"I have to think if she was using an online group, she'd have access at home."
"Her brother says she's at work all the time."
"Maybe they all met in person. Like AA or a knitting group."
"It's hardly something you can pin up on the community bulletin board. 'Like starving yourself to death? Come join us!' "
"How else would they all meet?"
"Jackie is a realtor, Olivia is a banker who doesn't write mortgages, Pauline is an interior designer, and Anna does whatever she does—probably something equally as lucrative." She gave a heavy sigh. "It has to be the chat room, Will. How else would they all know each other?"
"Why do they have to know each other?" he countered. "The only person they have to know is the abductor. Who would have contact with women working in all those different fields?"
"Janitor, cable guy, trash man, exterminator . . ."
"Amanda's had Information Processing going through all those things. If there was a connection, it would be evident by now."
"Forgive me for not holding out hope. They've had two days and they can't even find Jake Berman." She cut the wheel, turning onto North Avenue. Two Atlanta Police cruisers blocked the scene. They could see Leo in the distance, his hands waving wildly as he screamed at some poor kid in uniform.
Faith's phone rang again. She dropped it into her pocket as she got out of the car. "I'm not on Leo's favorite list right now. Maybe you should do the talking."
Will agreed that was best, especially considering the fact that Leo already looked a couple of notches beyond furious. He was still yelling at the cop when they approached him. Every other word was "fuck" and his face was so red Will wondered if he might be having a heart attack.
Overhead, a police helicopter hovered, what the locals called a Ghetto Bird. The chopper was so close to the ground that Will could feel his eardrums pulsing. Leo waited for it to move on before demanding, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Will said, "That missing persons case you gave us—Olivia Tanner. There were Taser dots at the scene that trace back to a cartridge purchased by Pauline Seward."
Leo muttered another "Fuck."
"We also found some evidence at Pauline McGhee's office that connects her back to the cave."
Leo's curiosity got the better of him. "You think Pauline's your doer?"
Will hadn't even considered the thought. "No, we think she's been taken by the same man who took the other women. We need to know as much as we can—"
"Not much to tell," he interrupted. "I talked to Michigan this morning. I was sitting on it, since your partner's such a ray of fucking sunshine lately."
Faith opened her mouth but Will held out his hand to stop her. "What did you find out?"
Leo said, "I talked to an old-timer they got on the desk. Name's Dick Winters. Been on the job thirty years and they got him straddling the phones. You believe that shit?"
"Did he remember Pauline?"
"Yeah, he remembered her. She was a good-looking kid. Sounded like the old guy had a boner for her."
Will could not possibly care less right now about some skuzzy old cop bird dogging a teenager. "What happened?"
"He picked her up a couple of times for shoplifting, drinking too much and gettin' loud about it. He never ran her in—just took her back home, told her to straighten up. She was underage, but when she hit seventeen, it was harder to sweep it under the rug. Some store owner got a bee up his ass and pressed charges for the shoplifting. The old cop visits the family to help them out, sees something ain't right. He tucks his dick back in his pants, realizes it's time for him to do his job. The girl's got problems at school, problems at home. She tells the cop that she's being abused."
"Was social services called in?"
"Yeah, but little Pauline disappeared before they could talk to her."
"Did the cop remember the names? The parents? Anything?"
Leo shook his head. "Nothing. Just Pauline Seward." He snapped his fingers. "He did say there was a brother kind of touched in the head, if you know what I mean. Just a strange little fucker."
"Strange how?"
"Weird. You know how it is. You get a vibe."
Will had to ask again, "But the cop doesn't remember his name?"
"All the records are sealed because she was a juvenile. Throw in family court, and that's another obstacle," Leo said. "You're gonna need a warrant in Michigan to get them open. This was twenty years ago. There was some kind of fire in records ten years back, the old guy says. Might not even be a file to look up."
"Exactly twenty years?" Faith asked.
Leo gave her a sideways look. "Twenty years come Easter."
Will wanted to get this straight. "Pauline McGhee, or Seward, went missing twenty years from this Sunday, Easter Sunday?"
"No," Leo said. "Easter was in March twenty years ago."
Faith asked, "Did you look it up?"
He shrugged. "It's always the Sunday following the first full moon that occurs after the spring equinox."
Will took a minute to realize he was speaking English. It was like a cat barking. "Are you sure?"
"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" he asked. "Shit, don't answer that. The old guy was sure of it. Pauline bunked on March twenty-sixth. Easter Sunday."
Will tried to do the math, but Faith beat him to it. "Two weeks ago. That could fit around the time Sara said Anna was probably abducted." Her phone rang again. "Jesus," she hissed, checking the caller ID. She flipped open the phone. "What do you want?"
Faith's expression changed from extreme annoyance to shock, then disbelief. "Oh, my God." Her hand went to her chest.
Will could only think of Jeremy, Faith's son.
"What's the address?" Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Beeston Place."
Will said, "That's where Angie—"
"We'll be right there." Faith closed her phone. "That was Sara. Anna woke up. She's talking."
"What did she say about Beeston Place?"
"That's where she lives—they live. Anna has a six-month-old baby, Will. The last time she saw him was at her penthouse at Twenty-One Beeston Place."
WILL HAD JUMPED behind the wheel, slamming back the seat, taking off before Faith had even shut her door. He'd raked the gears, pushing the Mini into every turn, bouncing across metal plates covering road construction. On Piedmont, he'd bumped across the median, using the oncoming lane to swerve around traffic at the light. Faith had sat quietly beside him, holding on to the handle over the door, but he could see her teeth gritted with each bump and turn.
Faith said, "Tell me again what she said."
Will didn't want to think about Angie right now, didn't want to consider that she might know there was a kid involved, a baby whose mother had been stolen, a child who had been left alone in a penthouse apartment that had been turned into a crack den.
"Drugs," he told Faith. "That's all she said—they were using it as a drug pad."