After they saw the couple talking upstairs, David and Roxanne wanted to ensure that Harold left before they did. They raced down five flights of steps and waited inconspicuously in the corner of the hospital lobby as Harold walked across the parking lot, toward his car.
Confident the man was leaving, they moved into the vestibule. David said, “I can’t take him off the suspect list with the way Jaxon reacted. He’s scared of that man.”
“He’s scared of all men.”
David’s eyebrow rose as he thought through Jaxon’s reactions. “Not Connor. He clings to that boy.”
“Exactly. ‘Boy.’ Connor may legally be an adult, but he’s still a teenager. And in Jaxon’s memories, Connor’s a boy not that different in age from others who would have been held victims in that hellhole. He’s someone to trust and someone who would protect him.”
David leaned against the cold glass. “But his reaction to Harold was visceral. You saw how wide his eyes got. He doesn’t react as poorly to other men.”
Roxanne turned to face him. “Oh, yeah? What did he do when he saw your deputy last night?”
“Ran, but that was when he had just gained freedom.”
“And when he arrived at the hospital. Did he open up to Dr. Queen or Nurse Sheila?”
“Hell, Roxanne, I don’t warm up to Dr. Queen either. Sheila is much easier to talk to.”
“How did he react when he first saw you?”
David watched the water running over the asphalt from the melting snow. “Fine, I surrender. He didn’t care much for me either.”
“Look, I’m not taking Harold off the suspect list—I’m not taking anyone off until we learn more—but I don’t see anything that makes him stand out either. I did back then, but not now.” She turned to face him. “Jaxon didn’t react well to him because he’s a man, and after the last ten years, he has a big fear of any adult man. Harold was someone who came in and out of his life, so he has no particular affinity for him, unlike Connor, so he’s a stranger to him today—just like you or the doctor or any other man. I didn’t see any signs he recognized him at all.”
David leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. The chill helped slow the scramble of thoughts bouncing around his brain. “Which means I focused on the wrong guy.”
A blast of cold air hit them as the outside doors swooshed open. A woman walked in, chatting on her phone with barely a glance in their direction. The interior doors closed behind her, cutting off her chatter.
Once they were alone again, Roxanne said, “We focused on him because no one else crossed our radar. We had thousands of insignificant little leads, none of them worth much. Nothing pointed in any direction except the boy disappearing without a struggle, which meant we assumed he went with someone he knew. It made sense to focus on a family member, and Harold was the only one, but none of us were ever sure. You know that.”
“I also know I was the lead investigator, so it was my job to get it right.” David stood up straight, feeling determined. “And now we have a new lead. A house somewhere off the Wattsville exit. Unfortunately, the tax office isn’t showing an old house with a cellar on the McGregor land. All it shows is the house and the trailer, just like I remember.”
“Doesn’t mean one’s not there.”
“No, of course not.” David stared into the parking lot. “But it sure does make getting a search warrant a lot harder.”
“So maybe we just go visit. He talked to you last time.”
“Yeah, maybe. But last time, we were knocking on every door, looking for a lost child. This time would be basically an accusation. And if he refuses to let us search and he does have kids there…”
Roxanne completed the thought. “Then he’s alerted we’re that close, and he gets rid of them. So maybe we ask some neighbors if there is an old house? Go knock on doors and see if anyone recognizes the description Jaxon gave us?”
“Maybe, but finding people up that way willing to talk to the law is about as hard as finding the right abandoned house. Even harder for the FBI. Run, Rudolph, run.” His reference to Eric Rudolph, the infamous domestic terrorist who detonated a bomb at the 1996 Olympic games in Atlanta, wasn’t missed by Roxanne. The FBI led a relentless manhunt in the North Carolina mountains until he was eventually caught scrounging through a dumpster behind a grocery store by a small-town rookie police officer. Throughout the search, rumors floated that locals had helped the fugitive with food and places to sleep. While that was never proven, many enjoyed watching the frustration of the FBI agents as they struggled to catch their target. One of the most popular T-shirts in tourist stores in the region read Run, Rudolph, Run.
Roxanne asked, “Do you have a better plan?”
He studied the mountains to their west. “Maybe. An old high-school buddy lives up there. He grew up in Wattsville and moved back to the old family land after retiring from the military, but he knows the area and the people out that way much better than I do.”
“Then let’s go see him.”
“Not quite that easy. We might have hung out together in high school some, but we’ve only seen each other a few times since. And he’s not a big fan of the badge. I’ll call and find out if he’ll see us.” David tossed a glance over his shoulder at Agent Gonzalez waiting in the lobby behind them, his red tie stark against the white shirt. “If I can convince him to let us come by, you two need to look much less like federal agents.”
“Give us five minutes to change.”