Vanished

“But if the person doesn’t want money, what…” All the color drained from Neil’s face. He collapsed back against the desk behind him and clutched its edge to keep himself upright. Tears sprang to his eyes.

J.T. grasped his son’s shoulders and forced Neil to look him in the eye. “Nothing is going to happen to Ashley. I will bring her home alive and safe. I won’t lie to you and I won’t mince words with you. I think some felon from my past has taken Ashley to get back at me.”

“Then she could be dead,” Neil said in a raw whisper.

“No!” J.T. pulled away and placed his fist over his heart. “I would know in here. She’s alive.”

As J.T. talked with Neil in a low voice, their heads bowed in prayer, Madison moved to Colin’s side. The emotional impact from the brief encounter between father and son left her reeling.

“Okay?”

The reverend’s question forced her to acknowledge what this case was doing to her. “No, I’m having a hard time distancing myself from this one. I wanted to come to Crystal Springs to help in the search for Ashley, but maybe I shouldn’t have.” The constriction in her chest rose into her throat. “His pain—it must be unbearable.” She twisted toward Colin. “If I’m having this much trouble keeping my personal feelings under control, how in the world is J.T. going to manage to keep his professional perspective?”

“One moment at a time. That’s all he can do. He knows God is with him and will take the burden from his shoulders. They will face it as one.” Colin took her hands. “The Lord has already eased J.T.’s load. He brought you here to help. You two worked well together last year.”

Madison glanced over at J.T. and saw him put an arm around his son’s shoulder. She prayed the reverend was right. A little girl’s life hung in the balance.

THREE

Day one, 6:00 a.m.: Ashley missing eleven and a half hours

Wisps of fog fingered their way through the trees, reaching toward the lake like claws digging at the earth. J.T. stood at his back gate, his skin clammy from the cool, damp spring air. The searchers had received their instructions and Ashley’s denim jacket for the dogs to get her scent. The teams had begun to move forward from his property line through the woods because the trail from the swing set led to the back gate. That only confirmed in J.T.’s mind he was on the right track.

A handler from Central City, a young police officer J.T. had worked with before, held Ashley’s jacket up to his German shepherd. After a few sniffs, his dog took off to the right into the forest.

J.T. hurried after the dog and his handler. The German shepherd stopped at the base of an elm and smelled its trunk. In the distance J.T. heard another dog bark.

Although he knew this wasn’t a viable lead, J.T. checked the area around the tree just to be sure. “Dead end. Ashley often comes out here and climbs this tree. She’s been wanting me to build her a fort in—” The rest of the words couldn’t get past the knot lodged in J.T.’s throat. He might never get the opportunity to build that fort he’d kept putting off. If only he had another chance…

Day one, 6:30 a.m.: Ashley missing twelve hours

Madison rang the Goldsmiths’ doorbell, scanned J.T.’s neighborhood. A white Escort sat in the neighbors’ driveway. People headed toward the side street where the volunteers were signing in. The barricade in front of J.T.’s house still stood, proclaiming a crime had been committed. Several reporters milled about, looking for people to interview. Thankfully she’d been able to evade them.

Behind her she heard the door open and turned toward an older man. She showed him her FBI badge. “I would like to talk to Mrs. Goldsmith.”

“I was just about to call the sheriff.”

“Why?”

“Ruth remembered some more about that car she saw pulling out of the side street yesterday evening.” He stood to the side to allow her into his house.

A muscular woman, medium height, came into the foyer from what looked like the living room. She stuck out her hand.

Madison shook it, noticing the scent of vanilla permeating the house. “What did you remember about the car?”

“I’ve been baking sugar cookies. I do that when I need to think.” Ruth turned back into the room. “Come in and have some coffee.”

Madison glanced at her watch. Minutes ticked by faster than she wanted. The longer Ashley was missing, the harder it would be to find her—alive. That thought prompted her to say, “I can’t, but thanks for the offer. I have a lot of people to interview this morning.” She took several steps into the room. “What do you remember, Mrs. Goldsmith?”

“Ruth. The color was definitely a metallic blue, not gray as I thought last night.”

Madison nodded, remembering that from the report she’d read. She bit down on the inside of her cheek as Ruth sat again on the couch and brought her mug to her lips.

“The thing is I’m almost positive the first three numbers of the license were five, one, three.”

“How positive?” Madison wrote the numbers down on her pad, trying not to get too excited.

Ruth leaned forward and set her mug on a magazine. Then she sat back straight and looked right at Madison. “Positive. I was thinking those numbers were today’s date. Well, yesterday I was thinking tomorrow’s date.”

“Do you recall the make of the car?”

“Big. I’m not good with the different kinds of cars.”

“Yep, Ruth thinks a car is either big or small.” Mr. Goldsmith took the seat next to her on the couch and patted her knee.

“Anything else? Did you recognize who was driving?”

“Nope. The windows were tinted dark. Couldn’t see too well inside and besides, whoever was driving sped away.”

“Speeding? You didn’t say anything about that last night.”

“All I could think about last night was that Ashley was missing. That poor child. I’ve got to fix something for J.T.’s family to eat. They will need to eat during this ordeal.”

“Yes, ma’am. They will.” Madison finished putting the information down on her pad. “Is that all? You might close your eyes…” When the woman did, Madison continued, “…and try to picture the car driving away.”

Ruth popped one eye open. “You mean speeding away.”

“Yes.”

The fiftysomething woman closed both eyes again. An almost tranquil expression descended on her lined face. Suddenly she looked right at Madison. “Nope. Nothing, but if I remember anything else, I’ll give you a call.”

Madison removed one of her cards and jotted down her cell number. “You can reach me here day or night.”

The second Madison stepped out onto the Goldsmiths’ front porch and the door closed behind her, she punched in the sheriff’s number. When the deputy on duty at the office answered, she gave him the description of the car with the partial Illinois license plate number. “It’s important we find the driver. The car was seen speeding away from the area about the time of the abduction.”

Day one, 6:30 a.m.: Ashley missing twelve hours

As J.T. made his way through the woods toward the back gate with the K-9 police officer and his German shepherd, a dog’s bark echoed through the trees repeatedly.

“We found something,” a searcher shouted.

J.T. glanced in the direction and hurried his steps as a crime scene tech reached the dog who sat next to his handler. After the tech took a photograph, J.T. saw him pick up Ashley’s pink socks with butterflies and put them into a plastic bag. His heart slowed to a painful throb. Then the young man removed a wet, pale pink T-shirt from the ground behind a bush.

For a few seconds everything came to a standstill for J.T. The woods swam before his eyes and he staggered a couple of steps.

Focus!

He drew in a breath that didn’t fill his lungs. Again he inhaled the moisture-rich air until finally he didn’t feel so light-headed. Careful where he walked, J.T. made his way toward the crime-scene tech who now was bagging his daughter’s blue jeans with butterflies around the hem. Sweat popped out on J.T.’s forehead and seemed instantly to drench him as he spied Ashley’s outer clothing in separate evidence bags lined up on the ground. That sight nearly brought him to his knees.