Sloane hid her skepticism. Translated, the investigators were saying that Penny either lost it and ran off to start a new life, severing all ties with her old one, or she committed suicide. Well, suicide would have produced a body and probably a note. And fleeing to start over? That theory was extreme. Especially since a year had passed. By now, Penny would have contacted her family, let them know she was okay.
None of that reasoning cheered Sloane up. Because the alternatives were far more gruesome.
“I know all the terrifying thoughts that are going through your mind right now,” Hope said. “I’ve agonized over every one of them for almost a year. None of this fits. But I have nowhere to turn. I check in with the FBI periodically. The agent at the New York field office who’s handling the case is always polite, always willing to check out anything Ronald and I come up with. But I’m not a fool. They’ve put this case on the back burner. Unless some new lead materializes…”
“Let me talk to them,” Sloane suggested. “I have contacts in the New York field office. I’ll explain the situation and tell them you’ve hired me. They’ll set up a meeting between me and the special agent in charge of your case. He or she will bring me up to speed. That’ll help me decide on the best course of action.” Sloane’s pen poised over the page. “What’s his or her name?”
“His. Special Agent Parker.”
Sloane’s chin came up. “Derek Parker?”
A nod. “Why? Do you know him?”
“Yes. I know him.” Sloane went back to writing. “We worked together in the Cleveland field office.” She shut her notebook and set aside her teacup. “I’ll contact New York first thing tomorrow and set up a meeting with him. I’ll call you right afterward and fill you in. We’ll take it from there.”
Mrs. Truman’s lips trembled. “Thank you, Sloane.”
“Thank me when I have some answers.” And pray that those answers aren’t what I expect.
Sloane rose. She wasn’t looking forward to this. The whole situation sucked. Her objectiv
ity was compromised on both sides. The odds that Penny was alive stunk. And given who the agent in charge was, the cooperation would stink, too.
She’d have to pull a few favors, set up this meeting without Derek knowing about it in advance. That would take away his home-court advantage and give her an edge—at least going in.
After that, all bets were off.
CHAPTER
THREE
Where am I?
Oh my God. Where is he?
It’s been hours since he left. Or does it just feel that way? He gagged me. I begged him not to. I promised not to scream. I couldn’t if I tried. My mouth is so dry. My throat is raw. But he said the gag was a test. A test for what?
My mind is fuzzy. I can’t remember how I got here or how long it’s been. Snatches of memory flicker, then scatter like dust. It must be the drugs.
What does he want?
He won’t tell me. All he says is that I’ll know when the time is right, and that if I’m good, he’ll leave off the gag and untie the ropes.
The mattress I’m on smells stale. So does the blanket. It’s scratchy, but at least it’s something to wrap myself in to stave off the chill. I thanked him when he gave it to me. He looked pleased.
Still, I’m so cold. My whole body aches. A rough blanket and a musty mattress do little to cushion this hard, bare floor. It feels like concrete. The room’s small, like a child’s bedroom. I can’t see much. He keeps it dimly lit. There’s a tiny window, but the curtains are drawn. It’s like I’m locked in some kind of a cage. By myself. Earlier today, I heard another voice through the wall. A woman’s voice. At least I thought I did. Maybe I was hallucinating. I can’t focus.
What is he going to do to me?
I’m not sure what’s more terrifying—finding out his plan, or lying here, helpless and waiting.
Footsteps. Coming toward the room. A key turning.
Please, God, let someone have found me. Let this nightmare end.
No. Oh no. It’s him. He’s back.
And he’s back for me.