Stalked. Elizabeth Heiter
shield dangling around his neck even inside the police station and didn’t seem capable of cracking a smile. She’d also learned he had poor boundaries when it came to other people’s food in the police fridge. Her 2:00 a.m. dinner had been a candy bar from the vending machine after he’d eaten her pasta.
“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Quincy announced.
“What?” Sophia asked, barely looking up from the report she was reading.
“Morning news.” He turned and headed back the way he’d come, offering no more information.
“Shit.” Sophia dropped the report on the table and followed.
Evelyn trailed behind them, not even trying to keep up. They turned into the break room—it smelled of gunpowder and body odor—on the other side of the station. There were a handful of patrol cops inside, drinking coffee and chatting before their early morning shift started. A small TV was on in the corner, the sound low.
Quincy turned it up loud enough that the other cops scowled at him and left the room. Sophia and Quincy ignored them. Evelyn gave them rueful nods and stepped out of the way.
There, standing in front of a big white colonial in well-tailored dress pants and a bright blue sweater, was a middle-aged woman with dark blond hair and sad blue eyes. Microphones were pointed at her from all directions, as though she’d called a news conference.
“Linda Varner,” Sophia said unnecessarily. Haley’s name had been a staple on the morning news for a month, but it had been a while since Evelyn had seen her mom in front of a camera.
“Where’s the husband?” Evelyn wondered. The first few days after Haley’s disappearance, she’d gotten used to seeing Linda Varner speaking into the microphones, with Pete Varner standing slightly behind her, silently holding her hand. Always playing the part of the dutiful husband, and yet Evelyn had gotten the feeling it was for show. “What’s going on? Do they still camp out at her house or did she call them?”
Sophia shook her head, but it seemed to be at the TV rather than any response to Evelyn’s question. “Don’t do it, Linda.”
“My daughter left behind a note,” Linda said, her voice strong and clear.
“Damn it,” Sophia snapped. “What the hell is she thinking?”
“She must have called the press,” Evelyn said softly. What a disaster.
“What did the note say?” one reporter asked.
“When did you get it?” another called.
“I found the note last night,” Haley’s mother said in the same steady, even voice, almost as if she was reading from a script. “It said...” Her voice suddenly broke, and her chin dropped to her chest before she tipped her head back, looking determined. “It said she feared for her life.”
“Well, not exactly,” Sophia noted. “I can’t believe she’s doing this. She knows better.”
“It said she knew someone was coming after her.” Suddenly, Linda was staring directly, unnervingly, into the camera. The shot zoomed in close on her face. “My daughter suspected someone was stalking her. That person grabbed her. But I know she’s still out there. I know she wants to come home. So, whoever you are, know that we won’t stop looking. We’re going to find my daughter, and unless you let her go, that means we’ll find you, too.”
The camera was so close that when she stopped speaking, Evelyn could see Linda swallow, could see the shallowness of her breathing despite her calm demeanor. From a distance, she looked put together. Up close, the cracks were showing.
When Linda didn’t say any more, the reporters started yelling over one another with questions.
“That’s all I have to say.” Linda stepped back, opened the door and disappeared into her house.
Sophia lifted the remote and stabbed at a button. The TV went dark. “Unbelievable.”
“Have you talked to her about the press and—”
“Hell, yes,” Sophia said as Evelyn glanced at Quincy, who stood silently in the center of the room, arms crossed over his barrel chest, watching them.
She wondered about his role. In the short time she’d been involved, he seemed to show up a lot, and stick around for the details. “Are you involved in the investigation?”
He grunted at her. “Nope. This is a small station. Sophia and I are the only experienced detectives. Sophia’s handling this case close to full-time, and she’s a single mom with two kids at home.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Sophia snapped. “I’m not the only cop with kids.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the only detective here working all night long, while a babysitter watches your kids. Believe me, that can’t lead to anything good. When’s the last time your good-for-nothing ex...” He trailed off as Sophia’s lips tightened and she jammed her hands on her hips. “Anyway, it means I’m getting called in on nearly everything else. Just consider me an interested party.”
“We had a lot of department turnover last year,” Sophia told her, dropping her arms to her sides.
She still looked annoyed with Quincy, but Evelyn got the impression they were friends, and she seemed to shake it off fast.
“We’ve got some new detectives, but they’re not fully up to speed yet,” Sophia added.
From the loaded gaze Quincy was sending Sophia, Evelyn had a feeling there was a story there, but instead of asking, she said, “Should we talk to Haley’s mom again? At this point, the damage may already be done, but—”
“I’ll handle it,” Sophia cut her off. “Fact is, I can’t stop Linda from talking to the press. She’s doing anything she can to keep Haley’s story in the news. And honestly, if I were her, I’d probably be doing the same thing. Maybe it will even help. If she’s still alive, someone must have seen her.”
“Sure, but put too much pressure on her kidnapper and if she’s alive—”
“I know.” Sophia grimaced. “She won’t be for long. So, let’s get down to it. You’ve looked through the files. What do you think? Is she still alive?”
“I need to get a closer look at all the players before I can answer that,” Evelyn hedged, because although she was ready to give Sophia a victim profile, she had too little to go on to give a helpful perpetrator profile. “But why would Linda think the note meant her daughter had a stalker? Did anything turn up about a stalker?”
Sophia sighed, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the break room carafe as she shook her head. “No. But Linda’s convinced Haley was grabbed by a stranger. She’s thought that since the beginning. She’s talked herself into thinking a stalker set his sights on Haley the week before Haley went missing, when Linda was away at a work conference. She can’t bring herself to believe it’s someone she knows.”
“But it makes no sense for Haley to leave some cryptic note if she thought a stranger was stalking her. She’d tell someone.”
“Agreed,” Sophia said.
“Why would she leave the note at all?” Quincy spoke up. “If it was a stranger, why not tell someone she was scared right away? And if it wasn’t a stranger, and she really feared for her life—if she really believed that if anyone ever found the note, it would be too late for her—then why not write down his name? Or at least give us some details so we can figure it out. I mean, by then, if she’s right, that person can’t hurt her anymore.”
“That’s a damn good point, Quincy,” Sophia said, and looked at Evelyn. “You have a take on that? You think the whole thing could be some kind of hoax, could be planted?”
“I really doubt it,” Evelyn said. “But you’re right. It’s an odd note. We should consider the possibility that