Page 32 of Her Final Hours (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #3)

He hung up and turned back toward the girl.

Something dawned on him as he held his phone and looked at the photo of Payton again.

Although Dr. Blake had advised him strongly against showing her any additional images, and although he had asked her if she knew someone called Payton Scott, he hadn’t yet shown her a photo because they assumed the two weren’t connected at the time.

Of course, with the girl being sixteen, Payton would have aged a lot in that time.

Still, there was a possibility that if Payton was alive, her captor might have kept newspapers with her photo in them.

Had Payton shown these to her daughter? Could she tell them if Payton was alive?

There were several cases where captors showed their victims the news just to taunt them; for others, they were given access to TV as a reward for their behavior.

“What is it, Noah?” Alicia asked, noticing him staring.

He made his way over and took a seat beside the girl.

“Do you remember me asking if you knew someone called Payton Scott?” The girl nodded.

“I want to show you a photo of her.” He turned his phone and held it out.

Inside, his stomach churned. Her reaction last time to the deceased man had been abrupt and traumatizing.

This time, the girl squinted and took the phone from him.

“You recognize her?” Noah asked, leaning forward, eager to know. While the hospital had flushed her system, there was no telling when she could regain her memory of people, places, or events. However, the doctor told him familiar stimuli might trigger a memory.

Seconds passed, then minutes.

She nodded and then broke down in tears.

Alicia glanced at Noah. Shock set in. As much as he wanted to press her for more details, he knew they would be better served to wait until the following day when Dr. Blake could work with her to draw out more information.

“Thank you,” he said, rising and reaching the door.

Alicia followed. “I gather that was a substantial breakthrough?”

Noah nodded. “Through genetic genealogy, we’ve established that she’s Esther Scott’s granddaughter.”

Alicia shifted from one foot to the next, her eyes wide with wonder, before glancing over her shoulder at the girl. “Holy crap,” she muttered. “Which means…”

“Payton could still be alive,” he said before releasing a tired breath. “Listen, I’ll be back in the morning to take her to Dr. Blake’s farm. Thanks again.” As he went to leave, he looked back. “Alicia. Earlier. What were you going to ask?”

She waved him off, pursing her lips. “It’s nothing. See you tomorrow.”

He had known her long enough to see that she was holding back something, but with all that had occurred over the past twenty-four hours, he wanted to get home and get some hours of sleep in before he started again the next day.

Exiting her home, Noah’s mind raced with relief and concern as he glanced at the two plainclothes troopers on sentinel duty outside in an idling SUV.

They were dedicated professionals, but their presence couldn’t dispel the unease lingering in the air.

He approached the window and knocked. “The storm is supposed to be brutal tonight. You might want to head in. Alicia has chairs for the two of you.”

His breath was visible in the frigid air.

“Can’t see people coming from there,” one state trooper said.

Noah pointed to his windshield. “By the looks of it, you might not see much from in there. Besides, you can’t have someone coming up on you.”

“Legacy wants us out here.”

“And I want to see you two alive. Head in if it gets cold.”

With that said, he hurried back to his vehicle and tore out of there.

The journey back was hellish. The storm was relentless; his windshield wipers worked overtime to clear his view.

Any attempt to come after the girl out here would be madness.

The wind howled, lashing against the Bronco, and snowflakes pelted the windows with a ferocity that threatened to send him off the road at any second.

Noah glanced at the clock. It was late. Gretchen would be wondering where he was. She still hadn’t phoned him. He assumed that she figured the weather was holding him up.

The narrow, winding road to his property was barely recognizable, covered in a thick layer of freshly fallen snow.

Noah’s knuckles turned white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel; his senses heightened as he strained to see the path again.

Every few seconds, he would feel the tires of the Bronco struggle for traction, sliding perilously along the icy road, but he persisted in inching forward with unwavering resolve.

The wind whipped against the sides of his vehicle, and the sound of cracking branches added a sense of urgency.

As he finally arrived home, the icy embrace of the storm seemed to tighten around him.

The house stood stoically against the elements, a beacon of refuge amidst the whiteout.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he parked the Bronco, its engine sputtering to a halt.

He took a moment to steel himself before stepping out into the biting cold.

In the driveway was Gretchen’s Toyota SUV, covered in a thicker layer of snow.

There was no way he would let her drive out in this weather.

As Noah reached the porch, his breath visible in the freezing air, his numb fingers fumbled with the key as he unlocked the door, grateful for the immediate reprieve from the cold.

“Hey Gretchen,” he said, shaking off the snow as the warmth of his home enveloped him like a comforting embrace, thawing his chilled body. “I think it might be best you stay here tonight. The weather is really….”

His words trailed off as he entered the living room and saw Gretchen seated and Ethan still awake. There was something odd. His eyes bounced between them. There before them on the table was a phone.

“What’s he still doing up?” Noah asked.

Nervously, Gretchen pointed to the phone.

Confused, he stepped forward, glancing off to his right and left as if this was an ambush.

The only thing that stood out to him was that the curtains were wide open.

Gretchen always closed them at night and brought down the blinds.

He scooped up the phone and immediately realized it didn’t belong to the house.

It rang.

Still confused, he hit the button to connect the call.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Good evening, Mr. Sutherland. I have your daughter.”