Her Last Word(18)

All the men in the lineup had repeated the phrase, and none of the voices had resonated. The cops had been frustrated, and her aunt had been furious. They’d all pressured her to listen to the voices again. She had. But she couldn’t identify the abductor.

Now she approached the front guard station and showed her ID, which she was required to leave with the guard. Her purse and phone weren’t permitted in the building and remained locked in her car.

She’d done her homework on Randy since she’d begun work on this project. He’d had a string of crimes in the interim since Gina died, and his last three-year stint in prison had ended in early January. Less than six weeks later, he’d obtained a knife and went into a convenience store to steal cash to fuel his meth habit. Instead, the female clerk confronted him, screaming for him to leave. Without hesitation, he’d stabbed the blade into her belly twice, severing an artery. The hemorrhaging put the clerk in a coma, and though the ER docs had stabilized her, she died a week later. Randy was facing capital murder charges, and the Commonwealth of Virginia still had the death penalty.

“Who’re you here to see?” the guard asked.

“Randy Hayward,” she said.

“Does he know you’re coming?”

“Yes. He called me this morning.”

Dark eyebrows rose. “You his public defender?”

“No. I’m here to talk to him about an old case.”

The guard shook his head. “I’ll let ’em know you’re here. Can’t make promises he’ll see you. What’s the name?”

“Kaitlin Roe.” She wondered what had changed since she’d first started calling him. Had he heard about Jennifer?

To the left was a room where the families met with the bail bondsman. Three women, one with a baby, waited their turn to post bail.

“Ms. Roe,” the guard said. “Follow the signs to the visitor’s room.”

“Thank you.” She crossed the carpeted floor to double doors. Following the signs, she made her way to the room.

The air smelled stale and the walls seemed to close in. The doors on the other side of the thick glass opened. A muscular man was escorted to the seat on the other side, and he made no attempt to hide his curiosity as he sat. Her memories of Randy Hayward were of a wiry younger man of twenty-one. His neck was thick with muscles and his skin covered in tattoos.

If at twenty-one his eyes projected juvenile insolence, at thirty-five his gaze telegraphed the cold calculation of a man who’d spent much of his adult life in prison.

She searched his eyes, expecting some flicker of recognition, and when she didn’t see any, she was relieved.

Then he winked and picked up his phone. She lifted the receiver to her ear.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

“Randy, it’s been a long time.”

He leaned back, his gaze drinking her in. “I got to say, girl, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Girl. His pet name for her. Charming until he confessed he couldn’t remember names too well and called all females girl.

He lowered his gaze to her breasts. He grunted. “You sure know how to break up the daily routine.”

Revulsion slithered over her. “I came to talk to you about Gina Mason.”

“Who?” He held her gaze.

“Gina Mason. You remember. She vanished fourteen years ago.” And then she caught herself. The con was conning her.

He ran his tongue over his lips. “Right. Gina. The cops were sure I’d killed her. Boy, did they ever want to find her. They had a posse full of cops on the hunt, but they couldn’t prove anything. You know better than anyone. You had your chance to identify me, and you didn’t.” He made a sucking sound. “What ol’ Randy gave you was pretty special, wasn’t it? Popped your sweet cherry and made you his woman.”

She separated further from her rage and self-recriminations. Stupid choices could not be taken back. What mattered was now. “I’m making a podcast about her. I’m hoping she can finally be found.”

He narrowed his eyes, assessing her. “I’d forgotten all about her. I’d have thought they’d have found her by now.”

“She’s still missing. But you know all this, otherwise why call me?”

“Why do you want to find her? I always thought you were a little jealous of her. What was it you called her?”

Goody-Two-Shoes. “I don’t remember.”

His eyes never left her. “I hear Mrs. Mason died.”

Kaitlin and her aunt had talked about the podcast in her final days. She’d been worried about her aunt’s reaction and had been pleased when she’d given her approval. “Eight weeks ago.”

“Mrs. Mason was my mom’s friend. They played tennis together. I truly liked her. She was always nice to me. Maybe I should have met with her before I got locked up again. I could have shared a few secrets.”

“What kind of secrets?” Kaitlin asked, even knowing he would lie.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. What kind of secrets do you think I have?”

“You tell me.”

“I know where she is,” he said, grinning.

Everyone assumed Gina had died long ago, but no one really knew. However, the surety humming under his statement took her aback. “Randy, no one knows what happened to her. You said so yourself.”