NOT EDITED

The entryway had been the true ‘start’ of the chase, but the kitchen had been the second stop. Two of the drawers were open, and the knife block on the counter was tipped over, though none of the knives were missing. “It’s one of those childproof ones,” Rick said quietly after Bo had stared at it a little too long. Careful not to actually touch it, he pointed to the black button on the back of the block. “You have to push that down and in while you pull out one of the knives.”

“I can’t imagine trying to get your mind and hands to work together on that when you have an excessive amount of adrenaline coursing through your body,” Bo said.

“Yeah. Me neither. So she… couldn’t get a knife out of there, so she tried to get one from the drawer.”

“It’s certainly a possibility. It appears to be rummaged through pretty thoroughly.” Bo turned toward the other open drawer, which was a little offkilter, like someone had tried to close it too quickly or at the wrong angle and misaligned the grooves. “This one, though… It’s possible she opened this one to try and slow down her attacker. When it’s open, it leaves a relatively small space between it and the island to try and squeeze through.”

“Jesus. I wish he’d gotten in her damn sleep.” Rick closed his eyes. “That’s… monumentally fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Bo shook his head. “Hoping someone died in their sleep, unaware of the terror or pain? That’s not fucked up. It’s human. Knowing she tried to fight for her life and lost isn’t a good feeling. You’ll receive no blame or judgment from me.”

“Thank you,” Rick whispered.

Bo simply nodded as he photographed the blood next to the sink. Once it was documented, both through photographs and through his little clipboard evidence map, he swiped a test strip through it and plugged it into the device connected to his phone.

“Did you get the results back from the basement at the school?”

“Male.”

“Male,” Rick echoed. “Did you… get a hit on anything?”

“I technically only have access to the LAPD’s system rather than anything past city limits,” Bo said.

“Technically?”

“Well, I…” Bo cleared his throat. “I know my way around a firewall or two.”

Rick snorted. “You’re such a little shit. Did you find your way around a firewall or two?”

“I haven’t yet, but I was planning on it once I was done here,” Bo admitted. “Like everything else, I’ll still have to run the full tests before it’s considered, you know, legal evidence.”

“I kind of get the feeling Jamal knows how to work his way around that too.”

“Sometimes.”

Rick chose to leave it at that for now. “You got a type on this one?”

“O-positive, which is also what I typed Miss Jameson to be at the lake scene.”

“That one at the school. AB-neg. I Googled that. You know it’s rare as shit?”

“Arguably, shit is pretty common, especially in comparison to AB-negative blood type.” Bo smiled faintly. “I know. Unfortunately, unless the school types all of its employees, its rarity is unlikely to help us successfully identify anyone, much as I wish the opposite were true. Sometimes a suspect will willingly give it to you, but around a third of Americans don’t even know their type anyway.”

As much as that was one hell of a downer for the investigation, one corner of Rick’s mouth lifted as Bo snapped a couple pictures of the utensil drawer. “So you’re still full of the absolute randomest facts in existence, huh?”

“Oh, always.”

“Don’t let anyone take that from you. Or your assumptions and possible scenarios. They make you you. And they’re valuable insights. You are valuable insight.”

“I… will do my best.” Bo cleared his throat, a simple signal he wouldn’t be able to accept the compliment. That he wanted to move on. He’d done the very same a million times over in the brief time they’d worked together years before. It was unfortunate that hadn’t changed for him. Even back then, Rick had hoped it would. So much had changed for Rick since he left the LAPD, and seemingly for Bo, so little had. “Do you happen to know what this is?”

“Which ‘this’ are we talking about?”

After a few more pictures of the drawer closest to the island, the one that had appeared untouched, Bo pulled out a small, metal cylinder on a keyring.

“It looks like the key for a gun safe,” Rick said.

“That’s what I thought,” Bo murmured. “She may have opened this drawer to try and get the key initially, but maybe the attacker was too close for her to find it, so she panicked and tried the knife block and then yanked open the utensil drawer instead, searched for… I don’t know. A specific knife? A hidden handgun? Anything that might fit in the drawer, really.”

“Well, I know for sure she has a handgun in the house. When she first got certified and bought one, her sister had told her she was required to report the purchase to the police so we knew she had them. At that time, I think she had a little pistol.”

“We’ll confirm it’s still in the house, just to keep all of our Ts crossed and all of that,” Bo said. He lifted his head as Bridget came back into the kitchen. He raised a brow. “I assumed you had left with Deputy Downs.”

“If you’re on the clock, so am I,” Bridget assured with a soft smile. “He just needed to talk before getting on the road.”

