

“He’s my old man; he rides with the Scouts.”

“The Scouts?” I said.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re from out of town. The Scouts are a local biker gang; some of them look a bit mean but they don’t cause any trouble. Their name’s got something to do with Wild Bill Hickok – you know he killed a man here in Springfield in a duel over a watch? Anyway, the name’s got something to do with that, or him or something.”

“Okay, go on,” I said.

“So the three of us spent some time together over the weekend – mainly in their room, just talking; but on the Sunday they came with Tommy and me and some of Tommy’s friends and we took a bike ride over to Branson. Marisa had never been on a bike before – she loved it. That girl is something else; she’ll try anything. And she’s real friendly too. She’s kinda like a sponge – she wants to soak everything up; do everything, see everything, learn everything.”

“Do you know where she and Vicky went on that Monday?”

“Yeah; Tommy’s got a friend called Shakes – his real name’s Mike Macarovich – and he said his old lady, Jillian, could put them up for a while for free while they tried to find some work; it’s quite a convenient location to get downtown from their place. They stayed there until the following Saturday but then Marisa and Vicky apparently decided to head out of town for a week or so with some people they’d met in Springfield. Neither of them had got a job yet. That’s the last time I heard from her, although later I heard that she’d decided to stay away for a while longer but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Who told you that?”

“Shakes told Tommy and Tommy told me.”

“If they left the city on Saturday it would have been the last day of January,” I said. “The second of February was her father’s birthday and he was expecting her to call; so it narrows down the time of her disappearance to just a couple of days.”

“She definitely would’ve called her dad,” Jacky said. “She felt guilty about leaving him; he’s quite sick, she said, but he insisted that she live her life. She adores him, I know. We talked about a lot of things during those few days.”

“You’ve been incredibly helpful,” I said, “but we need to talk to Tommy and find out where they were staying before she left town. Maybe Shakes’ old lady can tell us more about this place she was planning to visit.”

“Sure, I’ll arrange it. Tommy’s working right now – he works in a bike shop on the other side of town – but I can get him to come over here tonight. I’ll be working, but I can introduce you, and I can tell him all about it before you meet.”

“Okay, what time?” I said.

“Say seven?”

“Okay, we’ll be here. But first I need to go back and check the register; did you record any ID from Vicky?”

“No; they paid cash so we didn’t check any ID; we only need that if it’s a reservation. We don’t get many of those.”

“One last thing,” I said to Jacky. “Do you have any photographs of Vicky?”

“Yeah there’ll be several on my cell phone. If you give me your number, I’ll send them to you. You got Whatsapp?”

I gave Jacky Lucy’s number. She was bound to have Whatsapp and probably every other kind of app known to mankind. As we left the diner together Jacky turned to me. “You gotta find her Kane; she’s a good kid.”

“We’ll find her,” I said.

We went back inside the office and Pamela called a cab for us. During the short ride back to the hotel I said to Lucy, “The first thing we have to do is to head over to the sheriff’s office and update Peters on the investigation. Now we have a name for Vicky he may be able to find out if anyone’s reported her missing too.”

“Someone’s bound to have reported her disappearance somewhere, don’t you think?” Lucy said.

“Probably – if she has in fact disappeared. We’ve been assuming that the girls stayed together, but perhaps when Marisa decided to leave town for a while they split up; or if not then maybe later when Marisa decided to stay on wherever it is she went to. After all, she and Marisa hadn’t known each other long and we know Vicky needed to work, whereas Marisa had ample funds in her account from working in Chicago. If Vicky and Marisa parted company at some stage, then she would probably be oblivious of the fact that Marisa has been reported missing.”

Back at the hotel we decided to eat lunch before visiting Peters again. Hopefully that would give Jacky time to send Vicky’s pictures to Lucy, who hadn’t received anything yet. Although Jimmy had devoured a burger and fries in the diner Lucy and I had stuck to coffee, so we were getting hungry. We didn’t eat in the hotel though; years of living relatively frugally had instilled in me a common sense attitude to spending and I was darned if I was going to pay hotel prices, even if we were on expenses. It was the same with airlines; I always travel coach, even if the client’s happy to pay for business, unless it's a long flight and I need to start working as soon as I arrive; and that happened occasionally. I’d had complimentary upgrades a few times too, but that was unlikely to happen again now that I was traveling everywhere with Lucy. I’ve never been inside a first class cabin although, like most people, I’d occasionally had a peek behind that curtain to see how the other half live; or the other two percent or whatever.

Lucy chose Indian food, so we ate tandoori chicken with yogurt and roasted broccoli and aloo gobi with some vegetable samosas on the side. I was allowed a beer too, but only one.

“We’ve made an amazing start,” Lucy said. “I thought we’d be wandering around for days before we found anything out.”

“It’s a question of making use of what Hercule Poirot called ‘the little gray cells’, Lucy,” I said. “By which he meant the brain,” I added for clarification.

“He’s not a real person, though.” Lucy said.

“As real as anyone in those movies you watch. You ever seen a Hercule Poirot movie?”

“What are they about?” she said.

“Murder usually. He’s a Belgian detective, invented by a writer called Agatha Christie. She’s dead now, so there won’t be any more stories about him I guess.”

“Well I think it’s an incredible stroke of luck finding out where Marisa stayed so easily.”

“That’s not what you told Jacky,” I said. “You told her the place ticked all the right boxes.”

“My God; what about her tattoos?” Lucy said.

“I thought they rather suited her. Why, are you thinking of getting one?”

“She hasn’t got one, she’s got hundreds.”

“I expect Tommy likes them. Anyway you can’t really be a biker’s moll without tattoos,” I said.

“We were bikers, back in the day,” Lucy said. She was referring to our early days in California, before we headed east.

“We weren’t in a gang,” I said.

“I don’t suppose we’d have passed the initiation rites,” Lucy said, ruminating to herself.

“Anyway, let’s go see Peters,” I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin and summoning the waiter who’d dealt with us throughout with an obsequiousness that I’d experienced in Indian restaurants before. It must be part of the training, I thought.

*

“That was quick,” Peters said. “If you ever need a job you must let me know – I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Just a matter of using the little gray cells,” Lucy said. “I expect that’s where you’d have looked first if you had the time.”

“Well I’ll run a check on Miss Boraski to see what I can find out,” Peters said, “although without an ID or date of birth I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“I don’t suppose you need her picture,” I said, “but you may as well have a copy for good measure. I’ll get some downloaded and printed for you.”

“I can get that done now,” he said. “May I?”

Lucy handed over her phone and Peters disappeared for a couple of minutes. The picture on Lucy’s cell phone showed Marisa, Jacky and Vicky kneeling in front of a row of bikers who stood behind, their arms around each other’s shoulders. It was apparently taken in the Ozarks, presumably during their trip to Branson. It was a pretty good picture of Vicky’s face, but impossible to tell how tall she was. She looked about the same age as Marisa.

Peters returned with some prints. “I see they made some friends here,” he said wryly.

“Mr. Roberts says Marisa’s very gregarious by nature,” I said. “That seems to be borne out by what Jacky told us too.”

“That character trait can be both a good and a bad thing. Well, not a bad thing but maybe a dangerous thing in some circumstances,” he said.

“Oh I’m sure the friends she made here wouldn’t take advantage of her,” Lucy said.

“That’s not really what I mean,” Peters said. “A gregarious nature can make someone prone to trusting others too easily. From what you’ve told me Marisa, and maybe Vicky too, left town with a group of people they hardly knew – can hardly have known – and since then nothing’s been heard of Marisa.”

“I see what you mean,” Lucy said.

“What I suggest for the time being is that I follow this up. I’ll see what I can find out about young Vicky here and in the meantime you can follow up your lead on Marisa. I’ll leave that side of things up to you; I’m sure you’d prefer it that way.”

“We’re more than grateful,” I said. “We’ll call Mr. Roberts this afternoon and put him in the picture and we’ll get back to you once we’ve seen Jacky’s boyfriend. Let’s tentatively make an appointment for tomorrow morning at nine. Will you be free then?”

“As free as I’ll ever be,” Peters said.

We headed back to the hotel. “Oh ye of little faith,” I said to the room at large as I lay supine on the bed.

“Is that supposed to be a dig at me?” Lucy said.

“I just seem to recall that you weren’t very optimistic when we left Boston yesterday.”

“What do you want, a medal? We haven’t found her yet.”

I reached out, grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the bed with me; she squealed with surprise and then giggled. “We’ve got three hours to kill,” I said. “How about we test out the springs on this mattress?”

Chapter Seven

Tommy

“If anyone harms a hair on that girl’s head – either of those girls – they’ll have me to answer to.”

Tommy was a tall, rawboned young man in his mid-twenties. We were sitting in the diner next to the motel. He was about six one and lean; he had mutton-chop sideburns which would have been a beard but for the half-inch gap on his chin. He wore a white T-shirt under a black leather jacket, which he removed when we sat down, and black leather pants. On his right bicep was an image that I would have recognized as Wild Bill Hickok even if Jacky hadn’t told me about his affiliation earlier. Beneath the image was the word ‘Scouts’.

“It’s good of you to come,” I said.

“I’m gonna tell you somethin’ Kane,” he said. “People judge me all the time.” The word ‘all’ was drawn out to an unnatural length for emphasis. “What the hell do they know about me? Nothin’. I tell you somethin’ else,” he said, pointing a finger at me, “I got a college education.” He laughed. “It’s true; just because I dress like this and live the kind of life I wanna live people judge me; they treat me like garbage some of them, but what I do to them? Nothin’. But Marisa, she never judged me. She took me for what I am, and I’ll tell you I’m not a bad guy. I mean, I got a temper, I grant you that; anybody gets me riled they better watch out; but I don’t bear nobody any ill will. I never needed to tell Marisa that coz she knew. We all went over to the mountains one day and we were laughin’ and whoopin’ it up. It was a Sunday and there were plenty of families traveling that way. You could almost hear the parents telling their kids not to look at us; like we were some kind of trash. Later that evening we sat around the fire and Marisa wanted to know all about me and Jacky. She wasn’t just being polite, she was real interested in our lives and what made us tick. We talked about just about everything that night – including religion and philosophy. I ain’t dumb –I got a degree in engineering. Most people are surprised to learn that, but not Marisa. That girl’s somethin’ special Kane, you better believe me.”

“I’ve only heard good things about her,” I said, “and that’s the truth. How about Vicky; her friend?”

“Well she was more kinda reserved, if you know what I mean; but she’s a nice kid too. But Marisa, well, she had somethin’ extra that I can’t really put into words. Jacky took to her too; I never seen Jacky get so close to someone so quick. Jacky told me they had a kinda mutual…understanding. I was gonna say respect, but that’s not quite it. Anyway, what I’m tryin’ to say is that whatever help I can give you, you got it okay?”

“I appreciate it. What we need to know right now is where she went when she left the motel. Jacky said you can help us with that.”

“Yeah, she went to stay with Shakes and his old lady, Jillian; they both did. We went to the Ozarks that Sunday – ate barbequed pork round a campfire. The next day they moved into Jillian’s place. After that I didn’t see them, but I tried to find them somewhere to work; Jacky did too. Next I heard they’d headed outa town for a while. Jacky said they ain’t come back yet.”

“That’s right,” I said. “And Marisa was supposed to call her dad on his birthday, but she didn’t; and her bank account is untouched since then and her cell phone hasn’t been used. We need to find out where Marisa and Vicky went when they left Springfield.”

“You’ll need to talk to Jillian; she’d be the one to tell you, I guess. I’ll call her and arrange for you guys to meet her – tomorrow okay?”

“Sure; the earlier the better. And thanks for taking the time to talk to us,” I said. “So that’s your bike outside; an old shovelhead Harley?”

“Hey, you know your bikes man.”

“I haven’t always been old, Tommy. I lived in California in my twenties. I had a Harley back then which turned out to be something of a babe magnet. I still had that Harley when I met Lucy and we used to ride the coast highway, breathe the ocean air and sleep under the stars. You get older Tommy, but you don’t forget.” Lucy gave my leg a squeeze under the table. I glanced at her sideways and saw her eyes misting over

“We’d better get going Tommy. We’ll wait for your call tomorrow; give us the time and place and we’ll be there, okay?”

On the drive back to the hotel Lucy rested her head on my shoulder and put her hand on my leg. “You know one of the great things about this kind of work?” she said, “You meet all kinds of people you wouldn’t usually meet.”

“Yeah, but not always nice people,” I said. “Oh I don’t mean Tommy, he seems like a regular guy, but I’ve got a feeling that before this case is done we’re going to meet some people who aren’t nice at all.”

*

Back at the hotel I called Roberts; Timpson answered the phone and put me through.

“Hi Mr. Roberts, it’s Kane,” I said. “I’m just calling to give you a progress report on our first day.”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon,” he said in a thin voice. He was holding the phone so near to his mouth that I could hear the sound of him wheezing.

“We’ve had a productive first day – we found out where Marisa and her friend were staying until the end of January. We know the identity of her companion too – her name’s Vicky Boraski. The first three days they stayed in a motel near the bus station and then they went to stay with some friends they met there. On the last day of the month Marisa left town, probably together with Vicky. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll find out more about where they went; but it seems that her intention was only to be gone for a week. Your birthday being on the Monday suggests that Marisa wasn’t able to use her phone by then.”

“Do you think she’s safe, Kane?” He spoke softly, without urgency in his voice. It was a question he knew I couldn’t answer.

“Right now we’ve no reason to think otherwise,” I said. “We’re working together with Matt Peters and I’ll call again about the same time tomorrow to give you an update on the situation. Meantime you just try to relax and not worry.”

“God bless you, Kane,” he said. There was a click as he hung up.

“How was he?” Lucy said.

“Probably feeling a little less anxious,” I said. “But we’re a long way from being out of the woods yet. I just hope that Marisa told Jillian where she was going. I took a road trip soon after I came back to the States, after my dad recovered from his heart attack. Things were a little different back then, but at least we had payphones. I tried to keep my folks in touch with where I was and where I was going, but I was hitch-hiking and it wasn’t always so easy to plan. I’d set out to go someplace, but sometimes end up wherever the driver was headed. You can’t afford to be too picky when you’re traveling like that.”

“Well it doesn’t seem like she was going far if it was only for the week.”

“But if she traveled even fifty miles then she could be anywhere within seven thousand square miles; and she could have travelled much further than that for all we know.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed that she told Jillian or at least left some kind of a clue,” Lucy said.

“If Jillian can’t help then we may have to fall back on trying to locate her by tracking her phone.”

“Wouldn’t she have to be using the phone for that to work? I thought Roberts said her phone’s dead.”

“Her phone may be dead now, but it probably wasn’t when she left the city. It’s not necessary for there to be an active call. The technology works on the basis that a powered cell phone always communicates wirelessly with one of the closest cell tower. I think the phone would at least have to be turned on so that it emits a roaming signal to contact the nearest antenna, but they’re improving this kind of technology all the time, though, so maybe they can even track a phone when it’s turned off now.”

“But if Marisa had her cell phone and it was charged then she could have used it to make a call, so it doesn’t seem a very likely option,” Lucy said.

“Maybe she had no reason to make a call then; and by the time she needed to make a call she may not have been able to; but the problem is that in rural areas there may be many miles between base stations, which means that pinpointing an exact location would be difficult if not impossible; and if she was in a remote area then her phone might not even be within range of an antenna

“Then we’ll have to revert to plan A,” Lucy said; “keeping our fingers crossed. I wonder why we do that; cross our fingers.”

“I don’t have a clue,” I said. “But maybe a nightcap would give me some ideas. Come on, let’s go explore the neighborhood – we might not get the chance again; we could be somewhere entirely different soon.”

Chapter Eight

Jillian

Tommy’s call came as we were having breakfast across the street from the hotel. Jillian would call in sick so she’d be free to see us; she’d meet us at the hotel around nine thirty. That was the good news.

“She doesn’t know where Marisa went to,” he said, “but she’s got some other information which might help you locate her.”

“Okay, thanks; we’ll be in the hotel lobby.”

We crossed back over the street to the hotel. “She’ll be here in about an hour,” I said to Lucy. “You better call Peters and change the time for our appointment.”

Jillian arrived promptly at nine-thirty. She was wearing a three-quarter-length sheepskin coat over a roll neck sweater and tight Levi’s tucked into knee high boots. She was a few years older than Jacky; early thirties I guessed. We introduced ourselves and went into the hotel coffee shop.

“Thanks for coming over,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to take time off work.”

“They can do without me for a while,” she said. “I work as a secretary for one of the assistant managers in the Bank of America; I haven’t had a day off since Christmas.”

“Lucy used to be a secretary,” I said. “Mine, in fact; but now she’s my assistant investigator.”

“Wow, that sounds like a step in the right direction,” she said, smiling at Lucy.

“Somebody has to keep an eye on him when he’s away from home,” Lucy said endearingly.

The coffee arrived. “I’m so sorry to hear about Vicky and Marisa,” she said. “They’re lovely girls. I had no idea…”

“There are really only two possibilities that I can think of,” I said. “Either they’ve been abducted or they’re being held somewhere against their will, which is much the same thing. Anything you can tell us which will help point us in the right direction will be very helpful.”

“Well I’m afraid I don’t know exactly where they are, but I do know a couple of things that may help. When they left my place they said they’d probably be back in a week or so – it was a Saturday when they left. They were still looking for work, especially Vicky, although they’d spent most of the week just having a look around – sightseeing I guess. About a week later there was a call from Marisa to say they’d decided to stay on for a while wherever they were. I thought they’d probably had a change of plan. It didn’t occur to me that anything…untoward had happened to them; although I was surprised that Marisa didn’t call again. It seemed out of character for her – she’s a thoughtful girl and she and Vicky were very grateful that I’d given them a place to stay.”

“Well, I think that something probably prevented either of them contacting you again – or anybody else for that matter,” I said. “When she called did you ask her where she was?”

“I didn’t speak to her. She left a message on my answering machine at home.”

“Didn’t she have your cell phone number?”

“Yes, of course; I assumed she didn’t want to disturb me at work.”

“Do you still have the message on your machine?” I asked.

“Yes. I played it again yesterday when Tommy told me about their disappearance. I didn’t notice the first time I heard it, but there’s something strange about it.”

“Like what?”

“The message says, ‘Hi, it’s Marisa. Sorry I lost my cell so I’m calling from a payphone. I’ve decided to stay on here for a while. Don’t worry, everything’s cool. Tell Jaqueline I’ll call her when I get back’.”

“So what part of the message is strange?” Lucy said.

“A lot of things; but they didn’t register when I first heard it. First, even if Marisa had lost her cell phone Vicky had one, so it doesn’t make sense; I mean they were together. And she’d never call her Jaqueline. For one thing Jacky’s name isn’t an abbreviation of Jaqueline because Jacky’s only a nickname, and Marisa knows that − it’d be like calling my old man Shakespeare instead of Shakes.”

In spite of the situation I couldn’t help smiling. “It sounds like you’re in the wrong job, Jillian. That’s pretty sharp thinking.”

“When I first played the message I didn’t notice the name. I guess I just heard what I expected to hear; but she definitely said Jaqueline; and then when she said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ that’s strange too; she would’ve said ‘we’. And I think Marisa was even cleverer than that. There was no need to tell me in the message that she was calling from a payphone. I’m sure she was giving me a clue – to check the number to find out where she was. Now I know she’s gone missing I think she was trying to tell me something was wrong, and I didn’t sleep well last night thinking about it; but that wasn’t such a bad thing because I was turning it all over in my mind and I realized that there’ll be a record of the number she called from. I haven’t had time to do anything about it yet.”

“I’d like to hear the recording,” I said.

“It’ll be better to listen to it on the machine; so I thought if you have time we can scoot over to my place.”

“Okay but we need to go to the sheriff’s office first; we told the detective there who’s dealing with the matter that we’d meet him again this morning. And now we need to get that call record as soon as possible. Is there anything else we should know?”

“Yes; although I don’t know where they went I do know who they went with. I don’t have a name or anything like that, but I know something about it.”

“Go on,” I said.

“Well, like I said, Marisa and Vicky had been roaming around town for a few days. Mainly it was to see if there were any jobs, but they also wanted to see the place. A couple of days before they left they met a group of people who told them they lived on a commune not far away. Marisa told me about it; they met them somewhere near the university campus. They invited Marisa and Vicky to go take a look at how they lived. They said they were into meditation, living off the land and stuff like that. Vicky wasn’t keen to go, but Marisa’s the kind of person who takes an interest in that kind of thing. She told me they were really cool people and it sounded fascinating and she might go and check it out. Then she told me on Friday night that she’d decided to visit this commune over the weekend. I guess Vicky decided to tag along for the ride.”

“Did she tell you anything else about these people, Jillian?”

“Not really. She said they were like hippies that she’d read about; they didn’t care about material things – stuff like that. I’m afraid I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it; you know, it’s just typical teenager stuff; sooner or later you grow out of it.”

“Did she mention any names, or tell you where this commune was?” I said.

“The group had a name. She told me, but I’ve forgotten I’m afraid. The name had something to do with rebirth, that’s all I can remember. You know, physical and mental rebirth through meditation, clean living, that kind of stuff. They called themselves something to do with rebirth…I’m sorry.”

“How were they planning to travel there – did she say?”

“I know she had a ride, but she didn’t tell me anything else. She said they’d take them there and bring them back after about a week. I guess she thought it was just part of the adventure.”

“Okay, I think it’s better for you to come with us to see Matt Peters – he’s the detective assigned to the case. He’ll need your authorization to check your phone records. You could do it yourself, but he’ll get it done more quickly. Then we can take a ride over to your place and listen to the recording.”

My mention of Peters’ name reminded me of his comment the day before; about how Marisa’s affability might cause her to trust people too easily and lead her into danger. They were prescient words indeed.

Chapter Nine

The Tape

We met Peters at eleven and I introduced him to Jillian and told him about the call.

“It’s all starting to make some kind of sense now,” I said, “but the missing piece of the puzzle is motive. I’ve no doubt that Marisa and Vicky were abducted. It’s probable that the abduction occurred soon after they left Springfield – presumably when they got to wherever it is they were going. But there’s been no attempt to empty Marisa’s bank account. She has an ATM card and a fair balance in her account. If her captor, or captors, were after that money they’d have taken it soon after the abduction. There’s no way they’d risk trying to access her account now, because it’ll have been frozen. It could be a kidnapping for ransom, but no demand’s been made; that would be unusual too.”

“I agree,” Peters said. “There doesn’t appear to be an obvious motive.”

“I guess you’ll be looking at some of the other missing persons in light of this,” I said. “It’ll be interesting to see if there’s any pattern involving those cases.”

“We’ll get onto that,” Peters said, “although this may well be an isolated case.”

“The phone record will help,” I said, “but I’m not sure how much; I can’t think that anyone who allowed Marisa to make that call would let her do it from a payphone near where she was being held. Lucy and I were discussing the possibility of tracing her by her cell phone signal. Assuming that her phone was turned on during her journey, even if she didn’t make or receive any calls, an analysis of the wireless signal could give us the direction of travel. Depending on when it was turned off, or disabled, it could help to narrow the area to search. I have the network and cell phone number.”

“I already have it,” Peters said. “We’ve already checked to see if any calls were made after she disappeared, but there weren’t. We’re on it, but it’s going to take some time I’m afraid.”

“I guess you haven’t had any luck tracing Vicky’s family?” I said.

“The information is too sparse to do much except search the national databases to see if anyone with that name’s been reported missing. So far we haven’t found anything.”

“Well we’d best leave you to it,” I said. “Jillian will give you an authorization to get her phone records; I don’t suppose that’ll take long.”

“No, we can get that today. I’ll keep you informed,” Peters said.

Jillian lived in an apartment on Battlefield Road on the south side of the city and we were there within fifteen minutes of leaving Peters’ office. Nobody said much during the journey; I guess we all had the same unspoken thought. So far we’d been referring to Marisa and Vicky in the present tense, but there was a strong possibility that they were no longer alive. It was something I was used to; I’d handled a lot of kidnapping cases over the years and few of them had happy endings. I’d often had to be the harbinger of bad news to a client. It wasn’t a pleasant or easy thing to do, but it was part of the job – like a doctor who has to tell a patient that he has a terminal disease. But Lucy was new to the job and her somber demeanor as we headed to Jillian’s place was silent testimony to her thoughts. And no doubt Jillian was unfairly blaming herself for not picking up on Marisa’s cry for help. There was nothing to be done except to keep going, and hope that we weren’t going to be too late.

