And then what? He brought Nina back to Georgia and released her?
“What are you working on?”
Darcy jumps. She didn’t hear Laurie come up behind her.
“Researching this Gil Waggoner guy that causes trouble in town.”
“Oh, does the sheriff suspect Waggoner kidnapped Sandy Young?”
“Perhaps. They consider him a person of interest at the moment. Regardless, this guy is bad news, Laurie. Steer clear of Waggoner.”
CHAPTER TEN
Darcy’s stomach flutters with butterflies. She feels under-dressed and overwhelmed amid the throng of deputies and FBI agents. Hensel, who drove into Millport to purchase a gray suit fitting of an agent heading a kidnapping case, holds court in the corner with Tipton, Filmore, and a younger deputy Darcy doesn’t recognize.
The BAU agents are recent hires, the profiler a pretty young woman with blonde curls, and the field agent an African-American man. Darcy hasn’t met either, doesn’t know their names. Time moved on without her at the BAU.
She checks her phone for messages from Laurie and the kids and finds none. No news is good news. Still, she feels uncomfortable with Jennifer and Hunter out of her sight. The probability that one kid sneaked out of the house the night before last continues to weigh on her. The mud on the bedroom floor was a dead giveaway. She’s leaning toward Jennifer. Over the last day, her daughter vacillated between quiet and a little too bubbly with her friendliness. She’s up to something. That either child slipped past Hensel disturbs her.
A long table along the side wall of the makeshift briefing room holds three dozen assorted donuts. Plain, cinnamon, glazed, and jelly. The two agents assisting Hensel ignore the donuts. Better to let the deputies get their fill and not step on any toes. Hensel purchased the treats at the local Dunkin, an effective trick he’s long used to get the locals on his side. You could spend thousands of dollars on outreach and conferences, or drop twenty-five bucks on three boxes of donuts. The latter won every time.
Darcy lowers her eyes when the female agent looks in her direction. Too late. She’s coming over, black heels clicking the floor, the black power dress showing off the legs of a woman who must have been a track star in school. The woman offers her hand.
“Agent Gellar?”
Darcy glances up and pushes herself off the edge of the table.
“Darcy,” she says, shaking the woman’s hand. The agent’s grip is strong. “I retired three years ago.”
“Still Agent Gellar to me,” the agent says, her smile showing off pearly whites. “I read your profile of Michael Rivers at the academy. Spot on. You were a huge influence on me. I’m Victoria Reinhold, but everyone calls me Reinhold like they forgot my first name.”
“How long have you been with the BAU?”
“Three years with the FBI, a year-and-a-half profiling with the BAU.”
“You moved up fast.”
“Like you. I’m giving the profile on the kidnapper today, but I’d like your opinion after I finish.”
Darcy nods, though her inferiority complex grows the longer she stands in the career-driven agent’s presence. This is a woman who won’t stop at the BAU. She’ll hold a high position in CIRG, the FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group. Spotting an opening in the conversation, the second FBI agent lends his hand. He’s as tall as Tipton, black hair cut short and graying at the edges. His bifocals make him look like a college professor, but his body appears muscular beneath the silver-gray suit.
“Agent KC Fisher,” the male agents says, clasping Darcy’s hand in his. “I understand you helped convince the sheriff to invite us here. For that I thank you.”
“I’m unsure I did much to—”
Tipton’s voice quiets the clamor. The sheriff holds up a hand until he silences the last murmurs floating around the room.
“Okay, people. We’re about to get started. For those of you who didn’t notice yet, Agent Hensel laid out an impressive spread of snacks on the table. I’m not responsible for calories consumed.”
“Especially for you, Grasser,” Filmore says, smiling at the overweight deputy who accompanied Tipton to Laurie’s house.
The sheriff waits for the laughter to die down.
“Grab a donut or two and take your seats so we can get the show on the road.”
The deputies fill the half-dozen folding chairs. The room doesn’t have a podium or a digital screen. Tipton wheels a laptop computer attached to a 60-inch high-definition television into the room and sets the cart beside a wooden table. Hensel, Fisher, and Reinhold take seats behind the table while Darcy meanders toward the back of the room, wondering why Hensel invited her. When the room quiets, Tipton points the remote at the television. A picture of Sandy Young, wearing a blue-and-white soccer uniform appears on the screen.
“Sandy Young went missing in Scarlet River forty-two hours ago. Witnesses report last seeing Young at Cass Park.” Tipton’s eyes move toward Darcy at the back of the room as though he still holds her in suspicion. “As you’re all aware, we’re manning checkpoints on all roads leading out of Scarlet River with the help of our friends at the state police. That the kidnapper hasn’t attempted to pass the checkpoints with Young makes us think he’s keeping her inside Scarlet River, or he took her out of the county before we erected the roadblocks. Let’s hope that isn’t the case.” Tipton pauses. “To help us figure out who this man is and bring Sandy Young home alive, I brought in the FBI to help with this case.”
Grumbling rolls through the room. Wounds from the decade-old failed investigation run deep, and it’s easier to place blame on an outside entity than stare at the face in the mirror.
Tipton introduces Hensel and shoots the troops a stern glare. The grumbles stop, allowing Hensel to give a short introduction before he calls Agent Reinhold to the table.
Hensel slides into his chair as Reinhold strides to the computer. She clicks the mouse, and four pictures appear on the television, the four girls abducted ten years ago. Nina Steyer’s full-color photograph draws Darcy, the quality much higher than the posters. Darcy can see every freckle and blemish, the glint of the camera flash bouncing off the girl’s teeth, the subtle waves in her long hair.
“We’re working off the assumption these abductions are related to the Sandy Young case. Which means the unknown subject is responsible for five kidnappings and at least three murders spanning ten years. But who are we searching for?” Reinhold advances the slide refuting common misconceptions about child abductions. “Most child kidnappers are family members, someone the child knows and trusts. The incidence of strangers abducting children is a fraction of a percent. But as children increase in age, the line blurs, and it becomes more common for kidnappers to seek sexual gratification in older girls. In all four of the cold cases, the girls were unrelated, ruling out a common family member kidnapping these teenagers.”
Reinhold moves the presentation to the next screen, a summary of kidnapping statistics.
“Among stranger kidnappers, the offenders are overwhelmingly men. Over 95 percent. Less than half of stranger abductions result in murder, but those that do include the most violent and disturbed of offenders.”
As Darcy edges closer to the deputies, Reinhold steps forward to grab their attention.
“Our unknown subject is a single male who seeks sexual gratification from his victims. He may have been in a relationship prior to the kidnappings, but he requires a solitary lifestyle to hide his activities from others. This man is an outcast, shy and uncomfortable in social settings. He has difficulty holding a job because he doesn’t mix with coworkers, and if he has a job, he’s the guy who hides in his cubicle all day and eats lunch at his desk rather than going out with others. And he was a victim of sexual abuse during his childhood.”