Page 40 of Her Final Hours (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #3)
T he relentless winter storm raged on, engulfing the landscape in a veil of blinding white.
Noah gripped the steering wheel on his trusty Bronco, his knuckles white in contrast to the dark leather.
The girl, Jane Doe, sat silently beside him on the passenger seat, her wide eyes fixed on the whirling snowflakes beyond the pane of glass.
Time. It was all he had.
And yet time was running out.
Once he delivered Jane Doe to Athena Blake’s farm, the abductor would expect him to leave and stay clear of the place. No doubt Athena would then become the focus of his game. He would be bending her to his will to lay hands on Payton’s daughter.
But why?
Alicia was right; it made no sense.
Never before in his career as an investigator had he seen someone take these risks.
Waltzing into a hospital? Abducting an investigator’s daughter?
Using surveillance to monitor and control?
There was something he wasn’t seeing or understanding, and he couldn’t help but think that the answers lay inside the young girl’s mind.
For these reasons and more, his instincts told him he needed to stall, to unravel the mystery surrounding Jane and the cryptic instructions from his daughter’s abductor — and the winter storm offered the perfect opportunity.
Noah stole a glance in his rearview mirror, his heart skipping a beat as he made out the dim outline of the state troopers’ car through the swirling snow. It trailed cautiously behind, two troopers braving the storm within its protective shell.
In a calculated move to gain precious time and speak with her, Noah intentionally provoked the unruly forces of nature.
With a sudden jerk, he steered the Bronco off the treacherous back road, its tires struggling to maintain traction on the slippery terrain.
The vehicle careened into a ditch, snow spraying in all directions as it skidded to a halt.
The troopers’ car pulled behind him, its emergency lights casting an eerie glow against the cascading snowflakes. The troopers sprang into action, their forms hazy in the storm. Noah’s heart raced, his mind calculating every move.
As they approached, their heavy boots sinking into the snow, Noah masked his true intentions beneath an air of confusion and desperation.
They drew nearer, their expressions a blend of concern and authority.
Noah brought down the window, the biting cold seeping into the cabin, and shouted above the howling wind.
“Lost control of the damned thing. I couldn’t see a thing! ”
The one trooper exchanged a glance with his partner, assessing the situation. “Yeah, it’s getting worse. We may have to call for a tow truck if we can’t get you out,” he responded, his voice strained against the storm’s cacophony.
“I’ll give you a hand.”
“No, you stay with the girl. We’ll try to dig you out and push the vehicle back on track. Happens all the time in this weather.”
Noah feigned gratitude. The first part of his plan was working.
He had the troopers occupied. Now he could only assume that the abductor would call him when he didn’t arrive.
There was no way he had someone out here or had planted a camera in the Bronco.
At least now he had a chance to converse with Jane, to pry open the door of her mind to her shattered memories.
Noah forced a worried smile, glancing at the girl beside him, hoping against hope that she could give him the key to Mia’s salvation.
As the troopers shuffled back to their cruiser to get what they needed, Noah leaned towards her, his voice low and urgent. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“They should have us out soon.”
The girl’s eyes flickered, a hint of recognition lurking. The storm roared on around them, the muffled sound of shovels against snow blending with the distant howls of the wind. Time was slipping away, and Noah couldn’t afford to lose this lifeline of hope.
Hands trembling, Noah reached into his pocket and retrieved the worn pad of paper given to him by Alicia.
The words scrawled across the pages represented the only tangible clues he might have to unravel the truth.
He held them out to her, his voice filled with desperation. “Is any of this familiar? ”
She looked at the words, her brows furrowing in concentration.
A flicker of recognition and Noah’s heart leaped in his chest. “You do know, don’t you?
” he pressed, urgency throwing caution to the wind.
“Look, I know you’re struggling to remember.
But think. I need you to think. What can you tell me about the night you were found? ”
As her memories attempted to assemble, her composure crumbled.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the words on the pad.
Noah sensed her distress and backed off; his gaze filled with empathy, but his heart was frustrated.
He had to find a different approach to coax the truth out of her fractured mind.
Noah withdrew his cell phone, fully aware of the potential risks.
He reasoned that, amid the blizzard, it was unlikely Mia’s abductor could see him let alone hear him.
The phone’s screen illuminated his face as he spoke.