But it wasn’t all bad news, and there were some good reasons to believe that the girls may still be safe. First, there was more than one abductor; or at least more than one person behind the abduction − that ruled out a psychopathic serial killing. And second, there was the phone call. If the plan was to rape or murder the victims there’d be no point in allowing one of them to call home, or call a friend. That call suggested that whoever was behind this was trying to buy themselves some time. They knew that the two girls were expected back after about a week; I believed that Marisa was forced to make that call to buy her abductors some time; but time for what?

Jillian and Shakes lived in a three-bed apartment on the second floor of a three story block. The living room was neat and tidy and its eastern aspect made it sunny and bright. The television was built into a recess and surrounded with bookshelves; the shelves were full of books too.

“Those are Shakes’ books,” Jillian said. “They’re pretty much all books about the Civil War. Shakes is an authority on the Civil War; what he doesn’t know you could write on the palm of your hand,” she said. “That’s why we live here,” she added, “it’s as near as we could afford to live to the Wilson’s Creek Battlefield. That’s a National Park just down the road a bit,” she said. “Sit yourselves down, I’ll make us some coffee.”

Jillian came back with the coffee and set it down in front of the sofa. “God I hope the girls are okay,” she said. “They’ve been gone almost two weeks now; what do you think’s happened to them?”

“I’ve been racking my brains,” I said; “but so far I’ve come up empty. They may even be very far away from here by now, or…”

“There’s a chance they didn’t make it, isn’t there?” Jillian said, deciding to air what we’d all been thinking.”

“Yes; but there’s also reason for optimism,” I said. I told Jillian and Lucy what I’d been thinking about in the car.

“If they were planning to harm the girls in some way then the phone call from Marisa doesn’t make sense.”

“Well I hope you’re right; let me play you the tape.”

The words spoken on the tape had been memorized verbatim by Jillian. “You hear that?” she said, “Jaqueline; sounds a bit like Jacklin; anyway it’s not Jacky.”

I listened to the words on the tape a few times to try to see if I could ascertain Marisa’s state of mind at the time she uttered them; but they were calmly spoken, carefully measured words. She’d probably been nervous or frightened when she spoke them and she’d obviously made an effort to keep her voice sounding as normal as possible, but I had little doubt that a voice stress analysis expert would be able to detect nuances in the modulation of the voice which would indicate her real state of mind at the time. From what I’d learned about Marisa’s character so far I guessed she wouldn’t want to give her abductors the satisfaction of knowing how scared she must have been. It was strange to hear the voice of the person I’d pictured a thousand times since learning about her existence just a few days before.

“I think we should get the tape forensically examined,” I said. “We’ll get a copy made first.”

“Sure, you take it if you like. What do you think the next step is?”

“If Peters gets the call record today it will hopefully tell us where she was when she made the call,” Lucy said. “The next logical step is to try and trace the location or at least the last direction in which she was travelling when she left Springfield. Until we get that information I don’t think there’s anything further we can do.”

“I agree. Right now we can only speculate, and there’s not much point in that,” I said. “Jillian, I want you to try to recall the name of the group that Marisa left town with. I know you say you can’t remember, but it’s probably stored in your brain somewhere.”

“I’ll try.”

“Meanwhile we’ll take this tape to Peters and then Lucy and I will visit the campus. It’s likely that Marisa and Vicky weren’t the only people who came into contact with that group; we’ll see what we can find out.”

“You’ll keep me up to date with any developments won’t you? Maybe you can come to dinner tonight. Shakes would like to meet you, and I’ll try to stop him boring you to death with his war stories. A stern look is usually all it takes.”

“Okay, that’ll be nice. What time shall we come?”

“How about eight o’clock?”

“We’ll see you then,” Lucy said.

Back at Peters’ office I played him the tape. “It may be worth getting the tape analyzed,” I said. “I know we can get the location from the caller number, but there may be other sounds in the background that we can’t hear which may yield some kind of clue as to what was going on. I can’t say exactly what, but there’s no harm in trying if you’ve got the resources to do that. Can you give us a copy?”

“Okay, leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do. We should have the information about the source of the call anytime now. I’ll call you as soon as I know,” Peters said.

“There’s something else,” I said. “Jillian thinks that the girls left town with a group of people they met near the university. They claimed to be living in a commune, and they invited the girls to go see it. Lucy and I are going to see if we can find anyone else who might have seen these people; they may well have tried to entice other girls. The group had a name, but Jillian can’t recall what it was, except that it was something to do with rebirth. So we’ll be in the vicinity.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about any such group yourself − perhaps in relation to some other missing person or persons?”

“It doesn’t ring any bells off hand,” he said.

“It was just a thought. We’ll hopefully see you later. It’s vital that we move on this as soon as possible. Every passing day is only going to make things more difficult.”

“You’ll know everything almost as soon as I do,” Peters said.

*

“If we just had a name for the group that spirited Marisa and Vicky away it would be a lot easier,” I said to Lucy as we both munched on identical ham and cheese sandwiches in a coffee shop near the hotel. “It’s a bit difficult to get a handle on any sort of inquiry without that. What do we ask people?”

“I know,” Lucy said, “it’s all a bit vague.”

“As soon as we find out where the call came from I think we should head up there. Maybe that would be a better place to look around; wherever it is.”

“Maybe Marisa mentioned the name of the group to Jacky,” Lucy said. “Jacky may not have mentioned it to us yesterday because she didn’t link it to their disappearance.”

“It’s a thought,” I said. “We’ll ask her.” I picked up my cell phone and gave Jacky a call. She was on duty and she picked up.

“Hi Jacky, it’s Kane,” I said. “We spent the morning with Jillian. She told us that Marisa and Vicky left the city with a group of people they met the week before. Apparently they told them they had a commune and invited the girls to go see it. She said Marisa told her they were like some kind of new age hippies, into meditation and stuff like that. Jillian never saw these people, but she said Marisa mentioned the group’s name to her but she can’t remember what it was. I was wondering if she…”

“My God,” Jacky said. “I think I’ve got a picture of her with those people. It’s one of the pictures she sent me during that week – you know, like people do nowadays.

“Stay right where you are;” I said, “We’re on our way.”

“Does she know something?” Lucy said.

“It’s a good thing we thought of calling her,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Ten

Regenerators

“I should’ve told you about it yesterday; I didn’t make the connection I’m afraid.”

“Well there’s no reason you should.” I said, “it just seems like that in hindsight. So what did she tell you about the group?”

“Nothing; it’s just among a few pictures she sent me during that week and I was looking through them today; just thinking about her, you know.”

“Can we take a look?”

Jacky scrolled through her phone and held it out for me to see. Marisa and Vicky were sitting in front of a low curved stone wall with a galvanized sign with portions of it cut out to make letters that said ‘Missouri State’. In front of them was a group of five individuals sitting cross-legged on the grass. There were two females and three males in the photograph. All of them, including the girls, were wearing colorful tie-dye T-shirts under sheepskin coats. The two girls wore headbands and one of the men was wearing an orange cowboy hat. They looked like they’d stepped straight out of Haight Ashbury in 1967, or had been to a costume shop to prepare for a sixties reunion party. There was something written on the headbands the girls were wearing, but the picture was too small for me to see what it was. It was difficult to judge their ages from the picture, but they weren’t teenagers.

“Are there any more pictures of these people?”

“No, only that one.”

“Can you send it to Lucy’s phone? I need to get a print made and get it to detective Peters in the sheriff’s office.”

“Okay – have you found out anything else?” she said.

“Yeah, quite a bit. We met Jillian this morning and she’s been very helpful. There was a message from Marisa left on Jillian’s answering machine the weekend after they left. The call came from a payphone and we’re checking the location.”

“She didn’t say where they were?”

“No. She seems to have been making the call under duress – it was only a short message to say that she wouldn’t be back for a while. But there was some stuff in the message that suggests she’d already been abducted by then. Give Jillian a call – she’ll tell you about it. We have to get back to Peters’ office with this, and hopefully he’ll have the payphone location by then. Don’t worry, we’ll keep in touch.”

Jacky called us a cab and we went straight to the Sheriff’s Office. I gave Lucy’s phone to him and he asked his staff to download the picture and make a print.

“I’ll say one thing,” Peters said. “You don’t let the grass grow under your feet.”

“I have Lucy to thank for this,” I said. “It was her idea to call Jacky and check to see if she’d heard anything about the group.” Lucy gave Peters one of her ‘it was nothing really’ smiles.

“Well I have some more good news,” Peters said. “We have the payphone location. It’s at a gas station on highway 54 in Cedar County less than an hour north of here. Let me show you.”

Peters pulled out a map and spread it on his desk. “There are two main routes going north,” he said, using his forefinger to trace them on the map. “If we have some luck tracking Marisa’s phone then I’d expect it to show one or other of these. Fortunately, the gas station has CCTV and they should still have footage from that date. The tapes are usually wiped and reused after a month so we’re comfortably within that limit. Hopefully if we get the CCTV we get the vehicle; we get the vehicle we get the culprits. I’ll send over the picture and see if anyone can remember them calling in there, but they may not have done anything except use the payphone. I guess they’ll have been fairly cautious.”

“Where’s the nearest town to the gas station?”

“Cooper Springs,” he said, “about eight miles west. Blink and you might miss it, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the sort of place where strangers would be noticed.”

“But 54 runs east to west. There’s no way of knowing which way they’d be travelling,” I said.

“Maybe we’ll get a clearer picture when the network’s had a chance to track Marisa’s cell phone,” Peters said.

A young man knocked and came in with half a dozen prints of Jacky’s picture. “Let’s take a closer look at these,” Peters said. They were large prints and I could now make out the words written on one of the girls’ headbands: ‘Regenerators’.

“This is going to make it a whole lot easier,” I said. “If this group approached anyone else around that time then they’ll surely remember. Can you arrange to post this picture on the campus, and the coffee shops around town? Oh, and one more thing: what was the time of Marisa’s call to Jillian?”

“Five-0-seven,” he said. “On the sixth – it was a Friday.”

Lucy and I took the short walk back to the hotel. “Thanks for giving me the credit for the photograph,” Lucy said, squeezing my hand.

“Credit where credit’s due,” I said. “It was a lucky guess.”

Lucy squeezed my hand as hard as she could. “Ouch,” I said. She may not be very big, but she’s as strong as an ox. “If I even thought you meant that I’d devise a cruel and severe punishment for you,” she said; she probably meant it too. “So it looks like we’ll be leaving town tomorrow.”

“No; there’s no point until we get the result of the cell phone tracking,” I said. “I don’t think there’s anything we’re likely to find out at the gas station that Peters can’t find out; and the girls may have been taken to a place far from there. I doubt they’d have allowed Marisa to call from a payphone anywhere near the place she was being held. They must have realized that sooner or later the call might be traced.”

“I think we should at least drive over there to take a look,” Lucy said. “And in the circumstances I think you’d be wise to take my advice.” Her grip tightened on my hand again.

“It’s been two weeks; they could be anywhere by now,” I said.

“Well let’s try and stay optimistic unless or until there’s a reason to think otherwise,” she said.

“Okay, we’ll drive up there when we have some more news from Peters.”

*

Before leaving for Jillian’s place Lucy called Roberts to bring him up to date. She did her best to reassure him that the investigation was going well, but it was hard to mask the fact that we still had no idea where Marisa was and with every passing day the chance of finding either her or Vicky alive was fading. I thought back to the last words he’d uttered before we left him. “Bring her home”. The words were ambiguous; perhaps he realized even then that we might not be bringing her home alive.

When Jillian answered the door Shakes was sitting on the sofa. He looked up at us over half-moon reading glasses and stood up to greet us. He was about forty, six feet tall, clean shaven with black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing well-pressed beige cotton pants, a white shirt, maroon vest and one of those bolo neckties. He was holding a newspaper and a ballpoint in his left hand and had apparently been doing the crossword puzzle before we arrived.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand, “I’m Mike.” He read the look on our faces. “I only get to be Shakes on weekends,” he said, grinning.

“Kane,” I said, “and Lucy.”

“Welcome to our humble abode,” he said. “Or welcome back I should say – I understand you were here this morning.”

“Yes, Jillian’s been very helpful to us,” I said.

“Well, have a seat; let me get you both something to drink.” He looked at me and Lucy in turn. “What’s your poison?” he said.

“Whiskey for me,” I said. “Lucy?”

“Surprise me,” she said.

“Honey,” he called over to Jillian who was busying herself in the kitchen, “fix Kane a whiskey, and Lucy here will have a margarita,” he said.

We went and sat down. There were two sofas facing each other with a glass-top walnut table between them.

“I’m sorry to hear about Marisa and Vicky; I hope they’ll turn up safe and sound. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so. We’ve just come from the sheriff’s office. I expect Jillian has told you all about the phone message. They’ve traced the call to a gas station near a town called Cooper Springs in Cedar County. They’re checking the CCTV and they’re still trying to get a fix on Marisa’s cell phone; I’m not sure how long that will take. But anyway that’ll only tell us where they were back then.”

“But we’ve found out more about the people they went with,” Lucy said.

Jillian came and sat down next to Mike. “I’m sorry, I still can’t remember how Marisa referred to them,” she said.

“Regenerators?” I said.

Jillian clapped her hands together. “That’s it,” she said. “How’d you find out?”

“Jacky had a picture of them all on her phone; Marisa sent it to her. Not for any particular reason – it was just one of a bunch of photographs she sent to her that week. We had the picture blown up and printed in Peters’ office and you can read the name on the headband one of the girls is wearing,” I said, handing her the photo.

“Can I take a look honey,” Mike said.

“I remember Marisa telling me that they were into regeneration of the spirit though meditation,” Jillian said.

“So we’re making progress, bit by bit,” I said. “Maybe you can help some more Jillian. Do you know what time the girls left on that Saturday?”

“Right after breakfast,” she said. “They left about nine thirty I guess. They probably took the bus to wherever they’d arranged to meet. I guess they must have arranged to meet about ten. Of course, I don’t know what time they left the city.”

“They would have known that the call could be easily traced, so they wouldn’t want it to be anywhere near where they’d taken the girls, unless they were all on the move elsewhere…then it wouldn’t really matter to them whether the call was eventually traced or not. But it may be that the place where the girls were taken is within range of that gas station. Of course that still covers a lot of ground.”

“But if we’re lucky and the phone company can track her phone we should be able to find out where they took her,” Lucy said. “Unless they seized her cell phone and threw it out the car window,” she said glumly; “but we have to keep optimistic at this stage.”

“I hear you’re a Civil War expert,” I said to Mike during dinner, just to be affable.

“Yes, it’s a kind of hobby of mine. I don’t take it to extremes though,” he said. “I don’t dress up and take part in mock battles or anything.” He laughed to himself.

“That’s only because I won’t let him,” Jillian said.

“Jillian told us that you live near the old battlefield at Wilson’s Creek. I think I’ve read about that somewhere.”

“It was the first major battle fought west of the Mississippi,” he said. “The Confederate army heavily outnumbered the Union boys. Nathanial Lyon became the first Union general to die in combat during that battle.”

“And you’re a member of the Scouts,” Lucy said.

“Founder member,” he said.

“Why the Scouts?’ Lucy said.

“Hah; that’s a long story. Like a lot of names its derivation is somewhat obscure; but Bill Hickok is a bit of a legend around these parts and before the Civil War he was a Union scout. I can’t remember who chose the name now. And I hope you’re not going to ask me about my nickname coz that’s a secret I’ll take to the grave with me. Just say I was a lot wilder in my youth than I am now and leave it at that.”

“But you’re still an active member of the Scouts?” Lucy asked him.

“Oh sure,” he said. “Every weekend we all get dressed up and ride; it’s a lifestyle choice – well not really a choice; I guess it’s something you’re born with. And I’ve got the best buddies in the world in that gang; we’re all like brothers. And sisters too,” he said. “The old ladies like to ride with us. Of course, they can’t become members – we’re not that liberal.”

Jillian gave him a swipe on the arm with the back of her hand. “Eat your food and stop yapping,” she said.

Mike put his hand by the side of his mouth, feigning secrecy, and said in a stage whisper, “She was a Scouts’ groupie when I met her.”

After the meal Mike brought over a bottle of whiskey and poured me a generous glass. Lucy went into the kitchen to help Jillian with the dishes.

“I guess if you can narrow down the area of search and ask around the local community it shouldn’t be too hard to find a bunch of hippies in a commune,” he said.

“Except I’m sure they’re not hippies,” I said. “And there’ll be no commune either; or any meditation. It’s the classic sting; I’ve seen it before. If you want to get the trust of a stranger, especially a young girl you need to present an unthreatening, amiable presence – like Ted Bundy with his broken arm; only his arm wasn’t broken of course. The girls in the group were important too; it’s doubtful Marisa and Vicky would have gone with an all-male group. And then the appearance of beneficence – love, peace, living off the land, meditation and so on. If you look at the picture they stick out like clowns at a crematorium. That was intentional; it was a disguise.”

“I guess you’re probably right; can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone dressed like that around town.”

“But it’ll still be worth seeing if anyone else has any information about them. Peters will distribute the picture and put up some posters. It’s possible someone somewhere will remember something.”

“Well I want you to know that the Scouts are at your service if there’s anything we can do to help locate those assholes; even if it’s just to beat the crap out of them if you find them.”

“When I find them,” I said.

Chapter Eleven

Go Forth and Multiply

We got up early, ate breakfast across the street and then walked to the Enterprise lot and rented a sleek grey Ford Fusion; now there was nothing more to do but sit and wait. Waiting is the worst part of any job. Waiting is when the doubts start seeping through. They say that no news is good news, but in cases of abduction or kidnapping the opposite is true. We’d been lucky with the people we’d met so far though, and Matt Peters was a Godsend. I thought what a thankless task he had dealing with grieving friends and relatives of missing persons day in and day out. I tried to settle down with one of the books I’d brought with me, but I couldn’t concentrate. Lucy was on Facebook, catching up on the aimless gossip that littered her Facebook pages. I decided to go down to the coffee shop just to stretch my legs.

Soon after eleven Peters called; he wanted us over in his office − he had the CCTV footage from the gas station. I called Lucy and we walked over there. Peters hadn’t given any clue as to whether there was anything useful on the CCTV but I assumed there must be if he wanted us to see it.

“I think we may have something,” Peters said as we entered his office. “Maybe not much, but something. Come take a look.”

There was footage from two cameras. It was a small gas station with four gas pumps. One of the cameras was in the small general store which doubled as a pay booth, the camera angled so that you could see both sides of the counter; the other appeared to be above the office door looking over to the four pumps in the forecourt. To the left of the picture was what appeared to be an auto repair and tire shop. Next to that there was the front half of a Cadillac in view.

“According to the owner, Sol Firth, the payphone isn’t within view of either camera, but he was able to confirm that the payphone is located adjacent to where the Cadillac is parked; and it isn’t theirs, so it must have belonged to a customer. Now let’s go back to five-0-two.” He rewound the tape. “Here you can see the vehicle arrive. It stops between the store and the auto shop, but you can only see the hood. The owner said it’s come from the direction of the carwash. Because of its position relative to the camera you can’t see the license plate.” We watched the video recording for several minutes, then we saw someone emerge from the auto shop and approach the vehicle. He disappeared from view and then reappeared about a minute later and went back into the auto shop. “Sol says that guy is their mechanic,” Peters said. “Almost as soon as he goes back into the shop the car reverses and disappears from view in the direction from which it came.”

“According to Sol the vehicle was parked next to the phone booth – there’s another payphone in the store, but it’s the one by the auto shop that was apparently used to call Jillian.”

“But the time’s not right,” Lucy said. “Look it’s not 5:08 yet – it’s only 5:06 and the car’s gone already.”

“I think we’ll find the CCTV was slightly out of sync with the actual time. I’ve watched for fifteen minutes either side of this clip and nobody appears to go near the payphone – although I accept that the payphone itself is out of view. I reckon the two of you should go up there and take a look. It’s not easy to make sense of these videos until you see the place for yourselves. It might not seem much – we don’t have the license or even the color of the vehicle; but if it’s the car that the girls were in it’s a start.”

“I wonder why the mechanic went over there,” Lucy said.

“I asked Sol about that. The washroom’s at the back apparently, behind where the vehicle’s parked.”

“We’ll get up there right away,” I said. “Any luck with the cell phone yet?”

“Not yet, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

*

As we drove north to Sol’s gas station the sun was shining in an attempt to cheer us on our way. The weather had been relatively mild since we’d arrived and today was no exception. We turned west off route 54 and almost before you could say Jack Sprat we were there. The main building which housed the office and a small store crouched under a red shingled roof and out front, under a canopy, were the four pumps I’d been looking at an hour or so before in Peters’ office, although they were in color now, with the illuminated red and yellow pectens letting us know it was a Shell station. I pulled over in front of the auto repair shop and could immediately see the payphone in the track between the repair shop and the store. A sign indicated that there was a car wash down there. We went into the store and asked the youth behind the counter if Mr. Firth was available. The youth called out and a sixty-something man in overalls appeared through the doorway behind the counter.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Kane and this is Lucy. I understand that Mr. Peters telephoned you to let you know we were coming.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing more I can tell you people than I told Mr. Peters already. What’s on the tape is on the tape, but I hope it’s of some use to you.”

“I’d like to have a brief word with your mechanic – the one who appears on the video – if he’s available,” I said.

“Okay, you go on over there; he’s not too busy at the moment. His name’s Bill.”

We walked over to the auto shop and found Bill, who was much the same age as his boss, repairing a tire and singing to himself. He looked up as we approached and wiped the palms of his hands on his overalls.

“Can I help you folks?” he said.

“Maybe; we’ve come about the missing girls. We’ve just been watching the CCTV in the Sheriff’s office in Greene County in which you made a guest appearance. I don’t know whether you watched it.”

“Yeah, Sol showed it to me. It was from about a week ago.”

“You walked past a Caddy on your way to the washroom – I was wondering if you have any recollection of that?” It was a longshot, but worth a try.

“As a matter of fact I recollect it very well,” he said.

“Oh, why is that?”

“I was on my way to the washroom and the driver – I guess he was the driver – was crouching down near the rear wing inspecting a nasty looking scrape and dent on the driver’s side. It ran from the rear fender almost to the driver’s door – I guess they’d had some kind of accident. He was running his fingers over it like he was trying to gauge the amount of damage, and I asked him if he’d like me to look at it.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to go forth and multiply,” Bill said. “Although not in those words, if you get my meaning. So I went on to the washroom and minded my own business.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“It was a maroon Eldorado; about ten to twelve years old I guess.”

“How about the guy – what did he look like?”

“Nothing special. Young guy, maybe thirty give or take. I didn’t pay that much attention.”

“Do you recall if there was anyone inside the vehicle?”

“Nobody in the front seats. There were two guys and a girl sitting between them in the back.”

“Can you describe them?”

“No, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“Do you think you’d recognize any of them if you saw them again?”

“Maybe,” he said.

I showed him the group photograph. “Is the guy you spoke to in this photograph?”

He looked at it and squinted with one eye, then he rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Hmm, maybe the one on the left,” he said. “I couldn’t swear to it though.”

“Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“Yeah, he was wearing a black leather jacket with a fur collar – like a flight jacket. Probably blue jeans, but I can’t say for sure.”

“How about the girls in the picture – do you recognize any of them?

“Not the two in front; she was younger. Could be the one standing at the back there,” he said, indicating Marisa in the photograph.

I showed him a head and shoulders picture of Marisa. “Yeah, that’s her, I reckon,” he said.

“I don’t expect you to remember the license number, but did you notice the plates?”

“They were Missouri plates. But I ain’t never seen that vehicle before – nor since.”

“You’ve been real helpful; I’m grateful. Just one more thing: did you notice which direction they left – was it towards Cooper Springs or the other way.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you with that. But if it went to Cooper Springs you’ll catch sight of it on the CCTV; if it went the other way you won’t.”

“Thanks, Bill; we’ll let you get back to work.”

We went back into the store to say goodbye to Sol, but there was no sign of him so we asked the kid behind the counter to say thanks for us. We got back in the car and I called Peters.

“We’re just about to leave Sol’s but can you look at the tape again. Is there any sign of the Cadillac heading towards Cooper Springs after it left the station?”

