When the muted strains of classical music drifted through the black sports car, Max wondered if he’d been transported to an alternate reality. Vince Sutton didn’t strike him as a fan of Bach, Beethoven or Mozart. He’d have thought heavy metal, maybe hard-rocking country, but strings and flutes?
Max pulled out the card Nicole had given him in the lobby of the station. Something about those two Goodales didn’t sit right with him. Even Allie thought their visit was weird, but was that because of the timing or was it more than that? The conversation had felt forced, as if the siblings had been digging for information, waiting for the right time to ask questions or...
Or what? Max shook his head.
“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Vince said as he shifted gears. “Out with it.”
Max couldn’t very well voice his confusion to Allie, not without either offending or alarming her, and she had enough to worry about without adding more family drama. “Have you ever met Allie’s foster siblings?”
“No.” Vince’s jaw worked. He glanced into the rearview mirror. “Simone’s told me a little about Allie’s family. Doesn’t sound like it’s something she’s fond of talking about. Wonder how long Cole and Jack are going to give us alone with Strix.”
“Not long enough, I’m betting.” Max turned to look out the back window and caught sight of Cole’s Fed-friendly SUV. “Maybe we can lose them?”
Vince’s mouth quirked in approval and he sped up. “What makes you ask about Allie’s family?”
“Two of them stopped by the station out of the blue to talk to Allie. Seems like they’ve been out of touch for a while. Back in town in the last few months. Now they’re getting chummy.”
“Either you’re hedging because you think you’re wrong or you want me to land on your suspicion on my own. Speak, Max.”
“I don’t like coincidences.” And the last time he’d ignored his gut, one of his friends died. Allie was a little too close to be objective about the people she cared about. Max, however, was another story. “Last night we all agreed that taking my niece was a personal attack on Allie. Doesn’t get more personal than family.”
Vince didn’t respond. He barely moved as they maneuvered through downtown traffic. Max flicked the card against his hand.
“Never mind. I’m probably projecting.” Great. Now he was starting to sound like a shrink.
“Second-guessing yourself is only going to tick me off,” Vince said. “Last name?”
“Kellan.”
“Not you,” Vince drawled. “Nicole and Patrick.”
“Oh.” He must have left his brain back at the station. “Goodale. Why?”
“Because I don’t ever go against a father’s instincts.”
Father? Max blinked. “I’m not Hope’s—”
“May as well be.” He tapped the phone icon on his steering wheel and activated the speakerphone. It rang twice before it was picked up. “Hey, Jace. It’s me.”
“I haven’t burned down the bar yet, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Good to know,” Vince said with a bit more lightness in his voice than Max had heard before. “I need you to do a background check. Nicole and Patrick Goodale. Ages?” He glanced at Max.
“Between thirty and forty?” Max guessed given what Allie had said. “They just opened a restaurant in midtown, Lembranza. Patrick’s a former contractor—I’m thinking he was licensed back east.” He rattled off the address on the business card. “Allie also mentioned something about a third sibling, Tyler. Younger than the other two.”
“Okay to use your computer, Vince?” Jace said.
“I would prefer it,” Vince said. “Get me everything you can, kid. Email it to me and me only, understood? ASAP.”
“What am I looking for exactly?”
“Crazy,” Max said to the voice on the other end of the phone. “You’re looking for anything crazy.”
“My specialty. Talk soon.”
“Let me guess,” Max said to Vince. “Kid brother? I’ve got one myself.”
“He’s studying to get his P.I. license against his better judgment,” Vince said. “I’d like to make him a partner, but he’s balking. Thinks he’s going to bring down my rep.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He’s got a record. Armed robbery. Accessory, actually. Just got out of prison a few weeks ago thanks to Simone. As I keep telling him, that gives him more insight into the job, not less. Besides, Jim Rockford was an ex-con.”
Max grinned. “There was a time I’d have given my right eye for a trailer like Rockford’s.”
“You and me both. So, about Strix. Are you a plan-ahead kind of guy or do you just want to wing it?”
“I’ve always believed in the power of improvisation,” Max said. “Put me wherever you think I’ll do the most good.”
