Sidetracked (Page 18)

Duke slumps in his seat, a look of regret crossing his face. He’s trained to ask about the suspicious answers. She’s definitely hiding something, but I’m not sure what.

Donny walks out, his phone to his ear, making the calls we need.

“Why’d you leave Delaney Grove?” I ask her.

No surprise flickers in her eyes, but her back stiffens. Laurel’s hand clutches hers tighter.

She definitely knows something, and I’ll bet Laurel knows a piece of the puzzle too.

“I got a divorce, decided to change my world for the better. Delaney Grove isn’t as grand as it seems.”

Craig gave me all the info on her, and I’m looking at it on my phone now.

“You were married to Antonio Gonzalez, correct?”

She nods curtly, a coldness washing over her eyes.

“He still lives in Delaney Grove,” I go on.

Duke is watching me, a confused expression on his face.

“Why’d you come here instead of the police station?” I ask her. “The local PD is who broadcasted that they needed the information on Ferguson.”

“You should call him the monster,” Laurel interjects, surprising me as her eyes darken.

There’s a fury there. A dark, deeply laced fury. There’s not an ounce of fear in her eyes, just determined hatred so out of character for an abused child. The bruises on her arms and face and neck suggest he wasn’t gentle about his ways with her.

Has she even been examined yet?

Lindy ignores my question, but I already know the answer. He sent her here.

“Has she seen a doctor?” I ask Lindy, changing my line of questioning.

“We’re going to see one today.”

She doesn’t say more.

“How severe was she injured?”

“Bad enough to leave scars on her soul, but not to the extent it could have been. If you know what I mean, Agent.”

He hasn’t raped her. She’s too young. But he’s forced her to do other things, and that’s bad enough.

Lindy speaks like a victim herself, as though she understand the trauma on a different level. The unsub knew this, because that couldn’t be a coincidence.

She knows him. And she’s apparently for whatever crusade he’s on. I won’t get an ounce of information out of her that tells me who he is. Whatever happened affected more than just the unsub.

But why not tell me what happened?

What the fucking hell is going on in Delaney Grove?

“Ms. May, I know this is difficult, but can you at least tell me what led to you leaving Delaney Grove? Maybe something that affected more than just you?”

Her eyes shift, and a calmness comes over her.

“I left to start anew, Agent. If you want to know about Delaney Grove, maybe you should visit it.”

So he asked her not to tell. She spoke with him. There’s no doubt about that.

He saved the child. The child feels safe because he’s the dark knight that slayed the monster who has haunted her for months, ever since her disappearance. Our unsub handed her over to this woman, who he swore would keep her safe. She trusted him. She was cared for by Lindy, and the bond formed instantly.

That much makes sense.

They both owe him their silence for a reason. They’ll never talk. And I’m not in the business of bullying victims who’ve suffered enough. I’ll find out another way.

Donny walks back in, and I look over at him as he nods.

“Laurel is yours,” I say to Lindy.

“Paperwork. I want it in writing.”

He coached her on this. Told her to make sure she got custody by leveraging information.

Unreal.

We had him all wrong.

There won’t be animal cruelty in his past. He’ll have been someone gentle, possibly naïve and trusting—too trusting. Trusting enough to have been someone’s victim.

Instead of it shattering him; he came back for cold vengeance. But why target so many? What did they fucking do?

Donny walks out again, going to get something in writing. Duke taps his pen impatiently, his knee bouncing under the table. Across from him, Laurel whispers something into Lindy’s ear. Lindy presses a kiss to the child’s forehead.

I watch, fascinated by the fact Laurel doesn’t seem appalled by the affection. An instant maternal bond has been brought forth by two victims bonding with a killer. A killer they feel slays the monsters of their nightmares.

A killer who won’t stop.

They don’t realize how dangerous this guy will become. Revenge killers have no limitations on who dies. The smallest of infractions is a death sentence. They take justice into their hands, become judge, jury, and executioner, becoming too immortal in their own minds.

