Stalked

“Yeah.” Bill glanced from Evelyn to Sophia as they stood cramped together on the small stoop in front of his house. “What now? You haven’t found her, have you?”

“Don’t you want us to?” Evelyn asked, surprised by the tone of the question.

Bill stepped back, held the door open. “Maybe she’s better off if you don’t. I’m telling you, Haley ran away. Linda’s looking for attention, but my daughter was just trying to escape.”

“You think she ran away?” Evelyn prompted as she slid sideways past Bill and stepped through the doorway, taking in the tidy entryway tracked through with fresh mud.

They didn’t have any snow, but the ground was still near frozen. Where had Bill Cooke gone to get mud all over his boots?

“Yeah, and I’ve told that to Detective Lopez here a hundred times. Who are you? New to the police force? Don’t you people share your notes? No wonder you can’t find Haley.”

Ignoring the dig, Evelyn held out a hand as Bill stepped farther back. Sophia joined them inside, closing the heavier door behind them and shutting out the fierce wind. It may have been unusually warm over the past month, but it was still January.

“Special Agent Evelyn Baine. I’m consulting from the FBI on your daughter’s case.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Bill wrapped two work-roughened hands around hers and squeezed; she tried to remember what he did for a living.

“I appreciate the thought, Agent Baine. But my daughter is fine.”

“Have you heard from her?” Sophia asked, stepping forward slowly, and making Bill drop Evelyn’s hand and move back. Instinct when someone stepped into your personal space, and a smart way for Sophia to get farther into the house.

She’d told Evelyn that he’d never invited her inside before, instead always insisting on meeting at the police station. Evelyn had wanted to do this interview spontaneously, hoping it would change things, but she was still surprised he’d invited them in so easily. If he’d ever had Haley hidden here, it suggested he didn’t now.

“No, I haven’t heard from my daughter. And I doubt I will. At least not until she’s eighteen and she can finally be free of her mother and Linda’s new husband.” He spat out “husband” as if it was a dirty word.

Sophia stepped forward again, but this time, Bill didn’t move, just crossed his arms and stared back at her. The aggression in his eyes was barely concealed by the exasperation.

“Why are you so convinced she ran away?”

“We’ve been through this. Haley hated living in that house. Linda’s new husband is a real jerk. He resents having to deal with a teenager, treated Haley like crap.”

“How so?” Evelyn asked, hoping he’d be more willing to go through the details again if she was the one asking, instead of Sophia.

He studied her, and she could see him cataloging the details: long, dark hair, carefully knotted into a bun; light green eyes from her mother that always stood out against light brown skin, which had come from her father; prim black suit, cut too large to conceal her weapon, that made her look even smaller than she already was.

She suspected he’d be like a lot of suspects and translate “small” into “not a threat.” If he was responsible for Haley’s disappearance, though, she vowed to make him regret it.

“Haley never told me any specifics. But she made all these offhand remarks about Pete Varner that made me think...” He shuffled his feet, drawing Evelyn’s attention back to the mud on his boots, an odd contrast to the clean, tidy house.

At least what she could see of the house. The three of them were jammed into the entryway, just far enough back that Evelyn could peer into a small living room. Everything looked dust and knickknack free, but nothing had much personality. Just a dark, matched set of furniture and a big-screen TV, probably purchased after the divorce.

She wondered how much of Bill’s animosity had justification, and how much was just resentment toward his family for moving on. Then again, all she knew about Linda’s new husband, Pete Varner, was what was in the background checks Sophia had completed. Nothing had stood out, other than his job installing vending machines. A job that took him to a lot of high schools, including Haley’s. Maybe he’d seen the daughter before he’d married the mother.

“You think there was sexual abuse?” Evelyn cut straight to the point, watching Bill carefully.

His head jerked backward at the question, and he shook his head. “No, not... No. I don’t think so.”

“So what kind of abuse? Does Pete hit her?” Evelyn pressed.

“I—I don’t know. Maybe.” Bill fidgeted. “What I know is she was unhappy. What I know is she hated it there. She ran away.” He yanked his wrist up, stared at his watch, then said, “I’ve got to be somewhere soon. Call next time and I’ll come to the station.”

