Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(48)

She thanked him as she walked off, looking both ways, seeing nothing. “Olivia!” she called out as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her number. Her call went directly to voice mail. “Olivia, where are you? Call me right back.”

Maybe Olivia had headed back for the car, Jessie thought as she turned around, calling her name as she went. All the emotions from the days after Sophie went missing came rushing back.

“Olivia!” she called out once again, louder this time. Before she reached the car, she spotted Olivia up ahead, exiting the same house where Jessie had seen her last.

Olivia looked her way and waved, oblivious to the turmoil Jessie was experiencing.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Jessie said when she approached, trying hard to catch her breath, angry and relieved at the same time.

“Do what?”

“I had no idea where you went.”

“I saw you slip through the side gate across the street,” Olivia said, “so when Mrs. Goodman invited me inside, I figured it would be fine.”

Jessie started walking toward her car parked at the curb. She could hear Olivia’s footsteps directly behind her on the sidewalk.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jessie stopped and turned around. “No.” She took a breath. “I was scared. It turns out that Zee might not be the only young woman who disappeared from this area.” She paused, thought about what she was feeling. “When I couldn’t find you, I panicked. It was my fault. I never should have let you out of my sight.”

“I was right by the front door the entire time. I’m not a little kid.”

“You’re right. I have a lot going on right now. Colin stopped by last night to let me know the Heartless Killer is on the prowl again. My every nerve is shot.”

Jessie opened the car door and climbed in behind the wheel.

Olivia opened the passenger door and said, “Can I drive?”

“No.”

“I’ll be fifteen soon. I need to learn to drive sooner or later.”

“No. Get in.”

Olivia shut the door and buckled her seat belt.

Neither of them said a word for the rest of the drive. Jessie’s adrenaline was still working overtime when they reached Sacramento. For a moment in time, she’d thought she might have lost Olivia. It was something she never wanted to experience again.





TWENTY-SIX

The most important part of Ben’s job as a crime reporter was spending time on the crime beat. He hung around police stations, firehouses, and medical technicians. He’d gone on countless ride-alongs and had been walked through unsolved cases with a number of homicide detectives. He knew the judicial process because of long hours spent in the courthouse. He knew what police officers and detectives dealt with on a daily basis.

Too often reporters merely wrote accounts of a crime as it occurred, using little background or depth. A good reporter needed to do his homework, which is why Ben had spent enough time with these guys to earn their respect. They knew he cared about trends and the impact crimes had on a community. And for that reason, he was granted access to things many reporters were not.

Today Ben was at the Auburn Police Department, waiting to talk to Police Lieutenant Anne Garcia. He liked Anne. She was professional and seemed to see things many people didn’t. She’d always been a good listener with a keen eye to conscious and unconscious gestures and body movements.

Lieutenant Garcia had been the first officer to arrive at the scene of Ben’s car accident ten years ago. The vehicle, a stolen 1974 Ford Pinto, had crashed head-on into a tree and exploded after veering off Highway 49 onto a secluded side road and into an area known for hiking and rock climbing. The crash occurred at one in the morning on August 18, 2007. The driver, identified as Vernon Doherty, a young man he had never heard of, was found dead at the scene, 90 percent of his body burned to a crisp.

Ben was led to a conference room, where Lieutenant Garcia was waiting for him. They shook hands, and the door was closed behind him as they sat across from each other.

“How are you doing, Ben? Busy working the Heartless Killer case?”

“Gavin is covering the case for the Tribune, but he keeps me in the loop. I heard about Natalie Bailey being taken from her bed while her husband slept. Any evidence her abduction is connected?”

Anne shook her head. “It’s too early to tell.”

At forty-five, Anne was five years older than he was, but she took good care of herself and looked years younger. She also had a practiced charm about her and a wide smile that drew people in.

Despite the oddity surrounding the crash—stolen car, drug-and-alcohol level of the driver, and Ben’s amnesia diagnosis—it was determined that Ben must have been working on a lead and was a victim of circumstance. Why else would he be in a stolen car with Doherty? Nobody, including Ben himself, had ever questioned his innocence.

The reason Ben had come today was because Leanne Baxter had mentioned seeing Sophie Cole with two men that night. One of them had been wearing a skull ring. The moment Leanne had mentioned the ring, Ben had seen an image in his mind. A hand falling through a wall of fire before landing on the console next to him. Fingers limp, skin melting from bone, and a skull ring on the middle finger. Like other images he’d seen lately, this one had been vividly clear, nothing like a hazy dream after a long night of tossing and turning.