Page 46 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)
“I hate waiting.” Bree leaned on the conference table and stared at the murder board. The answer had to be somewhere in all those columns of information. But where?
Next to her, Matt drank from a bottle of water. Todd walked in, carrying his laptop and a take-out espresso cup. Dark circles underscored his eyes.
Worried, Bree asked, “Everything Ok ?”
“Cady was up last night, but it was just a few false labor pains.” He downed his espresso like a shot of tequila. “Nerve-racking, though.”
“Should you be at home with her?” Bree asked.
“No,” Todd said. “She’s sleeping, and her mom is with her. They’ll call if anything happens.”
But Bree didn’t like it.
“I’d rather take my PTO after the baby is here,” he added. “I can’t really do anything, and it could be another week or two before she actually goes into labor.”
“That makes sense.”
Todd rubbed his eyes and blinked at the board. “Where are we?”
Bree summarized the attempted break-in at Barbara’s house and Claudia’s early-morning disappearance.
She and Matt had knocked on every door on Claudia’s street.
No one had seen anything. Houses were too far from the street for doorbell cameras to pick up motion from passing cars.
They’d put out a BOLO on her, but without a vehicle description, the chances of her being spotted were slim.
A deputy had checked on Candy Simpson—she was fine—and escorted her to her job hostessing at a busy restaurant.
She promised to stay there until the end of her shift.
Her father—a former marine—would pick her up and take her to her parents’ home, where she would stay.
The conference room door opened, and Jager walked in. “What is happening?”
Bree gave her a brief summary. “We’re assuming Claudia was kidnapped. I’ll do a press conference and put out a picture of her.”
“Good idea,” Matt said.
It was Bree’s only idea, other than to wait for lab results that might or might not be relevant. Claudia could have brushed up against someone at the hospital and picked up those fibers there. They might be meaningless.
“We need a current photo,” Bree added.
Matt nodded. “I’ll bring up her social media account and text Connor to approve the picture.”
“I’ll make the calls.” Stepping away, Jager whipped out her phone and started tapping on the screen.
Bree reviewed evidence while Jager called the media. Todd left to deal with a scheduling issue. Matt typed up reports from the callout to Barbara’s house and Claudia’s disappearance.
Reporters came running at Jager’s call, and an hour later, Bree stood in front of the press.
“Claudia Ferguson went missing from her home around six fifteen this morning. She is five feet, six inches tall and weighs approximately one hundred thirty-five pounds. She has shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. Claudia is a nurse and was likely wearing scrubs when she went missing. We have a recent photo of Claudia to distribute. We believe this incident is related to the murders that occurred earlier this week, so time is of the essence.” Bree reviewed the names and locations of the previous murders and showed photos of Kelly Gibson and Janet Hargrave.
“Anyone with information regarding these crimes should call the tip line immediately. We need to find Claudia Ferguson.”
Jager stepped forward with a few words of praise for the sheriff’s department and concern for the families of the victims. “We’re calling on every citizen to help find Claudia Ferguson.”
Bree took a few questions and ended the session.
Back in the conference room, she stared at the murder board.
Matt brought her coffee and a muffin from the break room. The muffin was a no go. Too little sleep and too much caffeine had left her wired. Bree sipped the coffee anyway.
As far as physical evidence went, they had very little. “Do we think Harrison and/or Marina took Claudia?”
“That’s our best line of investigation until we have results from the lab,” Matt said. “The tip line hasn’t panned out.”
“Let’s consider the Marina/Harrison pairing for a few minutes.” Bree scratched an itchy piece of tape on her nose. “Why would they take Claudia?”
Matt frowned. “In this scenario, Harrison killed Kelly for the money. The house sale and the insurance policy payout would leave him in a very nice financial position.”
“Right,” Bree said. “And Marina killed Janet while Harrison was here to throw us off.”
“Why Claudia?”
Bree had nothing. “It doesn’t make sense. Where could they take her? To the farm?”
“Out into the woods to dump her body?” Matt asked.
“I don’t think so. The other victims were left in their homes. Those deaths each served a purpose that required them to be found. Why hide this one?”
Matt scrubbed a hand down his beard. “We don’t know the motivation for the crime, so who knows?”
Frustration tightened in Bree’s gut. Marge knocked on the doorframe and peered in. “Something interesting just came in on the tip line. A woman called in to say she saw someone at Kelly Gibson’s house on Monday afternoon. Her name is Paisley Babcock. I have her address. She’s expecting you.”
“I’ll grab my coat.” Bree ducked into her office and met Matt at the back door.
He handed her an envelope. “Photo array.”
“Good to be prepared.” Bree put the envelope in her pocket.
While Matt drove, Bree checked out Paisley Babcock on her dashboard computer. “No criminal record. Not even a parking ticket. Brian and Paisley Babcock have owned their house for eight years.”
Paisley opened the door before Bree had a chance to knock. Bree introduced them as they walked back to her kitchen. They passed two young boys watching TV.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier in the week. I didn’t know. Between the kids and work, I don’t have much time during the week. Saturday morning is my time to catch up on the news.” Paisley kept her voice low. “I saw you on my Facebook feed this morning and called right away.”
“We appreciate that.” Bree copied her soft tone. “You said you saw someone at the Gibson house?”
“Yes. I saw a woman going into Kelly’s house around three forty-five on Monday afternoon.”
Marina? Anticipation roiled in Bree’s gut, as if her instincts could feel the case breaking. “You’re sure of the day and time?”
“Positive,” Paisley said. “Ryan has band practice on Mondays. The late bus drops him off at three forty-five. I always walk to the corner and wait for him. I can see the Gibsons’ house from there.”
“How well do you know Kelly?” Matt asked.
Paisley glanced through the doorway, checking on the boys, who were still focused on the TV. “We saw each other at neighborhood events, but we didn’t socialize. Most of our friends have kids the same age as ours.”
“But you’re sure it was Kelly’s house?” he confirmed.
“Yes.” Paisley nodded emphatically. “Last month, my son had to sell overpriced wrapping paper for his basketball team. We went door-to-door in the neighborhood. Kelly bought a few rolls.”
“Can you describe the woman you saw?” Bree pulled out the envelope with photos of Marina and four other random women with similar features.
“Oh, yes,” Paisley said. “I’ve seen her before. Tallish, stout, midsixties, gray hair.”
Bree froze. Shock rippled the hairs on the back of her neck. “Gray hair?”
“Yes,” Paisley said. “I don’t know who she is, maybe Kelly’s mom.”
Or mother-in-law.
She and Matt exchanged a look. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Is there anything else to think?” he asked.
“Do we have a photo of her?”
Matt pulled out his phone. “There must be a photo of her somewhere. Give me a minute and I’ll pull a few comps for an array.”
“Check her son’s social media accounts,” suggested Bree.
“Good idea.” He typed and scrolled for a few minutes, then straightened suddenly.
“We’re in luck. She has her own account.
Damn. Her profile picture is an alpaca.” He scrolled for another minute.
“Got one on her son’s account.” He worked on his phone for two minutes, then slid the phone in front of Paisley.
“I’m going to show you five pictures. Tell me if you see the woman who was at Kelly’s house. ” He advanced the photos one by one.
On picture number four, Paisley touched the face on the screen. “That’s her.”
The woman in the photo under her fingertip was Elaine Gibson.