“This could help us locate Haley,” Evelyn started.

“You’re not asking me anything I haven’t already told Detective Lopez,” Bill responded. “And here’s the thing—I know Haley ran away. I’m not going to help you bring her back to her crazy mother and that asshole she married.”

“What if she didn’t run away?” Evelyn pushed, even as Bill got in her personal space, practically herding her out the door. “What if you’re wrong?”

She didn’t move, just tilted her head back so she could look up at Bill, who had almost a foot on her. Sophia stayed right beside her.

“I’m sure—”

“You haven’t heard from her,” Evelyn reminded him. “Which means there’s a chance someone took her. Even if there’s only a small possibility she’s in trouble, don’t you want to make sure she’s okay?”

Something shifted in Bill’s eyes, but Evelyn couldn’t be certain what she’d seen before he blinked and it was gone.

“That didn’t happen,” Bill insisted, and this time, he actually put his hand on her arm, pushing her backward. “I want you to leave.”

Evelyn pulled free of his grasp, and planted her feet farther apart. “Okay.” She peeled off a card and handed it to him. “But the FBI doesn’t usually waste their time chasing runaways. Call me if you think of anything that might help.”

She turned and headed for the door, but not before she saw him frown down at her card.

Once they were back in Sophia’s police car, Evelyn asked, “What does Bill Cooke do for a living?”

“He’s a construction foreman. Why?”

Evelyn nodded. That might explain the mud on his boots, although she still found it odd that he’d track mud through his ultraclean house to answer the door for them. Especially since he hadn’t wanted them there. But maybe he hadn’t looked through the peephole before he’d opened the door. Or he’d been so anxious to deal with them and then get rid of them he wasn’t worried about the mud. “Just curious.”

Sophia jabbed her keys into the ignition, but didn’t start it up. “Okay, I have a question, too. What do you think? Is Bill Cooke lying to us? Did he take Haley?”

Evelyn frowned at the house as they sat in the driveway. She could see the curtain move at the front of the house, as though Bill was watching them. “He’s lying. I’m not sure what about—maybe the abuse claims. But he seemed genuinely surprised—and worried—when I mentioned sexual abuse. So, it’s hard to say. I don’t think he would have let us in the house if he had Haley in there. But does he know where she is?”

She sighed, wishing there was an easy answer. “Maybe. He was quick to insist he hadn’t heard from her, but when I asked if he was positive she was okay, he looked like he wasn’t sure. Still, it is odd he’s not more worried about her condition or where she might be, who she could have run off with. That could be a sign he’s not concerned because he knows the answer. His behavior was a little contradictory.”

Sophia tapped her hands on the wheel in a frustrated thump-thump-thump, and then started up the engine. “What do we need to do so you can point us in a solid direction? I’m running in circles with this case. And if Haley’s out there somewhere, I want to bring her home.”

As she pulled out of the driveway and Evelyn watched the curtain flutter back into place in Bill’s front window, Sophia added, “And if Bill’s abuse claims are legit, I want to deal with that, too.”

“Let’s talk to Linda and Pete, then,” Evelyn said. “Profiling isn’t a Magic 8 Ball. I can’t just talk to someone for ten minutes and tell you if he did it. But once I get a better handle on all the players, I should be able to help you narrow your search.”

Sophia’s phone rang, cutting off any reply she’d been about to make. She pressed the phone to her ear as she turned onto the street. “Lopez.”

There was a pause, and although Evelyn couldn’t hear whatever was being said on the other end of the call, Sophia’s suddenly furious expression told her it was bad news.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sophia said into the phone, then gave a heavy sigh and said, “Yeah, I’ll deal with it.”

She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the console, muttering, “Un-fucking-believable.”

“What is it?”

“You wanted to meet Haley’s mom?” Sophia gunned the engine. “Let’s do that now. I’ve got some things I want to say to her myself.”

“What was the call about?” Evelyn asked, bracing her elbow against the door as Sophia took the turns out of Bill Cooke’s neighborhood too fast.

“As if that TV interview wasn’t enough, someone just posted a picture of Haley’s note online.”

“What?” Evelyn gaped at her.