Donny returns, a paper in his hand. He hands it to Lindy, and she reads it carefully, searching for any sort of a trick.

I take the paper and sign it. “This is me calling this the truth,” I explain, watching her gauge me.

She must trust whatever she sees in my eyes, because she pulls a piece of paper from her purse and hands it to me. Duke stands and comes to read it over my shoulder.

It’s a map to the burial ground, written in blood with a calligraphy penmanship, with most likely a calligraphy pen to disguise the unsub’s handwriting. He knows calligraphy?

So organized it’s eerie.

How long has he been preparing for every possible outcome?

Signed in blood is one name—Kenneth Ferguson. Only it’s not in calligraphy. It’s still signed in blood, written with most likely his finger. The strokes are shaky, as though he was trembling when the unsub made him sign this with his own blood.

That’s a level of cold that had us profiling him as a sadist.

There’s an x marking so many graves, the names of each child written in calligraphy. The only structure on the map appears to be a shed of some sort. The graves are all around it. The map goes from his home, the road names marking each turn to take. He went and visited them. The sick fuck knew exactly where he’d buried each and every child.

Sixty-nine photos. Seventy nails.

Those words come back to me, reminding me they were spoken.

I dart out of the room, leaving Duke behind to deal with the murders that have him sagging to a chair in disbelief.

I grab the page Duke left in the office, one listing all the children’s names. Our people must have run facial recognition against all the kids in the system. After being runaways, their names and photos are reported.

There’s a list of names for each photo. Sixty-nine names.

The same names and ages are written on the photos themselves.

Only one is not listed.

Hadley’s.

He spared her the indignity of our team seeing her photos next to these. He sent Lindy here instead of to the police. He knew we’d take it more personally, knew there was a stronger chance of Lindy getting custody of Laurel.

He definitely feels a kinship with Hadley, and could possibly want to see her reaction. Hadley doesn’t answer, so I tell all that to her voicemail, hoping she hears it soon.

Then I head into the breakroom where Lana is drinking a coke, kicked back with her feet crossed at the ankles as she stares at the TV. I lean against the doorjamb, studying her easy grin.

She has no idea at how sick the world is. I hate that I can’t take her home right now. Hate that this got more complicated and now I need to stay. She’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.

So much for spending some time in bed apologizing even more.

Chapter 13

Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes.

—Confucius

LANA

Logan is gone for a little while when I suddenly see Lindy walk in front of the breakroom with Laurel. I guess she was watching the news closely, ready to follow through with what I told her to do.

Lindy’s eyes widen in shock when she sees me, and I wink, holding my finger over my lips as the universal shhhh sign, while using my other hand to gesture to my visitor’s badge.

She masks her surprise immediately, and Laurel grins at me, giving me a small wave. I get a little worried when I see Hadley suddenly approach them, looking in at me.

Laurel diverts her attention to Hadley, as Hadley narrows her eyes at me. “Can I help you?” she asks.

A guy walks up, and he gestures to Laurel and Lindy. “They have information on the Ferguson case. I escorted them up, but I can’t find SSA Bennett.”

My stomach flips just hearing his name. I hope he doesn’t let me down. My instructions were for Lindy to seek out his team, but not by name. He’ll get her custody of Laurel if he’s the man I think he is, without treating her like a criminal for being linked to me—the monster I hide from him.

“I’ll take them to conference three,” Hadley tells him, eyeing me suspiciously again. Laurel glances at me one last time, but Lindy remains a face of stone, carrying out her part perfectly.

Laurel thinks I’m an angel. She probably thinks no one else can see me. In her eyes, I’m keeping a close watch on her, making sure she stays safe, just as I promised.

She’s clean now. She’s also wearing new clothes that Lindy must have picked up for her on the way here.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I hear a familiar voice ask. Craig? Is his name Craig?

I think so.

I don’t hear anything after that, because they get too far away. Instead, I feign interest in the TV, drinking the soda I bought from the vending machine in here.