“That particular bank of stores and businesses has an alley for deliveries and employee parking. Let’s say you plant yourself back there and be a blockade.”
“Should the need arise, you mean,” Max clarified.
“Oh, the need will arise.” Vince took a hard left and smirked. “Trust me.”
* * *
“What are we missing?” Allie stood in the corner of the conference room and watched as Eden, Officer Castillo and Jack organized photographs, official notes and forensic results. They’d commandeered every oversize magnetic whiteboard they could get their hands on, three of which had been left blank for now. The rest had been dedicated to Chloe’s case.
And Hope’s.
“Sorry it took me so long.” Kyla Bertrand, Simone’s executive assistant and a soon-to-be lawyer, once she passed the Bar, swept into the room, arms filled with files and folders. The radiant young woman was always a breath of fresh air.
Kyla dropped the papers on the closest desk, her ebony curls sliding in front of her eyes. “For once, it’s because I had too much information to print out.” Kyla let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve got every piece of paper from all three of the girls’ cases. Alyssa Knight, Shannan McPhearson and Rosalie Jenson. How do you want them?”
“In chronological order starting on the board right behind you,” Eden ordered in a way that told Allie she’d had too much coffee already.
Allie felt like a computer, absorbing new input, processing the information, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull herself free of the tidal wave of fear and grief.
“Hey.” Simone joined her, leaned against the wall beside her and nudged her with her hip. “How are you doing?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my question?” Young girls’ faces were tacked onto the sterile whiteboards, their smiling innocence like an additional knife to her heart.
“You’re too close to this, Al. All three of us are.”
“And yet Eden’s going full steam ahead.”
“Eden doesn’t have another setting.” Simone slouched down, not an easy feat given her teetering heels. “But you’re the key to all this. Not because he’s targeted you this time around. But because you can see things the rest of us don’t.”
“You make it sound so easy.” And yet when she examined the mounting bits and pieces of information, all she could feel was a growing sense of dread.
“And you’re making this too difficult on yourself. Stop fighting whatever’s going on in that brain of yours. Embrace the thoughts, the fear. Walk into it, not away from it.”
“Where on earth have you heard that bunch of malarkey?”
“From a psychologist I’m very fond of,” Simone said without a hint of offense. “I’ve had to have similar talks with reluctant or scared witnesses. How about you stop trying to force the answers and let the answers come to you?”
Allie nibbled on her lip as she studied the boards.
“Look at this case as if it was about people you didn’t know,” Simone urged. “Blank out the faces. Look at the details. The small things. What are we missing? What aren’t we seeing?”
The details. Allie let her gaze drift over the images and reports, certain words and phrases catching before flitting out of her head. Commonalities, similarities among the victims, beyond the red hair and striking expressions. Beyond the locations and the flowers. Beyond the clothes and the background.
Allie snatched Alyssa Knight’s school photo off the board.
The background.
“What is it?” Simone was at her side instantly. “What do you see?”
Everyone in the room stopped, turned.
Allie tapped her finger against the bottom-left corner before double-checking with the other pictures. “YM Photography. It’s the same name on each girl’s picture, but the logo has changed.”
“What?” Eden came over, took the picture. “Why didn’t I see that before?”
“Because you were going off copies of a copy that had been cropped. Not to mention Alyssa’s picture is fifteen years old,” Kyla said. “I contacted each of the schools and asked them to send me the actual photograph as an attachment. I might have dropped your name, Simone,” she added without the barest touch of guilt. “Greased the wheels a bit.”
“Brilliant,” Eden muttered. “Freaking brilliant. How I wish you’d give up this lawyer dream of yours and come work for me.”
“You’re always trying to steal her,” Simone grumbled. “YM Photography,” she said to Officer Castillo, who was already typing. “Let’s see what we can find out about them.”
“First thing that comes up is Your Milestone Photography out of New Hampshire.” Castillo scanned the screen. “Nothing else connects to the YM initials that makes sense.”
“There’s something else,” Allie whispered and turned back to the board. “Something that’s here but won’t come out.” She tapped her finger hard against her temple.