“You heard me,” Sophia said. “Now the whole world knows that Haley predicted someone was going to kill her. Which means all the wackos who weren’t already calling our tip line claiming to have seen her are going to start now, claiming to have killed her.”

“And it tells everyone with an internet connection that the person who grabbed Haley Cooke is probably someone she knows,” Evelyn said.

“Yep,” Sophia agreed. “Which means whoever did it knows we could be on to him. That person could be destroying evidence as we speak. And if Haley was wrong, and someone had been keeping her alive before...”

“He might worry we’re going to start focusing on people Haley knows, and that could make him act.”

“Yeah. If Haley didn’t predict her own death before, whoever leaked that note might have just caused it.”

3

“He’s lying.” Linda Varner stood in the doorway of her house, arms crossed over her chest. Her husband stood behind her, peering over her shoulder.

While Linda was an odd mixture of pissed off and frayed nerves, Pete Varner just glared suspiciously. Evelyn pegged Linda as being in her midfifties, but Pete had to be a decade younger. He had a weight lifter’s build, and his long, thin face seemed mismatched to his body. He stuck close to Linda, as though he was trying to protect her.

Still, he seemed oddly at ease. After less than thirty seconds in Linda’s presence, Evelyn felt the woman’s twitchy nerves transferring to her, but Pete was calm.

Sophia visibly tensed and Evelyn could tell she was working hard to stay composed. “Who’s lying?”

“My ex-husband,” Linda said. “He called here, made a big fuss about you visiting him. He obviously thought we sent you, which—”

“We know what that bastard said,” Pete Varner interrupted his wife.

“He’s been claiming from the start that Haley ran away from home.” Linda opened the door wide for them. “If you’d believed his lies about Haley running away and he’d prevented the police from investigating, I would have killed him.”

“I’m not sure you want to say that to a police detective,” Sophia muttered, stepping inside and adding, “This is FBI profiler Evelyn Baine. She’s consulting on your daughter’s case.”

Linda’s wide eyes darted to Evelyn and she gripped Evelyn’s outstretched hand with both of hers. In contrast to Bill Cooke’s rough, strong grip, Linda’s freezing-cold hands felt desperate and shaky.

Evelyn studied her closely, taking in the bloodshot eyes Linda had tried to disguise with heavy coats of mascara.

Pete wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, making Linda drop Evelyn’s hand.

The move was somehow both protective and aggressive, and Evelyn hid a frown. Could there be merit to Bill Cooke’s claim? Was Pete just watching out for a wife who’d been thrust into the spotlight after personal tragedy? Or was he keeping her within sight at all times to make sure she didn’t spill a secret he wanted to keep hidden?

“Did you find something?” Linda asked frantically, bringing Evelyn’s attention back to her. She clutched her husband’s arm, her fingernails biting into his skin. “Did you make a profile we can see? Of the person who took her?”

“Actually,” Sophia said, “we’re here to talk about how one or both of you is hindering our investigation, and could be hurting our chances of bringing Haley safely home.”

Evelyn tried not to grimace at the harsh tactic, especially since Haley could already be dead, but she knew how badly media leaks could damage a case.

“Wh-what?” Linda stuttered, leaning backward, even though there was nowhere to go, with her husband pressed against her back.

“Someone released a picture of the note from Haley’s notebook onto the web this afternoon,” Sophia continued, moving closer until she was practically in Linda’s face. “Between that and your little stunt on the news, you’re putting our investigation—and possibly your daughter—at risk.”

“I—I...” Linda’s face went so pale that Evelyn actually stepped forward to catch her if she fell.

Not that it would be necessary, since her husband practically had a death grip around her shoulders. He was glaring at them, but there was something else in his eyes that gave Evelyn chills.

Recognition made her breathe faster and her fists clench. She knew that look. The look of someone who felt sure he held all the power. Someone who thrived on control, usually at the expense of others.

A memory flashed through her mind, of a man who looked nothing like Pete Varner. A man who’d dated her mother, but who’d stared at ten-year-old Evelyn with a predatory intensity. A man she’d known instantly to try to avoid.