“No, I already checked that; they must have headed east.”

“How about arriving?”

“No sign of it. They must’ve come from the east too.”

“Then we’re on our way back,” I said. “Looks like we’re not going to see Cooper Springs after all,” I said to Lucy.

“It seems to confirm what you thought,” Lucy said as we drove back to Springfield. They obviously made a special trip with Marisa to Sol’s solely for the purpose of getting her to make the call. Then they probably drove back to their hideout. If they’d been on the way to someplace else, Vicky would have been in the vehicle too.”

“So they went somewhere to the east, but that’s all we know.”

“I wonder how the car got damaged,” Lucy said.

“The guy was apparently inspecting the damage, which suggests it had just happened. We’d better get the police to check whether there were any reports of a minor collision with a maroon Eldorado on that day. If there was it’s a cinch they would have been reluctant to stop and risk a police investigation with Marisa in the back of the car.”

“Holy cow, good thinking, Batman.”

“Back to Gotham then,” I said.

Chapter Twelve

The Best Laid Plans

We parked the car at the hotel and then called in to see Peters.

“It was well worth the ride,” I said. “The vehicle is a maroon Eldorado, ten to twelve years old with Missouri plates. On the day it had recently been in some sort of collision and the wing and passenger door on the driver’s side had been damaged. Marisa was in the back of the car between two guys and the driver wasn’t wearing his hippie disguise anymore. We need the police to check whether any vehicle was involved in a collision with a maroon Eldorado that day. From the description given to us by the mechanic the driver was inspecting the damage as if it had occurred recently – probably on the way to Sol’s. If there’s any report of a collision it could help us pinpoint which direction the Cadillac had come from.”

“Every time you step into my office you give me something new to investigate Kane; it’s lucky I’m good at delegating,” Peters said.

“Well we should get all the body shops checked out as well to see if anyone’s been asked to repair the vehicle,” Lucy said.

Peters raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Anything else?”

“Not for the time being,” Lucy said. “We’ll leave you in peace now – it’s lunchtime.”

“As if I have time for lunch,” he said.

“We’ve done a good morning’s work,” Lucy said to me as we roamed around trying to find somewhere to eat lunch. “Especially as you didn’t even want to go there.”

“That was before we got the CCTV.”

“Which shows how on the ball I am,” she said, elbowing me in the ribs.

*

We’d barely finished eating when the call came from Peters.

“We’ve got the data from the phone company,” he said. “We’re just analyzing it now.”

“Do you want us to come over?” I said.

“Later; give us an hour or two to study it first.”

I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock. “Peters has the tracking data for Marisa’s phone. He wants us to drop by in a couple of hours − after they’ve had a chance to study it.”

“Perfect,” Lucy said.

“Why?” I asked cautiously.

“Because they’re showing Fifty Shades at the Moxie – it’ll help pass the time. Besides, I haven’t watched a movie in ages.”

“Three days counts as ages, does it?”

“It’s all relative, like Einstein said. Come on, let’s go; it starts at twenty past.”

“But we watched it already,” I said.

“Only once – come on.”

“You go,” I said. “I don’t want to see it again.”

“Yes you do; you only think you don’t, but really you do.”

It was easier to go than argue.

*

When we arrived at Peters’ office he had both small and large-scale maps spread out on his desktop. He’d drawn a circle on each map. On the small-scale map the center of the circle was about fifteen miles south east of Clinton. The small town of New Milton, near the center of the circle was about an hour’s drive from Springfield, maybe a little more.

“This is the best they can do,” Peters said. “The signal was intermittent, but the last signal – picked up on 31st of January at about three in the afternoon − put them somewhere in this circle. As I’m sure you both know it’s rarely possible to be much more accurate than this – the technology is based on the relative strength of the signals picked up by each sensor. Frankly there’s a lot of horseshit talked about pinpointing a specific location by cell phone signals. It’s a very thinly populated area – New Milton has a population of less than twelve hundred and, as you can see, that’s one of the bigger towns. The fact that the last signal was picked up in this area doesn’t mean that the journey ended there, of course, but it’s the best we’ve got for the time being. You’ll notice that Cooper Springs is well outside this circle to the west.”

“How big’s the area inside the circle?” Lucy said.

“The diameter of the circle is thirty miles. According to my math that makes it an area of about two thousand seven hundred square miles.”

“Pi r squared,” Lucy said.

“She was good at math when she was at school,” I said helpfully. “But then she was good at most things, so she tells me.”

Peters looked up from the map and grinned. “Then it’s a good thing she’s on our side. If we assume that the journey came to an end somewhere inside this circle then we could probably narrow that down quite a bit by looking at the roadways – much of that area is open countryside. Sol’s gas station is way over here,” he said, placing the tip of his index finger on the small scale map.

“Okay,” I said, “so we have a circle centering on New Milton. That looks to be no more than an hour’s drive, maybe a bit more. According to Jillian the girls left home after breakfast, so if the signal was picked up at three it probably means that they’d already arrived at their destination. Where do we go from here?”

“Well we’re following up to see if there were any reports of a collision with the Eldorado on the day the phone call was made,” Peters said. “We’re also following up to see whether any body shops have repaired the vehicle since then. If the Eldorado collided with a large vehicle, like a truck, then the other vehicle may not have sustained significant damage, or the driver of the truck might even be unaware of the collision. Then again, the Eldorado might have sustained that damage by colliding with a stationary object, like a crash barrier – either way there may not have been any report of a collision. Frankly I think Lucy’s idea of checking the body shops may be more likely to bear fruit.” Lucy kicked my ankle and smiled smugly at me, her eyes sparkling. “But as you can see the area we need to concentrate on extends over more than one county – Henry, Benton, St Clair − so it’s going to take some time to check both of those things.”

“So in the meantime we just sit here and twiddle our thumbs, I guess,” I said. “It’s frustrating, but not unexpected. We’re grateful for your help.”

“There is an alternative,” Lucy said. “We can drive to all the small towns within that circle and see if anyone has any knowledge about the people in the photograph or a maroon Eldorado and hope we get lucky.”

Peters looked at us. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said. Lucy gave me another kick on the ankle. She was having a field day; I’d probably never hear the end of it. “I can take care of things from this end,” Peters said, “and I can call the county sheriffs to let them know you may be dropping by.”

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll drive over there tomorrow and make a start.”

“So are we going to look for somewhere to stay inside the search area?” I said to Lucy as we wandered back to the hotel.

“I vote we stay where we are and drive there each day so that we’ll be on hand if there are any developments with the investigation here,” Lucy said.

“Your vote wouldn’t have anything to do with the quality of the accommodation we’re likely to find over there, would it?”

“I’m taking the fifth,” she said. “I’m going to call Brenda when we get back to the hotel,” she said, “to make sure she’s managing okay.”

“I doubt she’s been rushed off her feet,” I said.

“I think we should invite Shakes and Jillian for dinner tonight,” Lucy said. “Jacky and Tommy too, if they’re all free. We can update them on the state of play.”

So that’s what we did. It was Friday evening and Jacky was working, but we arranged to meet the others at eight in the hotel and let them choose the venue. We ate in a steakhouse and we told them our news.

“We can help with that, can’t we Shakes?” Tommy said through a mouthful of steak. “We got more than sixty guys in the Scouts be willing to ride up there on Sunday and ask around. We can split up the territory and if we all have a copy of the photograph we could cover the whole area in a day.”

“It’s a thought,” Shakes said. “What d’you guys think?”

“That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it Kane?” Lucy said.

“It’s a generous offer. Let’s see how far Lucy and I get first; but we may well take you up on that later.”

“You didn’t seem too keen on Tommy’s idea,” Lucy said when we got back to the hotel. “I think it’d be an excellent way to cover the ground; it’s a big area.”

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful Lucy, but in the first instance I want to keep our inquiries discreet. If Marisa and Vicky are still being held in that area the last thing I want to do is spook their captors. If we do that they’re either going to run or destroy the evidence. The way I see it there are three possibilities. One, the girls are already dead. Two, they’re far away someplace. Three, if we’re lucky, they’re still alive and being kept somewhere in that circle. If they’re still there then there’s a good chance we’ll find them eventually. If they’re still alive now I want to keep it that way. Tommy and Shakes mean well, I know that, but I’m concerned that it would be counter-productive. I imagine a horde of bikers suddenly showing up is likely to freak the locals out, however good-intentioned it may be.”

“Yes, you’re right I guess. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Let’s try it my way first and see what happens. We’ll drive up there tomorrow and get the lay of the land at least.”

But, as things turned out, we wouldn’t be driving up there the following day because the investigation was about to take on a new urgency. Had I known about the events that were about to unfold as I lay in bed replete with a stomach-full of food and booze, drifting lazily to sleep, I would have been reminded of the Scottish poet Rabbie Burns’ famous observation: ‘The best-laid schemes o' mice an’ men gang aft agley’.

Chapter Thirteen

A New Development

The call came from Peters soon after we left the hotel parking lot, before we’d even reached the city limits.

“If the pair of you are still in town I’d like you to get right over here. If you’ve left town already I suggest you turn back; something’s come up.”

Although the call was made to me, Lucy had picked up my cell phone off the dash.

“We haven’t left the city yet,” she said. “What’s happened − it’s not bad news is it?”

Lucy put the phone back on the dash. “It’s something important; he said it wasn’t directly bad news, whatever that means, but he wants us there now.”

Luckily, we hadn’t gotten far. We’d left later than intended because we’d been poring over the maps Peters had given us to work out an itinerary.

“Well if it’s something that’s going to move this investigation forward I’ll be all ears. Maybe somebody’s come forward with some information. Those posters of the Regenerators are all over the city. There was even one in the restaurant where we ate last night.”

“Just so long as it’s something positive,” Lucy said. “I was real hopeful we were going to get a lead today.”

Lieutenant Sam Richards, one of two lieutenants in the Greene County CID, was in the room with Peters when we arrived. He introduced himself and Peters invited us to sit down.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Richards said. “I expect you’re wondering what all this is about. You want to tell them Matt or shall I?”

“Well maybe I’ll just put them in the picture, and then you can take over,” he said. “We had a young lady come forward about the group in the picture you gave us. She says she recognizes some of the people in the group – two of the guys and one of the women. She’s not sure about the other two.”

“When did she see them,” Lucy said.

“You better let me tell you the whole story,” Peters said. “The young lady’s named Pauline Blye. About ten months ago her room-mate at the college went missing. Her room-mate’s name was Cindy Stamper. She was found five months later near a village called Hope Creek in Henry County. A couple out walking their dog found her remains. They weren’t particularly well concealed – they’d been placed in a shallow grave, but the body was exposed when it was found. I guess the dog picked up the scent. It’s in a pretty remote area though, so it could’ve lain there for a lot longer if they hadn’t happened by. As it was the medical examiner reckoned she’d been dead about four months. That was a pretty rough estimate I imagine, but they have their ways of working these things out. I don’t have much information about it I’m afraid, but Sam here will probably need to follow up on it now. Why don’t you take over Sam?”

“We weren’t directly involved in the investigation,” Richards said, “even though they were subsequently able to identify the body as Cindy’s. It was way out of our jurisdiction; but I know the investigation didn’t turn up anything useful. However, Miss Blye was informed, naturally, and the unfortunate victim was taken off the active missing persons list. There was no question of Miss Blye being asked to identify the body – the decomposition would have made that impossible. You can imagine; she’d been dead since about May and her body had lain there through the summer. It gets pretty hot and humid during the summer months. Identification was established by DNA. However, just to connect the dots, Miss Blye saw one of the posters Matt has had put up around town – you’ve probably seen them.”

“Here,” Matt said, passing one over to me.

“Well as you can see it says that the two teenage girls at the rear are missing and the police are trying to identify the others in the group,” Sam said. “There’s nothing to say they’re considered to be responsible of course, just that we’re trying to trace them to see if they have any useful information. Anyhow, to make a long story short, Miss Blye is sure that she saw Cindy with at least some of the members of that group shortly before her disappearance – maybe a day or two before. She didn’t make the connection with Cindy’s disappearance at that time, but she’s come forward now so I’m in the process of interviewing her. I’ve only taken a preliminary statement from her so far, but I’ll be continuing after this meeting.”

Lucy had visibly paled and her voice cracked as she asked, “How did she die?”

“The medical examiner wasn’t able to determine the cause of death. I don’t think there’s much doubt that it was a homicide, given the place and manner of her burial, but the coroner found that he could say no more than that she’d apparently had an unlawful burial. That’s strongly indicative of homicide, but you know how cautious these coroners are. The body had been unearthed, probably by wild animals. Some of the internal organs were missing – the kidneys – probably eaten by scavengers. She could possibly have died accidentally I guess and someone panicked and hid her body. Without a cause of death, it’s a matter of speculation. It’s one of those cases where what we know in our gut can’t be proved; but it seems that the persons in the photograph may have some answers – if we can locate them.”

“It isn’t just the identification of some of the members of the group by Miss Blye,” Matt said. “It won’t have escaped you that the location where the body was found is in the same general area where we believe Marisa and Vicky were taken. It seems to me that you might find it helpful to drive over there on Monday and we’ll see if we can arrange for you to see the location where the remains were found. There may also be details of the investigation into that case that we’re not aware of. In any case I think you should go look at where the body was found – if the girl was killed by members of the group then it may have been buried quite near to where they were living. If I had a body to dispose of I’d want to get rid of it quickly.”

“I’m sure you’re right. In the circumstances I think we’d better drive up there today,” I said. “If I’m going to be questioning people in that area I’d like to have a picture of Cindy with me too. It seems like I’ve got two cases to investigate now.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I don’t think you’re going to find the investigation into Cindy’s death will be active any more, but the file will still be open and you may be able to breathe some new life into the investigation; I’m sure the sheriff up there won’t have any problem with that. But if you wait until Monday it’ll give me time to complete my interview with Miss Blye and make arrangements for you to see the right people. Miss Blye may be able to remember other details with a bit of prompting, especially since now we have a photograph of these animals,” he said. Richards excused himself but Peters’ motioned us to stay behind.

“The big question now,” I said, “is what to do next. The most obvious thing would be to ask other law enforcement departments to distribute a picture of the suspects in their areas; the problem I see with that is the risk of the group being alerted to the fact that they’re being sought in relation to the death of Cindy and the disappearance of Marisa and Vicky. This is a big country, and we don’t have sufficient information about this group to track them down if they flee. Not only that, if Marisa and Vicky are still alive I think that it might put them at grave risk. Of course I have a particular reason for wanting whoever they are to remain put and hopefully oblivious of the fact that we may be getting near them, so I think it would be a mistake to raise a general hue and cry at this point.”

“Well you needn’t have any concerns about that on my account,” Philips said. “I have enough on my plate here. We’ve got a rising crime rate in Springfield and right now we’re number five on a list you don’t want to be on at all. To be frank, while I sympathize with the plight of these two young girls my duty is principally to the citizens who live and work within the Greene County jurisdiction, and while I’m happy to give you all the assistance I can I’m content to leave the ball in your court as far as your investigation is concerned. As for Sam, I guess he’ll simply be passing the record of interview with Miss Blye to the sheriff’s office in Clinton. Of course, if anyone else comes forward with information that might be of interest to you I’ll let you know.”

“The only glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel at the moment,” I said to Lucy as we drove the short distance back to the hotel, “is that the autopsy of poor Cindy suggests that she lived for some time after her abduction. That gives us a little hope that our girls may still be alive too.”

“But there’s nothing we can really do now until Monday, is there?” she said.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. I suggest we take the rest of today off, and tomorrow too. If nothing else comes up over the weekend we’ll take a drive up into the mountains tomorrow, perhaps into Arkansas. We’ll give our brains a rest and try not to think about the case too much; that way we’ll work better next week. You mustn’t lose sight of the fact that this is a job, after all; and everyone needs to give their little gray cells a rest now and then.”

I called Roberts during the afternoon and told him we’d be shifting the focus of the investigation to the north east of Springfield the following week. We’d had some promising leads, I told him truthfully, and as yet we had no evidence to suggest that any harm had come to Marisa. That was truthful too, although I didn’t say we had no reason to suspect that some harm may have befallen her, nor did I tell him about the finding of Cindy’s body or the sighting of the group of suspected kidnappers by Cindy’s former room-mate. These were all things we needed to know, but there was no reason to share information with him that would cause him even greater concern than what he felt already. We didn’t call Jillian or Jacky, Shakes or Tommy either. Lucy and I needed some time to ourselves. After I put the phone down I took my own advice and switched off for the weekend.

Lucy decided to have her hair done, which took several hours. I could never figure how it could take three hours to have your hair cut, but I guess they have to justify those prices somehow. While she was having it washed and cut and washed again and styled and dried and so on I went for a walk downtown. I found a bookshop and bought all three volumes of Stieg Larsson’s novel about the girl with the dragon tattoo. I’d been meaning to read them for years and maybe Jacky’s tattoos had reignited the idea deep in the recesses of my brain. I was sitting on the bed, my head propped up by pillows with a partly consumed glass of whiskey. We’d just finished some Chinese food we’d ordered in; or rather I’d just finished my half. Lucy had left much of it untouched after declaring that it wasn’t authentic enough. She did that occasionally since she’d got into Asian cooking; it was mildly annoying.

“It’s not meant to be authentic,” I said. “It’s supposed to taste good. It’s been adapted for the American palate. I spent a month in India once and I can tell you they never even heard of most of the stuff we eat in Indian restaurants here.”

“I was skimming through that book you’re reading when you were in the bathroom,” she said. “It’s full of characters with unpronounceable names.”

“They’re Scandinavian names,” I said, putting the book face down on the bedside table with a sigh. Her intervention was a deliberate attempt to distract me. “It’s a Swedish book about Swedish people.”

“What’s it about then?”

“As a matter of fact it’s about a missing person,” I said. “A woman. Only in this case she’s been missing for a very long time. I’m surprised you haven’t seen the movie.”

“I’d like to go there sometime,” Lucy said, dreamily. “You know, Europe; the cradle of civilization. Search for my roots.”

“That might not be such a good idea,” I said. “I heard your grandfather left under something of a cloud.”

“Who told you that?” she said, with more than a tinge of outrage in her voice.

“Buzz Skeets,” I said. “Soon after I first met you. I suspect as a means of trying to put me off.”

“Buzz Skeets was a creep,” she said. “He probably invented that because I wouldn’t let him make out with me when he took me to the prom.”

“If he was such a creep why did you go to the prom with him?”

“Nobody else asked me. Geez, I was fifteen with no date.”

“And why do you think nobody else asked you?” I said.

“I was kind of a gawky-looking kid in those days,” she said.

“You looked pretty hot when I first met you.”

“That’s because I was an ugly duckling,” she said. “And then I transformed into the beautiful swan you see before you now,” she added, preening herself in front of the mirror. “And I’ve maintained my looks by adopting sensible eating habits, exercising regularly and largely avoiding alcohol,” she said, giving me a look that was supposed to mean something.

“So it’s not true then; about your grandfather?”

“What did he tell you?”

“That he breached some kind of honor code in the Cosa Nostra and had to flee.”

Lucy put her hands on her hips and stared at me. “My grandfather was a hard-working devoted family man.”

“But he was from Sicily,” I goaded her.

“He was from Naples, not Sicily.”

“Pretty close,” I said.

Lucy threw herself on top of me and tried to suffocate me with a pillow. “Well your ancestors probably raped and pillaged,” she said.

“Not recently I hope,” I said, as I wrestled the pillow away from her. She lay on her back staring up at the ceiling.

“What is pillaging, anyway?” she said.

“I think it’s what we refer to as robbery these days. But it was considered acceptable in those days, I believe. If you won the battle you were entitled to take the other guy’s stuff.”

“And I guess they didn’t have cops in those days,” she said.

“It was a simpler life all round, so I believe.”

“Buzz Skeets,” she said. “God, I didn’t think I’d ever hear that name again. Did he really tell you that?” she said, propping herself up on her elbow and looking at me earnestly. I grinned at her wickedly, making my eyebrows dance a jig, and she grabbed the pillow again.

Chapter Fourteen

Clinton

“I hope you managed to relax a bit over the weekend,” Peters said.

“Yes,” Lucy said, “we drove up into the mountains and had lunch in Branson. It’s beautiful up there.”

“Even better in the summer,” Peters said. “I’m afraid Miss Blye wasn’t able to provide any further information about the group. Cindy never mentioned any of them to her − she said she wouldn’t have made the connection if she hadn’t seen the poster. But it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore obviously.”

“So who do we look for in Clinton?” I said.

“The sheriff is Kent Benson. I haven’t contacted him yet, but I’ll do it now and try to arrange for you to be taken to where the body was found and if possible talk to the medical examiner who examined the remains, although I don’t know where that examination would have taken place. It wouldn’t have been conducted locally – they don’t have those facilities in Clinton. I’d guess the autopsy was conducted in Jackson County. If so, it’s about an hour’s drive from Clinton, although you may prefer to talk to the examiner on the phone. Anyway they’ll have the report in Clinton; that may be sufficient for you. Seems to me it’s the location where the body was found that may be most useful, since nobody’s able to say how the victim died.”

“Okay, we’re good to go,” I said. “I guess they’ll have some pictures of Cindy there.”

“I’m sure they will, but I’ve got some prints that Miss Blye provided us with last year. Here,” he said, handing them to me.

I looked at one of the photographs and saw a girl wearing brown tortoise-shell glasses and a rather earnest expression. She was staring at a computer monitor and the taker of the picture, perhaps Miss Blye, had apparently taken the photograph without alerting her subject to it.

“Okay, well we’d better make a move,” I said.

*

The Henry County sheriff’s office was on Main Street and we arrived well before lunchtime, after an uneventful ninety-minute drive. We were shown into the office of Sheriff Kent Benson, introduced ourselves and were invited to ‘take a pew’. Benson looked us up and down with his slate-grey eyes. He was a large man in his forties, about six two and solidly built. His hair, cut short, was the color and consistency of steel wool. After a moment he said:

“The dynamic duo. That’s what Matt Peters has nicknamed the pair of you.”

Lucy smiled. “We do our best,” she said.

“Okay, well Matt filled me in on the details of your case. Let me just run through it to make sure I haven’t missed anything.”

He pulled over a pad on which he’d written a few notes and glanced at it for a moment before continuing.

“You’ve been retained by a Mr. Dean Roberts to try and locate his missing daughter, Marisa. She’s nineteen, single and was on a road trip. She stopped off in Springfield in late January together with another young lady by the name of Vicky Boraski. They stayed for a few days with a friend and then left for a few days, probably with a group of individuals who called themselves ‘Regenerators’. Matt faxed me over the picture.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s about it, except that Matt did a trace for us on Marisa’s cell phone. The phone company was able to track her movements on the day she vanished to an area northeast of Springfield; an area that’s bordered to the northwest by Clinton. We have a circle of approximately two-and-a-half thousand square miles – it’s not much to go on. However, we’re certain it was an abduction, and the location where Cindy Stamper’s body was found should enable us to narrow down the area of search – assuming that there’s a connection. The last contact with Marisa was through a message she left on the answering machine at the house where she’d been staying in Springfield. We traced the payphone from where that call was made – a gas station near a small town called Cooper Springs. It’s fairly clear from the message that she was being held by someone against her will. We assume that Vicky and Marisa were both abducted. We have no details of Vicky other than her picture and her name.”

“And her present whereabouts,” Benson said, looking across at us enigmatically, raising one eyebrow – a feat I would struggle to accomplish.

“Excuse me?” I said. “We don’t…”

Benson leaned across the desk toward us. “She’s right here in Clinton,” he said.

Lucy frowned. “What? Where?” she said.

“In the Golden Valley Memorial Hospital, about a five-minute drive from here.”

“Is she okay?” I opened my mouth to say something more but Benson held his hand up to stop me.

“Let me fill you in,” he said. “First, yes as far as I know she’s physically okay – in the sense that she doesn’t appear to have any life-threatening injuries, but…” he paused for a moment, opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a manila file. “She was in a road accident a little over a week ago – on the night of February six. An engineer, name of…” he glanced at the contents of the Manila file in front of him, “Crombie, was headed south from Iowa to Arkansas. It was late at night, raining heavily. He got himself lost after pulling off the highway. Visibility was bad. Suddenly this girl stepped out in front of his car and he couldn’t stop. That’s his story and we’ve no reason to doubt it. The car skidded and hit her broadside. He managed to get her to a local hospital. She was unconscious but almost miraculously didn’t appear to have suffered any broken bones or major internal injuries but she’s remained in a coma since then. After two days she was transferred to the GVM here in Clinton since they’ve got better facilities for dealing with head trauma there. As far as I know she hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

“When did you find all this out?” I said.