“Thank you for doing that for him, Bridget. I don’t know that I’d’ve had it in me tonight,” Rick said.

“Of course. We’re here to help. That doesn’t always mean just the crime scene stuff.”

“It’s appreciated,” Rick said. He cleared his throat, eyes shifting back to Bo. “So?”

“So on… which aspect of things?” Bo asked.

Rick nodded toward the key in his hand. “The guns. Crossing our Ts and dotting our Is.”

“We’ll make sure they’re here and accounted for. The key being in this drawer insinuates they are, but the wrong insinuation leaves you unaware if your suspect now has their hands on a few handguns.”

After a moment, Rick nodded. He pointed to the blood on the counter. “If this is Carol’s, what do you think…? You don’t think he stabbed her here, right?”

Bo shook his head. “The spatter pattern is more indicative of impact. Like if the killer were to have forcefully pushed her head into the counter.” He cleared his throat, using a finger to trace up from the spot on the counter and up to the small drops of blood in the sink and on a small section of wall above it. “This would be from a second or third impact after the first one or two caused a bleeding wound.”

“So he bashed her head in,” Rick said.

“I think ‘in’ is probably too strong of a word, but yes, they bashed her head into the counter at least a small handful of times. The two likely scenarios in my mind are to either stop her from searching for a knife or to get her to drop one she had managed to grab. Either way, after this, she got away.” Bo pointed to the drops of blood on the floor, the trail leading out of the kitchen and toward a sliding glass door.

“We checked the doors back there. I didn’t… I didn’t see anything,” Rick said.

“Neither did I. There’s like a little patio back there, but I didn’t spot any blood on it,” Bridget said.

“She may have reached the door, she may have even tried to open it, but I highly doubt she successfully made it outside,” Bo said. “The spatter here is very condensed. Uh… small in diameter. The higher blood falls from, the larger the diameter of the drop becomes. The small size here indicates she was likely crawling. The killer would have been much faster than her at that point.”

“Crawling,” Rick echoed, his voice quiet and a bit far away. Even Bo knew he wasn’t looking for further explanation on that one. “I need, uh… out. Out of here. Can you finish taking your pictures after we see where this goes?”

“Yes, but please watch your step.”

“Of course,” Rick whispered.

Bo carefully followed the blood trail to the sliding doors. There was a three-fingered smear of blood on the floor directly in front of it, as well as on the metal framing beneath the handle. She had been pretty damn close to a taste of freedom, though that was all it would have been for her. She hadn’t exactly been pouring blood from a gaping wound, but she had still taken quite a few blows to the head. The likelihood that she would have been able to stand and sprint away was low.

“The trail itself ends here, but the heel of a shoe dragged through one of the drops here,” Bo said, pointing to a spot on the tile, where a drop had been smeared into the grout. “The killer may have grabbed her once she reached the door and dragged her back. With the lack of blood, they might have either pulled her to her feet or dragged her with her head facing up to some degree, and her shirt most likely caught the rest of it. Or even her hair, depending on how it fell when she was… grabbed.”

Bo was rather used to censoring himself in some manner, but it usually revolved around editing certain elaborate words from his statements and observations. Here in Ellepath, his censoring and pausing felt more like an attempt to soften the blow. Unlike in Los Angeles, these officers knew the victims. Closely. Very closely. Rick had grown up in California, but Jeff had been an Ellepath boy from the day he was born. He’d likely had Carol Jameson as a teacher. Rick’s children had probably had her as a teacher. Rick’s son was dating the missing girl, and his daughter was her best friend. He’d likely known her for years. Watched her grow up from a kid swinging on the monkey bars to a young woman preparing to go to college and start her own independent life.

Walking either of them through the crime scene felt like a crime in and of itself.

“Are you certain you want to see it? Where the trail ends, I mean.”

“I need to,” Rick said.

“But do you want to? Are you…?” Bo cleared his throat, gaze shifting over to Bridget, who looked a little less helpless than he felt. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay seeing it?” he asked, eyes slowly drifting back to Rick’s face. “This isn’t like LA, Rick. You know this woman. Seeing what she went through up to this point is enough, don’t you think?”

“Someone has to see it.”

“I’ll see it. Bridget will see it. I-I’ll have Jamal see it, if it makes you feel better. I just don’t know that, in good conscience, I can lead you into that room, because behind that final door? I-I’m pretty sure that’s the end of the trail, Rick. I don’t know that I can make myself do that.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Bo, I really do. But you can either open that door, or I’ll damn well open it for you.”

