Vanished. Margaret Daley

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      Ruth leaned forward and set her mug on a magazine. Then she sat back straight and looked right at Madison. “Positive. I was thinking those numbers were today’s date. Well, yesterday I was thinking tomorrow’s date.”

      “Do you recall the make of the car?”

      “Big. I’m not good with the different kinds of cars.”

      “Yep, Ruth thinks a car is either big or small.” Mr. Goldsmith took the seat next to her on the couch and patted her knee.

      “Anything else? Did you recognize who was driving?”

      “Nope. The windows were tinted dark. Couldn’t see too well inside and besides, whoever was driving sped away.”

      “Speeding? You didn’t say anything about that last night.”

      “All I could think about last night was that Ashley was missing. That poor child. I’ve got to fix something for J.T.’s family to eat. They will need to eat during this ordeal.”

      “Yes, ma’am. They will.” Madison finished putting the information down on her pad. “Is that all? You might close your eyes…” When the woman did, Madison continued, “…and try to picture the car driving away.”

      Ruth popped one eye open. “You mean speeding away.”

      “Yes.”

      The fiftysomething woman closed both eyes again. An almost tranquil expression descended on her lined face. Suddenly she looked right at Madison. “Nope. Nothing, but if I remember anything else, I’ll give you a call.”

      Madison removed one of her cards and jotted down her cell number. “You can reach me here day or night.”

      The second Madison stepped out onto the Goldsmiths’ front porch and the door closed behind her, she punched in the sheriff’s number. When the deputy on duty at the office answered, she gave him the description of the car with the partial Illinois license plate number. “It’s important we find the driver. The car was seen speeding away from the area about the time of the abduction.”

      Day one, 6:30 a.m.: Ashley missing twelve hours

      As J.T. made his way through the woods toward the back gate with the K-9 police officer and his German shepherd, a dog’s bark echoed through the trees repeatedly.

      “We found something,” a searcher shouted.

      J.T. glanced in the direction and hurried his steps as a crime scene tech reached the dog who sat next to his handler. After the tech took a photograph, J.T. saw him pick up Ashley’s pink socks with butterflies and put them into a plastic bag. His heart slowed to a painful throb. Then the young man removed a wet, pale pink T-shirt from the ground behind a bush.

      For a few seconds everything came to a standstill for J.T. The woods swam before his eyes and he staggered a couple of steps.

      Focus!

      He drew in a breath that didn’t fill his lungs. Again he inhaled the moisture-rich air until finally he didn’t feel so light-headed. Careful where he walked, J.T. made his way toward the crime-scene tech who now was bagging his daughter’s blue jeans with butterflies around the hem. Sweat popped out on J.T.’s forehead and seemed instantly to drench him as he spied Ashley’s outer clothing in separate evidence bags lined up on the ground. That sight nearly brought him to his knees.

      Was Ashley sexually assaulted?

      The young man held up a smaller plastic container. “It looks like he used a tranquilizer dart to neutralize her.”

      J.T. clenched his jaw to keep the words, “That’s my daughter you’re talking about,” from spilling out. He steadied himself and took the bag with the dart and examined it.

      Is this why Kim didn’t hear anything? Why Ashley didn’t scream?

      Day one, 7:00 a.m.: Ashley missing twelve and a half hours

      “Colin told me you were working on the case.” Emma Fitzpatrick let Madison into her house.

      “I wouldn’t have had it any other way when I heard about Ashley missing.” Madison scanned the familiar foyer, remembering back to the time she had worked with J.T. on Emma’s brother’s murder case.

      “You’re here to see Kim?”

      “Yes. I want to talk to her. Is she up?”

      “Actually, I doubt she slept any last night even though she went to bed. She’s in the kitchen with Grace. We were fixing breakfast. We’re trying to get her to eat something.” Emma started for the back of the house. “Have you eaten yet?”

      “No, but—”

      “If I discovered anything from my trauma last year, it was that a person has to take care of herself if she’s going to do her best job.”

      “You’re beginning to sound like Grace.”

      Emma slanted a glance over her shoulder. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

      “You should.” When Madison entered the kitchen, Grace greeted her with a smile and a mug of coffee. “I heard you coming and remembered you like your cup of joe black.”

      A night of no sleep was beginning to catch up with her. Madison drank some of the brew, wondering when she would turn into a huge cup of coffee. “Thanks. This tastes wonderful, Grace.” Then turning to the teenager at the table, her gaze riveted to the window overlooking the backyard, Madison added, “I came to see you, Kim. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

      “I told Dad and Rachel what happened.”

      The waver in the girl’s voice italicized the fragile control she had over her emotions. Madison noted that as she sat across from her and placed her mug on the table. “I know. But sometimes when you retell an event, it triggers a memory you forgot.”

      “Nope. I told them everything.” Kim shifted her attention to Madison, a dullness in her gaze. “I told Ashley to go outside and play while I talked with Lexie. It had stopped raining and the sun had even peeked out of the clouds. I checked on her as she went to the swing and sat down, then I took a seat on the couch again and talked until I heard Dad come home.” Hopelessness rang in the rote recitation of the facts.

      “You didn’t see anything out of place in the backyard?” Madison asked, concerned by both Kim’s apathetic tone and her appearance, as though she had wakened from a nap and hadn’t bothered to comb her hair.

      The teenager shook her head. Suddenly her lower lip quivered while tears flooded her eyes and a look of devastation took hold of Kim.

      “It isn’t your fault,” Madison said, knowing from J.T. that Kim blamed herself for Ashley’s disappearance. Blame was such a wasted emotion, but she almost always saw it in this type of situation. The “if onlys” could eat at a person until there was nothing left.

      Kim blinked, loosening a tear to slide down her cheek. “You don’t understand. I screamed at Ashley to leave me alone. Daddy doesn’t think so, but I think she ran away because СКАЧАТЬ