“I have a daughter, roughly your age. Her name is Mia. Do you want to see a photo of her?”
Jane Doe stared at him, her eyes searching his face for sincerity.
After a moment, she nodded, a glimmer of curiosity lighting up her tear-streaked features.
Noah opened the photo gallery, revealing an image captured during happier times.
Mia’s radiant smile, forever captured in that frozen moment, tugged at his heart.
He fought back the ache that swelled within him, the painful reminder that he hadn’t seen his children truly happy since Lena’s passing.
“That’s her,” he murmured, extending the phone towards her.
“I don’t know your name, but I knew your mother.
I don’t know if she called herself this, but her name was Payton.
Payton Scott. Do you remember?” He showed her the same photograph of her mother as he had the night before, hoping that the fragmented pieces of her memory would fall into place.
A whisper escaped the girl’s lips, barely audible but carrying a profound weight. “Mom.”
Noah’s heart skipped a beat, relief washing over him like a balm.
“That’s right. That’s your mother,” he affirmed.
“I was a good friend of hers. She was a good friend of mine. Then someone took her away, just like they’ve taken away my daughter Mia.
I’m trying to get her back, but I can’t without your help. I need you to remember.”
The girl gazed back at him, her face etched with anguish. She sniffled, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. The desperation in her eyes mirrored his own. Seeking answers, he again showed her the image of the deceased man, Joseph Collins.
“Have you seen him before?”
Tears flowed freely down her face as she nodded, unable to voice the pain and confusion that plagued her.
“Was he holding Payton?”
She couldn’t answer.
In frustration, Noah struck the steering wheel with clenched fists.
The sound echoed through the confined space, a futile release of frustration.
At that moment, Noah recalled the words of Dr. Blake, who had cautioned him about the arduous amount of time it could take to unlock the girl’s memories: weeks, months, even years.
The words reverberated in his mind, reminding him of the immense challenge.
He took a deep breath, his determination resurfacing in the storm’s chaos.
Unaware of Jane’s attention, he slumped over the steering wheel, consumed by dark thoughts.
His voice trembled as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Mia.”
Only the sound of digging in the snow could be heard when the girl responded.
“He hurt Mom.”
To his surprise, the girl’s voice pierced through his reverie. He glanced at her, his gaze filled with hope. “Who?” Noah asked.
Jane Doe pointed at his phone, a flicker of recognition in her tear-filled eyes. A spark of hope ignited again in his chest. Was this the breakthrough he had been waiting for? As the doctor said, could the familiar stimulus have triggered a long-lost memory?
Noah showed her the photo once more, his heart pounding. “Him?” he asked. “This man hurt your mother?” he asked, his desperation made even more apparent. Tears streaked her cheeks as she nodded, her voice choked with sorrow.
“Father.”
Noah’s breath caught in his throat. This man, the one they both recognized, was her father. Questions flooded his mind, his involvement, address, and ties to others in the community — including the summer camp. “Is Payton still alive? Is… your mom still alive?” he asked.
Before she could respond, the shrill ring of the abductor’s cell phone shattered the fragile moment. Noah hesitated for a brief second before answering, his voice strained.
“Hello?”
“You should have been there by now. Where are you?”
“I had an accident. The storm sent me off the road.”
The abductor’s voice crackled through the line, his words laced with frustration. “Are you playing with me?” he demanded, suspicion seeping into every syllable.
Noah’s voice trembled, his frustration mounting. “You have my daughter. Why would I do that? The road is terrible.”
The abductor’s voice grew colder, more menacing. “How much longer?” he demanded, impatience shining through.
“I don’t know. The troopers are trying to dig us out,” he replied.
“These troopers. They’re going to leave with you once you’ve dropped the girl off,” the abductor stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Noah explained, his voice raw. “I don’t have a say in it. They’re expected to stay there. I’m not above them.”
But the abductor’s command remained unyielding. “Make it happen.”
“Listen, this isn’t going to work. We need to make a new arrangement. I want to see my daughter and then exchange.”
The caller hung up, and his frustration boiled over.
A surge of helplessness washed over Noah. The realization that his plan was unraveling and that he was losing control consumed him. His fists clenched in frustration, a mix of emotions swirling inside. He knew the answer he sought, and the reasons behind it all lay deep within her fragile memories.
And time was running out.