Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(71)

I understand for the first time, the truth is not all out yet. And maybe not even the kind of truth that will set me free. Thomas had tried to warn me, but I hadn’t listened. Now here I am. Shivering in dread. Nearly choking on the bile of my own fear. Something, something in that darkness looms.

All these years later, is still waiting for me . . .

“Nicky?”

Tessa’s voice comes from a distance. I use it to anchor myself, pull myself back to the present.

She must see something in my eyes, because she takes my hand, helps me take a seat on the edge of one of the beds.

“Nicky, picture the dollhouse. A room, a piece of furniture, some aspect of that home, then breathe in deep and tell me what you smell. Nothing too scary or overwhelming. Just an association that comes immediately to mind.”

Funny, I don’t have to think too hard. As she said, a fragrance comes immediately to mind.

“Freshly mowed grass.”

Tessa doesn’t question or debate my choice. She simply rises to standing. “I need to run a few errands for us. I recommend using the time to freshen up. Because the moment I return, we are getting to work.”





Chapter 26




WYATT HAD STARTED to feel the burn of an endless night. He sat in his boss’s office, head sagging, as he did his best to talk his way through a case that posed way too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

“You’re sure this woman is Veronica Sellers?” Sheriff Rober asked now. “A missing girl from thirty years ago?”

“According to her fingerprints, yes.”

“You think she was kidnapped by some high-end madam, imprisoned in the woman’s home-slash-brothel until she eventually escaped. At which time she made it to New Orleans, where she married this guy Thomas, and, what, started over? Lived happily ever after for twenty-two years, until six months ago, when Thomas decided to kill her, resulting in three accidents and now a house fire.”

Wyatt nodded, though something about hearing his case as a laundry list of crimes . . .

“Can one girl be so unlucky?” the sheriff asked bluntly.

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Seems to me, you really got two cases. You have what happened thirty years ago. The kidnapping, followed by the sex crimes. Then you have today. The single MVA followed by arson. I guess followed by the missing husband.”

“We have an APB out on Thomas Frank now, as well as a trace on his cell phone. One way or another, we’ll find him.”

“But you don’t have him yet. What you have is a bunch of stories from an injured woman’s mind.”

“We know the car accident was more than an accident,” Wyatt interjected. “The stability system was disabled, the vehicle placed in neutral and most likely given a shove down the hill. That implies a second person had to be present at the time of the accident.”

“The husband again?”

“Who was very reluctant to turn over his rain jacket and went out of his way to retrieve his wife’s own clothes from that night, I believe to further conceal any evidence of his actions. Add to that him torching his own home and running for it the second we homed in on him, and yeah, he looks pretty guilty to me.”

“Why?” Sheriff Rober asked. “Twenty-two years later, what changed? Forget the wild stories of brothels and missing kids. Return to the basics. Why does a husband kill his wife?”

“Insurance money, revenge, wanting out of the marriage but not wanting to divvy up assets.” Wyatt shrugged. “We have looked at the basics, trust me. At the moment, there’s no sign of a large life insurance policy, nor any sign that either of the Franks was involved in extramarital activities. Honestly, sir, my best guess is that whatever’s happening now ties back to what happened thirty years ago.”

“You think Thomas Frank was part of this so-called dollhouse?”

“Maybe. Of course, thirty years ago, he was just a kid himself. Which makes things more complicated.”

“Fellow victim? Sex trafficking isn’t just about girls.”

“I don’t know. Kevin is running a deeper background on the Franks now. According to Thomas, he and Nicky met and married twenty-two years ago in New Orleans. Upon further investigation, however, Thomas Frank doesn’t show any activity under that name until twenty years ago. As in he never had a credit card or a driver’s license until 1995. Same with Nicole Frank.”

“Fake identities?”

“Most likely. Well done, deep enough to stand up to cursory inspection, but when you start filling in the details . . . Sure, Thomas Frank has a birth certificate. But he still never lived until the past two decades.”

“Ask the wife about it?”

“Given the state of her memory, not sure how productive, or reliable, that conversation would be.”

“Meaning, all the more reason to find Thomas and grill him.”

“Agreed.”

“So what’s your game plan?” the sheriff asked. “You got a missing suspect and a scrambled victim. What next?”

“I need to contact the National Center for Missing Children, of course. Let them know about Veronica Sellers. Thought I might see if they could send over the original documents on the missing persons case. Maybe by going through the original witness statements, I can find something that will give me some traction on what’s going on now.”