“Well we’ve known about it ever since she was transferred here.” He looked at the file again. “Eighth of February. Since the accident we’ve been trying to find out who she is. I found that out just over an hour ago when Matt sent through the photograph. I recognized her instantly.”

“Where did the accident happen?” I said.

“I’ve got a map where I can indicate the approximate location. Unfortunately, I can’t be precise. The driver panicked after the collision and placed the poor girl on the rear seat of his car and then drove to Warsaw – that’s over in Benton County where the girl was initially hospitalized. He shouldn’t have moved her, of course – he ought to have called for an ambulance and stayed put, but different people react differently in these kind of circumstances. Fortunately, as I said, the young lady didn’t have any serious injuries, other than the head trauma, so no harm was done; but when he was asked to retrace his steps the following day to pinpoint where the accident occurred he wasn’t able to do it. So we only have an approximate location which is somewhere near the boundaries of Henry, Benton and St Clair counties.”

“So what’s the current prognosis as far as Vicky is concerned?” I said.

“Well I thought maybe we’d head over to the hospital to find out. From what I understand there’s no sign of internal cranial bleeding, and there’s no fracture either. So far I’ve been told that she could come out of it anytime or she could remain comatose for weeks, months or even years.”

“So from what you’ve told us I assume she had no ID when she was taken to the hospital.”

“She had only the clothes she was wearing. No cell phone, no personal items of any kind. Obviously since the accident occurred we’ve circulated her picture and there have been newspaper pleas for help to identify her but nothing’s come of it. Now that we at least have a name we can maybe make some progress.”

“Well thank God she’s okay,” Lucy said. “I mean obviously not really okay but at least she’s alive. Is she…”

“According to Doctor Fletcher who is in charge of her case there’s no reason to think that she won’t eventually make a complete physical recovery. In his experience it’s often just a matter of time in cases like this. I mean her respiration and all her vital signs are okay as far as I understand. I’m told she’s not in any danger of a relapse. Look…Fletcher can tell you more than I can. I’ve asked my sergeant detective, Phil Spinks, to arrange for you to see him this afternoon. I think I’ll come with you too. I know the real purpose of your visit here today was to inquire about the Stamper girl, but I guess this will have to take precedence for the time being.”

“Yes, I agree,” I said. “I guess Matt told you about the possible connection between Cindy’s disappearance and our current inquiry?”

“Sure, I understand that. Prior to this development I was going to arrange for you to talk to the medical examiner that performed the autopsy, but I guess that’ll have to wait for the time being.”

“From what Matt told us the medical examiner won’t be able to shed any light on the cause of Cindy’s death.”

“But there’s been another development,” Benson said. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“What kind of development?” I said.

Benson drew a deep breath, let it out slowly and said, “I’m afraid there’s been another body found.”

“Another…”

“It was found just a mile from Cindy’s body. A couple were out walking their dog soon after dawn on Saturday morning with their kids. The dog must’ve picked up the scent and it started to dig; got all excited. They called the police and they located the body about eighteen inches down. It was a young girl, dead for no more than a week or two.”

“Oh Christ,” Lucy gasped. “Was it…”

“We don’t have identification yet,” Benson said. “The body was taken immediately to Jackson County for an autopsy, but there seems little doubt it was a homicide. Both of the victim’s kidneys were missing – they appear to have been surgically removed at or about the time of her death.”

“My God,” Lucy said.

“Look, I don’t want to say too much. It’ll be better to put you in touch with the pathology department over in Jackson, but Miss Stamper’s remains had both kidneys missing too. It was assumed at the time of her autopsy that those organs had been scavenged by wild animals, but now I’m not so sure. It’s likely that the investigation into her death will have to be re-opened.”

The relief of finding Vicky was cruelly overshadowed by this latest news. “I need to get over to see the examiner,” I said. “I have a number of photographs of Marisa and I may well be able to make an ID if the victim had only been recently buried. I hope to God it’s not her, but it seems likely. What’s the view of the medical examiner about the missing kidneys – is that suspected to be cause of her death? I mean you can live with only one kidney as far as I understand, but not without both.”

“It’s too early to say. I only know that the removal of the kidneys and the victim’s death appear to have been proximate.”

“Are we dealing with some kind of maniacs?” I said. “Why the hell would anyone want to remove her kidneys?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Benson said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s what we feared,” I said. “Marisa’s abduction made no sense; there’s no apparent motive – at least not a financial one. I’ve worried all along that as the days passed it was more likely than not that we weren’t going to find Marisa alive.”

“It may not be her,” Lucy said. “Let’s keep our hopes alive. Does the description of the victim match any known missing person?”

“Again, it’s too early to say. Have you got accommodation arranged here yet?” Benson asked.

“No, not yet; we were planning to head back to Springfield but obviously this changes everything.”

“I’ll get that organized for you, don’t worry,” Benson said. There was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Phil,” Benson said as his sergeant entered, “Come and meet Kane and Lucy.”

Spinks didn’t say “The dynamic duo?” but I could tell he was thinking it.

Chapter Fifteen

Vicky

“We know more about the dark side of the moon than we do about the intricacies of the human brain,” Doctor Fletcher said, as Sheriff Benson, Lucy and I sat in an arc around his desk in his office on the second floor of the Golden Valley Memorial Hospital.

“There is no physical reason that we can ascertain as to why Vicky should be in a coma. There’s no swelling of the brain, no indication of any internal damage whatsoever. But this isn’t unusual. I’ve been specializing in cases of head trauma for over thirty years and I’m afraid to say I’ve learned almost nothing new in all that time. To all intents and purposes Miss Boraski is a fit and healthy young woman. She received a severe traumatic injury to her skull but was lucky in that no real damage appears to have been done. She is being fed intravenously and given physiotherapy. She’s in no need of any medication. It’s a game of ‘wait and see’ I’m afraid.”

“Does she respond to any external stimuli?” I said. “Voices, sounds…that kind of thing?”

“Well her reflexes are normal. There’s no indication of nerve damage. Certainly there’s no indication of brain injury either. It’s perfectly possible that she’s aware of what’s going on around her and yet is unable to respond. We don’t know.”

“I’ve heard that in cases like this familiar sounds, voices – things like that – can help,” Lucy said.

“Yes, you’re quite right. Now we know who she is we may be able to start making progress. If we could trace her family, and let her hear some familiar voices, it might help. You see there’s no reason to believe that her aural senses have been adversely affected. As I said, she may very well be able to hear what’s going on around her but simply be unable to physically respond. There’ve been many documented cases where patients have been comatose for years and recovered. They tell us that they knew what was happening around them. There’ve been some ghastly cases where the patient listened to conversations about switching off life support and were powerless to do anything about it. It’s quite frightening really.”

“Is there anything you think we can do to help?” Lucy said.

Fletcher looked at Lucy. He rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, I think maybe there is,” he said. “It may come to nothing of course, but from what Kent told me earlier I understand you know something of her life before this accident occurred. Ideally, of course, we need to trace her family, and hopefully now we know who she is we’ll eventually be able to do that – but in the meantime, Lucy – may I call you Lucy?”

“Yes, of course,” Lucy said.

“Well in the meantime you know as much about her as anybody, and this may help.”

Lucy leaned over and rested her elbow on Fletcher’s desk, put her hand to her forehead and gazed at Dr. Fletcher earnestly.

“Doctor, you know our situation. Kane and I are desperate to find out what happened to her and Marisa,” she said. “Vicky’s the best chance we have – the only chance we have. She must have all the answers. And of course we want to help Vicky too. Tell me what I can do.”

Dr. Fletcher leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them and said:

“From what you told me earlier we can deduce that Vicky was abducted and possibly subjected to a terrifying ordeal of some sort. We can only surmise that somehow she escaped from her abductors and fled. In the course of that flight she was knocked down by a vehicle and suffered some physical trauma to her head, but it’s possible – very possible – that whatever psychosomatic trauma she experienced before her accident has contributed to the medical state that she now exhibits. Little is known about these things from a scientific or medical point of view, but experience has shown that non-medical intervention can often help.” Fletcher looked at Lucy. “It’s not going to take five minutes; you realize that?”

Lucy looked at me. I nodded.

“We don’t care how long it takes. Just tell me what to do.”

“Alright, well this is what I have in mind,” Fletcher said. “You told me earlier that you learned from your inquiries what Marisa and Vicky did for the few days before she vanished. Rack your mind for as many details as possible. Then you must sit by her bed and recount these matters to her – in a kind of conversational way if possible. It may be – it just may be – that this will stir something inside her to awaken her. But I have to say it’s not an easy job I’m giving you and it may turn out to be a thankless task. You’re going to need great reserves of patience. Are you up for it?”

I hadn’t spoken for quite a while so this seemed like an opportune time.

“Doctor Fletcher,” I said, “You’ve just given Lucy the opportunity of a lifetime – to speak whatever enters her head without fear of interruption for an indeterminate period of time. She’ll walk it. She’ll be in her element.”

Lucy gave me a thump on the thigh in full sight of the gathering which, with great professional aplomb I thought, pretended they hadn’t noticed; but she was smiling broadly too.

“Well that’s settled then,” Fletcher said. “I understand that you have other matters to investigate in this vicinity, Mr. Kane. I trust you can manage for the time being without your partner.”

My assistant, I thought, but I didn’t correct him. “I’ll manage somehow,” I said, rubbing my thigh and trying to get the circulation going again.

“Now we can arrange accommodation for Lucy here in the hospital if you like,” Fletcher said.

Before I had the chance to reply to what sounded like a splendid idea Lucy said:

“Sheriff Benson has kindly offered to arrange some accommodation for us and I think Kane and I ought to stay together in case he has any matters he needs to discuss with me relating to the investigation; but I can be here for as long as you need me each day.”

“Okay,” Fletcher said. “If you can make yourself available for perhaps six hours a day – three hours in the morning and three in the afternoon that should suffice. We’ll provide meals for you and somewhere comfortable for you to rest. We’ll try it for two or three days and see if we make any progress.”

“It was kind of Dr. Fletcher to offer to accommodate you,” I said to Lucy as we left the building. “I’d be quite alright on my own.”

“There are too many bars in this town for me to let you be on your own,” Lucy said.

“Bars can be a very valuable source of information,” I said.

“Bars can be a very dangerous source of inebriation,” Lucy countered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight after dark.” She looked askance at me as we sauntered over to the car. “And I’ll be joining you at lunchtime, too,” she said.

Chapter Sixteen

The Moment of Truth

We needed to get back to Springfield and check out of our hotel, but the need for me to get over to Jackson County was more urgent, so we decided that Lucy would drive back to Springfield. She could return in the morning so that she could start her duties in the hospital. In the meantime, Lucy would try to recall every detail of Vicky’s time in Springfield before she vanished and make some notes. Sheriff Benson would arrange for me to be escorted to Jackson County. I didn’t want Lucy to be there when I identified the body. We had a sandwich and some coffee and Lucy headed back to the hotel in Springfield. Phil Spinks was to drive me to see the medical examiner.

During the drive I tried to stay optimistic. Maybe it wasn’t Marisa. But whoever it was her death was going to devastate her family. I guessed that the autopsy of the newly discovered body would already be underway. I could also study the report of Cindy’s autopsy and, if necessary, talk to the medical examiner who conducted it. That would depend on the contents of the report and the credentials of the examiner. If the examination was conducted by a forensic pathologist it would be a lot more useful than if it had simply been conducted by a physician. Somehow I doubted it would have been. It had apparently been written off as an unexplained death, perhaps natural, perhaps not. I was sure it wasn’t, but then I knew more than they did. Anyway, Cindy’s manner of death would have to be reconsidered in the light of the new evidence.

“In a way, the location where Cindy’s body was found and the manner in which it was concealed is probably more important to our inquiry than the manner of the death itself,” I said to Spinks, as we drove west. “It might help to narrow our area of search for the culprits. So whether the body is Marisa’s or not I’ll need to go to the locations where the bodies were found.” We drove on in silence for a while, and then Spinks said:

“Do you think it’s worth contacting the driver again who knocked Vicky down? I mean I know he said he couldn’t remember where the accident occurred, but it might be worth another try. Wherever it was must be relatively close to where the girls were being held – after all she was on foot.”

“Let’s contact him and give it a try,” I said. “He’s probably been keeping in touch with the hospital to follow-up on Vicky’s progress. It’s likely he’ll be willing to help – I know I would in similar circumstances.”

“I wonder how Vicky got away,” he said.

I’d had the same conversation with Lucy while we were eating our lunch.

“When I wake her up we’ll no doubt find out,” she’d said.

“If you wake her up,” I said.

Lucy leaned over the table, and looked at me intently. “When I wake her up,” she said.

*

As we made our way to the medical examiner’s office in Kansas City Lucy called me from the hotel. The first thing she’d done when she got back to Springfield was to call Dean Roberts to update him on our progress. I wished we had better news – that it had been Marisa in the hospital instead of Vicky. Then I berated myself for thinking like that. Vicky was just as important to her family as Marisa was to hers. She didn’t tell Roberts about the discovery of the body; she didn’t want to alarm him. We’d agreed that unless and until we were certain that the body was Marisa’s we’d keep that to ourselves. But I marveled at how fate had intervened to help us this far – if Cindy’s body hadn’t been found then we probably wouldn’t have travelled to Clinton, Vicky’s identity would still be unknown to the authorities there and her location wouldn’t have been known to us. And there was still hope that Vicky would recover and be able to help us, although time wasn’t on our side, and it might be too late for Marisa. I told Lucy of the plan to contact Glen Crombie, the driver of the car that had knocked Vicky down.

“If we can find the location where the accident occurred then I’m hopeful that we can narrow the search to a manageable area. In the meantime, we must keep our fingers crossed that we can somehow assist in Vicky’s recovery.”

“And that the body isn’t Marisa’s,” Lucy said firmly.

“That too.”

“I called Jillian to tell her the news and without hesitation she said she’d come with me in the morning to Clinton and help try to revive Vicky,” Lucy said. “She insisted; she pointed out that her voice would be familiar to Vicky whereas mine wouldn’t, and anyway she’ll have more recollection of what Vicky did in those few days before she disappeared.”

I wasn’t surprised. From the little I knew of Jillian and her friends I knew they’d be anxious to help.

“Tell her to bring the tape of Marisa’s voice,” I said.

During the drive to Kansas City Spinks gave me a run-down on what to expect.

“The Jackson County Medical Examiner’s Office is the only National Association of Medical Examiners accredited medical examiner’s office in the State of Missouri,” he said. “It’s staffed with Board Certified Forensic Pathologists, Board Certified or Registered Medical Legal Death Investigators and Forensic Technicians, and it’s recognized as one of the best in the country. Most autopsies in cases of suspected unnatural deaths in Missouri are conducted there unless the cause of death is obvious, like a gun death.”

The drive took almost two hours as we hit heavy traffic on the edge of the city. I was ambivalent about the length of the journey – on one hand I wanted to get there and get it over with as quickly as possible, but on the other hand I was subconsciously reluctant to face it. I’d seen the victims of violent death many times during my fifteen years in the job, broken sad news to many families and loved ones. It’s something that you never get used to. I pictured Roberts in his wing chair in his sitting room in Boston and I could feel his grief. But if the body was Marisa’s there’s nothing anybody could have done. She’d probably been dead since before we left Boston. I knew so little about her – a few snapshots, the brief history of her upbringing, the impression she’d made on her new friends in Springfield. I’d imagined finding her and reuniting her with her father. And now, as I walked down the empty corridor towards the medical examiner’s office, listening to the echoing sound of my own footsteps on the linoleum floor, I dug my teeth hard into my bottom lip to keep my emotions from showing.

We were shown into the office of Sally Bowman, the interim chief medical examiner. She was sitting at her desk and rose to meet us as we entered. After a brief introduction she led us to the mortuary. On the way she explained that the preliminary examination was complete but that some organ and tissue samples had been sent for analysis. She told me that Sheriff Benson had informed her that I was attending for the purpose of identification of the victim; she knew nothing about my investigation – her job was to simply determine the manner and cause of death. Time seemed to have speeded up somehow. It was like those last precious days of vacation before you went back to school – they passed, or seemed to pass, unnaturally quickly. It seemed that one moment I was getting out of the car and the next I was standing next to a refrigerated drawer gliding out almost soundlessly. I steeled myself – not because the sight of death frightened me, but because it was the moment of truth.

Chapter Seventeen

The Red Market

“It’s not her,” I said. “It’s not Marisa.”

I heard Lucy exhale. “Thank God,” she said.

“I need to spend some more time here with the medical officer – it’s a lady by the way. She knows nothing about our investigation; it’s not her job. But I want to try to make sense of everything and she’s agreed to discuss the matter with me off the record. She was rather reluctant at first but I’ve explained that there’s another life at risk and so I’m going to see her again at five o’clock. Then later I’m going to call Roberts. I’m not going to tell him about Cindy or the latest victim – there’s no need – but Spinks is going to contact Glen Crombie. Spinks thinks it’s worth trying again to see if he can locate the place where the accident happened. I know he wasn’t able to remember before but he was probably still in shock then. It may be that with my help we can find the approximate location of the accident. It’s the best chance we have of finding out where Vicky had come from that night. I’ll see you and Jillian in the morning. Benson’s apparently arranged some accommodation for us so I’ll call you again this evening when we get back to Clinton.”

“Okay I’m going to call Jillian,” she said.

“And I’m going to have a stiff drink,” I said.

At five I returned to Sally’s office with Spinks and we gave her a brief account of the inquiry. I explained that I had reason to believe that Marisa and Vicky had been abducted by the people responsible for the deaths of Cindy Stamper and Jane Doe, the as yet unidentified body in the mortuary. I told her that Vicky was safe but comatose in the hospital in Clinton and that we were trying to locate the place where she and Marisa had been taken when they left Springfield.

“I appreciate that none of this has any bearing on your work,” I said, “but I want to try to make sense of what happened to the two deceased girls. It now seems very likely that Cindy’s death was a homicide, although I understand that the original examination of her body was inconclusive.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Sally said. “Of course we’ll have to reconsider our findings in relation to Cindy. It’s going to be necessary to exhume her remains I’m afraid. As you know, it was originally believed that her missing kidneys were the result of scavenging by animals, but we need to look more closely at the body in the light of the findings in relation to Jane Doe. There’s no doubt that her death was caused as an indirect result of the surgical removal of one of her kidneys. The loss of a kidney itself would not necessarily have been fatal, of course. As I’m sure you know, some people donate a kidney to help save a life and, provided the surgical procedure is carried out properly, the removal of a kidney from an otherwise healthy individual should have no adverse long-term effect on the donor’s health or life-expectancy. But in the case of the unfortunate Miss Doe the surgery was botched. The cause of death was a post-operative infection by what is commonly known as a superbug − Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. That’s a bacterial infection which, as its name suggests, is resistant to all but the most powerful antibiotics. Unless the bacteria is promptly identified and dealt with death is inevitable. Even with swift and appropriate treatment such infections are often fatal.”

“But surely she would have died from the removal of both kidneys anyway, wouldn’t she?”

“The second kidney wasn’t removed until after her death, or at least not until the infection had become critical.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because of the progression of the infection. It’s clear the infection was well advanced, which means she didn’t die for several days − perhaps a week − after she contracted the infection. During that week her other kidney must have still been functioning.”

“So let me get this straight. One of her kidneys was removed. Then she developed a serious infection. Then after a week or so the other kidney was removed – either shortly before or after her death?”

“Those are my preliminary findings, yes. The examination of her body was relatively simple because I estimated that she hadn’t been dead for longer than ten to twelve days. The body of Miss Stamper had apparently been buried initially but, perhaps because of foraging by animals or because of weathering of the soil, her body had been exposed to the elements for some time before it was discovered. And of course the decomposition of her body was much further advanced.”

I sat trying to take all of this in.

“Can you suggest any reason why these girls had their kidneys removed?” I said. “Why would it be necessary to remove a kidney?”

“Look, Mr. Kane, all this is off the record, you understand? My job is to determine the cause of death. It’s no part of my job to speculate about anything else.”

“Of course,” I said. “I fully understand that.”

“There’s only one reason that I can think of off-hand,” Sally said.

“Which is?”

“The red market,” she said, looking up at me.

“In Missouri?” I said, making no attempt to mediate my astonishment.

“So you know what I’m referring to?” she said.

“Yes – the illegal trade in human organs. I’ve read about it in third-world countries. But here, in the United States? It’s incredible,” I said.

“Well, you’re the detective, but wasn’t it Sherlock Holmes who said “When you’ve eliminated the impossible whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”

“But…”

“Let me give you a few facts,” she said. “Let’s start with some statistics. Only about seventy thousand kidneys are transplanted world-wide each year. Right now there are over one hundred thousand people waiting for kidney transplants in the US alone. Every day, on average, twelve of them will die. Last year over four thousand people died while waiting for a suitable transplant. When rich people face the prospect of death their principles tend to take a back seat, and some of the surgeons who operate on them tend not to ask too many questions about the origin of the organs they obtain. According to the World Health Organization about one fifth of kidney transplants involve an illegally obtained kidney, and the price of an illegally harvested kidney can be as high as $160,000.”

I raised my eyebrows as I took that in. “But doesn’t there have to be a match?” I said. “I thought that donors of kidneys had to have a close family connection.”

“That used to be the case, but with the development of drugs that prevent tissue rejection it’s now possible to transplant a kidney from a total stranger. The problem nowadays is more about infection. A donor kidney from an illegal source is more likely to be infected with Hepatitis or possibly HIV – especially kidneys from third world countries. In this case, one of the kidneys would have been contaminated with MRSA.”

“A hundred and sixty thousand dollars,” I said. “People have been murdered for a lot less than that.”

“Well I’m not suggesting murder necessarily,” Sally said. “Most illegal organs come from willing donors in need of cash. A donor might expect to make $5,000 for donating a kidney on the black market – or the red market as it’s more commonly called. But kidney removal for transplant is not without significant risks. What we have here might be accidental deaths in the course of an illegal organ removal; but the body would still need to be disposed of to conceal the crime and the criminal cause of death.”

“But if Cindy Stamper had lost both of her kidneys it was bound to be fatal.”

Sally thought for a moment or two.

“Suppose you had a donor die during an illegal operation to remove a kidney. You might decide to remove the other kidney rather than let it go to waste. I’m not saying that this is what happened; it’s just an educated guess.”

“But Cindy Stamper wasn’t likely to have been a willing donor,” I said.

“How would you know that?” she said. “People sell their blood; some women sell their bodies for cash. Perhaps she needed money and wasn’t aware of the risks. I appreciate that this is all speculation, of course, but you asked for my opinion.”

“Well I hope your theory’s correct, if I can call it a theory, because Marisa certainly wasn’t in need of money. But then why would this group have abducted her? I’m sorry, I’m not expecting an answer to that, I was just thinking aloud.”

“From what you’ve told me it doesn’t seem to make sense, I agree. Illegal harvesting of body parts for gain is, by its nature, a covert business; so you wouldn’t want to invite a stranger along. I really can’t hazard a guess as to why they would have abducted Marisa or…”

“Vicky,” I said. “No, it’s a bit of a puzzle.”

We both sat in silence for a while.

“But if Jane Doe died of a Staphylococcal infection then her remaining kidney must have been infected. There’d be no use in removing it for a possible future transplant; the recipient would die.”

Sally looked me straight in the eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “That would be obvious to anyone with even an iota of medical knowledge. So if I’m right you’re dealing with a thoroughly ruthless bunch of individuals. But as St Paul observed ‘the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil’. I imagine in your line of work you’re familiar with that.”

“Thank you, Miss Bowman. With your help I’m beginning to understand what I’m up against here. I’m most grateful. But I mustn’t keep you,” I said, “and I have to get back to Clinton. I’ve still got a missing girl to find.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” she said. “Let’s hope there are no more bodies out there.”