“You need to decompress and stop putting so much pressure on yourself,” Eden said. “Where’s Max? I bet he’s good at depressurization. Oh, wait. My bad. That was Vince, right, Simone?”
“We really need to talk about your sense of timing,” Simone told her as raised voices exploded from out in the bullpen. “Why do I have the feeling my significant other has returned?” She walked over to the door and stuck her head out. “Yep. So that must be what they call a Strix.”
Allie peeked around Simone, barely catching sight of the top of someone’s head bobbing in between Jack and Cole as they escorted him toward one of the interview rooms.
“Ease up, man! I ain’t done nothing for you to arrest me!”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have run, Strix.” Vince walked past the detectives on his way to Simone. “Told you I just wanted to ask you some questions. You’re the one who bolted out the back door.”
“Private property, man. You don’t just get to come in and shake me down!” As they turned the corner Allie caught a glimpse of Strix’s wild expression aimed at Max. “Dude’s out of control!”
“True,” Vince said. “But he’s also not a cop.”
“Next time don’t play battering ram with someone twice your size.” Max brought up the rear as if to follow them into the interview room, only to have Vince steer him away.
“Let them speak to him, Max,” Vince said. “Get some ice on your hand before it swells too bad.”
“What did you do?” Allie grabbed his hand and ran gentle fingers over the backs of his knuckles. “I thought you went to help, not destroy.”
“I was waiting out back, just in case,” Max’s defense sounded oddly rehearsed. “Vince went in to talk to him. Next thing I know the door busts open and out he flies. So I stopped him. Sexy, huh?”
“We’ll see how sexy you feel when you can’t move your hand. What does he know?” Allie asked Vince as she dragged Max into the break room to grab some ice.
“We didn’t have a chance to get that far. Cole will find out soon enough.”
“Don’t bet on it.” Jack joined them, making the normally spacious eating area feel all the more crowded. “He just lawyered up, which means we’re in wait mode again.”
“Unbelievable.” Max sucked in a breath when Allie pressed a cold towel against his knuckles.
“Let me talk to him,” Allie said.
“You can’t,” Jack admonished. “Right, Simone?”
Simone looked pained. “Technically, as you’re a contract employee with this department and the DA’s office, that would be correct.”
“Technically I’m not working for either where this case is concerned. I’m working for the Kellan family.”
“Well, we aren’t letting Mad Max in there,” Jack jerked his thumb at Max.
Mad Max? Was that his nickname? Allie turned expectant eyes on Max, who grinned before he shook his head. “Nope. I like that one, though.”
“Give me a second.” Allie returned to the conference room, had a short chat with Officer Castillo, who gave her the information she needed. Before she headed into the interrogation room, Allie pulled Hope’s picture off the board.
When she opened the door, Strix leaped out of his chair, backed up against the wall and then he sagged like a deflating balloon. “I thought you were him.”
“Him, who? Vince?”
“Nah. Vince is all right. No, that grunge-rock-looking dude with all the hair.” Strix flinched. “Sucker punched me.”
“That sounds terrible.” Allie put on her sympathetic doctor’s persona and handed him a cool towel. “I thought you could use this. Clean yourself up a bit while we wait for your lawyer. If you still think you need one, of course.”
“I got hauled out of my place of business without any cause! Of course I need a lawyer.”
“Except I’m not a police officer. I’m a doctor. So how about I ask you a couple of questions and if you answer, I’ll make sure you’re out of here in less than an hour?”
Strix’s icy blue eyes narrowed as he scrubbed the towel over his cheeks and under his nose. “You can do that?”
“I can do that.” She set Hope’s picture on the table and took a seat, motioned for Strix—whose real name was Reynaldo Soyez—to join her. He wasn’t very big, barely five feet tall, and he was dressed more like a grade-schooler than the twenty-four-year-old college dropout she knew him to be. He’d had his share of hard knocks according to his juvie file, but he was whip smart, especially when it came to computers and technology. Though he could also be had for the right price. “Do you recognize this girl?” She inched the picture closer to him when he sat.
“Sure.” Strix shrugged, his red-and-black flannel shirt bagging around his shoulders. “From the news and the internet. She’s missing or something.”
