Tidings of Fear. Ericka Scott

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      “What does this have to do with me? You mentioned something about a serial killer and crossword puzzles.”

      Mark nodded. He slid a fax sheet from under his hat and pushed it across the table.

      Jared glanced down. A half-completed puzzle.

      “Do you want me to finish it for you?”

      “No, yesterday I received this fax from a blocked number. That might not be so unusual, except my fax number isn’t published anywhere. Only three people know it. My wife and two of my former employees, Sylvie Morgan and Margaret Fletcher. When I received this, I immediately called the other two. Sylvie didn’t answer her phone, but when I contacted Margaret, I got some disturbing news. Sylvie’s missing. I caught the first flight I could to come out here to assist in her case.” Mark gave Jared a wry smile.

      “And?” Jared prompted.

      “The detective in charge of the case asked me a few questions, said, ‘Thank you very much,’ and sent me on my way. They don’t want my help, my ideas, and didn’t put any stock whatsoever in this puzzle.”

      “But you do. Why is that?”

      “For one, I learn from my mistakes, and I don’t believe in coincidences. Within a day of Sylvie’s disappearance, I received this fax. I’m not much of a hand at crossword puzzles, but some of the clues and answers to this one have me concerned.”

      Jared glanced down. Most of the questions were pretty common crossword puzzle clues. A four-letter word for organic matter? A three letter word for fish eggs. A four-letter word for bread spread. Nothing unusual until he hit eight across. A six-letter woman’s name. Sylvie had been written in the spot. Eight-down wasn’t a typical clue. A five-letter boy’s name. Most crosswords would ask for a man’s name. Hmmm. Perhaps Mark had stumbled onto something. Especially when the name, Deion, fit both the clue and the remaining letters.

      “Who is Deion?” Jared asked.

      “Sylvie’s two-year-old son.”

      “So they are both missing. Are you sure they haven’t headed off somewhere for the holidays? Christmas is right around the corner.”

      Mark shook his head. “Sylvie’s partner lives here in town, and Sylvie doesn’t have an extended family. Just a sister in New York. The police checked with her and she didn’t have any information about Sylvie’s whereabouts.”

      “Why are you so convinced that there’s something sinister about her disappearance?”

      “My reputation may be shot to hell, but I still have friends who work in the security industry. I had them do a couple of searches.” Mark reached down and pulled up a briefcase. He spun the dials and then popped up the lid.

      “Over the past eight months, eight sets of women and their children have disappeared from this area.” He pulled out a sheaf of newspapers. “I requested back issues from this newspaper, encompassing that same time period. What I’ve found is disturbing.”

      Jared took the papers. Again, most of the clues were common. In the earliest paper, one across and one down were a woman and a girl’s name.

      Mark pointed at the next one. “All of the names coincide with a woman and a child who has gone missing.”

      “What did the police say?” Jared asked.

      “They didn’t say anything to me. Some bored secretary made a few copies and tucked them into a file folder. From what I’ve been able to find out through other sources, none of the disappearances are being actively pursued. None except Sylvie’s, that is. If you could call the lackadaisical attitude of the investigators active.”

      “My God, you’re telling me there are sixteen people missing, and no one’s looking for them?”

      “Last year, in California alone, over a thousand children disappeared, supposedly kidnapped by a parent or family member. Eight’s not a very big percentage of that. Additionally, some of the women missing had talked about running away from abusive spouses. I figure that’s the way this bastard has stayed under the radar. Until now, that is.”

      “Sylvie,” Jared glanced down at the fax in front of him to confirm her last name before continuing, “Morgan. I know that name from somewhere.”

      “So you should. She’s the bestselling author of a personal security book, Safe and Sane Rules for Single Women. Perhaps you’ve read it, the rules work for single men as well.”

      Jared shook his head. “No, but some of the women in my class were discussing it last semester. Didn’t Sylvie work for the government?”

      Mark cleared his throat. “Well, she did.”

      “Won’t they get involved because of her disappearance?”

      “Unfortunately, no. Sylvie worked for a rather, um, secret branch of the government. In fact, if anyone were to try to look up her record, the government would vehemently deny she worked for them at all.”

      “Wouldn’t they be afraid that some clandestine terrorist group had snatched her?” Jared asked.

      “No. All of the security protocols used are outdated. She wouldn’t be able to tell them anything they couldn’t find out on the internet.”

      “If there is a serial killer at work, someone needs to know. The police, the government, the press.”

      “So far, there’ve been no ransom demands. More importantly, no bodies,” Mark shot back. “Believe me, I’ve jumped through all the hoops and no one cares. Sylvie is on her own. Hopefully she and her son aren’t dead.”

      Something about the conversation convinced Jared of the man’s conviction. A woman and child had disappeared and could be in mortal danger. Warming to the idea, he theorized, “Even with no bodies, that doesn’t prove these women and their children are still alive. It could simply mean the killer is smart.” Jared tapped the stack of papers in front of him. “Okay, so the guy left his victims’ names in the paper. Did he leave any other clues?”

      “I don’t know. That’s what I want you to find out. Can you tell who devised these puzzles?”

      “Did you call the paper?”

      “Yes, and hit a dead end. This particular newspaper is a community effort. Residents write the columns, a local psychic does the horoscopes and this puzzle is sent in by a Kris Kross. I ran a check on the name, although it’s obviously fake. The mail is delivered to a post office box.”

      “The post office requires identification when they rent those boxes,” Jared offered.

      Mark nodded. “Yep, they do. Unfortunately, the box is registered to Sylvie’s partner, Margaret.”

      “Did you ask her about the crosswords?”

      “I did. She swore she didn’t rent a P.O. box, and that she didn’t compose any puzzles for the paper.”

      “And you believed her?” Jared didn’t.

      “I did.”

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