I was lost in thought as we drove back to Clinton, racking my brains for an explanation for Marisa’s disappearance, but comforted by the thought that there was a good chance that she was still alive. And then my thoughts turned to Vicky. She was struck by Crombie’s car on the evening of February six, the same day that Marisa left a message on Jillian’s answering machine. Was that just a coincidence, I wondered? It was late afternoon when Marisa made that call and she’d been alone in the maroon Eldorado with three men. Apparently Vicky had been left behind. Had she somehow managed to escape during their absence? That seemed the most likely explanation. And what would the others have done when they found her gone? They couldn’t possibly know that she’d be incapacitated by an accident; and if that hadn’t happened then Vicky would have been able to lead the police to wherever it was that she and Marisa had been held. What would her captors have done in the circumstances? Leave. That was their only choice. They’d have to abandon wherever it was they were staying. Would they have taken Marisa with them though, or would they have had to silence her for good? And even if she was still alive, where was she?

Back in Clinton Sheriff Benson had made reservations for us at the Black Abbott, a small hotel on the outskirts of the city. Spinks had promised to call Glen Crombie; he’d call me in the morning to arrange for my visit to the scenes where the two bodies had been found. I checked in at the hotel and called Roberts. Timpson answered the phone and told me that Roberts was taking a nap; he’d call me as soon as he awoke. I went down to the hotel bar where the barman persuaded me to try his signature martini. I sat swirling the swizzle stick slowly in the glass. I wasn’t convinced that Sally Bowman had the right handle on the case. The abduction of Marisa and Vicky suggested that the group were intent on harvesting organs from unwilling donors. It was the only thing that made sense to me, especially when the first body belonged to a college undergraduate. If the donors were willing participants, then probably someone knew where they’d gone and would alert the police when they didn’t return. So it seemed more likely that the donors were being forcibly abducted.

Just because Marisa’s body hadn’t been found didn’t mean she was still alive. Vicky was the key to the mystery. She’d have all the answers if they could just wake her up. In the meantime, there was Glen Crombie. We’d try to retrace his movements on the night of the accident and try to determine where it had happened.

The sheriff’s office was doing all they could to help but I couldn’t expect them to mount any operation of their own – at least not yet. Despite my theorizing and speculation there was no hard evidence that the group that Marisa and Vicky had met were connected in any way with the bodies that had been found. Cindy had been seen with the group, or some of the group, before she disappeared, but there was no evidence that they were connected with her disappearance. There was no evidence linking that group with the two bodies that had been discovered. Marisa had told Jillian that she was going with the group to a commune, but Jillian’s account was only hearsay. It was a sufficient basis for suspicion but it didn’t amount to evidence.

Suppose one or more of the members of that group suddenly walked into the Black Abbott hotel, and suppose again that they simply denied having anything to do with the bodies that had been found or the disappearance of Vicky and Marisa? There was no evidence to the contrary to implicate them in any wrongdoing. Unless I could find some hard evidence my investigation wasn’t going to lead anywhere, and Vicky might remain comatose for a considerable time – perhaps indefinitely.

I had to pin my hopes on Crombie and his ability to locate the scene of the accident. Somewhere near there was the place where I was sure the two girls had been held, and if I could pinpoint the accident location it would only be a matter of time before I found the premises. But then I was sure that the premises would be empty now, abandoned by the Regenerators. Regenerators – the name had now taken on a sinister meaning; would-be regenerators of the body, not the mind.

I went back to the room and called Lucy.

“I’m in the Black Abbott,” I told her.

“Is that a bar?”

“No, it’s actually rather a nice hotel. Benson arranged it.”

She and Jillian would leave at the crack of dawn and be in Clinton by eight or eight thirty. Almost as soon as I put the telephone back in its cradle my cell phone rang. It was Timpson, and he put me through to his employer.

“Ah, Kane,” Roberts said weakly, “Lucy called me earlier to bring me up to date.” He paused, and I could hear his labored breathing. “Have there been any further developments?”

“The sheriff’s office is going to arrange for the driver of the car that struck Vicky to return to Clinton in the hope that he can lead me to the location where the accident occurred,” I said. “If he’s able to help with that then we should be able to find out where Vicky and Marisa were being held. Apart from that there’s nothing new – no doubt Lucy explained about Vicky’s situation and her intention to see if she can bring her out of her coma.”

“Yes,” he said. “Please tell the hospital administration that the bill for Vicky’s treatment is to be for my account,” he wheezed. “I want the very best for her, you understand?” There was a pause again. “Someone, somewhere is waiting for her to come home,” he said. “Timpson will make the appropriate arrangements.”

I said I would and I heard Robert’s phone being gently returned to its cradle as he hung up.

I dug out my Stieg Laarson and buried myself in the tale of another missing daughter, far away in the country of my grandmother’s birth.

Chapter Eighteen

The Awakening

I waited until Lucy arrived before going downstairs for breakfast. After years of operating on my own I had gotten used to having Lucy with me for the past couple of months and I realized, with some surprise, that I’d missed her. Well, two heads are better than one, I thought to myself, smiling, even if one of them belongs to a woman.

Jillian had been supplied with a room at the hotel too, and I insisted that it went on my account. She joined us for breakfast.

“This may not be a short visit,” I said to her over my eggs benedict. “Are you okay with your job?”

“Oh they’ll find someone to do the mundane stuff that I have to deal with there, and if they can’t they’ll just appreciate me more when I go back. I told them it was a medical emergency. Actually I left a message on my boss’s answering machine. I guess he’ll be getting it round about now,” she said, looking at her watch and grinning.

“We’ll go to the hospital as soon as we finish up here,” Lucy said, “so you’ll have to manage on your own.”

“I’ll do my best. Spinks is going to arrange for someone to take me to the places where the bodies were found,” I said. “I don’t see how that is going to help our investigation much, except it may help pinpoint the general area where Marisa and Vicky were taken. Anyway, it’ll give me something to do until Crombie arrives.”

“So he’s agreed to come back?” Lucy said.

“Not yet, but I’m sure he will.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, draining her coffee cup. “C’mon Jillian, let’s go wake up Vicky.”

*

Hope Creek was about fifteen miles south east of Clinton, and the creek which lent its name to the small town wound southwards through a lightly wooded area. The two sites where the bodies were found were little more than a mile apart. The police had brought in cadaver dogs to see if they could locate any more bodies. So far nothing else had been discovered but the investigation had only just started and there was a lot of ground to cover. The nearest roadway to the locations where the bodies were found was more than a mile and a half to the east and, but for chance, they might well have remained undiscovered for months or even years. There hadn’t been a murder in the vicinity of Hope Creek in living memory and the townsfolk were just learning how to lock their doors at night.

A wide area around each site had been cordoned off and the search for clues had begun; a painstaking process that was likely to take several days. My escort, a detective by the name of Josh Wilkes, explained that little examination of the surrounding area had been done after Cindy’s body was discovered, and no-one really knew what they were looking for anyway. There’d been no tire tracks found and so it was assumed that the bodies had been carried before being buried, but there were no shoe prints either – hardly surprising given the recent weather, he said. Cindy’s remains had been found above ground, but a shallow grave was identified as her original resting place. It looked like Jane Doe’s grave had been hastily dug and the hole hadn’t been long enough, so she was found in a fetal position only a foot and a half down. The ground had been cold which had slowed the rate of decomposition. Josh explained that when Cindy’s body was discovered the summer sun had partly mummified the remains and the skin resembled a brown parchment.

There were no dwellings nearby and the police had decided that house-to-house inquiries of the nearest houses were unlikely to bear fruit. It was a small community and if anyone had seen or heard anything suspicious they would have come forward already – the whole community was in shock at the discoveries.

We drove back to Clinton and I called in at the hospital to see how Lucy and Jillian were faring. It was the first time I’d set eyes on Vicky and, if I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought she was sleeping soundly. There was barely any movement of her chest under the sheet. Lucy and Jillian were on either side of Vicky’s bed, each holding one of her hands in theirs.

“How’s it going?” I said.

“Nothing yet,” Lucy said. “The physio’s been in a couple of times, and a nurse takes her pulse, blood pressure and temperature every couple of hours. She’s got no physical marks of injury on her but an intern told me that the back of her head was shaved. We’re told that all her readings are normal except that her respiration is low and her pulse slow – but that’s apparently normal too for someone in her condition. So we’ve just been talking to her, talking to each other about her and Marisa. And we played the tape a few times. We’ve no way of knowing if she can hear us; she hasn’t stirred.”

“Well, it’s too soon to expect any results yet,” I said. “Dr. Fletcher isn’t expecting a miracle, but you better keep at it.”

“An intern came and shined a pen light on her eyelids,” Jillian said. “There was no movement of her pupils. He said that any movement was likely to show the first signs of recovery. We want to stay here at lunchtime – the staff will bring us some coffee and sandwiches. How was your morning?”

“I didn’t learn anything from what I saw, except that the burials appear to have been quite hasty; presumably at night-time. They’re examining the terrain around the sites where the bodies were found but it’s too early to expect much progress. I’m going to head over to the sheriff’s office to see if he’s been able to contact Crombie. I haven’t heard anything from him all morning but there may not have been a cell phone signal where we were – it’s pretty remote. But if Crombie can confirm where the accident took place it’ll be interesting to see how close it is to where the bodies were found.”

Back at the sheriff’s office I located Phil Spinks, who was on a coffee break.

“Crombie’s out of town for a couple of days to see some clients,” he said. “His company has sent a message to him. I had to tell them it wasn’t a matter of urgency, but we hoped he’d be able to make his way here within the next few days. There’s not much more I can do at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“Could we copy the picture of my suspects with the two girls, maybe put up some posters? It’s a longshot I know but it’s frustrating not being able to do anything and I’ve this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that time’s running out.”

“I’ll talk to Kent, see what he thinks,” he said.

“Any idea who the latest victim is?”

“Not yet, we’re working on it. I’m liaising with the other sheriff’s offices to see if her description matches any known missing person, but she may not have been a local girl.”

“There’s something else – you probably know about it already. Matt Peters issued some information about a maroon-colored Eldorado Cadillac which is known to have conveyed the suspects to a gas station near Cooper Springs a little more than a week ago. There’s reason to believe that it was damaged in a collision of some kind and it may have been taken somewhere for repair. In any event it’d be reasonably distinctive if it hasn’t been repaired because it’s got a scrape down the side panels from the driver’s door to the trunk. Can you make sure that the highway boys are on the lookout for it?”

“Sure, I’ll do that. No license number?”

“I’m afraid not. Missouri plates is all I know.”

“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

*

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. Jillian and Lucy went to the hospital each day at nine, broke for lunch and then stayed until five o’clock. I finished the Stieg Laarson trilogy in my room and got to know the story of the hotel barman’s life; he didn’t know why the hotel was called the Black Abbott though. On Thursday afternoon Spinks telephoned to say that Glen Crombie was expected the following morning.

“He’s driving up from Arkansas with his wife.” There was a pause. “She was with him when the accident happened, although she was sleeping. Still, she might be of some help I guess. She was wide awake after they hit Vicky and she might remember something about the scene. Or maybe we’ll find some skid marks on the road somewhere.”

“Is there a good bookshop in town?” I asked him.

“There’s a couple near the courthouse. Christian outfits I think. I’m not much of a reader myself. Haven’t you got one of those gadgets? You know, electronic book gadgets. My kids are into them all the time.”

“I’ll put one on my wish-list,” I said.

I hadn’t told Lucy about my conversation with Sally Bowman. Perhaps I should have – she was my assistant after all. But what good would it do? It was hard enough for me to stomach and I kept telling myself it was only speculation, but deep down I knew it was true –there was no other rational explanation for the removal of the victims’ kidneys. But Lucy already knew that the two bodies were probably linked to the Regenerators – for now that would have to be enough. I got up from the bed and stretched. I decided to go and see how Lucy and Jillian were doing at the hospital.

And then my cell phone rang.

“Kane, she’s waking up! They’re with her now – the doctors. She opened her eyes; I couldn’t believe it. Only for a second; but it was amazing. The doctors are delighted. I’m coming back soon with Jillian. The doctors think that it’s best to let her rest now; they don’t want to rush things. Isn’t it exciting…she’s waking up. I knew she would.”

“Well don’t expect too much. It’ll probably be some time before she’s able to communicate with anybody.”

“I don’t want to leave her, but the doctors think it’s best. They’ll have a nurse sit with her throughout the evening to see if she shows any more signs of recovery; but Fletcher’s very optimistic. He called us his angels.” She laughed and then hung up.

Maybe I wouldn’t need the bookstore after all.

Chapter Nineteen

The Crombies

It was Friday morning. I went with Lucy and Jillian to the hospital after breakfast to check on Vicky’s progress, but after the excitement of the night before there had been no further sign of recovery.

“It’s not unusual,” Fletcher said. “Recovery can be sporadic; we need to be patient. I’m very optimistic that we’ll soon see some real improvement now.”

And he was right. During the morning Lucy called to say that Vicky now had her eyes open and was moving her head slightly in the direction of their voices. There was no doubt that, little-by-little, the synapses in Vicky’s brain were making contact with each other again.

Glen and Catherine Crombie arrived shortly before lunchtime. We met in Sheriff Benson’s office and he introduced us. It was nice to have some good news for them after their drive.

“As the sheriff’s no doubt told you it seems that Vicky is now on the mend at last,” I said. “Her name’s Vicky Boraski, by the way, and I’m a private investigator from Boston. My assistant and I are trying to locate a friend of Vicky’s who disappeared over two weeks ago. We’re hoping that eventually Vicky will be able to shed some light on where she is.”

“We’re so relieved that she’s going to be alright,” Catherine said. “It’s been difficult for us to come to terms with what happened that night. We’re so sorry about everything.”

“Why don’t the three of you get some lunch,” Benson said to me. “Then you can tell Mr. Crombie how you think he can help with your inquiry. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need any assistance from me.”

I drove the Crombie’s to the hotel and called Lucy on the way.

“Can you join us for lunch at the hotel? I’ve got Mr. and Mrs. Crombie here and we’ll all have a chance to talk together. Jillian can stay with Vicky if the doctor’s alright with that.”

Before lunch I brought the Crombies up to speed with my investigation.

“It was good of you both to come. I expect Sheriff Benson explained to you the reason for the request.”

“We understand that you’re anxious to find out where the unfortunate girl had come from before being struck by my car.”

“Let me explain things in a bit more detail. My client’s daughter, a nineteen-year-old named Marisa Roberts, disappeared in Springfield while on a road trip to the West Coast about three weeks ago. He became alarmed when she failed to call him on his birthday on February second. We’ve now discovered that a couple of days before that she and Vicky, who were friends, had left Springfield with a group of people she’d met who claimed to live in a commune. They were due to return after about a week but they failed to do so. There are various reasons, which I needn’t go into now, why we believe that she and Vicky were held against their will by that group of people. We think that Vicky somehow managed to escape from her captors and was running away from wherever she’d been held when the accident occurred. Fortunately, it seems likely that Vicky will make a full recovery in due course but Marisa is still missing and it’s vital that we trace the location where she was, and possibly still is, being held.”

Lucy had shown up while I was explaining the background of my inquiry to the Crombies. I introduced her to them and we settled down to lunch.

“We had no idea that it was so serious, did we Glen?” Catherine said while we were eating. “Of course after the accident we were more concerned with how badly Vicky had been hurt. The police were also trying to find out her identity – that was in Warsaw where we took her to the hospital.”

“I expect you know that I did try to retrace my steps the following day,” Glen said. “But it was dark, windy and raining heavily that night and there was little light. I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention to my immediate surroundings and I just can’t be sure where we were.”

“Well I’d like you to have another try. I believe you’d turned off the highway because of a backup caused by a traffic accident. Do you know which exit you took?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall,” Glen said.

“Well that should be quite easy to check. We know the date and the approximate time so I can find out the location of the accident site. Then we can work from that. How long after you left the highway did the accident happen?”

“Less than an hour I think; perhaps forty-five or fifty minutes. But we weren’t traveling very fast because of the weather. We probably hadn’t traveled more than thirty miles when the accident happened.”

“And how long did it take you to drive to the hospital?”

Glen looked at Catherine, ran the palm of his hand over the top of his scalp and pursed his lips. “Less than half an hour,” he said. “Twenty, twenty-five minutes; about that.”

“Okay, after lunch let’s get out a map and we’ll try to narrow the area where we need to search.”

“There was a slope,” Glen said. “I remember slowing down just before the accident. I couldn’t see out very clearly. There wasn’t much of a moon that night. It was a stinker. But I remember there were trees lining both sides of the road, and she came onto the road from my right – from the west.”

“Well you never know – there may be things you recognize as we drive down that road again. Even if we could narrow it down to two or three miles it would be a great help. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.”

I wondered briefly whether I should tell the Crombies about the two deaths, but I decided against it. Instead I said, “We believe that Marisa may be in potential danger and it’s important that we find her as soon as possible.”

“I quite understand,” Glen said. “Of course I’ll do what I can to help. Have Vicky’s family been told about the accident? I understand from the sheriff that they only recently discovered her identity. Her parents must be frantic with worry.”

“They haven’t traced her family yet, but the worst is behind her. She should make a complete recovery. Of course, if she’d been able to talk to us we could probably have saved you the trouble of coming up here – but unfortunately that hasn’t been possible. We’re hopeful she may be able to give us some useful information soon though.”

We finished our lunch and then drove to the sheriff’s office where Phil Spinks provided us with a detailed map of the surrounding counties. I asked him to check the records to see exactly where the traffic accident had occurred which had prompted Glen to turn off the highway. When he came back with the information I sat down with Catherine and Glen and we tried to figure out roughly where Vicky had been knocked down on that fateful night. Lucy wanted to go back to the hospital and check on Vicky’s progress which seemed more important than her accompanying us on our potential voyage of discovery.

Glen and Catherine had been traveling south on 65 and must have turned off the highway just north of a town called Sedalia. They continued to drive south hoping to get back on the highway but had managed to get themselves lost. After the accident they continued south along the same small road until they saw a sign to Warsaw. Doing the best we could with Glen’s recollection of the time they took to get to the scene of the collision and the time it took to drive to Warsaw we drew a circle with a diameter of about ten miles. We’d start at the top of the circle and drive south, hopefully taking the same route the Crombies had taken and see if anything jogged their memories. If not, we’d at least narrowed the search area. I needed to look at the other circle – the one we’d drawn after receiving the information about Marisa’s phone signal. I went back to the hotel and collected that map from our room and then tried to see if there was any correlation between the two.

After carefully studying the two circles I believed I could narrow the area of search even further – probably to an area of about fifteen to twenty square miles. If Glen could spot the place where the accident happened, then it would enable me to shrink the area of search even further.

I drove back to the sheriff’s office and the three of us set off in the Crombie’s car.

Chapter Twenty

A Fruitless Search

It wasn’t a fruitful search. We decided to drive south from the place where Glen had turned off the highway. He was sure we were traveling on the same road. We didn’t concentrate for the first twenty miles, but then I asked him to pay careful attention. We continued south, driving at no more than twenty-five miles-an-hour and Glen and Catherine gazed out of the windows.

“It all looks more or less the same,” Glen said. “Unfortunately I wasn’t paying much attention to our surroundings, other than keeping an eye out for a place to stop for the night. I’m afraid I was a bit preoccupied at the time; bad day at the office if you know what I mean. It’s been troubling me a lot since. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with thinking about my job, maybe I’d have seen Vicky in time and I wouldn’t have hit her.”

“I don’t think you have any reason to blame yourself. I saw the statement you gave after the accident – Benson has a copy. Vicky was dressed in dark clothing and the visibility was poor.”

“I did hit the brakes,” Glen said, “but the car kind of slid around. I couldn’t avoid her.”

“She’s going to be okay, don’t worry,” I said.

“That’s the sign,” Glen said. “I recognize that at least.”

He was referring to the sign to Warsaw so we knew we’d already passed the spot where the accident happened. We drove back northwards again.

“I’d only be guessing,” Glen said. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to guess.”

“It’s okay, it was a longshot anyway. And at least from your description of the drive I’ve managed to narrow it down to a stretch of road no more than four or five miles long. And we know she came from the west, so that narrows it down further. Unfortunately, we have no idea how far she’d come nor which direction she took to get to the road. Maybe she’ll be able to help with that eventually.”

“Maybe if we came back after dark…” Glen said.

“I don’t think so Glen. You’ve done your best and I can’t ask for more than that.”

“We’d like to see Vicky before we head home,” Glen said, as we drove back to Clinton.

“I’m sure that’ll be no problem; I’ll introduce you to her doctor,” I said.

We stopped by the hospital when we got back to Clinton. Dr. Fletcher asked a nurse to escort Glen and Catherine to Vicky’s room and I stayed behind for a while.

“How long do you think it will be before I can ask Vicky some simple questions about what happened to her,” I said.

“Her improvement is becoming much more rapid now,” Fletcher said. “She’s spoken a few words; she knows where she is and she understands that she’s had an accident. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s up and about in two or three days – after all, there’s nothing physically wrong with her. But…”

“I guess you don’t want me barging in and causing some kind of relapse,” I said.

“It’s not that, Mr. Kane. It’s just that I shouldn’t get your hopes too high. As I told you on Monday there’s a great deal we still don’t understand about how the human brain works. But we do know this – there’s a mechanism in the brain which determines what we remember and what we forget. It’s a mechanism that we have no conscious control over. Obviously the brain doesn’t retain memories of everything that we see or hear or do. If it did we’d have a complete sensory overload. So the brain selects for us what we remember and what we forget. Why don’t you take a seat?”

I sat down and Dr. Fletcher sat down opposite me. “You see we have very little control over what we remember, or what we forget. You can’t forget something just because you want to. Of course you can train yourself to remember things better or more accurately, and some people naturally have better memories than others. But the brain is there to protect us, to act as our guardian if you like. So it will remember things that it thinks can help us – like what’s good for us and what’s not. But what I’m really getting at is this: if Vicky’s brain doesn’t want her to remember something then it has the ability to block it out. So you may find that even when she’s fully recovered she might not remember the events leading up to the accident. I base this possibility on my belief that it was the trauma that happened before the accident that may be largely responsible for her comatose state rather than the accident itself, although that would no doubt have been a contributing factor.”

“Yes, I’ve read a great deal about this over the years,” I said. “There’s a belief, isn’t there, that dreams are a way for the brain to cleanse itself during sleep?”

“Well I know even less about dreams than I know about the brain.” He smiled at me. “I mean I know a great deal about how the brain works, but it’s a bit like the universe – the more we learn the more there is that we realize we don’t know.”

“So you don’t rule out the possibility that she may have a clear recollection of the events before the accident. That’s also possible, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is. I suggest a careful, softly, softly approach will be best. Don’t press her too much. If she remembers she remembers, if she doesn’t then no amount of pressing is going to make a difference.”

“I understand, and although I’m anxious to find out about Marisa I wouldn’t do anything to compromise Vicky’s own recovery, you can rest assured of that.”

“Let’s see how things pan out, shall we?” he said. We shook hands and I left for Vicky’s room. Glen and Catherine were getting ready to leave and I thanked them again for their help.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more,” Glen said. “And I would have come anyway, if only to see for myself that the young lady’s going to be okay.”

I walked Catherine and Glen down to the reception on the first floor.

“Have a safe trip home,” I said.

“You know,” Glen said, turning around to face me, “that few seconds when the accident happened changed my life too, mostly for the better. It’s changed my whole perspective on life. I was constantly worrying about my job, forever complaining about how things in my line of work had changed for the worse over the years. Now I don’t give a darn. We’re all expendable, and when I’m dead and gone life will still go on. So now I just do what I’m paid to do, smile at everyone and look forward to my retirement. Strange, isn’t it, how something like that can change a person’s whole outlook on life?”

“It’s an ill wind,” I said.

“I hope you find the other girl – Marisa − safe and sound,” he said. “I’ve a feeling that you’re the kind of guy that’ll leave no stone unturned.”

Nor pebble nor grain of sand I thought to myself as I waved them goodbye. Lucy had finished her shift for the day and she, Jillian and I decided that it was time for a small celebration; and since the kind of celebration I had in mind would preclude driving home we adjourned to the hotel restaurant and ordered the finest steaks they could lay their hands on and a bottle of champagne. Our job was far from over, but tomorrow was another day.

“Do you think Jillian and I helped bring Vicky round?” Lucy said as we lay in bed. “Or maybe it’s something that would’ve just happened anyway.”