“I’ll do it, B,” Bridget assured, already grabbing a glove from Bo’s camera case. Before Bo could protest further, she opened the door to Carol’s bedroom.

Carol Jameson’s pale, bloodied head sat atop her pillows, staring through the trio with dead eyes.

***

He had planned on keeping the head initially. Leaving it in the basement to taunt Bonnie. But watching Rick hurry out of the house and fall to his knees once he reached his cruiser proved his second plan had been a much, much better one. He could practically hear Rick’s dry heaves from the house. Could imagine the broken sobs while he tried to collect himself and pretend he was still some bigshot LA cop instead of the washed up hasbeen who had run away to a little town in the middle of nowhere to try and avoid pain or punishment. There was absolutely nothing bigshot about the man. Not then, and certainly not now. No, what Rick Downs was was a child killer, and for that, he would finally pay.

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NOT EDITED

Rick lifted his head as Jeff dropped into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “So I’m guessing nothing came of any good hiding places?” he asked.

Jeff shook his head. “No. Couple rats, a big raccoon. That’s about it. Did you guys already go check out Tina’s place again?”

“Not yet. Bo wanted to catalog the evidence from the school first.” Rick tilted his arm toward himself to check his watch. “Should be finishing up soon, though, and then we’ll head over.”

“Did he find anything other than the blood?”

“A couple hairs. He’s going to compare it to Bonnie’s after he’s checked her room. He says the blood’s recent enough that it’s very unlikely to be anyone other than Bonnie’s or the kidnapper’s, and we already know it’s not Bonnie’s. I doubt the bastard’s blood is in the system, but it’s still something.”

“Yeah. Something’s… better than nothing.” Jeff shifted in the chair. “What’s he hoping to find at Tina’s? Just hairs for comparison?”

“And fingerprints, also for comparison. He says it’s likely the guy was wearing gloves, but on the off chance he wasn’t, comparing the ones in the basement to Bonnie’s will eliminate any of the ones that are hers. It’s likely students aren’t usually allowed in there, so the rest of the prints should belong to staff members, and their prints should already be in the system.”

“What if the guy who took he is a staff member?” Jeff asked.

“Bo, umm, Bo says that’s a pretty good possibility. But if he didn’t wear gloves, if we find her car, any prints that are in her car and the basement likely belong to our guy,” Rick said. “Speaking of, did you keep an eye out when you and Miss Decker were looking at places?”

Jeff nodded. “Nada. No brush moved to hide something or brush disturbed enough to indicate a car had recently passed through any of the ditches, near the lake, or into the woods. No sign of it or any of its pieces at any of the good hidey places either.”

“Dammit.”

“I know. But if he’s ditched it somewhere, we’ll get our hands on it.”

“God, I hope so.” Rick pulled off his ballcap to scratch the top of his head before pulling it back on. “Bo says we should keep an ear out for any reports of missing persons, whether it be someone who never came home, someone whose kids haven’t been able to reach them, someone who hasn’t turned up to work. Anything. They’ve had cases in California where the guy has killed someone and squatted in their home for the rest of the kidnappings or killings.”

“I don’t think we’ve had anything like that. ‘Cept when Jim wandered off a couple weeks ago, but we tracked him down no problem.”

“That’s what I said. Bo says that if Jim ‘wanders off again’, we have to assume the worst instead of assuming it’s just his dementia again.”

“Jesus. Does he really think there’s a chance this guy will just be out here killing random people?”

“It’s better to be overprepared than under, you know? That goes for both this guy and for us, I guess.”

“Rick.”

He lifted his head. Georgia, the station’s only dispatcher, stood behind Jeff’s chair, a look on her face that he’d recognize anywhere. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” she asid, her voice shaking just a hair. “We just received a call about a… a headless body at the lake. They need you down there.”

“Oh, my God,” Jeff whispered. He pushed himself to his feet, seeming unsure as he looked down at Rick. “I’ll… I’ll go grab Bo and Bridget?”

Rick forced a nod. “Yeah. Meetcha… in the parking lot.”

***

Rick and Jeff let Bo go first. They stayed in the cruiser, Bridget still in the backseat, and watched the short blonde make his way up to the frozen lake. Bo looked at the body for all of three seconds before turning and giving them a thumbs-up.

“What the hell does that mean?” Jeff asked.

“It’s not Bonnie,” Bridget said from the back. “Come let me out.”

Jeff climbed out of the passenger seat and pulled open the back door. As she got out, he leaned back into the car. “You good to come out?”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll catch up in a moment,” Rick said, hands still wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

“All right, man. See you out there.”

