Crimson Lies

Chapter Eight

Roseanne

By Friday afternoon I had spent most of the week reading case files and calling various police departments to talk to homicide detectives, sheriff deputies and medical examiners until my jaw ached. I doubled up on each phone call by asking about any unreported cases of child abduction fifteen to twenty years ago, never knowing when I might catch a break.

I didn't catch a break.

I looked up and realized I was all alone in the space I usually shared with eight other agents. They'd all gone to meetings and I was left whistling Dixie. I glanced around. It was empty. No one was here.

My pulse pounded loudly in her ear.

The real reason for me being here flashed through my mind, followed by butterflies in the pit of my stomach that launched themselves into the air like vultures. The hum of the heating system and murmur of far-off voices drifted from a long way away. I climbed to my feet and eyed the desks closest to me. Moira Henderson or Felicia Barton? Henderson was Danbridge's crony so I tackled her first.

I went over and searched through the drawers. Handcuffs, ammo, staplers, post-it notes, a broken crucifix-nothing useful. There were photographs stuck to Henderson's cubicle walls-a family portrait with a couple of kids. I checked my shoulder when I heard footsteps but they disappeared behind the bang of a door. There was a stack of file folders on the left-hand side of Henderson's desk. I peeked in the first one and saw a photograph of herself and some of her personnel files. Holy crap, the woman had a file on her.

The fine hair on the nape of my neck stood taut as I heard another door being opened and closed out in the corridor. Quickly, I looked in the next file and saw background information on Edgar Meacher. Footsteps came closer and I tiptoed back to my desk, heart drilling my ribcage as Special Agent Henderson walked in the room.

The woman's suspicious gaze flicked over me but I could no more meet her eyes than I could juggle potted plants. Henderson went back to her desk and picked up the phone. Did she suspect the real reason I had been reassigned? Why have a file on Meacher?

Of course, Meacher was the sort of killer she investigated on a daily basis, so why wouldn't she have a file on Meacher?

Paranoid much?

Dark-haired Agent Barton wandered in carrying a Fed-ex box. "It's for you, Park. Mailroom checked it for suspicious substances but said it was clean. No one is trying to kill you-yet." The other agent handed it over with a smirk. I sent her a smile of thanks, but it was rejected. The woman stared at me thoughtfully. Henderson said something and Barton moved on. I shuddered. And these people were supposed to be on my side?

Thanks, SSA Hanrahan.

The box was about three-inches deep and when I opened it what I saw shocked me. Printouts of old newspaper articles about child abductions in West Virginia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia and Kentucky, dating back twenty-five years.

Who the hell knew I was looking into this stuff?

Agent Frazer had given me the idea at Monday morning's meeting, but I hadn't told anyone...except every law enforcement office I'd spoken to over the last five days. Plus anyone in the office could have overheard my inquiries. I scratched my head. Someone had done me a huge favor, I just wished I knew who it was, and their motive. I looked for return information, saw an address in DC. I'd see if I could track down a name.

I put the box on the floor to take home tonight. My whole weekend had just been shaped by some unnamed source and I wasn't sure I liked it. Leaning back in my chair I gazed at the map I'd pinned to my cubicle wall. It showed the locations where the young women were believed to have been snatched and where their bodies were found. My gaze was drawn back to the home state where I'd spent the first ten years of my life. My father's family estate, Eastborne, in Colby, West Virginia.