Stop Me (Last Stand #2)(4)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Attention?” Skye finished.

“That and recognition, for starters.” Jasmine stared at the box. He’d felt closer than he’d been in the sixteen years since he’d stood in her living room, talking to Kimberly. Too close. It made her queasy, but she retraced the individual letters he’d written, forcing her subconscious to go where it refused. For Kimberly.

“So you think there are others?” Skye asked.

The scraggly beard. The bottle-green eyes. The bladelike nose. The baggy, dirty clothes…

“Jasmine?” Skye prompted when she didn’t answer.

It was no use. The vision was gone, leaving her with only the memory of it.

“What?” she said.

“Do you think he’s kidnapped other children?”

Covering her eyes with a shaky hand, Jasmine took a deep breath. “Don’t you?”

“Killers don’t kill everyone they meet. It could be that he’s held Kimberly captive all these years and not taken anyone else. Maybe he wanted a daughter, someone to love him unconditionally, and she filled that need.”

Gooseflesh rose on Jasmine’s arms. “It had nothing to do with love.” And he wasn’t satisfied, probably could never be satisfied, or why would he need her or anyone else to stop him?

“He might’ve let her go at some point,” Skye reasoned. “But that doesn’t mean she would’ve come home.”

“Of course it doesn’t. She was eight when she went missing,” Jasmine said.

“Abducted children often begin to feel an attachment to their abductor, to relate and adjust and go on living as if they never had another life.”

“Maybe he kept her with him until she grew up and now she’s out there…somewhere.”

A version of her former self but not the same person, Jasmine nearly added, but she couldn’t say that aloud. If she ever had the good fortune to find her sister, that was something she’d think about when and if the time came.

“Are you going to order a DNA test to see if the blood on that note is similar to yours?” Skye asked.

“Of course. I’ll use the private lab in L.A. that did so well with the evidence in the Wrigley case.” She’d also have a fingerprint specialist search for latent prints.

She doubted they’d get anything from the cardboard box. Too many people had touched it in the process of mailing. And, after three or four days in transit, any prints the sender might’ve left would’ve soaked in too much to be recovered even with chemicals. The tape or the paper itself might give them more….

“Why not let the police handle it via their own lab? You were living in Cleveland when Kimberly was taken. Doesn’t that give them jurisdiction?”

“I don’t want to turn what I have over to them.”

“Why not?”

“Because the detective who was in charge of the initial investigation is still on the force.” Jasmine stood and went to the window, where she gazed out at the parking lot two stories below. Old trucks, economy cars and an occasional SUV sat beneath the heavy floodlights attached to the building. Her condo wasn’t located in one of the more affluent suburbs of Sacramento. She, Skye and Sheridan took only as much from the charity as they needed to survive, which didn’t allow for an expensive home. But it wasn’t one of the worst neighborhoods, either. She felt safe here, or as safe as she could feel, considering that her work involved opposing so many dangerous people.

“How do you know?”

“I checked earlier today.”

“You don’t think he’s capable of handling the investigation?”

“My father almost cost the man his job over that ruined tire track evidence.”

Ripping a paper towel from the holder at her elbow, Jasmine dabbed at the perspiration that’d broken out on her forehead. “I don’t think he’ll want to reopen the case.”

“Maybe you could talk his captain into assigning it to someone else.”

“No, Captain Jones stood by his detective the last time. I’m sure he’ll do it again. And I refuse to work with Castillo.” Jasmine couldn’t abide the thought of relinquishing key evidence to someone she didn’t consider competent. It wasn’t as if the Cleveland police would be open and forthcoming with her. They knew her father’s reputation, the trouble he’d caused. Besides, after working in several capacities on numerous criminal investigations, she felt she was better equipped to do justice by her sister than anyone else. She was more motivated to resolve the kidnapping than an outsider could ever be.

“What about a private investigator? What about getting Jonathan involved?

You know how good he is.”

“I’ll handle this one myself.”

“How?”

“I’m going to Louisiana.”

These words were met with shocked silence. Then Skye said, “But all you have to go on is a cancellation stamp!”

No, she had more than that. She had his image in her mind, the one she’d conjured out of nowhere when she touched the package. She’d meet with a sketch artist, start circulating a flyer, promise a reward—anything she had to do. Maybe once the shock wore off and she was stronger, she could even plumb the chilling connection she’d felt so briefly.

That strange vision had convinced her of one thing. The man with the beard knew she could stop him. And that was exactly what she intended to do.

Even if it was too late for Kimberly.

Chapter 2

Jasmine had never been to Louisiana. She’d donated money to the recovery effort after Hurricane Katrina and felt terrible about the damage that remained, but only in a general sense. She couldn’t mourn specific losses like someone who’d been familiar with the area as it was before. It was too dark outside to see much, anyway.

She sat in the backseat of the taxi she’d hired to shuttle her from the airport to the hotel, fidgeting with her purse and wondering if she’d been crazy to come here.

She knew next to nothing about New Orleans, had no contacts in this part of the country. How would she ever find the man she was looking for?

A steady pounding behind her eyes warned of an escalating headache. The plane had been cramped and overheated and the flight had cost her a full day, dumping her halfway across the country after dinnertime. While in the air, she’d been offered only a drink and a small bag of peanuts. She was famished and exhausted. She’d been up all night carefully packaging the box, bracelet and note, and making travel plans that included a stop in Los Angeles so she could hand-deliver those items to the lab, but she hadn’t been able to sleep on the long flight. Far too restless, she’d kept going over the day Kimberly had gone missing, hoping to remember something new or different that might help her now.