“Yeah,” Rick whispered.

Jeff closed the door and jogged to catch up with Bridget. “You ever been worried about Bo working a certain case?” he asked.

“Of course. Some of his first cases were kids our age. I mean… dead, murdered kids that were the same damn age as him. I didn’t want him involved in anything like that. Neither did the other analysts at the station.”

“What’d you do about it?”

“I think he handled it better than anyone else did, but it didn’t make us less worried. One analyst tried to essentially bully him off the case so he’d go away and wouldn’t come back, which didn’t work. The other analyst encouraged him, taught him, and let him know it was okay to not be okay, and if he wasn’t okay, he could step back at any time.”

“What’d… you do?”

“I was just a kid in school, so there wasn’t much I could do. But I did insert myself into the living people part of the case to try and get information for him, help solve the case faster.”

“Did it work?”

“Depends on who you ask, I guess. They solved it, for the most part. Killer in that specific one got away, though.” Bridget glanced up at him. “Are you worried about Rick?”

“Very.”

“Because Bonnie is dating his son?”

“Rick left California because of a bad case. His last case. I don’t know what it was, but I know it… broke something in him. He came here to get the hell away from violent killers and murder plots and victim ‘displays’. If this isn’t the only victim, if there’s gonna be more of this? I don’t know how that broken part will handle being broken more.”

“Have you ever tried to talk to him about that last California case?” Bridget asked.

“No, and the little bits I do know are from a drunk Rick. I’ve just, uh, I’ve never worked anything like what he did in LA. I wouldn’t know what to say or how to help him, so asking about it always seemed pointless.”

“After this, you will have worked something like what he did in LA. Maybe now you can talk to him, make sure he’s okay. And if not, Bo’s really good at making sure people are… good. You know?”

“Maybe I’ll see what Bo says. He’s got a hell of a lot more experience than I do.”

Bridget gently elbowed him in the side. “He’s got more experience than all of us.”

“The victim is an elderly woman, based on her skin,” Bo said. “Once she’s at the station and has had x-rays taken, her bones will give us a better clue as to her actual age. Her head and hands have been removed. Initial examination indicates all three were removed post mortem, likely to reduce the chances of positive identification of the body.”

“Miss Jameson.”

Squatted down beside the body, Bo tilted his head back to meet Jeff’s gaze. “Hmm?”

“Carol Jameson. She, umm… she used to be an art teacher at the school. Th-the necklace she’s wearing, umm, was given to her by a student.”

“You’re positive?”

“Positive. H-he died, umm, in a car accident in high school. I don’t remember the day, but the year would have been 1991. She had it engraved on the back side of the charm.”

With a gloved hand, Bo flipped the charm over. “You’re right.”

“She’s retired,” Rick said from a couple feet away. “What the hell’s the point in that? She didn’t see him at the school. She didn’t see him get into or out of Bonnie’s car. She didn’t see him move her to the basement or back out of it. So what the hell is the point?”

“There are practically limitless possibilities,” Bo said.

“Give me a few.” Bo stared up at him for a moment, holding his breath. “Bo?” Rick asked. “Please tell me about a few of the possibilities.”

“She may have seen them at a stop sign, she may have been Bonnie’s favorite teacher, they could be killing every teacher ever involved at the school, they—”

“They?” Jeff asked. “They as in this bastard and Bonnie?”

“They as in he won’t call the suspect a he or she without conclusive evidence for one of the two,” Bridget said.

“Oh,” Jeff whispered. “Thank God.”

“There’s nothing in Bonnie’s history that suggests she would participate in something like that,” Bo said. “In that specific regard, I believe we’re safe and have nothing to worry about.”

“Why would he kill all the teachers? And if that was the point, what’s the point in kidnapping Bonnie?” Rick asked.

“He doesn’t like answering questions like that,” Bridget said. “I know it’s tempting to ask, and I know it’s hard not to want an answer to it, but he just… he doesn’t feel comfortable answering them.”

“If that’s… okay,” Bo added.

“That’s… that’s fine. I knew that. I’m sorry.” Rick shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really. I’ve worked with people every single days for years that still ask. Don’t worry about it,” Bo assured. He gestured past the body, to the line of footprints and drag marks. “Those are the same treads as the prints from the school, and they’re approximately the same size. The likelihood they were made by the same person is very high, but I’ll stll confirm measurements and molds back at the station.”

Rick nodded. “What about the blood on her shirt? It’s a lot.”

