Hide and Seek (Criminal Profiler #1)(52)

Footsteps echoed in the house, along with a soft command for the dog to be quiet. The door snapped open to a tall, thin woman wearing worn jeans, a football sweatshirt, and her hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Deputy Bennett,” the woman said.

“Mrs. Roberson. Is your husband here?”

“Yes, he’s in the TV room. You’ll have to go in there if you want to speak to him.”

“Mr. Roberson has ALS,” Bennett explained to Macy. “Mrs. Roberson, this is Special Agent Macy Crow from the FBI.”

“FBI.” Her brow knotted as if she knew a federal presence meant the scope of the case had grown. “Tell me that you’ve found my Debbie,” Martha said.

“We have not,” Macy said. “But we’d like to talk to you and your husband.”

“Nothing? That’s good news, right?”

“I don’t know what it means, ma’am,” Macy said gently. “May we come inside?”

“Of course.” The woman stepped aside and led them down a small hallway to a room outfitted with a hospital bed and a large nightstand crammed with medicines. Across from the bed, a large television playing a game show sat on an old dresser.

In the bed lay a man propped up on pillows with a thick quilt tucked up almost to his chin. Long and broad shouldered, he had been a big man before the disease had chewed away his nerve endings, had robbed him of movement and left him with a thin, withered frame.

Behind the hollowed features were alert, dark eyes that regarded Macy with keen interest. He moved his lips, but only a garbled sound could be slightly heard.

“Ronnie,” Martha said, “you remember Deputy Bennett. With her today is Special Agent Macy Crow with the FBI.”

His gaze narrowed as he searched Macy’s face.

“Good to meet you, sir.” Macy took his cool hand and shook it. After the HNR, most of the hospital staff had been great, but there were a few doctors and a physical therapist who had treated her like a potted plant. It was a life lesson that would forever change how she treated the injured. They were crippled, but damn sure not pathetic.

Mr. Roberson’s fingers flickered as he tried to squeeze her hand in response.

“Sheriff Nevada requested an FBI agent to investigate a different matter. I happened to be along with Deputy Bennett when we received your call.”

The fingers twitched.

Macy directed her question to the Robersons. “When did you last see Debbie?”

“It’s been a week,” Martha said. “She’s good about coming by, but sometimes all this here gets to be too much. She and her dad are very close and it’s hard. Last week she was upset, so I told her to take a break and not visit for a couple of weeks. She didn’t like the idea of that, but I insisted.” Martha looked to her husband. “She was supposed to call every day, but I haven’t spoken to her since Friday night.”

“No second-guessing, Mrs. Roberson,” Macy said. “That’s only going to chew you up inside.”

The older woman dug a tissue from her pocket and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “You’re right.”

“Was there anyone in her life who was a problem for her? Threats, unwanted gifts, visits that felt more like stalking?”

“I’ve been thinking about that all night. And I remember her saying she thought she saw a man outside her house one night a few weeks ago.”

“Did she recognize who it was?” Macy asked.

“No. She said he was wearing a dark hoodie and his face was shadowed. He had what looked like a notebook in his hand.”

Some killers stalked their victims before they committed their crimes. In some cases they spent weeks or even months gathering information about habits, patterns, and schedules. “Did she ever see him again?”

“If she did, she didn’t tell me.”

Bennett shifted her stance. “She never called in a report to my office.”

Maybe the man on the street corner was no one. And if it had been the man who took her, he might have been spooked after being spotted. Or maybe he was more careful with his reconnaissance.

“Debbie was also dating a new guy. She wouldn’t tell me his name so I wouldn’t make a big thing of it. She’s been through a lot with her divorce. Ronnie and me just want her to be happy.”

“That’s normal for a parent to want the best for their child, Mr. and Mrs. Roberson,” Macy said. “When did she go on this date?”

“A few weeks ago, I guess.”

“Did she know Rafe Younger?” Macy asked.

Martha frowned. “Rafe and she were a passing thing. I think the two were both on the rebound and lonely. She moved on from Rafe, and I’m glad.”

“Why?”

“He can’t hold a job. And he likes to drink. Not a good combination.”

“What do you know about Rafe?” Macy asked.

“He worked with Debbie at the assisted living place.”

“And he lives nearby?” Macy asked.

“Last I heard, he was living in a tiny place just west of here. Do you think Rafe took Debbie?”

“He was seen at Lucky’s on Saturday the same time Debbie was, but so far that’s all I have. They simply could have bumped into each other. What about handymen? Cable guy? Delivery man?”