“That’s something we shall never know, but I’m inclined to think that you helped.”

“It’s disappointing that Glen couldn’t find the accident spot,” she said.

“I wasn’t particularly optimistic that he would,” I said. “But he has narrowed down the area that will need to be searched. It’s about ten miles from where the bodies were found. But you know, even if we find the place it’s extremely unlikely that they’ll still be there. I was thinking about it on the drive back from Kansas City. Once Vicky escaped they would’ve had to get out of there. They had no means of knowing that she hadn’t gone straight to the police.”

“Yes, I see,” Lucy said. “But there might be clues there. If they left in a hurry they’ve almost certainly left clues behind.”

“Exactly, that’s why we have to find the place.” I didn’t mention my concern that in their flight they might have murdered Marisa. There was no point in putting that kind of damper on what had been an enjoyable evening. It had been the first time for quite a while that we’d been able to relax a little.

“You know?” Lucy said, “I wish I’d been a nurse. Or a doctor of course if I could’ve passed the exams. I think it must be very satisfying to have a job where you help people get better, or at least try to. It’s really a selfless kind of job.”

I was only half listening because something Lucy had said had stirred a sudden realization in the back of my mind. I’d had an epiphany − but I decided to think about it some more before revealing it to Lucy; to sleep on it. I’d still remember it in the morning. It wasn’t something that my brain was going to let me forget.

Chapter Twenty One

Epiphany

“I think you inadvertently may have solved the puzzle of Marisa’s abduction or kidnapping,” I said, as I lay in the bathtub, soap bubbles decorously covering my nether regions. Lucy had her back to me and was brushing her teeth. She turned to face me.

“How?” she said. “When?”

“Last night, just before we…went to sleep.”

Lucy frowned at me. “What did I say?”

“You were saying what a rewarding job nursing would be.”

“Not very well paid though, is it?”

“I think you may possibly have found the elusive missing piece of the puzzle.”

“Go on then – what?”

“I haven’t gotten around to telling you about my conversation with Sally Bowman yet. She’s the interim chief medical examiner I met in Kansas City. She had a theory about the deaths of Cindy and the as-yet-unidentified girl found last week. I wasn’t really convinced by her idea at the time, but it’s growing on me.”

“What did she say?” Lucy said, taking a swig of mouthwash.

“She thinks that whoever was responsible for the deaths of the two girls may have been in the process of removing their kidneys with a view to selling them on the black market, or the red market as it’s more commonly known these days in certain circles. It’s a highly lucrative business and it’s getting to be more and more prevalent.”

“S’amazing,” Lucy said, attempting to gargle and talk at the same time. She stopped gargling with her mouthwash, spat it out and turned to face me again.

“She thinks that rather than the girls being murdered they may have died accidentally during or after the surgery. She suggested that the bodies may have been disposed of by the group to conceal their criminal activity.”

Lucy sat down on the toilet seat. “Which part of this theory were you skeptical about?” she said.

“Well she suggested that the deceased girls may have been willing donors of a kidney in return for cash. She postulated that Cindy’s other kidney may have been removed at the time of or shortly after her death. If Cindy died accidentally during or after her surgery, then they may have removed the other kidney anyway – rather than letting it go to waste was the way Sally put it. Apparently donor kidneys go for a hundred and sixty thousand dollars on the red market. It didn’t seem likely to me that Cindy would have agreed to sell a kidney for cash, given what little we know about her. Usually you’d have to be pretty desperate to do that, because the surgery has significant risks even when it’s done legally. But Sally quite rightly pointed out that we didn’t really know anything about Cindy – she might have been in urgent need of cash, and she might not have appreciated the risk. She might have been willing. But then there was Vicky and Marisa. I was sure, at least for Marisa, that she couldn’t possibly have been a willing participant in the illegal trade in body organs. I was convinced that there must be another explanation for her disappearance. That’s why I didn’t mention Sally’s theory to you before.”

“So what’s caused you to change your mind?”

“Sally said Jane Doe died as a result of an acute infection following the surgical removal of her kidney. She estimates that she probably lived for up to a week after the infection set in. You remember what Roberts told us? Marisa had just qualified as a Licensed Practical Nurse, and was even considering nursing as a career. And then I remembered that Miss Bowman had estimated the latest victim’s death as less than two weeks before the examination. No longer than ten to twelve days is what she said. So she was probably sick when Marisa was kidnapped.”

Lucy had returned to the bedroom and I was toweling myself down in the bathroom. I put on a hotel robe, walked over to the coffee-maker and switched it on.

“So think about it. Suppose Jane Doe had recently had her kidney removed but had suffered a medical complication. It’s possible that what interested the group about Marisa is that she had some nursing experience; basic, of course, but better than nothing. I mean they could hardly go to a nursing agency, and if Sally’s right they would want to do what they could to prevent Jane’s death; dead bodies aren’t good for business. The timing fits and it’s at least an explanation as to why they may have kidnapped Marisa. She may have mentioned her background in nursing to the group when she met them.”

“But what about Vicky?” Lucy said, as she walked over to pour the coffee. “Why take her too?”

“Probably because Marisa wouldn’t have gone without her. Marisa wouldn’t have known their true motive for inviting her to the ‘commune’ at that time.”

“So this new theory of yours is solely based on the fact that Marisa had some nursing experience?”

“Well not solely, but it’s a rational explanation – the only rational explanation I can think of. Before this idea struck me I was at a total loss to understand why Marisa had been abducted, kidnapped, whatever. This new theory makes sense to me.”

“It’s a bit speculative, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s what you frequently have to do in this job; make sense of things by finding a theory that fits. I accept it may be wide of the mark, but I hope not.”

“Because it would mean that Marisa may not be in immediate danger?” Lucy said.

“Exactly. If the group we’re looking for are simply cold-blooded killers then Marisa will probably be dead already. But whatever view you take of their criminal activities, if the two girls whose bodies have been found were not intentionally killed it puts the matter in a different light. Maybe they’re simply holding Marisa somewhere until they can make a clean getaway. Maybe they think she’d be useful as a hostage, as something to negotiate with if they’re located. I don’t know, but it gives me renewed hope that we may yet find Marisa alive.

Lucy sat in an armchair gazing out the window and taking all this in.

“Well let’s hope you’re right,” she said at last. “But where do we go from here? How are we going to find her?”

“I have a plan,” I said.

“Okay, let’s hear it then.”

“With Glen Crombie’s help I managed to narrow down the location where the accident occurred to about five miles of roadway. Cindy emerged from the trees from the west side of the road. As yet we don’t know how far she traveled before she got to the road, and we can’t be sure that she traveled by the shortest route from wherever she started. But let’s say we search the entire area – we draw a line five miles back from the road to the west. That’d give us twenty- five square miles to search.”

“You think the sheriff will help us? Do they have the resources?”

“We’re not going to ask him.”

“We can’t possibly do it on our own – it’ll take forever.”

“Not if we utilize our secret army,” I said.

“Our secret…”

“Tommy and Shakes will be chomping at the bit. The weekend’s upon us. I suggest that Jillian goes back to Springfield to organize it. Let’s say forty bikers covering a road five or six miles long. That’s one every one hundred and sixty yards; and I’ve been looking at the map – there are lots of lakes and reservoirs in the search area, so the land area is probably no more than twelve or thirteen square miles. It won’t take long at all, provided their bikes can handle the terrain. I suggest we set it up for Sunday. By Sunday night I’ll bet you a dime to a dollar we’ll know where Vicky came from that night.”

“Let’s go down and talk to Jillian.” Lucy said. “I can’t wait to see her face when I tell her about our plan.”

“So it’s gone from being highly speculative to being ‘our plan’ has it?” I said.

“The search bit has nothing to do with the speculative bit,” Lucy said. “We’d have needed to search the area anyway. And don’t forget, when Shakes offered to help I was the one who was most enthusiastic about it.”

“Okay, it’s ‘our plan’ then,” I said.

Jillian was already eating breakfast when we went downstairs. She’d intended to go back to Springfield for the weekend in any case. As soon as Lucy told her about our plan she got on the phone to Shakes.

“It’s time,” she said. “Search day is Sunday. Tell the boys to get their asses up to Clinton nice and early.”

After breakfast I drove to the sheriff’s office. I needed to tell Benson to expect some visitors on Sunday.

Kent Benson leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“I’d better let everyone know, then,” he said, “so that they don’t think it’s some kind of invasion.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll all be off-road once they get to the search area,” I said.

“I must say, Matt Peters was right. You’re very resourceful.”

“We’re lucky to have met the right people,” I said.

“What are you expecting to find, if you’re able to locate the hideout?”

“An empty house with facilities for carrying out illegal organ removal,” I said. “I’m sure that whoever was operating this racket will be long gone though.”

“And if they are, how do you plan to locate Marisa? Knowing you I guess you have a plan.”

“Marisa’s a bright, intelligent and resourceful girl. When she left a message on Jillian’s answering machine after she’d been kidnapped, she left a subtle clue. I’m hopeful she may have done the same when the place was abandoned. If she had any idea where they were going she’d have tried to leave something behind to put us on the right track. Other than that we only have the car: the maroon Eldorado. Sooner or later someone somewhere is going to spot that car.”

“I’m afraid we’ve drawn a blank on that so far, but everyone’s been alerted. Good luck on Sunday. I’ll put a couple of my boys at your disposal so that the locals aren’t spooked.” He eyed me steadily. “But listen, if you’re theory is correct then two people have died at the hands of these people and the place is a potential crime scene. We’ll need to have it swept for fingerprints and other forensic evidence. I want your word that if you find it you won’t touch anything.”

“You have my word.”

Chapter Twenty Two

The Girl in the Basement

After leaving Benson’s office we headed to the hospital to check on Vicky’s progress. She was propped up in bed reading a magazine, or maybe just looking at the pictures.

“Hello Vicky, I’m Lucy and this is Kane. We’re friends of Marisa’s father,” she said, as she sat down by the bedside. “Do you remember Marisa?”

“Of course,” she said.

Lucy looked over at me and smiled. “We’ve come to try and find her, Vicky. Do you think you might be able to help us do that?”

“I’ll try,” she said. “Who are you again?”

“We’re friends of Marisa’s father. He asked us to look for her. You were in an accident and you’ve been sleeping a long time. I expect the doctor told you all about that.”

“He’s nice,” she said. “He’s very kind. But he said I’ve been unconscious for over a week. It doesn’t feel like that. It’s strange.”

“Well the most important thing is that you’re safe and you’re well. I expect you’ll be going home soon. Do your parents know where you are?”

“No, I can’t…I can’t remember their…I don’t know how to contact them.’

“Well, don’t worry; we’ll help you do that. We don’t want to tire you; would you like to rest for a while?”

“No, I want to find Marisa.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She started to cry.

“Don’t be upset. Look, we’ll go get some coffee and then we’ll come back and see you again a bit later. Maybe you need some time to get your thoughts together. You were in a nasty accident, but Dr. Fletcher says you’re going to be just fine.”

“The doctor told me I was hit by a car. It’s funny, I don’t remember that. I just remember trying to get away…to get away from that…that awful place…” She started to cry again.

“You get some rest,” Lucy said. “We’ll see you again a bit later.”

“You will come back, won’t you?” she said. “You promise?”

“I promise. We’ll come back a little while later. Try not to worry about anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“We’re in luck,” I said, as we sat in the hospital canteen. “It’s much better than I expected. Fletcher thought she might have amnesia about the whole thing.”

“And she wants to help. That’s encouraging too.”

“We don’t need her help to find the location where she was being held before the accident,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll find that tomorrow. But it will be helpful if she can tell us what happened after she and Marisa left Springfield. It will let me know if my…our theory is correct.”

Lucy smiled up at me over the top of her coffee cup. “Whatever would you do without me?”

“It doesn’t bear thinking about,” I said.

“We better call Mr. Roberts.”

“Yes. But let’s see what Vicky’s able to tell us first.”

We sat there for more than an hour, talking about this and that. At eleven o’clock we went back to Vicky’s room.

*

“Hi Vicky,” Lucy said. “How you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

We sat down on either side of the bed. “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Lucy said. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“You know you’ve had an accident, right?”

“The doctor told me about that. He said I was hit by a car. The man who came to see me with his wife – he was the driver.”

“That’s right – he came to make sure you’re okay now. That you’re getting better.”

“That’s nice. The doctor told me it wasn’t his fault. He said…said…”

“Can you tell me what you can remember yourself?”

“There were some lights…a road. I don’t remember.” She thought for a while. “It was dark…raining.”

“Why were you in the dark – in the rain? Do you remember that?”

Vicky shot Lucy a look, her eyes wide.

“To get away…get away from that terrible place.”

“What place, Vicky? What place was that?”

“Let me think.”

Vicky closed her eyes and thought for several minutes. The she said, “The place where they took us. Marisa and me.”

Lucy looked over at me, unsure how hard she should press her. I nodded and she continued.

“Who took you there, Vicky?”

“Those people…the ones we met in…Springfield. By the college.”

“Where did they take you?”

“I don’t…I’m not sure. It was a house. A ranch house.” She thought for a moment. “They kept us there.”

“Would you like to rest for a while?” Lucy said.

“No, I’m okay. Really. It’s just that I can’t remember.”

I took out a picture of Marisa. “Who’s this Vicky; do you know?” I said.

She looked at the picture. Her eyes had a deep sadness in them.

“Marisa.” She sat up in bed.

A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I just have to take Vicky’s blood pressure. How you doing sweetheart?” she said.

“I’m feeling fine now,” Vicky said. “These are Marisa’s friends. “I’m trying to remember…”

“Well you just take your time, honey. Dr. Fletcher says it’ll all come back to you soon enough,” the nurse said. “But you’re not to tire yourself.”

“We’ll give her a break,” I said, getting up to go.

“Don’t go,” Vicky said. “Help me remember…please.”

I looked at the nurse – she nodded and left the room.

“There were five of them,” she said. They called themselves…”

“Regenerators,” I said.

“Yes, that’s right. Regenerators. We met them in Springfield on Thursday.”

It was as if three weeks had been erased from her memory. “And they took you somewhere?” I said.

“To the house.”

Lucy and I waited patiently to see if she would remember anything else, but she said nothing. She was frowning, concentrating; trying hard to remember. I took a chance.

“Do you remember a sick girl in the house? Did Marisa try to help a sick girl there?” I said.

She thought for a while. “She was downstairs; in the basement – but I didn’t see her. Marisa saw her.”

“Why was she sick?”

Vicky thought for a moment or two.

“Marisa said she was dying – she had…some…kind of…infection. Marisa said she was real sick. She needed to go to the hospital, but…”

“What happened to her, Vicky?”

Tears welled up in Vicky’s eyes and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

“What happened to her Vicky?” Lucy said.

“She died. Marisa told me she died. And then…the next day she wasn’t there anymore.”

“You’re doing great, Vicky. Really great,” Lucy said.

“Then they took Marisa away. Now I remember. They took Marisa away. She saved me.”

“How did she save you?” Lucy asked.

“Let me just think for a minute. Marisa told them we had to go back to Springfield. She said that…Jillian would send someone to look for us. So they took Marisa away to call Jillian.” She looked at Lucy. “That was her wasn’t it? Jillian. She was here.”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “Jillian was here with me when you woke up.”

Vicky lay back on the pillow and smiled.

“They took Marisa away to call Jillian.”

“Why didn’t she call her from the house?” I said.

Vicky looked over at me in surprise. “There wasn’t any telephone in the house.”

“Couldn’t she use her cell?”

“There was no signal there. It was kind of far away from everything.”

“You said Marisa saved you,” I said.

“Marisa told me she had a plan to get them away from the house. She’d found some…those things that make you sleep.”

“Barbiturates?” I said.

“Yes, she gave them to me. She told me to try to put it in their food. Wait, let me think. I have to get this straight. I remember now. Let me start again. I think if I can tell you from the beginning it will help me remember.”

“Look, we’ll take a coffee break, Vicky,” Lucy said. “You try and think things through and then when we come back you start from the beginning. You’re doing really great – I’m so proud of you.”

Vicky sank back into the pillow and closed her eyes. Then she sighed. “Thanks,” she said.

Chapter Twenty Three

The Escape

We didn’t go for coffee. Instead we called in to see Dr. Fletcher.

“It’s all coming back to her,” I said. “But I hope it’s not going to trigger some kind of relapse. Do you think it’s alright for us to keep talking to her? We don’t want to tire her out.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “Even though she may have suffered a mental trauma after what she went through she knows she’s safe now. She’s physically fit and what she needs now is to be helped as much as possible to get her memory back. There’ll be gaps, and some confusion probably, but it won’t do her any harm.”

We decided to let Vicky have more time to think things through.

“I don’t think we’re going to find anybody at the house when we locate it,” I said to Lucy. “There may be clues there as to where they went – they’ll have left in a hurry with little time to cover their tracks – but we can’t count on it. What we need is the license number of the car; that way we may be able to trace them; but I think the chances of Vicky being able to help us there are pretty slim.”

“Well let’s see. Most of it’s coming back to her now.”

We waited in the hospital canteen until twelve and then took the elevator back to the second floor. Vicky was sitting up in bed and was pleased to see us.

“I think I’ve got things straight now,” she said. “I can remember most of it quite clearly.”

We sat down again, on either side of the bed.

“I’ll tell you everything I can remember,” she said. “We met this group – they called themselves regenerators − in Springfield last…back in January – the end of January. They told us they were into meditation, yoga, living off the land – that sort of crap. They told us it was important to get back to simplicity, get away from technology, all that kind of thing. I thought they were loopy, you know, naïve, but Marisa was intrigued. They invited us to visit their commune. We talked it over and Marisa persuaded me to go with her. It was only supposed to be a few days ’cause I really needed to work. Anyway we met them on…a Saturday. There were five of them – two girls and three guys. Nothing much happened that first evening, but in the morning they wanted Marisa to look at a woman who was sick. They knew she had some nursing experience. At first they told us that she had food poisoning or something. They said they’d been to Springfield to collect some medicine; but when Marisa saw her she knew she was real sick. Later she found out she’d had some kind of operation. She had a fever. We knew that something wasn’t right; that if she was sick like that she should have been in the hospital. Marisa had a big argument with them and gradually they admitted what had happened to her. She’d donated a kidney. They had a surgeon who did the operation, but he wasn’t there anymore. They said they were helping people. Plenty of people needed kidneys and there were plenty of people willing to sell theirs – so their logic was that they were helping both the sick and the needy.

“We tried to make calls on our cell phones but there was no signal. Marisa needed to call her dad because it was his birthday, but there was no phone there and no signal for the cells. Anyway, the day after we got there we couldn’t find our cell phones. Marisa was mad and told them we had to leave, but they said they’d take us back to Springfield after the girl got better. Only she didn’t get better. Marisa knew she wasn’t going to get better. She had some kind of serious infection. The guy that had operated on her had disappeared and wouldn’t help. Marisa did what she could, but on Thursday the girl died and the next day Marisa told me there was no sign of the body.”

Vicky looked at each of us in turn.

“How am I doing?” she said.

“Real good,” I said. “Take your time, and go on when you’re ready.”

“We were really scared. We knew they wouldn’t let us go. They couldn’t because…”

Vicky squeezed her eyes shut, and tears ran down her cheeks.

“Take it easy, Vicky. Why don’t you rest for a while?” Lucy said.

“Marisa saved me,” Vicky said. She sniffed back her tears and took a deep breath.

“Marisa told them that we were expected back by friends in Springfield. She said there’d be people looking for us if we didn’t go back. So they told Marisa she had to call her friends and make an excuse, so she offered to call Jillian, but they had said that she couldn’t use a cell phone. They said they’d take her somewhere to make the call and that I had to stay there. Two of the group stayed behind in the house with me – both of the girls and there was some guy who was in the house when we first arrived but he left after a while so there was just the three of us. They said if Marisa tried to tell anyone where they were then I’d be the one to face the consequences.

“But Marisa had found some barbiturates and she told me to try to put it in their food or drinks. It was a powder she’d found downstairs. She told me to wait until they slept and then try to get away and get help. After they left there were just the two girls and me. I managed to put the stuff in their coffee during the afternoon when Marisa was away. Late in the afternoon I got my chance and ran. There were dogs outside but I’d given them some meat with the powder on it – I threw it out the window. It was already getting dark and it was raining. I didn’t know which way to run. I wandered around for several hours trying to find a house or a road. I didn’t know how long it would be before the others came back or the drug wore off.”

Vicky stopped talking. She was reliving the scene in her mind.

“Do you remember the car, Vicky? The one that Marisa was in when they left?”

“I didn’t pay much attention. I don’t know much about cars. It was a red color, I think. Like plum red. It wasn’t the car we were in before.”

“You mean the car that they drove from Springfield in?”

“Yes – that was bigger. It was an SUV. It had like three rows of seats.”

“Do you remember the color of that car?”

Vicky frowned and thought for a while.

“It was a dark color, but I can’t remember. It was always parked out front. It was new, I think.”

“Did you notice the license plate?”

“I guess I must have, but I can’t remember now.”

“Were they Missouri plates?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Okay, Vicky you’ve done really well. We’re going to find the house tomorrow. We know roughly where the accident happened, and we know the direction you came from, so it’ll be easy for us to find now. We don’t think Marisa or the group of people who held you will still be there, but we’re hopeful we’ll find them soon. Try not to worry about anything; we’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”

*

I decided to treat Lucy to dinner in the best restaurant we could find. We ate barbecued ribs and home-made apple pie and then went back to the hotel bar for a nightcap.

Back in the room we took stock of what we needed to do in the morning. I’d arranged for the Scouts to congregate in the hotel parking lot and I’d reassured the management that there was nothing for them to be concerned about. I told the manager that if he had any concerns he could talk to the sheriff. I explained that we were all involved in a search for a missing girl and that we wouldn’t linger long so as not to alarm the other guests.

“When we locate the house that Vicky described the police are going to need to examine everything very carefully,” I said. “I’m quite sure that if Marisa knew where they were going she would have left something behind as a clue; although she may well have had no idea where they were headed.”

“You would have thought someone would have spotted the Eldorado by now,” Lucy said.

“They may already have left the area, or even the state, before we alerted the authorities about the car,” I said. “We’ve no means of knowing how far away they might be now. Let’s stay optimistic that something we find in that house will help.”

“I’m so pleased that we’ve found a way for Tommy and Shakes to help us,” Lucy said. “I know Tommy in particular wanted so badly to help. He thinks a lot of Marisa.”

“I’m glad you said ‘thinks a lot’, and not ‘thought a lot’, I said.

“Because I know she’s still alive,” Lucy said. “I can feel it in my bones.”

Chapter Twenty Four

The Ranch House

Sunday morning was bright and sunny. We were sitting at the window of the hotel coffee shop overlooking the parking lot when Shakes arrived with his entourage. They were a motley bunch. Some of them looked old enough to be drawing their pensions; others appeared to be barely out of high school. I went out to meet them. Tommy, Shakes, Jillian and Jacky were all there.

“Okay, how many of us are there?” I said.

“Thirty-eight, not counting the ladies,” Shakes said.

“Okay – I’m going to lead you all to the search area,” I said. “The area we need to search lies to the west of the road. I haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly where we need to look but I’ve narrowed it down to about five miles of road. So we’ll need each biker to be about 200 yards from his neighbors. Then they’re to head through the trees. The trees lining the road are about two hundred yards thick and after that it’s mostly open ground, so it should be a cinch to find what we’re looking for.”

“Which is...?” Tommy said.

“A single story ranch house, probably abandoned, surrounded by a few small outbuildings, and some wire cages where the dogs were kept. It should stick out like a sore thumb. If all goes well we’ll locate it within the hour. Nobody’s to go inside. When you find it we’ll get over there and check it out. There’s a couple of the sheriff’s men as escorts, so don’t go breaking any speed limits. If there’s anyone at home when you find it then your boys can surround the place, but I don’t think that’s likely. Ready?”

“Let’s go,” he said.

I led the convoy out of town and headed east. A parade of small kids lined the sidewalk and watched us go. We waved to them and they waved back. It was probably the most exciting thing they’d seen in a while.

“What did you mean when you told Shakes we’d check out the house?” Lucy said suspiciously as we led the line of bikers out of town.

“I told you, we’ll need to see if Marisa’s left anything behind that might serve as a clue to where they’ve relocated. I’m assuming there’ll be no-one there.”