“It is,” Bo agreed. “I prefer to be a bit further along in my photo documentation before I start messing with the victim’s clothing, but without moving anything, I can see the rips and tears in the front of her shirt, and they’re littered all over the area the blood is. More than likely, once her shirt is removed at the station, I’ll find several stab wounds. Outside of that, I don’t see any other obvious causes of death, but I won’t know for certain until I’ve had the chance to run toxicology reports and the like.”

When neither deputy spoke up again, Bridget cleared her throat. “Do you know where she lives?”

“Outside of town, close to the farm lands at the edge of Blairsburg,” Jeff said.

“Perfect. I’d like to be the first one inside her home, to preserve the sanctity of the potential crime scene. But in the meantime, you guys can take Bridget with you and talk to her neighbors, as well as talk to dispatch about who called this in,” Bo said.

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” Bridget asked.

Bo offered a smile. “That’s my comfort zone, Bridge. I’ll be okay.”

She gave his shoulder a tight squeeze before turning around to face the deputies. “If you boys are ready?”

Rick drew in a long breath before slowly letting it back out. “I don’t think we get any readier. Let’s go.”

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NOT EDITED

Almost two thousand miles away, in California, Bo Austen lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of LAPD Chief Jamal Pitman’s desk. The older black man offered a smile. “I know being in the West Department makes you a bit uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for that. But I didn’t want to pull you aside at East and make people start talking about you.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Bo said, his voice soft. Quiet. “Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely. But I have a proposition for you, if you’re willing to hear it.”

“I’m still not willing to work at West, sir.”

Jamal chuckled. “Oh, I know, kiddo. I’ve long since given up on that dream. No, I wanted to talk to you about being… leased out to another department in need of someone with your skills.”

“What department?”

“When you transferred to West for a bit after the Mammoth case, do you remember working with Rick Downs?”

After a moment, Bo nodded. “Briefly, but yes.”

“He was good to you, wasn’t he?” Jamal asked. Bo only nodded. “He’s in Iowa these days, at a small sheriff’s department. They don’t have a lab or a lab tech. Evidence has to be sent out to be analyzed. Normally that’s not a big problem, but right now, they’ve got a teenager missing, and they’ve pretty much ruled out the possibility that she ran off on her own.”

“When did she go missing?”

“Yesterday after school let out, it sounds like.”

Bo lifted his left hand just enough to get a good look at his watch. “I’ll go. She still has a very good chance, and I’d like to help further improve that if I can.”

Jamal smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you want a detective with you?”

“I… It doesn’t have to be Miss Baker, does it?”

He snorted before shaking his head. “Of course not. If you want someone with you, the ‘someone’ is entirely your choice. But if you’d like suggestions, I was thinking you might like to take Detective Silver or that blonde officer you like. Decker, I believe?”

“I can’t take Dallas off of a case, and I can’t…” Bo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Bridget isn’t a detective. She’s an officer. She’ll never have what she needs to be promoted if she doesn’t get cases to work.”

“She’d be working a case with you. The location of the case doesn’t matter, as far as I’m concerned. What matters is she works one and sees it through. Where that happens doesn’t change if she’s deserving of a detective’s shield or not.”

Before Bo could respond, the door to Jamal’s office opened. Katherine Baker stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a travel coffee mug. Jamal couldn’t help but wonder what the ratio of coffee to booze was today. God, if only her father could see her now. He wasn’t certain who he’d be more disappointed in — Katherine for turning out this way, or Jamal for allowing it to happen.

“Where’s he going?” she asked.

“It’s none of your concern, Katherine,” Jamal said. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Bo shrink into his seat, seemingly trying to disappear like a turtle into his shell.

“If the fucking basement geek is going somewhere, I am going somewhere. Where is he going?”

Jamal sorted through the files on his desk with a sigh. He grabbed the one Franklin, his bodyguard, had drawn up for him almost immediately after Rick had called him. He held it out to Katherine, who stalked across the room and snatched it from his grip. “It’s a body from over seventy years ago. They found it encased in concrete. They want Bo’s help identifying the victim and determining if it was an accident or a homicide. There’s no one to question, no cameras to check, no scenes to canvas. It’s lab geek work.”

She flipped through the folder. “Than why the hell is he taking Decker with him? And who the hell is Decker?”

“She works at the East Department, which also makes her none of your concern. Bo works well with people he already knows, and I want to make sure he has a familiar face at his side.”

She rolled her eyes, tossing the file at Bo rather than Jamal. The man flinched, but he managed to catch it against his chest. “Whatever.” She walked back out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Jamal closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath. As he forced his eyes open, he blew out a harsh sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Mister Austen.”

