“UNSUB?” Sheriff Mooney said.
“Unidentified subject,” Burke clarified.
Mooney gave a shrug. “We just call ’em suspects down here.”
“All right, the suspect then. The point is, he could have hung around somewhere down the street until school was dismissed and then followed Sara Beth. He didn’t snatch her from the playground because he couldn’t. He was forced to change his M.O. His modus operandi.”
“I know what M.O. means,” Mooney snapped, momentarily losing his cool.
Abby decided she’d better jump back into the fray. “Sara Beth doesn’t share the same physical characteristics as the other two victims. She’s very petite, with curly blond hair and blue eyes.”
“What about a custody grab?” Burke asked.
Abby nodded. “It’s possible. The parents are legally separated, apparently headed for divorce court. There’s been some haggling between the lawyers about visitation.”
“You’ve interviewed both the mother and the father?” A slight emphasis on father.
“Of course,” Abby said with a frown. “Both seemed genuinely devastated by the news, but as we all know, emotions can be faked.”
“Yes,” Burke said. “That’s all too true, I’m afraid.” Again his gaze met Abby’s. She suppressed a sudden desire to avert her eyes, as if he could somehow see inside her. All the way to her soul, maybe.
“Two children missing within two days of each other,” he mused. “Another one disappeared ten years ago. All five years old. All went to the same school. Those are more than just vague similarities.”
“I realize that,” Abby said. “I’m just saying we can’t afford to overlook the possibility that Sara Beth’s disappearance could be a copy-cat abduction, maybe a parental abduction, maybe…something else.”
Again that flicker in Sam Burke’s eyes, a cold darkness that sent another shiver through Abby.
“What time did Sara Beth go missing?”
“Somewhere around 3:30,” Sheriff Mooney said. “Her father’s secretary picked her up from school at 3:15 or so, and they drove straight to the drugstore, which is less than five minutes away. The secretary, Luanne Plimpton, says that she and Sara Beth couldn’t have been in the store more than five minutes when she noticed the child was gone. She and the pharmacist, Gerald Ferguson, searched all over the store. It didn’t take long. It’s a small, privately owned pharmacy. No surveillance cameras or anything like that. The call to dispatch came in at 3:41. An officer was on the scene and had the area secured within ten, fifteen minutes, but what with the initial search, the place was pretty well contaminated.”
Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s just after three now. I need someone to show me where this drugstore is located. I want to be there, watching, when 3:30 rolls around.”
Meaning that whatever routine events had occurred in the area at the time of Sara Beth’s disappearance would likely occur again today at 3:30. Courier deliveries. People getting off work. Kids walking home from school. Potential witnesses that wouldn’t yet have been interviewed.
“I’ve got a couple of deputies already in place,” the sheriff told him. “But another pair of eyes and ears is always welcome. The Brodie case is Abby’s. She can ride along with you and fill you in on whatever details you’re missing.”
Abby had figured that was coming, but she wished she’d been a little quicker on her feet. Wished she’d suddenly had some critical errand that couldn’t wait.
Sam Burke stood. “Let’s get moving then.”
“I’m right behind you,” she said.
But at the door, he paused for her to pass through ahead of him. Abby wasn’t certain whether he’d done it out of common courtesy or to call attention to her gender, so she didn’t know whether to be appreciative or irritated.
She settled on annoyed, an emotion she suspected Special Agent Sam Burke generated fairly often.
SAM PARKED his rental car at the curb near Ferguson’s Drugstore where he and Sergeant Cross would have an unobstructed view of intersecting streets. A sheriff’s department cruiser was parked several feet in front of them and another a block and a half away. To their right lay the cordoned-off parking lot where dozens of tire tracks would have been marked, measured and photographed.
Across the pavement, the closed pharmacy looked abandoned, with its darkened windows and crime-scene tape crossed over the glass entrance.
For a moment, Sam closed his eyes, imagining the scenario as it might have unfolded. He could almost see Sara Beth’s abductor carrying her from the store. Putting her in a car and driving off with her, taking her away from her friends and family. Away from her mother.
Or maybe she’d been taken by someone local, someone who lived in one of the houses across the street. Some lonely, pathetic soul who had once lost a child. Who had seen Sara Beth and simply wanted her. What if the child was still nearby, so close Sam could almost reach out and touch her?
He gazed at the street, at the white, two-story houses with their darkened windows, and a dark dread bloomed inside him. It was possible that Sara Beth was close by, scared and miserable, but safe. Unharmed.
It was possible, but not very likely. Through twenty years in the FBI, Sam had seen how too many of these cases ended.
But not this one. Please, God, not this one.
Beside him, Sergeant Cross stirred in her seat. He gave her a brief glance. She was just a kid. Probably no more than twenty-seven, twenty-eight. Too wet behind the ears to know how to deal with a case like this. How much crime could there be in a place called Eden?
Enough, he guessed. Three little girls had gone missing.
He turned off the engine and rolled down his window. A wave of humidity flooded the car. “You ever worked a case like this?” he asked abruptly.
“An abduction, you mean?” She turned to face him, scowling slightly. “No. But I know what to do. We all do. Everyone in my department has followed protocol.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.” She was certainly prickly, Sam thought. It had been his experience that women in law enforcement could be just as territorial as their male counterparts. Sometimes more so. Sergeant Cross appeared to be no exception.
“Sorry.” She offered him an apologetic shrug. “I guess we’re all a little on edge around here.”
She hadn’t seen anything yet. “So tell me more about that gut feeling of yours.”
She gave him a surprised look, but didn’t say anything for a moment, as if she wasn’t quite certain of the sincerity of his question.
“What makes you think we’re looking for more than one UNSUB in these abductions?” he pressed.
“Like I said, it’s partly a gut instinct. Sara Beth’s disappearance just doesn’t feel right to me. And then there are the similarities between the other two girls—Sadie and Emily—which are so striking.” Sergeant Cross sat up straighter in her seat, as if she could make herself sound more convincing by doing so. “A few days before Emily Campbell was taken from the playground, a local TV station did a feature on Sadie’s abduction. My sister was interviewed—”
“Your sister?”
“Sadie Cross was my niece.”
Sam glanced at her, wondering if he should comment. Crimes against children were never easy to deal with, but when they hit close to home, it could be devastating because law-enforcement personnel knew better