She’d done her best, which was difficult with a mother prone to passing out on the couch, surrounded by the stink of stale vodka. She’d escaped a very bad fate through pure luck and a little desperate ingenuity. If the flimsy lock she’d latched on the bathroom door hadn’t held long enough for her to climb out the window...

Evelyn’s attention shifted to Linda and she noticed the glaze over the woman’s eyes. Had she started taking medication to numb the pain of her daughter’s disappearance or had she been on painkillers before?

Anger flooded, and she knew it was directed more toward her own mother than at Linda Varner.

It must have shown on her face, because Pete suddenly snapped, “Leave her alone,” bringing Evelyn’s focus back to the conversation. “We had nothing to do with leaking the note.”

“Since you two are the only ones who had access to it before it landed in a police evidence room, I highly doubt that.” Sophia’s dark eyes filled with her own fury.

She was so angry it made Evelyn wonder if Sophia had a similar tragedy in her own past. Or maybe she’d just taken this case too much to heart, since she had young children. Either way, Evelyn and Sophia were probably both projecting too much. And it might shut Linda and Pete down, prevent them from cooperating.

“Maybe one of your cops leaked the note,” Pete said, sounding smug instead of outraged.

Evelyn put a hand on Sophia’s elbow. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. The damage was done, and Linda looked ready to faint. Besides, Evelyn had a feeling they’d get a lot more out of her if they could separate her from Pete, which she didn’t think would be happening today.

The detective glanced at her, gave her a small nod even as fury still radiated from her clenched jaw and flared nostrils, and stepped back.

“Look,” Evelyn said, trying to hide her own animosity as she addressed Linda instead of looking up at Pete. “What’s done is done. But we want you to understand there’s a reason we were keeping the note out of the media. It’s best for your daughter that we don’t share certain parts of the investigation. Going forward, you should talk to us before the media.”

“Okay,” Linda said, her voice small and quiet, tears in her eyes. “Pete just thought—”

“We thought it would help put pressure on whoever grabbed her,” Pete interrupted. “Get him to think the police were closing in on him, so he’d let her go. The media is starting to lose interest. And we’ve got to keep Haley’s face in front of people, so they keep watching for her, so someone comes forward if they see her.”

So, it had been Pete’s idea for Linda to go on the news. Evelyn wondered why he hadn’t stood beside her, the way he had for other news conferences.

Then again, if Pete didn’t want Haley coming home because he was hiding a secret, leaking the note wouldn’t really help him if she’d run away. And if a stranger had grabbed her, but the note had been about Pete, would leaking it cause her abductor to panic? Maybe not, but Evelyn didn’t have the luxury of assuming anything.

“If someone has your daughter,” Sophia said slowly and deliberately, “we don’t want that person to panic.”

Evelyn glanced up, past Linda’s wide-eyed horror, expecting to see smugness on Pete’s face, but it was wiped clean. Instead, he seemed genuinely shaken.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “I never thought—”

“We’re already running damage control,” Sophia said, holding out a hand that Linda gripped so hard Evelyn could actually see her cutting off blood flow, turning Sophia’s fingertips an unnatural white.

Sophia glanced questioningly at Evelyn, and she nodded at the detective. Linda was clearly too distraught to answer a lot of questions, and this trip had answered a few things for Evelyn already.

It told her that whatever mistakes Linda might have made, Sophia was right about one thing. Linda was desperate to get her daughter back, but she hadn’t planted the note.

Pete still looked horrified, a little pale underneath a tan that had to be from a spray bottle. But was it an act?

Beneath the distress in his eyes was something shrewd and slimy. But it didn’t mean he had anything to do with Haley’s disappearance.

From the outside, to the media, Haley was the perfect, all-American teenager and her family the new normal: divorced, one parent remarried, visitation rights for the other. To the world, family and friends were grieving and searching as hard as they could for Haley.

But up close, there was a strange dynamic in this household. And there was clear animosity between the Varners and Bill. Where did Haley fit in? How many secrets did this family have?

“We should go.” Evelyn nodded at Linda, who reluctantly released Sophia’s hand.

It was time to dig as deep as they could into the people closest to Haley, and see what they could unearth.

* * *

How the hell had his life come to this?