“It’s all right.” Bo cleared his throat. “Thank you for… this. Instead of, you know, the truth,” he said quietly.

Jamal nodded. “Of course. So. Decker?”

Bo’s affirmative nod was short. “Yes, please.”

“Perfect. I’ll get everything arranged, and Franklin will take you and Miss Decker to my plane. You’ll be in Iowa very soon.” Jamal pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “Thank you, Bo. Your help in Ellepath will be incredibly appreciated.”

“I’m happy to help wherever I’m needed.” Bo offered a smile. “Except for the West Department.”

Jamal chuckled. “I know, kiddo.” He rounded the desk and gave Bo’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “Go on back to East and collect what you’ll need. I’ll call you when everything’s ready.”

***

Though Jamal had told him his people wouldn’t need a ride back from the airport, Rick couldn’t help but feel like not being there was very un-Midwestern. Rick had only been outside for ten minutes when two blondes walked out of the airport. The woman was dressed in a standard police uniform, and the man was dressed in a flannel and blue jeans. Though it’d been a long time since he’d seen the kid, Rick still recognized him instantly.

Rick pushed himself away from the cruiser. “Bo. Looks like you grew an inch or two.”

Bo rolled his blue eyes, but a faint smile tugged at either corner of his mouth. “Just a hair. Hardly worth mentioning.” He moved his camera case over to his left hand and held out his right, which Rick promptly grabbed and gave a good shake. “This is Officer Bridget Decker. She’s my… Well, ‘babysitter’ is the word that comes to mind.”

The woman laughed, bumping Bo’s shoulder with her own. “Bo’s the genius lab geek, and I’m his people person.”

“Ah, so you’re still a little shy, huh?” Rick asked as he shook Bridget’s hand.

Bo seemed to consider the question a moment before simply lifting his shoulders. “I expect to be given a relatively hard time no matter where I am. Bridget helps mediate that a little.”

“Good. To the mediation part. Being given a hard time is less great.” Rick pulled open the back door of the cruiser. “We’re only about twenty minutes out from Ellepath. I brought along Bonnie’s case file in case you wanted more of a rundown on the drive, but there isn’t much in there right now.”

“That’s all right. I generally work from nothing and build from there,” Bo said before ducking into the car.

Bridget laid a hand over Rick’s on the door. “If anyone is going to find this girl, it’s Bo. I promise.”

Rick offered a smile before she slid into the car. He closed the door, blowing out a harsh breath. He hoped Bridget was right. That Jamal was right. That Jeff was right. Bo Austen was their best chance at finding Bonnie before it was too late, and every damn second that passed was a second closer to her kidnapper turning into her killer.

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NOT EDITED

Thursday: January 30, 2014

According to the red numbers on his alarm clock, it was barely after five when Rick awoke from a restless sleep. He carefully pulled his arm out from under Heidi’s shoulders and sat up, grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand. He had a text from Tina, timed a little over half an hour ago.

Tina: I couldn’t sleep. Just kept thinking about what you said. I found the letter in her room. She knew he was being released.

Rick scratched his cheek, unlocking his screen with his free hand. If she were still awake, he could head over, check where Tina found the letter, and go over the rest of Bonnie’s room, see what else she was hiding. If he were lucky, there’d be even one little clue that insinuated she had gone to Florida to see her piece of shit father.

One little clue that insinuated she wasn’t already dead in a ditch somewhere.

Rick closed his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to text Tina.

Rick: Are you still up? I’ll come over and check out the letter and her room

Her simple ‘yes’ came almost immediately. Rick changed into his uniform, left a note for Heidi, and headed out.

Tina was waiting for him on her porch, hands clutching her robe closed against her chest. “Jesus, Tina. It’s too damn cold for you to just be standing out here.”

“I saw your headlights. I… I wasn’t out for long, I don’t think.”

“Still.” Rick laid a gentle hand between her shoulders and guided her back inside. “Where’d you find the letter, Tina?”

“Tucked into her diary.”

Rick would have to tell Heidi she’d been right about that one. “Where does she keep that?”

“On her nightstand.”

According to Heidi, keeping the letter in her diary meant Bonnie trusted Tina. The fact she kept the thing out in the open was also a pretty good sign Bonnie trusted her implicitly, which meant the likelihood Bonnie had run away to Florida to see if the stories were true was, well, unlikely. “Did you read it?”

Tina shook her head, fingers still clutching her robe. “I couldn’t. I-I tried, but I just… She knew she didn’t have to hide that kind of stuff from me. She knew I wouldn’t go snooping around in her things. I just can’t bring myself to let this change any of that trust.”