“But you promised Benson you wouldn’t touch anything, remember?”

“Well, I won’t.”

“How can you search the place properly without touching anything?”

“I’m not going to search – you are. I’ll just be there to guide you.”

“But…”

“I never gave Benson an assurance on your behalf. Look Lucy, in this job you sometimes have to bend the rules a bit. Don’t worry, I’ve got some latex gloves and we both know enough not to compromise the scene in any way.”

“But why not leave it to them?”

“Because it’ll take forever; and I’m willing to bet I have a whole lot more experience in searching places than any of the local police.”

“I don’t want to lose my ticket Kane, I only just got it.”

She was referring to her investigator’s license, which she’d finally received earlier in the month.

“Hey,” I said, “don’t go all mushy on me now.”

In the end she needn’t have worried. The empty Eldorado parked nearby was a dead giveaway and the Scouts located the place in less than twenty minutes. Or at least what was left of it. Someone had burned it to the ground. They’d torched the Eldorado too.

*

As we viewed the blackened scene my heart sank. Even if we hadn’t been able to locate any clues inside I had hoped the police would find some prints at least, or other evidence that could help identify the people who’d abducted Marisa. For a moment a cold shiver went up my spine, like someone had walked over my grave, as I wondered if the remains of Marisa might even be among the charred wood. There was a basement in which a good deal of the debris had sunk. There was nothing to search.

The burned-out car suggested that Marisa’s kidnappers had probably realized after their trip to the gas station that the car might have been spotted. They weren’t dumb. They would have realized that when Marisa failed to return to Springfield sooner or later her call would be traced. According to Vicky they’d been taken to the house in an SUV, although she hadn’t been able to recall any details of the make, model or even color of that vehicle. After Vicky’s escape they’d have moved fast. With no time to clean up the house they decided to destroy all traces of themselves and whatever nefarious activities had taken place there and to abandon the Eldorado, which explained why it hadn’t been spotted since we’d identified it.

We walked over to where it was parked. Next to the car was a wire cage with a couple of dead dogs inside. Probably they’d simply been left behind to starve. I steered Lucy away from the grim scene and then went back to the car. The plates had been removed. I put on some gloves and tried the handles but it was locked down. I peered in but couldn’t see a trace of anything inside. I got out my cell phone but there was no signal.

We made our way back to the road and drove back to Clinton. On the way I managed to get a call through to Kent Benson. He said to leave everything as it was and he’d have a deputy get over and take a look. They’d need to get what was left of the Eldorado back to the pound.

I knew there were numerous places that the police could look for the vehicle identification number – the front of the engine block, front of the car frame, rear wheel well, inside the driver-side doorjamb and the driver-side doorpost; even underneath the spare tire. I thought it unlikely that the fire would have removed all traces of the number and probably the police would eventually be able to trace the owner, but it was going to take a whole lot of time; maybe it was stolen for all I knew. While I drove I thought what an anti-climax it was. I’d narrowed the area of search thanks to Glen and learned a lot of useful information from Vicky. Now this – it was like finding a nickel and losing a dime.

The Scouts headed back to Springfield and we arranged for Shakes, Jillian, Tommy and Jackie to join us for lunch in a pizza joint back in Clinton. They knew most of what had happened from Jillian, but I brought them up to date with the information Vicky had been able to provide. I told them about Sally Bowman’s theory.

“I’m hopeful that we’ll eventually find Marisa safe,” I said. “If Sally’s right then the deaths were probably accidental. If so, they’re unlikely to harm Marisa, but on the other hand they’re facing serious prison time for manslaughter at least; then there’s the kidnapping of Marisa and Vicky. We need to find Marisa as soon as possible – nothing’s certain, even if Sally’s theory’s correct.”

After lunch Lucy went with Jillian and Jacky to the hospital to visit Vicky. Shakes, Tommy and I sidled off to the nearest bar.

“I’m grateful for your help, guys,” I said, “but it looks like this game isn’t quite over yet.”

“At least Vicky’s safe,” Tommy said. “From what you told us she’s got Marisa to thank for that.”

“Maybe as she recovers she’ll be able to remember more,” Shakes said. “Maybe from conversation she heard she learned something that’ll turn out to be useful. It’s hard to see what else you can do in the meantime.”

“There’s the car,” I said. “Maybe something will turn up from that, but I’m not hopeful. I’ll need to talk to old man Roberts later – I wish I had something positive to tell him. The police could plaster the state with photographs of Marisa but I doubt that’ll help – they’ll be keeping her well under wraps; and anyway they may not still be in this state. America’s a big country.”

“It’s crazy, man, what you told us about this red market. I still can’t get my head around that. Not in the States.”

“Well I heard a while back that there’s a trade in the red market down south – with illegals as the main targets, but I guess you never know what people will do for money,” I said.

“Sure is the root of all evil,” Tommy said.

“Well not all evil,” I said. “But a fair bit of it.”

“We’re sure goin’ to party it up when you find her,” Tommy said.

I was glad he said ‘when’.

Chapter Twenty Five

Dr. Fooks

Nothing much happened during the next couple of days. The police examination of the abandoned vehicle continued. On Wednesday morning Benson called to say the forensic boys were all done with it.

“They located the VIN and took some tire impressions – from what was left of the tires; that’s just in case we find any impressions near where the bodies were found. Even if we eventually locate the vehicle owner it’ll be pretty hard to pin anything on him. And the examination of the fire scene hasn’t turned up anything – except that gasoline was used; must’ve been quite a blaze, but no one saw anything. Dr. Fletcher says there’s no reason Vicky can’t be discharged soon.”

“Well you’ll have Vicky’s testimony in due course, but first I’ve got to find these guys. More importantly I need to find Marisa.”

“Maybe they’ll release her eventually.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But that depends on just how much she knows – and anyway I want to nail those bastards.”

“I guess I should get someone to take a statement from her – do you think she’s ready for that yet?”

“Her memory’s improving all the time, but I’d suggest leaving it for a day or two,” I said. “We’re still trying to coax more details from her about her ordeal.”

“Okay, let me know when you think she’s ready.”

*

We’d hit a dead end for the time being – but then Lucy had an idea.

“I’ve had an idea,” she said, as we sat having lunch on Tuesday. “I saw this movie once…”

“Lucy…”

“No listen; listen. It was one of those movies based on a true story, and there was a girl who’d been raped and gone through some terrible kind of ordeal but she couldn’t remember a lot of stuff – so they brought in this hypnotist and he was able to help her remember even tiny details of what had happened: even things that she didn’t know that she knew. We could try that with Vicky – see if she can remember details about the SUV that are buried in her subconscious.”

I stopped eating and put down my knife and fork.

“I guess we’ve nothing to lose,” I said. “Any ideas where we could find such a person?”

“I’ve been looking on the internet. There are several promising candidates but I thought I’d better run it past you first.”

“Maybe we’d better run it past Dr. Fletcher too. If he’s okay with it he might even know of someone we could approach.”

“See, I’m not just a pretty face,” Lucy said brightly.

“If this works you’ll be able to dine out on it for months, if not years,” I said.

As it happened Dr. Fletcher thought it was a swell idea and he did indeed know someone who might be able to help.

“Serious hypnotism isn’t to be confused with stage hypnotism– it’s a recognized science, although some subjects are more susceptible to it than others. There’s a widely held belief that perhaps as little as two percent of memories stored in the brain are accessible to us on an everyday basis. As I explained to you last week the brain is very selective as to what it permits us to recall. Most of the automatic things that we need to remember, such as how to breathe, how to walk, run or swallow are actually controlled not by the brain but by the central nervous system, but matters that need conscious thought are controlled by various regions of the brain.

An experienced hypnotist with a suitably susceptible subject is able to bypass the brain’s natural tendency to block memories that it doesn’t think are important. I know of one hypnotist who has had some remarkable results − he’s called Sebastian Fooks. Strange name,” he said, “and something of an oddball I’m told, but he’s got the right credentials and he’s built himself quite a reputation. He’s not local, I’m afraid, and he won’t be cheap – that’s if he agrees to take it on at all.”

“Can you sound him out?” I said.

“I’ll start on it now, but his clinic’s in New York and he’s not likely to be available at the drop of a hat.”

“Maybe if he knows how urgent it is he’ll make it a priority,” I said. “Vicky may be safe now but another girl’s life is at risk and we’re working against the clock. I’m going to put my cards on the table, doctor. As things stand Marisa’s a very serious threat to the group that is holding her captive − that is if they haven’t disposed of her already. Marisa is really the only person who can directly link them to any of the deaths. While it’s true that Vicky can implicate them in falsely imprisoning her and Marisa, only Marisa can link them to Jane Doe’s death. Vicky can only relate what she was told by Marisa – she never actually saw the victim herself. Although I’m outwardly optimistic that we’ll eventually find her alive, deep down I’m not at all confident in that regard. Marisa’s at very serious risk in my opinion and I need to do everything possible that can help me find her. Money’s not an issue, I know that.”

As I left the room I had an afterthought.

“Could be a high profile case for him if it works out,” I said. Fletcher nodded thoughtfully.

*

Sebastian Fooks’ appearance was everything his name promised it would be. He was a portly man of medium height with rosy cheeks and a cheerful demeanor. He was dressed in a Saville Row Harris Tweed three-piece suit and was sporting something that I’d previously only seen in the movies – and old movies at that. It was a monocle, in a frame of finely twisted gold filigree. A Double Albert gold watch chain protruded from his vest pocket which presumably concealed a pocket-watch. My first impression was of a man about to attend a costume party dressed as a quintessential English gentleman from a nineteen fifties British comedy movie, but on the business end he exuded an aura of professional confidence that was reassuring

As it turned out, Fooks was indeed English – from Oxford − where he’d started out his career as an academic.

“It’s essential for the subject to be willing in order to elicit a favorable response,” he said; “and I shall need to have absolute quiet and privacy.”

We were sitting in Fletcher’s office on the first floor of the hospital. It was shortly after ten on Thursday morning. Fooks had jumped at the opportunity to assist in the case and he was anxious to make a start. Vicky had indicated her willingness to participate in the experiment and Fooks had already had a preliminary meeting with her and declared himself optimistic in ‘treating her’, as he put it.

“Any details that she can remember will be important,” I said, “but we’re most interested in the vehicle that Vicky said was used to drive her and Marisa from Springfield. It was parked out front while they were being held captive but Vicky only has the vaguest recollection about it and we’re hoping that she might have noticed the license number.”

“Right,” Fooks said. “You’d better relate to me what she’s been able to remember so far – right back to when she first met this group of…regenerators. I shall need to take her back to when it all started.”

“Anything you can add to what we already know will be a help, but obviously we’re not expecting miracles.”

Fooks looked at me in surprise. “Miracles,” he said, a little pompously, “are my specialty.”

Lucy and I sat together with Fooks relating everything Vicky had told us so far and adding further details that we had learned from other sources. At twelve he said he was ready. Lucy and I drove back to the hotel; it was that or drinking endless cups of coffee in the hospital canteen.

“What do you reckon?” Lucy said when we got to the room.

“I reckon we’ve nothing to lose,” I said.

Chapter Twenty Six

Charlie

It was just before five o’clock when the call came through. We’d eaten lunch, been for a stroll and were watching a game show on TV, Lucy having trailed endlessly though the available channels in a hopeless quest to find a movie she hadn’t already seen.

“Fooks has something for us,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Did he say what he’d found out?” Lucy said as we took the short drive to the hospital.

“No, but we’ll find out soon enough,” I said, as I slid the Ford into a space near the hospital entrance. “He’s still with Vicky now. I hope she survived the ordeal unscathed.”

When we entered Vicky’s room I was surprised to see that she was sleeping soundly.

“It’s not uncommon,” Fooks said. “We’ve had a journey back through time and it’s left her quite exhausted. She’ll be fine, though, when she wakes up.”

“Did you manage to find out about the SUV?” I said.

“It’s a dark grey, or possibly black, Toyota. It looked new. There’s a D and an A in the license number.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It wasn’t much to go on.

“Could she remember whether it had Missouri plates?”

“No.”

We were still standing at the foot of Vicky’s bed. Fooks sensed my disappointment, but I thought I saw something of a twinkle in his eye. He pursed his lips and slightly arched his back, drawing himself up to his full height. He poked the thumbs of each hand into his vest pockets.

“She remembered something else though which you might find rather important.” He paused, no doubt for effect, and said casually, “It had a parking ticket on the morning they left Springfield. It was parked near the University campus. Shouldn’t take a private eye long to track it down, I suppose.”

We went down to the canteen where Fooks devoured a large plate of ham sandwiches and Lucy and I drank coffee.

“The driver was a man named Charlie – he was the leader of the group. There were four others, besides her and Marisa. Two girls – one called herself Bliss and the other Serene.” He smiled. “I don’t suppose they were their birth names, but then you never know. The other two were men, Doren and Max. She didn’t see anyone else while held captive. Oh there were a couple of dogs – Dobermans − their names were Kim and Bailey respectively, although I doubt that’s a particularly important detail in the grand scheme of things.”

“Did she remember anything about her parents, her home?”

“Oh yes, she told me about them before we started our little session. I spoke with her about a number of things before we started.”

“She couldn’t remember the last time we saw her – I guess she’s gradually filling in the gaps.”

“I don’t think that was the problem regarding her parents,” Fooks said. “She told me she couldn’t remember those details too, but,” he said, smiling, “I knew that she could remember really.”

“Why would she pretend not to?” Lucy said.

“Oh that’s quite simple. I explained to her how important it was to be truthful about everything that she could remember before we started. She doesn’t want her parents contacted. They divorced many years ago and she’s had no direct contact with either of them for several years. She told me about her relationship with them. Of course, since she told me that in confidence, I must respect her wishes and so I can’t divulge what she told me about the relationship between her and her parents even to you I’m afraid. She doesn’t want them contacted.”

“Well, it’s none of our business. You’ve exceeded my expectations, Mr. Fooks. Not that I was skeptical about your abilities,” I added hastily.

“To whom should I send my account?” Fooks said.

“You can send it to me, Mr. Fooks, and I’ll claim it back from my client in due course,” I said.

“Well my secretary will mail you my charges if you’d care to give me your address. There’ll be expenses for my trip as well, of course.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, handing Fooks one of her gold-embossed business cards.

“Oh, Boston,” he said. “Then you’re also a long way from home?”

“You have our lasting gratitude, Mr. Fooks,” I said.

“It’s Dr. Fooks actually,” he said, rubbing the palms of his hands together and looking more than a little pleased with himself. I have a Doctorate in Experimental Psychology from Oxford. That’s the university, not the city,” he said, somewhat condescendingly.

“I went to University College in London, England back in the early nineties,” I said, to deflate him a little. I didn’t mention my failure to graduate.

“Hmmm,” he said, tilting his head a little and wearing an expression that suggested that now he’d heard everything.

We said our goodbyes and I went with Lucy to see if Vicky had woken up. She was sitting up in bed. She asked where Fooks was.

“He’s rather a busy man,” I said. “But you did well. I want to ask you a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “I’m fine, really.”

Lucy and I settled down in our usual chairs, on each side of Vicky’s bed.

“Dr. Fooks said you mentioned the name of the leader of the group that abducted you, do you remember that now?”

“Yes,” she said. “Charlie. The others were…

“Bliss and Serene?”

Vicky smiled. “Yes, that’s right. Bliss was Doren’s girlfriend and Serene’s boyfriend was called Max.”

“So it was Charlie calling the shots, was it?”

“Oh absolutely, yes. The others just kind of did what he told them. I think they were…I’m not sure how to put it. Maybe afraid of him, or…”

“I don’t suppose you heard Charlie’s last name?”

“No, that’s what they all called him.”

I pulled out the picture of the group. “Can you point out which is which?”

“The one on the left is Charlie,” she said. “Doren, Max, Bliss and Serene” she said, pointing to each in turn.

“Okay Vicky, that’s all for now. Dr. Fletcher says you’ll be discharged soon. Do you have any place to go?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere until you find Marisa,” she said. “But I need to get a job. I don’t have…”

“Jillian says you can stay with her and Shakes as long as you like,” Lucy said.

“Oh, that’s kind of her. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Dr. Fooks told us that you remembered some details about the vehicle – the SUV,” I said.

“Oh did I? I can’t remember that.”

“Well it’s okay. I think we will be able to trace the vehicle and that should lead us to wherever Marisa is now. We need to follow it up quickly so we’re going to move on with the investigation. Jillian will be up to see you again soon and take you back to her place. Let us know if there’s anything else you need, okay?”

“Okay; and thanks for everything,” she said.

“You’ve been abducted, knocked into a coma and hypnotized,” Lucy said, squeezing Vicky’s hand and smiling. “You’ll be able write a book about it one day.”

“Except the coma bit,” Vicky said, smiling back at Lucy.

“We need to contact Matt straight away,” I said to Lucy as we left the hospital. “We need to find out who the registered owner of the vehicle is.”

“And then we can just leave it up to them, can’t we?”

“No, we can’t. For one thing we don’t know where the owner is registered. It may or may not be in Missouri. Anyway, I don’t want the sheriff’s office or the police involved yet. We promised Roberts we’d find Marisa and I’m not delegating responsibility for that to anyone else.”

“But don’t you think they’ll insist it’s a police matter now – after everything that Vicky’s told us?”

“First of all they don’t know what Vicky’s told us yet. Sally’s theory was also off the record and only we know about that. Vicky hasn’t been interviewed by the police yet and I can keep it that way for a day or two longer. I aim to tell Peters simply that the identity of the vehicle owner may be relevant to our inquiry and leave it at that. We need to pay Charlie a visit.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

Bad News

I called Peters as soon as we got back to the hotel, but it was after seven and he’d gone home. I didn’t want to discuss the matter with anyone else so it would have to wait till morning. We went out to get some dinner.

“The net’s closing,” I said to Lucy over my plate of charred ribs. “Provided the vehicle’s actually registered to Charlie – but even if it’s not it will lead us to him and his crew; I’m pretty sure they’ll all be holed up together somewhere.”

“It’s hard not to be anxious though,” Lucy said. “They could have bolted by now and be miles away.”

We agreed there was nothing we could do for the time being, so to take our minds off the job we decided to take in a movie, then head for the hotel bar to drink however many nightcaps were necessary to put us to sleep.

“You can think of it as a kind of treat,” I said, “for your idea to have Vicky hypnotized.”

“You think he was on the level?” she said. “I’ve read about cases where hypnotists plant false memories in people’s heads.”

“You mean you saw a movie where that happened,” I said.

“I read too, you know…sometimes.”

The plan worked. We were in bed before twelve and I was dead to the world until six. I got up and made some coffee then went for a walk. It might as well have been the middle of the night as far as Lucy was concerned.

We ate breakfast downstairs at eight thirty and then I called Peters.

“Hi Matt,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch but I expect Sheriff Benson’s kept you up to date.”

“Good to hear from you Kane. How’s it going – are you making progress?”

“Sure. Vicky’s been a mine of information and we have some leads to follow up. That’s why I’m calling you actually. The vehicle that was used to transport Marisa and Vicky from Springfield was a Toyota SUV. On the morning they left we understand it was issued with a parking ticket, so I need you to find out the license number and maybe whether the fine was paid. If you can get the license number of the vehicle I can trace the registered owner easily enough – although I don’t know yet where the vehicle was licensed. All I can tell you is that the ticket was issued when the vehicle was parked near the university campus and that there’s a D and an A in the number.”

“Okay, I’ll get back to you in an hour or so with that. How’s Miss Boraski?”

“Oh Vicky’s recovering well. She should be discharged in a day or so.”

“And she’s been helpful?”

“She’s been a star. I’ll fill you in on the details when we get back to Springfield,” I said, although wondering if our journey was about to take us elsewhere.

“No problem,” I said to Lucy after I hung up. “Matt should get back to us within the hour. I was sufficiently circumspect for him not to ask too many questions. Once we get the plate we’ll get the registered owner’s details.”

“Can’t the police help with that?”

“I don’t want them breathing down my neck. I’ll get what I want online.”

True to his word Matt called back with the number in less than an hour. He had more than just the number.

“It’s registered to a local address in Greene County,” he said. “Charles Landry,” he added. “You need any help with this?”

“Not right now Matt. I’m just working a hunch but there’s not enough to go on for the police to get involved. I’ll keep you posted though.”

“Let’s get packed up,” I said to Lucy. “We’re going back to Springfield.”

While Lucy packed our stuff I went online to check. The vehicle was indeed registered to a Charles Landry at 2067 Farm Road to the northeast of the city. We checked out of the hotel and I dropped Lucy at the hospital to say goodbye to Vicky before driving to Kent Benson’s office.

“We’ve done everything we can here,” I said. “Thanks for all your help; we’re heading back to Springfield. We’ve made arrangements for Vicky to stay with her friend Jillian when she’s discharged. I’ve spoken to Dr. Fletcher and she’ll be okay to make a statement tomorrow or the day after; you can arrange a suitable time though him. We’ll keep in touch and let you know if we turn anything else up. Thanks again for your help and your hospitality.”

Kent Benson looked at me grim-faced.

“I’m afraid there’s been a significant development, Kane. You better sit down,” he said.

When somebody tells you to sit down they’re either going to tell you you’ve won the lottery or they’re going to hit you with some bad news. I was under no illusion which one it would be on this occasion. I sat down.

“I’m afraid it’s bad news. There’s no way to put a shine on it I’m afraid. I think we’ve located the remains of Marisa Roberts. I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath. “Then you’d better let me have it,” I said.

“As you know we’ve been removing the debris from the burnt-out house you located. It’s not an easy job because we’re trying to preserve the scene as much as possible. We brought in some heavy equipment to move the large structures so that we could get down to the basement to examine it properly. That in itself was not without problems due to the location of the house, and there’ve been safety issues too. But we’ve been working around the clock and we got access to the basement early this morning. There’s still a lot to be done but we’ve discovered what’s left of human remains down there. A forensic examiner from Jackson County arrived a couple of hours ago to take charge of the scene. He’s only had time for a preliminary investigation and the remains are burned and charred beyond recognition, but he’s been able to confirm that the remains are female, a young female he thinks.”

I remembered the shiver that had gone up my spine when I first saw the burnt remains of the house. It was a premonition. Marisa was indeed down there amongst the ashes. It wasn’t a surprise to me. Although outwardly I’d tried to display optimism, common sense had told me that the regenerators would have destroyed the witness along with the evidence.

“I’m sorry. It must be a cruel blow after all your hard work,” Benson said.

“Yes it is – but it’s not unexpected. As soon as I saw what was left of the house and car I instinctively knew that we’d find what was left of Marisa down there. Nothing else would have made any sense. You burn the house and the car, you’re not going to spare the witness,” I said.

“Of course there’s no definitive proof that they’re the remains of Marisa. As I said there’s still work to be done…”

“Are the remains likely to yield any DNA?” I said. “I know that intense heat destroys it.”

“It’s too early to know whether DNA extraction and profiling is going to be possible. If anything the finding of her remains is only going to slow the operation down. All work at the site has been halted whie we wait for a forensics team to arrive. They’ll want to recover all the remains before any other work is done, and that’s likely to be a painstaking job. All I can say right now is that the pathologist at the scene will make the search for bone fragments a priority – everything takes second place to that of course. When they’ve recovered all the remains we’ll be in a better position to assess the possibility of extracting usable DNA.”

“I’m afraid my assistant isn’t going to take this at all well,” I said, already rehearsing how I was going to break the news to Lucy – and to Vicky in due course.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing more for you to do here,” Benson said. “A full state police operation will be mounted just as soon as we have confirmation of the investigation. We’ll need to interview Vicky as soon as possible. You think she’ll be up for that today?”

“I guess so,” I said. “You better consult Dr. Fletcher. Look, I don’t want to interfere in a police investigation but I’d ask you not to break the news about Marisa to Vicky if you can possibly avoid it. She’s due back in Springfield soon and I’d like to find the best way of telling her myself.”

Benson thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t think it will be necessary to do that. We’re only concerned with her account of the abduction and what happened in the house before she escaped.”

“I better go,” I said. “I’ve arranged to pick up Lucy from the hospital – she just dropped by there to say goodbye to Vicky. We’ll keep in touch – please keep Matt up to date on your investigation. We won’t be leaving Springfield until we have conclusive proof that the body’s Marisa’s.”

