Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(66)

The statute of limitations on sex crimes didn’t run out until twenty-two years after the victim’s eighteenth birthday, if the offense happened before the victim turned eighteen. In this case, that would give them until Nicky/Vero’s fortieth birthday to file charges. Not that the statute of limitations was a driving parameter. Wyatt personally felt duty bound to investigate any allegations of wrongdoing, regardless of how long ago the alleged incident occurred. While Joe Public had a tendency to focus on the primary offense—say, kidnapping or sex trafficking—truth was, it took crime to commit crime. For example, chances were any major sex-trafficking organization was also involved in drugs, falsifying documents, witness tampering, and/or transporting victims across state lines. If, say, invitations to these private “parties” were sent using US mail, yet another slew of charges.

Wyatt had had cases where in the end, he couldn’t prove the major offense but nailed the perpetrator on dozens of minor charges, which worked just as well.

“All right,” he said briskly. “We’ve identified Veronica Sellers, who’s been missing for thirty years. We have allegations of kidnapping and sex crimes. That alone warrants pulling together a task force, while also contacting the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Second we make those calls, this place is gonna get hopping. So now, while it’s still just you and me, what don’t we know?”

“The cause of the initial auto accident,” Kevin rattled off without hesitation. “Why had Nicky contacted Northledge Investigations, and who was she following Wednesday night?”

Wyatt studied him. “You haven’t figured out who Nicky followed home from the liquor store? Seriously?”

Kevin’s turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Absolutely.”

“Who?”

“Marlene Bilek, our favorite New Hampshire liquor store clerk. Who also happens to be Veronica Sellers’s mother.”

“What?”

“The case file, Brain. Mother’s name is given as Marlene Sellers. Who I’m guessing has since remarried and taken on the last name Bilek. But that’s who Nicky hired Northledge to find. That’s the information she got by phone on Wednesday night. Northledge had finally located her mom. At which point, Nicky took off to see her. Before she lost her courage, remember?”

Kevin scowled at him. “All right, if you’re so genius, then have you figured out why Thomas Frank torched their home? I mean, if Nicky’s story is true, she’s the victim. Even if she’s starting to remember her past, no obvious reason for the husband to toss a match and head for the hills.”

“That’s a problem,” Wyatt agreed.

“Didn’t Nicky say that her husband had a picture of Vero?” Kevin asked.

“Something like that.”

“How? If she disappeared when she was six from Boston and didn’t meet him until many years later in New Orleans, how could he have such a picture?”

Wyatt paused, considering the matter. “Maybe they didn’t magically meet in New Orleans. Maybe he knew her from before. From . . .” He hesitated. “The dollhouse.”

“If he has ties to the sex-trafficking operation,” Kevin said, “he’d have reason to run. Clearly, the walls are coming down in Nicky’s mind. Meaning the more she remembers . . .”

“The more he has to fear,” Wyatt filled in. “The story of how they met always sounded rehearsed to me. Maybe it is. Maybe Thomas’s real job has been to keep tabs on Nicky. As long as she wasn’t talking—or at least not remembering—he’s had nothing to report, and they’ve been allowed to live and let live. But then, six months ago, after that first fall down the stairs . . .”

“She started looking for Vero.”

“And hiring private investigators.”

“And moving further out of Thomas’s control.”

Wyatt nodded. “Never let it be said our job is boring. Okay, we have a boss to get on board, some calls to make, a case team to assemble.” He rose to standing, brushing off his pants, but then found himself hesitating.

“Kevin, one last question.”

“Yeah.”

“The Veronica Sellers case file. She went missing in May, right?”

“Yeah.”

Wyatt stared at his detective. “Then why is November the saddest month of the year?”


* * *



WYATT ASSIGNED ONE of the female deputies, Gina, to keep an eye on Nicky Frank in the conference room. In the meantime, he had work to do. And not just bringing the sheriff up to speed or filling out paperwork or harassing the locals on why they hadn’t managed to locate Thomas Frank yet.

It was 4 A.M. He was dog tired and more than a little confused by a case that refused to be nice, neat and orderly.

But he also was a decent guy, and truth was, he couldn’t just leave poor Nicky Frank with no place to go. Not to mention he was an above-average boyfriend who currently had unfinished business with his girl.

So he did what a guy like him did. He picked up the phone and dialed.

Tessa picked up by the second ring. Years of midnight phone calls had that effect on a person.

“Hello.” She didn’t even sound tired. He couldn’t help himself; he was proud of her.

“You talking to me?” he asked her.