Rick squeezed her arm. “You don’t have to break any trust or do any snooping, Tina, I promise. How about you go ahead and sit down while I go take a look at her things, okay?”

Tina nodded and headed toward the living room. Rick watched her long enough to confirm she had made it to the couch before he headed down the hall to Bonnie’s room. It had been a long time since he’s actually been back this way in the house. Jennifer had been much younger and having a sleepover with Bonnie, and she had dragged Rick back to the girl’s room to show him whatever they had been working on the night before. What, he couldn’t remember, but they had both been excited about it.

Things had certainly changed in the room, but nothing drastic. Her Justin Bieber and boy band posters had been replaced with posters for TV shows. The pictures on her little cork board had been switched out for more recent ones. He recognized Bonnie and Jennifer in their junior prom dresses in one of them. Rick did his best not to think about the girls not getting the chance to have a second prom together.

He grabbed Bonnie’s diary and sat down on the edge of her bed. The envelope from the prison was tucked between the pages at the back of the book. Though they would have arrived at separate times, there were two letters inside — one to alert Tina of the impending parole hearing, and one to notify her of his release. It had been tucked between two blank pages. He flipped back toward the beginning, until he found the date the first letter had been timestamped with. A few days later in the diary, Bonnie had written about it. In the entries for both letters, she had written about protecting her mom, about being worried hiding the letters was the wrong call. No matter how many pages he flipped through, he saw absolutely no indication that Bonnie doubted Tina about her father’s abuse and subsequent imprisonment.

And absolutely no indication that she had any desire to run off to Florida, or anywhere else, for that matter.

On one hand, it was good news. Bonnie wasn’t on her way to Florida to hang out with or confront an abusive piece of shit. But on the other hand, it was horrible, horrible news. Because if Bonnie wasn’t on her way to Florida, if she hadn’t been planning to run away to somewhere else, then she had been taken and hidden away, and the chance of her being killed within forty-eight hours of when she left the school the day before was monumental.

***

Rick had left Tina’s and gone straight to the school. No one would be there until seven, but it was better than going back home and pretending everything was fine. When Jeff finally showed up — on time, impressively enough — he parked his cruiser next to Rick’s and climbed into the passenger seat. Before he could even open his mouth, Rick held Bonnie’s diary out to him.

“What’s that?” Jeff asked, setting two coffee cups on the center console.

“Bonnie’s diary. Tina found the letters from the prison tucked inside.” Rick cleared his throat as Jeff grabbed the book. “I’ve read the thing front to back. There’s no indication she wanted to go see him. She took the letters to protect her mom, and then she dwelled on if that was the right call or not.”

Jeff nodded, skimming each page he thumbed through. “She and Peter had a fight?”

“Yeah. I… I knew about that last night, but I was worried you’d completely dump the case if you knew.”

After a moment, Jeff shook his head, flipping another page. “Like I said, I trust your gut, even when it goes against mine. If you think she’s in danger, we’ll work this like she is, either until we find her or we prove she’s safe.”

“Thank you.”

Again, he nodded. “Looks like she thought she and Pete were going to make up. You talk to your kids about that?”

“Last night, yeah. Peter was pretty sure she’d probably never talk to him again, but Jen was certain Bonnie would realize it was a stupid thing to be upset over and make up with him. The couple entries toward the end there kinda solidified that for me,” Rick said.

“Mmhmm.” Jeff flipped through a few more pages. “Applying to colleges, enjoying school, working on the volleyball section of her PE test… She was doing well.”

“Very. Always. She’s… Jesus.” Rick raked a hand through his hair before pulling his sheriff’s department ball cap back down over his head. “Pete was going to propose to her after they graduated this year. I was going to be her father-in-law. I just…”

Jeff gave Rick’s arm a tight squeeze. “Pete is going to propose to her, and you are going to be her father-in-law. We’re going to find her, Rick, no matter what happened or where she is. We’re going to find her.”

“In Ellepath, with our resources? You really think there’s any damn chance of that?”

“I’ll admit we’re at a disadvantage,” Jeff said after a moment. “But I don’t think that automatically makes finding her impossible.”

“That makes one of us.” Jeff patted the back of Rick’s hand rather than offering any further refusal of that statement. “We don’t even have a lab, Jeff. Our coroner is our pediatrician. We don’t—”

“I was thinking about that after I got home last night. Your old boss in California. You still talk to him sometimes, don’t you?”

“Pitman? Yeah, usually at the beginning of every month.”

“Thought so. One of his forensics people is in the news all the time for basically being a walking crime lab, isn’t he?”

