“Dana Randolph,” Asher said. “The married mother of two? She’s at the bar?”
“Sort of. I mean yes. She’s definitely there. But I don’t think she’s barhopping. It appears that she’s sitting with her family at that high-top table. The kids certainly favor her. You know how when a restaurant is really busy, they offer to seat you in the bar area to eat? I think that’s why she’s there.”
“Nothing about the bar came up in any of our interviews with victims’ families.”
“We’ve been trying to build timelines, come up with places everyone frequented. If they didn’t go to this place very often, it might not have even occurred to them. This could be the tie-in we’ve been looking for. Maybe our killer is a regular and picks his victims there. When we interviewed the staff at the bar who were there when Jasmine worked there, we were focused on friends and enemies, anyone she knew and interacted with a lot. Every single person we checked out from that bar failed to raise red flags.”
She set both phones down and shifted to face him as he turned the truck onto the long winding road up the mountain to his house. “I can almost see the gears turning in that mind of yours. You have a theory?”
“A possibility more than a theory. Something to check out. What if none of the people we looked into at the bar came up as persons of interest because the killer was never after Jasmine?”
“Okay. You lost me there. Explain that one.”
“You’ve seen two of the victims in the crowd, assuming that second one really is Dana Randolph. That’s a heck of a coincidence that three of our six victims had been to that location. If we can prove the other three had at least been there, that’s our link.”
“I’ll bet I can prove all six have been to the same fast-food chains too.”
He smiled. “You’ve got me there. However, the bar where Jasmine worked isn’t a chain. It’s the one location. And it’s not in downtown Gatlinburg with all the tourist spots. It’s more out of the way, a place for locals. I think it’s unlikely it’s just a coincidence that they’ve all been there before. I think that’s where the killer saw them and decided to go after them.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go with that, for now. How does that explain your earlier statement that Jasmine was never a target? Wait. I think I know where you’re going with this. The others were a target, but Jasmine saw something she wasn’t supposed to see? Like maybe she started realizing some of the missing person stories she was seeing on the news were of people she’d seen in the bar, and she’d seen them all with our killer. He killed her to keep her from talking.”
He nodded. “Possibly. Like I said, the theory could be far-fetched. But it does fit the evidence. It would explain why no one mentioned anyone fitting our killer’s description as being one of her friends, or a regular who caused problems. If he didn’t interact with her, if he kept to the background to try not to be noticed, then he wouldn’t be on anyone’s radar who knew her.”
“That really does fit,” she said. “The last victim before Jasmine, June Aguirre, went missing one day before her. Maybe Jasmine saw the killer with June, didn’t think anything about it at the time. But the killer knew she’d seen him and decided to make sure she couldn’t tell anyone once June’s disappearance hit the news. It makes sense with what we know, or think we know anyway. What about Leslie, though? How does she fit in this? Why take another victim from the same family?”
“The media hasn’t made a secret that we found his victims’ graves because we were trying to find Jasmine. If the theory holds that he killed Jasmine because she saw him take June, or even because he believed she was beginning to suspect him for some other reason, that could make him even angrier that because of Jasmine again, he’s lost his private graveyard.”
She nodded. “He was angry at Jasmine all over again, so he wanted to hurt her. But with her gone, the next available outlet for his anger at her was to hurt someone she loved. Leslie.”
Asher parked beside her car in the garage, grabbed the bag with the apple pie, and followed her into the house. “We need to review those pictures more in-depth and set up interviews with the bar staff again, those still working and the ones who no longer work there who knew Jasmine.”
Faith chewed her bottom lip as she looked down at her phone again.
“Daphne still hasn’t responded to your text?”
“Nope. I’m getting really ticked off about it too. She knows how much I worry.”
“Go see her.” He set the pie in the refrigerator. “I mean it. It’s almost time for your weekly pizza night anyway. Reinterviewing everyone from the bar is going to take days. You heading to Knoxville to see your sister isn’t going to jeopardize the investigation. I’ll get Lance to help me. And Ivy’s still tracking down those fingerprints. Maybe she’ll get a hit soon.”
“Are you sure? I mean I’d feel like a heel taking off right now. But I keep thinking about how guys that get out of prison sometimes go after prosecutors, judges, even their own defense attorneys, wanting revenge for them having gone to prison in the first place. This guy knows you and I are on his trail because of the stables. And it’s been no secret in the media that we’re the ones who discovered his graveyard and took away his trophies, the bodies of his victims. What if he goes after us, after our families, out of revenge?”
“I think that’s a stretch. But you should still check on Daphne in person. It’s the only way you’re going to reassure yourself that she’s okay. Do you want me to go with you? Or one of the others from UB?”