I took the short drive to the hospital and found Lucy waiting at the door.

“Hop in – let’s go,” I said.

As soon as Lucy got in the car she knew something was wrong. She could read the expression on my face as easy as a college graduate could read Dr. Seuss.

“What is it?” she said. “What’s happened?”

I turned towards her, put my arm around her and gently pulled her head on to my shoulder.

“I’m afraid we were too late,” I said. “They’ve found what they believe to be Marisa’s remains in the burnt-out house. It was always a likelihood I’m afraid.”

She didn’t cry, she didn’t move her head. “You did your best,” she said to me gently. “Nobody could have done more.”

We sat there in the hospital carpark for a while. After a couple of minutes Lucy said, “Are they sure it’s her?”

I gave her a squeeze and switched on the ignition. “Come on, let’s get back to Springfield, we still have work to do.” I eased the car forward and headed for the exit.

“You said they believe the remains are Marisa’s. So they’re not sure?”

“The remains are badly burnt. They’re not even sure at this stage whether they’ll be able to extract DNA,” I said. “But realistically who else could it be? The only other females that Vicky told us about were Bliss and Serene, and since they were part of the gang it’s unlikely to be one of them.”

“What are we going to tell Roberts?”

“Nothing right now. First of all, I want to be sure before I tell him anything. And second, if the remains are those of his daughter I’ll tell him face to face. I’m not going to give him that kind of news over the telephone.”

“But from what you’ve said it may not be possible to establish that the body’s Marisa’s. I mean if they can’t extract DNA.”

“There are other ways; dental records for example. Teeth are more resilient than bones – those are likely to be recovered. But the quickest way to find out is to get hold of those assholes responsible for all this. We’ve got a name, we’ve got an address and we’ve got a vehicle license plate number.”

“You’re not going to let this go are you?”

“No, we’re not going to let this go. It may not be strictly part of the job we were hired to do but we’ve got some unfinished business.”

We drove mainly in silence. My thoughts were of an old man in a row house in Cambridge, a rug over his legs and a shawl around his shoulders. And I remembered the promise I’d made – a silent promise – that I’d bring his daughter home. And I knew now that I couldn’t do that but I was going to make sure that those responsible for her kidnapping and death were never going to harm anyone else’s daughter. As we approached Springfield I programmed the satnav to guide me to the house on Farm Road. It was just after two o’clock when I pulled up about a hundred yards past number 2067.

“I’m going to go take a look,” I said. “You wait here.”

2067 was a two story duplex. It was impossible to tell from a distance whether anyone was home, but out back there was a dark gray Toyota SUV. I checked the license. If the vehicle was there it was a good bet that the regenerators were inside. I walked back to the Ford and climbed in; then I drove a few hundred yards further down the road, and dug out my cell phone.

“We’re going to need some backup,” I said to Lucy.

Chapter Twenty Eight

The House on Farm Road

Shakes and Tommy pulled up alongside the Ford less than thirty minutes after I made the call. They parked their bikes and climbed into the rear seats behind Lucy and me.

“Now listen to me guys – if this is our lucky day the assholes we’ve been looking for are in a house back there; number 2067. So here’s the plan. I’m expecting to find three guys and two girls inside. We’re going in around the back – I’ve checked the rear door and it’ll be a cinch to bust in that way. I’m not worried about the noise – the more the better probably. Lucy here has my 38. She’ll be out front just in case anyone tries to make a bolt for it. It’s not loaded but I doubt anyone will want to take a chance on that. I’ve only got two sets of cuffs, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Our job is to neutralize them and then call the sheriff to take over. We could call the sheriff now to get some boys over here but that’s not the way I want to play it. I may want a word or two with those assholes first. I don’t want any rough stuff – at least no more than’s absolutely necessary. We’re not here on some kind of vendetta, we’re here to make a citizen’s arrest and secure the scene. I’ve no reason to believe that any of them are likely to be armed, and from experience I can tell you that when you have the element of surprise on your side there’s unlikely to be much resistance. Any questions?”

No-one had any questions. Nobody said anything.

“Okay, Shakes, Tommy follow me down there. The house is on a corner, so just past the house we’ll make a right and park about a hundred yards down.

Tommy and Shakes got out. I did a U-turn and drove back down the road. Just past the house I made a right turn, drove past the rear driveway and pulled over to the curb-side, level with the end of the lot; Shakes and Tommy pulled up on their bikes behind me.

“Okay Lucy,” I said. “As soon as we make our move towards the rear door I want you to drive around and park out front. Stay in the car, roll down the window and watch the door. If anybody comes through the door you know what to do. Just like we practiced, okay.”

Lucy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

I got out of the car and was walking towards Shakes and Tommy when the rear door of the house opened and two men walked out and climbed into the Toyota. I recognized Charlie as he climbed into the driver’s seat. As the Toyota left the driveway it turned left towards Farm Road and then right in the direction of Springfield.

“Change of plan, guys,” I said to my Scouts. “Follow them and the first chance you get call 911. I want both of you on their tail in case they split up someplace. I don’t want to lose anybody, got it? I’ll handle everything here.”

Tommy and Shakes climbed onto their Harleys and in a near-deafening roar they were gone.

“911, okay?” I shouted after them as they sped off in a cloud of dust, but my voice was swallowed by the roar of the Harleys.

Lucy slid over into the driver’s seat. “Please be careful,” she said to me through the open window. I blew her a kiss as I headed for the back door and the Ford pulled out and disappeared around the corner.

I walked up to the back door and peered through the adjacent window into an empty kitchen. The kitchen door was slightly ajar. I pulled open the screen, turned the door handle and stepped inside, into the total silence of what appeared to be an empty house. I walked over and pushed open the kitchen door. There was a narrow hallway leading to the front door and a room on either side. The door to the room on the left was closed. I opened it and looked inside. It was empty apart from a few sticks of furniture. I pushed open the other door. Doren was asleep on the couch. I walked over and stared at him for a moment and then leaned over and slapped him hard on the side of his face. He sprung up into a sitting position.

“Jesus,” he said, rubbing his cheek, “What the…”

“Get up and put your hands against the wall,” I said.

“Who the hell are…?”

“Get up and put your hands against the wall,” I said. “Don’t make me say it again.”

He was shaking. I stepped back a couple of paces and he stood facing me.

“Look man, I…”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

He turned and put his hands against the wall. I pulled back his right arm and cuffed his wrist and then I took hold of his other arm and cuffed his wrists together. I turned him around and pushed him back onto the couch.

“What do you want, man?”

“Where are the girls?” I said.

“What girls? I’m here alone man. Ain’t nobody else here.”

I walked out of the room, opened the front door and waved to Lucy. I beckoned her to come inside.

I walked back into the living room. Lucy came in a few seconds later.

“Lucy, go take a look upstairs,” I said.

After a few minutes she was back. “There’s nobody else in the house,” she said. “The basement door’s locked though.”

“Where’s the key to the basement?” I said, to the forlorn figure on the couch.

“I don’t know, man; I don’t live here I just…”

“I know almost as much about you as your mother does, Doren – now where’s the goddam key?”

At the mention of his name his demeanor changed as suddenly as a stop light.

“It was Charlie man, it was all Charlie, I…”

“Save it,” I said. “Where’s the key?”

“It’s hanging over the refrigerator. Look man you gotta believe me…”

“Watch him Lucy,” I said.

Lucy pulled out the 38 and aimed the empty gun at his stomach. I walked out to the kitchen and lifted the key off its hook. I walked over to the basement door and opened it. There was a steep flight of stairs leading down, and at the bottom of the stairs was another door. I put the same key in the door and opened it. It was pitch black inside. There was a light switch outside the door and I flipped it on. I found myself looking into a room which was empty apart from a bed against the far wall. Sitting on the bed was a young girl with her mouth slightly open and an expression which may have been surprise or shock or fear or a combination of all three. The girl had long brown hair, elfin features and eyes the color of an Arctic sky.

I smiled at her. “Hello Marisa,” I said.

*

I walked over and took her by the hand. “Your dad’s been worried about you,” I said. “You missed his birthday call. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

She got up from the bed and her knees buckled slightly. I steadied her.

“You okay?” I said. “You’ve had quite an adventure.”

“Who are you?” she said.

“A friend; come on.”

She walked past me and up the flight of stairs into the kitchen. I called out to Lucy and she came into the kitchen, the gun hanging loosely by her side and stopped in her tracks. “Marisa,” she said.

“This is Lucy,” I said. “She’s my assistant − we’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I took the gun from Lucy. “You won’t need that anymore,” I said. “I want you to take Marisa to the hospital.”

“No, I’m okay,” Marisa said.

“I’m sure you’re just fine,” I said. “But I think you should go anyway. Lucy will stay there with you and I’ll be over to see you later. Okay?”

“Okay, thanks,” she said.

“I’m going to call the sheriff,” I said to Lucy. “They’ll want me to make a statement so I’ll need to go back to the sheriff’s office. Might take some time, but I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

Lucy was smiling broadly, but she had tears in her eyes too. “Come on kid, let’s go,” she said, and they disappeared through the front door.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Honorary Scouts

It was after six by the time I arrived at the Ozarks Community Hospital on North National Avenue and Marisa was already tucked up in bed. She had been examined thoroughly and apart from mild dehydration was found to be fit and healthy, but it was nevertheless decided that she should spend a precautionary night in the hospital.

Shakes and Tommy had grabbed Charlie and Max outside a local delicatessen and detained them until the police arrived. Charlie had lost a couple of teeth in the process.

“He resisted arrest,” Tommy explained to the sheriff.

I saw them at the sheriff’s office and told them the good news about Marisa. I hadn’t told them earlier about the finding of remains which were suspected to be Marisa’s. I needed level heads and, remembering what Tommy had said about his temper, I’d been concerned about Tommy’s reaction to the news. In the circumstances I think it was a wise decision on my part.

“I haven’t called your dad yet,” I said to Marisa, “but we’ll do that just as soon as we get back to the hotel. We’re going to leave you in peace now, but we’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up when you’re discharged. You’ll be flying back to Boston with us, but the police are going to want to take a statement from you tomorrow, so we’ll probably book a flight for the day after. Jillian’s going to pick up Vicky tomorrow afternoon from the hospital in Clinton and she’d like you to spend tomorrow night at her place with Vicky – okay?”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “It’s still like a dream. But I’m lucky, I guess. You know it’s my fault, what happened to Bliss and Serene. I can’t get it out of my head. They were just ordinary girls; they didn’t deserve to die like that.”

I hadn’t intended to ask Marisa about her ordeal. It was a matter for the police now and I thought she’d already been through enough, but I needed to know.

“What happened to them, Marisa?”

“When we came back…after they took me to call Jillian…” Tears suddenly welled up in Marisa’s eyes.

“It’s okay Marisa. Whatever happened wasn’t your fault,” I said.

“Charlie was furious – he went crazy. He thought they’d let Vicky go. I didn’t tell him they’d been drugged; it wasn’t their fault. I was still thinking that maybe I could use the drug again to make my own escape. Then afterwards he went out to buy gasoline and when he came back he told everybody that they had to burn the place. He told Bliss and Serene to go down to the basement to douse everything in gas; then he just tossed a match down there…it was horrible. I can still hear their screams. I’ll never forget those screams.”

“You’ve been though a dreadful ordeal and it’s still raw,” I said. “But life goes on, Marisa and gradually you’ll come to terms with it. I’ve seen some terrible things in my life too, and my own father had to cope with dreadful things he witnessed in Vietnam, but the brain has ways of helping us all to cope and in time you’ll learn how to deal with those memories. And you must balance things in your mind too. You couldn’t possibly have anticipated what Charlie would do. You were understandably thinking of your own safety. And Vicky’s probably alive today only because of your help, you mustn’t ever forget that.”

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s been torturing me –even more than my own situation.”

“You get some rest now and we’ll see you tomorrow,” Lucy said.

Back at our old hotel I called Dean Roberts. I was relieved when Timpson answered the phone. “Ah, Mr. Kane, I’ll put you though to Mr. Roberts.”

“No, it’s you I want to talk to. I’ve called to tell you that we’ve found Marisa and she’s safe and sound. I’d like you to pass the message to Mr. Roberts if you would. He’s not a well man, Timpson, and even good news can be a shock to the system. I think it better that you deal with it if you don’t mind.”

“It will be my pleasure, sir.”

“Marisa’s in the hospital for the night – it’s strictly routine and I assure you she’s fine. If you have a pen, I’ll give you the number to call. We expect to be back in Boston the day after tomorrow.”

“Very good, sir; I’ll let Mr. Roberts know.”

“Did you really think that Marisa was dead when we left Clinton this afternoon?” Lucy said after I hung up.

“Yes, I did – though I was still hoping against hope that I was wrong.”

“Somehow I didn’t believe it,” Lucy said. “Even then. I could sort of sense that she was still alive.”

“Maybe you’re clairvoyant,” I said.

“That’d be a good name for an actress, don’t you think?” she said, as she disappeared into the bathroom.

“What?”

“Clare Voyant.”

Lucy came back into the bedroom to dry her hair.

“I wonder why they let Marisa live,” she said.

“I was wondering about that myself. Perhaps we’ll find out more once the police have interviewed Charlie and his brothers.”

“His brothers?”

“Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. Charlie, Doren and Max are brothers. Charlie’s the oldest apparently. It may be that the younger brothers mediated on her behalf. From what Vicky told us Charlie was the real badass. And then I guess in Charlie’s eyes she’d done nothing to deserve to die. In Charlie’s warped mind the girls had double-crossed him; he didn’t know they’d been drugged. But I think it may be simpler than that. If Charlie believed that Bliss and Serene were complicit in Vicky’s escape, then he must have been worried what their next move would be. After all, if they’d helped Vicky escape, knowing she’d go to the police, then Charlie must have considered them a real risk to his safety. He wouldn’t have been concerned about his brothers. Apart from being family they were apparently firmly under his control; and he wouldn’t be worried about Marisa because she was firmly under his control as well – although in a different way. He may have seen the girls as loose cannons. From the little I know about Charlie I suspect that his actions were carefully considered rather than the result of a sudden fit of pique.”

“But that degree of ruthlessness would cast doubt on Sally Bowman’s opinion that they only used willing donors for their transplants wouldn’t it?”

“Well we may find out more when the police investigation’s complete. I reckon Doren will be chomping at the bit to tell everything he knows to try and divert blame from himself. After all, from what Marisa told us neither he nor Max were involved in the murder of Bliss and Serene."

During our meal with Jillian, Shakes, Tommy and Jacky, I thought what an important part our dinner companions had played in bringing Marisa home. And chance, that elusive element, had played an important part too: the picture that Marisa had sent to Jacky; the cryptic call from Marisa which almost went unnoticed; the discovery of Cindy’s body which led us to Clinton and Vicky; and Fooks, because by chance Lucy had seen a movie about a hypnotist. But four women had needlessly died, maybe more for all I knew.

“Do you think Marisa and Vicky will be alright now?” Jillian said. “Even though they’re safe their ordeal is likely to haunt them for a long time to come.”

“I’m more worried about Vicky than Marisa,” I said. “Marisa has a loving father and a comfortable home to return to and college or a career to focus on. Vicky has none of those things.”

“Well she’s welcome to stay with us as long as she likes,” Shakes said.

“It’s a shame Marisa can’t stick around a while longer,” Tommy said. “She’s a great kid.”

“She’s got a father who dotes on her and can’t wait to be reunited,” I said. “But I’m sure she’ll want to come back and see you guys sometime.”

Our celebration dinner was a great success, and culminated in Lucy and I being made honorary Scouts.

“Do you think that means I’ll have to get a tattoo?” Lucy said as she drove us back to the hotel.

“I think that’s only de rigueur for fully-fledged members,” I said.

Chapter Thirty

The Complaint

It was a week after our return from Springfield and we’d just got back from morning tea with Dean Roberts and his daughters.

“I send you off to find my missing daughter,” he said, “and you bring me back two. What man could ask for more than that?”

It had been Marisa’s idea, warmly embraced by her father.

“Vicky needs to put down some roots,” Marisa said. “She’s never really had a proper family so I want her to be part of ours now.”

Dean Roberts thought this a wonderful idea and was already making plans to find a college for her to attend and making inquiries about a formal adoption.

“So I’ll have a sister,” Marisa said. “How cool is that?”

Vicky was overwhelmed at first but had gratefully accepted the kind offer.

As for the police investigation Max and Doren were heaping all the blame on their elder brother, as I’d expected, and Charlie had offered to give up the surgeon who’d operated on the dead girls in an attempt to escape the death penalty. That matter was still under consideration but was likely to be accepted in the circumstances. If so it would result in a plea of guilty by Charlie and perhaps Vicky and Marisa would be spared the ordeal of having to testify in court. Time would tell.

As I was thinking about all these things and Lucy was cooking lunch for us both in my kitchen my cell phone rang.

“Hello, Kane,” I said.

“It’s Florence Cartwright,” a voice said, somewhat indignantly.

“How may I help you Mrs. Cartwright?”

“Help me? You can’t help me. I’m calling to make a complaint.”

“I see, about what exactly?” I said, struggling to place the name.

“I hired your firm to find Mr. Tibbs over a month ago and you’ve done absolutely nothing. Call yourselves detectives? It’s a disgrace.”

“Mr. Tibbs?”

“Your assistant promised to do everything she could to find him and I never heard from her again. And when I called your office the girl there told me you were both away − in Missouri of all places.”

“Well yes, we…”

“I’m not interested in listening to your excuses,” she said. “I was intending to make a formal complaint to…whoever it is you complain to in cases like this. However, fortunately for you Mr. Tibbs has returned of his own free will so I’m prepared to let the matter rest there. I hope you’re not planning to send me a bill.” She hung up.

“Lucy,” I said in the direction of the kitchen, “who’s Mr. Tibbs?”

She leaned over the kitchen counter and smiled mischievously at me.

“The missing cat,” she said. “Remember?”

***

Follow the series. In the next book, ‘I Spy’ Kane & Lucy are up to their eyes in dead bodies…See over the page

Book Six

Kane and Lucy find themselves with two case to investigate: one an apparent murder/suicide and the other a tragic accident – or was it? As they struggle to make sense of the apparently contradictory evidence they discover that neither case is as straightforward as it appears.

When the police discover the body of Cynthia Hughes in the kitchen floor and her husband Bob hanged in the garage it seems like an open-and-shut case – but Bob’s mistress, Angela, doesn’t buy it and she hires Kane and Lucy to find the real killer. Meanwhile Mike Kingsley’s son has died after being struck by a train and the police have ruled it an accidental death. But was it? As Kane and Lucy struggle with the two cases simultaneously they discover that they have something in common – neither case is quite what it seems to be… (See it on Amazon)

To learn about all the books in the Mark Kane Mysteries Series please read on…

A Word from the Author

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The Mark Kane Mysteries Series

A short synopsis of each book in the series appears on the next few pages.

Feedback from my readers is important to me, so if you have any suggestions, comments or observations about any of the books in this series please contact me.

John Hemmings

November 2015

Book One: Forget Me Not

A devoted husband has planted a carpet of Forget-Me-Nots in memory of his wife who has recently died from complications following the rapid progression of Alzheimer's disease…Or has she?

Greg Philips’ wife, Gloria, has recently died after suffering from chronic dementia, leaving her long-lost illegitimate daughter, Susan, a large slice of her estate. But is Susan who she claims to be? And was Gloria mentally competent when she made her will or was she manipulated in some way? Boston Investigator Mark Kane is hired to discover the truth, but as the investigation proceeds he soon finds himself embroiled in a murder mystery, and as the suspects mount up he needs all his wits about him to find out the truth, and prevent Greg’s adult sons from financial ruin or worse. As usual, Kane’s longtime companion Lucy is there to lend him a helping hand, but will she be able to help him solve the mystery? (See it on Amazon)

Book Two: Ice

Kane is on the trail of a gang of International drug smugglers who'll think nothing of murdering anyone who gets in their way

Jenny Garcia has returned to Boston from a vacation overseas little knowing that her suitcase contained a valuable haul of illicit drugs hidden inside. When the bag is stolen from her at the airport Boston investigator Mark Kane is given the difficult job of retrieving the suitcase and finding out who is responsible for putting Jenny in such terrible danger. But when the two men who could have provided the answers are found dead Kane has his work cut out for him. As Lucy stumbles upon a vital piece of evidence the case suddenly takes a new turn. Has Kane been looking in all the wrong places? And when a kidnapping puts the whole investigation on a different footing he needs to call on all his experience and cunning to save the victim from harm and bring the culprits to justice. (See it on Amazon)

Book Three: The Black Widow

Eight thousand miles from Boston the badly decomposed body of an American tourist has been found floating in the sea and Kane is about to get reluctantly involved in the case.

On vacation in Thailand Lucy befriends Dale Porter, a fellow American, but her idyllic break is cut short when Dale is arrested for murder. She enlists Kane’s assistance and they head to the Philippines to look for answers. Kane deputizes Lucy as his temporary assistant investigator and together they set out to solve the mystery of a body found floating in the sea and to try to prove that Dale was not responsible for his death. They travel from Manila to Subic Bay in their quest for the truth and identify several suspects along the way − including the dead man’s widow. But the victim had many enemies too. And why had Dale disguised the victim’s boat and concealed it in a secret location? As they struggle to unravel the victim’s complicated life Kane is finally driven to an unexpected and shocking conclusion. (See it on Amazon)

Book Four: Till Death

Don and Lisa Maddox’ idyllic marriage is threatened when Lisa is targeted by blackmailers, and private investigator Mark Kane is hired to investigate − but he soon realizes that he is investigating more than just blackmail, and finds himself searching for a serial killer as well − and with trouble at the office too it’s one headache after another. But who is responsible for the bizarre deaths? And what secret is Lisa so desperate to hide from her husband? Kane and his newly appointed assistant investigator Lucy head west to The Twin Cities to look for answers but they are plagued with setbacks and are met with a wall of silence. As Lucy observes, “It’s as if some malign force keeps putting obstacles in our way.” But Kane and Lucy must find a way forward if they are to thwart the blackmailers and find the killer. (See it on Amazon)

Book Five: Missing

Dean Roberts is a sick, elderly man with just one precious thing in his life -- his teenage daughter Marisa.  When she mysteriously disappears in Springfield, Missouri on a road trip across America the police draw a blank, so Dean hires Kane and Lucy to find her and bring her home.

When Kane and Lucy set out for Missouri to find a teenager who has gone missing during a road trip across the States they soon realize that she and her traveling companion have been abducted by a sinister group whose victims are turning up dead – real dead. But what is the motive for her abduction? Nothing has been stolen from her bank account, no demand for a ransom has been made, and a phone call from the missing girl a few days after her abduction just adds to the mystery. In a race against time they enlist the assistance of local law enforcement officers and friends of the pair in a desperate attempt to find the two girls before it’s too late. (See it on Amazon)

Book Six: I Spy

Kane and Lucy find themselves with two case to investigate: one an apparent murder/suicide and the other a tragic accident – or was it? As they struggle to make sense of the apparently contradictory evidence they discover that neither case is as straightforward as it appears.

When the police discover the body of Cynthia Hughes in the kitchen floor and her husband Bob hanged in the garage it seems like an open-and-shut case – but Bob’s mistress, Angela, doesn’t buy it and she hires Kane and Lucy to find the real killer. Meanwhile Mike Kingsley’s son has died after being struck by a train and the police have ruled it an accidental death. But was it? As Kane and Lucy struggle with the two cases simultaneously they discover that they have something in common – neither case is quite what it seems to be… (See it on Amazon)

Book Seven: A Tangled Web

When Marjorie Griffiths learns that her husband has had a clandestine meeting with a young woman at a local motel, she hires private enquiry agent Dick Hampton to keep him under surveillance.

When Hampton informs her that her husband is in a room at the motel, with the same woman, she hurries over there and when she sees her husband leave and drive away she decides to confront the woman.

And then she vanishes.

When Marjorie’s husband, Chuck, reports her missing, he becomes an immediate suspect in her disappearance. He hires attorney Oliver Davies to advise him, and Davies recommends Kane & Lucy to investigate Marjorie’s mysterious disappearance. But when traces of Marjorie’s blood are found in the matrimonial home and in her abandoned car, Chuck is arrested; and this is only the beginning of his nightmare, as demons from his past return to threaten and even destroy him.