Quincy Palmer stared into the cracked mirror in the station’s dingy bathroom, and didn’t like what stared back at him. Sure, he looked pretty much the same on the outside. Same grooves alongside his mouth and across his forehead that had worn deeper and deeper with age. Same thick beard, just more white in it now. It was his eyes that bothered him.

He’d stopped meeting his own gaze in the mirror three months ago.

No one else seemed to have noticed the change in him. It probably said a lot about the strength of his personal relationships, and he tried to see it as a positive. If no one else could see the difference, no one would wonder what had caused it.

The bathroom door opened behind him, and Quincy looked up, nodded into the mirror at one of the newbie officers and walked out the door. Back into the buzz of the station.

Things were crazy with news of the Haley Cooke note being released to the media. What had the parents been thinking?

And what the hell had happened to Haley? The case was weird enough on its surface, but he was the only one here who knew how hard it should have been to grab Haley Cooke.

Because he’d had his eye on her for three months. He’d been watching her closely—stalking her, by the legal definition. It had been his job to make sure she didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, and if she did—say, if she showed up at the police station—it was his job to take her statement. Then to make sure that statement disappeared.

Twenty years on the job, and he’d never taken a payoff. Never taken a bribe. Never looked the other way.

And then this mess. They’d found his one weak spot, the one thing that would make him throw away twenty years of dedicated service to a job he believed in so much he’d given everything for it. Given his marriage, given his relationship with his son, given all his free time. It had become his life.

If this came out, though, it wouldn’t matter that he’d had nothing to do with Haley’s disappearance. And it really wouldn’t matter that he’d done his damnedest to find her.

Because he knew they’d make him take the fall.

* * *

“That family is hiding something,” Evelyn told Sophia as they walked into the police station.

Sophia had fumed the whole drive back, but now she just seemed dejected. “Everyone in this case is hiding something.”

“What happened? What did you learn?”

The deep voice made Evelyn jump, and when she turned, she saw Quincy Palmer rushing toward them. His pale face was flushed, blotchy red above his heavy beard.

“I don’t know,” she told Quincy, wondering if his own cases ever took him out of the station. “But my guess would be some kind of abuse. Either the father or the stepfather.”

“Really?” Sophia stopped walking, and turned to face her.

Evelyn nodded. “But honestly, with this much scrutiny on the case, with this much media attention, I doubt a seventeen-year-old girl could stay under the radar if she had just run away. I think someone made her disappear. Maybe it started with her going willingly, maybe not. Either way, at this point, chances are, we’re not looking for Haley.” At Quincy’s deep frown, she said apologetically, “You know the statistics.”

Sophia nodded, her shoulders slumping. “We’re looking for her body. I know. But I’ve learned all about this girl. Everyone I talk to loved her—her classmates, her teachers, her neighbors. They all say the same thing. Haley was nice to everyone she met. This is a sweet kid, with a bright future. I want her to beat the odds.”

“So do I,” Evelyn said. “Maybe she will.” She tried to sound upbeat, but the fact was, she’d handled too many missing-persons cases.

More than half a million people were reported missing every year in the US alone. The first twenty-four hours were crucial, the first forty-eight the most likely time to make a live recovery. After a month, the chances were practically nonexistent. Especially when the victim was a beautiful teenage girl.

It wore her down, being asked to provide profiles on case after case where the victims would probably never come home. Sometimes, all she could hope for was to bring some closure to the family left behind. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe they could really find Haley, give her back that bright future.

No matter the outcome, she vowed to help find the answers Sophia had been so desperately searching for over the past month. She didn’t care how many secrets she had to expose to do it.

Sophia and Quincy looked back at her, both solemn and serious.

“What’s next?” Sophia finally asked, her upbeat tone sounding forced.

Before Evelyn could answer, a plainclothes officer raced down the hall, her eyes bright with excitement as she skidded to a stop in front of them.

“Detective Lopez,” she panted. “We just got a note.”

When she took a breath, Sophia asked, “What sort of note? Someone else claiming to have knowledge of Haley’s—”

“No. Not a whack-job letter. This one matches the handwriting from the note you brought in yesterday.”