She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer. But, no. Someone needs to direct the others, explain what we’ve found, our theory. I’ll head to her dorm, yell at her for letting her phone battery die, or whatever, and worrying me. Then I’ll join you at the bar. Two and a half hours max. I’ll still be able to help you with those interviews.” She dug her keys out of her purse and headed toward the garage.
Asher stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Did you check that Find My Sister app on your phone?”
“It’s turned off.”
“Have you ever known Daphne to turn it off?”
“Only once, back when she was in high school. I lit into her for it and she’s never done it again. Ever.”
“I’m going with you. You can call Grayson about your concerns on the way to Knoxville.”
She blinked back threatening tears of gratitude. “Thanks, Asher.” Without even thinking about it, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. When she realized what she was doing, and that her arms were pressing against his healing injuries, she stiffened in shock. “I’m so sorry. I’m probably hurting you.”
She started to pull back but he tightened his arms around her. “I’m fine. You need to stop worrying about me so much.”
She hesitated. “I’m not hurting you?”
“Just the opposite. I’d like to stand here forever holding you. But I know you’re worried about your sister.” He kissed the top of her head again then sighed and stepped back. “Let’s go.”
They’d just gotten into his truck when her phone buzzed in her purse. She gasped and held up a hand to stop him from backing out of the garage. “It’s Daphne. She finally texted me.”
He leaned over and started laughing when he read the screen.
She gave him an aggravated look. “It’s an endearment.”
“Smother-mother’s an endearment?”
“It is!”
“Sure. Okay.” He grinned.
“Whatever. Just give me a minute to see if she really is okay.” She reread the text.
Hey, smother-mother. Sorry—my battery died. Is something wrong?
Faith typed a reply.
Everything is fine. Just worried when no answer to my texts or call.
“Go see her, Faith. It’ll make you feel better.”
She almost denied it, but he was right. Seeing her sister, safe and sound in person, would calm her nerves. And maybe, just maybe, they could talk out her confusing feelings about Asher. Daphne might tease her. Okay, she’d definitely tease her. But in the end, she would hopefully help her see things more clearly, figure out what she should do.
“If you’re sure, I think I’ll take you up on that,” she told him.
“Of course. I’ll head to the bar and start setting up interviews. I can show the picture on my phone to the owner, see if it jogs his memory about regulars back then, even if they didn’t pay attention to Jasmine. If Lance can’t help, I’ll get Ryland to send some others out there, even if he has to pull in some temporary consultants. We’ll get it done. Don’t worry about the case. Do what you need to do.”
She took his hand in hers. “You really are a wonderful friend and partner, Asher. Thank you.”
He gave her a pained look then nodded. “Call if you need me.”
Her heart twisted at that look. But she didn’t have time to try to sort things out with him right now. She really needed to see Daphne, to rid herself of this nagging feeling that things weren’t okay, in spite of the text.
Asher backed out of the driveway while she idled in his garage, texting Daphne again before she got on the road.
Daphne, where are you?
My dorm. Why?
Stay there. Don’t let anyone in. If anything seems off in any way, call security.
You’re scaring me.
Don’t be scared. It’s just a case I’m working. Has me uneasy. I’m coming to see you.
Oh brother.
I’ll make it up to you. Pizza on me.
Sounds good.
And turn your Find My Annoyingly Independent Little Sister app back on.
Have to plug it in first. Battery almost dead.
She was halfway to Knoxville when the last text that Daphne had sent flashed in her mind again. Something about it was bothering her. She pulled to the side of the highway to reread it.
Battery almost dead.
That didn’t seem right. She scrolled to one of the earlier texts.
Sorry—my battery died.
Bad word choice or something else? If her battery had died, the assumption was that she had it plugged in so she could text Faith after that. So why, after Faith asked her to turn on her app, would she then say her battery was almost dead?
“You’re overreacting, Faith. You’re overreacting.”
But even as she said the words out loud, her fingers were flying across the keyboard, sending another text.
Daphne. Call me.
Nothing.
Faith tried calling her sister.
No answer.
She texted again, called again. Still nothing.
She turned on her app. A few seconds later, it stated Daphne’s phone could not be found. What was going on?
Suddenly a text came across, with a picture.
She screamed and immediately swung her vehicle around, almost crashing into a car that had to swerve to avoid her. Ignoring the honking horn, she slammed the gas, fishtailing until her wheels caught and shot her car back down the road toward Gatlinburg.
Her hand shook so hard she struggled to press the favorites button on her phone for Asher. When it finally buzzed him, he answered on the first ring.
“Everything okay?”
“No. God, no. I’m heading back to Gatlinburg. Asher, he’s got her. He’s got Daphne.”
“Hold it. Slow down. I can’t understand you. Try again.”
She clenched a hand on the steering wheel, her knuckles going white. “It’s Daphne. That bastard has her. He texted me a picture of her, bruised, bleeding. Oh, God, Asher. I recognized the background in the photo. The killer’s got Daphne in my house.”