“She is. But that’s not where you know her from, is it? Because you’ve seen her picture in those videos you made.”
Strix’s eyes darted to the side. He didn’t respond.
“Hope Kellan was taken from a friend’s backyard early yesterday morning. By the same person you programmed this phone for.” She pulled out the phone, tapped the screen to show the clock and set it on top of Hope’s picture. “That’s how long she has to live, Strix. According to your own program. That’s her life counting down in front of your eyes.”
The color drained out of Strix’s already pale face. “No way!” He shoved the phone away, shook his head so hard she was afraid he’d start bleeding again. “No way, man. I don’t have anything to do with any kidnapping or killing. I just write the program. They asked for a countdown clock—that’s what I gave them. What they do with it ain’t my concern.”
“Except it is your concern, Strix. Especially when you sign your work. We saw the owl and ‘Strix’ is Latin for owl. That’s all Vince wanted to ask you about—who hired you. You tell us that, you’re free to go.”
Strix didn’t look convinced. “That’s it? That’s all you want to know? You’re not trying to fit me up for more?”
“All I care about is finding Hope Kellan. I’m betting your client didn’t expect you to leave a digital fingerprint like you did, so feel free to give us everything you know about them. Consider it an investment in your future.”
Strix’s eyes shot from the picture of Hope to the phone and then back to Allie. “It was all done online,” Strix said. “Client tells me what they want and I customize it for them. Clock, video and graphics. Shipping and handling included in the price.”
“How was payment arranged?”
“Cash. That was weird,” Strix said as if it were an afterthought. “Usually I prefer digital currency, you know? Through backdoor channels on the dark web. You know what that is, right?”
“Sure.” The internet underground where far more nasty and disturbing crimes went virtually unnoticed except by specialized law enforcement teams. “But this person paid cash?”
“Sent in the mail if you can believe it. Ten grand because it was a rush job. Money arrived with one envelope for both phones. I sent them within forty-eight hours.”
Allie inclined her head. “Both phones?”
“Yeah, this program only works with someone on the other end deciding what to code in.”
“Like a remote control for a TV?”
Strix appeared impressed. “Yeah, like that. Anyway, once I send it back, I’m done and out. Not my circus, not my monkeys, you know?”
She knew. “Where did you mail it, Strix? Who did you send it to?”
“I don’t know off the top of my head.” Given his squawking tone she understood where his nickname came from. “That’s back at my place.”
“Oh.” Allie nodded. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll let Detectives Delaney and MacTavish know so they can apply for a search warrant. I’m sure your reputation will survive every piece of electrical equipment being confiscated by the police.” She stood up and reached for the phone and picture. “Let me thank you in advance for all the unsolved cases you’re about to help the Sacramento Metro PD solve, Strix.”
“No, wait! Hold up. Um.” Strix’s knees began to bounce excitedly. “Hang on. The information might be on my cell phone. It was some random company back east. New Hampshire, I think? If I can get my cell back, I can find out the address exactly.”
Allie’s blood warmed. “YM Photography?”
Strix’s expression shifted from stunned to irritated. “You playing me now? You already knew?”
“Not for sure. Thanks, Strix. Someone will be in to take care of you in a few minutes.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Allie closed the door behind her as Vince, Max, Jack and Lieutenant Santos emerged from the observation room next door.
“Nice interrogation techniques, Doc,” Max said.
“Impressive,” Santos agreed. “Care to share the relevance of Your Milestone Photography?”
“They took all the murder victims’ school photographs,” Allie said. “Max? Can you have Joe send you a scanned image of Hope’s latest picture?”
“Don’t have to. We just got them a couple of weeks ago and I have one on my phone. I’ll print off a copy.”
“It’s my brother. I need to take this,” Vince held up his phone and angled a look at Max that had Allie wondering just what had gone on with the two of them while they’d been gone.
“We’ve got something,” Eden announced when they returned to the conference room. “We talked to the receptionist at the home office of Your Milestone Photography in New Hampshire. Turns out they’re one of the country’s biggest photography vendors with offices all over, but when it comes to smaller and more rural schools, they contract out to local talent. When I asked for a list of contractors for the last twenty years, they started in on the confidentiality spiel.”