“Bo,” Rick said after a moment. “Yes. But you don’t usually send your best asset halfway across the country to help a department you’ve got nothing to do with.”

“He sends that detective to other states all the time,”

“Kathy?” Jeff nodded. Rick snorted. “Kathy isn’t really an asset. She’s… a liability. She’s a drunk. I don’t know why he sends her places — I’ve never asked — but it’s not because she’s an asset.”

“Well, maybe we should see about getting the lab geek drunk too so Jamal will send him our way.”

Rick chuckled, a brief but welcome relief to his mood. “Yeah, maybe.” He sighed. “Getting him drunk aside, you’re right about bringing him in. Or seeing if Jamal will send him. Whoever took Bonnie, unless they’re a complete idiot, there isn’t going to be evidence lying around for a couple deputies to collect with fingerprinting powder and a couple small evidence bags. And if he did leave evidence around, Bonnie doesn’t have weeks for it to be shipped out, analyzed at the backend of a backlog, and then shipped back. If we want any chance at bringing her back alive, we need more than what we have.”

Jeff nodded. “Call him. Ask about the forensics kid. Beg him if you have to. Just… tell him a girl’s life depends on it.” He opened the passenger side door and dropped his foot to the asphalt. “I’m gonna grab a smoke. When you’re done with Pitman, we’ll head in. All right?”

“All right.” After Jeff stepped outside and closed the door, Rick pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Jamal’s number and pressed his cell to his ear.

Like he did every month, Jamal picked up after the first ring. “Rick. I’d say it’s a pleasure to hear from you so soon, but I can only imagine it’s not for a casual conversation.”

“It’s not. I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. What’s going on?”

“Pete’s girlfriend, umm… It looks like she was abducted yesterday. Her father’s out of prison in Florida, so we’ve looked into that angle, but based on her diary, it doesn’t seem like there’s any way she’d be on her way there to see him. Her mom, Pete, and Jen all say she was totally normal Bonnie in the days leading up to it. Tina — the mother — called the school yesterday when she started getting worried that Bonnie hadn’t come home yet, and the receptionist said she was leaving the school at that time. Jeff and I are here to talk to the receptionist and see if she physically watched Bonnie leave or not. But if she’s been abducted…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jamal said after a moment. “What can I do to help you find her?”

“We don’t have our own lab, our own crime scene techs. It’s just, you know, us deputies with some cheap cameras and a couple fingerprinting kits. If we find anything — blood, saliva, hair — she’ll be…” Rick cleared his throat. “By the time the results come back from whatever lab we send it to, it’ll be too late for it to help Bonnie.”

“Do you want expedited shipping to my labs?”

“I was thinking, umm…” Rick scratched his cheek. “The kid still works for you, doesn’t he? Bo?”

“He does. He is an adult now, however,” Jamal said. “They do that, you know. Age.”

Rick chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Is he still his own lab?”

“More or less.” Rick could hear some papers shuffling. “Do you want him sent out there?”

“I don’t know how we can do this without him. O-or someone like him.”

“There’s no one like him. Just him.” A pause. “Do you want a detective too?”

“Not Kathy.”

Jamal snorted. “I don’t send Kathy anywhere without a direct request, and even then, she doesn’t go anywhere without a backup plan. Don’t worry about that. Bo works best with two of my people. I’ll see who he wants to go with him. Have you been inside the school yet?”

“Not yet. We’re in the parking lot.”

“You guys sit tight. I’ll make some calls and get the school closed for the day. My boy prefers an untampered scene, or as close to it as you can get.” Jamal cleared his throat. “Sit pretty for a bit, kiddo. I’ll get your scene locked down and in a few hours, you’ll have a lab and the analyst who knows how to work it.”

“Thank you, Jamal. I don’t know what the hell we’d do here without you.”

“Ah.” Rick could practically see the dismissive hand Jamal likely slashed through the air at that. “We’ll find your girl, Rick. Talk soon.”

“Talk soon,” Rick echoed, pulling his phone from his ear once Jamal ended the call. He slid his cell onto the dash, letting out a long breath. Most people would consider what he’d done akin to making a deal with the Devil. Though a part of Rick still considered the man to be family, it was hard to ignore the things the reporters and the media speculated and posited about him.

If they were to be believed, Rick had just pulled a favor from the biggest player in the American mafia. Who knew what the hell kind of favor he would owe Jamal in return.

But for Bonnie, he didn’t have a choice. For a missing kid, he didn’t have a choice.

If he had to sign his soul over to the devil in a suit and tie, so be it.

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