She Can Hide (She Can #4)(27)



Ethan nodded. “I reviewed all the school’s security tapes. Unfortunately, the cameras don’t cover the entire parking lot, only the building exits, the main halls, and a few other strategic spots. We have footage of Abby leaving the building along with kids and teachers. I’m going to ask you both to review a few screenshots and see if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”

Abby rearranged her face into a composed mask. Too composed. Why wasn’t she freaking out? Wouldn’t most women be crying if they’d thought they might have been raped?

She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. She might be reining in her emotions, but Ethan could see the distress deep in her eyes. “Can I use this computer? I need to check on the status of an inmate at Greenville.”

“Oooo-kay,” Ethan said, his turn to be stunned. “Want to tell us what’s going on?”

She gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Her face was bloodless, the skin on her face stretched tight. “After.”

Ethan opened the laptop, booted it up, and established a secure Internet connection. Brooke was on her feet again and pacing the tiny strip of floor behind her chair. He slid the computer across the table, turning it to face Abby. Then he got up and walked around to look over her shoulder as she pulled up the website for the Victim Information and Notification Everyday system, otherwise known as VINE, which was a nationwide database to help victims keep tabs on prison inmates. She typed into a few blanks. Her speed with the site suggested practice. She didn’t have to look up any of the inmate information either.

Abby pressed SEND. She interlocked her fingers while the computer chugged. Her knuckles paled under the pressure.

INMATE NOT FOUND.

“No. It has to be a mistake,” she whispered to herself. She typed in the number again.

INMATE NOT FOUND.

The air whooshed out of her in one huge exhale. Her face whitened, and her brown eyes went dark with shock. Ethan pulled her chair away from the table and put a hand between her shoulder blades. He guided her head down. “Breathe.”

“It can’t be right. There has to be a mistake.” She bent forward, hanging her face in front of her knees. “He had three more years before he was even eligible for parole.”

The chief leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. Brooke stared in alarmed silence. Ethan kept his hand on Abby’s back. Her spine trembled under his palm. He wanted to wrap his arms around her but doubted she could handle it.

He moved his hand in a gentle circle. “Who, Abby? Who were you looking for?”

“Zeke Faulkner. The man who kidnapped me three years ago.” Abby spoke to the carpet.

Ethan’s heart dropped into his gut. He barely held back the what? that was screaming through his head.

Abby sat up. “I met Faulkner at my gym. He asked me out, but I said no. There was something creepy about him. I came home from work one night. He was waiting in the bedroom closet. I didn’t see his face, but I knew it was him. He wore very distinctive cologne, and I recognized his voice. He knocked me out. When I woke up, I was in a hole in the ground. It turned out to be an abandoned well.”

“How long did he keep you?” And what did he do to her while he had her prisoner? Ethan dropped his hand to her forearm. He needed to keep touching her, to maintain a connection. Without it he feared she’d withdraw again. She didn’t protest.

“Faulkner never came back. The school reported me missing when I didn’t show up for work. Several people had seen him following me around the gym. When the police started looking for him, they found out he was already in jail. He’d been picked up after a bar fight the same night he grabbed me. They didn’t find me for ten days. The farm was in the Pine Barrens. Luckily, there was a small amount of water in the bottom of the well or I would have dehydrated.”

“Faulkner went to prison?” Ethan asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was distant and disconnected. “They found my hair in his trunk, and he’d left DNA on a cigarette butt near the window he used to gain entry into my house. Faulkner pled not guilty, but he didn’t take the stand. With all the physical evidence, the trial was short, and he was sentenced to eight years. But the prosecutor told me he wouldn’t likely get parole until he’d served at least five.”

“Eight years for kidnapping?” Ethan said through clenched molars. “That’s ridiculous.” But Ethan knew the sentences for violent crimes were often horrifyingly short due to prison overcrowding, tight budgets, and other lame, horseshit-type reasons.

“I’ll double-check with the warden.” The chief stood. “Brooke, can you come with me? Ethan, get that slideshow going.”

Brooke followed the chief out of the conference room.

Ethan flexed his jaw, which ached from grinding his teeth. “While we’re waiting for the chief, I’d like you to watch some video segments to see if there’s anyone at the school who shouldn’t be there.”

“All right.” Abby brought her knees up to her chin and hugged her shins. Her gray skirt was long enough to cover her to the ankles of her black leather boots. Her brown eyes, usually warm, were desolate and vulnerable.

“Can you think of anyone else who has a grudge against you? Anyone else who would want to hurt you?”

A slight hesitation. “No.” She was still hiding something. How bad could it be? She’d already told them a horrific story. What could possibly be worse than that? Ethan’s stomach soured. She’d been kidnapped three years ago, and someone had tried to kill her last Friday. The sky was the limit on surprises after those events.

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