“Did they?” Simone said. “Give me their number, please.”
Eden grinned. “Magic time?”
“You bet.” Simone left to make the call. “Stay tuned for that list, Castillo.”
“A photographer with access to children makes for good hunting ground,” Jack said. “Doesn’t explain how he knew where Hope and her friends would be this weekend.”
“Actually it might,” Kyla said. “I followed a hunch and called Hope’s school, asked about the photographer who took the school photos this year. Turns out the photographer was new and hoping to grow her business. She offered substantial discounts on family portraits that included her coming out to the house on the family’s schedule.”
“She?” Allie frowned. “You said her and she.”
“That’s what the school secretary said,” Kyla confirmed.
“That’s an offer a lot of families wouldn’t turn down,” Eden said. “Especially with the holidays coming up. Any idea if there were any takers?”
“The school didn’t keep track.”
“Max?” Allie went out to where Max was waiting for his picture of Hope to print out. “Do you know if Joe had any family pictures taken lately?”
Max shook his head. “Not that I know of. At least not since I’ve been here.”
“We need to check with the Vander—” Allie looked down at the picture. “What’s that?” She pointed to the tiny discoloration in the bottom-right corner.
“Don’t know. This is the third time I’ve printed it. Must be on the image itself.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “On the image itself.” Her heart thudded so heavy in her chest she could barely breathe. She ran to the conference room, pushing people out of the way as she searched for the picture that had been left in the flowerpot at the girls’ tent. “Where is it? Where’s the picture of us as girls? The one we found in the plant at the girls’ tent?”
“Here!” Eden sorted through the stack of plastic evidence bags left in the box. “Why?”
Allie grabbed it, peered at it, at the small round discoloration in the bottom-right corner. “It’s the same thing. The same defect.”
“What are you talking about?” Eden leaned over her shoulder. “What is?”
“That glare or flare or whatever it is. Right there? See? It’s on Hope’s school picture. Same corner.” All those scattered thoughts that had been zinging through her brain began to coalesce. “Jack? Call the Vandermonts again and find out if they accepted the discount offer. If they did, the person’s been in their house. He’d know the layout of it and the grounds.”
“Right away,” Jack said.
Why did it feel as if everything she’d clung to in her past was disintegrating in her hands? “Allie?” Eden said. “I remember the day this was taken. And if I do, I know you do, too.”
Allie wanted another answer, any other answer, except the one presenting itself. All the memories that had made her smile, that had helped her get through the rough days evaporated. “Eden, we have to be wrong. He wouldn’t have, couldn’t have—”
“Who wouldn’t have or couldn’t have?” Lieutenant Santos’s question cut through the noise in the room.
“Allie? It’s the only explanation.”
“Mission accomplished!” Simone announced upon her return. “Your Milestone Photography will be sending the list of their contractors, along with delivery records of all packages they’ve received and forwarded on in the last six months. Don’t everyone thank me at once.” She looked around, her spine going ramrod-straight. “I missed something, didn’t I? Honestly, I leave the room for a few seconds and you go and solve it.” Allie jolted when Simone’s gaze landed on hers. “We know who it is?”
“Enough already.” Jack reached out and snatched the photograph, evidence bag and all, out of Allie’s grasp. He pushed it into Simone’s hand. “Who took this picture?”
“Oh, I remember that. Tyler Goodale did. It was a couple of days after Christmas the year before Chloe...” Her voice trailed off before she blinked herself back to attention. “Tyler? You’re thinking Tyler killed Chloe?” She dropped her hand. “Oh, Allie.”
“Tyler Goodale? As in Nicole and Patrick Goodale? Allie’s foster siblings?” Lieutenant Santos asked.
“Even if Tyler killed Chloe, he doesn’t have Hope.” Allie trembled, unable to ignore the anger in the lieutenant’s voice. “It’s impossible.”
“Why exactly?” the lieutenant pushed.
“Because Tyler Goodale is dead,” Allie said. “He committed suicide five years ago.”